Mistress looked angry.

I had arrived when she said to. I had followed all her instructions. My body was shaved bare except for the crown of red hair she allowed me to keep above my cock. She allowed me entry, and I knelt before her as she read. At first, she was quiet. Casting the occasional annoyed glance my way. The annoyance turned to irritation. Then there was a snarl on her lip. And finally, anger.

“Mistress, have I done something wrong?”

She tapped her nail against her book, saying nothing.

“What should I do?”

She spoke almost in a growl. “Why must I tell you what I want? Isn’t it obvious?”

I had been serving her for only a short time, and she had taught me so much. But I still needed guidance. Confused, I shrugged. That was the wrong response.

She stood up like a bolt, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me to her chair. “Drop your pants. NOW!” I fumbled nervously with my belt and slid my jeans to my knees. Mistress stopped, looking at my underwear. Running her fingertips over the lacy design on my ass, I did catch the briefest of smiles, which made me proud of my choice of panties. But the anger quickly took back over, and she pulled them down as well.

She walked to the wall, where she had several of her favorite instruments for beating ass displayed with reverence. She looked back, considering me as I held my breath. She picked up the large, wooden paddle. Lovingly running her hand over it, she asked, “You came to play, yes?”

I nodded. I was so nervous I could barely muster a weak, “Yes, Mistress.”

She tilted her head, thinking hard before putting back the thick paddle. Then she pulled down the whip. She hadn’t used that on me before. The thought of it both excited and terrified me. On our first day, she showed me each of her tools of discipline, explaining to me their individual purposes. She had told me that the whip would likely draw blood. She cracked it on the ground, and I surprised myself with a small shriek. A wicked grin spread over her lips.

“When I play, I want everything to be perfect. But my home is not perfect, is it?” I looked around. It certainly wasn’t dirty; it was in good order. It was basically neat and tidy. But the closer I looked, I saw how I could improve it. There was dirt on the kitchen floors. Dust on the art and along the lamps. The little things people always put off.

“I… I could clean for you, Mistress!” The thought of it honestly made me happy. I liked being of service. And I was damn good at making a room spotless.

“Yes, you can, and you’re eager. That’s good.” She put the whip back, to my admitted relief. Then she took the bamboo cane. My skin prickled. That one hurt. And it hurt a long time after she struck me with it, too. Nodding, she made her selection and walked back toward me. “But I shouldn’t have to ask. I shouldn’t have to tell you. You must learn to anticipate your Mistress’ needs. And that is what punishment is for. It’s to teach you.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I grew quiet again as she approached. My bare ass, trembling as she ran the end of the cane up and down my thighs. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Don’t be sorry. Focus on the pain. You’re still learning. And the sting will act as a tutor. Count out loud.”

I nodded, clenching my eyes.

“No, don’t do that. I want to see those lovely green eyes. I want to make sure you are here and present. You must never hide from discipline, you must embrace it as a gift.” She set her feet in a wide stance, and slowly practiced the motion of her inevitable swing.

“Yes, Mistress.” There was a split second where I heard the crack before I felt the pain spread through up the nerves in my spine. “AH! O-one!” The first strike was almost merciful, across the meat of my ass cheek. The next was in the same spot. “Two! Three. Oh! AH! Four!” Four times in a row, the hard punishment beat the exact same place. The sting didn’t just burn; I could feel it bruising deep into the soft tissue. I realized, to my embarrassment, tears were running down my cheek.

“Is my boy so delicate?” Tittering, she continued. This time, the bamboo struck me on the tender line where my thighs met my ass. The hairs of my balls hanging between my legs brushed against the bamboo, showing me how close I was to something truly excruciating. I screamed, as pathetic as that was. Mistress petted me on my head. “Where’s my count?”

I took a moment, and Mistress allowed me time to control my breathing. “Five.” And in quick succession, with me counting off as she painted my backside red… Six, seven, eight, nine… “TEN!” My flesh absolutely burned. I didn’t have to see it to know what it looked like, lines of pink skin raised.

“Good, for now. Now come with me. If you’re going to clean, you must look the part.” I sniffled as she took my hand. I stood to join her, realizing the first place she had hit me ached when I walked. I whimpered and limped, surprised at the persistence of the pain. She saw I was having trouble calming myself after my lesson, and she took a moment to hold me close, letting me match my breath to hers. “Better?”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” She led me to her room and then to her closet. She opened it, and my eyes fell on the garment immediately. A maid’s uniform. French maid, actually. The slutty kind you find at sex shops, but of much higher quality. I found myself drawn to it. Mistress smiled as I caressed the black and white cotton, letting my fingers dance over the various textures.

