Note: As far as my writing goes, this little piece is not suitable for work.
This is absolutely pure fantasy.
Being a house boy isn’t the worst job i’ve had. i mean, compared to working alone at a 7-Eleven in the middle of the night, easy prey for a junkie willing to kill for a fix, it ain’t half-bad. Sure, i’m naked, except for my collar, or the latex gloves i sometimes wear to keep my hands clean.
Each day, Mistress has a list of chores for me. i thank her for the work and the opportunity to serve. It’s pretty no-nonsense work. There’s no ironing her panties or scrubbing the toilet with my toothbrush. i’m expected to do my work, without mistakes, and i usually perform them flawlessly. Usually. However the other day, i was tasked with filling Mistress’s fountain pens. The protocol demands i not spill any ink or leave ink stains on my fingers or the counters or the furniture.
i got down to work. Instead of my clear disposable gloves, i put on the black disposable ones. They were within reach. For most things, they work just as well. The filling went well, No spills. i was finishing up, cleaned them, put the pens where mistress directs them to be available for her use.
i was ready for her to return home. i fixed her hibiscus tea. The tea bags were in the pot, the water just shy of the rolling boil she prefers. I heard her car in the driveway, her key in the lock. i was clean, beard trimmed, nails groomed. i waited for her, kneeling. She greeted me with her customary pat on my lowered head, as if i were her pet, which i am.
She went to the downstairs powder room and i heard a shout. “you lazy little pig! What is this?!” Rushing to the bathroom i see the blue ink smudge on the counter. How could i have missed it?
“This is unsatisfactory. What gloves did you use when you filled my pens?”
“The black ones Mistress.”
“Do you see what has happened? The ink got on the black gloves and there was no way you could have noticed. And you neglected to check any surfaces you touched.”
i was ashamed at this lapse of impeccable servitude.
” i shall clean it immediately.”
“Of course, you will. First however, bring me my tea. I will consider a punishment while I enjoy my tea.”
The counter was clean. She had finished her tea.
“boy, come here. Bring the brown strap. “
i crawled into her office, the strap in my teeth. i prostrated myself at her feet. Silent.
“Give me the strap. Bend over the ottoman. you know why you are to be punished?”
“I believe ten should make the desired point.”
As was her custom she immediately began, with full force, i could feel my buttocks being marked with every stinging strike. As abruptly as she started she stopped. And left me there to “think things over.”
i was ashamed at my failure. And yet, my erection showed how much i savored this attention. Since self-pleasuring is forbidden for me, I remained there, marked buttocks exposed, my erection pressed against the leather of the ottoman.
“Enough contemplation,.” she declared. “Fix me dinner. you will eat from The Doggy Dish at my feet.”
Another Day in Service