The Last Submissive – Mistress Elisabeth Hunter (17)
Mr.Green Contemplates Not Following His Normal Routine
Lillian and Mistress Hunter departed for the farm in Maryland sometime that Monday while I was at work. For the first time since I had become Mistress Hunter’s slave, I returned home to an empty house. A note on the kitchen counter informed me that Mistress would return late that evening. She left a list of chores—many of them formerly Miss Lilly’s—with instructions that once they were done and I had eaten dinner and showered, I was to lock myself in her bedroom cage.
I finished all the chores and ate in the kitchen, standing for once, then contemplated locking myself in the cage with no one in the house. It was eight p.m. Mistress Hunter might not return until eleven, or even later. What if there were a fire? That unlikely scenario aside, it occurred to me that since I was alone, why should I take my normal cold shower in the mudroom?
Did Mistress Hunter have a video camera installed in her bathroom? Not likely. Dare I risk taking a hot shower in her stall? However, it occurred to me that the absence of a video of me showering in the mud room would be incriminating in itself, should Mistress Hunter decide to review the security tapes.
Should I Lock Myself In The Bedroom Cage Tonight?
Down I went to the mudroom, where I hosed myself off with cold tap water. I made my way upstairs to Mistress Hunter’s bedroom. It felt odd not to enter the room on all fours, but I saw no point. I eyed the brass cage at the foot of her bed. I decided I would lock myself inside, but keep the key handy by the cage door. That way I would comply with the spirit of her instructions. Surely, she wouldn’t fault me for giving myself an escape option, in the event of an emergency.
And what if the phone rang? What if it was Mistress Hunter calling to tell me she wouldn’t return until tomorrow? If I woke in the morning to an empty house, it would be stupid if I were locked in the cage, unable to get to work. Life without Lillian was going to be different. There were a lot of details to work out, holes to fill, new arrangements to be made, even some physiological details like learning to give myself an enema.
Awoken By Mistress Hunter
All of those thoughts paled with the overarching feeling of loneliness that pressed down on me, a heavy weight on my spirit. Lillian was gone, her fate in Mistress Hunter’s hands, an uncertain fate at best. With the cage door closed and padlock locked, I assumed the familiar semi-fetal position, laying on my side. Recollections of Lillian’s nocturnal visit soothed my melancholy, along with the hope that my sperm had found their mark. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
I woke to the staccato sound of the key rattling across the top of the cage. My eyes flew open and with a jolt I ordered my muscles to work and lift me onto all fours. I kept my head down, eyes on the cage floor, feeling Mistress Hunter’s presence hovering over the cage, and waited. “Did you have a nice nap, slave?” “Yes, Mistress.” I wondered what time it was, how long I had slept.
“I’ve been driving for over two hours. My back aches and my muscles are sore.” She inserted the key in the padlock and turned it; I heard the shackle pop free. She removed it, slid the bolt free and pulled the cage door open. “Get out and start a bath for me, slave.” Mistress Hunter sounded tired and peeved.
Mr.Green Get’s Mistress Hunter’s Bath Ready
I scrambled out of the cage on all fours and made my way into the bathroom. At the tub, I turned the gold-trimmed ceramic knobs, mixing some cold water with the hot to keep it from scalding. I added Mistress Hunter’s favorite bath soap to the flow and a froth of white bubbles formed on the steaming surface. When the water reached two-thirds from the top, I closed the knobs and assumed a submissive position next to the tub.
“That’ll do, slave,” Mistress Hunter spoke from above and behind. “Now undress me.” I rose to my feet. Mistress Hunter wore riding clothing, a long-sleeved, pearl-buttoned white blouse, skin-tight black riding pants, and tan leather boots flecked with mud. She held out her arms.
I had never done this before; it was always Miss Lilly’s task to undress Mistress. With trembling fingers, I began to undo the buttons, exposing her lacy white bra and flat stomach, an abdominal groove running from her sternum down her belly. She was as fit as an Olympic athlete.
Lick My Boots
With the blouse open, I unbuttoned her riding pants and unzipped the fly, exposing white panties matching the bra. Only now, I realized I should’ve started with the boots. I stammered, “Would Mistress care to sit on the edge of the tub while I remove her boots?”
