There was only a dim light in the living room, but I gasped at my reflection in the huge mirror. My cheeks grew hot and I scurried to the kitchen, teetering a little in the silly shoes. They were too tight and the heels ridiculously high, making my ankles wobble with every step.
But there wasn't time to fret about it, I had to fix a pot of coffee and get right back up to the bedroom. It was a strange hour of the night to be puttering around in the kitchen, but who could deny a goddess her whim? Besides, coffee was a stimulant and maybe she would gain energy to go on awhile longer. I sure didn't feel very sleepy myself.
I set the electric percolator up and turned it on. Then, impulsively, I went back into the living room. The coffee would take a few minutes and I simply couldn't resist the temptation of that mirror, the largest in the cabin.
Quite a picture! Zoe had found the kinky shoes in the clutter of one of the closets, doubtless a souvenir of some business tycoon's kinky girlfriend. The heels were high, all right, no wonder I had trouble maneuvering around in the darn things. Especially after going barefoot so much all this time. But it wasn't the shoes that had me blushing, it was the rest of the outfit. The jaunty little white apron tied with a big frilly bow in the back. The tiny matching cap perched smartly on my head. Both items imported, brought along just for me, obviously, same as the silver bracelets and chain still linking my wrists, oh shit, she had certainly made plans and preparations for this crazy holiday of ours. Some goddess! A goddess with the fiendish whimsy of a devil?
Only she wasn't exactly playing "goddess" tonight, just a lazy pampered-type mistress enjoying the services of her indulgent maid. Coffee in bed, for instance, a spur-of-the-moment fancy, that kind of service, consistent with the theme of my costume. And the other kind too, naturally-just as consistent in its own way!, sexy service from a most sexy-looking maid.
Oh yes, I was sure sexy-looking in the cap and apron, more so than in the nude, oddly enough. The heavy makeup was impressive, too, even if I could still see the pink tinge of my cheeks underneath it. The tinge of blushing innocence! Dressed like that, how could I help but blush? Even my young body seemed extra voluptuous somehow, the lace edges of the apron calling attention to the silhouetted outline of my womanly waist and hips. And at the same time focusing conversely on my middle, of course, advertising the unseen and making it larger than life, CUNT, as though I needed the publicity. With my naked tits just above, the rouged nipples lewdly exaggerated. And those damn shoes, the kinky stiletto heels throwing my weight forward and forcing me to stick out my belly just to keep from toppling over. Sexy? Only the white cap remained comparatively chaste, a symbol of my more practical line of service. But if ever a servant girl looked like a slut…
Hmm. Funny thing. Despite the unmistakable blush, my embarrassment had to be just a wee bit coy. Under my skin there wasn't that much difference I felt sexy as ever. Didn't I always feel sexy these days? My mind was suffused with it. Not any kind of sex, just sex in terms of Zoe. The cabin had become a world all our own, a world for just the two of us, and I saw that private little world, just as I could see myself in the mirror-through a mist of desire. Everything in my daily existence had taken on a veiled aspect of sensuality. It was torture of a sort, no doubt, since it went on almost unremittingly, relentlessly, but ah, what delicious torture! With the thrills coming thick and fast, the thrill of each night surpassed only by the thrill of the next. Torture?
And there were the days, too, provided we didn't sleep the sun away. Yet for nocturnal creatures like us, only darkness brought a resurgence of that all-but-timeless ecstasy. Unendurable pleasure infinitely prolonged. The nights! The rapture of flesh upon soft flesh. The whispered entreaties and throaty commands. The sorcery. The enchantment. The perfume, the passion, the delirious whirling of my love-saturated brain. Love, love, love! And such a fantastic kind of love, beautiful and yet barbaric-with no end to the complexity of her indescribable ideas, no bottom to the wellspring of her erotic inspiration.
Admittedly, it wasn't the kind of love that thrived on music and candlelight and contemplation of a rosy future. At times the future seemed dark and fierce and foreboding, and terribly insecure. Intentionally or not, she was molding me into something I had never been before. And doing it with remarkable success. Teaching me, training me, making me learn without my even knowing it. And I did learn. Oh yes, how I learned!, every whim, every caprice, every mercurial change of mood, I was learning to satisfy them all. I had learned how to beg, too; hadn't she told me I would? Like those wet kisses draining from her mouth! The indignity didn't matter anymore, it was the feeling. that counted, the feeling of submission, the intoxicating sensation of being a nonentity, a thing, a tool designed for her pleasure. I had lost all fear of what she might want next. Well, almost. What else would she have me begging for? Where does masochism end and madness begin?
In the bathroom?
Damn! I was blushing again, getting red under the thick coat of makeup. Not that I needed any mirror image to inform me of it. Blushing like a schoolgirl, imagine, more of that coy pretense of innocence? But just thinking about her like that, naked, using me, using my mouth, treating me like some kind of captive slave, was enough to make my cheeks turn hot with shame. No, not shame, really, at least not that alone, or I wouldn't be recalling it with such an exquisite pang of excitement. Lustful shame, maybe. After all, I had kissed the very heel she crushed me under; wasn't it about time I learned to take the barbaric along with the beautiful? My love-goddess and bitch-goddess were one and the same. Nothing she could do would ever offend me again.
