Every Tuesday they came, efficient and no-nonsense. A team of three, all of them lean and tough-looking. They all look remarkably similar, perhaps close enough to be related, but there's no small talk and she's not even sure whether they speak enough English to ask them. Not that they'd waste their time chatting with her anyway, they barely stopped moving for a minute.

Quickly and quietly they passed through the house, cleaning and polishing and vacuuming until everything sparkled and gleamed in their wake. She'd given up on the old habit of tidying up before they arrived, they were so much more efficient than she'd ever bothered to be.

Downstairs was first, and in less than half an hour they'd turn chaos into perfect order, not a wasted movement in their well-rehearsed routine. She'd watched the first time, but was soon intimidated by their brutal intensity into leaving them to it. Now she retreated to her office, listening out for any problems, unlikely as that was.

Then they'd be up the stairs, lifting plant pots and wiping beneath, effortlessly finding every cobweb and speck of dust on even the highest windowsill.

Beds were made, pillows fluffed and picture frames wiped. Then the bathrooms, and her body reacted with nervousness. She wasn't sure how it started exactly, other than she'd found her carelessly discarded wand neatly tucked beneath her pillow after they'd been one day, cord carefully untwisted and wrapped perfectly around the handle.

Then one of them poked her head around the door of her home office, beckoning her with a perfectly shaped but unpainted fingernail. She followed, trying not to show her eagerness.

As she stepped into the bathroom the three of them surrounded her, sleeves rolled up and black latex gloves covering their hands. Her clothes seemed to evaporate from her body in seconds, and she was purposefully guided into the walk-in shower.

The water was colder than she preferred, but she knew they'd ignore any protests. The rough scrub of at least four hands warmed her anyway, and she felt her skin glow pink under the rough cloths they used. She felt soft and weak compared to their hard-edged bodies, but they showed no sign of caring how she looked.

Purposefully and with perfect efficiency she was cleaned, before being guided to her knees and then onto all fours. A gloved finger pushed into her ass, quickly yet gently lubricating her. Immediately something hard was pressed into her tight hole, and she breathed slowly to relax.

Steadily, the warm water filled her ass, and she felt the weight in her stomach as she knelt between them. They made no sound, but somehow seemed impatient and disinterested even as the second syringe was pressed into her tight hole.

Soon she was squirming, the pressure in her stomach matched by the growing ache in her clit. She hated and loved being treated like this. Then the third nozzle was pressed in, this one filling her more slowly. She wondered if they each did a syringe, but each time they did this she forgot to keep track.

Then the hard plastic was removed, and an almost gentle finger caressed her pucker. She almost moaned in achy need at her touch.

Then six hands were on her, at least she thought so. It was hard to keep track with the constant movement, the pinching and tweaking. She felt like livestock as they squeezed her hanging tits, pinching and twisting the nipples then sliding over her swollen belly.

The wand came next, somehow catching her unaware as it did every time, and this time she did moan, feeling immediately self-conscious but pushing it down as the wand found just the right spot.

Fingers then, slipping inside her ass despite her tight squeeze. Then her pussy too, was that two or three fingers that seemed to slip effortlessly inside?

A latex-covered thumb pushed into her mouth, and she realised she'd had her mouth hanging open. She sucked now, pushing down the humiliation and letting her body react how it needed to.

A momentary thought flashed through her mind, how would this look if someone were to walk in now? The idea of that humiliation pushed a button and suddenly she was close.

Then there were impatient fingers snapping in front of her face, and the sheer disrespect and disinterest they were showing her pushed her right over the edge.

Her thighs trembled, a deep moan escaped her lips, and her asshole finally released all the liquid she'd been holding as the orgasm rippled out from her clit. Her hips thrust involuntarily, her tits swinging as her body was wracked with pleasure. Then she relaxed, folding into a heap on the floor of the shower.

When she came fully back to consciousness the house was quiet. She stood and rinsed herself off once more, and wrapped a towel around herself before making her way back to her office. In her absence it had been cleaned too, papers neatened and plants rearranged. The envelope of cash she'd left for them was gone, and a note was left in its place.

Same time next week. Need glass cleaner.