An adequate midday

As Karen slowly rose from the washing machine, her movements were almost mesmerizing. The way her robe shifted and fell back into place, revealing just a glimpse of her thighs before settling back down, was enough to make my heart race. Every motion she made seemed to accentuate her curves, from the gentle sway of her hips to the subtle arch of her back as she straightened up. I couldn't help but notice how the fabric of her robe clung to her body, outlining every sweet curve and contour.

As she stood upright, her robe fell back into place, but not before giving me a tantalizing view of her ass. It was round and firm, with just the right amount of bounce as she moved. I could feel my pulse quicken as I took in the sight, my mind racing with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. I tore my gaze away just in time to catch her looking at me, her expression a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. Did she notice me staring? I quickly schooled my features into a neutral expression, hoping she didn't catch on to my momentary lapse in judgment.

With a casual shrug, I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Well, looks like the vent is just fine," I said nonchalantly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. "Let's get started with the laundry, shall we?"

Karen nodded slowly, still looking a bit flustered from our previous interaction. "Sure, what's next?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

I gave her a reassuring smile, trying to put her at ease. "Next up is sorting the laundry," I replied, gesturing towards the piles of clothes scattered around the room. "We need to separate them into different piles based on what type of clothing it is before we can start washing."

As I explained the next step to Karen, I began to dig through her dirty laundry myself, separating them into different categories based on their type.

"Alright, Karen, I'll try to go slowly for you," I said, holding up a delicate floral blouse. "This is a blouse. Blouses are typically made of lighter fabric and are meant to be worn over pants or skirts. They belong in the pile for tops."

Karen nodded along cutely as I placed the blouse on the right side of the table in a new pile next to the washer. "Got it," she replied, her voice soft.

I moved on to the next item, a pair of jeans. "These are jeans," I continued to mansplain, holding them up for her to see. "Jeans are a type of legwear, and they belong in the pile for bottoms." With that, I set the jeans down in a pile next to the blouse, also on the right side of the table.

Karen watched me attentively, though I could tell from her expression that I was starting to get to her. I definitely wasn't saying anything she didn't already know, and I'm sure my tone didn't help. Still, she nodded along obediently, not wanting to voice any objections.

Next, I picked up a lacy pair of underwear, taking a moment to admire the intricate detailing. The fabric was soft and delicate, with a hint of lace trim along the edges.

Had she ever ever masturbated wearing these? Mmm...

"Now, these are underwear," I said quickly, snapping myself out of my daydream. "They belong in the underwear pile." I started a new underwear pile on the left side of the table as far away from the washing machine as possible.

She didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss. In fact, Karen actually even seemed more comfortable with the idea of me touching her intimate clothing than earlier when I was rummaging through her wardrobe. That had to be a good sign.

As I continued to go piece by piece, demonstrating my expectations for the different types of piles she would need, I set each new pile at a specific place on the table, ordering them by how sexy I thought they would look on her. Sexiest on the left. Most mundane on the right.

She was, of course, too oblivious to notice my master plan. Although, to be fair, my mind control marker probably had something to do with that.

As soon as I finished setting up all of the piles, I handed the rest of the sorting off to Karen. Immediately, she moved into action, organizing her other dirty clothes into the piles I had started for her. She worked with the speed of someone who had something to prove, her movements becoming more fluid as she focused on the task at hand. She was definitely determined to prove that she could handle the laundry on her own, without any further guidance from me. To prove she wasn't as incompetent as I made her out to be.

Or, more likely, she just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so she could finally change out of her bathrobe.

As Karen worked, I found myself slowing down, my attention drifting away from the laundry and towards her curvy body. I couldn't help but steal glances at her as she moved about the room, her robe swaying gently with each movement. The soft white towel fabric accentuated the most feminine aspects of her figure in a way that was impossible to describe as anything but perfect.

At one point, I caught sight of her bending over to pick up a fallen sock, her robe riding down her chest slightly, revealing a delectable glimpse of her cleavage. The sight sent a jolt of arousal through me, and I had to quickly tear my gaze away before she caught me staring and drooling like a Neanderthal.

