By the time I finished unpacking, it was late. That’s when I remembered that one of Jasmine’s two bedrooms served as her office.

“Miss Jasmine?”

“Yes, Sweetie?”

“Where am I going to sleep?” I was dreading the couch.

“With me, of course.” She pointed to her California King.

“With… you mean in your bed?”

“I certainly don’t mean under it. Or in my closet. I like having someone to cuddle with. And if I become aroused, your mouth is right there.”

Jasmine wanted me to spoon with her. Her warmth and perfume caused my aching cock to rub against her smooth buttocks. She found my state amusing. “If you leak, you will lick me clean,” she warned me cheerfully.

“Can I have an orgasm?”

“Not tonight.”

“But- That makes cuddling with you really hard!”

“You mean you are really hard. Oh! This is new to you, isn’t it? You never slept in Lisa’s bed, did you?”

“No. I was always under it.”

“Well… you’ll just have to remember what I said about sexual discipline.”

“Please?”

“Am I going to have to punish you on our first night together?”

“No, Miss Jasmine. I’m very sorry I disturbed you.” I started to get out of bed.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I’ll just step into the bathroom, and take care of myself.”

“Your hands belong on me!”

“But-“

“I suppose we need to settle this.” She switched on her nightlight and faced me. “We do not have an egalitarian relationship-“

“I know that!”

“Then do not interrupt. I will receive orgasms from you, whenever I want. You will only receive orgasms from me… whenever I want. Is that clear?”

“Uh… Yes, Miss Jasmine. When can I have one?”

“You are persistent.” She tapped my nose. “For every 15 times you make me cum, you will earn an orgasm.”

“Fifteen!”

“Would you prefer twenty?”

“No!”

“Then I suggest gratitude.”

“Yes, Miss Jasmine. Thank you.”

You’re welcome. You’ve already earned a credit for that excellent encounter earlier. And I promise you’ll earn more tomorrow. But right, now, go to sleep.”

After I cooked breakfast, we sat at Jasmine’s kitchen table while she detailed my duties. “Here.” She presented me with a smartwatch. “When I need you, I’ll send you a message.”

I put it on with a feeling of disappointment. “This is very nice, but…”

“Yes, Dear?”

“Would you mind…using a bell?”

“You want me to ring for you when I want you?”

“Please? If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not. I told you, I want you to be happy. Get me a cute bell when you go out for groceries.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm. Ringing for you will be fun. Now… I will plan the menus. You will shop for groceries, cook, clean, and do laundry. I’ll give you instructions for my lingerie when you undress me.”

“Yes, Miss Jasmine.”

“I know Lisa used you as her personal maid, but I have my own preferences. I will expect you to remember my likes and dislikes.”

“Yes, Miss Jasmine.”

“You will bathe me, take care of my hair, shave me, and give me massages. Do you know how to give manicures and pedicures?”

“Yes, Miss Jasmine.”

“We shall see. I’m very particular about my nails. I’m also particular about my clothing, especially my footwear. Should a pair I wish to wear be in less than perfect condition… Don’t forget that I control your orgasms.”

“Yes, Miss Jasmine.”

“How is your fashion sense?”

“I-“

“I’ll give you a few days to learn my tastes, then I’ll expect you to choose my outfits.”

“Thank you, Miss Jasmine. I’d really like that!”

She chuckled. “You’re welcome. Speaking of what you really like, it’s time to earn an orgasm credit.” She leaned back in her chair and uncrossed her legs.

Jasmine surprised me with a large, stiff cushion. I could sit on the floor facing her and lean back against it while I serviced her feet. “However,” she informed me, “this is for work. When you want to worship me, you will kneel.”

After dinner, she liked to cuddle with me on her couch. Sometimes, she’d put her feet in my lap. “Just make sure there is more rubbing than kissing.”

Jasmine’s punishments were imaginative. For a minor offense, when I was about to join her on the couch, she would remind me about my infraction, and then say “footstool.”

I had to strip, get on all fours, and serve as her hassock. She would ignore me while she entertained herself. Occasionally, she would massage my neglected manhood with a bare foot. If I leaked, I had to lick her foot clean. As she intended, this punishment was as boring as it was sexually frustrating.

Floormat was much worse. “Strip. Unless you are otherwise engaged in my service, you will lie face up under my feet. You may not respond in any way. And, of course, you will not ejaculate. Disobedience will cost your next orgasm.”

She would then proceed to rub her bare feet over my face and my manhood. Several hours of this torment, combined with her constant demand for oral sex, would reduce me to an aroused, whimpering, begging mess.

If she was really mad, I had to explain to her why I did not deserve my next orgasm, and request a spanking. Then I had to lay face down across her lap, with my manhood between her thighs. She made certain I was aroused before she laid into me with her hairbrush. She knew as much about pain as she did about pleasure. I think she enjoyed my pleading and begging.

Jasmine did not exaggerate her desire for sex. How could such a feminine trans lady be so virile? Didn’t she take hormones? I was not going to ask, but I was really puzzled. She respected my wish to not violate my ass, but I sucked her cock, her “she-beef” as she called it, a lot!

Since my orgasms depended on her orgasms, I developed ways to keep track.

She would set my smartwatch alarm for thirty minutes before she wanted to get up. Most mornings, she slept on her back. If she was on her side, or her stomach… according to her, I have a creative tongue. Besides, that’s why she gave me the extra time. She usually woke up just before her morning wood fed me a Wakeup Call.

After we ate breakfast, Jasmine, still in her robe, liked to remain at the kitchen table and sip her coffee. As long as her legs were crossed, I would clean the kitchen, and lay out ingredients for lunch and dinner. But if she opened her legs, I crawled under the table for Second Breakfast.

During her midafternoon break, she would change into shorts for a run, and return home soaked with sweat, and high on endorphins. She liked me to rub my face against her crotch, and pull her shorts down without using my hands. Her sweaty cock was not tasty, but it wasn’t in my mouth for very long. She would grab my head, and piston her hips until I took Afternoon Tea. Then I would help her shower and change.

If she was in a tedious teleconference, I would squeeze under her desk and silently relieve her boredom with a Between Meal Snack.

After dinner, Jasmine usually changed into pajamas, and sat on her couch. She liked to pull my head into her lap while she talked on her phone. If her conversation became risqué, or if she was just in the mood, she would tap the back of my head. I would swallow my Digestif without disturbing her conversation. If even a single drop stained her PJs… as she warned me, “Why spoil the surprise?”

Jasmine showered just before bed. After I soaped her, and stroked her to slippery hardness, I would kneel, engulf her, and receive a Good Night Kiss as I took away the day’s stress. Not very tasty, but at all times satisfying.

I didn’t swallow every one of those every day, but I earned an orgasm two or three times a week. I became aroused whenever Jasmine fucked my mouth, even Afternoon Tea. But Goodnight Kiss was especially frustrating; my hands had just been all over her nude body, then I had to spoon with her. Every night, I went to sleep with my aching manhood rubbing against her smooth, sweet buttocks.