Kenzi took almost two hours to fill out her work profile, even though most of the information fields were identical to the ones on her University profile. She wanted it to both be a good experience for her and her clients first and foremost, but she also wanted it to be an avenue through which she could learn and explore. Thus she’d thought long and hard about what she was into, and even moreso about her limits. One in particular. She’d tried out different combinations of wording because she wanted her meaning to be very specific and very clear.
While I understand the necessity of explicit, emphatic, undeniable consent in regards to BDSM, I also prefer to not know what’s coming and I like to have things done to me that are very spur of the moment. So I wouldn’t mind things being done to me, within my limits, that I have not explicitly consented to, with the knowledge that I can stop things at any time if they’re too much or too uncomfortable, but without shutting things down completely or making things awkward is a pause becomes necessary.
Tl;dr: Do stuff to me, and if I don’t like it I’ll tell you and you can do other stuff to me.
She’d tried to make it briefer, even thought about going with one description or the other, but ultimately decided that the more she explained herself the better she’d be for it. She knew walking in and getting taken by the perfect Dom that would control her in just the ways she wanted was a fantasy, but she damn sure wanted to try and get as close as she could.
Though right now her biggest drawback was that she simply didn’t have a great variety of outfits. Crop tops, tank tops, T-shirts, high waisted shorts, yoga pants, your standard Pacific Northwestern white girl attire. She needed something a little showier. Still, she tracked down what she had and uploaded that to her profile, hoping it wouldn’t set her back too much before she could pick up something more befitting a maid at a bondage University.
Not a half hour after she’d finished a notification popped onto her screen while her phone vibrated a few seconds later. She had a client. It was a male student who’d booked her in just over an hour, for an hour of work. He evidently wanted her to do a load of laundry and some room straightening no doubt scantily clad, but when she checked for requested attire, she found nothing.
She fretted over what exactly she should wear for the next hour, if she should go mundane and practical or try to dress herself up a bit. She remembered what Trixie had told her and opted to go for a mixture of both, combining her shortest high waisted shorts with a comfortable crop top and no bra, things that were both comfortable and showed a sliver of high stomach and twin curvatures of ass.
Luckily he was a short walk away through the woods to The Pope’s Reliquaries, each unit comprised two one-room suites joined by a central bathroom that were shared by four people. She wondered if his roommates would be present…did the university charge double or triple for that? Maybe she’d at least be able to make more in tips.
When she reached his door on the second floor, she realized she had no idea how to begin the process. She knocked heavily three times, “room service?” she tried.
“Come in,” a muffled voice sounded through the door. As she turned the handle and steeled herself for any number of scenes to walk in on, she realized she hadn’t taken the time to look at the man’s name, merely the time and room number.
What she did not expect was to find him sitting in his computer chair, nude from the waist down with porn playing on the screen and his six or seven inch cock fully hard. She grinned, so that was how things were going to go. She couldn’t help but fix her eyes to it. It was a nice cock, long and straight and shaved, sticking out over nice balls, protruding between nice legs. He was definitely attractive, far too attractive to have to pay for stripper room service if he wanted a scantily clad girl cleaning his room.
“Um, what’s your name again? Sorry, I forgot to look,” she said, realizing that neither of them had spoken after she’d entered. He sized her up, his eyes taking a long time to survey her body, and for several moments she felt like she was the one nearly nude.
“I want to see you naked,” he informed her.
“Don’t talk, just strip.” Her face grew hot and flush, his voice was so chastising, so disapproving. She should have shown up naked, should have pulled the knee length coat from her closet and gone commando beneath it. She unbuttoned the shorts and pulled off the crop top, feeling very meek in front of him with her uncovered form, her arms dangling awkwardly at her sides, clearly having earned his disapproval already and having no idea how to make it up to him.
“Get on your knees,” he said. She folded her arms behind her and complied quickly. “Don’t ever talk to me unless you’re naked and on your knees,” he said after studying her for another long several seconds.
“Yes…” she looked to him for direction.
“So you forgot to read my name? I hope you pay more attention to detail when you’re doing other things.” She stared directly across the room at his cock, now at eye level, but several feet away. She definitely had “other things” on her mind now.
He stared back at her, more properly unattired, her pesky arms out of the way, as if rolling something around in his head. Then he stood and walked over to her, her eyes glue to his cock the entire way until it was less than a foot from her lips. She could see a droplet of precum glistening on the tip. He brought the head even closer, her eyes flitted to his, waiting for instruction, but none came. They rolled back in her head as he rubbed the precum down the side of her cheek.
“Start my laundry,” he said, turning around and sitting back down, his attention no longer on her.
She scrambled to begin picking up clothes strewn about the floor, the cum, already mostly dry, seeming to sting her cheek like a badge of dishonor. She looked around for a hamper, finding it tipped over by the foot of the bed and began throwing clothes into it.
“Wait,” he called to her as she approached the door, trying to psyche herself up to walking around the building nude. She turned, sure he was either going to give her some meager coverings or press her up against the door and fuck her, but he did neither, closing a set of cuffs around her ankles and another around her wrists.
