Extra duties for her cleaner (F/F)

[Janbound]

A fantasy of mine for a well dressed woman, a few years older than me in power exchange with a much younger woman. This is fantasy, everything is consensual, and I do know the risks of leaving someone tied up alone.

Enjoy.


Andrea, a 52-year-old blonde with a penchant for order, sat at her desk, her eyes scanning the neatly organized spreadsheet on her laptop screen. Her office, a bastion of professionalism, was a stark contrast to the chaos of the outside world. She had just finished her last meeting of the day and was about to shut down her computer when a text notification buzzed on her phone. It was from her cleaner, Emma, a bright young woman with a flair for precision and a surprising sense of humor. The text simply read, "See you at 7 PM sharp."

A thrill of anticipation shot through her as she recalled their earlier agreement. She had asked for something... unconventional. The thought of it made her heart race, and she felt a flush spread across her cheeks. Standing up, she smoothed her white silk blouse and adjusted her too short leather skirt, smoothing it against her sheer black tights. Even warking frim home Andrea insisted on dressing smartly. The clock read 6:50 PM, giving her just enough time to prepare. She walked into her living room, the plush carpet feeling cool under her nylon covered feet.

Andrea went to the cupboard and pulled out the white nylon rope and a roll of duct tape she had bought earlier. Her hands trembled slightly as she tested the rope's strength, feeling the soft yet firm fibers between her fingers. She had always been curious about this side of herself, but it had taken a long time to find someone she could trust enough to indulge in it. Unwinding the rope, she let her hair down, the blonde locks cascading over her shoulders. It was a simple act, but it felt like shedding a layer of her usual persona, revealing the more adventurous woman beneath.

Walking to the bathroom, she took a moment to compose herself. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the sight of her flustered expression and the hint of excitement in her eyes. Leaning down, she took a quick drink of water from the faucet, feeling the cool liquid wash over her parched mouth. Her heart was racing now, and she knew she had to slow down. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. The anticipation was intoxicating, a thrilling cocktail of fear and desire that made her feel alive.

The doorbell rang at precisely 7 PM, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her body. She quickly padded over to the door, her bare feet silent on the marble floor. Through the peephole, she could see Emma's outline, dressed in a black t-shirt and a short denim skirt that showed off her shapely legs, which were adorned with black fishnet stockings. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the glint of heels on her feet. She had never seen Emma dressed like this before, and it only served to heighten the excitement.

Andrea took a moment to ensure her blouse was tucked in properly and her skirt wasn't riding up before opening the door. "Hi, Emma," she said, her voice a bit shakier than she had intended. "You're right on time."

Emma's smile was knowing as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the hallway with an appreciative gaze. "I like to keep my promises, Mrs. Hartwell," she said, her tone teasing. She was holding a small black duffel bag that looked suspiciously bulging.

Andrea led her into the living room, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. The room was dimly lit, with candles flickering on the mantelpiece, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of vanilla filled the air, a nod to the sensory experience she had hoped for. She gestured to the floor in the center of the room, where she had laid out the rope and tape.

Emma set down her bag and approached with an air of confidence that was new to her. She took the rope from the table and held it up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready for this?" she asked, and when Andrea nodded, she stepped closer. The younger woman's breath was warm against her ear as she whispered, "Remember, you can safe word at any time."

Emma's nimble fingers began to work, looping the rope around Andrea's wrists with surprising gentleness, yet the tension was unmistakable. With each pass, the rope grew tighter, but not painfully so. It was a delicate dance, a give and take of control, and Andrea found herself leaning into it, her pulse racing as she felt the first threads of restraint. When Emma was done, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Perfect," she murmured, and the sound of her voice was like a caress.

"Now, Mrs. Hartwell," she said, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight, "it's time for you to remove your tights."

Andrea swallowed hard, feeling a mix of trepidation and excitement. She struggled with her hands bound behind her back. After a few tries her hands caught thee nylon on her left thigh. She pulled and tugged at the material, inching it down as sge worked up a sweat. Emma watched with a smirk, enjoying the sight of her boss's legs being revealed. "Hurry up," she encouraged, her voice a gentle purr that sent shivers down Andrea's spine.

Finally, the tights gave way, sliding down over her bottom. Andrea was able to use her feet to pull her tights off the opposite leg and eventuall got the sheer black material to pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them awkwardly, her bare feet and legs feeling exposed and vulnerable. The cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps across her thighs. "Good girl," Emma cooed, stepping closer to admire her work. "Now, let's make sure you can't get into any trouble, shall we?" She bent down and grabbed the rope again, her eyes never leaving the older woman's face as she began to loop it around her ankles.

