Jane is Trained to Submit Ch. 04

On his knees he massaged her calves.

'Thank you, sir,' she trotted out as usual. A great deal of emotion escaped into those words.

'Is that better?' he asked.

He was looking up at her with his head level with her sex. She was tempted to say no, just to feel his strong hands gripping her legs. As though it was an accident her knees buckled, pushing her pussy into his face.

'Sorry, sir,' she murmured.

He looked up at her with a devilish grin. His tongue was slowly pushed out, and even more slowly he leaned toward her crotch. It was obvious what he was going to do. She watched mesmerised as the inevitable unfolded. Her thighs parted, to stand in an awkward way.

She felt his tongue lick her lips. She threw her head back and mewed like an alley cat. His lips were firmly planted over hers with a strong suction. His tongue was marvellously deep. His tongue twirled around inside her, eliciting tremulous sensations that sparked nerves along her limbs.

A hand reached up to grip a breast. The other hand parted her cheeks to explore her anus. She didn't hear the pathetic whimpering noises gargling from her throat. Her body was collapsing, so he had to support her, by a breast, her bottom, and vagina.

She was one heap of nerve endings, strung out, ready to explode. It took a moment or two to realise the source of the overpowering sensations had ceased. At the last moment he had pulled away, holding just her hands as she swayed precariously on the heels.

'Please! Sir!' she implored him.

'You started it and I ended it. Do as you are told, obey me bitch, right?' he heavily stated.

'Sorry, sir. Yes, sir,' she sighed.

With his hand holding hers she walked around the bedroom and out into the hall. Jane didn't worry for a moment that she was undressed, showing off her naughty bits - as she would have once called them. Feeling frustrated she pressed her thighs together, as she walked. It gave her hips an exaggerated weave, wriggling her bottom provocatively.

'Stop doing that, dirty bitch,' he said, and playfully slapped her bare bottom.

In her room, she intently watched him pick up a black dress. A sense of delight was almost powerful enough to drown the sexual frustration. This was the first time over some days that she would be decently dressed.

She stood still for him to pull it over her body. It was slightly stretchy, and was a tight fit, even around the pinched waist. It had to be Margaret who bought these things, as the shoes and dress fitted perfectly.

He watched her pulling and pushing her breasts up inside the dress. She was relieved to find them held in place. She would have been reticent over the explicit manoeuvring in front of anyone, though now she thought nothing of it in front of this young man. He had seen it all, so what did she have to hide? Certainly nothing in that dress. In a mirror she could see how thinly it stretched over her breasts, and felt how tightly it pulled around her cheeks.

Margaret had definitely chosen this vulgar dress. Was it to humiliate her, or to excite her son. She was past caring about what she wore in front of him, and he didn't seem turned on by it.

'You don't like it do you, sir?' she commented.

'It makes you look like a street walker. I prefer you to look what you are, Mrs Marshal,' he said, flashing her a look of amusement.

'So, what am I?' she persisted. He was reminding her she had been a married woman, and the mother of his ex-girlfriend, but let it pass.

'A HILF,' he smiled.

Taking in her blank look, he explained. 'A housewife I'd like to fuck. In fact, a housewife I loved fucking, and I'm going to fuck later,' he laughed.

She knew it was no boast. It was all true, he would be fucking her whenever he liked. Acknowledging it drove home that she had completely abandoned her morals. She was hardly able to escape home on these stilts, and didn't have the gumption to risk the dire reaction from his mother. So she had an excuse to stay and face the consequences.

The awful expression, HILF, was belittling and it fired her up. His statement of fact served to put her in her place, and she revelled in it. Being his sex toy shouldn't have been acceptable, but she was so driven by sexual desire, any normal reticence was forgotten.

'Yes sir, I'm your obedient maid, ready for you, sir,' she heavily breathed. She gave him a lingering look of need.

'Your my sexy bitch, keeping your pussy ready for me?' he asked.

'Yes, Sir!' she eagerly offered. Her whole body felt hot with excitement.

'Later! As my maid, you should be getting me something to eat,' he said.

He took her arm in a firm grip to guide her out of the room. Helping her down the stairs, she wondered if he had taken in what she said. She hoped he would satisfy her lust soon, for the need was so strong it dominated her thoughts.

'You know where the kitchen is,' he dismissively spoke.