He then procured a sharpie and began writing on her stomach. “Touch my tits.” Before she could protest, he opened the door and pushed her out.
She went stumbling to the ground as her feet tried to keep up with her momentum and were held back by the one foot chain between them. Her knees and palms stung as she hit the thin carpet, the laundry following her to the floor thanks to the strap over her shoulder and piling onto her head. Her face growing red once more, she cleaned it up quickly and started to the basement facilities.
She found her mind drifting back to her client’s cock. It had only been a day since she’d been fucked, but she was horny again, and she wanted to prove herself to him. And it was a nice cock. It would fill her up well. If he deigned to put it in her. She could see herself sucking it to earn his favor, letting him use her mouth like the whore she was and adding to the precum on her face before sending her on her way. She didn’t know if he was confident enough and had a firm enough understanding of what she was looking for to not show her any respect, but it sure seemed that way.
The trek to the laundry room was slow owing to her bondage and it seemed like the Reliquaries had more students than most of the dorm buildings during the summer. Several passed her in the hall, men and women, most giving her nude body a glance and a leer, but no one wanted to take her up on the offer written on her stomach. None even tried to strike up a conversation with the restrained girl who was obviously down to be played with. Probably because it was assumed that she belonged to someone else, she surmised. Still, people could talk to her at least.
She opened her body up to the next person she saw, spreading her arms as far as the restraints would allow. “Do you like what you see?” Probably not the best candidate, she thought inwardly, the chubby boy had been averting his eyes like she’d expect someone outside the university to do. “Come on, you can look,” she pressed, hoping it wouldn’t make him any more uncomfortable.
The statement seemed to brighten him and he gradually allowed his eyes to wander over her body. He seemed especially fixated on her pussy where most guys’ eyes usually found their way to her stomach or her tits.
“What’s your name? I’m Kenzi,” she offered.
“K-Kevin,” he stuttered.
“Are you a sub?”
“No, switch,” he said, still struggling through his words.
“You’re a switch?” she asked, not believing him one bit.
“Trying to be,” he said. The more they talked, the stronger and louder and more sure his words grew. “I d-don’t have much experience and I’m not very good at it.”
“Well I just got here,” she said. “So I’m learning too. To be a sub that is,” she clarified.
She shrugged and drew attention back to her nudity. “Seems to be going okay.” The black text on her stomach caught her eye once more. “So if you’re partially dominant…” she jutted her chest in his direction.”
“Can I?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be written on me if you couldn’t.” He reached out a hand and gingerly cupped her breast. Kenzi half expected him to cum in his pants as soon as she felt the warmth of flesh on flesh, but he merely smiled and pulled his hand away.
“Come on, how do you really want to touch them? Or…” she remembered where his glance had been earlier. “Do you want to touch something else?” He nodded. “Do it,” she urged. “Surprise me.”
He drew closer and reached down, his hand fondling her pussy, his middle finger sliding between her lips across her clit before he plunged it inside of her. He immediately found her g-spot and began rubbing it, giving her knees a wobble she couldn’t attribute to the heavy laundry basket.
“Ungh, fuck,” she grabbed on to his soft hulking shoulder for support while he fucked her with a single fat finger. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. She looked into his eyes and this time the met her, firm and unyielding, and for the first time she saw the dynamic of bitch and Master.
He slid a second finger inside her, stretching her just the right amount and continuing to fuck her while his thumb found her clit. Each thrust brought dual sensations, inside and out. She started to slump against him, but he caught her with his free hand, pinning her against the wall and holding her up with ease.
“Oh my god, I’m going to cum,” she blurted, as shocked as she was turned on. No one’s fingers but hers had been able to get her off.
But Kevin’s did and paradoxically she tried to hold in her moans even though she was in the middle of a public hallway and three or four people had gathered around to watch. “Ohh, I’m cumming,” she whined, an exclamation of surrender as much as one of pleasure. Kevin’s hands had conquered her and she came into them, her pussy squeezing his fingers, her juices running down her leg.
When she finished, he slid them out of her and looked around sheepishly. The timid man had returned and before she could thank him for his efforts, he ducked into the nearby bathroom to wash his hands.
It was like Kevin’s touch had opened a door as the crowd that had gathered crowded around her, man and woman alike eying the words on her chest and the tits above them hungrily. Most still asked permission, but she soon found herself besieged by offer upon offer, and hands groping her as they pleased.
“Ungh, I have, ooh, to do laundry,” she protested, trying to walk while hands squeezed her breasts and fingers pinched her nipples and she received a regular clap on the ass. One by one her new friends dropped away either to masturbate or to take their arousal out on their others and she found herself alone once more, still wet with the phantoms of many pairs of hands taking license of her body.
The shackles on her ankles and wrists also served as a reminder that her body was not her own as she slowly approached the washroom. She thought she was stuck with the launder hamper, it’s strap running over her shoulder and through her cuffed arms, until she discovered she could unclip it. Free of both its weight and its meager amount of coverage she felt suddenly vulnerable. Now there was only her nude body and the chains.
