The Revenge of Ms Mercedes' Cleaner
Woah hey, remember when I used to write porn stories? Me neither. But I finally got around to writing one. If you've read Dinner Date, you might find a resemblance between Mercedes and Gregory. This story was actually started long before Dinner Date, and I'm glad to finally nail a stake through the heart of this long-ass story. The sex scene was actually supposed to go on longer, but I got bored writing it. The way I see it, if I was getting bored of writing it, you'd get bored of reading it. If there's sufficient interest, I'll see about coming up with the Extra Length edition.
My first time writing strictly F/F, and I don't think I did a terrible job. I won't pretend I got into the female psyche in any meaningful sense, but at least Kim the Squirrel is a fun character. I like her very much, but I dunno what else I'd do with her. Still, who'd want the surprise spoiled anyway?
Please Comment; it makes my day!
The Revenge of Ms Mercedes' Cleaner
I've been working for Ms Mercedes for around six months, and for around five months she was a stone-cold bitch. I've never met a lioness like her. Fussy, perfectionist, obsessed with every little detail, your stereotypical ice queen. I'm sure you you know the type.
Imagine a lawyer, and make it a lioness. Make her tall and leggy, lean and trim, with short blonde hair. Give her small boobs and a flat ass and fold her into an immaculately pressed designer suit. Give her a pretty smile and perfect hair and sharpened claws that hadn't seen a day's real work since she was born. Give her a faint air of superiority behind square framed glasses and you're probably close.
We couldn't be more different. I'm average height for a squirrel; about five feet tall. I'm busty and curvy (and I do mean curvy, not chubby with excuses). I have a short temper and a big mouth when I get ticked off. My hair goes down to my ass and my tail goes up to my ears. I've been working hard since my dad kicked me out at fourteen. I dress to work, not to impress. She spent more on one of those suits than I earned in a month. I sure as hell didn't have Daddy to pay for my education. I'm having to work like a slave to pay for my own, and I'm still going to be in debt up to my tits until I'm thirty. I won't bullshit, I was a little bit jealous of her. Who could blame me?
However, I'm sidetracking myself.
I may clean houses for a living, but I'm not stupid. I know how to clean a mirror. I know how to lay a fucking bed. I sure as hell didn't need some anal retentive, stuck up, prissy pussy standing over me and criticising me when I'm working. She'd actually stand there saying shit like "You missed a spot" and "Mmm...I'd give that mirror another wipe over, I think I see a streak". Can you imagine that?
The notes were the worst. Oh God, the notes. Don't get me started on the notes. They used to piss me off so much. I'd be cleaning and she'd leave little notes for me to find. Neat handwriting of course, and cute little numbers in the bottom right corner with "4 of 8" or whatever in them. Each note was a little nitpicking correction. It wouldn't be so bad if I weren't doing my job. That was never the problem. She gave me a long list of what she wanted doing and I stuck to it religiously. The problem was that I could never do anything quite how she wanted it, and those fucking notes were her way of correcting me discretely.
I wanted to cram those notes right up her ass! No wonder her fucking husband divorced her. I'd have wrung her neck before I got her up the aisle. I used to wonder what she was like in bed. I'd read a note and think to myself, "I bet licking her pussy would be like tongue-fucking a pencil sharpener," and giggle about it while I smooshed up her notes and tossed them in the trash.
I'm sure you're wondering why I kept working there. To be blunt, I needed the money. Ms Mercedes got through cleaners like I got through wash cloths, and word had gotten around about her. She demanded a lot and didn't mind paying for it. Working for her, I could afford to move to a nicer part of town and still pay for my car. I just gritted and teeth and got to work and tried not to let her get to me too much, but it was real hard keeping my paws off her.
With my temper and her attitude, I'm amazed we lasted as long as we did before we finally had a fight. Ms Mercedes offered me a little overtime: she was organising a charity event, and was planning a small get togther for the major fund-raisers and donors to thank them. My job was to do the cooking. She took charge of preparing the room once I finished cleaning it, making her little corrections herself. At least I was spared the fucking notes again. Instead, I got busy in the kitchen. She wanted the works, three courses and plenty of dessert.
