The Tennant

Don’t get me wrong, I really do like living in a big house with a large garden surrounding it, it presents possibilities way beyond what would be possible if I was living in an apartment or a complex. For one thing, if I feel like strolling around naked on ground floor nobody cares. Sure, if someone had a pair of decent binoculars and knew exactly when to bring them along… but honestly, like that is likely to occur..? 

Either way, me and my husband have way more rooms than we use - and the problem, as I see it, is that those rooms need to be cleaned and heated all though the long and cold winter… and that, my friend, is not for free. Thus, after many and lengthy discussions we have decided to take in a person to live in the rooms on the top floor. It’s really like a small apartment, I think the maid used to live there many years ago - and you can enter it from the balcony on the north side or by the big entrance, the person living there wouldn’t even have to see his or her landlords. There is a kitchenette upstairs, but it needs renovation and we are not really sure about the pipes. The apartment upstairs connects to the main hall and kitchen downstairs. We usually do not cook in the evenings, unless a party is planned, and then a professional chef will be in the kitchen. Recently, we did not have many of those special occasions though. 

Last week I put an ad up for a room to let for a quiet and well-behaved person. The monthly rate is more than decent, but then again - we do live a little away from everything. It is why we love this place… but it is obviously not very practical for a person who needs to be in the city early in the mornings. I’ve received a bunch of answers, my husband has consigned me with the responsibility to look them through and present three possible tenants and I’ve been going through them, reducing the possible renters one by one until there are three left. Don’t want a too young person, I’ve got other things to do than to play an extra mother. I would prefer someone who’s got their way with words and seems reasonably educated… and who looks nice. For me it doesn’t really matter much what gender the tenant is, I just want someone with whom I can have a conversation with - but also somebody that is okay with me just nodding as we pass each other in the garden. 

What is left now of what was a list of over twenty possible persons is a group on three persons - one lady and two men - who all seem like nice people… but I know who I would prefer. There’s a man, studying at the university in the nearby town, he seems mature, responsible and I like the looks of him - he is one of those who included a picture in his message and I like that, it gives me a sense of the person - although I know that looks can be deceiving. 

My husband just quickly looked through the alternatives I had chosen and told me to pick whichever one I thought would be best suited - he trusts my judgement and it would, after all, be I who had the most interaction with the person. I contemplated to invite all three for separate meetings… but decided against it. It would take so much time and by now I’d rather just be done with the decision. The man with the nice looking picture it is. I immediately sit down to send him an email and propose that he come to look at the room and meet us - and if everything turns out as I hope he can move in the following day, after we write contract and sort the economic matters out. 

I know that modern people live connected to the internet, but I’ll admit that I am surprised to receive an answer to my message less than ten minutes after I’ve sent it. The gentleman very politely accepts my proposal and suggests that he come by tomorrow at lunch time, if that would be appropriate? My husband is currently away on a business trip, but he has given me responsibility to handle this matter, so I quickly send a message where I agree. I do look forward to having all this sorted out and the sooner I meet him, the sooner we’ll be done. 

Early the next morning I wave my husband off and then continue with the usual domestic work and I’m out in the garden, pulling out weeds when I hear a car driving up. Ours is the last house on the road, so we rarely have any traffic here - apart from the postman, some deliveries and surprisingly many german tourists who lost their way. I straighten up and pull off my gardening gloves as I walk towards the gates. I discover a spot of dirt on the front of my dress and try to quickly rub it off, but to no avail, if anything it just makes the spot spread. Ah, so what. That’s what happens if you work in the garden, I figure, I just wish that it hadn’t been in such an obvious place, directly over my right breast. 

The man at the gates lifts his hand to greet me and I wave back. He follows the garden path up to the house and I meet him halfway and we introduce ourselves. I like his hand shake, it is firm and warm, feels reliable somehow. I notice him quickly looking me over, obviously doing the same I did - and it seems we both kind of like what we see. His smile includes the eyes - and I may not be an all that excellent judge of character, but when somebody smiles with both mouth and eyes - it usually is a good sign. 

We make smalltalk as I show him in through the main entrance and I lead the way through the large kitchen and up the stairs to the room he is about to make his home. I sense his eyes on the backside of my naked legs as we ascend the steps and I think to myself that it might not have been that good an idea to wear this dress today, but then again - I’m sure he’s seen a pair of legs before. Nevertheless I get a little bit nervous, I’m not used to having strangers this close to me. When we reach the top of the stairs I fumble for the key…  and drop it to the floor. Before I think it through I bend forward to grab it and as I do, of course, my dress glides up showing my legs all the way up to my behind. 

As I rise up, key in my hand, I can feel myself blushing. The man standing behind me certainly tries his best to keep his face straight, but his eyes are giving him away - even though he does a good job of not smiling… too much. I can’t resist looking up at his face and our eyes lock. I’m not sure if it is possible, but it feels like I’m blushing even more. I haven’t even noticed that the hem of my dress has gotten stuck over my arse until he reaches out and smooths it down for me, his hand stroking lightly over my backside. 

