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  • Handyman Ch. 03

Handyman Ch. 03

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Previously in Handyman.

Andy, a student home for his summer holidays, has started work as a handyman for the Hall's, his mother's employers and landlords. However, right from the start, Mrs. Hall has made it quite clear that she wants Andy for far more than his skills as a handyman.

She now 'owns' Andy and her 'ownership' is symbolised by the name-tag at the end of the chain attached to a ring around his genitals and, if he fails to follow her capricious demands he is liable to be punished severely.

However, imagine his surprise when he finds that being owned by the Halls runs in the family and his mother has an identical name tag attached to a chain hanging from her groin. To give them time to talk things over Mrs Hall has padlocked these chains together leaving them with barely fifteen inches of freedom between Andy's genitals to his mother's groin.

Despite Andy's initial misgivings he talked things over with his mother and has agreed, for the moment, to see what tomorrow may bring.

But the big questions still remain: how far out of his comfort zone will Andy be forced to go and how much will he like it when he gets there?

Now read on

I woke the next morning with a full bladder and a raging erection.

"Mum, mum, wake up, I need the loo."

"Well just go then, I'm not stopping you... oh, god... yes I am, aren't I. Come along, let's see if we can get out of this bed without causing each other a serious injury."

Getting out of the bed proved even harder than getting into it. Mum suggested that she lay on top of me so that we could slide down the bed together. It was then that she discovered my erection and, as my stiff prick was crushed between us, it was about as awkward as it could be. Once we got to the bit where my butt was all but hanging over the edge we carefully manoeuvred until, with only a few gentle tugs on the chain, we were both standing up. Then it was time for our sideways dance together as we made our way to the bathroom.

As we had found the previous night, going to the toilet while chained together was far from straightforward. Standing up was out of the question and, when either one of us was sat the other either had to squat uncomfortably or, better still, sit on the knees of the one actually using the toilet. It certainly didn't leave any room for privacy or modesty.

The rest of our morning ablutions were just a matter of taking care although, while I was shaving and mum was putting on her makeup, we could only get to the mirror by peering over the other's shoulder. I told her I couldn't understand why she needed makeup in the first place but she just replied that men didn't understand.

Being chained together precluded any clothing below the waist. However, in the interim we put on dressing gowns so that, apart from the fact we had to stand so close together, the rest of the morning was surprisingly normal. We went down to the kitchen where we ate a couple of slices of toast and drank our coffee standing up.

And then it was almost seven thirty and time to meet Mrs. Hall. We shuffled around the house collecting some clean clothes which mum put in a carrier bag. However, before leaving the house, mum suggested that we should leave our dressing gowns behind. Given Mrs Hall's delight in embarrassing us this sounded like good sense so, naked once again, it was time to resume the dance as we made our way back to the stables.

Mrs Hall was stood at the top of the drive waiting for us and she seemed girlishly delighted to watch us as we approached.

"There you are, my little toy boy and his mum! You do look so sweet together. I do hope you had a good night."

"Yes, thank you, Ma'am," mum replied. I let her answer for both of us.

"And the chain is still fully in place? Let me see. Ah, perfect. I know Andy was a little upset but I was sure it would work out in the end. It almost seems a shame to free you both, you look so good together. How about I let you stay like that a little longer, the rest of the morning perhaps... Oh, your faces! What a picture! Was it really so bad? Let this be a warning to you to be on your behaviour or you'll be spending another night like this."

She took a key from her pocket and, once she unlocked the chains, mum and I were able to step apart for first time since the end of the pony show.

"There you go. Now, Andy, I want this place spotless by the time I return and Leslie, Master will require breakfast at eight thirty as usual. Bye!"

As Mrs Hall headed back to the house mum and I went to the tack room to get dressed. Yesterday's dirty clothes were consigned to the plastic bag that mum had used to bring the clean stuff in. I couldn't help but notice that her entire outfit consisted of her dress and shoes. Like me she was not allowed underwear.

At first nothing was different. Mum went off to start on the Hall's breakfast, I tidied up in the stables. At nine o'clock Mrs Hall came down for her ride and nothing could have been more normal. Well, normal if you allow for her finding fault with my work and giving me six of the best with the riding crop, but that was pretty normal by then. However, come mid-morning I found out just how much everything had changed.

