She carries me - carries me! - to my bedroom, ostensibly for me to take my shower. I'm dropped unceremoniously on the bed, to look up at her.
she asks, as she bends over at the waist, blowing me a kiss and by design leaving me with a breathtaking view of cleavage. I can only nod as she leaves with a giggle and bounce, to change from her maid uniform and begin her workout.
I flop back onto the mattress, and sigh.
Oh, man. This is too much, I think.
I mean...wow. This girl is...
Floating, floating in bliss...I think back...
"You is good boy for Milenka...You is good boy for Milenka...You is good boy for Milenka...."
Those words, in our final conversation, and the way she said them - that accent, the amused, maternal lilt - they haunt me, I can still hear her speaking them. I realize: I've found myself beguiled, preoccupied with pleasing her, her first days here with me. I'm acquiescing to everything she asks...
Yes, I'll take you shopping. Yes, I'll choose a movie. Yes, I'll cook you a steak...
...I'll do anything you fucking want, just bring me to those tits...
On my back, on my bed, my hand falls down between my legs and grabs my already hardening cock through my pajama bottoms. I stroke myself once, twice - and then remember: she's going to work out...
...I sit up in bed, and lean over to pull a tablet pc from my bedside table. I power it on, and pull up my security app. Camera feeds...there are a number to choose from...
Pool1,
Pool2.
Garage.
WineCellar....ah...
Gym1,
Gym2 and
Gym3...
I feel, for a moment, a little bit of a perv. Who does this? Spy on someone as they work out?
But I can't help it...
The camera feed comes on:
Gym1. The picture is amazingly good; my IT guys are awesome. She's already there, stretching, in a magenta bra-top and tiny black athletic shorts. Oh my god, look at her...sort of on the edge of the screen, but I can see her huge, incredible ass as she goes into a garbhasana, and then a downward-dog, yoga pose. Lordy lordy lordy...
I watch her stretch for nearly a half hour - and not once does it get stale. Caterpillar, cobra, warrior, ustrasana...she's obviously been trained in yoga and pilates. I would love to focus the feed right on her, zoom in - but I have to be careful, I know, not to move the camera. She may notice it. So, when she moves off-screen, done stretching and onto a different part of the gym, I switch to...
Gym2: She's on to the weights, and I am immediately flabbergasted by what she attempts - and succeeds at - on the bench press. More than three times the weight I could manage. She super-sets in other upper-body exercises: it's incredible, the pace she moves at, and the weight she lifts. In the the squat rack, she lifts nearly three times my own mass. And the...uh...do they call it a deadlift? Ho. Lee. Crap....it's a lot.
All throughout her workout, I am hard...so very hard. This girl is a superhuman, there's no doubt about it now, and the small chill of fear sneaking through my veins only adds to my arousal. I'm stroking myself unthinkingly now, still through my pajama pants. I can only gasp, and marvel, as she adds more and more and
more weight to her bars, and lifts them with ease....
Throughout her workout, I've had to switch from
Gym2 to
Gym3 every once in a while, to follow her around the weight room. But, as she moves over to cardio, to spend a half-hour or so on the stationary bike, I'm able to settle on
Gym3.
Her speed on the bike builds and builds and builds, until it is at an almost mind-bending pace. I realize, now, why the trainers at KOLECTV needed me to buy this professional-grade model for her...wow. As she settles in at her incredible pace, I feel bold enough to zoom the camera in, to better focus on the jiggle and jostle of the view I have down her top...
...I'm entranced. I could watch this for days. But, disconcerting is when, at one moment during her intense ride, she looks up at the camera - perched in one of the room's upper corner - and smiles...
...uh, I'd better turn this off, I suddenly think.
It's probably fine, she doesn't know...just in case. But - do the cameras have little green lights to, uh...oh crap...
And so, to be safe, I switch off my tablet, and put it aside. I lean back again, on my bed, and look up the ceiling.