The light touch is enough to make my breath hitch in my throat and my heart is beating wildly, but I look away and try to pretend like nothing has happened as I swing the door open and start talking about how we rarely come upstairs to check these rooms, I just prepared one of the rooms for him. If he does not like this one, he can change it to another, but he needs to take care of preparing the other room himself. I stand firmly and tell him to please enter the room. He politely responds "After you!". I insist and he with a slight smirk he saunters past me, walking straight over to the window and looks outside. His V-shaped body catches my eyes as he approaches the window. The shadow of his body covers me and I give myself permission to check out his behind, as I caught him earlier seizing the moment while I was picking up the key. When he moves away from the window the stark light almost blinds me and I can only make out the shape of him - but again, I do get the feeling that he has a cheeky grin on his face while looking at me.

The rest of the visit goes as planned, he likes the small apartment and agrees to the rental terms - so half an hour later the contract is signed and he has sent the first weekly payment by swish to my phone. Before he drives off we take a quick walk around the house and I show him the parking space for his car, just where the stairs lead up to our shared balcony and the door to his living quarters. I tell him that he has free use of the garden too, just please let me know in advance if he plans on having people over for a party or such.  

It is early evening when he returns to the house, I hear the sounds of wheels rolling up the gravel of our driveway. It makes me a bit nervous and even though I’m pretty sure I know why I react this way I make an excellent job of fooling myself. I tell myself that it’s just that I’m not used to having anyone around in the house, apart from my husband of course - or when we invite company over. But to have a stranger staying here..? That’s a different story. I open the front door and wave for him to stop the car outside the main entrance. It doesn’t look like he’s brought a lot, but still - to carry those boxes and bags up the rather rickety stairs to the balcony..? It’s better to use the way through the kitchen and the much sturdier flight of stairs in the house for now. 

The whole afternoon I’ve been feeling this light buzz in my body, like if there’s a slight electrical current running under my skin. I’ve been telling myself that it is normal, just a reaction to small changes in my everyday life. While he starts carrying the heavier boxes into the house I try to make myself useful carrying some of his bags and trunks up to his new lodgings. They aren’t that heavy really, but a couple of trips up and down the stairs make me slightly out of breath and very thirsty. I take a break up in his apartment to grab a glass of water and I lean out the open window to let the light breeze cool me off a bit. That is how I still stand when I hear a loud bang behind me when he drops one of the boxes to the floor. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I stand still, fully knowing that my arse is sticking out and that this position shows more than I ought to show - we’ve already established that from earlier today. I even move my hips slightly from left to right before I turn my head and look over my shoulder at him. He stands completely still just inside the door with his hands hanging by his sides… and his eyes are glued to my behind. While looking at him I wiggle my ass again and this time he seems to realise that I am watching him. This time it’s my turn to have a cheeky grin as I wink at him. He turns abruptly and heads down the stairs again - and I curse myself for being so… obvious! God! For all I know he could be extremely religious or… a monk! Or… Stupid, stupid, stupid… Now I’ve found someone who I feel okay with living in the same house as me - and the first thing I do is scare him off? 

I’m so busy mentally smacking myself that I don’t notice at first that he has re-entered the room until I hear a jingling sound… and he moves quickly from the door and grabs my right hand. Click. Confused I look at him and then at my wrist. He has cuffed my hand and before I realise what’s going on he grabs my arms, both the one with the cuff and the other one. He is standing so close, I feel his warm breath, his smell… and my breasts rubbing against his chest as  he is lifting my arms over my head and… Click. Another handcuff - and both my hands are attached to the curtain rod. Now this is… unexpected. And even more unexpected is that he walks away, disappear once again down the stairs. 

I look at where the rod is attached to the wall, it looks sturdy - but I am pretty sure I could yank it away from the wall without if I put in a bit of effort… but how would I explain that to my husband? I’m still standing there when the new tenant comes back upstairs with another box - possibly the last one, since he puts it down and shoves the door closed. Slowly he walks up to the window and stands beside me - he is acting as if I was just standing here admiring the view, looking out over the garden and the apple trees over by the gate. Then he sighs a bit and turns to face me. 

”You can’t  expect to get away with such behaviour when I’m around. That simply will not do. Since you maybe weren’t aware I will go easy on you this first time - but if you do such a thing again… Well, you’ll have to take the consequences.”

I stare at him, not quite believing my ears. I’m his new landlord - and he thinks he can tell me what I can or cannot do? It he joking..? He looks back at me, I almost get the feeling he is daring me to object - and rest assured, normally I would not only object, I would rip that contract and send him packing… but apart from feeling completely flabbergasted I also notice that I am getting preposterously horny and I find myself nodding. 

”Good.” he says and reaches into his pockets for the key to the cuffs holding my hands aloft - but before he lets me loose he slides his hand in under the hem of my dress, up over my arse and hips, he says nothing - the only sounds are his breath - and my slightly breathless one… and pulls down my panties, in the still I can hear the sound when they land on the wooden floor. He tells me to step out of them before bending down and picking them up, stuffing them into his back pocket. Then he releases me and very politely opens the door for me. 

