Last Job of the Day

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My name probably isn’t important in this story. I’m still fairly sure that I could have been almost anyone. But in case you were wondering, it’s Bob.

This was late summer last year and I was working in pest control. We call it something different almost every month but though the name may change the job remains pretty much the same. I spend most of my time visiting the offices, factories and warehouses of medium to large corporations, checking on the state of the bait trays, replenishing them and removing the odd dead one. Most of the remainder of my work is with residential clients who have bugs or mice or all sorts of things that worry them more than they should but keep me in business.

Anyway, it was one of these calls that I was responding to. Last call before going home, I got to the house at about 6pm. A lady answered, dressed in a very unsexy dressing gown, her hair tied up but clearly unfinished. She looked like she was getting herself ready to go out for the night. I tend to pride myself on noticing little details and so, in this case I made up my mind to dispense with small talk and just get on with investigating the problem so I could get off home and she could finish getting ready.

She’d already told me on the phone earlier that she thought she may have wasps nesting in her attic. I left most of the gear I might need in the van and just brought the suit and a torch.

“I’ll be as quick as possible,” I said. “Have you got a ladder or steps to get into the attic,” I asked?

“They’re still by the hatch,” she said and led the way up the stairs to the first floor. The hatch was above the landing.

“You’re probably better off not waiting here,” I told her at the foot of the ladder as I set it up.” If there are wasps, they’re likely to come towards the light when I slide the hatch back. Why don’t you wait downstairs?”

“Okay,” she said. “Would you like a drink or something?”

“Well it can get very hot in these things.” I was putting on the beekeeper’s suit complete with the stifling headgear. “So maybe something cold would be nice for afterwards. Thanks.”

There was no wasp’s nest as it turned out – just the usual junk that occupies most people’s attics. Suitcases and crates filled with the stuff we never quite get round to throwing away. There was a little evidence of some very old activity but nothing recent.

I came back down the ladder and replaced the hatch. I didn’t want to walk any dust and dirt I may have picked up round the house so I took off the suit at the foot of the ladder. By the time I had done so she was there with a very large glass tumbler filled with a heavily iced drink.

“Lemon tea,” she said. “My own recipe. I hope its okay.” She handed me the drink. It always makes it a little awkward when people thrust things at you to taste that they made themselves but I was so hot and it looked so cold and inviting that I downed it almost in a single go. Either because of the speed I gulped it down or the cold, I didn’t even register the taste of it until it was drunk. It was nice but odd. A sort of ginger after taste and something slightly sour but not unpleasant. But the cold was a little too much for me and I got a real head rush.

She grabbed the glass as I staggered just a little and my hands went to my temples.

“Are you alright,” she asked? “Come here. You need to sit down.” And she took my arm and led me into an upstairs room. It was a large bedroom and she led me across to a very plush chair that stood in front of a dressing table.

“Thank you,” I managed to say as I sat. “I’m sorry. I think I drank too fast.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Just sit for a while until you feel better.”

“No,” I said. “I won’t keep you.” I started to rise but immediately fell back into the chair. I was very disoriented and clearly not well. This was not just some cold head rush.

“Now just stay there for a while,” she said. “You’re clearly not ready for anything else just yet. And don’t worry. I’m in no rush so you’re not holding me up at all.”

I felt very drowsy and feared I was about to faint. I felt very embarrassed at the thought of crashing out in some stranger’s place and a customer at that. So I tried really hard to focus on what was happening and why I was there.

“No wasps…..” I remember saying but then nothing else.

Until I awoke staring at the ceiling. It took me a second or two to even realise it was a ceiling. It made no sense to me. But slowly, as my senses revived and my head cleared I began to remember a hazy version of what had happened.

“Oh shit!” I thought to myself. “I must look a complete dick!” And I tried to sit up. And then new information began flooding my brain, too quick for me to process all at once.