'What would you like, sir,' she asked.

'Surprise me,' he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Summarily dismissed, she wobbled off to the kitchen, trying not to fall off the high heels. Dare she remove them? The shoes were strapped to her ankles, so they couldn't be kicked off. The tightened corset meant it was impossible to bend over to reach them, and the lacings couldn't be reached. The get-up turned out to be an effective incarceration, for she couldn't walk off home, in what felt like stilts. She would be going nowhere quickly, and outside the house was off limits in the dress.

Home was only a couple of blocks away, yet an infinite number of little steps.

Of course she would stay and face whatever he had planned. It was hoped her satisfaction figured into whatever it was he wanted. Without hesitating she walked into the study, keen to be near him. Again he was looking through lines of figures on the computer, all of which looked complicated.

'Sir?' she quietly spoke, not wishing to interrupt, needing his attention. She handed over the plate, hoping it would meet with his approval.

'Mmm! Good!' he said, through a mouthful of lasagne.

She watched him shovelling it in, as though he hadn't eaten for a week.

'I'm glad you're enjoying it, Sir,' she smiled.

'Mom's a terrible cook. You're a good maid. The place is clean and tidy, and the food is great,' he said.

This time it was a genuine compliment, not teasing at all.

'Thank you, sir. I really want to please you, sir,' Jane smiled.

After a moment the thought occurred that she wasn't a maid. She was a neighbour, coerced through blackmail into being a humble servant in their home. Even so, the pleasant feeling generated from his approval, was difficult to shake off. Maybe she could win him around by serving good food, and kindness.

He put the plate down, and reached for her. All her doubts vanished, with a renewal of the familiar sexual thrill from his touch.

'Be careful, sir, I don't want to stain the dress,' she lightly complained.

He pushed her off his knees to leave her stand before him. She immediately regretted the comment.

'I didn't mean it!' she squawked.

She handed him a serviette, keenly watching him wipe his mouth and hands. As soon as he dropped it on the plate, she jumped onto his knee.

'Open your legs,' he whispered into an ear.

Even the breath of air in her sensitive ear was arousing. She hesitated performing such a lewd act. She was there to obey him, and dare not upset him, or his mother, so she must. When she parted her legs it was the incentive of a deep need, not to avoid blackmail.

She felt his hand cupping her sex and purred with contentment.

'You're wet,' he said.

Wondering if this was an accusation of disobedience or not, she tried to think how to react.

'I'm keeping it ready for you, sir,' she explained.

He casually rubbed her nipples, which were standing proud through the thin material. She mewed pathetically, and pursed her lips, attempting to entice him.

An impulsive movement and he was deeply kissing her. Fingers were playing with her down there. It felt as though he had taken her. She was more than ready if he decided to really screw her. Through the mist of a near orgasm, she moved her body closer, and lifted her hips. She was blatantly offering her sex, for him to play with.

He pushed her away, and lowered her to the floor. She looked up at him with imploring eyes, and with the full on little girl lost look. Anger and yearning alternatively rippled across her face. She wanted to thump the floor with both fists, to assuage the hurt generated from being rejected.

'Calm yourself, maid. I have too much work to spend time play with a simple serving girl.' Seeing the look of anguish on her face he relented. 'I'll make it up to you later, promise,' he said.

A calmness and satisfaction flowed over her, from his attention and the promise.

'Thank you, sir. Your humble maid really needs you,' she complained.

'I know,' he laughed, and pulled her up off the floor. Like a tortoise she couldn't right herself without help. The feeling of being helpless, and dependent upon him, brought a feeling of comfort. When he pulled her upright, she leaned forward, with pouting lips.

'I need you, sir,' she murmured.

'I told you, maid, later. You can stand by me, while I work,' he grinned.

This concession was greeted with a some glimmer of hope. Knowing he was right, that she was acting like a silly serving girl, didn't help. The ridiculous behaviour couldn't be helped, she was out of control. She shuffled a little closer, gazing at her wonderful man. Swivelling a hip she nudged his hand.

'Careful! Hell, you're a bitch in heat. You just can't control yourself, can you,' Mark stated, sounding slightly annoyed.

Afraid he was going to send her away, she exclaimed, 'Sorry, sir, your naughty maid will try and behave herself, honest. Please don't send me away, I'll be quiet. Please!' she begged.