I love cooking, and I don't get the chance to really go nuts very often. With Ms Mercedes paying the bill, I could try some of the fancier, trickier recipes. I slaved in there for nearly four hours solid. I bet she'd never even used most of the equipment in that kitchen, but I sure as fuck gave it a workout. When I was done, I laid everything out on a fold-out table for her inspection. It was a waste of my time, but she was paying for it and I knew her well enough by now to know that she'd wanna check it out, and sure enough she did.
I pretty sure it was the first time I'd seen her out of a suit. She seemed slightly more mortal in a vest and shorts. I was wearing my ugly grey, County Cleaning issue blouse and black pants, and I was filthy, up to my elbows in flour and pastry. She was fresh out of the shower. I could still smell the soap on her slightly damp fur, a slight hint of flowers that I could barely pick out from under the cooking smells. I waited at the far end of the table, wanting her out of the way so that I could clean up and get home.
She sauntered over slowly, taking her time and scrutinising every dish. She reminded me of a wine taster, checking everything from the colour to the smell, doing damn near everything but tasting it. She'd lean over and sniff delicately, perhaps pick up a napkin and use it to turn over a piece of meat or a vegetable, looking for signs of browning or limpness.
Having to watch the ungrateful bitch scrutinise everything I'd done was really rubbing me up the wrong way. Normally, she at least had the good grace to wait until I left the room before she pulled this crap. I seethed quietly to myself as she poked and prodded at my hard work, trying not to swear as she moved a celery stick a few millimetres to the right to make them even in height. How fucking dare she?
She finally finished and straightened up, her inspection complete. I kept my paws behind my back and gave her a shit-eating grin. My skin felt too tight, and I wasn't getting any cheerier. She needed to hurry the hell up and let me go home before she said something I'd regret.
"Very good work, Kim. You've really outdone yourself."
Was this praise? Was Ms Mercedes, Bitch Queen Pencilneck, actually giving praise to the likes of me? For a moment, I actually got my hopes up. How pathetic was that? That was the first compliment she'd given to anything I'd done in five months work, and I was so starved of good attention I was eating out of her hand. Trust her to spoil it.
"There's just a few little things I need you to correct," she added.
"Sorry, what?" I asked. Behind my back, I made fists. In my imagination, I committed murder.
"Well, I need everything to be absolutely perfect, you see. This isn't quite there."
"What do you suggest?" I asked, my voice colder than the Arctic.
"Well Kim, I don't want to pick you up on every little thing, so I'll just go over the top ten, as it were"
She chose that moment to smile. That perfect, reassuring, this-is-for-your-own-good smile. Did she think that was taking the sting out of it? Did she think I was some dumb-fuck, dried up old judge with his brain in his pants? I wanted to claw it off her face right then. My paws moved from behind my back to the side. The dam was cracking, the mask slipping. I couldn't even manage my shit-eating grin any more. The best I could manage was neutral, and even that was a strain.
"Like what?"
"Well, could you perhaps present the cherry tomatoes in a more appealing way? They're a little misaligned. This cheese isn't cut straight, look. You can see the cubes don't stack right. This garlic dip seems a little runny, too...make it thicker, please. Also..."
I didn't let her finish. I was pissed. There was nothing fucking wrong with anything I'd made for her party, and the greedy fucks she'd invited probably wouldn't notice even if there were. I was a damn good cleaner, and I was a fucking awesome chef.
"Fuck off, you maniacal bitch!" I screamed, venting five months of frustration.
God, that felt good. I'd longed to say it for months. I didn't care that my ass was so fired. I didn't even think about how I was gonna have to find a new job without a decent reference. Just seeing that perfect fucking smile wiped off the lioness' face was worth it.
Mercedes flinched as though I'd smacked her and took a step backwards, looking downright shocked. I bet the stuck up kitty hadn't heard anything like THAT from a fucking cleaner before. Showing fear? Bad move, it just made me more aggressive. I noticed her backing up and cut her off, herding her into a corner of the kitchen where two of the worktops joined together in an L shape. She wasn't going anywhere. I'd waited too fucking long to get this off my chest.
