Sonia has her possessions thoroughly washed, clothing and her pet.
Sonia rested in bed, gently dozing off with a beatific expression. Preston left the room in slow, careful steps as not to alert and disturb her. He’d found her there as he got back from a late night of working. Later than usual, which neither Preston nor Sonia liked, but it couldn’t be helped sometimes. He was just glad to be home, minus some of the chores he had to do.
At the start of every other weekend, it was always time to do laundry, which counted as “excitement on a Friday night” for a lot of his adult life. Things got exponentially exciting once Sonia walked into his life, but laundry was still an inevitability. There were benefits to doing one’s own laundry though. Besides self-sufficiency, before Preston gathered up some of his strewn-about clothes in the bedroom, he’d noticed Sonia’s had left hers in the living room, near the basked he’d set aside to get the laundry ready.
She told him she was used to taking her clothes to the laundromat, but was surprised that he was all right with washing hers as well, assuring her that they’d be treated delicately. He was pleasantly surprised to see what of hers he was going to wash – almost the exact ensemble she’d worn when she first took him. The same, or similar blouse, skirt, stockings, and shoes nearby.
Using the laundry room in his building, which did have much better machines than most apartments, he washed his larger load of clothes, and put them in the dryer for a full cycle. Tending to Sonia’s clothes, he readied the washing cycle, and raised up her blouse to see if there were any specific stains. The longer he looked at it though, the more he unconsciously saw Sonia’s body still filling that shirt, at a time later than her arrival into his life, where she wore that shirt, at first just showing off her lovely cleavage. He remembered when he found himself staring as she was looking at something on TV. It never occurred to him after a while that staring was bad, he only got excited when she started unbuttoning the blouse. For some reason, that day she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her open shirt and bare, gorgeous breasts were beholden to him. He sat still as she came to him on the couch, reclined next to him, and slipped her hand behind his neck to bring his head and mouth to her nipples. They were as hard as he was, and it was easy to lead him into trance with whispered suggestions of increased bliss and mindlessness the more he suckled. He smiled deeply from that memory.
He came back to himself only a little, noting no spots on the blouse, so he checked the skirt as well. Laying the skirt on top of another unused machine, he checked the skirt by smoothing the fabric out with his hands. The last time he’d touched her skirt, it was his face laying against it, like the first night she’d spent installing her sensual control over him at his apartment. Laying his head in her lap, feeling the skirt’s material and Sonia’s caressing fingertips equaled only to the pleasure of obey the command she gave to rest his head there. He sighed deeply and opened his eyes, returning to the laundry room, now past the beginnings of a light trance.
Working as if ordered to, Preston passively took care of all the laundry there, folding his dried clothes, letting hers be washed and then dried on the gentlest setting possible for just a few minutes. Like a bout of inspired self-hypnosis, he could imagine Sonia in the room with him, happy to watch her will being done. He gently nodded to a neighbor as he left, unaware of the luck of having the clothing basket hide his erection.
He returned to his apartment and hung Sonia’s clothes in the bathroom to be hung and air dried the rest of the time. For making sure the new dryers didn’t really shrink clothing, he didn’t want to test his mistress’ clothes on that. While they air-dried, he retrieved her hose and panties. The thought of serving Sonia by hand-washing her very personal garb that she allowed him to worship made him very hard; the blood that was left in his higher head gave him just enough oxygen to focus on washing.
The sink was filled with warm water and a bit of detergent, and he began with her hose. Soap in-hand, he scrubbed gently at the full length of each leg, slowly breathing as he reminisced the dream come true of worshiping a beautiful woman’s stockinged feet, confessing to her how much he loved it, how much his love surprised him, and how she embodied that love with her teasing, caressing, trancing motions, and allowing him to treat them like kissable, jewels. Despite how thin they were in his hands, it was still like she filled them, and he massaged what was in his imagination.
Working his way up to the section of the hips, he gently scrubbed the front of them, the silky barrier to her pussy, that he’d licked and licked, at least one of them believing he’d eventually breach it. She remembered the first time she let him lick for so long before surprising him by asking him to help her out of her stockings, so there was nothing but the black silk panties. The panties next to the sink, he lifted them to his face and inhaled a full breath in his lungs. He gasped into them, realizing the very familiar scent of her arousal. She’d recently been wet tonight, and her stained secretions left on the undergarments made him lose his grip enough to watch them fall into the wash. He would’ve tried to retrieve them to bring them back to his nose, but a part of him from some unknown depth reminded him she wanted them washed, so his mind went to the first night me selflessly pleasured her womanhood. He couldn’t even remember whether he offered or she commanded, neither would surprise him anymore, it all just blurred into obeying Sonia. He washed the remainder of the hose and the center of the panties, his minds eye filled with the sight of her folds he licked at, the slick moisture that let him know he was a good boy, and the pleasure button he relentlessly went at till she made him stop. He licked air while cleansing her apparel, his brain as washed as their clothes.
After hanging them up, Preston stumbled out to the living room to lay on the couch. His body felt too good, easily ready for release, but he knew Sonia would’ve preferred to have a say in it, so he rested there and rode the heat until it dissipated along with his consciousness.
Preston sometime later, unaware of how long he’d slept, but happy to still feel a buzz of pleasure, instead of being overwhelmed by it. Checking in the bathroom, several of Sonia’s clothes were drying quickly; he took what he could to the bedroom for ironing later. She was still out, and he quietly opened drawers, put some clothing away, and began to get ready to for sleep; his spirit wanted to go the extra mile and iron them immediately, but his flesh was tired enough that he was best to save pleasing her further later. He set her undergarments nearby, and picked up her shoes to place in the closet, giving them a small kiss before turning to bed, to see Sonia propped up on one shoulder, looking at him with consideration. He looked like a child getting caught at something they weren’t supposed to be doing, ironically having done what needed to be.
“You’ve been a good boy for me tonight, haven’t you?”
He could only nod. Sonia reached over to see her pantyhose and panties warm, folded, smelling of soap. She cruxed a finger, making him come forward. She grabbed his hand and faintly smelled the same faded soapy scent.
“Yes, you have.”
His beaming smile made her open the covers to his bed, now her bed, and their bed tonight. A strap on her camisole was already loose, and she lowered it altogether, giving him a breast to look at.
“Are you my breast slave tonight?”
“Yes Mistress Sonia.”
She purred as he entered the bed and rested his head at her breasts, sucking peacefully at it, letting the heat build between them, knowing soon their sheets would have to be thoroughly washed too.