She described herself as a woman schooled in the lost art of formal etiquette where women held men’s attention simply by the way they stood, sat, touched an arm in conversation, or allowed their eyes to travel over someone. She proposed that she could instruct me in that art and it could prove valuable in the enticement of clients. After all, she said, using a slut to gain business was all about enticement. It can be done purely slutty or have the slutty be a surprise, which would be more enticing.

She said there were things she desired, though, too. She desired to know and experiment with the feel of the touch of a woman. She also had other desires. Desires that were quite taboo in society and too taboo to attempt to experience them except in the privacy of the estate. I questioned what those taboos were. Even as I asked the question, though, my pussy was sending tingling messages to my nipples and brain and they were responding with increased signals back. She assured me they were not hurtful, at least not more than a hard fuck by a big cock. She smiled.

“You’ve fucked my husband. You know what I mean by that. Are you used to him, yet?”

I nodded, “Mostly, I think.” I was blushing intensely and I knew my nipples were again hard nubs on my breasts and my pussy was again leaking. I hoped the chairs could be cleaned. “He says I will be stretched more. There may be clients with larger cocks.” She looked at her husband. “And, he has mentioned anal.” She gasped.

Apparently, that wasn’t part of their lovemaking.

I WOKE UP with the morning light filtering in through the bedroom window’s sheer curtains. It took me a moment to orient myself. The air and sounds were different. The bedroom was certainly different.

Most different, though, was having one person’s leg draped over mine and another person’s arm draped over my breasts. I don’t know if I slept on my back the entire night or in our sleep, we found positions like this.

Of course, the people entrapping me to the bed were Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn. It was an interesting evening and night. I was sure she had heard the details of my being hired and the days after, but she was adamant about hearing it from me. I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed in the telling. I was sitting naked in the study with them on a couch, each of them stroking my thighs as I related the story including our first and other fucks.

I was relating to a woman about the times I had fucked her husband and she wanted details. And their fingers became more insistent as I told the story. And the drinks. Mr. Woodburn refreshed our drinks numerous times. Sometime in the description of trying to take him deep into my throat and gagging yet again, my legs were pulled open and draped over their legs. Now, two sets of fingers played over my inner thighs and drooling pussy.

WE ENDED up in bed. There was no question of that inevitability. I assisted them in fucking. In a moment of ingenuity, I lay on my back with my head toward the foot of the bed, had her straddle my head, then he came up behind her.

He fucked his wife on her hands and knees while I licked her pussy and clit, my mouth and tongue playing over her and his plunging cock and balls, my fingers working over her hanging breasts and nipples. Periodically, he pulled out of his wife and fed his cock into my mouth, then plunged back into her. She screamed her orgasm and he moaned his along with her as I pinched her nipple and massaged his balls.

After, there was light banter that led me to suck him hard, again. She sat cross-legged and offered with open hands for me to take my turn. And that was an interesting moment. I excitedly jumped at the opportunity.
That was when it crystallized for me. It wasn’t at all that I was just a compliant, accepting slut.

Well … maybe … but not just. I also really, really like to fuck him. I liked the way he fucked. I liked his cock … a lot. I liked being with both of them. I liked being with him and Trudy. I really, really liked fucking, sucking, and eating pussy. I really liked sex! Mr. Woodburn really did know the woman inside me and he was drawing that woman out of me.

“I  you don’t think badly of Charles, my dear.”

We were at the kitchen counter, the two of us pulling together a breakfast. I like this woman. Actually, being in their home with them was showing a side of the Woodburn’s I wouldn’t have guessed. From the outside, he projected an image of wealth and power that would naturally include not only the limo service to and from work but service at home, too. That was the part I found telling about them.

They both treated the home, despite the magnificence of it and the grounds, as a place of retreat. I was sure they had a cleaning service and grounds service that would come in to do major efforts, but they liked their privacy. She enjoyed cooking and last night they shared in doing the cleanup. So, this morning, I found myself assisting her in pulling together the breakfast.

“Why would I think badly of him, Ma’am?” I studied her as she took the egg dish out of the oven.

It was amazingly simple to put together with eggs, sausage, cheese and crumbled bread, then cooked for forty minutes. She was covered with a mid-length, light-fabric robe that covered her, but the tie slowly loosened as she worked requiring her to frequently retie it but also allow glimpses of her otherwise naked body underneath.

Uadmired her body last night. Her extension of my role as her husband’s slut to include her now required that I also remain naked in their home unless otherwise directed. It was a modification I would never have expected.