”Good night. I’m sure we’ll see each other in the morning - just one more thing; when you enter my apartment, you are not allowed to wear your bra. Are we clear?” He turns away, looking out the window - it is obvious that he doesn’t expect an answer nor an objection. These are his rules, this is the way it is going to be.

In a haze I walk out the door, I hear it closing behind me and I just stand there for almost a minute to compose myself before I slowly walk down the stairs. 

I’ve made myself a cup of tea and when my husband gets home some twenty minutes later I’m sitting in the lounge sipping my tea, still trying to figure out what the heck just happened and what I ought to do about it. Should I tell my husband? What would he do? He made it my responsibility to find a tenant for the upstairs apartment - and now this..? I’m sure it will reflect badly on me, apparently I am a terrible judge of character.

”Honey, I’m home!” 

I get up and offer to make him a cup of tea as well and while I stand with my back to him I decide to just say it…

”Dear, you wouldn’t believe what happened - I helped the new tenant to carry his things upstairs and he chained me to the curtain rod and gave me rules to obey, because he though I was misbehaving, can you believe it?”

My husband is mumbling something and I turn around. ”Sorry dear, what was that..?” 

”Honey, I’m sure you just misunderstood - is that my tea?” 

I walk over to him with the teacup and he accepts it while absentmindedly looking through the newspaper. If anything I’m more confused than ever. Has he not understood what I said? I still have that feeling of excitement glowing in my body, I would really like to get seriously sexed up. Casually I hop up on the kitchen table beside my husband and knowing very well I have no panties on I push the newspaper out of the way and wiggle over so I’m sitting straight in front of him with my legs lightly spread. I take the teacup from him and put his hand on the inside of my thigh instead. 

”Oh honey, not tonight, I have an early meeting tomorrow morning…” he pushes back the chair and gets up, kissing me on the forehead before disappearing into the study. 

I feel so incredibly stupid and… humiliated. I glance over to the stairs again before I shake my head and decide to just go to bed instead. 

I wake up early the following morning, even though it took me a long time to fall asleep. What happened upstairs, myself getting so excited about it all - and then my husband's strange reaction - kept going through my mind and I just couldn’t make sense of it. I did consider getting myself off, but just then my husband decided to come to bed. He spent some time reading in the light of his bedside lamp before putting away his books and falling asleep almost instantly. If anything that just made it hard for me to fall asleep and I am still a bit upset when I wake up, it’s probably a good thing he has already left for work. I can’t see the morning paper, though, so I put on my bathrobe and walk down to the gates. I shake the paper vigorously to make sure I get rid of any potential earwigs, they seem to enjoy the news too, before slowly walking back up to the house. A movement catches my eye and on the top floor I see the naked torso of a man in the window where I was stuck yesterday evening. 

The memory makes me blush, so I pretend to have heard something, turning away from the house to get a few moments to cool off. When I start walking again I can’t see anyone upstairs so I figure the new tenant is busy doing… things.

I slowly walk up the steps to the kitchen door while eying through the front side news. As usual it is mostly war, terror and idiotic world leaders. It saddens me and scares me that such morons are allowed to be in charge all over the world… I press down the handle on the door using my elbow and push the door open with my shoulder while still reading and that is the reason I don’t notice until too late that there is someone in my kitchen. 

The voice comes from behind me and it makes me jump. 

”Put your hands on the kitchen table and lean forward.” I start to object, but he cuts me short. ”Now.” 

I do as I’m told, I take two steps forward and set my hands down onto the smooth wooden planks that is our kitchen table. 

”Now I want you to be quiet and not speak unless I tell you to.” 

I nod. The second I heard his voice it felt like heat exploded all over my skin. I’m going to do whatever he tells me to. Well… maybe not anything. I still feel humiliated for being so blatantly discarded by my husband yesterday evening and the excitement I felt during the evening yesterday still hasn’t completely evaporated. To just hear his voice is like dosing glowing embers with gasoline. 

I haven’t yet dressed, so I am only clad in my morning kimono and a sheer nightgown - never did put on any panties yesterday evening, because - let’s face it - I was sort of hoping for some action in the matrimonial bed… so when he repeats the move from yesterday evening, running his hands up my legs and arse… well. There is nothing to pull down. I hear him laughing quietly to himself. He slowly pulls up my kimono and gown and then steps away from me. Why, oh why does he always step away from me? It is driving me insane! This time he is not long gone, I can feel his hands over my behind, running down the backside of my thighs and I lean slightly back, to get some more of that lovely feeling - but then I do something hits my left arse cheek with a loud smack and I collide with the table when I try to escape it. Again, smack, this time over the other side. I squirm, trying to get away from the pain raining over my poor behind, but his hand shoots out and grabs me over the neck, pushing my head down onto the wooden surface and holding me still. Smack. Smack… how many has it been? My behind is burning - but at the same time the feeling of being out of control entices me and I try to press my thighs together not to reveal that I am getting real wet. That action apparently only serves to draw his attention to it and now I feel his fingers sliding over my poor arse, down to my wet pussy. I feel mortified…

His large hand presses my legs apart and while keeping one hand still on my neck, making sure I don’t move, he slides his fingers over my pussy, one finger pushing inside me while the other glides over my wet pussy lips. Again, there is that quiet laughter, this time I feel rather than hear it. The grip over my neck loosens as does his hand between my legs. I begin to straighten up from my position, I feel extremely vulnerable, but he stops me with a sharp ”Stay.” Like I’m a bloody dog, I won’t accept this… I continue up but the pain over my arse makes me yelp, he’s obviously using the spatula from over by the stove to spank me and goodness gracious me - it hurts like a motherfucker! 

