Menage a Trois Pt. 02

Literotic asexstories – Menage a Trois Pt. 02 by SadMasch,SadMasch
Kate and Carrie owned a town house in one of the suburbs a couple of miles from their office. It was one of a block of five, a narrow structure on three floors built on the side of a hill. From the road, the driveway dipped down to the double garage, with a laundry room and garden storage behind it. Steps from the tiny front yard led up to the front door, and the kitchen and living room on the second level. On the top floor were two bedrooms. The women were very proud of their home, which they owned outright.

Kate reversed the Volvo into the garage, then Carrie hopped out to open the tailgate and yank Skivvy onto his feet. Kate hit the remote to lock the garage, then the three of them climbed the stairs up and through the hallway into the living room. Briskly, Kate marched to the window and drew the curtains, shutting out the view of the back garden.

Carrie looked at her partner quizzically. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Warm his bum, you mean?” Kate said, being deliberately crude. “Has he done anything to deserve that?”

“No, but I want to see if he means what he says. So many men are all mouth and trousers!”

They both looked at Skivvy, who stood head down, shuffling his feet nervously.

“Well, Skivvy,” Kate demanded. “What shall we do with you?”

“I — I’m at your disposal Miss,” Skivvy offered timidly.

“Right,” said Kate briskly. “Strip. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Carrie stood and watched while Skivvy peeled off his clothes. The urge to get started overcame her as she watched the young man’s smooth naked flesh emerge from its cocoon of clothing. She went into the hall and came back with a clothes brush. Its back and handle were solid ebony.

“Your predecessor ran away after this was used on her bottom,” Carrie told Skivvy.

Skivvy looked at the floor and waited to be told what to do. Carrie settled herself on the larger of the two sofas and eyed the protuberance pointing at her. “There’s a loo on the other side of the landing,” she told Skivvy. “Go and fetch me a towel. I’m not having you make a mess on my skirt!”

Skivvy trotted off and returned with a hand towel. Carrie spread it carefully over her lap.

“Over you go.”

Skivvy draped himself over the waiting knees, his rigid penis squashed against the towel. Carrie could feel its modest pressure but chose to ignore it. She was running an appraising hand over the hairless rump offered up to her when Kate came back, flexing a whippy, three-foot dressage whip.

“Oh, you’ve started without me!” she exclaimed, her eye on the brush in Carrie’s hand. “Never mind. I’m sure there’s plenty to go around.”

Carrie did not reply. She was focussed on the target draped across her lap. She raised the ebony brush up over her shoulder and brought in down forcefully to whack into Skivvy’s bare flesh. The smack of contact was loud and clear, and Skivvy mewed between compressed lips as the familiar burn of wood throbbed through his rump. Memories of his time over Mrs Stepley’s lap came surging back, and he pushed his bottom up as an invitation for his new mistress to continue.

The gesture was not lost on Carrie. This boy was offering her his submission, and she was happy to accept it. She looked up at Kate, grinned.

“That’s right, boy, offer it up to me. We own it now.”

Her brush rose and fell, rose and fell, smacking its masterful message across Skivvy’s backside. Methodical as ever, Carrie was aiming for the couple of inches either side of the line where buttock met thigh and sharing the smacks with meticulous fairness between the left and right cheeks.

“Hey, leave some for me,” laughed Kate.

Carrie nodded her agreement but continued to whack the back of the brush onto the rapidly reddening rump. She was counting the strokes. “Eighteen strokes, that’s what I’m giving him,” she said, breathless from the effort of wielding the brush. “Then you can take over.”

“Yikes,” squealed Skivvy, as a particularly juicy smack bit into his sulcus. “Oh oh oh oh.”

“Sixteen…” whack! “seventeen…” whack! “eighteen,” intoned Carrie, then shoved the whimpering Skivvy off her lap. “All yours.”

“Good-o,” drawled Kate, reaching down to take hold of Skivvy’s right ear. Using that, she steered him on his knees to a footstool and made him drape himself over it. She placed one elegantly shod foot on the small of his back and swished her dressage whip experimentally. She smiled as Skivvy’s bottom contracted at the whistling sound of the whip.

She tapped the quaking bottom to gauge her distance, then snapped it down with a flick of her wrist. There seemed to be no effort involved in what she was doing but the effect was electric. Skivvy gave a strangled yelp, his backside bucked, and a neat pencil-thin red line stretched diagonally across it.

