Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


When Mr. Conlon comes home, he finds his maid straddling a chair with her ass wiggling in the air, doing something she shouldn't be doing. Photo by Envren Photos/Bickstock.com


When Mr. Conlon comes home, he finds his maid straddling a chair with her ass wiggling in the air, doing something she shouldn't be doing.

Photo by Envren Photos/Bickstock.com


Submitted: October 24, 2013

A A A | A A A


Submitted: October 24, 2013



Well, this is awkward. My ass is in the air, my boobs are hanging out of my shirt, and I’m stuck. See, I’ve got myself slung over Mr. Conlon’s armchair in the library, ‘cause I knocked a figurine back behind his bookcase and thought that if I tried real hard I could reach it.  Then my shorts got all tangled with this iron decoration thing on his shelf and I’m stuck.

He’s going to come home soon. Shit. I’m gonna get fired.

Let me explain. There’s this dude I work for, one of my client’s. By far my richest, douchiest client. Douchiest — is that a word? Anyway, he likes to watch me while I clean. It’s really weird. He always has his stack of newspapers, and he’ll follow me room to room, planting himself in some corner chair, reading while I’m doing some boring shit like washing his dishes and watching while I’m doing something I guess sexy, I dunno, like he seems to like it when I bend over or when I accidentally grunt or something. Anyway, he’s clearly a creep and I don’t like it at all. Well, maybe a little bit. I mean the dude clearly wants to fuck. And, fuck, I’d fuck him. He’s one of those sexy older dudes who knows what he wants. You know what I’m talking about? Yeah, you know. But he’s never come on to me, never touched me. Hell, he hardly even talks to me. Sometimes Mr. Conlon answers the door, sometimes his fucking butler answers the door. Neither says much of anything by way of a greeting. Then he watches me. Then pays me — pays me damn good, which is why I keep coming back. ‘Cause obviously if it weren’t for the money, I wouldn’t be here. Yeah. That’s right. And I’m off. Done for the weekend with a nice hunk of cash in my pocket. But before going out and spending it, I usually, you know, touch myself to relieve the tension. Cause dammit, he does get me wet. Piece of shit.

So today. He doesn’t answer the door. Neither does his butler. So I’m standing there all awkward and shit. I have my damn work clothes on and I can’t stop thinking about a fucking wedgie that’s driving me crazy. But I’m on display on his front porch, so I can’t pull it out. I wait and wait. Finally I see this tiny ass note above the doorbell telling me to enter through the stable entry. The stable entry. Fuck, this guy’s rich. Fuck him. Mmhm.

I go around the mansion to the stable and jump from hay pile to hay pile to avoid the thick pools mud. The horses bob their noses at me. There on the door is a little note saying he’ll be later than normal, about 5pm. Usually 5 is about when I finish so I curse at his mansion and the precious weekend minutes I might lose if he’s late. I enter.

Let me tell ya, it’s fucking awesome being in a huge ass mansion like that when you’re all alone. You can prance around like it’s your shit and you can be the fucking bitch ass mistress. I open his stereo system and turn it up full blast. I can hear it anywhere in the house, ‘cause it’s all wired and shit. I dance and sing. I’m a wild woman.

I start cleaning the kitchen and decide to change out of my uniform. I pull my shirt off, fling my shoes off, unzip my pants, and then just for the hell of it, I prance throughout his house in my bra and panties. I run up and down the millions of stairs. I stand on the balcony and shake my boobs down at the imagined minions below me. I turn and shake my ass at them for good measure. I race through to each bathroom and turn on all the faucets, then tiptoe back through, turning them off and sticking my tongue out at myself in the mirrors. I even jump on his bed and rub my boobies on his pillow. Just because. And just once. No harm in just once. Yeah, I got a little crazy. But fuck. It felt amazing. Anyway, I do get tired eventually, so I go back downstairs, pull on my cutoff shorts and tank top, and get to work.

I do my work with dedication. With pure dedication. I want to get that shit done. And do it fucking well. Show him I can do even better without him around. Maybe he’ll reward me with a bonus. I’m a hard worker, yo!

