Not having to do kitchen work, I change out of my uniform directly into the sexy apparel Rhodi prefers. This evening a negligee... diaphanous... flashing both breasts and a well trimmed mons. There’s no point in dressing modestly in Bobbi’s presence... he’s seen, sniffed and tasted all... St. Sappho stage six training imbuing oral skills for not only Masters but for the satiation of handlers as well in order to acclimate to servicing prospective wives and girl friends.
Rhodi’s reaction will be one of surprise... pleasant surprise? Or horrifying surprise. Either way she’ll settle into acceptance I’m sure.
I return to the kitchen. Bobbi is at work, his domestic skills on display... as is his complete nakedness. I reach and squeeze his buttocks... smooth, soft, inviting. He protests not, my hands and fingers are free to poke, prod and pinch... for the most part owning every inch of his hairless form.
“I found some steaks, Miss Joan. Baked potato. Caesar salad okay? Any food allergies?” trained as would an accomplished chef.
Bobbi turns and notes my allure, immediately putting down his utensils and kneeling. I cradle his head, drawing his face to my mons. His hands reach, attempting to part the flimsy folds.
“No, no Bobbi. That’s for Rhodi,” I admonish.
But is it for Rhodi? As stated oral is not our thing, other than suckling nipples and breasts during foreplay. Will this work? I must give thought as Bobbi tenderly grasps my forearms, pulling away my hands. He begins to lick my palms as would a fawning puppy, that long, strong, broad tongue lapping, his trained mouth seeking to engulf my fingers in deference to his fellatio training.
The boy has such needs.
“Thank you, Miss Joan... for caring for me,” the words so obsequious. “I will please you.”
“Yes, you will, Bobbi. But I’ll need to have you tested. Draw some blood after dinner. And clean your pod. Good girlie boys get warm water,” my tone foreboding.
I feel Bobbi shudder, recalling the punishment meted to bad beneficiaries once podded. Any number of sauces can easily be injected into a beneficiary’s metal covered genitals. Freezing cold water itself is a simple, fast and a readily available deterrent for bad behavior. Bobbi well remembers.
“I’ll be good, Miss Joan.”
“Yes, you will. And as a reminder, my lover is Rhodi... Miss Rhodi to you. I plan to have her become your new Master.”
“You’ve explained to her... who I am... what I am?”
“For the most part. We’ll see if she chooses to step into the role of Mastering you.”
It will be interesting. On rare occasions, when Rhodi has had a trying day, we don’t trib... embrace and frottage pussy to pussy. Instead she digs out her Feeldoe double dildo... designed for women by women. In venting her frustration my role is to submit to her deep powerful thrusts, her athleticism evident.
It’s condescending for me. Yet we’re lovers. I cede for her. But as I said, it’s not often.
Will that change?
“How did your Master’s wife use you, Bobbi?” my hands slipping under his arms in encouraging him to rise and resume his kitchen duties.
“I cooked and cleaned.”
“Of course you did. Other tasks?”
“I bathed her, groomed her, helped with dressing.”
“Good. You’ll do that for us. And?..” I inquire knowing there’s more.
“Well... she... sought to be cleaned... after... you know... being with Master... and...” Bobbi becoming bashful.
“After toilet, I’m sure. You needn’t be shy about that, Bobbi. You were well trained for it.”
As was I. My own bashfulness about using a beneficiary in such a sordid manner had to be countered as well. But in time on St. Sappho it became second nature, using the likes of Bobbi as often as the bathroom.
“Rhodi may not seek to use you in that manner. Not initially.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
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