Firstly, I couldn’t sit up because I was somehow tied down at the wrists and ankles. And I was naked. I was strapped, spread-eagled lying on my back on a large bed. It was the same bedroom where I had fainted earlier. But Bostancı escort somehow she must have stripped me, moved me to the bed and tied me there. I could see now that it was handcuffs restraining me — one on each limb tied to the four bed posts. The cuffs looked like the kind you’d get for kinky sex games and they were all lined with a kind of black fur. It made them comfortable to wear but these were clearly no toys because no matter how hard I pulled, I couldn’t budge a single link on the chains.

My rattling on the cuffs and the bed posts must have alerted her to the fact I was awake because she sudden y stood from the chair by the dressing table that I had been in earlier, She no longer had her hair up in a scruffy sense of preparation but instead it was neatly tied up high in swirls with black ribbons holding it. And the dressing gown had been replaced by a deep purple basque. It had a watercolour pattern running through it that gave it an ever changing sheen and it had ornamental “ribs” stitched into it that ran up from the black lace fringe at the legs to the black lace underline of her very ample but still quite firm breasts. The bottom of the basque had been fashioned in such a way that it was finished almost as though a pair of shorts so that it wrapped around the top of her thighs and couldn’t therefore ride up. I guess it was kind of like a strange all-in-one, crotchless bathing costume! She must have been somewhere in her early to mid-fifties, I would have guessed. But looking very good for her age. She was no tiny schoolgirl anymore but she carried the extra weight of age very well. Her legs were bare and she wore heeled slip-on shoes that were in a similar shade of a very rich purple. She had no panties on and she was shaved and it was done very well so that there was no rash and no stubble. She wore no make up as far as I could tell — maybe a little eye shadow but nothing dark or heavy. If I hadn’t been so shocked she would probably have seemed quite magnificent.

But I was very shocked. And a little scared. And very angry.

“What the fuck do you think….?” I started to growl but she had approached the bed and as I started to speak she took a black leather riding crop from where it had been hanging unnoticed by my left foot and she struck me with it twice. One smack on each of my bare nipples. The sting made them harden immediately and shocked me into silence. Now my anger really took the front seat. And I think it showed on my face because she stood before me in a very commanding stance and pointed the riding crop right into my face.

“Shut up!” she commanded. “You can do all the thrashing around trying to get free and all the shouting and screaming you like in a minute but first you’d just better listen and learn.”

She stood for a second or two more to see if I was going to disobey but I laid there waiting and thinking. Alternately running my eyes round the room and then back at her. Making sure I understood as much as I quickly could about my environment and my captor. If I was to escape whatever this place was I needed to remain calm and gather as much information as possible, as quickly as possible. She seemed content that I wasn’t about to call out again so she relaxed her stance. She returned to the dressing table and picked up a lap top PC that she must have been working at when sat in the chair.

“I’m going to show you something,” she said. “And when you’ve seen it, I want you to think very carefully about your response. A stupid and immediate reaction may prove very costly to you.” She pointed the crop at my face again. “Do you understand?”

I nodded, not even sure if I should speak to tell her “yes”.

She spun the PC around so the screen was facing me and laid it on my chest. She then came and stood by my right shoulder, watching the screen with me.

“Remember,” she said. “Just watch and listen.” She pressed a key and a photo appeared on the screen. I have no idea what I was expecting to see but it took me by surprise and before I had really understood what it was in any detail it had been replaced by another. For the next two minutes I sat watching a photo slideshow of myself dressed in nothing but a red satin bra, a red satin thong and a see-through, fur-trimmed, red baby doll nightie. Two of the photos held my interest even more than the rest. In one of them a very well built, squat, Hispanic-looking man had his erect, very thick cock pushed inside my mouth and my hands were resting on his hips. The photo was very high resolution and there was no chance of mistaking what was going on — no matter how staged it might have been. The huge veins running the length of his cock stood out in sharp relief to the soft and seemingly eager pout of my lips.

In the other picture, the same man was behind me as I knelt on the floor of the same bedroom I now lay captive in. The thong I was being pulled to one side by the man who was entering me with that same thick, veiny cock. Only this time Anadolu Yakası Escort not in my mouth but my ass. Almost subconsciously, my buttocks tightened but did not feel at all battered or stung. Not like I might have imagined I might have felt if buggered by such a beast.