"God dammit, you have to pick on every little thing. Why don't you get the fucking stick out of your ass and let me fucking work! Fuck you, fuck those fucking notes of yours and fuck this fucking job! I quit!"
I handed in my resignation with a good, hard slap. My right paw caught her right on the cheek and made my palm sting. She yelped in astonishment, her own paw rising to cover the spot as she stared at me, shock and outrage written large all over her stuck-up face. I was going too far, I knew. She wasn't just gonna fire me, she was gonna call the cops on me. I was too pissed to care, or even think about it. Fuck it, let 'em come. I turned on my heel and ripped off my apron, tossing it at her feet as I stamped towards the door.
"How fucking dare you!"
Turned out Ms Mercedes wasn't your typical passive-aggressive, anal compulsive bitch. I thought she'd cry now and file suit later. I'd just stepped into the hall when I felt her shoulder ram my tail into my back, her arms coming around my upper thighs. I never even heard her coming. She wasn't heavy, but she had momentum and surprise on her side and I went down hard, scraping fur off my knees and grazing my palms as I hit the deck.
"It's on now, bitch!" I yelled, half turning on the floor underneath her and trying to elbow her in the face. I may have slapped like a girl back in the kitchen, but I don't fuck around when I fight. She wanted a piece of me? I was gonna shove her face up her ass!
She was trying to pin me down beneath her, but she wasn't heavy enough. I put my paws under my shoulders and straightened my arms like I was doing a push-up, then rolled so that she was sitting over my belly and grabbed for the back of her neck. She reared up and pulled her head from my grasp, but got a good, hard scratch across the cheek for the trouble.
"Why don't you write a fucking note about it, you fucking hag!"
She was slapping at my face, but I barely felt it. She didn't know how to fight worth a damn, as strong as she was. I sat upright and grabbed her shoulders, shoving her hard. She slid off my lap with a squawk, trying to stand up or get her balance and kicking her legs like a Russian Dancer before falling flat on her ass. I got onto my knees and pounced, forcing her down onto her back. Her claws weren't just pretty, they were sharp. I felt them slam into my waist and couldn't help crying out a little. I didn't let up on her, though. I caught hold of her vest and wrapped the neck of it around my fist, ready to knock her teeth out. She saved herself from claiming on the company dental plan by reaching up and grabbing hold of my hairnet. She hauled me down roughly, her jaws opening to bite. I flinched as her face filled my vision and tried to brace against her chest and keep her back, but I couldn't stop her.
Her muzzle clamped down across mine, her nose nudging beside mine. I felt her breath against my lips, and her claw tips raking my scalp, and her chest rising and falling. Was she going to bite my lips off or something? I'd kill her if she did. I didn't feel her teeth, or her struggles, or new pain. I felt her kiss, and it shocked me right out of Kill Mode.
Her tongue shoved past my teeth, her paw pressing my face to hers. I felt the roughly textured muscle slide against my own tongue, stroking across and then up as though inviting it to dance. It was a rough kiss, hot and frantic. I was too stunned to resist or try and pull away, but she kept me in place regardless. Her clawtips gouged holes in the cheap nylon hairnet, the bobby pins keeping it in place popping free like shell casings. I felt my ponytail burst loose and slide out until it hit the floor.
I didn't really decide to kiss her back. Not a conscious decision by any means. It just sorta happened that way, without me realising I was doing it. I know that sounds like bullshit, but I swear it's true. While my head was trying to figure out what the hell just happened, my body just said "fuck it" and didn't bother waiting for instructions. Some things don't need thinking about, and kissing her back came as naturally as breathing.
My tongue slid slowly across her own and then pushed it back into her muzzle. Her growly, gravelly purr dropped an octave while she sucked on it. She seemed to like my tongue stud. Her tongue was all over mine as they locked together, but her tip kept coming on back to rub it for luck. She was a fucking good kisser; here was me thinking she wouldn't even know how.
