‘It’s frivolous. You’re frivolous. Don’t you realise some us struggle to pay our bills each month.’
The conversation was always the same with Jane, I wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t nursing a rather expensive bottle of wine as we spoke, and if there was even truth in the nature of my frivolity.
‘What is your indiscretion?’ I hear you cry. I must confess, I have a cleaner. At least this is what Jane thinks. What I actually have though is a willing and consenting submissive, who gains an awful lot of pleasure from being allowed to do various household tasks for me. In exchange I reward her for her good behaviour. She’s adorable and eager to please which means my house is always spotless. She also has a variety of cleaning outfits that without fail brighten my day when I see them.
My phone pings with today’s outfit in question, and as I go to open it Jane sighs loudly and starts a tirade of how she hates mobiles and how there is no peace in the world any more. Again, I wouldn’t mind but she was on the phone for 30 minutes of our current two hour lunch date. When I check my message and see her delightful French Maid’s outfit and the feather duster in her hand, I am done, lunch is finished and I am going home to inspect her efforts.
As I open the door I can hear her rustling around in the kitchen, as I enter I am not disappointed by the view I am greeted with. Kneeling down, cleaning the floor, her tiny skirt is no match for her beautiful bottom and it is on full display. I love her bum. Biting it, beating it, grabbing it, all of which we might indulge in later, if she has completed her tasks to the required standard.
I wander around the house, checking all the agreed upon areas of inspection. Everything is as it should be, until I reach the bathroom. My mirrors are usually gleaming after she has cleaned them, today though they are streaky and peppered with finger marks. She knows the punishment for this infraction, and while I was excited to reward her, it is my job to give her what she needs, and what she needs right now is reprimanding.
When I reach the kitchen she is sitting on her assigned chair waiting for my feedback. The look on her face tells me she already knows what is coming though.
‘On your feet.’
She stands but there is apprehension in her body language, she will follow every order I issue, but she will do so wishing she did not have to. Wishing she could say no, wondering why she didn’t just clean the mirror properly. Of course she can say no if she wants to, she can use her words to explain that she doesn’t want this anymore, but she won’t, she never does, because above all else, it’s this part of her that brought her to me.
I spread her legs as she rests her hands on the kitchen table. Her panties are soaked through, and I move them aside so my fingers can explore the wetness of her folds. As my fingers move inside her cunt, my words being to weave inside her mind, I whisper at her ear, soft and wicked, as I begin to strip away her decency and turn her into the puddle of nothing she desires to be.
‘You’re a disgrace. Fucking useless. My mirror is filthy. Your mind is too full of perversions to focus properly. You’re a dirty girl, a bad girl, just a filthy fucking slut if I’m being honest.’
With every word I speak she gets wetter and wetter, she is whimpering too, and I know she will cry. Her tears will fall and as I watch that happen my cunt will spasm and I’ll be left with no other options than to fuck her useless we’ve both faded into oblivion. That is later though, now I must teach her a lesson.
As my fingers increase their efforts to fuck her to orgasm, her moaning becomes more desperate and the wanton slut in her shines through.
‘What are you, girl?’
‘A filthy fucking slut Miss.’ She says in one breath, then lets out a groan of pleasure to punctuate it.
‘Really? Just a filthy fucking slut.’
‘No Miss. I’m your filthy fucking slut.’
Yes. Yes she is. Mine, all mine and that’s why I must be firm with her, because what my slut needs, my slut gets and what she needs right now is to be debased and ruined, so she can feel free and complete.
My tirade on her mind continues as my fingers pound into her. I use all the words I know humiliate her, I tap into to those parts of her that no-one else knows about. I dig deep and use her shame against her, all the while making her more and more aroused, to the point that she is begging to come.
‘Please Miss. Please Miss. Please can I come, I can’t … I’
I make her wait, just a few moments longer. Her legs can barely hold her weight now, and her ragged breathing and desperate pleas are becoming so intense I could cry with happiness. I just want a little more of it, a little more of her desperation to feed the wickedness within.
Then it’s time. I can feel her cunt beginning to clench around my fingers in a way that tells me she will not be able to hold off much longer. My fingers pound into her, hard and fast, right against that spot she loves to hate. She will fill the air with cries of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’, and if I stopped she would cry out furiously and beg me to keep going. I don’t stop today though, today I give her exactly what she deserves.
She comes hard against my fingers – the warm, wet product of my efforts gushing over my hand and onto the nice, clean floor. She falls to her knees, she is as I predicted crying, great sobbing gasps as she kneels in a pool of her own creation. It isn’t over yet though, her punishment has only just begun.
‘You know what to do. Be a good girl and clean up your mess.’
She looks up at me with tear stained cheeks, her make-up smeared all over her face. She looks like a wreck and in my opinion extraordinarily beautiful. The looks in her eyes is pleading: ‘please don’t make me do this,’ they say. I must though: without this bit, she will retain some dignity and she needs to be stripped of that completely.
And as always she needs some physical encouragement, my fingers twist into her hair and I push her face into the mess she has made, reminding her once more that she’s a naughty girl who deserves to be punished. I catch her eye as she begins to lap at floor, and that look is everything.
Humiliated and degraded, she is consumed by shame, these things she lets me to do her are beyond convention, they are, to most people’s minds, depraved and disgusting. In fairness they are depraved and disgusting and that is why they are so much fun. She knows this, she knows if she tells any of her friends what we do together they would shy away and probably call her awful names and that would not be acceptable. I am the only one who gets to call her awful names, and she loves me for it and that shows in her eyes too. Adoration for the one who embraces her perversions and sets her free by reducing her to a cum cleaning slut. My beautiful cum cleaning slut.
After a few minutes she is lost to her task, eyes closed, body relaxed, she has found her happy place. Which means knowing she is content and satisfied, and I can now use her for other things.
Taking her hand I lead her upstairs, to the bathroom of all places, where the dirty mirror kick-started today’s fun. I glance at it again, the words ‘Please degrade me Miss’ daubed on it in soapy finger streaks. When she asks for things so nicely, it is always a pleasure to provide them for her.
Now though we climb into the shower together and I wash her hair and her body, enjoying the sight of the water cascading over her curves, my fingers trace familiar marks and blemishes, that she used to complain about me paying attention to, but now she smiles and giggles at how much I love all of her.
Her own hands explore my body and as they reach my face she pulls me into a kiss, it is filled with passion, and when we pull away she whispers a soft ‘thank you.’
I am thankful too. Thankful that she trusts me enough to explore the dark places with her, to keep her safe and to make sure I always bring her back into the light with gentle and loving aftercare. Which helps things return to a more ‘everyday’ equilibrium and our D/s dynamic ebbs away softly so it is just a quiet lapping at the shore of our being together, everyday kinds of conversation resume as she asks me how lunch was.
‘Filled with Jane’s gripes as always. But she did make me laugh once or twice, so not all bad.’
‘Does she still think I’m your cleaner?’
‘She does. We should really tell her you’re my girlfriend soon though and make proper introductions.’
‘Oh no! Not yet! Please Miss, please let’s leave it a little longer, it’s so much fun this way.’
I can’t help but laugh, ‘and people say I’m the wicked one. You my girl are every bit as wicked as me.’ With that she splashes me full in the face with the water she has collected in her hands, and I suspect a whole new kind of punishment is in her future.