Well, I did not have to wait long. before I knew what was happening a strange woman grabbed my hair, dragged me out of the chair I was sitting in and had me on my knees in front of her. I screamed in pain and fear.

“Good morning, slut,” she grinned. “Well, actually, ‘good’ is a debatable opinion, especially in your case. My name is Mistress Vultura, but you will address me as Mistress. Yes, I am a commercial dominatrix and your master has hired me to teach you a lesson.”

By now I was really scared. I had never before been dominated by a woman. She was still holding my hair and it was very painful. It brought tears to my eyes. This only seemed to amuse her.

“Open wide, girlie, I have a surprise for you,” the woman said and she yanked my hair even harder. She reached for the bag she had brought and out came a brush and some rope. Within minutes the brush had been stuffed firmly in my mouth and tied tightly. Apparently it was supposed to stay there.

The woman smiled. “Good. You look much better like that. Now get me a cup of coffee while I slip into something more appropriate.”

Still overwhelmed and unsure about what to do I hobbled to the kitchen and poured her a cup of coffee. When I returned she was “dressed” – a sexy outfit and very high heels. I knelt down and served her her coffee, like I had been taught.

“Right, girlie. The purpose of my visit,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “How many times has your master told you he wants the house spotless?”

My heart missed a beat. Master hates dirt and my household abilities are indeed below standards, to put it mildly. Okay, eventually I will clean up the house, but that usually takes a while.
It was a question she had posed and with my mouth stuffed I could not really answer her. “Twoof offen, Miftref,” I managed. The woman laughed. Some saliva started to drool from my lips. Trying to speak was not a very good idea.

“Yes, much too often, you slut. Which is why I am here. To teach you a lesson you won’t forget.” She grabbed my hair again and dragged me to the kitchen. I had difficulty following her pace, since my ankles were cuffed but she couldn’t care less.

She pushed my head down, next to the sink and filled the sink with warm water and soap. “Now scrub, slut. Scrub like your life depends on it. I want this spotless. And I mean spotless. I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if I am unhappy with your efforts, do I?” She pushed my face into the soapy warm water. “Scrub away, slut. You have a lot of work to do today.”

I was in tears. My mouth was filled with soapy water. My face was wet. There was soap in my nose and in my eyes. She slapped my behind hard. I screamed. “Scrub slut. Fast!” Another slap. And one more. On the side of thighs this time. That hurt even more. Helplessly I started to scrub. I heard the woman laugh as she returned to the living room, leaving me alone with the hopeless task.

That was the beginning of what was to become the most humiliating day in my life. She had me scrub the entire kitchen, the hall floor, the bathroom, everything. Very soon I “was” soap. And my body hurt. My knees were soon burning, my back and neck were soaring and throbbing, but there was no relief.

Every so often her boot would find my behind or she’d push her sharp heels into my flesh to make me work harder or bend down deeper. This woman was merciless and she seemed to enjoy it. And me? I scrubbed and cried and scrubbed and cried.

In fact I was still scrubbing after she had left. i did not even hear her leave. Nor did I hear master come home …

 

The above article is a reprint from our information/educational site Kink Culture.
A joint project between Wasteland and PowErotics
Copyright © Hans Meyer