Younger Dominant Sister Spanked Her Slave Elder Brother After GymWhen one hears the word "Mistress," the first thing that usually pops into his mind is a tall, slender brunette, clad in tight black leather and high-heeled boots. While I fit the physical desc
I conduct an aerobics class two days each week at a local gym, where I am known by my girls as Coach Pain because I keep the heat cranked and we never stop moving. After an hour with me, each one of my students, as well as myself, is drenched with fresh perspiration. But while they practically crawl to the showers, I, being in top physical shape, hit the treadmill for at least a half-hour, the pace set at 8.5 mph.
I conduct my class on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Before I get to the main point of my little story, I think a few more preliminary details are in order. First of all, after my shower after Tuesday's workout, I don't bathe again until after Thursday's workout. I put my same pink panties back on after Tuesday's shower. These same pink panties stay on for the next two days. They only come off when I need to use the bathroom or when my slave brother ***** me. I guess that's another area where I differ from many Mistresses. I don't pick up strange men in bars and bring them home to **** in front of my slave brother while he stands in the corner like a sniveling worm. I love my slave brother. Yes, sometimes he must be punished severely for an infraction or two, and yes, often, I only require him to please me with his mouth. Like many slaves, he goes several days at a time without ******. But when I do want a **** inside of me, it is his that I want.
This happens every Wednesday night without fail. We **** for hours to the point of exhaustion. I lose track of my *******. He has at least two, and sometimes three. After we are finished, my panties go back on to absorb the sweat from my bush, my ***** juice, and his *** as it oozes out of my hole. Well, that about does it. Now you have a vivid desc
Thursday afternoon. 2:30 PM. As I walk through the door, he is waiting in his assumed position. That would be naked and kneeling, ready to serve his Mistress. I really don't like smelling this raunchy, but I intentionally let myself go for this weekly forty-eight hours as an on-going lesson in servitude for him.
"Hello, washcloth!" I say plainly, unzipping my sweat top and dropping it to the floor. "Good afternoon, Mistress," he cordially returns.
I kneel beside him, raise my right arm, and shove my armpit up to his face. Immediately, he opens his mouth wide, suctions it over my pit, and begins to suck me clean. I don't have to give him orders. My washcloth has been well-trained. Instead I nonchalantly rehash the details of the workout at the gym, how the girls are progressing, etc...I know how crazy this drives him: talking about such trivial things, while he serves me with his mouth. This continues as I reposition myself for my washcloth to clean my other armpit. He licks and sucks and swallows for several minutes on each side, until I am confident every last drop of sweat has been cleaned from me.
Next, I unsnap my black bra and teasingly move my breasts back and forth, almost touching his lips. He does not lick them. He knows better. He knows what a severe paddling he will receive if he even kisses a nipple. I will wash my breasts myself in the shower in a little while. He is a lowly washcloth whose job is to clean the nastier parts of my body that I don't feel like washing myself.
Next I take off my tennis shoes and socks. I sit down on my favorite chair and he crawls to me. I raise my leg, and place the bottom of my right foot up to his face. He licks every square inch of the bottom of my foot thoroughly, over and over, from my heel to the tips of my toes. He sucks each toe, and licks between each. Again, when I feel he has done a perfect job, I offer him the other foot. Meanwhile I am usually talking on the phone with one of my girlfriends, you know, typical girl chat, as if having a human washcloth lick the bottoms of my feet was no more sensual than getting a manicure.
Finally I take off my sweat pants and those awful panties. I hold them up to my nose and take a little whiff. Whew!!! It's enough to make me gag, but then, I am a Mistress, and nothing is beneath my slave when it comes to serving me. I spread my legs wide, bend over, and begin my cool-down stretches. My slave again crawls to me, this time from behind. He knows not to lick the sweet, firm round cheeks of my ***, another part of my body that I will tend to myself momentarily. My washcloth knows exactly what to do.
Up and down the crack of my *** I feel his warm, wet, eager tongue. "Clean the crack of my *** nice, washcloth," I grunt as I stretch. "Two days of sweat and ***! You make sure it smells nice and clean when you're finished." He spends at least five minutes making sure my crack is clean while I stretch from side to side, grabbing my feet and pulling all the pain out of those sore calves and my lower back.
"Okay, wash my ******* now!" I tell him, as I grab both ankles and stretch to the middle. He sucks so wonderfully, sucking up all that smelly moisture, and swallowing every bit. He doesn't spit out a drop. Finally, I raise my torso and reach my hands back to stretch my cheeks. This is kind of awkward, but my only other choice would be to let my slave spread them with his hands, and I can't let that happen. Now my stinky little hole is wide open. "Inside now, washcloth. Stick that tongue in my *******. Oh, yes. Put it in as deep as it will go."