After she’d dumped the load in the washer and added the detergent from the cleaning supplies cabinet she had access to, she sat on the bench in the laundry room to take stock of her predicament. The handcuffs were separated by two chain links which meant that she had to do everything two handed. The ankle cuffs gave her a bit more room with a foot between them, but they still kept her to short measured paces. The cuff portions, while not particularly tight, had nevertheless dug into her wrists and ankles leaving red lines marking her.
In spite of the discomfort, a grin passed over her face. This was exactly what she had wanted, an unceremonious dumping into the culture and community so that she could learn how to swim. Her mind drifted back to her client’s bare hard cock. She had an hour to kill before she needed to change loads…what else did he have in store?
She shuffled her way back up to the second floor, pausing to let several more passersby touch her as they pleased. By the time she stood in front of his room again her hair was a mess, her mascara had run and even the words, written in sharpie, were faded and smeared by the number of hands that had passed over them.
His door was slightly ajar so she let herself in. “Took you long enough,” he said, still in front of his computer. Still hard.
“What do you want me to cl-“
“What the fuck did I tell you before?”
Her face turned red and her blood ran cold as she dropped to her knees and didn’t dare meet his face. How was she supposed to interact as a sub if she couldn’t even remember basic rules?
“All the way down. On your stomach,” he commanded. She complied, locking her arms behind her back and awaiting the spanking that was sure to follow.
Instead she felt him place a foot at the small of her back and press down until it was just a little painful. It felt good, deserved. He took one ankle and began wrapping rope around it, then the other, then pulled them upward until her heels kicked the bottom curvature of her ass. He lifted her lower half off the ground, pressing her face harder into the carpet and deepening her humiliation while he wrapped the ropes around her thighs.
“There,” he said when finished. “You can get up now.” She scrambled to her knees realizing that was as high as she was going to get tied ankle to thigh. “Now speaking when you aren’t supposed to won’t be a problem.”
“Thank you Sir,” she said, his rough touch still lingering. How close had his cock come to her when he’d bent over to tie her?
“Mostly I want the shelves and surfaces dusted,” he said. She looked around, there wasn’t much of a mess now that the clothes had been cleaned up, but she could see a layer of translucent gray on all the things that didn’t see regular use. Including the underside and rails of his desk. She crawled quickly from the room to the foyer’s janitorial closet to obtain the appropriate supplies, a rag and some wipes, and returned quickly to the room.
She began with the things furthest away from him, the closets, what she could reach anyway, the bed frames, the shelves, while he continued to stroke himself with her in the room, paying her no attention. She kept glancing over at him to see if he was maybe taking a peek at her nude body from time to time, but he stayed focused on his monitor. She frowned and went back to work, wondering what she could do to curry his favor or to at least get him to pay attention to her, short of sidling over and offering to pleasure him, which she was sure he’d rebuke her for.
“Accidentally” making noise or knocking things over seemed like such a bratty little girl thing to do so she took care to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, hoping her silence would speak louder than any noise.
She worked her way closer and closer to him, still not receiving any of his attention. She perched on her knees while she began wiping down his desk, mere feet from him, with her as invisible as she’d been the entire time. Then there was nowhere left but beneath his desk.
He slid back to accommodate her, the first thing he’d done to acknowledge her presence in several minutes. She could feel his eyes on her backside as she cleaned the bar that connected the two back legs. When finished she looked up at him from her knees. He’d been watching her and playing with himself, and after an hour’s worth of stroking she figured he had to be wanting to cum. She gave him her best fuck-me eyes, hoping he’d slide forward, trapping her beneath the desk with a well sucked cock as the only passage to freedom.
“Probably time to move everything to the drier,” he said, much to her disappointment. “Do that and come back for your tip and you can go.” He used a pair of safety shears to quickly make work of her bonds before setting her off.
She bounded out the door and down the hall to the laundry room, the prospect of a tip raising her spirits. Would it be money or would she finally get a piece of that cock that had been staring her in the face for the past hour.
She rushed through the transfer of clothes quickly, almost forgetting to set and start the dryer before heading back up to the room. This time she remembered her protocol, dropping to her knees upon entering and crawling to the center of the room. Legs spread, breasts jutting out, hands behind her head, she knew she was as inviting a prospect as there ever was.
“Anything else Sir?” she asked.
He rose and grabbed his wallet, holding his cock in one hand. She braced for it. Finally.
“Open,” he commanded. She complied, sticking out her tongue and awaiting cock. But instead he pulled five bills from his wallet, all twenties, and showed them to her. Shuffling and stacking them he shoved them sideways into her mouth like a horse’s bit. “If you want them, you better hold onto them.” She bit down just as he let go, catching all five before looking up at him with pleasing eyes.
He held his cock in front of her face and after three short jerks let loose a long steady stream of the thickest whitest cum she’d ever seen directly into her face. The next rope was its equal in both force and volume and she could feel the liquid splashing off her cheeks and landing on her tits and stomach and legs in addition to soaking her tip.
When finished, he held his cock over her head and gave a final shake, allowing the last few droplets to fall into her hair. He bent down to look her in the face, laughing as she averted her eyes and tried to hide her shame and disappointment. “If you want more, you’ll come back. Understand?” She nodded, a long strand of liquid falling from the bills to the floor.
“Good,” he said. “Now get out”