Rita’s Scheme

The day was progressing from mid to late afternoon, and what had occasionally been a tad too hot was promising to become comfortable, gentle warmth. As was common for this time of year, late afternoon and early evening brought a soft breeze, heralding a calm, elegant night. Out here, far from the center of town, the night would be peaceful and serene, with the silence borne of a very respectable distance to the next closest habitation. The setting for the school had been idyllic during its heyday, and the waning years of its use as a school had not diminished the grandeur of its isolation and privacy. It continued to be a somewhat imposing structure; it’s exterior lacking only cosmetic upkeep for the most part.

The slaves had done a respectable amount of work in weeding and cleaning up the lawn and flowerbeds all around the outside of their home. It had been pleasant enough work, even if slightly boring. The boredom was nicely relieved by the presence of the others with the steady flow of inconsequential conversation that had lifted all their spirits. And if one grew more contemplative for a while, she could allow her direction of work to diverge from that of the others and soon enough find herself sufficiently removed that the soft murmur of conversations no longer intruded. None of the slaves had worked particularly hard, but they had worked continuously, and the effort was clearly paying off and showing results.

Veronica was already calculating the amount of grass seed, fertilizer and hay she would need to buy for the reseeding effort required to fill in the numerous, and expanding, bare spots being created by the aggressive weeding taking place. She was well into planning not just the next phase of the lawn restoration, but she was also beginning to think about the next two phases of replanting and pruning beyond that. In that context, she was visualizing plant heights; colors during the changing seasons, and the general ‘look’ appropriate for grounds of this stature. The ‘look’ included tree pruning or complete removal, new tree plantings, introduction of different tree species and possibly a gazebo in a shaded nook, created by new tree plantings. She was dreaming a magnificent dream. She had no doubt that she would be given a free hand in designing and implementing her vision. Beyond the immediate lawn and tree repair, she was thinking about growth rates years and decades into the future, planning the evolution of this property under her guidance and control without significant budget constraints. She was in heaven.

Rita stood, pressed her palm against her kidney and arched her back, stretching slightly sore, cramped muscles. She gazed over the lawn, looking toward the main building. She didn’t see the unkempt lawn, or the faded and cracking paint on that building, instead, she saw beautifully maintained grounds and a magnificent, stately mansion. Her mind had taken her back to those wonderful days when these grounds and the school building were both magnificent, and life was so sweet it couldn’t get any better.

The sound of nearby laughter brought her mind back to the present, complete with peeling paint and weeds. Over the past few years the grounds had received less than adequate attention and the neglect showed. By necessity, both the house and the school had been minimally maintained as funds dwindled, but maintaining the shrubs had been moved into the ‘luxury’ category. The grass had been mowed, but that was about all that was done to the lawn. Luxuries had been pushed off in anticipation of other, better, times in a future that never arrived.

She looked around and realized it would take another day, if not two to completely rid the front of the house of all visible weeds. And that didn’t include the school building or the other structures. They had a big job ahead of them, to bring the grounds up to the level of excellence that Craig expected and Veronica wanted. She wasn’t distressed by that realization, because it had been a pleasant enough day and the ones to follow doing this project would be no less so with all the slaves together, chatting and joking amongst themselves while enjoying the warm sun.

While the day might have been enjoyable, she harbored a minor fear that Craig would be unreasonable about her broken fingernails. Breaking fingernails was inevitable while doing this kind of work, and she, like all the other slaves, had spent hours on her nails, maintaining them long and carefully manicured because he liked long, carefully manicured nails on his slaves. She mentally shrugged off her concerns, knowing that a session with the glue-on nails would repair the damage. Despite the broken nails she had actually enjoyed herself and was looking forward to continuing the project. But she also realized there was no benefit to holding the pee inside herself any longer. The weeds would have to wait; she had to go.

As she walked past a small group of slaves, one of the other women, Gina, looked up at her but didn’t say anything. Rita muttered, “I gotta pee,” to none of them in particular, and continued walking. Gina went back to work, dismissing Rita from her thoughts.

She entered the house through the rear door, well away from the bedroom in which Craig was enjoying KD’s services. She detoured around to look into Craig’s office before continuing, thinking to offer to bring him a cold drink or something, only to find it empty. Unconcerned, she went into the bathroom, which was her intended destination all along anyway. She no sooner got onto the bowl when she heard the phone ring. She tried to hurry, realizing even as she did, that she would never be able to get to it in time. It rang a second time, but didn’t ring a third time. She assumed that someone else had managed to grab it, because Craig hated to have the phone unanswered when there was a house full of slaves who were perfectly capable of doing that. All the slaves were very aware of the need to get the phone before the answering machine got it on the fourth ring. If there were any slaves in the house and the answering machine got the call first, whoever was in the house at the time got a whipping. The answering machine didn’t mind getting a whipping, but slaves did.

KD was kissing Craig’s chest, more to keep him simmering than to arouse him. She was lying on her side, leaning against his body, and pressing herself tightly against him. She wanted to go back to his cock and resume sucking it, but she knew it was too soon, and doing so would only frustrate both of them at the same time. I’ll give him another few minutes, then he’ll be recovered enough that I can try to raise him again. That’s when the phone rang.