She played the slideshow twice for me — both times lingering a little longer at the photos with the other man in. Or at least that’s how it seemed to me.

“He never really fucked you,” she said. “I’m sure you were wondering. But even you must admit you’d never know it from the photo. It’s very convincing. And not a single photo has been enhanced so before you wonder about anything else, I’ll tell you.” She replaced the PC back on the dressing table as she continued to talk. “The man is a very good friend of mine called Louis. He helped me strip you and dress you for the photos. I then helped get him hard enough to make the two pictures with him in worthwhile although I do think that given a little more time, just the sight of you dressed in such pretty lingerie might have done the trick for him anyway.” She returned to the bed and continued to talk to me from about level with my right hip, still holding the riding crop in her right hand. “He never fucked you. We couldn’t take the chance on it waking you. But he did put it in your mouth. You were really quite pliant when it came to putting your hands in the right places and getting you to lie in provocative positions.

Then he helped me strip you again and secure you to the bed before he left. I do many favours for Louis and he asks no questions of me. We should all have a friend so accommodating!

Now! All of those photos you just saw have been mailed to various people and places.” She paused for a second or two to let that information sink in and gently she ran the tip of the riding crop up the brief length of my soft penis. She flipped my cock with the “blade” at the end of the crop, as though I were a burger on a skillet. It just flopped back down onto my pubic hair.

“All of the mails I sent can be retrieved before they are read and I will promise to do just that as long as you give me no trouble. When I am finished, I will let you go and I expect no screaming or shouting or violence. I expect you to just get dressed and leave. My friend Louis is watching the house and when you leave he will expect me to make a signal to him immediately. If he doesn’t see that signal then there are certain things I have asked him to do for me. And as we have already seen, Louis is a loyal friend with a flexible sense of morality.” Again she pointed the crop directly at my face. “Do you understand all that I have told you?” I nodded. “Are you sure? Because if I need to repeat something to you I will, just once. It is important that I know you understand the consequences of any display of temper or revenge from you. So — last time — do you truly understand?”

Again, I nodded.

“Well okay,” she said. “Let’s get you started!” And with that she cracked the riding crop right onto my cock. Involuntarily I cried out in pain. She smiled at that and then stared down at my cock and watched it is it quickly hardened. When it had stopped growing but continued to twitch a little she reached down and with her fingernails she held my cock upright.

“Well we all have to make the most of what we have,” she said. “Let’s hope you can.” I wasn’t particularly insulted. Given the circumstances, it was going to take a little more than that to rile me. Plus I was never what anyone might consider well hung. But until then, I’d never had anything even approaching a complaint.

She laid the crop beside the PC and went through a door. Her heels clicked on what must have been a tiled floor. Craning my neck a little I was able to see just a little into the other room. I guessed that it was an en suite bathroom. And then my suspicions were confirmed by what I heard. The almost unmistakeable sound of a woman peeing. The hiss of the pee on the porcelain. When a man pees into a toilet standing up, the main sound is of the pee pouring into the water. But for a woman — or even a man if he sits to pee — the sound is more the sound of the pee hitting the bowl rather than the water.

And then there was that other sound. Of something more solid and more quickly splashing into the water. And then once more but less of a splash this time. These were followed by the sound of the cistern being flushed and then her heels on the tiles as she came back into the bedroom.

“Oh silly me,” she said, crossing the room to the bed. “I’ve completely forgotten to stock up with toilet paper. And I need to wipe myself.” She put a finger to her lips in a strangely coquettish pose and glancing around the room said, “Now what could I possibly use?”

Then she looked at me and smiled. She climbed onto the bed onto her knees, straddling my chest. She reached behind and gave my cock a squeeze. “You’ll have to clean me,” she told me. And she rose Kadıköy Escort up on her knees and with her fingers she parted the lips of her pussy as she thrust it into my face. “Do it well and show me proper respect or else…….well, you know”

I had no choice. I licked between her lips until the faint taste of her pee had gone and all I could taste was her flesh and all I could smell was her pussy.