I moved my paw under her head and got a good pawful of her hair; all she did was kiss me a little harder, our lips smacking softly as the seal broke, shifted and reapplied. In return, she moved her grip to my blouse. My uniform was made of pretty hard-wearing material, but her claws were sharp and expensively maintained. The sharp points bit into the fabric, and I could both hear and feel it tearing as she dragged her fingertips downwards, towards my bust. I tugged her hair as I pulled away from the kiss.
I told her, "Hey! I have to pay for my own uniform, bitch!"
She laughed. "So sue me. I can afford it."
I shoved my tongue down her throat instead. Uniform, schmuniform. Like the clever girl she was, she kept right on doing what she was doing, and I was happy to let her. Once she'd cut down far enough I wiggled my arms out of the short sleeves, swearing and cussing up a storm until she helped me out.
I sat upright over her belly and flipped my ponytail back over my shoulders. "Don't move," I ordered. "Mmm...alright, but I can't wait to see what you look like under that." I reached behind my back and to unfasten my bra, which was more Walmart than Victoria's Secret. She gazed up at me like she wanted to slip a dollar in my panties, so I took my time and gave her her money's worth.
"I'm going to fuck your brains out, you stuck up bitch." I told her, toggling the button with one paw and sliding the other underneath her vest. The fur on her belly was so soft it was like petting a kitten.
"Oooh, you think you can handle me?" she trilled, her stomach muscles clenching. Goddamn, but she had a perfect four-pack under all that smooth fur.
"I know it. I'm gonna have you screamin' your skinny ass off."
"Oh God, yes. Be gentle, baby." she simpered, while her intense, yellow eyes begged the other way.
Where the hell did a pen pusher like her get "fuck me" eyes like that? I wouldn't have believed it before I'd seen them. They followed my paw as I stroked over my tits. With the thickness of the padding and all, it didn't do all that much for me, but she seemed to enjoy the view regardless. While she was distracted, I crept my fingers up beneath her vest until I touched the bottom rib. I scratched down hard over her belly, scraping deep into the fur and pushing on the muscles. There was no danger of me cutting her, but she sure as hell felt them.
She squealed and bucked up beneath me, digging her shoulders and butt into the floor, her eyes closed. I raked over her tummy a few times, teasing her every time I did. That made her groan and hump up beneath me like a pet dog that hadn't been fixed. I'd fantasised about telling Ms Mercedes what a bitch she was, but they'd never worked out like this in my head.
"You like that, huh? You act like you're so special, but you moan just like a slut."
"Hey, you're hurting me!" she grunted, smiling despite the protest.
"You don't want gentle and you ain't getting it. You want it rough. Beg me for it."
"Please...I need you so bad...I'll do anything...give it to me. Make me your slut."
"You want squirrel tongue in your pussy, bitch? You wanna tongue-fuck?"
"YES!"
"Then say it! Get it on record!"
I figured she'd appreciate the reference.
"I want you to eat my cunt!"
I told her I would, but first she'd have to earn it. She wriggled around under my butt, and I didn't even need the damp spot she was rubbing onto my pants to know she was loving it. I'd never heard her cuss before then, not even a little one like "damn" or "crap". Hearing her saying shit like that was driving ME crazy. I felt cramped in my clothes, like the wounded cloth was alive and smothering me like a snake. I slid off of her and yanked the rest of the blouse off, tossing it aside and let it rest in an untidy pile against the door.
I stood up. Mercedes moved to do the same, but I liked her just fine where she was and forced her back down onto her knees. She stroked my legs, waiting until I unfastened my pants before pulling them down to my knees. Her strong fingers sank into my thighs a little as she rubbed them, teasing the bare fur. Her claws were digging in a little, but what the hell. A little pain never hurt nobody.
"Soft," Mercedes purred, rubbing her cheek against my upper thigh.
"Yeah. Do the panties too..."
