by Jaye Peaches
“I have, Rob, and the answer is yes,” she said with a sweet smile as she let her knickers slip out of her fingers.
“Excellent.” He was delighted with their progress. “Let’s poke that fire some more. Yes?”
“Please, Rob,” she murmured.
His foot shifted between hers, knocking them gently apart. A wedge was in place to encourage her to open up to him. If she was ashamed by her wetness, she did nothing to hide it from his probing fingers. The heel of his palm pushed up against her mound while his middle finger explored the state of her interior. The pressure from his hand alone caused her to clench about his exploratory finger.
“Wait,” he instructed as her tightness drew him in deeper.
Her feet stomped in obvious frustration as he reached round to find strands of hair to wrap about his other hand. Tilting her head up, he touched her lips with his as if to kiss her. When she parted her mouth for him, in much the same way her legs opened up wider, and he chuckled at her. Her lower lip quivered as Rob tightened his grip on her hair. Below, he began to rub slowly and methodically with a cupped hand. She leaked copiously onto his fingers, and he pressed his erection against her hip so she could feel his response.
Casey gasped when he yanked her head further back. Ignoring her offered lips, he lowered his own to brush against her exposed neck, inhaling her tantalising scent. Up to that point, her hands had been gripping the edge of the desk behind her in a futile effort to hold her body immobile. Now she brought them to her front and sliding them between the two nestling bodies, she was seeking out his shirt buttons. Rob could feel her fingers frantically moving against his belly. The stiff buttons were not budging for her trembling hands.
Rob’s lips made contact right next to her jugular, and he sucked on her taut skin. The pinch of his mouth on her neck was strong, and she pushed up on to her tiptoes as he drew her closer. Her hands then gave up on the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Instead they rested on his chest, gently clawing at him. He liked the way her long fingernails scraped through the fabric onto his skin.
The precision of his thrusting finger combined with his rubbing palm was too much for her. He had found the familiar spongy spot buried inside her with accuracy and targeted it with a vigorous action. Her legs crumbled first, then her knees buckled, and he needed to hold her up by embracing her quivering body with his own. The shrill muted noises Casey made as she achieved her orgasm thrilled him, and Rob was now seriously uncomfortable. His swollen cock, imprisoned by his attire, was keen to be released.
He withdrew his finger from her drenched pussy and wiped his hand on her inner thigh. The small act of cleansing caused her to smile: a sleepy grin of contentment. Rob knew he had to collect his faculties as they were not finished.
“Let’s continue this someplace more comfortable, shall we?” suggested Rob.
As they left the room, Rob glanced back and noticed her abandoned knickers lying on the floor by the table. Such an untidy creature, he thought. He decided he would deal with that matter on another occasion.
Chapter Three: Tidying Up
“Well, Casey,” began Rob, “I’ve hidden six pairs of your panties around the house. Find them for me.”
“My knickers?” queried Casey.
Now Casey knew Rob liked to play games, but she seriously wondered what went on in his head sometimes. She opened her mouth to say something and thought better of it.
“Alright,” she said and then added as an afterthought, “sir.”
The clock had only just struck eight in the evening, and she had found him in the drawing room in his high backed leather chair, reading the newspaper with his legs crossed and resting on a small footstool. The fireplace was bare as the evening was warm. As requested, she was wearing her shortest skirt and a cropped t-shirt. She felt barely covered in any direction. Currently she was wearing no knickers—another one of his abrupt requests.
“When you have found each pair, you will put them on,” said Rob, without moving his eyes from the column of words he was reading.
“What! All of them,” she said with a gaping mouth. Again, she backtracked quickly, his eye had raised up from the paper. “Sir.”
“Try the bedroom first,” he suggested. “Like a treasure hunt.”
When he had found the time to hide her knickers was beyond her. She believed he never left his study some days. Not entirely true, for she was sent out on errands, so it was feasible for him to set up things in her absence.
The bedroom had as its centrepiece the four-poster bed. No drapes or canopy, but bare framed and almost clinical in style. The rest of the room had nothing but a couple of chairs and a tallboy chest of drawers. The walk-in closet was where they dressed and she did her make-up. Walking around the bed, she peered underneath, and there, neatly laid out was a pale pink thong. She picked it up and gave it a sniff. Laundry fresh. At least he had not raided the laundry basket. She slipped on the thong, grateful for a least some coverage. As she did a tiny piece of paper slipped out of the fabric. Block letters in Rob’s handwriting were clearly legible.
GO CLEAN THE BATHROOM
Taking the advice, she went into the en suite. Nothing around the floor or sink, and thankfully not by the toilet either. Hanging down from the brass showerhead was another pair of knickers. Casey had to climb into the bath to reach, and again a tiny flutter of paper fell into her hands. The white hipster-shaped bikini slipped over the thong.
MAKE ME COFFEE
The kitchen was her next hunting ground. She took the time to make his coffee, grinding the fresh beans and percolating the grounds for the exact time he specified. As she waited, she sought out her underwear. Hanging from a wooden knob off the Welsh Dresser was a black lacy pair of her fancier knickers. It was getting harder to squeeze the elasticated waist over the previous two pairs to make the next pair fit comfortably. Bits of different coloured fabric stuck out, and the thong had well and truly been sucked up between her legs. She pulled the skirt down, almost ashamed to see what she was wearing.