So the present. I’ve cleaned every fucking room. It’s 4:45pm. I know I should change back into my uniform and turn off the music, but I’m so close to being done. All I have to clean is his library, which is super easy. Just a few waves of my duster and the damn dust is in freefall. I’ve done everything except the very tops, and I realize I forgot my step stool downstairs. I could go get it, but that would cost me precious time, you know? And it’s not like he’s going to do a white glove inspection of the top shelves. I decide to go with a little shortcut.

Bookcases are basically ladders, right? Why not just climb them, do one sweep with my duster, pull myself onto the next one and the next one and the last one, and then, boom, I’m done. I don’t really have to do the ones on the other side cause I did them last week all thorough-like. He won’t notice.

I do it. I’m pretty proud of myself, I have to admit. My hands were sweaty as sponges and my toes were gripping like they alone were preventing my death. But bam, bam, bam and I’m done. I jump down from the last bookcase, but I’m a little too excited and I pull the bookcase a bit when I release. The bookcase rattles. Like a fucking slow motion scene, I hear it shaking, I look up to see that shiny figurine — a ballerina or some shit —  and it’s gonna fall, and I jump up like a ninja to grab the bookcase to stabilize it. Except that I’ve grabbed it too fiercely and that jolts the figurine right off the shelf. Tink, tink, tink, tink. It hits the wall, then the case, then the wall, then the case. Hits the floor but doesn’t seem to break. Miracle! The first bookcase is all the way against the wall, so I can’t squeeze behind them over there, but the armchair is all that’s blocking the bookcases on this side.

I glance at the hallway outside the library. I probably have only a couple minutes left. I close the door, making sure it clicks all quiet-like. Yeah, the music is still blaring so no one could could the door, but I clearly wasn’t thinking right, so don’t judge me. Fuck, I don’t even know why I closed the door in the first place. But anyway. I can’t move the damn chair. It’s one of those ancient leather heavy ass fucking thrones. So I think to myself, I can probably reach the figurine if I reach over the chair with my duster. Yeah. I hike up my shorts, which gives me a wedgie, so I pull them back down. I fix my tanktop and fluff my boobs. I straddle the chair, planting one knee into the hard cushion thing, balancing the other leg on the arm, and I swing over.

The figurine is just beyond the reach of my duster. I inch out farther. Not enough. I drop my torso down and inch out on my hands. The duster is touching it, but it’s fucking feathers and the figurine’s not having any of it. I imagine Mr. Conlon coming home and finding me here. What would he do? He always has that damn smirk on his face. Like I’m so below him. But like he likes that I’m below him. Or some shit. He’s crazy. And my clit randomly flairs.

Anyway, that’s when my stupid shorts get hooked. I try wiggling out at first. But the decoration thing is like iron and it’s not moving, only tearing my shorts up more. My ass is sticking straight up. My boobs are practically fall out of my top. And I’m about to lose my balance. If I try to balance on one hand, I’m gonna fall. No doubt about that. And the bookcases would topple. Yeah, not gonna do that. But if I try to wiggle out of the iron grip, I think my shorts will rip all the way.

The music shuts off. Total silence. I freeze. But my arms start shaking. Fuck.

I hear him coming up the stairs — his polished boots echoing with each step. He stops in front of the library.

I’m praying. You gotta know I’m praying like a bad girl hiding from her mad teacher. Dear lord, don’t let him spank me too hard. Maybe he won’t see the library door. Maybe he’ll think I’ve already left. But, fuck, the music. Maybe he’ll...maybe...uh….

The handle turns. The door opens. Silence. He folds the newspaper in his hand.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I clear my throat. “I thought I’d clean behind this here bookcase. You’re going to be so impressed.”

He walks closer to me. I can feel the wave of air whoosh towards me.

“Did you knock that down?”

“No! No way! I wouldn’t do that. It must have been your butler. I was cleaning all thorough and stuff and I found it back here and I thought to myself, I thought, ‘That Mr. Conlon, he’d like it if I got that for him. Yeah, I’m gonna do that for him.’ So see? I’m helping you out here!”