It started when I received a text from Mr Hall asking me to come up to his study to discuss plans for renovating some of the outhouses. This had been an ongoing project of his and, at first, I thought nothing of it.

But, as I approached his office I could hear mum's voice. Mostly it was just animal grunting but the words 'please, master, harder, harder' were clear enough. I thought of turning and running away but my curiosity got the better of me and, when I got to the open door of his office and looked in, there she was, bent over his desk, her dress bunched up around her waist while Mr Hall took her from behind. I gasped and both of them looked up and saw me.

"I'll come back later."

"For heaven's sake, boy, I thought we'd got past all of that. Come on in, this won't take long." And all the while he never missed a stroke.

I stood at the door, dithering.

"Dammit, boy, I thought I gave you an order. Come in and close the door."

I went and stood next to the desk where, appalled but also fascinated, I could indeed see everything. He wasn't just fucking my mother from behind, he was taking her anally and I could clearly see the lube glistening as his prick slid back and forth in and out of my mother's sphincter. At least he was wearing a condom. With her left hand, my mother was holding herself steady by gripping the far side of the desk; meanwhile her right was tucked up underneath her. When Mr Hall pulled back I noticed that this was because she had reached up under her dress and she was playing with herself.

"Doesn't she look beautiful? There's nothing like a willing arse, wide open and waiting!"

"Willing?" I questioned. Mr Hall looked at me exasperated.

"I think this might be easier if you knew exactly what's the script here. Girl, why don't you tell him?"

"This is my reward," mum gasped. "My reward for being a good little pony last night."

"And what exactly is your reward?"

"To be fucked up the arse."

"You love that, don't you? Tell the boy exactly what you love about it."

"I love feeling Master's big fat prick shoved up my tight arsehole. I like it when he takes me hard, so hard, oh yes, like that, thank you, Master, thank you for your prick... your prick in my... please, Master, I want to feel you come, please come in my arse, please..."

In front of my eyes, as Mr Hall pounded into her, my mum reached a long shuddering climax and it wasn't long after that before she got her wish and he too came, grunting as he shoved himself in as deep as he could.

After a moment or two to get their breath back, Mr Hall withdrew and, as he did so, he reached for some tissues from a box on his desk and, having taken a couple, he passed them to me.

"Wipe up for me, will you?"

I realised that this apparent request was actually an order so, rather gingerly, I mopped up the excess lube where it oozed down the inside of mum's legs. She wiggled the fingers of the hand she had been using to diddle herself so I passed her a tissue which meant that I was spared wiping down her actual vagina.

"All done?" Mr Hall asked as he zipped up his fly.

"Yes, thank you, sir." mum replied as she got back to her feet and smoothed out her dress. "I'll just go and finish cleaning up."

"Thank you, girl. Lunch at one, OK?"

As mum curtseyed and left the room he turned to me. "About the barn. I'm expecting the wood and paint to be delivered around eleven. Here's the list," He searched around his desk and handed me a sheet of paper. "Can you ensure they haven't forgotten anything? Barkers are normally pretty reliable put it always pays to check."

And then I guess he saw the look on my face.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, boy, I really am not the monster that you appear to think I am. Everyone here is a fully consenting adult."

"But that's my mum."

"Yes, I know, and a very sexy young woman she is too. And, if she enjoys a bit of anal sex now and then, are you really such a prude as to stand in the way of her enjoyment? Judging by the way you're more than willing to have sex with my wife I'd say there was more than a whiff of hypocrisy here. You think about that while you're waiting for Barkers."

And, as I worked around the barn I was, indeed, preoccupied by what had just happened. I couldn't lose the image of Mr. Hall's well lubricated prick sliding in and out of my mother's backside. Nor could I forget her urging him to 'come in her arse'; mothers don't use that sort of language! But Mr Hall was right, she was quite evidently a willing participant and was there really that much difference between what they did and what Mrs. Hall did to me.

But mostly I was still having problems with getting my mind around the fact that my mother loved sex, let alone anal sex.

And Mr Hall wasn't the only one who seemed to want to push mum and me together. When I received the all but inevitable summons to the poolside that afternoon I found not only Mrs Hall but Sandra and the woman I only knew as 'Tubby', George's pony from the show.