With the rope in place, Emma tied a secure knot, ensuring that Andrea was effectively bound hand and foot. But she didnot stop there. Helping Andrea to lie down she next bound her elbows together behind her followed by her knees. The older woman let out a soft gasp as the last bit of slack was taken up, her legs forced together and her arms bound tightly behind her back, straining her shoulders and forcing her large chest further out. She felt utterly powerless, and the thrill of it was intoxicating.

“Now i dont want you complaining.” Emma took the discarded tights off the floor and slowly fed them into Andrea’s mouth, packing her cheecks. Finally she tore off several pieces of tape and pressed them over her mouth. "Comfortable?" Emma asked with a wink.

Andrea nodded, unable to speak around the thick wad of fabric that was her gag. Her breath came in shallow pants through her nose, the adrenaline making her dizzy. She watched as Emma reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a bottle of baby oil, a pair of tweezers and a spiked wheel on a handle. The room grew quiet except for the crackle of the candles and the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. The young brunette knelt beside her, her legs bent in a way that made her thighs look like they could crush diamonds.

Emma began to dribble the baby oil onto the soles of her boss's feet, the clear liquid pooling in the divots and lines of skin. "I've been looking forward to this all week," she murmured, her eyes locked onto Andrea's. The older woman squirmed slightly, the sensation of the oil on her sensitive skin sending waves of pleasure through her body. It was a strange feeling, being so vulnerable and yet so in control of her own fate.

Emma took one last length of rope. Bending Andrea’s knees her tied her hands to her feet and hogtied her. Andrea felt the final knot tighten around her ankles, the rope cutting into her skin slightly, and she was now completely at the mercy of her young, brunette cleaner. Her eyes widened as she tested her bonds, the ropes holding firm. The feeling of being so utterly at someone else’s mercy was a new high for her. She had never felt so vulnerable, yet so alive.

Emma’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she slipped off her shoes and sat back on her heels,taking in the sight of her bound boss. She had always found Mrs. Hartwell to be a bit of an enigma, but now she knew the woman’s secret, and it was a thrilling power to hold. With the tickling tools laid out before her, she picked up her favorite: a pair of tweezers. She leaned in, her breath hot against Andrea’s skin as she began to tease the arches of her feet with the cold metal. The blonde’s body tensed, but she remained silent, not wanting to interrupt the moment.

Andrea’s toes curled and uncurled as the sensation grew more intense. The tickling started slow and gentle, a mere flutter against her skin. But Emma had a knack for finding those sensitive spots, and soon the sensation grew stronger, more insistent. She giggled into her gag, her eyes squeezed shut, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure and pain that danced up her legs. Her feet were on fire, and she could feel her body responding in ways she never had before.

Emma's nails traced patterns up and down the soles of Andrea’s feet, alternating between feather-light and firm. The young woman's touch was masterful, her eyes never leaving the older woman’s face as she studied her reactions. Every giggle, every twitch, was a testament to her power in this moment. She took her time, savoring the sight of Mrs. Hartwell’s body writhing in response to her ministrations. It was a heady feeling, knowing she had the power to elicit such a reaction from someone who was normally so composed.

The tickling grew more intense, and Emma watched with rapt attention as goosebumps formed on the soft, pale flesh of the older woman's legs. The oil made her skin glisten, and she couldn’t resist the urge to notch the torment up. run her thumbs along the arches of her feet, feeling the tautness of the muscles beneath. Andrea felt Emma’s nails grow sharper, and she dug them into the pads of her feet. The blonde's eyes shot open, and she let out a muffled squeal, her body arching off the floor. The sensation was exquisite, a blend of pain and pleasure that made her toes curl tightly. The ropes held her firmly in place, and as she strained they cut into her limbs, leaving deep marks on her soft skin. The tension in her muscles was a constant reminder of her vulnerability yet She had never felt so alive, her body a canvas for the younger woman's artful touch.

Emma's eyes twinkled with mischief as she set aside the tweezers and picked up the spiked wheel. She hovered it over the arch of Andrea's left foot, the anticipation of the touch almost unbearable. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a low whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet room. The spiked wheel made contact, and the sensation was unlike anything Andrea had ever experienced. It rolled over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and she bucked against her restraints, her breath hitching in her throat. The gag muffled her cries, turning them into whimpers that only served to excite Emma further.

