Chapter 1 - LAIR


Martha was on her hands and knees surveying her catmint and Russian sage. An older gentleman in black khaki shorts and white polo shirt emblazoned with the Martha Stewart Living logo approached from behind. Martha’s ass was splayed. She wore tight beige yoga pants. Her plump ass cheeks shimmied ever-so-slightly as she worked. The view from behind was sensational. The delectable outline of her vulva pressed into her pants and showed off her exquisite folds and crevices. The man paused for a moment to admire her. Martha’s private parts package highlighted a soft knob of flesh in her bundle of femininity.
“Good afternoon, Miss Martha - your fresh lemonade.”
Martha continued working and after a long pause muttered, “Yes, Sappington, just a minute. I need to fix Ricardo’s mess. I don’t know where he learned to prune sage, but it certainly wasn’t from me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sappington.
Martha got to her feet and brushed dirt from her knees. She took a sip and said, “Mmm, tart just like how I like it. Did you give it the little extra attention I requested?”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
“Well, I can’t taste it. Do it again.”
“Here? In the middle of the garden?”
“Yes, Sappington, here in the middle of the fucking garden.”
The butler unzipped his shorts and looked around hoping his coworkers weren’t around. Martha handed him the lemonade. He took out his 8-incher and glanced up at Martha to see if she really wanted him to do this. She nodded with an impish grin while thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. Sappington plunged his manhood into the icy drink and gave it a few stirs. Martha began massaging her love mound over her pants.
“And a nice teabag dunk.”
“But, Ma’am, it’s cold.”
“Do it!
The beaten man lowered his shorts, squatted and dunked his balls and lifted himself out of the drink. The icy beverage shocked his sac and every wrinkle flattened instantaneously.
“Who told you to take them out? Put those balls back in my drink!” she said sternly.
Sappington did as he was told.
“All the way in Sappington.”
He had to push his nuts past ice cubes until he was submerged to his taint.
“Very good - now keep them there.”
First, his nuts tingled, then stung, and after a few minutes, it felt like a blade pierced his sac. Sappington began trembling and was about to pass out. At last, Martha said, “OK, that will suffice.”
He removed his screaming gonads from Miss Martha’s beverage and handed the glass to her before collapsing in the grass with his shorts at his ankles. Martha raised the glass and smelled deeply. She removed her long-billed yellow hat and felt the sunlight on her face. She savored the scent of her servant’s cock and balls and concentrated to sense a hint of man-ass. She knew her panties were spotted with wetness now. She took a long draft of the lemonade and allowed the sensations to wash over her and dissipate. She looked at him with pity as he lay in the dirty half-clothed.
“Sort yourself out, you fool! I have business in my lair after dinner. I’ll need four or five fresh loads of cum from you for my spells this evening.
“As you say, Miss Martha,” said Sappington, as he limped towards the Mansion.


Martha freshened up after working in the garden and took her seat at the end of a 16-seat table made of redwood tree. She was the only person seated, but there was a flurry of activity from the kitchen crew. They filled the table in front of her with delectables like X.
She tugged the lapel of a waiter and said, “Pick that bowl of caviar up and place it down properly,” mimicking the Hitler-esque prison guard in her favorite film, A Clockwork Orange. The waiter didn’t get to reference but did as he was told. Martha feasted for over an hour.
Once Martha had her fill, she clapped three times and the waitstaff deftly cleared the table and returned to the kitchen. Martha dabbed the corners of her mouth with a silk handkerchief from Italy. She reached under the table and pressed a button. A gorgeous, dark-haired woman in her twenties came out wearing a French maid outfit. She wore black nylons. Her skirt only covered half of her backside. She carried a tray adorned with crème brûlée, a small can of Osetra caviar, and vodka in a frosty shot glass. Martha scooped a dollop of caviar into her mouth with a miniature spoon.
The exquisite fish eggs melted in her mouth. Martha downed the cold shot of vodka and slammed the glass upside down onto the table like Putin and her billionaire Russian oligarch pals do in Moscow. Martha beckoned Gisele to come closer. Giselle gazed into Martha’s eyes and whispered in a French accent, “Madame, I can’t stop thinking about you.” Martha moved her chair backwards, so Gisele could straddle her face-to-face. They kissed softly and then long and deep. Martha kissed Giselle‘s chest and moved Giselle‘s bra to suckle her pink pink nipple. Giselle’s back arched in ecstasy. Martha used many of her staff for sex, but she had deep feelings for Gisele.
Their petting intensified and Martha said urgently in Giselle‘s ear, “It’s time for my crème brûlée.” Giselle positioned the dessert in front of Martha. Giselle slipped off her black G-string and held it to Martha’s nose so she could smell her moist French pussy. Martha purred with eyes closed then placed her hand with her middle finger upturned in the seat next to her. Martha fished out a small packet of lube from her pocket and dabbed her fingertip. Giselle squatted over Martha‘s finger and slowly received it in her tight brown hole. Martha enjoyed the warmth of Giselle‘s insides as her finger disappeared. Giselle stuck her finger in the creme brulee and few Martha. Giselle smiled as Martha’s tongue clean off the treat from Giselle’s finger. Giselle didn’t move up and down. She simply sat on her madams finger and allowed Martha to lick and suck the tasty dessert from her fingers.

By the last few spoons of the dessert, Martha could feel the steady pulse of Gisele‘s heartbeat from deep inside her anus - that was Martha’s favorite moment with Giselle - the heartbeat and the stillness. After a few savory moments, Giselle uncorked her herself from Martha’s hand and put her underwear on by sliding it beneath her maids miniskirt. Martha did not move her hand that had just been buried deep in the maid’s cozy love tunnel. Instead, Martha pressed her summoning button and simply said, “Ricky.”


Martha pressed the red button labeled “Ricky” and in less than a minute, the elevator door dinged open. The dining room had a masculine, deep, chocolate and caramel color scheme, as did the inside of the elevator. Ricky was dressed in a white jumpsuit. He hugged Martha politely and focused his attention on her middle finger - the one that was lodged inside Nikki‘s butthole.
For fifteen years, Martha had trusted only Ricky to clean and sterilize her butthole finger. This stoked the ire of other trusted staff members but as Martha would say, “Ricky’s cleaning is absolutely world class and that’s no malarkey!”
Ricky was born in Cuba. His mother was a maid for Fidel Castro‘s family and his father was a feckless drunk and adulterer who would disappear for months at a time. Ricky was quintessentially American having paid his dues cleaning subway cars in New York City.
In 2014, Martha rode a subway car en route to Nobu for dinner and raved about how clean it was. It smelled like lavender and the stainless steel handrails sparkled. She inquired about who cleaned the car and later that week, Martha sent for Ricky and offered him a bedroom and his own private elevator in her Connecticut mansion. His only responsibility was to clean her butthole finger after dinner shenanigans with the maid each night. Ricky donned gloves and held Martha’s finger up inspecting it carefully. He sniffed it.
“Oh dear, Nikki had bouillabaisse for dinner last night,” said Ricky.
Ricky was a whirlwind of spritzing, rubbing and massaging. Within minutes, Martha’s finger was spotless. During Ricky‘s first few weeks working for Martha, she smelled her finger after his handiwork to make sure the poopy smell didn’t linger but for the past decade, she trusted him implicitly. Ricky stood smiling and said, “Perfecto, Madame.”
“Gracias, Ricky. You may go,” said Martha. Ricky made his way back to his elevator and Martha said, “See you tomorrow night, Ricky.” Next, Martha did what she had done thousands of times. She dipped her finger into a bowl of pudding and licked her finger clean. All she tasted was expensive Peruvian tapioca.

----What do ya think?