”I said stay.” His hands pushes me back into the previous position, bent over the large kitchen table. My kimono and nightgown have slid back down covering my private parts, but that doesn’t remain for long. I feel cold steel against my neck and hear the sound of fabric getting cut in half. He’s found the big kitchen knife and that will be it for my clothing. The knife is very sharp, I like my kitchen utensils functional, and the feeling of it sliding along my naked skin makes me shiver. The sheer fabric falls apart, one bundle of former kimono and gown on each side of my body lands on the table before sliding to the floor. 

I am now completely naked and if I felt vulnerable before it’s nothing to how I feel now. Even the pain from the spatula landing on my bum I feel more sharply than before now I’ve got nothing to hide behind. After a few more slaps he seems content that I have received the message and he puts away the tool. I’m still bent over with my cheek pressed to the smooth wood as I see him walking past me and go upstairs. I don’t move. The minutes pass and I can hear his steps over the floor upstairs. I try to turn my head a little bit more to see the kitchen clock over the door. It’s been over ten minutes now. I remain still. Finally I hear the floor boards in the stairs creaking as he returns down to the kitchen. It’s been close to half an hour, I haven’t moved. The burning sensation in my behind has almost faded away, it’s more like a glow than fire now… and actually kind of pleasant.  

When he steps into the kitchen he actually smiles at me from the door. 

”I see you are an avid learner. That is good, it will make things easier and possibly more pleasant for you.”

I remain still and quiet as he rounds the table and stands behind me. His hands run over my back, my hips, my bottom… and then his hand is back between my legs, checking if I’m still wet… and I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that I probably am. He seems to approve of the result and I hear the zip of his fly. I can’t see anything from where I am with my face down on my own kitchen table but I sure can feel the smoothness of his hard cock sliding over my pussy, down to my clit and then back up - and without further ado he enters me. Slowly, almost gently at first, getting the feel for my body… then successively his thrust get harder and deeper. He’s got one hand over my neck, pressing me down and one holding my hip, steering me. It is obvious that this is not anything even in the vicinity of ”making love” - he is checking out the merchandise and marking me as his. Every powerful thrust makes me bang my pelvis against the wooden table board, I’m going to end up with bruises… but that obviously is none of his concern. He pulls out of me and with a few more pulls of his hand warm cum spray my ass, my back and I’m pretty sure I’ve got some in my hair as well. He wipes his hand off on my waist, turns and leaves. Just before he walks up the stairs he stops briefly and speaks:

”You are not to shower nor wash off. Not until I tell you to.”

My mind is spinning - I have this man's sperm over my whole backside and in my hair… my husband will be returning within a few hours - but I’m not allowed to shower? I realise he is talking again.

”Today you will wear a dress, no panties. You may wear a bra as long as you are outside - but as soon as you enter the house, the bra comes off. Are we clear?”

”Yes.”

”…yes… what?”

”Yes Master, sorry Master.”

”Right. Now make some coffee. I believe it is your husband's car I hear on the driveway.”

My first reaction, silly enough, is to do what I’m told and turn the coffee maker on - before it hits me that I am completely naked and that my backside is spray painted with another man's cum. I’d better find a dress and a bra to put on. I rush into the wardrobe and yank a flowery dress off the hanger, I almost rip two of the buttons off in my hurry to get dressed. I actually skip the bra for now… but I grab a bottle of perfume and spray over me. It feels kind of wrong to be smelling of sex when you meet your husband in the door, wouldn’t you say? I hope the perfume will cover it up… I’ve got just enough time to get the coffee started before the man of the house stands on the door. 

”Honey, I’m home!” I try not to roll my eyes at the kliché when I turn around to greet him.

”Welcome home dear, it’s so good to see you so soon. Would you like some coffee? Did the meeting go well?”  I am very well aware that I sound like a blasted Stepford wife, but it really is all I can do not to fall to pieces - what have I done, who is that man I have allowed access into my house, into my LIFE..? 

I’m just vaguely aware that my husband is talking away while I pour his coffee and stir down the sweetener for him. He sits at the exact spot where his wife was fucked less than five minutes ago, leaning his elbow on the table - and I freeze when I see the white spots on the surface just where I am about to place the coffee cup. 

”Dear, it is such nice weather, shouldn’t we rather take the coffee outside on the porch?” I don’t wait for him to answer, but turn around and walk to the door. It is true, of course, the weather IS wonderful…  He walks behind me and mumbles away as usual, I don’t listen very closely.

”Honey, you’ve got some whiteish goo in your hair..!” I almost drop the cup because I know fully well what that white goo is. 

”Oh, it’s just sunscreen - I thought I’d work in the garden today and I don’t want to get burned.” 

