Always have your mouth ready for her

In the weeks that followed, Jesse had demanded that whenever she came home from work, that you cleanse her body with your mouth. She taught you the path she liked you to follow and every day you followed it to a T.

She'd come in, wearing her taut work suit. You'd take her bag and coat, being sure to call her honey and ask how her day was. Your roommates raised their eyebrows at your new behavior but never asked questions. You'd lead her to your room and then your daily mission began.

You'd strip her yourself, like as if you were her butler, until she was left in nothing but a bra and panties.

You'd start at her feet, giving small pecks on Jesse's painted toenails. She'd inevitably get impatient and lift one of her feet up, guiding it into your mouth. You'd swirl your tongue around each toe, cleaning it of any lint and sweat.

You'd then drag your tongue up her ankles and calves, making sure your tongue was out the whole way, drying it as her salty sweaty skin entered your throat. You'd work your way up her sides, getting her underboob and armpits first before gorging yourself on the parts you enjoyed -- her pleasure came first.

During this time, Jesse would act non-plussed. This was your duty to her now. She brought home the bacon, and you made sure to let her know how appreciated this was. With your cleansing tongue.

Once you had worked your way down to her fingers, she'd stick them in your mouth a little forcefully. Although her face didn't portray it, she enjoyed seeing how much you could take before you gagged.

It was at this point that you were allowed to worship her clothed pussy. Jesse would stand above you as you knelt before her perfect form. She'd grab the back of your head and say the same words that caused your dick to twitch every time,

"Who's my little bitch?"

You'd respond in the affirmative and she'd shove your face in between her thighs, burying you in the sweet fuzzy sensation of her panties. Jesse would buck and writhe as her clit came into contact with your nose and lips. The little bit of control she'd relinquish came in her coos and moans as she bucked against your mouth.

"You're. My. Fucking. Bitch."

She'd say with each thrust against you. You became accustomed to neck soreness as each time she approached an orgasm, she'd shove you longer and deeper into her, refusing to let you have any control. Your face was just a toy to her -- no more significant or worthy of respect than a vibrator or dildo.

Your erection would strain against the fabric of your boxers, and depending on whether Jesse was feeling merciful or not that day, she may or may not take off her panties and shove you into her naked snatch. On days she didn't, your reward was to eat her cum off the panties and stroke yourself off before bed.

But on days like today, when she let you have at her bare pussy, she'd scream,

"I'm gonna cum in your fucking mouth, John. Don't take your fucking mouth off my pussy. I want all of my cum going down your throat and I want you to swallow all of me."

Her fingers would interlock, gripping your hair, and she'd thrust like she had a cock, wet slopping sounds as her drenched lips collided with yours. Inevitably, the excitement of this would cause your cock to erupt and you'd slather the inside of your boxers at the same time that Jesse would explode all over your face -- a mixture of Jesse's cum and sweet squirt.

Jesse would look at your moist boxers and laugh.

"Isn't this arrangement much better?" She'd giggle as she fell into bed, writhing in the afterglow of your servitude.