The note this time read:
A COOKIE PLEASE
Sighing, Casey went to the biscuit barrel, which was an antique Fox’s tin with archaic decorations of a bygone era. Slipping her fingers inside, she found the next pair of knickers in amongst the cookies. Brushing the crumbs off, the grey pair reminded her of school knickers worn under skirts for sports lessons.
“Fuck!” she groaned. She hated them. Where he had found them was a mystery; she never bought them. At least they went over the two previous pairs relatively easily. The next note was buried amongst the cookies.
FETCH COALS
Now she knew the fire was not lit, and yet she had to fetch coal. Taking the coffee and cookie on a tray, she set off to deliver the beverage and retrieve the coal scuttle from the fireplace.
Rob did not look up when she entered the room but did express his gratitude as she lay the tray on the small table next to him. Casey desperately wanted him to notice her, to give her a small smile and to recognise the effort she was putting into his task. But he ignored her, and she despondently picked up the coal scuttle and left.
The coal shed was by the back door, and flicking on the light switch, she grimaced. Tiptoeing in her high heels, she found the shovel and began to shift a few loads of coals into the scuttle. Dust flew up, and she coughed. Where were her knickers? Turning to leave and feeling unsure what to do if she failed to find what she sought, she spied them. Hanging from the hook on the back of the door, a red over the top frilly pair, which she had worn once and regretted. Standing in the back of the house, she heaved the pair over the previous ones. They looked ridiculous puffed out by the others, and her bottom had grown in size. Now they were visible below the hem of the skirt.
She felt childish, like a baby with an enormous padded bottom, and she feared he would require her to stick a pacifier in her mouth. The brass coal scuttle was heavy, and she did not want him to see her. She hoped she co
uld sneak back in and return it without him noticing her.
Then she remembered the note. There was none, or perhaps she had missed it. Back in the coal shed, she looked on the floor, and it was there, trampled in the dust and fragments of coal.
Blowing on the paper, she could just make out his handwriting.
BUILD A FIRE
Damn! She had to go back in there and crawl all over the fireplace.
In a huff, she picked up the scuttle and returned to the drawing room. Almost slamming the scuttle down, she kept her eyes on the fireplace and away from Rob, who remarkably had not lifted his eyes from his entrancing newspaper.
There in the fireplace on the marble hearth was a large, ugly pair of white panties. Not one of hers, she was sure of that. She also realised they were not there earlier when she had collected the scuttle, which meant he had moved and put them there while she was in the coal shed.
She did not want to put them on. They were like her granny’s knickers. High at the waist and low around the leg. They would encase all the other five pairs, and she would look ludicrous.
“Casey?” his voice warned, cajoled, and bit into her mind.
As quickly as possible, so not to dwell on the hideous undergarment, she yanked them up and set to work building up the fire.
Kneeling, she was very conscious her bottom was fully exposed to him. Behind her back she heard the sound of the newspaper being folded, then put down to one side. Finally she had his full attention—on her panty-laden bum.
What the hell, thought Casey. He could admire it if he wanted to; she did not care. As she laid the coals in the fireplace using an ornate set of tongs, she wriggled her bottom at him. Have it, go on, she tempted. She even parted her legs, as if to lure him in, while she made a pattern of blackness with her hands.
Now the tongs trembled, and she dropped a few coals before they reached their final destination. He had moved, and she could hear him stand up and creep towards her. The thought of him getting close, even with her stupid underwear, made her nervous to the point that her heart was thumping louder than the solitary mantelpiece clock.
“You don’t have to light it,” he said softly.
“I don’t?” she repeated. “You’re not cold, sir?”
“I’m quite warm, and so are you, I think.”
Casey blushed and put the tongs down. She did not move from her knees, nor did she turn to see what he was doing. The floor made a soft creak as he crouched behind her.
“I wonder how many pairs of knickers you have managed to get wet?” he murmured. “Shall I find out for you?”
She did not answer.
“Um.” His finger touched her crotch. “This pair, I don’t think you’ve had on long enough.” They were dry and baggy about her.
Two hands reached up and carefully lowered the large bloomers over her bottom and down to her thigh to expose the red frilly knickers.
Another check with a fingertip, and she spread her legs again.
“Damp, I can feel some dampness,” commented Rob.
Casey was struggling to stay still as he manoeuvred the red frilly ones down to her bent knees. Next to descend down her thighs were the ghastly school knickers.
“Damper,” he smirked.
Then came the black lacy panties. The fabric was harsher and thicker, but still they would clearly illustrate her wetness.
“Wet, just a small patch,” he noted.
Casey arched her back as he lowered the next pair and revealed the white bikini panties. She hoped Rob would not touch her, but he did all the same, pressing a finger hard against her.
Casey gasped and pushed back.
“These are dripping.”
It took some effort to peel them away from the thong, and he let out a chortle. “My, my. They’ve practically disappeared up you. Sopping wet pink panties.”
“Sorry, sir,” she whispered.