Emma continued to torture her boss's feet with the spiked wheel, moving it in slow, deliberate circles, alternating between light and firm pressure. Each pass was a new wave of sensation, each thorn a sharp reminder of her submission. The baby oil made the experience all the more intense, the metal gliding over her skin with ease, leaving her feeling both helpless and exhilarated.

With a deft movement, Emma reached into her bag once again, pulling out a black satin blindfold. She leaned over, her hair brushing against Andrea's face, and whispered, "Ready for the next part?" The anticipation was palpable as she placed the blindfold over the older woman's eyes, fastening it tightly at the back of her head. The room went dark, heightening her other senses, making her acutely aware of every sound, smell, and touch.

The sudden loss of sight sent a shiver down Andrea's spine. She could hear Emma's soft, even breaths and the faint sound of the candles flickering, but it was the sound of something else that made her heart race—the sound of Emma's nails being tapped against the arm of the sofa. What was she planning next? The anticipation was delicious, a thrilling blend of fear and excitement that had her body taut as a bowstring.

Then she felt it—a wet, warm sensation on the arch of her right foot. Emma's tongue, slick and soft, traced a line up the length of her sole, pausing at the ball of her foot, before continuing its journey up to her ankle. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through her body that made her want to scream, to laugh, to cry out—but all she could manage was a muffled moan around the gag.

The young brunette's tongue danced over her skin, tasting the sweet saltiness of her sweat, mingled with the faint metallic tang of the oil. The roughness of her calloused feet was a stark contrast to the softness of her mouth, a reminder of the years that separated them, of the power dynamics that had shifted so dramatically in this room. Each flick, each gentle suckle, brought a new wave of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

Andrea's body thrashed against the ropes, her legs kicking and her bound arms straining. She was a wild animal caught in a trap, desperate to escape the exquisite torment. Yet, she didn't want it to end. The feeling of Emma's mouth on her feet was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was a strange mix of tenderness and dominance, a dance of pleasure and pain that she never knew she craved.

Emma's tongue snaked between her toes, tracing the length of each one before retreating to the base. The sensation was maddening, making Andrea squirm and whimper into her gag. Her eyes, wide and unseeing beneath the blindfold, searched the darkness for any clue of what was to come next. She could feel Emma's hot breath on her skin, the anticipation of the next touch like a physical presence in the room.

As Emma's mouth moved to her other foot, her hands began to explore, gliding up the soft, silky skin of her legs. She tickled her calves, backs of her knees, between her thighs but stopped just short of the edgevof Andrea’s lacy black knickers. The contrast between the rough ropes and Emma's smooth, soft hands was a symphony of sensations, each one more intense than the last.

Andrea's body was a live wire, her breathing ragged and her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the younger woman's fingers dance closer and closer to the hem of her skirt, her palms warm and firm against her legs. The anticipation was unbearable, and she bucked against her bonds, trying to force the contact she so desperately craved. But Emma was in control, her movements deliberate and measured, teasing and retreating like the tide.

Emma took her time, savoring the moment. Her nails slid under the waistband of the black lace knickers, the fabric stretching taut against her skin. With a deft movement, she pushed them down exposing the plump mounds of her boss's bottom. The scent of desire filled the room, a heady perfume that made her head spin.

Andrea felt the cool air hit her exposed skin, and she couldn’t help but tense up. But Emma's touch was firm yet gentle as she gripped the soft flesh of her buttocks, her nails digging in just enough to sting, but not enough to break the skin. The young woman's teeth sunk into her boss’s heel, and she bit down with enough pressure to make the blonde gasp into her gag. The pain was surprisingly erotic, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses that followed along her arch.

The older woman’s body responded in ways she had never experienced before. Her bound hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms, as she struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity amidst the onslaught of sensations. The ropes bit into her wrists and ankles, the pain a strange companion to the pleasure that was coursing through her veins. Her legs thrashed, trying to close, to protect herself from the onslaught of the young brunette's mouth, but the ropes held firm, keeping her open and exposed.

"Emma," she whined through her gag, her eyes pleading for mercy. But there was none to be found. Her voice was muffled, her eyes hidden. The younger woman only chuckled, the vibration of her laughter sending shivers through her body.

"Emma," she managed to repeat, her voice strained with a mix of fear and anticipation, although the soung was distorted to “Nngggaaa”

"I didn't quite catch that, Mrs. Hartwell," Emma said, her smile wicked. “But tell me. Have you ever had your feet waxed?”

Andrea's eyes went wide with shock at the question. The thought had never crossed her mind, but the mere mention of it sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. She managed to shake her head as much as the ropes would allow and moan again.

