You’re three drinks in.
Faces are losing their recognition but it’s the same crowd as usual. No one will notice you missing so you grab a bottle from the kitchen on the way to the basement.
It’s a going away party for your kid to get their masters. Same as when they were accepted to college, graduated high school, made varsity, and the like. It doesn’t feel any different than before. Of course, you’re not going to be an asshole and not congratulate for succeeding in life but fuck, who cares anymore?
You abandon your heels once you reach the ground floor. It’s cool and quiet as opposed to the claustrophobic, hot noise upstairs. No more pretending.
The bottle’s almost empty.
You don’t need to be the perfect mom, wife or woman down here. You can let out your zipper and peel off your shapewear, rub the back of your hand through your makeup-covered face and sob freely. No one there to whisk you into another room with a fake excuse, no haunting rumors trailing behind your back.
Down here, you can drop a glass and ring your maid to clean it up… so you do.
The three-hundred dollar bottle clatters to the floor effortlessly. Yeah, it’s your fault but there’s no consequence. She’ll come in and clean it. No explanation needed, not that she’d understand it. Or maybe she would? You can’t remember if the foreign island she’s from was colonized by the British or French. Does she have an accent?
Somehow you hold your balance as the alcohol swarms in your veins. The realization that you don’t know anything about the woman that cleans up your shit is troubling. Not that it really matters, she does what she’s told so that’s all you need to care about. You pay attention sometimes though. To the swell of her ass filling out her uniform pants and how you made a point to order a size smaller after her first week. She didn’t complain then either.
Fuck, you’re feeling hot now.
The door opens before you can do anything about it. She takes a pause before descending the final step. In one hand, pail and rag. In the other, dustpan and broom in the other.
Good. No horrified expression on her face at her boss being hot mess. Just gets right to sweeping.
You can’t think of much to say as she works. You just watch her dark skin glowing in the low light. She smells exotic too. The lotion she wears is fragrant but not in a cheap, mass-produced, artificially-crafted way. No, it’s an authentic, pleasantly warm scent. You lick your lips, nearly tasting peach on your tongue but it’s quickly replaced by the stark contrast of unnecessarily expensive champagne and too much saliva.
She’s on her knees with the rag now. Looking every bit of the role she was hired to fill. And you, her master, bearing watch over her.
The heat between your legs is unbearable.
As she’s distracted with ringing out the rag, you take the opportunity to slip your panties over your hips and down your legs. You step out of them and closer to her so by the time she turns back, her head is situated between your spread thighs and a few inches off it’s mark.
You clear your throat and she looks up. Her gaze meeting your exposed pussy.
You almost break. Almost mutter a drunken apology as your cheeks flame with embarrassment and rushing upstairs before you have to face the consequences.
But you remember that there aren’t any. She’s a stupid whore, probably not even legal, that you pay to clean your house. Who would she tell? No one would even understand her, let alone believe that some white woman would want to touch her. She’s probably used to this anyway. It’s probably how she made her money to get here. She knows her body is irresistible otherwise she wouldn’t take such good care of herself.
That thought guides your hands to grip her face. Pulling her into your wet snatch, you let out a guttural groan as her perfectly plump lips touch yours. They’re dribbling with wetness already. You dribbled into the sticky puddle on the floor so she’s already touched you. She initiated it. She could’ve walked away in discuss after seeing how wet you were but she didn’t. No, she stayed because she wanted you. She wants your pussy even more than you wanted her mouth.
“Dammit, you fucking slut,” you lash out as your hold her head still so you can fuck her face.
It could be her tongue that’s making everything so wet. It must be since she keeps gasping. She can’t get enough of your pussy that she has to make such a mess of it. She’s moving so much out of excitement but you need to hold her down on your clit. How else are you supposed to cum?
“Feels so good. Yeah, you like that?”
You drop into a deep squat and pull her in even tighter so you can feel her sharp nose against the entrance to your pussy. Your husband doesn’t fuck you anymore, his dick has gone bad, so it’s especially sensitive when it gets any action. You can feel it swallow you up like a wave. The spark crackle through you and takes with all the strength of your legs.
“C’mon, let’s sit. Get up,” you bark, not ready for this to be over.
No will come looking for her. She’s just the help and there’s twenty other people who can do her job upstairs. The house manager will just assume she’s being lazy and dock her pay if she doesn’t respond to being paged.
But you’re the mother. You organized the event, even though it’s not a major celebration, someone will want to congratulate you on throwing another lovely party. You’ll have to rejoin the masses again before the evening comes to a close.
You collapse back into the leather sofa against the wall. The vice-grip in her hair pulls her along, even if she ends up being dragged on her knees, she stays glued to your pussy where she belongs.
“Yes, you like eating pussy? I should’ve known. You should’ve offered before, I would’ve been happy to let you go down on me.”
You locked your ankles behind her back and trap her in. With this new position, you can use your leverage to thrust up against her mouth and fuck does it feel good. You’re getting closer but you need more and so does she. Her hands are flailing like they need something else to do.
“Give it,” you order as you grab her hand. “Wearing gloves to keep your hands clean before touching me? This was all part of your plan wasn’t it? You’re so cunning, I can’t believe you’ve waited this long to make a move.”
You feel yourself beaming at her thoughtfulness and suck three of her fingers into your mouth. She’d been wearing gloves every time she cleaned around you and you never thought there was a deeper meaning. But here she is, making love to you and you were ignoring all of her previous advances. You feel guilty but now it’s going to change. You can reward her and make up for all of those previous times by giving her what she wants.
With your help, you guide her pointer finger into you and she cries out. She must be so relieved! All the pining is over with and she can feel how wet you are for her.
After a few minutes, you add another finger since she doesn’t seem to want to. She could be afraid to hurt you, which is why she’s going so slow. But you can take it, so you add another one and let out a whine. It feels so good to be full. Her delicate fingers feel so right inside of you and you can guess she feels the same if her whimpers are anything to go by.
“Almost there,” you grunt out as you wrap your hand more firmly against her wrist. Your gripping her fingers so tightly, fluttering your muscles against them better than you ever did on your husband’s cock.
“You like being so deep inside me? I like it.”
You’re in absolute ecstasy that you can’t even see anymore. Your eyes shut tight as you fuck her fingers into your tight snatch. You can feel her pulling back and that sensation sends you over the edge.
“I’m coming!”
With a shout, you squirt all over her, your wrist and the couch.
You don’t feel her wrench her hand out of your grasp and curl up on the floor. No, you’re too busy lifting your knees up and rubbing over your pussy, riding out the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm.
“This goes without saying but..,” you chuckle as you look down at her exhausted form quivering on the ground. You gave her what she wanted and she can hardly control herself anymore. You’re such a nice boss.
“Clean this mess up.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o4wb7n/at_your_service_fflesbiannonconfemdompowerracism