“Steady boy,” Kate admonished. “You really don’t want to be knocking me over, if you know what’s good for you.” She paused. “And for that backside of yours.”

Skivvy clutched at the footstool legs and waited. There was a pause, then Kate flicked her wrist once more and the whip bit savagely into the buttock flesh. Skivvy knew how much it would hurt, and was prepared for that, so his reactions were more muted as he snuffled snot and blinked back tears.

“That’s better boy,” Kate encouraged him. “And now for the rest of them.”

She followed that with a volley of strokes, lacing down diagonally, the tip biting into the underside of Skivvy’s right cheek. The speed with which one lash followed another gave the young volunteer slave no time to identify and appreciate each individual stab of fire. For him, it was just a wave of pain, swirling across his buttocks and up to his brain. His eyes blurred; his breathing faltered. Saliva, snot and tears dripped from his various facial orifices onto the carpet, and a shrill keening struggled through his clenched teeth.

“And that’s eighteen,” concluded Kate. She moved her foot off Skivvy’s back and dropped the whip on the floor. Her face was flushed, her breathing erratic, and there was a drumming in her ears. Her knees struggled to support her weight, and she could feel some dampness in the gusset of her panties. She was conscious of Carrie’s eyes on her, and the expression of bemused amusement on her face.

“That was fun,” Kate said rather lamely.

Carrie nodded her agreement.

“Okay, Skivvy, on your feet,” she ordered. She looked at the lad as he straightened slowly. “That was a taste of what you’ll get here. If you want out, we’ll drop you off in town.”

Skivvy shook his head slowly. “No thank you Miss C. This is what I signed up for. I’ll try my best to make it worth your while.”

“Let’s show you around,” said Kate, regaining her composure and getting down to business.

# # # # #

The guided tour of the house didn’t take long. On the top floor, Kate pointed to the tiny bedroom overlooking the street.

“You’ll be in there,” Carrie told him. “Annemieke spent more time keeping that tidy than the rest of the house.”

“Thank you, miss. It looks very nice,” Skivvy said meekly. It was spartan, but relatively tidy, with a single bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers. The attached bathroom, with its washbasin, shower and water closet, was also clean.

They bustled back down to the kitchen. Carrie produced a tin of soup, the back end of a loaf of bread, and a tub of spread.

“Eat that, and then get to work. We’re going out for the evening. We expect you to get the place sorted by the time we get back.”

They left him in the kitchen and headed up the stairs to their bedroom. Almost immediately, Kate began stripping off her clothes. She paused to ease the damp knickers off her crotch and smiled at her partner.

“I never realised how hot that would be!” she giggled.

Carrie nodded as she began to undress. “It was. And I could see how it was getting to you.”

“You know, all these years, I’ve been struggling against men, and the power they hold over us. My dad was such a bastard, and my mum let him walk all over her. And me,” she added as an afterthought.

“And now you get a chance to redress the balance,” Carri said as she walked naked int the bathroom.

“Yes,” Kate agreed as she sat on the toilet. “Although it’s not that poor bastard’s fault that other men treated us so badly.”

“Oh I wouldn’t let that stop me,” Carrie said firmly as she turned on the shower. She raised her voice to compete with the hiss of the warm water sluicing over her. “Men think with their dicks, and it’s their dicks that made them behave the way they did… they do,” she corrected herself. “It’s Skivvy’s dick that has led him into our hands, so dishing it out to him as a proxy for all men seems okay to me.”

Kate watched the steam build inside the shower cabinet, hiding her friend from sight. Thoughtfully, she wiped herself and got off the toilet.

“I wonder how long it will be before the poor simp wises up and makes a run for it,” she said to herself. “We may as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Downstairs, Skivvy ate hungrily. He hadn’t had any food since first thing that morning, and the bread and soup hit the spot. He had finished by the time he heard the shower in his mistresses’ bathroom starting to run. He put his bowl and cutlery in the sink and looked around him.

The kitchen was a spacious well-lit room, with a range cooker, big fridge-freezer, double butler sink, plenty of counter space stacked with labour-saving appliances, a dishwasher, and a kitchen table in the middle with six upright chairs. It was a shambles. Unwiped spills decorated the work surfaces and the kitchen table, the sink was full of greasy frying pans, pots, plates and glasses, the cooker looked like its own special disaster area.

He made a plan in his mind about how to deal with it and moved to the living room.

