I wake up with a start. The room is dark and silent. The silence is broken by noise coming from the master bedroom. What sounds like passionate, whimpering cries amid yearning groans. There is the headboard slamming into the wall, rattling the bed in the guest room upon which I was sleeping. The noise keeps me from slipping back to sleep. In the background I hear my wife’s frantic moans, pleading louder for her lover to fuck her harder.

It is still dark outside my window. The time on my watch says 4:23. Usually I’m up by 6 am. I pull the bedcover over my head and follow it with a pillow. They aren’t enough to drown out the noise of sex coming from beyond the wall. This is the sort of punishment I suffer whenever Gina — my wife and Mistress — invites one of her lovers over to spend the night. Her pleasure is often my pain; my humiliation her happiness. I crave to be in the room with them, to watch them fuck. Not to participate though, just to watch and masturbate to their action. My Mistress doesn’t always allow that; she is too sensitive to let me have my own pleasure under her hands. Who am I to argue with her?

The headboard is banging hard against the wall. Besides my Mistress’s wailing cries I can hear her lover, Jerome, grunting in rhythm with her. I can picture him right now, on top of her, holding her legs apart and pounding her silly. The way she hollers his name, I know he’s hitting the right spot.

I pull the pillow and covers off my head and turn over on my side to face the window. I can barely make out stars in the distant sky beyond the curtains. I force myself to count sheep backwards and it isn’t long before my alarm goes off and I grumble as I pull the sheets off me and climb out of bed. There isn’t any noise coming from the main bedroom now. Sunlight creeps upon the world, driving away what remains of the night.

One of several rules that I adhere to is to keep clear of the main bedroom until her lover departs; the rest of the house is mine to roam. Luckily for me I’ve taken out my clothes to wear for the day and after a good shave I jump into the shower to wash the night’s memory out of my mind. While in there I picture my Mistress getting pounded and I masturbate to the images.

I am almost done making breakfast when I hear my Mistress and Jerome come down the stairs. She is wearing her robe and has her arm around his waist while he is dressed in his work clothes. They come and join me in the kitchen and we sit at the table while I present them with their meal — scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and sausages; for me, I have cereal and a glass of milk. I sit at a separate chair while they have the kitchen table to themselves. My Mistress spoon-feeds Jerome. Now and then she wipes something off his lip and follows it with a kiss.

I hurry up with my meal because I have an important chore to do before leaving for work. I drop my plate into the sink and wash my hands before turning to my wife.

“Thank you for a lovely meal, darling,” I say to my Mistress. “I’ll go take care of the bedroom now.”

They don’t bother glancing at me as I walk past them. I stop at the closet beside the kitchen and take out cleaning fluids and a large roll of tissue and then up the stairs I go.

It doesn’t usually take long for me to get done with cleaning the room. But I like to get lazy about it, enjoying the task at hand while keeping track of the time so I won’t be late for work. The room smells of pussy and semen and sweat and everything that comes with fucking. I start with opening the windows, removing the bedsheets and pillow cases next. I hold the sheets to my face and lick off cum stains before dumping them on the floor. I take painstaking pleasure wiping the room clean. I’m halfway through with the roll of tissue by the time I get done; the floor is littered with the remains and I remember to scoop them up. I make the bed with a fresh set of sheets and take the dirty ones down to the washing machine in the basement.

My Mistress, having seen Jerome off, comes upstairs and inspects the room. She is very thorough when it comes to this. I stand by the doorway and watch her look everywhere. She inspects the bed like a Drill Sergeant would. Usually she smiles when I’ve done a good job and rewards me with a kiss.

“I’ve packed your meal for you downstairs, honey,” she says to me. “Better not be late for work.”

“I won’t.”

I put on my jacket, grab my briefcase and lunch box, wave goodbye to her and then I’m out of the house.

As I get into my car and pull out of the driveway, I imagine my Mistress scrolling through her phone in search of another one of her lovers to come by. Usually she does that if she isn’t going out. I hope they mess up the bed and leave plenty of cum for me to clean up. The thought of that has me licking my lips.