Slave Steve had been visiting my chambers for almost a year, before I finally handed him the duster and polish and then pointed him towards my bedroom. Normally, I put him to work in my garden. He liked to scrub my patio and trim my roses, always stark naked, and with me standing by to punish him for any mistakes. Not that much punishment was needed. Slave Steve was a hard working, highly conscientious gardener. After each of his visits, my garden would look immaculate. That’s what gave me the confidence to let him loose on my boudoir.
It was a Sunday morning in January and Slave Steve was two minutes early, as always.
He knew not to keep this particular lady waiting – arrive so much as a minute late and the punishment would have been fearful. I sent my tranny slave, Sabrina, to open the door for him, then asked the he/she to lead Slave Steve upstairs to my bedroom.
Sabrina had just one other task to fulfil. She had to strip Slave Steve out of every last stitch of his clothing, so that he would appear before me naked. Two minutes’ later, I heard Slave Steve knocking timidly, tentatively, on my bedroom door. He had never been upstairs in my chambers before, so it was unsurprising that he was feeling somewhat intimidated by the change of routine. Usually, he was led straight out into the garden, so he must have sensed that something out of the ordinary was just about to happen. When I called him inside and stood before him in my corset and high heels, his very worst fears must have been confirmed. All the slaves that visit me know that the corset and heels mean trouble. They are both made out of shiny black leather, a substance that excites me beyond all measure. Sometimes I dress up as a nurse or a schoolmistress, both of which seem to bring out my maternal side. But with the leather corset exaggerating my hourglass curves and the five-inch heels making me over six feet tall, I become a total bitch-goddess, a dominatrix from hell.
“Clean my room, you naked shit!” I shouted at Slave Steve, then I threw a feather duster and some polish at his feet. He bent down to pick them up and then crawled across to my dressing table. “Aren’t you going to thank me for letting you clean my room?” I asked, as, silently, he began to perform his duties.
“Sorry, Mistress,” Slave Steve said. “Thank you, Mistress. I am unworthy of such a task.”
“You certainly are,” I said to him, watching closely as he sprayed some polish on the wooden surface of the dressing table. Already, Slave Steve was starting to sweat, as if he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to complete his task to my satisfaction. He felt comfortable in the garden, since he had done his gardening tasks enough times to know what he was doing, but this was totally new to him.
“By the time I get back, I want to be able to see my face in that surface,” I shouted at Slave Steve, then I leaned down towards him and grabbed hold of his nipples. He winced, as I slowly twisted his nipples right round in a circle. “Or else,” I told him, sternly, before turning on my heels and leaving him to carry out his duties.
Downstairs in the kitchen, my tranny slave, Sabrina, was busy with the washing up. She had a habit of getting sexually aroused while performing these basic functions, so I liked to check up on her once in a while to make sure that she wasn’t having too much fun.
I walked up behind her, lifted her skirt and then pulled down her satin knickers. She let out a girlish yell, as I then reached around her body and grabbed hold of her cock. It was far too stiff for my liking, so I led her into the restraining room and tied her up to a pillar.
Sabrina wriggled a lot, as she was being tied up, so her punishment took a lot longer than I had planned it to. By the time the tranny was dealt with, Slave Steve had been alone for almost twenty minutes, so I guess that I should not have been surprised by what I discovered when I went back to him. As I pushed open the bedroom door, I caught him red-handed. He was rifling through the underwear in my dressing table drawer. Far from polishing the dressing table’s surface, as I had commanded him to, it seemed as though he’d spent all the time since I’d left him sniffing my panties and rubbing them up against his skin.
“Sorry, Mistress,” he whimpered at me, before I’d even had time to shout at him.
“You will be sorry, you pathetic cunt!” I screamed straight back at him. “How dare you touch my silken drawers? Your hands are not worthy to finger my beautiful undergarments.”.
“Because I am a compassionate Mistress,” I answered. “You are now going to be punished with the spanking of a lifetime and if you don’t have a little bit of silk between my hand and your buttocks, then I fear that there won’t be anything left of them.”
Unnerved by that, Slave Steve reached for a pair of my knickers, then he pulled them up his legs and over his dick. The knickers made him look like a proper Nancy boy, as did the way that he began to beg for mercy, as he was led across to the bed.