She reached up again and put her paws upon my hips. I gyrated a little, grinding up towards her and tensing my butt a little. Instead of using her paws, she moved her muzzle towards my pussy, her eyes never leaving mine. She smiled and gave me a glimpse of fang as she lightly nibbled me through the soft, white cotton of my panties. Her breath stroked across my crotch as she panted over me, moving her muzzle a little higher. Her perfect, movie star teeth hooked the waistband of my panties and sandwiched the fabric against her bottom lip.
She tugged back and down a few inches, drawing the material away from the front of my pussy. She finally broke eye contact and lowered her muzzle further, pressing it between my thighs. I felt the base of my tail slip free of the notch, the panties bunching under my butt. She slid them down as far as my knees before letting go, licking her lips where the cloth had soaked up her saliva, making them glisten once again.
"Well, aren't you the talented little bitch?" I grinned, "It's always the quiet ones..."
Her hair was short, but there was more than enough to get a good pawful, and I did. I slapped my palm on the back of her skull and made a fist, bunching the silky smooth hair into a ball. She groaned a little as I pulled her muzzle back upwards, her muzzle sliding up between my thighs until I felt her lips in the area I wanted. She sniffled a little and showered my pussy with hot, tender little kisses that left tingles of excitement shimmering on the spots where they touched. I moaned softly and gave her head a little shove, so that her nose bumped against my clit.
She slithered her tongue upwards slowly, letting the tip graze just between my pussy lips. I pushed my pelvis forward as she tasted me, wanting more and more of the heavenly contact. It had been too long since I'd felt someone else down there. When something feels that good, any time at all is too long. The teasing little bitch had me standing on tip toes, all the nerves around the opening of my pussy on fire, all the rest screaming for attention.
"Eat it, don't just tickle it!" I croaked, rocking back on my heels.
Mercedes grabbed my hips roughly and steered me around so that I was leaning against the wall. My tail swept some stuff off a shelf as I balanced myself, one leg hooked over her shoulder, the other bent to take a little stress from the knee. She slammed her tongue into my pussy with a loud, squishy slurp and a nice, loud moan from yours truly.
I don't know where she learned to eat pussy, but they taught her well. Even a lawyer was a college girl once, I guess. At first her tongue felt a little weird, but I got used to it real fast. Her tongue was never still, her lips smacking against mine. She was moaning too, though it was tricky to tell what she was saying. I was pushing her hard against my pussy, forcing her to snatch breath when she could.
"Yeah! Yeah, that's it, slut. Worship my cunt!"
"Mmmph."
"Oooh! Yeah, right there, baby. Oh God..."
Her paw came up between my thighs, cupping my taint. Her thumb slipped into my pussy along with her tongue, a firm bulge sitting pretty at the bottom of my slit. A new note to the symphony of pleasure she was conducting, her tongue waving around like a baton.
I was panting and purring myself, miniature orgasms pulsing though me. Whenever I did, she'd lick up the extra juices and slurp around the stiff little nub of my clit, her eyes blazing with passion I thought was as foreign to her as hard work. All the frustration and anger of the previous months was welling up inside me like before, all that rage sizzling away and being put to much better use. It was the difference between a fire in a steam engine and a fire in a coal mine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck and shit, shit, shit. So much for all the education the kitty eating my cunt was paying for. All my vocabulary boiled down to obscene chanting, the ticking of the engine of my pleasure. I swore with every breath I snarled out, my eyes rolled up and shut tight. I dug my claws into her shoulders as she redoubled her efforts to get me off.
When I finally came, I felt like she'd zapped me with a taser. A massive blast of pleasure and a violent shudder; my pussy and guts clenching down hard. I mashed Mercedes' tongue into my pussy, not letting her move an inch until I got my head back from whatever plane of heaven she'd knocked it to.
The lioness was already lapping at my slit again, but much more slowly. The boss wasn't supposed to clean up after the cleaning lady, but shit. It was pretty obvious who was the boss right then and there. I let her have her fun for a few moments, then pulled her away. I made sure not to show that the only thing keeping my shaking legs from giving out on me was the wall she'd propped me against.