"Ah, here he is! Twinkletoes!" Sandra exclaimed. "Come on, boy, get your kit off."

I glanced across at Mrs Hall who nodded so, on her instructions, I took off my tee shirt, shed my trainers and stepped out of my shorts. Sandra beckoned me closer and, as I knew I couldn't ask for approval for every one of Sandra's requests so I went and stood next to her sun lounger. With her left hand Sandra grabbed my chain and pulled me closer, with the fingers of her right hand she took my prick and played sweet music.

"Isn't he a splendid addition to our little stable? It makes such a pleasant change to have some fresh blood around the place. Don't you agree Mel?"

"Yeah, it's nice to see someone different although some of us have seen more of him than others."

"Well, you would have seen more if you hadn't spent the entire evening down on your knees."

"Please, Sandra!"

"Only joking. Don't get your knickers in a twist. Oops, I forgot, your 'Master' doesn't allow you to wear knickers, does he?"

Mel blushed furiously and even I could see that Sandra's barbs were hitting home.

"And, seeing as how your rightful place is down on your knees giving blow jobs," Sandra continued, "why don't you sort Twinkletoes out. Give him a quick gobble, a nice little reward for being so good yesterday."

"Seeing as how you're the one he was so good to maybe you should be the one giving the gobble."

"But, Mel dear, you're the expert."

"Oh, I'd never cede that title when there's a slut from Mere Park around. I mean, look at you. The poor lad has hardly been in the room thirty seconds and you're giving him a hand job!"

This time it was Sandra's time to seethe and, I'll admit, I looked at her in a different light. If Sandra really did come from Mere Park then she came from one of the biggest estates in town, the one with all the social issues. It would appear that this little trophy wife had a past she would rather forget.

"If you two have quite finished I have a better idea," Mrs. Hall cut across them both. "I agree with Sandra. He was a well behaved little pony last night and a blow job might be a suitable reward but, if you two are going to squabble over exactly who does it then that takes the fun out of things. Seeing as how you two can't play nice maybe we ought to draw lots. Agreed?"

"That sounds fair."

"OK by me."

"Hang on a second then...," she pulled out her phone from her bag and speed dialled a number. "Hi, it's me. Can you bring a pack of playing cards to the pool, please?"

A minute or so later my mother appeared and handed a pack of cards to Mrs Hall. She looked over to where I was standing, saw Sandra still playing with my prick and gave me a smile.

"Thank you. Perhaps you could cuff and blindfold the boy. And, Sandra, for god's sake leave him alone or he'll shoot his load before we're ready."

As Mrs Hall took the cards out of their box and shuffled them my mother came over to where I was standing and took from me the cuffs and blindfold. As I stood there she fastened my hands behind my back and fitted the blindfold.

"Right, everybody, just to make sure everyone understands, we're cutting the pack to see who gives the boy a blow job. Aces high, bridge order, highest card wins, or should that be loses. Oh, and shh! I don't want the boy knowing which one of us it is. Don't go away, Leslie, you get a card as well."

There was a certain amount of hushed giggling as, presumably, they cut and compared cards. Finding out who it was that had won just increased the giggling and, shortly after, I sensed someone kneeling down in front of me, fingers held my prick and then I felt a tongue playing with my glans.

Of course I couldn't help but speculate on just who it was who had my prick in her mouth but her obvious expertise was working wonders and, even if it were my mum, nature was going to take its course. It had been quite a while since the last time Mrs Hall had allowed me to come and Sandra had wound me up like a clock spring. I'd have had to have been made of stone not to respond. In short, she had barely got started before I could feel the spunk boiling in my balls, feel the pressure rising, rising until I could no longer contain it and, time and time again, I spurted everything I'd got deep into her mouth. I even got a smattering of ironic applause.

Whilst the urgency of the fellatio died back and my erection subsided, whomever it was seemed keen to taste, and swallow, every drop and I was completely flaccid when, finally, she stopped. But it was only when she had completely finished and got back to her feet that the blindfold was removed. I stood there blinking, my wrists still secured, looking at the four women and wondering which one of them had done the deed.