“Silence,” I shouted, as I sat down on the edge of the bed, then made Slave Steve lie across my lap. Submissively, forlornly, he did as I had commanded him to. But soon he must have wished that he had disobeyed me, such was the force of the spanking that I unleashed upon him. In a series of precise, but forceful slaps, I spanked his filthy buttocks. The palm of my hand repeatedly struck the back of the borrowed knickers. Throughout the spanking, I verbally admonished him, never letting him forget the full extent of Mistress’s wrath.
“You worthless cunt! How dare you soil my underwear with your filthy hands? You are utterly beneath contempt. I have never known such disobedience, you feeble shit!”
A heartfelt moan fell from Slave Steve’s lips, as I delivered yet another ferocious blow to his buttocks. The intensity of the moan made it clear to me that he was in some pain, but something else suggested to me that the slave was enjoying his punishment, too. Since he was lying across my lap, he was unable to hide from me the fact that his dick had begun to stiffen. Furious that he should allow something so impertinent to happen, I pulled the silk knickers right the way down, then began to spank his bare behind.
Slave Steve’s cries grew ever more pitiable, as, time and time again, I struck my hand against his quivering flesh. Already, a big red mark had formed on each of his buttocks, but I was determined that by the time that I had finished with him, those marks would have grown to twice their current size. My leather corset and my shiny high-heel shoes were weaving a magic spell upon me, like they always seemed to do. They made me all too aware of just how vastly superior I was to Slave Steve. And I had to make sure he was aware of that, too, by spanking his buttocks to smithereens.
On and on, with increasing force, I beat Slave Steve’s posterior. His screams kept growing louder and his dick began pulsating – two facts that just served to make me even less satisfied with my useless slave.
“You disgusting shit!” I shouted at him, as I geared myself up to deliver the definitive blow. I lifted my hand high above my head and then thwacked it hard into the crack between Slave Steve’s buttocks. His cheeks began to wobble, then he let out a yell, at the end of which his cock began to dribble into my lap.
Never before had I experienced such brazen disrespect from a slave. Slave Steve had dared to ejaculate on my thighs, during what was supposed to have been an act of punishment. Without any verbal warning, I jumped to my feet, knocking him out of my lap. He fell in a wretched heap on the floor, then looked up to see his spunk dripping down my thigh.
“Clean me up,” I said to him, then I watched as Slave Steve pressed his lips against my knee. That was how far the trail of spunk had dribbled down my thigh. He stopped it before it could go any further, then he licked up every last trace of his seed. The uppermost drop of spunk was just a few inches away from my pussy, so I demanded that he continue licking right the way up to my snatch.
“That’s better, slave,” I told him, as he titillated my cunt and clit with his tongue – very pleasurably, I might add. Although his polishing hadn’t been up to much and he’d dared to look in my underwear drawer, it was good to know that there was something else, other than gardening, that he could do to a satisfactory standard. A thick layer of pungent juices quickly formed on the lips of my pussy. I felt my clit start to tense, so I squeezed my hands around the bra cups of my corset. As I dug my fingers into my leather-clad breasts, I achieved an ecstatic release.
Slave Steve groaned with satisfaction, as my juices gushed into his mouth. He kept on licking throughout my climax, determined to prolong my ecstasy for as long as he was able to. I patted his head and thanked him for his attentions, as my cunt just kept on squirting out juice.
It was such a thrill for me to know that I had corrected him successfully – I had caught him doing wrong and he had accepted his punishment, with a minimum of fuss. More than that, he’d been willing to make amends fully, by pleasuring his Mistress in the best possible manner and proved that he could once again be a useful slave to me.
Which he was… As my orgasm faded, I sent him to release Sabrina. I followed him down and then made him suck the tranny’s cock, which had remained rock-solid throughout her restraint. After that, I returned Slave Steve to his gardening duties, while Sabrina went upstairs and completed the cleaning of my boudoir. Mistress’s slaves served her well for the rest of that day. Order was restored to both household and garden. Sabrina even washed and ironed the underwear that Slave Steve had soiled with his touch. Everything was immaculate once more. Mistress was content.