Their World

Nine-thirty a.m. The bacon is frying, the biscuits are in the oven, and the coffee's brewing.

Monica and Randy were up a little early for a Sunday. I was exhausted. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night with my head in the toilet. Oh well...such is my life.

When I finished making breakfast, I placed everything neatly on the silver serving tray, including Randy's Sunday paper. I knocked lightly on their bedroom door and opened it. Randy and Monica were still snuggled up underneath the covers. Monica was lying in bed lazily flicking through the channels on the bedroom television. Randy lay there propped up on the luxurious pillows, smoking the morning's first cigarette.

"Smells good!" Monica sat up and clapped her hands as I set up her tray. "I am starving!"

Randy smiled up at me as I served his breakfast. "Did you get any sleep last night?" he teased as I poured his coffee.

"No, sir, I didn't get any sleep."

He didn't acknowledge my answer as he began tearing into the food I had prepared. Monica had taken the TV guide out of the newspaper and flipped through the pages while she ate her breakfast. Randy stopped eating to scan the front page of his paper for a moment.

"Hold my paper," he ordered absent-mindedly as he set down his newspaper and started eating again.

I knew this Sunday morning ritual well. I knelt by his side of the bed, holding up his morning paper for him, so his hands would be free to eat. Every now and then, he'd simply say, "turn it," and I would turn the page for him. Other than that, nothing was else was said to me at breakfast. My arms quickly tired after about a half hour of holding Randy's paper up for him, but I knew that I had better hold it steady. After the terrible day in the shed yesterday - and my sleepless ordeal in the toilet last night - the last thing I wanted to do was to incur Randy's wrath!

I knelt there holding up the paper, trying to ignore the rumbling in my stomach. I had one more day to go on my starvation diet, and it was killing me to watch them eat their gourmet breakfast. I hadn't eaten for 2 days now!

When they finished eating, I took their trays away and washed the dishes. I was almost done when I heard Monica's voice call down for me:

"Hey, bring me more coffee. And get my robe."

I rushed to obey. After I ran upstairs and handed Monica her robe, I went back to the kitchen and poured my wife's cup of coffee.

Then I made a terrible mistake.

As I was setting the coffee down in front of her, I stumbled over one of Randy's discarded sneakers, and spilled some of the hot coffee right onto my wife's lap!

"Owww!" she howled. Then her foot shot out and caught me right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. "You fucking clumsy asshole!" she screamed at me. "That fucking BURNED! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She looked over at Randy and they exchanged knowing glances. Turning back toward me, she said, "well, you fucked up again, didn't you? I guess you're just a fuck-up, aren't you?"

"Yes, Monica, I'm sorry," I croaked.

"You sure as hell got that right - you're the sorriest son of a bitch I've ever met in my life!" She clapped her hands. "Well, I guess we're gonna have us a little fun this morning, then, aren't we?" I didn't like the curious glint in her green eyes as she stared me down. "Go get the rod, faggot," she said in a low voice. "Randy's gonna turn your ass into hamburger."

My heart sank. Not another session with Randy's terrible plastic rod! I had really tried to be good this morning...but it didn't matter. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't escape getting into trouble for something or another!

I rushed to get the weapon, then presented it to my wife's lover from my knees. Randy stretched and yawned loudly before taking the slim, flexible rod from my outstretched hands.

"Face to the carpet, fuckwad," he ordered. I assumed the position, trembling. How many would he give me this time? I never knew what punishment was ahead of me: sometimes, Randy would beat me unmercifully for over an hour for a minor infraction. Sometimes he would just give me a few dozen strokes. It depended on his mood.

Usually, when Monica was present though, he would really lay into me, just to show off to her. So, as I lifted my ass and pressed my nose into the bedroom carpet, I assumed the worst.

As usual, he showed no mercy. I've been trained to not make a sound when I'm being punished, but it's hard to keep it in sometimes. The rod slashed into my flesh again and again. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I sneaked a peek at my wife. She was lying in bed playing with her pussy. She wore a soft smile as she admired her powerful lover's prowess with the rod.

Monica always got a big kick out of watching my facial contortions as I tried not to cry out. I would hold out as long as I could, but Randy would keep whipping me harder and harder until I broke down and begged for mercy. It was like a game almost, to see how long I would be able to hold out until I started crying.

Then, of course, I'd be punished again for making noise!

SLASH! The hardest blow of all landed home, and it broke me. "Please, sir, please, mercy, sir, mercy!" I cried out. Randy chuckled as I continued to beg for him to stop.

My blubberings evidently made Monica mad, because she got up and slapped me hard across the back of my head. "Shut up, wimp, and take it like a man...even though that may be way too much to ask from you." She picked Randy's tennis shoe off the floor and stuffed as much of it as she could into my mouth. It was the very shoe that I had tripped over...the very shoe that got me into this mess in the first place! She pushed the toe of the shoe into my mouth, stretching my jaws wide open. "Suck on that for awhile...and if I hear another peep out of you, you're gonna do another day out in the shed!"

I didn't make another sound.

It seemed like the shower of pain would never end. Eventually, thank God, it did.

"Whew, that was a workout," Randy said as he swung back and lashed me one more time, catching me by surprise and causing me to jump.

Monica giggled. "And one to grow on!" she said. "Get over here, wimp."

I crawled to her as she lay on the soft bed playing with her sacred vagina. She had a strange, faraway look in her blue eyes.

