The mulatto of the gym (2)

Just fucked, the cum spills from your ass onto his stomach, you're still horny like a bitch in heat, the cage has you like this and you need him to fuck you more.
You throw yourself onto his belly and run your tongue over his abs, collecting every drop of warm cum. He laughs from above, with his hands behind his head, letting you do it, watching as you greedily devour even the last drop of cum

"Well, look at yesterday's virgin turned into a cum-licking bitch. Who has seen you and who sees you now."

You clean him until you leave him totally clean, and when you finish you lift your face and beg him with your most pathetic voice

"Fuck me again. Please. I beg you."

He sits up, looks at you with that slow smile and shakes his head.

"Yeah, sure, very nice. But before I put my cock in you again, there's one thing you have to understand." He gets up from the bed and gestures to the room. "This house doesn't clean itself. I train six days a week, study, go out... I can't do it all. And since you come here to get fucked by me, you're going to earn it."

He points to the clothes thrown on the floor, the damp towels, the glasses on the nightstand, the gym bag with sweaty clothes.

"From today, you're my cleaning boy. You come, sweep, mop, do the laundry, iron my T-shirts, leave the bathroom sparkling... and when you finish, if I'm satisfied, I'll take the cage off you and give you what you want. If not, you leave with the lock on and with nothing. Get it?"

You stand still for a second. He raises an eyebrow.

"I said, do you get it."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, master."

There it is. The word comes out on its own and his face lights up. He sits on the edge of the bed, crosses his arms and gives you the first order.

"Well, start with that mountain of sweaty clothes. Put them in the washing machine, short cycle at sixty. I'll leave the ironing for later, because I want to see you bent over the ironing board. And don't forget to wash the dishes in the kitchen. Hurry up, I don't have all day."

You're on your knees picking up a T-shirt that smells of his sweat when he stops you with his voice.

"Oh, and one more thing." He gets up, comes closer and grabs your chin so you look at him. "The house is my house, but from now on the one who scrubs, cooks and cleans is you. I'm the one who trains, the one who fucks and the one who has the key. You're the one who makes sure everything is perfect for when I arrive. Let it sink in, because this isn't a favor. This is what you've been since yesterday: my cleaning boy and my fuck sack. And now, get to work."

He smacks your ass with an open hand and lies back down on the bed. You remain standing, with the sweaty towel in your hands and the cold lock still squeezing your cock, and you go to the kitchen with your ears burning.

In the sink there's a pile of dishes. On the l...