“In your shorts?” He takes his newspaper and pokes at the fray tickling my thigh. He lines the paper along my leg to the thread that’s twisted in with the decoration. “Quite a situation you’re in. I can’t have my employees being so careless. And so casual. Do you understand that?”

“But I was trying to help—”

“In your shorts.”

“Well, I, uh.”

“And poor quality shorts at that.” He slides the paper along my thigh to my inner thigh and pushes it up under my shorts. I swallow. He pushes it up more and leaves it. Please don’t be touching my juices, please don’t be touching my juices. He’ll know… He puts both of his hands on my thighs. I flinch a little bit when he makes contact. I can feel goosebumps of pleasure running up my legs. He squeezes my thighs and inches his fingers up. They’re at the base of my shorts. He pulls at my thighs, spreading them farther apart. I suddenly feel his breath. Is he smelling me? He lets go. His fingers find a weakness in the thread. He rips them.

I screech. “Hey! What the fu...What do you think you’re doing?” He doesn’t respond. I swallow and shut up. I can feel the air on my now exposed ass. Carefully, he untangles my other side of my shorts from the iron. I’m free. Should I move? I think I should move. No, I think I shouldn’t. Fuck. What do I do? I feel my butt wiggle it’s uncertainty.

“Yes. You deserve to be uncomfortable. Do you know what I’m going to do?”

“Uh, no. Uh, should I go home then? I think the house is clean...”

“What I’m going to do is teach you how to be a better employee.”

“Teach me? What you talking about?”

“That’s right.” He removes the newspaper. He rips the other side of my shorts. Both my ass cheeks are exposed. “You’ve been a bad girl, you know that Elyza? Running around my house naked and shirking on your duties.”

“You saw that…?” I whisper. He ignores me. “You were watching me?” Why should I be surprised? But...

“You need to learn a lesson.” Whack! He spanks me. I’m so shocked, my arms nearly give out. He shoves his leg into the small opening between the chair and the bookcase, and he grabs my waist with one arm. Whack! He spanks me again. I wiggle my ass trying to get free, but all that accomplishes is putting my waist more firmly in his grip. Whack! He spanks me again. I scream and wiggle. I’m getting even wetter. The sting of my ass is making me hot. Whack! And again! And again. And again. Each time on a different cheek. And again. I cry out each time, but my cries are turning to moans. Whack! Whack! Whack! Tears are falling into my hair, but my ass is wiggling for more.

His hand whips up, then stops just short of my skin. He holds me tighter. I close my eyes and sway my hips, preparing. His gripping hand spreads, and he feels the skin of my stomach. He bends down slightly and with his other hand he reaches up my shirt and under my bra. I try not to but I groan. He grapes my breast, squeezes it, pinches my nipple. He moves to the other and does the same. But more aggressively. He pulls out his hand and flips me over. My hips are teetering on the arm of the chair and my shirt is falling down towards my head. He runs his hand along my stomach, pressing into me. The tip of his thumb sneaks down my shorts. Then he grabs my shirt and rips it down the middle. He attacks my bra and pulls my breasts out. Still with just one hand, he gropes my boobs and pinches my nipples. He gives each boob a slap. I moan and moan.

“You’re a little prima donna, aren’t you?” he asks. Drool is running down my cheek. “You want my cock. You’ve wanted it since the first day. In your tight little pants and your hard nipples. I knew I’d give it to you eventually. I knew you’d mess up and I’d have to force it on you. Bad girl.”

Unwillingly, I spread my legs for him. He sees and he grabs the crotch of my shorts. He slips his fingers under them and feels my wetness. He pulls out his fingers and sticks them in my mouth.

“You like your taste. Don’t you. Don’t you!”

“Yes, Mr. Conlon, yes sir, I do.”