He made a huffing, exasperated sound, and turned back to the computer screen. Her face broke into a great big smile, and she nearly thanked him, only just keeping quiet. Without noticing it her hips were slightly swaying, from rubbing her thighs together.

He exhaled noisily, freezing her still. ''I've got to get these invoices out, we need the money,' he explained. Seeing any request for peace would be lost on her, he ordered, 'Legs apart.'

On the high heels she shuffled her feet apart, knowing he was preventing her from rubbing her thighs together, and squeezing her lips. It should have been highly embarrassing to be found out by a young man. Instead, she simply found it frustrating to be denied even that small pleasure. She almost giggled out loud, from realising how naughty she had become.

Jane felt butterflies dancing against her legs. They fluttered up, then down, tickling sensitive places. She wanted to bend her knees, to drop her sex onto his fingers. He was right, she was a dreadful slut, and totally out of control. He continued clicking one-hand typing, giving her less than half his attention.

It was humiliating to be so shabbily treated. When his fingers alighted upon her sex, she closed her eyes and deeply sighed. All ideas of rejecting his touch were wiped away, as he wiped a finger between her lips.

A finger pressed against her asshole, with a thumb rubbing her clit. She couldn't stand it for much longer. Biting her lip to silence the usual sex noises was necessary. If he was interrupted from work, he might halt those amazing fingers. He thrust upward, penetrating her bottom, lifting her onto tiptoe.

A little whimper escaped between clenched teeth. She opened her mouth to breath, when it became noisy sucking air through nostrils. A finger entered the place she needed it, while the thumb continued to work her on-switch. She was so turned on the world began to close in, shrinking more and more, until all that existed was her sex and his fingers.

Mark pretended to work, letting her get on with it, or rather, get off. His fingers were aching, so it was with some relief she started to bounce up and down on the two fingers inside her. She was groaning loudly.

'Please, let me cum,' she whimpered. She did.

With a whoosh of an out-breath, all the tension seemed to rush from her throat. Her legs rattled with heels drumming the carpet. A low hysterical laugh started, and was immediately cut off. After awhile she calmed down, not before he had to brace her body from falling.

He brought her down onto his knees, and stroked her hair. 'Better?' he asked, as though she had been ill.

'Oh! Yes, sir, thank you sir, much better, wonderful! Thank you, sir. Thank you for giving your maid an orgasm,' she gushed.

He presented his sticky fingers to her lips and she greedily licked them. Happily she sat in his embrace. One arm wrapped around her, while the free hand stroked her hair, then a breast, then somewhere else, until he seemed to have touched her everywhere. Her body was still supersensitive to his touch, adding to the awe-inspiring post-climatic dreaminess.

'Enough! You must let me work, naughty maid,' he told her.

'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' she automatically responded. 'Sir?' she said, needing to ask him something.

'Maid?' he responded.

'Does your naughty maid still get something special later,' she asked, with a look of longing on her face.

'Naughty maid doesn't deserve anything!' he scolded her. 'Though, dirty bitch, sexy slut, has been promised something. Which are you, maid?' he asked, trying to look serious.

'I'm sir's sexy slut, Sir!' she replied with enthusiasm.

'You're a bitch on heat, is there no satisfying you?' he asked.

'No, sir,' she replied, thoughtfully.

'Go away and do something useful,' he laughed.

In the kitchen she quickly gathered together the ingredients to prepare her lover a homemade burger. He would be ravenous later, after ravaging her. Waiting for the coffee to perk, she thought over what she had done, and how committed to his pleasure she had become. It was so demeaning, behaving like a wanton slut with an adolescent at her age. She had to admit it was wrong with anyone, at any age. The lower she fell the easier it became to be reckless, until her behaviour was now out of control.

If she could escape this house she might regain some moral decency, but how could she go out like this? The dress was indecent, especially so without panties. The tiny steps in the high heels, was another excuse preventing escape. Of course, there were the dreadful secrets that would be revealed, if she didn't do as she was told.

Jane cringed on remembering those dreadful words she used to describe herself. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how true it was, she was a bitch in heat.

While married she had never experienced multiple orgasms, and only had experience of the one man in her life. It wasn't safe to be so smitten with this young callous boy, but couldn't resist the overwhelming lust. She had thrown away all restraint, and continued to be mesmerised by his ability to excite her beyond anything experienced.