Besides. Soon enough, she would be mine.

I would make my bitch of a stepmom earn her keep. Hopefully.

In a blur, the sorting was done and my attention snapped back into focus. "You know, Karen, you've surprisingly done a really good job with this," I said, looking over her work.

"I'm impressed. I didn't think you had it in you."

Of course, I had expected her to be able to do this. Sorting dirty laundry wasn't difficult or a lot of work. But she beamed at my compliment nonetheless, clearly very proud of herself.

Her eagerness was almost endearing, and for a moment, I almost felt bad for what I was going to do to her next. But I quickly pushed that thought aside as I began to pick up the mundane piles near the washer and put them inside.

"As you can see, the next step is to put the clothes in the washer," I narrated, my tone patronizing yet instructional. Within a few seconds, I had shoved the piles nearest to the washer - the ones with all of her basic tops and bottoms - inside. It was definitely overflowing with clothes, but with some pushing and a shoving, I managed to make it fit snugly. Karen gave me a skeptical look, but didn't say anything. She hasn't noticed yet.

The only clothes left on the table were her intimates.

Once the machine was loaded, I grabbed the bottle of detergent and poured a generous amount into the dispenser. "And next, we add the detergent," I explained as condescendingly as I could.

"And lastly, we press the 'Start' button."

As I closed the lid, water rushed into the machine, soaking her clothes. The washer began to hum and shake as water poured in and it began its first cycle.

At that moment, I stopped abruptly, pretending as if I had been struck by a sudden realization.

It was time for my plan.

"Oh no," I said, furrowing my brow in mock concern. "I almost forgot something important."

I turned to face her and asked, "Is the bathrobe you are wearing dirty?"

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Uh, well, I did just shower," she replied hesitantly.

"Exactly! So did it absorb all of that filthy bath water?"

Realization dawned on her face, and she cringed slightly. "I guess so," she admitted reluctantly.

"And now that we've put in the first load of laundry, we are about to go do some of your other chores," I continued. "Chores that take place outside of this room."

She cocked her head to the left, not fully sure of what I was trying to hint at.

"Right," I said, feigning exasperation. "If you go outside of this room, wearing something dirty like that bathrobe, then you'll be spreading filth all over the house. It doesn't matter how good of a job you do with the rest of your chores - the whole house will be unclean because you were wearing that unwashed bathrobe."

Her eyes widened a fraction. I could tell she was beginning to understand my implication.

I probed again, "We don't want the dirt spreading outside the laundry room, do we? Not after we worked so hard to quarantine all of your dirty clothes in here."

She shook her head meekly.

"Then you need to put your dirty bathrobe in the wash." I glanced over at the washing machine that had begun to shake and vibrate. "Quickly, before it finishes this cycle"

Karen hesitated, looking at the table filled with underwear and then back at the washing machine. A look of uncertainty crossed her features. "But if I take it off, what will I wear? I think most of my clothes are in the washing machine. And I can't go around the house ... uh, naked." she croaked.

I rolled my eyes, feigning annoyance. "You're right - but we wouldn't be in this mess if you did your chores more often and weren't such a slob" I chided. "It's a good thing you have me here to advice you. You're hopeless at this stuff". "

Closing my eyes, I pretended to contemplate for a moment. "I guess if everything you have available is dirty, then you'll just have to wear the cleanest thing you have. Obviously, that will be the one that has the least surface area. Less surface area, less space for germs," I said matter-of-factly.

I was expecting her to give me a ****-stare. To realize how flimsy my excuse was. To shove me out of the room and call the cops. Something drastic and **** to match this crazy situation I had engineered. But surprisingly, there was nothing.

Sure, there was a brief moment of hesitation. But Karen ultimately relented with a defeated sigh. "You're right," she muttered, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Thanks for your help, Marcus. I really appreciate your help. Clearly, I still have a lot to learn. I'll put it in the wash." She motioned at the door for some privacy.

I fought hard to keep the grin of my face.

"Of course you will, Karen," I said smugly. "And I was serious about the surface area. If you choose something that spreads germs all around my house, I will have you working night and day to fix it."

With that, I walked out of the room.