The intensity of his emotions when he had been spanked and whipped there had blurred his perception of his surroundings, which he could now assess more calmly. It looked as though a tsunami had swept through the place, spewing debris in its wake. Dirty plates, mugs and glasses littered the coffee tables, newspapers, books, correspondence, and stray items of clothing were scattered over the seating and carpet, and a pair of muddy boots had obviously trekked its wake to a chair in the corner by the window, where they squatted defiantly.

Back in the kitchen, he found a cupboard holding a vacuum cleaner and an array of cleaning materials. Then, still naked, he went back to the living room and got to work.

An uber collected the two ladies half an hour later and took them to the party to which they had been invited. They walked past Skivvy in the living room on their way out. He was on his hands and knees, carefully shampooing the mud left by Kate’s walking boots. They smiled at the sight of his bare bottom, bruised and welted, wagging about as he worked.

“We’ll be gone for the evening,” Carrie told him. “You’d better have the place in shape by the time we get back.”

Their host was Alison Dillinger, one of the new breed of female corporate lawyers who were taking a big share of provincial business from their male competitors. She and her partner, a flamboyant music executive called Annie Holroyd, were holding a gathering for about fifty of their friends to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of their union. It was a delightful evening, with good food, good wine, and a lot of lively conversation. Kate and Carrie forgot all about their domestic situation and concentrated on enjoying themselves. Apart from a few tedious moments, when a couple of unattached males tried to hit on them — despite being told that they were in a female-only relationship — the company was charming, and Alison made sure that all her guests mingled and socialised smoothly. Both women were flushed with excitement, and more than a little tipsy, by the time they climbed into their uber for the trip home.

The ride back calmed them down and left them quite drowsy. They stumbled out of the car and headed up the path to their front door. At the top of the stairs, Skivvy stood in the hall, holding the door ajar.

“What are you doing, still awake?” Kate demanded suspiciously. “Is something wrong?”

“No Miss K,” Skivvy assured her. “It would be wrong of me to go to bed before my mistresses.”

The ladies chose to ignore that remark and headed up to their bedroom with Skivvy following diffidently behind them.

“God I’m knackered,” said Carrie.

Kate turned to Skivvy. “Go on, shoo, off to bed,” she said, sounding like she was talking to a dog.

“Yeah,” said Carrie. “And we want tea in bed, at eight in the morning. Now bugger off.”

They headed off to bed, in too much of an alcoholic haze to notice anything that Skivvy had done while they were out.

# # # # #

Kate had an arm around Carrie, and had her face buried in the crook between Carrie’s neck and shoulder, when she heard the bedroom door open. She jerked around to see the naked form of Skivvy, carrying a tray, which he put carefully on the dressing table.

“W-w-what the fuck are you doing?” she demanded, her sleep-befuddled brain refusing to cope with the intrusion.

“It’s eight o’clock, Miss. I’ve brought tea for you and Miss C. Do you take milk and sugar?”

Carrie surfaced and sat up. “That’s right. I asked for that. Good boy, Skivvy. We both take milk, no sugar.”

Skivvy busied himself with the tea things. Kate looked askance at Carrie’s bare breasts proudly displayed above the edge of the duvet.

“Well, he’s getting an eyeful, isn’t he?” she murmured.

Carrie smiled down at her. “This boy is part of the furniture, love. He’ll be cleaning our loo and washing our knickers. So what if he can see my tits? If he gets any ideas above his station, we’ll know what to do about it!”

Skivvy carried a cup and saucer carefully to Carrie’s bedside.

“Good boy, Skivvy,” she said. “But next time, serve us tea in mugs. That cup is hardly a mouthful.”

“Sorry Miss C. Would you like me to fetch you a mug?”

“No, just get on with it,” Carrie said curtly, as she took a sip of her tea. “We’ll be down for breakfast in a bit. Cereal and fruit juice. And cover up your dangly bits. There’s a butcher’s apron in the kitchen.”

Skivvy served Kate and left the room. Carrie looked around her and blinked. The room was in immaculate condition, freshly vacuumed, dusted, and tidied, and furniture that gleamed in the morning sunlight which was just making its way past the drawn curtains.

Kate wandered into the bathroom to have a pee, and murmured in pleasant surprise, because again, Skivvy had obviously been hard at work there. All the porcelain was shining, the floor was freshly mopped, clean towels hung on the heated rails, and all the toiletries were neatly arranged in the cabinets.