Emma took one of the candles from the mantelpiece, holding it up and watching the pattern of the flickering light. She watched the wax slowly melt and pool at the base, the anticipation building. With a wicked smile, she tipped the candle and allowed the first drop to fall onto the center of the older woman's left sole.

Andrea's body jerked at the sudden sensation of heat, the wax hitting her skin with a sizzle. She let out a muffled yelp, her eyes widening in shock. The pain was sharp and intense, but it was quickly followed by a warm, soothing sensation as the wax cooled and hardened. The smell of vanilla filled the room, mixing with the scent of her burning desire.

Emma's eyes gleamed as she held the candle above her bound boss's right foot, the wax dripping down like molten lava. Each drop was a new point of agony and ecstasy, a dance of heat and pain that had Andrea's body writhing on the floor. She could feel the warmth spreading across her skin, a brand that marked her as Emma's willing plaything.

The young woman's smile was a mix of sadism and glee as she moved the candle to the arch of her left foot. The wax fell like rain, and each drop felt like a hot kiss, sending shivers up her legs that made her toes curl in response. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as she waited for the next splatter, the sound of the wax hitting the skin like the ticking of a clock counting down to an unknown fate.

“I wonder where else I could drip wax? Your chubby bottom, up your spine, maybe ill rip your bra off and warm up your nipples.”

The thought of it sent a wave of terror and excitement through Andrea, her body quivering in response. She felt her pussy grow wetter and she knew it was visible through her panties. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet so incredibly turned on.

Emma noticed the change in her and grinned wickedly. She leaned in close, her breath hot on the older woman’s face. "Do you like that, Mrs. Hartwell?" she whispered. "Do you like the way it feels when I'm in control?"

Andrea could only nod frantically, her unseen eyes pleading for more. The thrill of the pain, the feeling of being utterly at the mercy of this young, powerful woman was something she had never experienced before. It was like a drug, and she was already addicted.

Emma took a step back and slid the hem of Andrea's skirt up, revealing the curve of her plump hips. With a wicked smile, she gripped the elastic of her boss's knickers and began to pull them down. The lace scraped against her skin, the sensation adding to the symphony of feelings already playing out across her body.

As the fabric slid over her thighs, the coolness of the floor met her bare skin, making her shiver. The ropes around her ankles and knees kept her in place, her legs bent and vulnerable. The anticipation of what was to come was a living entity within her, pulsing in time with her racing heart.

Emma took a step back, holding the candle high above the pale skin. She studied her bound boss, her eyes tracing the lines of her body, lingering on the curve of her bottom. "Ready for the next round?" she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Andrea nodded frantically, the anticipation of the wax droplets falling on her bare skin sending a fresh wave of arousal through her body. She could feel her heart pounding in the back of her throat, her breathing rapid through her nose making her feel quite light headed and she knew it was a clear sign of her excitement.

Emma's smile grew wider as she watched the blonde squirm in anticipation. She took her time, letting the wax pool at the tip of the candle before letting it dribble down in a slow, torturous descent. The first drop hit the fleshiest part of Andrea's left buttock, the heat searing through the skin. A muffled scream was all that escaped her gag as her body arched, her back bowing off the floor. The wax clung to her skin, a sticky, warm reminder of the younger woman's dominance.

Andrea's eyes watered with pain, but she couldn't deny the thrill that was coursing through her. The sound of the wax dropping was like a siren's call, each one a new bead of agony that somehow only served to heighten her pleasure.

Emma chuckled at her boss's plight, the sadistic glee in her eyes growing with every drop. "Let's make some art, shall we?" she murmured, moving the candle in a slow, deliberate pattern across the pale expanse of skin. The wax fell in a line from the base of her spine to the top of her thighs, creating a fiery trail of pain.

With the candle set aside for the moment, Emma took a deep breath, her eyes drinking in the sight of the bound woman before her. Then, with a swift movement, she placed the candle back on the mantelpiece. She knelt beside Andrea, her hand gentle as it slid under her shoulder, turning her onto her side. The ropes held her in place, her large, bound breasts now facing upwards. The blonde's chest heaved with every breath she took, her eyes wide under the blindfold, a mix of fear and excitement.

Emma took a moment to appreciate the sight of the older woman's body, the soft flesh that begged to be touched. With a deft hand, she began to unbutton the white silk blouse, her movements deliberate and precise. Each button slipped through its hole, revealing more and more of the flushed skin beneath. The fabric parted like the petals of a flower, revealing the fullness of her breasts straining against the confines of her black lace bra.

