This is part 4 in a Erotica written by Pervyworm. Content has not been altered. 
I know I needed a way out from the humiliating grasp of my neighbor, Mrs. Fuentes. But the more I was ordered around by her, the more I wanted to be ordered around by her. She began to call me over when I should be studying to bring her mundane things like paper clips or a bag of flour. I would arrive and she would be wearing nothing but a bra, panties, corset, garter belt and nylons. I was conflicted. Should I have told my parents? Yes. I hated the labor and degradation she made me undergo. But I secretly enjoyed the torment. The teasing, kept me coming back. I knew I had as much a part to play in all of this as she did, I just didn’t know how large my part would be at the time.
She told me, I would have to wait on her and her girlfriends as they played cards tonight. She had a uniform she wanted me to try on for the night. It was an important night, she told me so I had to look presentable. She was hosting, so everything had to be perfect for the guests. Mrs. Price, most of all.
Mrs. Price, was the newest neighbor on the block. She bought the house across the street from Mrs. Fuentes. It belonged to an old man who left no next of kin when he kicked it and the house was put on the market for a steal. I didn’t see anyone else ever leave the house except Mrs. Price herself, but she was always in style. She dressed in tight dresses or skimpy skirts and always with pantyhose and high heels that looked expensive. She was a beautiful blonde woman of Scandanavian descent. Her cheekbones were high and her nose towards me was higher. She was wealthy due to being a widow and used that wealth solely on herself, visiting spas and vacationing frequently. The beaus that picked her up each night probably paid for her luxuries as well, always giving her a stack of cash or gifts when they picked her up.
“****, You are a vivacious young man. Tell me, what  do you think about Mrs. Fuentes lending you out to me this summer? I have a huge house with a lot of rooms. And a tiny little toothbrush you could  use.” Cooed Mrs. Price. “That’s just being mean, Zulma.”, Said Mrs. Fuentes, defending me. “If it’s not enough, he could always bring his own.” The women laughed hard as I shuffled to get their drinks filled. The outfit I was made to wear was similar to a waiter’s tuxedo, but all the garments were stitched together. The tie was sewn to the shirt, which was sewn on to the pants. It was a humiliating onesie that left my forearms and legs below the knees bare. I had one white cuffs that looked cut from a regular suit.
“Fill mine to the brim, ****. I have a toast to make.” Mrs. Fuentes threw her empty glass to me, her hand filled with jewelry. Rings, bracelets all adorning her soft, wispy hand as she clinked and waited to have her glass filled. I shook as I did, since usually these announcements meant more work for me. “Jeanette, my youngest was nominated Prom queen! Just like her sister and just like her mother!” The women clapped and drank a toast to Mrs. Fuentes’ prestige, then poured the rest of their drinks on the floor.
My heart sank since I knew Mrs. Fuentes’ didn’t carry any towels. “Oh, my! Clumsy us, I’m so sorry, ****. It looks like you have your work cut out for you.” The women fell silent and expectant. They looked at me, some sneered and others were bored. Mrs. Price was curious. “Is he really going to do it?” Mrs. Price asked. “I don’t know, is he?” asked Mrs. Fuentes, rhetorically. I knelt on the floor, as I did the onesie rode up my legs. I began to do what I was trained to do when liquid fell on the floor: I used my clothes. I scrunched up my sleeves and soaked up as much wine as I could. I started, first, around Mrs. Fuentes. She dug her heels into my leg as she spilled what remained in her drink  over my head. I then reached her guests’ spills, and finally Mrs. Price. Mrs. Price noticed I had no more dry sleeves to clean up her mess. “You could always roll around in it, like a drunk wittle puppy dog.” Her giggle was very seductive, almost flirtatious. Her unbelievable cleavage made for quite the disturbance as I rolled around the wine soaked floor, half erect.
“I guess we know where he’s spending his summer! I should make a little trick wheel for you. And every time you do a trick, you could get a treat.” She rubbed me behind my ear as I rolled up on my knees, too ashamed to look up. The women decided they had their fun with me and continued their game. I kept their drinks filled as they played game after game. Hours went by, her guests had left, and I was finally dismissed by Mrs. Fuentes. I asked her for my clothes back. She looked at me silently. Did she really expect me to go back home looking like a wine stained monkey? Apparently so, since she seemed to forget about the clothes I brought. I was pretty sure that she hid them from me.
She came back and handed me my clothes. I was about to walk to the bathroom to change when Mrs. Fuentes grabbed me by my collar. She swung me back and nearly took my head off in the process. I coughed as she ordered me to change in front of her. I took my uniform off and stood in front of her naked. She scanned my body with her eyes, taking her time around my waist.
“You are pathetic, you know that?” I covered myself in shame. “Don’t cover up! Stand straight!” I did, mindlessly. “Look at you, a toy. My own toy. Of course, you’re whatever I want you to be, aren’t you?” I tried to speak up. Mrs. Fuentes steamrolled me with the truth. “Shut up, Boo-boo. Do you know why I call you that?” She called me Boo-boo since I was a little kid. I thought it was an innocent nickname. “Since you were young were always getting hurt. I wondered if you were just a klutz, but you weren’t. You were naturally submissive. Naturally docile. When the boys in the neighborhood played cops and robbers with the girls tying them up, you let my little girls play Wednesday and Pugsly with you. They’d take you down to the den and when I’d check on you there, they’d be outside playing hopscotch as you sat tied up with jump ropes and hair bands. Their socks taped in your mouth. I always thought that day would be the day you would run home to momma, crying about how the girls next door were mean to you. But you never did. You would always answer the door when they came calling.” She was right, I always had a crush on the girls, and wanted to stay in their good graces. Their affection was the carrot, and me being their pincushion was the stick.
I realized then all too late what her plan was: she decided to wait until I was of age to do anything illicit or particularly daring, but played the king con well. “I want you to do something for me, ****. I want you to tell your parents you’re going on a trip with your school. My girls will vouch for you. You will pack a bag and say goodbye to them till Monday morning. Then you will walk over here, throw that bag in the closet and stay over here. I have a lot of things for you to do. Get dressed. Wait. Kneel.” I got down on my knees and kept my head down. I was taking all this in, then she told me to look up. Mrs. Fuentes then proceed to hock a huge phlegm-filled wad of spit directly into my face. “Now you can get dressed, Boo-boo.” I stood up and didn’t even wipe the spit as I got dressed. I knew I was all hers. And the smile that crept across her face said she did, too.
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