I have to congratulate myself for finding such a plausible explanation - and besides, I had considered spending the day in the garden. 

”Right, of course. You are so thoughtful, dear…” I can tell that his mind is somewhere else, he’s got that absentminded look in his eyes and even though I usually get annoyed when I sense that he isn’t listening to me, right now I could not be more thankful… and to be perfectly honest, I don’t listen all that attentively to what he’s saying either and that’s why I get a bit taken aback when I suddenly hear ”…and I should be back Tuesday evening, Wednesday at the latest. I’ll take a cab to the airport so you’ll have the car, of course.”

”I’m sorry dear, where did you say you were going?” 

He sighs ”London, honey, like I said. The board will convene over the weekend and I obviously have to be there. I know we talked about having a barbecue, but you’ll have to cancel or reschedule for another time.”

Damn. I forgot about that barbecue - thank goodness he reminded me, that could have turned out really awkward had I not gotten this reminder. 

”Yes dear, of course. Shall I cancel for now and get back to the guests later with another date?” 

At exactly this moment our new tenant comes around the corner. He looks relaxed and if I didn’t know better I’d believe he was just as well-behaved as he seems. It hits me that they haven’t actually met and I will have to introduce them to each other. 

”Oh dear, this is our new tenant, you know, the one we spoke about? This is my husband, I don’t think you’ve met?” In my ears I sound flustered and my voice has an odd ring to it, but they don’t seem to notice. They shake hands and make smalltalk while I do what I can to appear normal. 

”I was wondering if it would be possible to have a few friends over this weekend? No drinking or anything like that, we’re just going to work on our essay - for the exam.”

My husband can’t believe his luck - such a nice young man. Before I can say anything he has agreed to the tenant to have friends over and I’m not sure if I ought to be relieved or terrified.

”Would you care for a cup of coffee?” I ask our tenant, just to say something. He smiles at me and says that he’d love a cup of coffee, thank you. I turn to go back into the kitchen to fetch him a cup and I am just about to turn in the doorway to ask him if he would like sugar or milk - when I realise he has followed me. He smiles and it doesn’t look like a friendly smile. It looks like a wolf grin. 

”I thought I’d help you, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

There is nothing I can say or do, he really is just being helpful… or so it seems for my husband who nods at me from over in his chair. He seems to think that I’ve found the perfect tenant. Polite, helpful and well-behaved. Yeah right…

We’ve hardly even entered the kitchen until he grabs me and pushes me up against the wall, his hands squeezing my naked bottom under the dress, his breath hot against my neck. 

”I will be giving you some rules to follow during the weekend - I overheard your husband saying he was going to be away. You will know how you are to behave and you will be the hostess during my little gathering. Are we clear?”

”Yes… Master.” 

His hands are merciless and that smile is deadly… My husband is drinking coffee just on the other side of the wall and this man now has one hand on my left breast, his thumb stroking over the hard nipple and his other hand is between my legs, I feel two fingers entering my pussy. My legs feel all weak and the scent of him, he smells like… man. He smells more like a man than any man I have ever encountered. I don’t know what it is, I just know that it makes me feel like I’m just putty in his hands - he can do with me whatever he pleases.

I almost fall when he steps away and turns for the coffee maker. 

One minute later our new tenant and my husband are small talking over a cup of coffee out on the porch while I make myself busy tending to the flower beds. I can’t sit down and join the conversation between the man who fucked me less than an hour ago and the man to whom I am married… but I can’t just leave, I want to know what they talk about… or more specifically, if they were to talk about me. I feel a bit like a school girl sneaking around the boys to eavesdrop as I lay on all fours, picking out the weeds. A naughty schoolgirl with no panties and no bra, at that. 

I get up to empty my weed-filled bucket in the compost when I hear my husband calling out for me.

”Honey, I’ll just pack my bags, could you call me a cab to pick me up at half past one?”

”Of course, dear. Would you like me to help you pack?” 

”No honey, I’ll just use the over-night bag and bring some extra shirts. Thanks honey, that’s okay.” 

I leave the bucket where it is and goes in to call the cab company my husband prefers, the one that has Tesla cabs. I even manage to get him that specific cab driver he likes so much. 

During the time up to when my husband is to be picked up I walk from one room to the next, not really doing anything at all, I’m just moving things from one place to the next… and then back again. I contact the people we were going to have over for that barbecue and apologise that we have to cancel, I promise to get back to them with a new date as soon as things have settled. 

I haven’t been this nervous in ages, I really do feel a bit like that schoolgirl from before. Time goes quickly and very slowly at the same time, but now the time has come to kiss my husband farewell and wave him off. He kisses me on the forehead and gets settled in the cab while the driver loads his bags into the trunk. I can’t see our tenant anywhere, but I am positive he is watching and biding his time. Time that he will have in abundance for the days to come.

I expect him to make a move as soon as my husband is out of the way, but surprisingly enough he is nowhere to be seen during the afternoon. My regular chores keep me busy and at dinner time I’ve almost forgotten why I still wear no panties. I heat up some leftovers in the oven and I’m just about to sit down and eat when he strolls into the kitchen like he owns it. Without saying a word he sits down opposite me at the table and he watches me as I try to eat my dinner in a normal fashion. I would like to make him believe that his presence doesn’t affect me, but I get clumsier than ever, drop my fork with a loud rattling noise and I almost miss my own mouth completely when I drink, pouring water down the front of my dress. 