Carrie had a similar experience when she went into their dressing room. The clothes which had been scattered about were either neatly hung in the wardrobes, or stowed in the linen basket, all the shoes were clean, polished, and on the shoe racks, and the carpet was freshly vacuumed. She pushed into the bathroom and looked at Kate sitting on the loo.

“If all we have to do is warm his bottom to get service like that, then we’re on a winner here,” she smiled.

Kate nodded thoughtfully. “We’d better see how far he wants to go. I think he’s bonkers, and that might cause problems of its own.”

“Let’s play along for a week or two. If it gets too much we can always kick him out.”

“Okay,” Kate decided. “But we’ll play hard, so we can always ease up if it gets too much for him.”

# # # # #

The two ladies came down fully dressed to find a pristine living room. Next door, in the kitchen, all the works surfaces were gleaming, and the clean table was laid for breakfast, with cereal bowls, glasses and coffee mugs. The boxes of three different breakfast cereals stood proudly next to each other, together with jugs for milk and orange juice. In the background, Skivvy was busily loading a grinder with coffee beans. His butcher’s apron minimised his nakedness.

“Not bad,” Carrie murmured to Kate as they sat to table.

“Get a move on with the coffee,” Kate snapped, not willing to give their new houseboy an inch of leeway.

Carrie sipped orange juice while Kate tucked into a bowl of muesli. Behind them, Skivvy had fired up the percolator, which was burbling away happily, filling the room with its nutty fragrance. He had moved on to finding the coffee mugs which he was placing on the table.

“How’s your bum this morning?” Kate asked him casually.

“Not bad thank you Miss K,” Skivvy murmured.

“Ready for another dose, are you?” Carrie demanded.

“Whenever it would be convenient for you Miss C.”

“You know Skivvy, we think you’ve done a good job so far. If you wanted, we could just employ you as a servant, pay you normal wages, and not whip you the way we did last night. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

The young man looked sulky as he blurted out “That’s not what we agreed Miss C!”

Kate smiled at Carrie. “Well, I for one got a real buzz out of tanning your backside last night Skivvy. You’ve set a high standard for your work, and if you don’t keep up to it, you know what you will get. And that will be over and above your daily hiding!”

“Be careful what you wish for, Skivvy. If you give us a free hand, you might find that we’ll be real bitches!” laughed Carrie.

“Oh you’d never be that Miss C,” Skivvy said earnestly. “You would just be the mistresses I’ve always dreamed of having!”

“Well, you can kiss goodbye to the skin on your backside Skivvy,” said Kate decisively. “Now, what do you have to do to move in here permanently?”

“With your permission, Misses, I’d like to go to my digs this morning, give notice and clear out my room. I don’t have much there, so I should be back by midday, and then I’ll be at your disposal.”

“At our disposal, eh?” Carrie looked thoughtful. “Well, we’ll have to decide what to do with you. We can’t have you prancing around in the nude, the neighbours would talk.”

“Some sort of a uniform, do you think?” Kate suggested.

“Yeah, something to emphasise your status as a Skivvy,” Carrie responded, looking Skivvy over. She took him by an ear and turned him around so that she could look at his rump. “And something that will let us get to this easily when it needs some treatment.”

“Why don’t we shop for him this afternoon?”

“We’ll do that,” Carrie decided. “Meanwhile, we’d better make it clear that you have to eat properly and look after yourself. You eat the same food as us, but you do so after we’ve finished eating. And make sure you wash, and brush your teeth, and keep yourself healthy, because you’ll be no use to us if you’re sick. So clear up this mess, get some breakfast, and then go and sort your digs out.”

Skivvy bowed and set about tidying up while the two women took their coffee cups into the living room.

“We’ve got a meeting with Harriman this morning,” Carrie remarked as she settled herself on the sofa.

Kate made a face. “No doubt he’ll be his usual patronising self,” she groaned.

“Now, now, dear, he may be a pig, but we’ve put in a bid to supply the cleaners for his hotel in Dovecote, and there are three women banking on our being able to get those jobs for them.”

Kate shrugged her shoulders. “Long live the patriarchy, but do patriarchs have to be such pigs?”

“Let’s corner him in his pigsty and see if we can pinch a little from his trough.”

The women laughed and moved on to more agreeable topics. Behind them, in the kitchen, Skivvy was busily clearing up their breakfast things, before getting some food for himself.