“Change in the closet, but no looking at yourself. I’ll be waiting.” Mistress smiled, and my heart soared.

My hands were shaking, and I realized how excited I was. Elegant white thigh-high hosiery with a lacy cuff held up by black garters. A short little skirt. She even had high heels for me! I changed quickly, eager to be seen.

I walked out, and Mistress said nothing. She sat at her vanity and simply nodded to the floor next to her. I presented myself, feeling sexy as I dropped to my knees before her. On the table, she laid out jars, tubes, and brushes. And I was painted. It’s hard to say exactly what she did. I remember her giving me commands like, ‘stop blinking’ and ‘pout your lips’. But mostly, I just felt like I was floating.

There was a mirror right behind her, but I always want to be a good boy. So I didn’t dare look before I was given permission. Then, lovingly, she smiled and kissed my head. “One last touch, go lie on the bed.”

I knew what was next, and the excitement made me inconveniently hard. Mistress opened her drawer, the silver glistening in her hand as she walked over. Lifting my skirt, I blushed. Her warm hand rubbed my tight balls, and to my shame, my cock spat a strand of cum onto my new outfit.

“You’re excited, and that’s good. But you are a long time from your reward.” With a sudden motion, she swatted my tender testicles with her fingers. I groaned as the pain shot into my body. Again and again, she struck me. Not to be cruel, the pain was needed to make my hard on diminish. And once I had softened enough for my cock to be pliable, I was caged.

The metal right wrapped around my testicles, cold and firm. She took the tip of my cock between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it into the cage. She was careful, delicate as the bindings were put into place. And once it was set, a small lock in the shape of a heart clicked. The key was placed on a chain she wore around her neck.

“Come here, little girl. And close your eyes. When you open them, I want you to describe how you feel.” Mistress didn’t take my hand this time. She gripped my caged dick. The warmth of her touch made me swell in my cage, and I bubbled and dripped. “What an eager girl you are,” she said, putting her sticky fingers in my mouth to clean. I closed my eyes and suckled my cum from her digits.

Putting her hands on my hips, she pulled me into position. With a gentle kiss on my shoulder, and I knew I was allowed to look. I stared at myself, my cheeks burning red. My body turned me on, so sensuous and feminine. My legs, which I was always proud of, looked long and alluring in the short skirt. I turned so I could see how my ass popped out when I moved. She had given me pink lips and rosy cheeks. It was me, but it wasn’t. It was someone I always knew as inside me who wanted to come out and play. I felt lightheaded.

“Speak up, Willow.” I had told her I preferred that name when I was femme. It helped me feel it more. And I absolutely beamed when she addressed me by it.

“I feel… pretty, Mistress. I look so pretty. Pretty… pretty, pretty…” The word hung in my mouth. Overwhelming everything else I had to say. It was more than a word; it was pure joy that clung to my lips. I realized I was speaking softer, higher-pitched. I hadn’t meant to; it happened so naturally. “And I feel grateful. Thank you, Mistress.”

With a hard slap on my still-burning ass, she laughed. “Thank me by getting to work. I have company coming over.”

Company? I didn’t dare ask for details. If she had wanted to tell me more, she would have. But who else was going to see me like this? I could see in the mirror that the blush on my cheeks was turning into beet-red embarrassment that ran down my neck and into my chest. But also, the thought of more people seeing me like this made my heart race. Again, I felt myself swell in the cage. And I dripped.

Now it was time to clean. I wouldn’t let Mistress down! She returned to her chair, picking up her book and continuing to read. I went right to work.

Top-down cleaning has always been my motto! Mistress had me clean up the messes I made before. I knew where she kept the supplies. I grabbed the duster and began going around the house. I was taller than her, and especially with the high heels, I could stretch and knock the dust from every corner. No cobweb was safe! I noticed as I swept the dirt from the chandelier, Mistress had looked up from her book to watch my tight ass bounce.

I went to her laundry room, quickly sorting her clothes. The smell of her, which made me smile. My first load was the delicates, her lacy and beautiful garments that needed tender care and air drying. The other loads of whites and colors were placed in turn for their eventual cleaning.

The red on my ass from my earlier paddling diminished, but I could see the darkening bruising from the first few strikes, and the dull throb reminded me to look for what Mistress needed and not ask. I liked the pain; it reminded me of my lesson. It reminded me Mistress was watching over me.