Lord god Milenka is strong, I think, becoming more and more aroused,
A beast. A super-woman. A giant she-hulk of a woman, livng in my house...and she could get stronger, and stronger. There's no telling what she could become...what she could do to me...
...I have to stop. If I jerk off now...
Trying to put her out of my mind for just a short while, I shower. Cold. And then, feeling refreshed, I dress. Since we're not going out tonight, I put on an old pair of khaki shorts and a soft, grey gym tee. Bare feet: why not? It's just a relaxed evening at home, I think, until...
...yikes.
"Oh, uh, hi..." I stutter, as I walk into the kitchen, "you look...awesome." Suddenly, I feel like a moron: she's dressed up, dolled-up, made herself look gorgeous for tonight. And I'm a schlub.
Typical for me, I continue to blabber, "I...like your hair, did you straighten it? And - wow - that dress....<heh heh> how'd you fit all this into your one bag?"
She giggles, obviously pleased at my compliments and not put-off by my outfit. I notice the spread of dishes she has prepared already - including four thick, rib-eye steaks set out and defrosted already, ready for the grill.
"Four steaks?" I say, laughing, "You think I'm a werewolf or something?"
But -
nyet - she tells me. Three steaks are for her. After a workout, she says, she gets very, very hungry. I tell her I'll have to eat quick, to keep it away from her...she giggles and says I should, saying her workout was a good one. And then she asks:
"Was my Master looking in at Milenka earlier?"
I flinch, but try to remain calm as I'm pouring us each a ruby glass of malbec. She must have noticed, I immediately know, the "power" lights of the gym's cameras flipping on and off throughout her workout. I had feared as much...
"Yeah, I, uh..." I respond, almost too quickly, with my practiced reply, "I wanted to make sure everything was okay...that you didn't need a...spot...or anything..."
She smiles at me quizzically as she takes her wine, and begins to laugh. Rather than taking offense, to my relief she's finding it funny, and soon we're joking again. And we talk. We meander out to the grill with our wine, and I give her a little lesson on how it works, cooking the steaks. I ask her about her workout, how it feels to be able to do so much, physically, as compared to before her treatments. I ask her if she has a set workout regimen from KOLECTV, if she's still getting stronger now that treatments have stopped. I feel a little sheepish, asking such questions after being caught as a modern-day peeping Tom, but she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I'm getting the sense that she likes the idea that all this kinda turns me on...
We eat dinner, leisurely, out on the patio. And yes - she does eat three steaks (and more than just a little bit of mine, too) each bite seeming to fill and feed her with new energy. I make some joke about growing girls, but I think I come across as more nervous than I want. She giggles anyway.
She's also amused when I quip that - unlike my breakfast - she's letting me feed my dinner to myself. With another giggle she offers to cut my food for me. I decline, laughing, but can't help but picture her looking down her nose at me, forkful of rice at the ready...
Soon enough, though, the wine is gone and the sun has set. She clears the table as I go in to choose movies. I already had my picks in mind: a classic Marilyn Monroe film (she said she liked Marilyn), a scary one (maybe she'll need to snuggle in for comforting...) and a girly romantic comedy (in case she...likes that sorta thing). Though I know I have an almost unlimited selection on-demand through my home-theater...thingy...(another marvel of my IT guys), I still feel more comfortable with the library of movies I have on disc.
I choose them from my cabinet, and wait for Milenka on the nest of blankets on the oversized, soft leather couch in the media room. It's like a huge bed, really - and she tells me as much when she enters, looking beautiful.
I show her the three movies - she has to lean in close, as the lights are low. She picks her choice and insists (
no, don't get up, Master) on putting the disc in the player herself.
From my vantage point on the couch, I direct her to the blu-ray player (quite a ways away from the huge flatscreen television on the wall) and explain the buttons - "yes, it's that one...to eject...yes, that opens it up...". I can't but be awed, again, by her muscular behind, shadowed nicely in the dim light.
Success. The player opens, she pauses and tells me there's another disc, already in the player. I blanch.
Oh no.
She holds it up, for me to see, and asks on it:
Attack of the 50-foot Woman.
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