I felt like a million bucks. I didn't need the wall to hold me up, I needed it to stop me flying right out the door and getting sucked into a jet engine! Our eyes met again. She was smiling just a little bit in a very feline way, looking more than a little smug. I figured I could let that slide. Mercedes had definitely earned more than that.
"Get on all fours and get those panties down. I know you soaked them already." I ordered, and she snapped right to it. She made room and swung one of her long, pretty legs over, crouched down like she was under starter's orders. One finger hooked the crotch of her panties and tugged them down a little while I got myself behind her. I didn't plan on wasting a second; we didn't have all night to play with.
I put one paw on her ass and squeezed, digging the claws in while I bit her right on the butt. She groaned, her tail bopping me in the face as it swung down and curled over. I slapped her paw and pulled her panties the rest of the way myself. Above my muzzle, I could see more juices beading on her cunt, the lips parted invitingly. While I watched, she held herself open, allowing one slender finger inside with a faintly whispered note of slickness I only heard 'cause I was holding my breath.
"Mmm...wait, there's something wrong here...", I said, kissing my way up her thigh.
She looked at me upside down over her cleavage, a trick that wouldn't have worked if she'd tried with a rack like mine. Her ears flagged down with concern.
"What?"
"I can't find the stick," I told her, giving her a kiss right on the back door that made her squirm.
Her expression shifted to confusion. Perhaps it was the wrong time for humour, but I explained anyway.
"Y'know, the big old stick you keep rammed up your ass all the time. Were you faking all this time, you sneaky bitch?"
She cracked a smile, which was more than I deserved.
"Maybe you're just not looking hard enough? I'm sure I mentioned that tendency of yours in one of my notes."
"Oh, don't think you're anywhere near done paying for those," I told her, planting my lips right on her ass and slowly circling her rosebud with the tip of my tongue. Cleanliness was a pretty safe bet with someone as borderline OCD as Mercedes, and I was right. I licked in tiny circles over her rear, enjoying the way the tight little ring of muscle fluttered and flinched whenever I touched it.
She gasped and arched her back, going crazy at the other end. I don't know if it was the first time someone had done it to her or if it had just been a while. I just lit the fuse and enjoyed the fireworks. I didn't know if she was watching the time, but I was. I knew I didn't have time for teasing, or for romance even if I were in the mood for it.
I put both arms around her and stroked her pussy from the front, hooking two fingers inside. While I strummed her clit with my thumb, I attacked her from behind with my tongue. I was in too much of a hurry to be neat, and it wasn't long until my cheeks were soaked and my tongue was leaving slippery little trails of silver on her inner thighs where I'd dribbled.
Mercedes let her upper body drop and let her head rest on her forearms, her fur soaking up her squeals. I swept my fingers into the spongy tissue of her g-spot and ramped up the pressure. Within seconds, her muffled squeals turned into thin, keening squeaks.
I don't know what the hell kind of gym she went to, but when she orgasmed I swear she nearly broke my damn fingers. She rocked gently on the ends of my fingers while I was easing them free, sucking them clean. Mercedes hadn't managed to break my fingers, but she gave me a pretty nifty bruise for a couple of days.
I let her recover for a minute or two, then patted her on the ass and told her to get a shower while I tidied up the mess we'd made. I did what I could about the smell with air fresheners and Febreeze, picked up the clothes and washed out the stains on the carpet. Mercedes came down to wait for her guests, I went up for a shower and slipped out the back with one of her jackets.
We had a nice, long talk the next day and cleared the air a little. We talked over the notes, the interfering, the whole bag of worms, and about what the previous night meant, and we came to a good understanding. She bought me a big-ass "thank you for not taking me to court" present over the way she treated me and I agreed to stay on and continue to keep meeting her insanely high housekeeping standards.
I won't pretend it's all better now. Mercedes is still the same maniacal, detail obsessive bitch she was before. Still, the notes have stopped and she treats me with respect rather than just politeness now. When she gets too much, we wind up having one of our "special talks". It's not perfect, but what the hell. I can think of a lot of worse ways to make a living.