“That’s a very good start,” she said. She swung her legs over me as she turned around and this time she placed her hands inside the cheeks of her ass and pulled them wide apart. She pushed herself close to my face but not right upon it.

“You need to see what you’re cleaning, this time,” she said. “So you’ll have to lean forward to do it properly.” I couldn’t believe she really expected me to lick her ass clean after she’d just been shitting. I just stared at the ass, at the brown smear that ran from the hole and across about half of the inside of the left cheek, not quite reaching her fingertips as she held herself apart. I stared at the puckering hole itself, also stained brown. I could smell that sickly, sweet smell of her shit. The thought of it was almost enough to make me want to gag without the smell as well. But I resisted and just swallowed hard and closed my eyes.

“Oh dear,” she said. I opened my eyes again to see her let go of her ass and reach round to her front. And then I felt her dig her fingernails into my cock and my ball sack. I cried out a high pitched yelp. The shock and the pain took me completely by surprise with no chance to prepare.

“Now let’s try again, shall we?” She opened her ass up to me again and pushed towards me. I steeled myself mentally and craning forward I began to clean her. My tongue lapped at her hole until it shone wet and pink and no brown stain remained. “And don’t you dare even think about spitting anything out,” she said. For some strange reason, that didn’t surprise me at all. I braced myself and swallowed. I tried my very hardest not to taste. I tried to breathe through my mouth as much as possible so the smell would not get to me. It took me five goes in total, licking at her anus and the cheeks of her arse before she was properly cleaned. There was an after taste in my mouth but the smell had gone and the taste was not nearly as bad as I might have thought.

She left the bed when I’d finished and went to the dressing table where she pulled herself apart again before the mirror and expected my work.

“Well done,” she said. “You are a hell of a shit-licker. And you have quite a lovely tongue. I was quite turned on when you had it poking into my hole there. Were you trying to get me going?”

I said nothing and did nothing. No nod or shake of the head. I hoped it was just a teasing rhetorical question.

She returned to the bed and straddled me across my thighs, facing up the bed. She picked up my cock as before and said, “Well, you’re pretty excited and now you’ve gone and got me excited too, you naughty boy. So what are we going to do about it?” And she started to stroke my cock, wanking me very, very slowly. She stretched my foreskin down until it was almost ready to tear and then slowly stroked it back up. And she continued to do that while she talked again.

“I think that now I’m cleaned back there, I can probably afford to let you fuck me there a little. What do you think?” And she moved a little up the bed, still holding my cock until she had passed it between her legs and she manoeuvred it to the entrance of her ass. It was still really quite wet there from my tongue and she began to rock me inside her very slowly, a tiny bit at a time. Once I was in her enough that she could let go of my cock with her hand she positioned herself so that she had one hand on the bed for support and the other was playing with the pussy. She rubbed her fingers down between her pussy lips, inserting two and then three of them inside herself. She was obviously soaking wet down there as the smell of her pussy grew so strong and her fingers glistened with the juices running upon them each time she withdrew them. She would withdraw and run them back up between her lips and then furiously rub them across her clit. Then they would slide back down to her entrance and the heel of her hand would grind down upon her clit as the fingers went in and out again and again. And all the time she rocked her ass up and down the length of my very hard cock. And then she came. She gasped and arched back, straining my cock within her ass as she did so and then she squirted and covered my chest.

I was completely taken unawares. After all that had already happened she still managed to make me gasp in shock as my chest got soaked by her wild climax. I had heard about women who squirt but never seen one and certainly never been with one. For a minute or so she bucked and gasped and squirted at least twice more, a little less the first time and very powerfully the next. My chest, my throat and most of my face were now very wet from her outpourings. Whatever she had sprayed all over me was clearly pee but it did not smell in that sweet and ammonia based way that pee normally would. There was a smell but it was quite faint and not unpleasant and smelt as much of her pussy juices as anything else.

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