I manage to eat most of the food without accidentally stabbing myself in the eye or anything else painful or ungracious, but finally I just put down the cutlery and look at him across the table. The water that dribbled down the front of my sheer flowery dress has made it partially transparent and I am very well aware that my nipples are almost painfully erect under the thin fabric - and so is he, I can tell by the lopsided smirk. 

He pushes a paper across the table and I look at it - it seems to be a shopping list. I’m confused… 

”You will be the hostess for my little gathering during this weekend. This is what you need to shop. The guests will be arriving Saturday at noon and I’ll expect you to serve refreshments wearing a french maids dress.” 

My first reaction is to laugh out loud. He cannot be serious. Really..? The look I get from across the table tells me that he is dead serious indeed. 

”But where am I going to get a french maid’s dress before Saturday?”

”Not my problem. You should probably get busy preparing. I will expect you to serve my guests whatever they want and whenever they want it, no questions asked.”

I swallow hard. I am equal parts excited and terrified.

”Yes Master.” 

Saturday morning has arrived and I have been busier than ever preparing for the upcoming gathering as I’ve been instructed by our tenant - and yes, I have managed to get hold of a french maids dress from a shop that obviously does not charge by the amount of fabric used in the costume. The dress is ridiculously short, ending just below my arse cheeks and leaving my thighs naked down to where the black stockings cover my legs. I hope I won’t have to move fast, because the heels I’ve been instructed to wear are higher than any heels I’ve ever worn before - adding a full decimeter to my height… and yes, it’s all topped off with a stupid, frilly and white hair band/cap. I feel approximately 75% silly and 25% sexy wearing it, but I am not going to give my tenant any reason to complain if I can help it. 

Time is moving very quickly and very slowly at the same time - and I can’t make up my mind what’s worst. I am extremely nervous and at the same time I feel strangely aroused to be reduced to being the help. I’m pacing up and down the front of the house, all the time listening for the engines that will bring the guests into my house… although this weekend the house isn’t really mine. It is the tenant that will be the master of my home and I will act as his hostess. The clock passes noon and I’m getting more nervous by the minute… but now, finally I can hear distant cars and yes, they seem to be coming this way. 

I hurry to the kitchen to pour the welcome drinks and arrange the platter with hors d'oeuvres, I hear the cars driving up the gavel of the driveway and the tenant has opened the doors. I hear them greeting each other and I take a deep breath, smooth out my white apron and then make my way to join them with the champagne and the appetizers. I curtsy when the tenant presents me as his maid, but stay silent and keep my gaze to the ground. I hear them commenting on my outfit, my legs, my breasts as they toast to the weekend and catch up on what happened since last time they met, but apart from the comments it’s like I didn’t exist, I could just as well have been a piece of furniture. This makes me somewhat annoyed and at the same time it is a relief. Maybe this will go more smoothly than I’ve feared… Feared AND hoped for, to be perfectly honest, hence the vexation over the fact that I don’t get more attention from the guests. 

The tenant - the master of the house for this weekend - welcomes the guests into the dining room and tells me to start serving the starter. I bring the wine bottles from our extensive wine cellar and pour the white wine. I very nearly spill wine over the table cloth when one of the guests pinches my behind, but manage to keep a straight face and just move on to the next while he sniggers behind me. After offering bread I collected the plates and serve them. They chat and eat and seem to have forgotten all about me, no-one even seems to notice when I refill their glasses, and I remain still and wait patiently until it’s time to clear the plates. Again they seem to be reminded by my presence and I hear the tenant explaining to them that I will be there to serve them whatever they wish for the extent of their stay. His remark is met by approving cheers from more than one of his friends and one of them demands a large whisky while they wait for the main course. I bring him a glass of the whisky my husband usually drinks and quietly ask if he wishes ice or water with it. He just laughs and downs the whisky in one gulp before telling me to get him another one just like it. My master breaks in and tells me to first serve the main course and I obey, serving the red wine and then bringing in the plates. When they all have food in front of them I make myself busy in the kitchen for a while, putting away the dishes and preparing the cheese platter that is to be served next. 

When the cheese is presented nicely on a wooden plate I return to the dining room and a cold shiver runs down my spine as I meet the eyes of the tenant. He is obviously not happy with me - and I notice that all the wine glasses are empty. I rush to fill them up, but this is not enough to make him pleased with my performance. His eyes are following every move I make and it is making me so nervous I spill bright red wine over the white table cloth. The conversation goes dead silent as I fervently pat on the fabric with a napkin and I feel the weight of all eyes on me. Like on command they all reach in and pick up their wine glasses and then the tenant get up from his chair. He walks slowly around the table to where I’m standing and stops, he is standing a little too close for comfort and he doesn’t say anything. I can’t make myself meet his gaze, I’m feeling like a school girl who’s been summoned to the principal’s office for some offence. I breathe out when he steps away and returns to his chair - but quickly realise that I’ve relaxed too soon. He pulls the chair back from the table, very slowly and the sound makes me cringe on the inside. 