“Did you enjoy your little knickers hunt?”
“No, yes, I mean,” rambled Casey confused. “I look silly and unattractive wearing all these stupid knickers.”
“Your stupid knickers, which you have a tendency to leave lying around, chucked here and there. I may like to see your arse, Casey, but you should tidy up after yourself.”
“I apologise,” she said firmly.
“And for the record, you do not look unattractive. Quite the contrary, you are beautifully sexy and look wonderfully ludicrous. Just how I like you.”
Casey dared to look around her shoulder and was relieved to see Rob smiling at her.
“Would you like me to spank you now?”
Casey went very coy. “Yes, please.”
Rob moved back, not to the armchair but the chaise longue, and patted his lap.
She crawled over to him, leaving behind a trail of knickers as she went. By the time she reached him, five pairs lay like a dot-to-dot line on the hearth place rug. The thong remained wedged in place.
“Take it off,” he said quietly.
She slipped the drenched thong off and over her heels and drew up her skirt. Lying carefully over his lap, she rested her head on the chaise and closed her eyes. Strange, she wondered to herself, wearing six pairs of panties was very humiliating, but being spanked hard by the man she was very much falling in love with was much easier to bear.
“Oh, and Casey, when I’ve finished turning your deliciously-fleshy buttocks crimson red, what will you be doing?”
“Tidying away my knickers, sir,” she said giggling, which was how the spanking began.
She loved to be spanked with a hand. Now and again he would caress the marks he was making, and as he brought the palm of his hand down, he talked about good habits. Then as she squirmed and he wrapped a leg over hers, he told her how sexy she looked, bent over with her silly knickers. Each smack jolted against her raised bottom, gifting her a red handprint until she had blushing hot cheeks: face and bottom.
Throughout Casey giggled and howled, while Rob did the deed with a smug, satisfied smile on his face.
Chapter Four: Managing Expectations
Given the size of the house, the garden appeared relatively small. Casey had pointed out the discrepancy to Rob not long after she started working for him. He explained the original garden was too large for his requirements and he had sold a portion of the land off to property developers. Two houses had been built behind the tall trees and wall at the bottom of the garden.
Even with the shrinkage, the garden needed much care and attention. The flowerbeds were weeded regularly, the lawn trimmed into a carpet, and the shrubs kept at bay with clippers. The reduced garden was maintained and appreciated by Rob from his study window. Casey preferred to sit in the fresh air as much as possible, using the wooden bench underneath the trees. The birds trilled in the branches above her head, and the budding leaves were unfolding with the change of seasons.
She sat there one Saturday, a few weeks after she had left her apartment and moved in with Rob. Her clothes were now hanging in the walk-in closet, and her Mini car was parked outside on the drive day and night. In a reflective mood, Casey took the opportunity to review her situation.
When she had lived apart from Rob, she had occasionally stayed the night on an ad hoc basis. An invitation to extend the day to cater for additional lessons. No longer focusing on her role as Rob’s personal assistant, she had taken on a different mantel—his lover, a development that had transpired over a short space of time.
Those evening lessons had been centred on an entirely different sphere of activity. Stricken by her nervous temperament, Rob had gently tutored Casey. She had discovered there were many facets of erotic pleasures that had passed her by and that her previous, indifferent lovers had not explored or cared to practise. With Rob Casey had become adventurous and had tried to overcome her natural reticence. As in the daytime, there were rules to assist. She had found them humorous at first. To call one’s lover ‘sir’ she had considered a tad ridicu
lous until he had uttered the first ‘good girl’. Being placed in a particular role had seemed to awaken her secret desires, and she had gradually let his peculiarities sink in and become her own.
After moving in with him, she had been grateful for Rob’s efforts to make her feel welcome, though she had been surprised when he had showed her a small bedroom for her personal use.
“You don’t want me to sleep with you?” she had frowned.
Rob had reassured her the room was for her to escape to when she needed space. She had not understood why he had given her some place to hide from him until she was about him every day. Rob devoured books like a voracious lion with its slaughtered prey. Even when he had ceased working in the study, his leisure time had remained fixed around reading. The television held no appeal, nor other inactive hobbies or interests. After dinner, he had simply moved location to the sitting room and picked up a book. Realising he had no need of her company, Casey had gone up to the little upstairs room and switched on the TV she had brought from her old apartment. The solitary nature of her evening leisure time had been something of a shock.
She had been grateful for the master bedroom, where they both slept, because it contained secret delights. Items he kept sequestered away from prying eyes and brought out to be revealed to her widening eyes. She had been curious and slightly unnerved by some things and completely bowled over by others. After her moving in, ad hoc activities had become regular features of their night-time dalliances between the sheets.
Tutoring Casey had become a thrill for both of them. His bedroom techniques had been similar to his daytime style, with one important exception: he had never spanked her for failing when she had tried hard to please him. She had been anxious she would be held accountable for poor skills, but he had shaken his head and confirmed that erotic spankings were for fun and pleasure.
Always Rob had pushed her to achieve more and take herself to new heights of sexual feats, even though their early sexual adventures together had not begun auspiciously. In particular, her first attempt at providing oral gratification had been somewhat disastrous…