The idea of being so wanton, becoming so carried away from being humiliated, was abhorrent. What could she do to resist these urges? All these thoughts raced through her mind, as a further torture, adding to her dishonour. The realisation that she had sunk so low, as to become his bitch in heat, stoked her further, keeping her motivated. At last she had to admit to being his willing pleasure bitch, devoted to satisfying him.

She knew full well what was happening, but that didn't help resist it.

Returning to the study, she quietly placed the coffee in a convenient place for him to reach. Being absorbed in figures, he took no notice of her. She stood to one side, not daring to interrupt him. She must be a dutiful, obedient maid, to gain his approval. The sudden clatter of a printer startled her.

'Well? You're still here. What do you want?' he asked.

'Please, sir, can I have a pair of panties?' she demurely asked.

The embarrassment over asking a young man such a question, showed clearly on her face.

'I'll see,' he said. He glanced between her legs and saw what she meant. 'I'll get that corset off you, and you can shower off that mess,' he told her.

He led the way to her room. He didn't have to instruct her, she knew what to do. Bent over, braced with both hands against a draw unit, he unlace the corset. It reminded her of the first time he took her. Though now, she thought of it as the pleasure of giving herself to him. When the bustier fell to the floor her waist felt pinched, and the ribs ached from being pushed out of place.

'You've a nice ass,' he complimented, and gave it a gentle slap. 'Turn around,' he said.

She felt vulnerable displaying her body for his approval, or worse, his disapproval. That she was performing according his bidding, was no longer questioned. She simply did as she was told.

'You have a sexy body, did you know that?' he asked.

A slight shake of the head was an answer. She straightened her back, pushing out her breasts without feeling self-conscious. Instead, she was proud that he was pleased with her. In the back of her mind was an awareness of how very wrong, even immoral, this attitude was. The idea was suppressed and firmly pushed to the back of her mind, wanting instead to feel the pleasure of the moment.

'No-one ever told me, sir,' she said.

'Well, you are,' he mused.

Instead of racing for the bathroom, and a much needed shower, she stood before him, waiting for more. Even an inexperienced youth could tell what she wanted. Besides, he was getting to know her so well. After his mother had explained a few things to him, and informed him what was to be done to her, it seemed simple enough.

'You've perfect rosebud lips when you pout,' he smiled at her.

He watched her absorb every word. She pulled in her cheeks to form an 'O' with her lips. The reaction was interesting.

He watched her squirming with pleasure, and smiled at her.

'Run along to the shower, before I take you on the floor right now,' he warned.

She hesitated for a moment, as though considering enticing him to do just that. With a delightful giggle, she turned and wiggled her ass at him as she left.

He was satisfied that he had carried out his mothers instructions effectively. Mom had been right. The woman was susceptible and vulnerable to humiliation. It seemed to him that she had caved-in easier and further than expected. Anyway, that was his mother's problem. He had to think about what to do with her next. Keeping her hoping around at his pleasure was a satisfying game, but there was a purpose to it that he mustn't forget.

Jane came flouncing in with a towel wrapped around her. She looked years younger, like a young woman eager to be at her lovers side.

'Come closer. You don't need that towel,' he said.

He watched her slowly unwrap her body. The woman was trying to remain modest, while at the same time alluring. It was obvious she was unused to being a sexual tease, and was working too hard for the effect. He reached out to stroke her between the thighs. She gasped a little intake of breath.

'This smells nice and fresh. Are you keeping it ready for me?' he asked.

She looked away, with two expressions challenging for supremacy, embarrassment and pleasure.

'What do you call it?' he quizzed her.

'Nothing really, sir,' she answered, sounding puzzled. 'I guess I've never talked about it, or given it much attention,' she added.

'It's had plenty of attention and will get loads more,' he grinned at her. 'It's my cunt, agreed?' he demanded.

'Yes, sir,' she hesitantly spoke.

'What do you call it then?' he asked.

'Your cunt, sir,' she responded, in a whispery voice.

He marvelled at how wet she was becoming. The woman was worse than a slut. When he visited Louise, the mother had been so prim and proper, always wanting to be correct in how she behaved, and quick to criticise anyone who forgot their manners.