”Get over here.” His voice is cold and I hesitate for a moment… a moment too long. 

”Now!” I repress the impulse to turn and run the other way and make my way over to where he sits. 

”Remove your panties, walk over and hand them to him and bend down over my knee.” He points to the man sitting on the opposite side of the table. Again I hesitate and again he roars ”Now!” I am still very reluctant, but it’s not going to be pleasant if I don’t do as I’m told immediately. I reach in under the dress skirt and pull down the flimsy material of my panties, stepping out of them and then bending down to pick them up. 

”Keep your legs straight, bitch!” 

I do as I’m told and thank the yoga practice for being able to obey his order - it’s a long way down to the floor with these high heels, but I manage without too much trouble. Eager eyes follow me as I move around the table, I stop briefly and hand my panties over to the man sitting opposite of the tenant, then walk along the other side of the table back to my master where I follow his instructions and bend over his knee - I have a pretty good idea of what is about to happen and yes… I’m about to get my behind slapped in front of his guests, like I’m a disobedient little girl. 

The feelings in me are colliding, crashing into each other… I am mortified, it is so incredibly undignified to lie in his lap with my naked bottom sticking up and to have my arse receiving slap after slap, he isn’t hitting all that hard, but it is enough to make my bum turn bright red - presumably matching my blushing face. The room is silent apart from the loud smacks when his hand hits my skin, when I sneak a look towards the table I can only see the person sitting closest on the side of the table where my head is… and he has pushed his chair back and is turned towards us, his hand rubs a hard bump in the trousers and I can only imagine that he is not the only one. This fact turns me on immensely, I can feel the heat building between my legs… and that is the exact moment when the tenant decides I’ve had enough and pushes me off his knee. I tumble to the floor in front of his feet, landing on my stomach, legs apart with the skirt still revealing my red ass as well as my wet pussy. 

”Clear the table, bitch.” 

I get up on all four, trying to gather myself and what is left of my pride, and then I get up. I pull at the hem of my french maid’s dress and smooth out the apron before I straighten up and start collecting the plates from the table. They are all watching me, nobody is speaking, but I do hear silent sniggering behind my back. Once I’ve taken all the plates and the cutlery I walk out to the kitchen area, keeping my back straight and my head high. They will not break me… I run cold tap water over my wrists to calm down and take deep breaths. There. I can do this. I’ve been the hostess of countless dinners, gatherings of different kinds and I can take whatever they throw at me. Right..? Right. Another deep breath and I return out to the dining room carrying the cheese platter and a basket full of various crackers… and a smile. I put the tray down on the table and start serving the port to go with the last dish on the menu and then I collect that glass of whisky that one of them ordered before main course and before my spanking. I silently congratulate myself for remembering, they won’t have a reason for punishing me due to neglecting to bring him his order… even though I have a hunch that there will be other transgressions, real or made up, that I will have to answer to. 

The tenant speaks up. ”It’s time you changed into the next uniform, bitch. We expect you to be back serving us within five minutes.” 

I kind of hoped he would forget about that. The next uniform is not exactly what I would call a uniform. As a matter of fact, it is hardly clothing at all - and I thought I felt exposed in this maid’s dress… I curtsy and turn to do as I’m told - only to realise that he has brought the items I should wear next into the dining room. They are on the sideboard next to the door to my office and it becomes clear that I will not have any privacy changing into them. Oh well… I can play this game too.

I bend over, slowly rolling the stockings down over my legs, very aware that I am giving them full sight right up the very short dress… and replace them with fishnet stay ups and I take my time getting them to sit the way I want them. Then I twirl slowly while pulling the zipper down on the side of the dress, I let it slide down over my shoulders, baring my breasts and pretend to be shy, covering my nipples with my hands while I peer over to the table. They are all sitting completely still and staring at my every move, they are looking a bit silly really… apart from the tenant, who is actually smiling. I caress my own body while slipping out of the dress and as it falls to the floor I am almost naked, apart from the stay ups, the excessively high heels and the excuse for a bra that leaves my breasts almost fully exposed. I take the few steps to the sideboard, exaggeration the sway of my hips…  A quick glance over my shoulder shows that I still have their complete attention, I’m pretty sure the guy who got my panties is actually drooling. I push my breasts out a bit more as I let the black piece of clothing slide over my skin, it is a transparent thing that was described as a dress on the package. Let me tell you, this is no dress. This is a way of gift-packing the female body. 

There. Black, ridiculously high heels, fishnet stay-ups, this excuse of a dress and something that might be called a bra. That is my ensemble for serving the coffee and the avecs. I have a feeling I just might be included in the prospect of avec this evening. 

Another deep breath, I put a bright smile on my face and grab the tray with the prepared avecs before I turn and stride towards the table. Their eyes are glued to me and I sway my hips a little extra, maybe I’m exaggerating, but why not I think to myself. This is sort of a theatre, isn’t it? One of those interactive plays. The people know their roles, but not what will happen. I am determined to take back at least a bit of control. Silently I make my way around the table, putting down the glasses with whisky, cognac or calvados along with the coffee cups, before I head out to the kitchen and fetch the coffee. 