"Marks out of ten?" Mrs Hall asked.

"I wouldn't like to say, Miss."

"Oh, don't be coy."

"It's just that... that's the first blow job I've ever had so I've nothing to compare it to."

"Your first blow job, how sweet! Well, we've finished with you now. Off you trot. Leslie, see him out, will you?"

My mother picked up my discarded clothes and shepherded me to the door. Once outside she kissed me on the cheek and unfastened my wrists.

"Mum!"

"What? Can't I kiss my boy on the cheek?"

"Depends where else you've been kissing me. Was that you back in there? Was it you who gave me the blow job?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell so, maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. Anyway, does it really make that much difference? Think of it as having been done by all four of us. Now, off you go. I've got things to do in the kitchen.

And that was how it continued for the next few days. It wasn't that Mr and Mrs Hall were blatantly trying to force us together; it was more that they saw no reason to hide who did what to whom. It became quite normal for me to see mum being rogered by Mr Hall or for her to be around while Mrs Hall was playing her games with me. Gradually it became easier to accept that she was a woman who liked sex, and kinky sex at that, and, within our little circle, saw no reason to hide it. Similarly I was getting used to the idea of my mother knowing that I too enjoyed things kinky. I no longer had to hide from her when I was naked from the waist down or wearing the butt plug or simply had red stripes across my arse from a caning.

It was Mrs Hall who pushed things to the next level and, I have to acknowledge, she was pretty crafty in the way that she did it. It was mid-afternoon on a scorching hot day and I was working naked from the waist down when I received a text ordering me not to the poolside but to the stables. Even as I approached I could hear the sounds of something pretty extreme and, before I had even entered the stables, Mrs Hall came out towards me.

"She's in there," she said. "Look after her, will you?"

I went into the stables and, there, stark naked and with her wrists held high over her head by a chain hung over one of the beams, was my mother. She was gagged which cut down a lot of her cries and a spreader bar between her ankles restricted her movements but, even so, she was obviously in some distress and it took a moment or two to work out why. The first thing I noticed was that her breasts and groin were coved in a bright red rash. Indeed, I was so fixated on this that it was only when she motioned with her head towards the table standing next to her that I saw the bunch of stinging nettles and the thick, industrial gloves. The rash was actually nettle rash. No wonder she was so disturbed.

At first I looked to let her down but the chains holding her wrists were padlocked to her cuffs and I didn't have the key. It was the same story when I looked at the spreader bar. I wasn't sure there was anything much I could do and, at first, I just stood there feeling helpless. Meanwhile mum was all but screaming and kept looking towards the table so I looked again and saw, half hidden by the nettles, a large tube of antihistamine cream. At last the penny dropped. I used the gloves to push the nettles away, took the tube, squeezed a large dollop of cream out onto my hand and smoothed it over the rash on my mother's breasts.

Mum's reaction was a mixture of relief and exasperation. Through the gag she was trying to tell me something which came out as 'ot y ests, y unt' and, after a while, I realised that what she was saying was 'not my breasts, my cunt. If her breasts were sore then how much more so the sensitive flesh of her groin. I squeezed out some more cream from the tube and set to work on her inner thighs and lower belly.

It was like flicking a switch. As soon as my hand touched her pubic mound she started to rub herself against it. What started as my smoothing cream on her groin soon turned into her humping my hand. While her gag meant I couldn't decipher what she was saying her body language spoke volumes. She needed to come and she needed to come hard. If, at any point, I lessened the pressure of my hand she would thrust her hips towards me in a desperate attempt to stay with it. It would have been cruel beyond words to have stopped, rather I responded by pushing back until I was holding her so hard that my fingers were forced deep inside her and I was all but lifting her off the ground.

This was exactly what she wanted and, as she rode my hand so she rubbed her breasts against my chest. It was clear my job was to be there for her, to be the source of friction for the orgasm she so urgently needed.

When she finally came it was as if a storm had broken within her. This was far from the first time I had seen my mother reach orgasm but this had to be the most intense, the most dramatic and the most devastating I had witnessed. What is more, previously I had been merely a spectator; this time I was an active participant. It was my fingers deep inside her as wave after wave washed through her body and it was the palm of my hand that she ground her clitoris against.

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