She slid her fungers into the cups and Wwth a flick of her wrist, she freed one boob, then the other, letting the heavy globes spill out into her waiting hand. The weight of them was surprising, the softness of the skin a stark contrast to the firmness of her grip, the pale skin patterened with blue veins. The blonde's breath hitched in her throat, her eyes squeezed shut tightly beneath the blindfold. She heard Emma’s stockinged feet on the carpet as she walked round her. Andrea’s muscles tensed and strained. She held her breath. Was her cleaner actually going to drip hot wax on her helpless nipples?

Emma leaned over and licked at one of the erect buds. The older woman's body responded immediately, arching towards her young tormentor. "Mmm," Emma hummed, "so sensitive." She took the nipple between her teeth and bit down gently, her eyes watching for any sign of pain. There was none, only a whimper of pleasure.

At the same time as her mouth teased Andrea’s nipples, her hand returned to the older woman’s feet and began to pick the hard cooled wax off. Emma’s nails dug into the wax, peeling it away from the skin in a slow, torturous motion that sent shivers through the blonde’s body. Each piece came away with a slight tug, the sensation sending bolts of pain up her legs that made her toes curl and her hips buck. The young brunette took her time, savoring each moment, her eyes never leaving the bound woman’s face.

Emma’s teeth grazed over one of her nipples, the pressure increasing as she took it between her teeth and tugged gently. The pain was sharp, but it only served to make Andrea even more aroused. The ropes bit into her skin as she strained against them, sure she was tearing her skin with the strain, yet her body was still begging for more,.

Her nails raked over the soft flesh of her breasts, leaving red trails in their wake. The pain was a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure, each scrape sending a fresh wave of desire through her. She could feel Emma’s breath hot and moist on her skin, the younger woman's excitement palpable as she continued to explore and torment her body.

Emma took a riding crop from her bag, the leather long and flexible, the handle smooth and cool in her hand. She gave it a practice swing, the whistle of leather through the air like a promise of what was to come. The sound made Andrea's heart race even faster, her body quivering in anticipation of the pain that was to follow.

With a wicked smirk, Emma began to stroke the whip gently across the arches of her boss's bare feet. The leather was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the candle wax that had tortured her earlier. The sensation was oddly calming, almost soothing, as the whip danced over her sensitive flesh.

The young brunette watched the blonde's face, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all she saw was pure, unbridled lust. The whip traveled up her legs, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps, each stroke sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her body.

Emma took a deep breath and raised the crop high. With a swift, precise motion, she brought it down across the sole of Andrea's left foot. The sound of leather meeting rough skin echoed through the room, followed by a muffled scream. She did it again, and again, each stroke landing exactly where she wanted it to, six in total. The blonde's body tensed with every impact, her muscles rippling with the effort to remain still.

Andrea's eyes watered behind the blindfold, but she didn’t make a sound other than a stifled gasp. She felt the sting of the leather, the pain radiating outwards from the point of impact, spreading through her body like wildfire. Her legs twitched, and she could feel the ropes cutting deeper into her skin, but she didn’t dare move. She knew that any sound or movement would only encourage Emma to be more creative with her torments.

Six more blows landed on hervright foot, the pain nomsurprise but no less intense and each blow sending a warm wave through her whole body. Emmecknelt beside her captive and plaed twelve gentle kisses on the red stripes she had inflicted moments earlier.

She stood up and with her foot tipped Andre back on her side. She picked her pin wheel, baby oil, tweesers an whip,up,placing them back in her bag. “There’s some scisors just behing you, about six inches from your fingers. If you don’t text me by midnight ill be back.”

The sound of heels in the wooden hall floorvpreceeded the crash ofvthecfront door shutting. Andrea was all alone, tied up, gagged and blindfolded.

The pain from the whipping was intense, but it was also strangely satisfying. She felt alive, every nerve ending singing with sensation. The marks on her feet were a stark reminder of the power exchange that had just taken place, and she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of the bruises that would form.

Andrea lay there for a moment, panting heavily, her body covered in a sheen of sweat. The anticipation of what could happen next was almost too much to handle. Would Emma really come back if she didn't text? Or was it all part of the game, a way to keep her on edge? The muscles in her arms and legs were stiff and oaibful, her fingers numb and sweaty. Slowly she began tomwriggle backwards, prob8ng fir the cold metal that would be her release.

[Caesar73]

Nice one!

[MaxRoper]

This is excellent! Well written and extremely hot. The two women are well-defined and quite delightful.

Thanks for all the work you did making this!