When I return they have started talking again, but they seem less like guys on a stag party now - and I’m not quite sure if that is good or bad news for me. I pour the coffee and retreat to my place in the corner where I stand quietly and wait for my orders. After a little while the tenant snaps his fingers and point to his cup. I rush to fill it up, but when I lean in with the coffeepot he grabs me and pushes me down onto the table. Cups and glasses fall over and the surface of the table gets stained with brown and amber liquid. As if on cue hands shoot out and grab me, holding me down. Again I am face down on a table and again I sense him behind me. I don’t fight or struggle this time, I know it will do me no good. My heart is beating wildly, but on the surface I probably seem very calm. 

History repeats itself and once again I feel the cold steel of a knife cutting through the sheer fabric covering my body. 

I’m not actually surprised when the guests suddenly produce rope and my wrists are tied and secured over the sides of the large table top. I feel my ankles getting cuffed too and my legs are pulled apart, leaving me vulnerable and open. The former black dress is pulled from under me and rolled together it works surprisingly well as a blindfold - a bit bulky, but it effectively hinders me from seeing anything, so now I only have my other senses to guide me. I hear them moving around the table and the soft sound of fabric, clothes I’m guessing, being dropped to the floor to my right. Someone slides his hand under my chest and grabs my breast, squeezing it hard and pinching my nipple. Two - no, three - hands are caressing my behind and the back of my thighs. Those hands are almost tender - but I’m guessing that’ll change and I brace myself. Someone grabs me around the waist and lifts me up from the table surface, something - a pillow? A piece of clothing? - is stuffed under my stomach, lifting my ass up and forcing me up on my toes even in those high heels. That’s when the first blow lands over the back of my legs. It’s not that a hard blow, but even though I thought I was prepared it does make me yelp. That is the start of some abuse of my poor backside - the blows land almost without pause and my left side seems to receive a harder whipping which would make sense if there are two persons taking turns with one flogger each. The skin on my arse feels like it’s on fire, I hadn’t really recovered from the humiliating spanking during dinner. The rhythmical beating is relentless and I am close to starting to sob when it suddenly stops. 

Even the soft caress my bottom now receives feels almost too much, but I slowly start to relax under the soft hands. Somebody slides his hand down between my legs, pressing lightly against my pussy and my clitoris. By the feeling I can tell that my treacherous body has reacted to their actions with arousal. Those fingers easily slide into me, one finger, then one more presses into me while my clit receives a rubbing movement. I don’t even realise that I’m arching my back and pushing back against those hands until the fingers in my pussy is replaced by a hard cock slamming into me. At first he goes slowly, but the speed rapidly increases and after a very short time he pulls out and my back is sprayed with warm liquid. I hardly have the time to react before another takes his place and presses deep inside me and starts fucking me hard and fast. The hand over my clit is still there, there must be one person that stands on the side that has that particular task and he sure knows what he is doing. The feeling of being mercilessly fucked, my burning behind and that gentle pressure rubbing my clitoris is making my head spin. I receive a couple of very remorseless thrusts that push me hard against the table before he too pulls out and cums over my back. This time I know what’s to come so I’m not taken by surprise when a new hard cock enters me - but I do get a little taken aback that he simultaneously presses a finger (I guess) against my anus. That is, according to me, an exit, not an entrance… and I immediately clench, trying to get away, but there are so many sensations going on at the same time and those fingers rubbing my clit very slowly are pushing me closer and closer to an orgasm - and that cock moving inside me feels so good - it feels like I’m short-circuiting here, I relax more and more and that finger has now managed to pass the outer barrier into my rectum and it just feels so very, very odd… but that sensation is almost completely drowned out by the first waves of an orgasm building rapidly inside me. I’ve started moaning and I push back towards the person standing behind me and when I do, to get his cock deeper inside me that also means I’m pushing myself towards that finger and there’s no denying now; I’m being penetrated both in my pussy and in my ass. Even though the latter is only with one finger it still is a completely new sensation to me and it is not unpleasant, exactly… and thus, when he suddenly pulls out of me it makes me feel doubly empty - and that orgasm drops away for me - fuck, I was so close..! 

When I am now bent over the table, still tightly bound to hands and feet and the room goes completely quiet - and nobody touches me… it just feels wrong. I strain my hearing to try to make out where they are, they haven’t left, have they? Don’t they want me anymore? Where did they go? I should be able to hear them breathing, but apart from my own laboured breath and the soft music coming from the stereo in the kitchen I cannot hear a thing. I yank at the ropes keeping my in place, but these boys obviously used to be scouts because the knots won’t budge. 

…and yes, I too am hit by the thought that this is absurd. For lack of better words; I am being the subject of a sexual abuse - and here I am wanting them to come back and continue. Not just because if they don’t come back I’m pretty much screwed… and not in the way I long for. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to free myself from these restraints and if bad turns to worse… I might still be here, tied up with sperm all over my back, when my husband returns a few days from now.