She was probably too exhausted to smirk. She lowered herself to the lip of the tub. I grasped the boots, tugging them off with some difficulty. “You will lick these clean once I’m in the tub, slave,” she instructed dismissively. “Yes, Mistress.” She helped me again by standing.
I tugged the riding pants down around her ankles. She stepped clear, and a second later the panties fell to the floor. I collected the garments and put them on the vanity countertop. Now to the blouse. How to get it off? God, I felt like an imbecile. Why hadn’t I watched more closely when Miss Lilly did this?
I Continue To Undress The Beautiful Mistress Hunter
Again, with trembling fingers, I lifted the blouse, slipping it over Mistress Hunter’s broad shoulders, and with a little twisting motion, got her to turn so that I could pull the sleeves down. Fortunately, the clasp of the bra was on the back. I undid it and the bra came free in my hands.
Now Mistress Hunter was completely nude and my cock completely erect . . . somehow, in the sweep of events, I had forgotten to put my cock cage on; it was something Miss Lilly always did after she hosed me down.
My erect member bumped against Mistress Hunter’s exquisitely firm, heart-shaped ass. Before I could back away, she pivoted and grasped it in one hand, the other hand swiftly moving to my throat. “My, my, what do we have here, slave?”
She Owns My Cock
She did not sound at all friendly, or flattered. I was speechless and terrified. “I said, what do we have here, slave?” she demanded, shaking my rock-hard penis like it was an inanimate object sticking out of a wall, a coat peg. “My . . . it’s my cock, Mistress.” “No, slave, it’s MY cock. And why is it not in its cage?” “I forgot, Mistress.”
“You forgot.” I had never seen Mistress Hunter angry before. “And why did you forget, slave?” “Miss Lilly always put it on before, Mistress.” “Miss Lilly always put it on,” she mimicked savagely with a jeering tone. “Well, your darling Miss Lilly isn’t here anymore, is she, slave?” “No, Mistress.”
“Do you want to know where she is, slave?” I hesitated to reply, but found my courage. “Yes, Mistress.” “She’s in a cage, in a barn, on a farm, far away in the Maryland countryside, miles from civilization, under the supervision of my dim-witted but extremely loyal farm manager, Mr. Thompson.” I processed that information, thinking it unlikely Mr. Thompson might think to call the police.
Mistress Hunter’s First Conquest
“Do you wonder why Mr. Thompson is so loyal to me, slave?” Good question. “Yes, Mistress.” Mistress Hunter’s eyes softened, her grip on my throat slackened. “Mr. Thompson has known me since I was a child. He worships the ground I walk on. Guess when he became my slave.”
Her question was not really a question, more of a verbal dart thrown between my eyes. “I . . . I don’t know, Mistress,” I stammered in reply. “When I was nineteen.” I could easily imagine an adoring farmhand falling under the thrall of Mistress Hunter at that age. She would have been like a spirited racehorse, a mustang, bold and impetuous, heady with the power that her sexuality held over men. For a young woman with dominant leanings . . . Mr. Thompson was probably her first conquest.
“I see, Mistress.” “No, you don’t, but you will understand in time, Mr. Green.” She released my throat and my cock and turned her back, settling into the steaming water with a sigh. I watched her like the imbecile I am, not thinking to get down on my hands and knees.
Mr. Green Must Be Punished For His Forgetfulness
She glanced up at me wearily. “Mr. Green, it seems you have completely forgotten your training. We’ll have to start over tomorrow, beginning with punishment to remind you of the consequences of your forgetfulness and lack of initiative. Just because Miss Lilly has gone doesn’t excuse you from doing all the things she did for you and trained you to do . . . is that understood?”
I bowed my head in shame. “Yes, Mistress.” She gave my still-erect member a sharp downward tug. “For now, get down on all fours and lick my boots clean. They better be spotless when I’ve finished my bath.” I did as she ordered, dropped down next to the tub and collected her boots, only now realizing that the bottoms were caked with thick clots of mud. I put out my tongue and began licking.
Next: The Retraining Of A Slave
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