The next few hours were a flurry of cleaning. I put everything into it. Laundry, dishes, polishing, and anything I saw that I could improve. Getting on my hands and knees to scrub the floors. Mistress entered her kitchen, looking at my progress and praising me with a, “Good girl.” She knelt behind me as I worked the soapy water into some dried dirt on the floor. Her hand lifted my skirt and tightly squeezed my balls, eliciting a high-pitched moan from my lips. “Make sure not to leave your puddles as you go. You may put on the lacy underwear you brought.”

I did as she said, mortified as I realized how many little drops I had left on her carpet. Soon, there was a knock on the door.

“Answer it, Willow.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I nervously went to the front door and peeked out the peephole. An attractive man and woman, both a little older than me, patiently waited. I opened the door, a thrilling chill running down my spine as I greeted them. “Hello, you must be the Mistress’ guests. Would you please come in?”

They both looked at each other, grinning with amusement. The woman spoke. “I haven’t seen you before, dear. What’s your name?”

I blushed; her husband was practically humping me with his eyes. A visible bulge grew in his pants. “I’m Willow, Miss.”

Mistress spoke from the living room, “Bring them to me, Willow.”

I led them like an obedient servant. She walked over and hugged them both, obviously long-time friends. They greeted each other. To my surprise, the husband kissed my Mistress. His tongue shamelessly plunges into her mouth. “It’s been a while.”

She smiled back. “Too long. Willow, go into the kitchen. Make my guests some snacks and drinks.”

They spoke in whispers and giggles as I shuffled away, and I know they were talking about me. I am at home in kitchens. I used to be a cook, and as much as I wanted to make something fancier, I didn’t want to make Mistress wait. I did a quick assessment of what Mistress had on hand. I heated a kettle, making tea and elegant small sandwiches as quickly as I could.

I carried them out on a tray. Mistress was sitting at a table with her guests. I noted as I approached that Mistress was running her foot up the woman’s thigh. I was jealous of the attention she was receiving, longing for her warm socks to climb up between my legs. I carefully set down my offerings, and Mistress looked them over. “Willow, this looks lovely. I’m actually very impressed. You’ve some experience in service, haven’t you?”

I was absolutely beaming in her praise. “Yes, Mistress.” That’s when I felt the rough hand moving up my thigh. Mistress smirked as the man squeezed my ass. I looked back into his face. There was a rugged look about him, and his salt and peppered hair and stubble made for a very handsome visage. I squirmed as I felt his finger borrow into my crack, his finger tip lightly grazing my tight hole as I squeaked much to his amusement.

“So, are you going to treat us by letting us play with your new toy?” he asked.

The woman’s hand slid between my legs, fondling my caged genitals as I moaned and panted. “I was about to ask the same thing. I’ve brought a new strap-on. Shall I go get it?” I found myself unsteady in my heels and grabbed for the table to steady myself. The stranger’s molesting me while my Mistress watched and sipped her tea had made my knees quite weak.

“No,” Mistress said demurely. “At least not today. Willow is still very new. She has much to learn, and I don’t want to overwhelm her. You know, she hasn’t even sucked a cock before!”

All three of them laughed and stared at me. I can only imagine what shade of crimson I must have turned. I felt both their hands slide down my legs before they want back to their drinks.

“Willow, come here and kneel.” I did as my Mistress commanded. I kept my eyes to the ground, only daring to look up once and see the hungry disappointment in the man’s eyes. Wondering what he was thinking of doing to me. Mistress took me by the chin and rewarded me with a soft, tender kiss. She looked in my eyes and stroked my messy red hair.

“When she’s ready, please do invite us over,” the woman said. “I’ll bring my camera, too. I would like some pictures of Willow.” She said it so casually, and I realized my cum had been dribbling so much that it was now running from my panties as well.

“Willow, go and lie on my bed. Don’t move. I want you to sit there and think about today. And I want you to think about what you would like to happen in the future. My guests and I are going to have some fun. Once we are done, I’ll come see you. You’ll clean me up and tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and she gave me another kiss.

And now, I’m lying in her bed. It smells of Mistress. It smells of sex. Meanwhile, she’s loudly entertaining her guests. The house is filled with the kinky sound of fucking that one day I will be ready to join.

I think about the man with his hungry eyes and his lovely wife with her strap-on and camera. I wonder what it would feel like to have both in me at once. I think about my Mistress and wonder how differently she might screw them than me. After all, the couple seemed to be regarded as equals. My mind floated as I pondered my new role.

And I wait, the anxiousness feels like it may burst from my chest.

I wait for my Mistress. And I wonder if she’ll let me lick the man’s cum from her cunt.