Uh-huh. About time for the coffee now, too. Mustn't keep her waiting even one minute longer than necessary; what if she got tired and drifted off to sleep? A horrifying thought. I raced back to the kitchen and got everything organized on the tray. Then, after a hasty check of my apron, front and rear, the frilly bow tight and the ends dangling over my shapely ass just right, vain little slut!, I took the tray up, jutting my belly-button and wobbling all the way. Dressed like a servant but ready to become a slave at the drop of a hat. Or apron. Or whatever…
I stepped into the bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief, glad to get there without a spill. But even more relieved to find her still awake. Covered only by a single sheet, she lay on the bed in a languorous pose, her head propped up on some pillows. A frown of impatience darkened her features.
"You sure took long enough. I almost fell asleep. What did you do, fly down to Brazil for the coffee beans?"
"Sorry. You know how slow that percolator is." I parked the tray and poured her a cupful. "Besides, it's Colombian, good and strong. It'll give you energy."
"The hell you say. I'm worn to a frazzle, kiddo, all the coffee in South America couldn't keep me awake tonight. I'm going to finish this and drop right off."
"Oh… "
"Pouting, huh? You still hot for me?"
"You know."
"Such a cute pout. All right, you can fool around a little under the sheet while I have my coffee."
"Under the sheet?"
"Yeah. Come on. You want Zoe's cunt? Better take that cap off, though, the pins might get loose and scratch me."
I moved to the foot of the bed, getting rid of the cap and the mess of hairpins hurriedly. True, I had hoped for a much longer session, but this would have to suffice. Let it be a good one then, let it be grand and glorious; these next few minutes would have to sustain me through the night.
Light filtered through the sheet. I kissed both feet and then wriggled upward. Trapped under the fabric, the woman-smell was immediately noticeable, turning all that humid warmth into a scented cloud, an aphrodisiac atmosphere of steamy cunt. It seemed to reach down and tug me into its center even as I licked at the soft inner surfaces of her thighs. I went willingly, sniffing the sex-odor and basking in the sex-heat and at last wallowing in the delectably moist and tender sex-flesh.
After a while a click sounded and the bedside lamp went out. Darkness closed in on me. And then a deeper darkness, the alluring mystery of her cunt, and I burrowed in to make my face an integral part of it, mouthing it, tonguing it, losing myself irrevocably in its lushness. Her hands touched me from outside the sheet, stroking at first and then gripping my head hard. And in the midst of my own noises, the liquidly swishing noise of my tongue, I heard the distant murmur of her words:
"Good… good… sexy little cuntlapper… "
Her hips lurched, sliding the silky wetness up and down and all around on my face, spreading the hot gush of her succulence from my cheeks to my chin. Slick and slippery from so much oily lubrication, I struggled desperately to reorient myself and find my way back in again. It took a moment, but at last the tangled hair surrendered and parted to my lingual probe and soon her pliant cunt-lips were sucking me in once more, sucking just as greedily as my own mouth had ever sucked.
The excitement became too much; anyway, I went into a frenzy and must have blacked out for a little while. When a semblance of clarity returned, I' was still under the sheet, still sunk deep inside her body. Mindful of small details now, I realized that the frilly apron was probably losing most of its frills down there, wadded to a rag underneath me, drenched and sodden from the drainage between my legs. Too bad. But I had never wanted to be a maid in the first place, I simply wasn't cut out for it, and no cap-and-apron costume was going to change that. The locked chain on my wrists was a far better indicator, strong and unbreakable and more than a mere token of rank, something I could wear with pride! As a devoted slave should. Naked in chains, a slave to my goddess.
Only I wasn't naked, of course, even aside from that now negligible apron. Hmm. Another small detail? Uh-huh. Very small. I still had one of those sexy shoes on, the other had fallen off. It felt kind of funny. One shoe off and one shoe on. Like the nursery rhyme. But I didn't want to think about such a trivial matter, it interfered with my concentration. Squirming, I tried to get rid of it and finally managed with the help of my bare foot.
There! Now both feet were bare. I wriggled my toes and went back into action with undivided attention again, a sexy little cuntlapper. The sexiest cuntlapper in the world, with or without sexy shoes, oh shit, all I needed was a sexy cunt to lap! And I already had that. Sexiest cunt in the world…
I labored diligently, using all the skill and knowledge and enthusiasm at my command to please her, to prove my devotion, to offer the fullest measure of ecstasy for the longest length of time; what better way to bid my beloved goddess goodnight? Even the signs of my own approaching climax meant little to me, all but ignored in my eagerness to bring on that other one and carry her to complete and consummate fulfillment. Until at last the thick thighs tightened around my neck and she pitched and tossed wildly, weltering like a ship in a stormy sea, the same storm that washed over me an instant later.
It was ended. For both of us. I lay quiescent a few minutes longer, licking gently, my tongue a soft swab, letting her down easy and awaiting further instructions. None came, no response at all. Aware that my delightful duties were finished for the night, I slipped out of bed and padded toward the bathroom.
"Dana?" Her drowsy voice stopped me. "Where the hell are you going?"
"To brush my teeth."
"Don't. Just come on back here, right back where you were, that's where.you're sleeping tonight. Forget about brushing your teeth. What's the matter, don't you like the way I taste?"
No answer was required, apparently, nothing but silent deference to her will. I crept back and curled up under the bedsheet. It was a long time before I fell asleep. But I didn't mind. Except that I was looking forward to my dreams rather impatiently. With the taste of Zoe still on my lips, they were bound to be interesting ones. Cunt dreams?