“That’s right you do.” He flips me over again and resumes the spanking. But this time he’s spanking directly over my asshole. My wetness has surely soaked through my shorts. He gives my pussy a slap, then another slap. And he rips off my shorts. Now all I’m wearing are my panties and bra, but my bra isn’t covering my boobs. He pulls my panties up and deepens my wedgie. He takes his finger and pushes my panties into my asshole. Whack! And again. And again he spanks me. He pulls out my panties and pushes his thumb into my asshole. I groan and wiggle his thumb farther into my hole.

“You’re an ass slut, aren’t you? I should have known.”

“Yeah, fuck me. Please pound me.” He pumps his thumb. He sticks two fingers into my cunt. I’m so wet he can just go straight in. My vagina pulsates as he thrusts.

Without warning, he yanks his fingers out, reaches down and grabs my duster. He sticks it in my mouth.

“Lick it. Yes...get it nice and lubricated.” I lick it, pump it in my mouth, suck it, twirl my tongue over it. He leaves it in my mouth and gives my bare ass a couple of spanks. He fetches the duster. My spittle hangs out from it and drops to the floor. Slowly, he eases it into my ass. I moan as it progresses. Fuck. I want to feel his cock in me. My ass is twitching around the handle. He glides it all the way in and lets go. He spanks my right cheek. Then my left. He rips off my panties. He spanks me directly on my cunt. I’m so wet I can hear it.

He grabs me by the waist and pulls me up. The relief of blood rushing into my head overwhelms me and he has to hold my body against his to stabilize me. “It’s going to be all right. Shhhh.” He combs his fingers through my hair, he releases my bra, he rubs my back. He pulls me away from his body a bit and gently feels my breasts. I still have the duster sticking out of my ass. He kisses me. Deep. Long. His tongue touches mine. He sucks me. He feels my lips. I start to hold him back, run my hands along his back, kiss him as deeply as he’s kissing me.

And we start getting into it. I’m rubbing my body against his, he’s pressing his cock into my cooch. He’s hard. Real hard. He feels for the duster and slowly pulls it out, pushes it in, out, in, out, in. I’m groaning again. I can’t hold the kiss. He comes around behind me, and still holding the duster, he steers me to the large desk. He leans me against it. The surface is cold on my tits.

“Touch my tits,” I say. He obliges, feeling them, squeezing them. “Slap them,” I command. He pulls me up and does as I say. “Now pump my ass. Come on.” He pumps it. Fast. “Your cock. Give me your cock.” I hear his belt frantically loosen. His pants drop to the floor. “Take out the duster first. I can’t handle both.”

“Yes ma’am.” He’s not being sarcastic. He wants me so bad. And suddenly his cock is sliding in me. It feels so good. I reach out and grasp the desk. I spread my legs. He’s in all the way. He holds my hips and he thrusts. In and out. In and out. And he thrusts faster. I moan. I pull one of my knees up to the desk. He likes that and he goes faster. He holds my thighs and pumps. In and out, in and out, in and out. I reach down and touch my clit. I’m getting close.

“The duster. Put the duster back in.” He’s groaning now too, losing his mind, but he’s cognizant enough to reach down and obey me. He spits on my ass and pushes it in. I can feel my vagina expanding. Oh, it hurts. It hurts so good. I’m rubbing my clit furiously. As furiously as he’s pumping me. In and out, in and out.

He leans forward and grabs my tits. “I’m coming,” he grunts.

“Do it.” I rub my clit up into madness and we come together.

He sinks down to the floor. I collapse on top of him. His come is dripping out of my cunt onto his stomach. The duster is still sticking out of my ass. I don’t want to pull it out yet. He caresses my tits and sighs. He smiles. I smile.

“I’ll see you again next week?” he asks.

“Yeah. You’ll see me alright.”

“And the butler. I’ll make sure he pays for that figurine. If it’s his fault, that is. If it’s not his fault, I could have him join us in disciplining you again next week.”

I pout.

“Which is it? His fault? Or yours?”

I continue pouting. “Mine,” I mumble.

He smiles. “That’s right. Now you better get dressed. And don’t forget your duster.”

© Copyright 2019 Professor X. All rights reserved.

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