For the next ten minutes I am in ecstasy, while his tongue cleans the absolute nastiest part of my body. He twirls it around inside, making huge circles. He takes it out, swishes, swallows, then rams it in again. It feels so nice to have him clean my ******* this way. Every few minutes, he presses his nose into my hole and takes a deep whiff. If it still smells even a little nasty, his tongue goes in again.
He stops when he feels he has done a satisfactory job. I have him go to the bathroom and retrieve a cotton swab. I take the cotton swab up and down the crack of my *** and then insert it into my hole. I take it out and sniff. It is usually clean, but if it is not, he endures an excruciating punishment enema, but that is another story.
Now we go to the bedroom. I lay on the bed, while my washcloth goes to brush his teeth and gargle. You know, I don't want any of those *** germs in his mouth while he cleans my *****. I put on some music and float away while he washes my bush. As trained, every square inch. Sucking all that sweat, all that dry, crusty ***** juice and ***** that has matted my hair. Sucking, swallowing and blowing dry for several songs until my ***** bush is soft and sweet once more.
I sit up. I am so pleased with my washcloth, but so aroused at the same time. I just have to humiliate him a little. It keeps him in his place. I look down at that big, beautiful bulging ****, and as much as I want it, I can't help but pretend I don't.
"Do you want to **** me?" I ask in mock astonishment.
"No, Mistress," he pleadingly promises, lowering his eyes.
"Then why is your **** so hard?" I demand.
"I'm sorry, Mistress. I...I..."
"I...I..." I tease back. "Open your mouth!"
He opens his mouth. I lean forward and spit. "Washcloth!" I sneer. "Stick your nose in my hole!" I spread my legs and he sticks his nose in my *****. "Take a deep whiff. Does that smell like a sweet ***** or a raunchy ****?"
"A sweet *****, Mistress."
"Tell the truth, washcloth. Or do you want me to get the paddle and the enema?"
"A raunchy ****, Mistress," he pleads, **** twitching.
"Well, do you think I want my raunchy **** ****** or douched?" I demand.
"Douched, Mistress....Douched!" he answers, falling apart.
"Then go get the warm water," I order, "and let's see if you do a better job as a douche than you did as a washcloth."
He returns with a quart of warm water. He kneels, takes a sip, and places his mouth over my **** hole. He lets the water in slowly, then sucks it out. In and out three times for each gulp of water. Then the swallow. The quart goes down a few ounces with each douching. My internal cleansing increases to more and more intense blasts, which shoot deep into my **** tunnel, cleaning two days of sweating and ******* filth, sucked back out by my sweet little douche, and down the drain, his throat.
When he is finished, he lays beside me. I talk to him dirty for a good twenty minutes, mostly belittling him as a lowly washcloth and douche, pointing out to him that a good washcloth and douche would not have the raging hard-on that he does. All this talk, of course, just makes him twitch worse, but it serves another purpose, to make my ***** wet again, this time with fresh, sweet juice.
I ask him if he thinks he deserves a reward. He answers appropriately, "If Mistress so chooses." I guess he does, but not *******. Not after all the ******* last night. Now, his reward is to taste my sweet *****, since he really did do such a nice job cleaning my raunchy ****. He sucks up all my new juice, and licks my **** over and over, making me *** several times, until I am screaming hysterically.
Whew!!! What an afternoon. Time for a shower. Time for me to clean the rest of my body with nice hot soap and water while my slaveboy waits with a towel and...Wait! What's this?
"Still hard?" I snap. Go and get my panties and more warm water, washing machine!"
So there you are. Sniveling worm? No! Washcloth. Douche. And finally, washing machine. That is my slaveboy.
The hot shower is exhilarating, and I take my time. My panties must smell thoroughly clean when I come out, and they are terribly soiled. Sweat, dry ***** juice and ***, not to mention...well, I will leave that up to your imagination. Nothing that some warm water, and an eager swishing washing machine can't take care of, if he knows what is good for him, and he does.
I'm sure when this shower is finished, he will still have a hard ****. What to do? What to do?
I could simply deny him ****** until some time later this day, or even worse, a few days! Hmmm. I could punish him, even after all his wonderful service. I could insist that that hard-on is because he wants me to give him a *******, and make him jack off and swallow that bitterness himself for thinking about such a thing. Or maybe, just maybe, I will let him **** my brains out again. Of course, that will require more douching. Decisions. Decisions. The wonderful thing is, whatever I decide, that is for me to know and him to find out. "Get those panties nice and clean now!"