"Suck my toes," she ordered breathlessly. I took Randys shoe out of my mouth and began softly sucking Monica's toes. This was one of the few times I was allowed contact with my wife of any kind, and I tried my best to convey my love for her through my sucking of her toes. I don't think she noticed: she was too busy making out with Randy. He started to play with her pussy as they kissed. I watched with a heavy heart as Randy did as he pleased with my wife, his hand roaming all over her soft body...his fingers disappearing into the soft folds of my Monica's vagina.

Soon, they were at it furiously. I have to admit: Randy was quite a stud. On many occasions I've watched him make love to my wife four and five times in one day. She just cant seem to get enough - and, apparently, neither can he.

As the cadence of their fucking increased, it became increasingly harder for me to continue sucking Monica's toes. I did the best I could, but she kept moving her foot back and forth each time Randy rammed into her, kicking me hard in the mouth several times as I tried to continue worshipping her beautiful painted toes.

With Randy's huge cock pummeling her, and my wet mouth on her toes, it didn't take long for Monica to reach a loud, protracted orgasm. Randy wasn't far behind. He tensed up and pulled out his dick and began shooting his sperm all over my wife's tanned belly. They both collapsed and hugged for a few minutes, oblivious to my presence. They lay there and enjoyed their special afterglow while I knelt at the foot of the bed patiently.

Eventually, Monica looked down at me from her reclining position on the bed. "Go get me a towel, and another cup of coffee." She looked at me seriously. "And if you spill this one, I'll put your fat ass on a starvation diet for another week! Now go!"

I scampered off to get the towel. Sometimes, Monica would have me lick up Randy's cum, and sometimes she wasn't in the mood. I was sad, because licking up Randy's semen was one of those precious moments when I would be allowed any sort of sexual contact with my wife. But I guess she didn't want to be bothered today.

I handed Monica her towel, and she wiped up the sticky goo from her belly. She then vigorously began wiping off the stray ropes of semen on her pubic hair. When she finished, Randy took the towel from her and wiped off his fat, glazed dick. Then he rolled up the towel, the way kids do in the locker room, and popped me in my groin. His second hit caught me square in the balls, and I doubled over in pain, groaning.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you sissy. That didn't hurt," Randy said as he popped me in the face with the towel, then threw it at me. It landed on my head, covering my face. "Go get me a cup of coffee, too."

As they lay in bed sipping their coffee and watching TV, I roamed around the room picking up their discarded clothing from the night before. They were such slobs! I'd just cleaned the bedroom yesterday morning. How could it have gotten so messed up already?

Cleaning wasn't a concern for either of them. In the two years I'd been serving my wife and Randy, they'd gotten quite used to having me there to pick up after them. Now, they didn't even think about it. It was just expected that I would go behind them and clean up all their messes.

"Excuse me, Monica," I interrupted my wife's TV watching after I'd straightened up the bedroom and stood before her submissively. "You wanted me to remind you - Debbie and Ron's picnic is today."

"Oh, that's right, it is today" she said, sitting up in the bed. I tried not to stare as the blanket fell down and ******* one of Monica's soft breasts. She held out her hand expectedly. "Get me the phone," she ordered casually.

I handed her the phone and she dialed her friend. While she gabbed on the phone, Randy took a shower. I went into the basement and began separating Monica and Randy's dirty clothes. I took the clean clothes from the dryer and began carefully folding them.

After awhile, I heard Monica call me. I scampered upstairs to see what she wanted and found both my wife and Randy sitting on the edge of the bed naked, engaged in conversation.

"I want my white shorts and blue navy top," she announced, not even looking up at me.

"And get my jeans and my red T-shirt ready," Randy piped in. Then they continued their conversation as I went to got their clothes ready for them.

After they dressed, Monica announced that they would probably be back from the picnic at about 6 that evening.

As they started to leave the house, Randy turned toward me and smiled.

"Hey, you remember what tonight is, don't you?" he asked me.

Of course I knew what night it was...he just wanted to rub it in.

"Yes, sir. I remember," I said respectfully. "Tonight's 'Fashion Show Night,' sir."

"You know it!" he said. "Get everything ready for us," he said over his shoulder as they walked away.

"Fashion Show Night" is a special time in our household. Let me explain: As I've said, Monica loves nothing better than to spend my money. On her frequent shopping excursions, she always loads up on new lingerie for the love of her life, Randy. She has two dressers full of teddies, babydolls, corsets - you name it, my wife probably has it.

Anyway, "Fashion Show Night," is where Monica shows off all the new lingerie she's bought. While Randy lays on the bed like a king, Monica models the new lingerie for him. Then, she'll go into the bathroom, where I am waiting with the next outfit, ready to help her change. It always makes me sad to watch my wife go through so many changes to please Randy.

After Randy has seen all of the selections, we have a little ritual: I kneel at the side of the bed and ask the reclining master of the household which nighty was his favorite. Most of the time, he picks out a few, and I have to go get them one by one. I hold each of them out for him again so he can narrow his decision down to one piece of lingerie. After he picks one, I am to go back into the bathroom and dress Monica in the outfit he'd specified.

Then they make love like crazy.

After I watched Monica and Randy drive away, I began my chores. I finished their laundry, made the bed, picked up the discarded wet towels from the bathroom, and wiped down the toilet where Randy had pissed and missed. It was the first Sunday of the month, so it was wall-washing day. I thoroughly scrubbed down all the walls in the house, which took about five hours. Then I did my daily scrubbing of the kitchen floor. By the time I'd finished my chores, it was nearing six, so I lit candles throughout the house to welcome my master and my mistress from their outing.

PART 5...COMING SOON!!!