The Reluctant Mistress and Her Unexpected Transition Part 11

The Reluctant Mistress and Her Unexpected Transition Part 11

Danny called work and took a personal day off, and so did I. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that came to me the instant I held the signed contract. I realized we had many steps and a lot of ground to cover in order to put the agreement in force. I wanted to get started on our new living arrangement. It needed to be real, and my slave needed to know it.

Mistress

The first thing I had Danny do was to give me his wallet. I had him kneel before me in the kitchen, not prostrated but upright, so that he could see what I was doing. His erection was magnificent, almost perpendicular to his body in spite of the weight of the cock cage.

I ignored his hard-on and pulled out the contents of his wallet: faded slips of paper with phone numbers (resisting the temptation to ask about old girlfriends), four ancient Powerball lottery tickets (that was his retirement plan?), his driver’s license, a car rental membership club card, health insurance and dental cards, two credit cards, a bank debit card, and $68 in cash—three twenties, a five and three singles. I found an old parking ticket folded in with a nest of faded credit card receipts.

I put the driver’s license, medical and dental cards back in the wallet, cut up the credit and debit cards under his nose, and threw everything in the trash can except the cash and the parking ticket.

I dangled two twenty dollar bills in front of him, then tucked them into the pocket of the wallet. “This will be your weekly allowance, slave . . . spend it wisely.”

Allowance

He had a deer-in-headlights look. “Yes, Mistress.”

I held out the parking ticket with the remaining $28 cash. “You’re going to pay this parking ticket today out of this money and your allowance. You’ll do it in person, at city hall, while I watch.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now before I have you get dressed and we start running errands, I want to clarify a few rules about misconduct and punishment for infractions. Get in position while I explain, slave.”

Danny dropped down, prostrating himself at my feet.

“Okay, I have decided upon a system of demerits . . . for every demerit you accumulate, you will receive a spank in punishment, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“So let’s run through the list of infractions.”

I pulled out an unused 4 x 6” spiral-bound notebook I had found in the junk drawer. My first official Mistress Demerit Book. I continued, “Yesterday you walked in the door three minutes late. That’s three demerits. Slave, you would be wise to set your watch to the clocks in this house. I expect you to be prompt, understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Next infraction. Yesterday I left a note on the kitchen counter, telling you to leave the survey on the counter, and your clothes folded neatly on the floor. You put the envelope on top of your clothing, not on the counter. Not a major crime in itself, but it’s the principle that’s important here. When I give you instructions, I expect you to follow them explicitly, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s three more demerits . . . you’re up to six.”

Mistress

I moved to the third item I had jotted down. “Next infraction. When I correct something you’ve said, like yesterday, when I corrected you, ‘That’s an understatement, Mistress,’ then the proper response is not, ‘Yes, Mistress’ . . . the proper response is—” I looked down and noticed drops of pre-cum on the tile under Danny’s cock. “Back up and lick that cum off the floor, slave.”

Danny shifted back a few feet until his lips were over the drops. He reached down with his tongue and lapped up the offending puddles.

“Okay, back to correct verbal responses. When I correct you, I expect you to repeat back, in full, the correction exactly as I have spoken it, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Three more demerits.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And if you have any doubts about my instructions, or they seem illogical to you, I don’t want you to be a robot, I don’t want you to say ‘Yes, Mistress’ when you are confused. You have my permission to ask if you may speak, in order to get a clarification or to make a statement. You will do this by saying, ‘Mistress, may I speak?’ Now let’s practice, go ahead and ask.”

“Mistress, may I speak?”

“No, you may not, slave.”

There was a long silence as my dumb bunny slave processed this response. I gave him some help. “Slave, you have my permission to ask to speak, but that doesn’t mean I will let you. If I don’t want to hear what you have to say, then that ends the conversation as far as your concerned. Got it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Back to demerits. How many are we up to?”

He had to think a moment. “Six?”

I sighed. I realized I was going to have to make an allowance for Danny being a little slow when he was in sub space. The only problem was he was going to be in sub space 24/7 for the next six months. “No, slave, we were up to nine, three for being late, three for not following instructions, and three for not properly correcting a verbal infraction. And now, three more. Do you know why, slave?”

Mistress

Silence.

“No, Mistress.”

Poor thing, this must be hard. I gave Danny a light slap on the cheek, barely more than a tap of my fingertips on the side of his oh-so-handsome face. “Pay attention, slave. Focus. You can do better than this. When you replied to me, you said, ‘Six,’ not ‘Six, Mistress.’ You will always reply to me completely and respectfully, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now pay attention, think carefully before you answer. How many demerits are we up to now?”

It took him a second, but he got it right. “Twelve, Mistress.”

“Very good.” I caressed the nape of his neck and down his spine, rewarding him. His back arched in response to my touch, like a dog being petted. It occurred to me that neither of us had eaten anything yet. I continued, “Okay, so we are up to twelve, and then there’s the parking ticket, but that’s a more serious infraction and we’ll deal with it later. So that’s a total of twelve demerits for now, and I will always administer punishments at the first opportunity. You know what to do, right?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Danny crawled over and retrieved the spanking chair, then drug it to my feet.

I took off my jacket, hung it over the seatback, and sat down, smoothing my skirt. Then thought of Danny dripping cum on my beautiful tangerine skirt occurred to me. I reached over and snagged a dry towel from the cabinet next to the sink. I spread it over my skirt. “Take your position, slave.”

We went through the spanking routine, in groups of three. Before each set, I announced the reason for the punishment. “These are for being late,” “These are for not following instructions,” “These are for not repeating verbal corrections,” “These are for not addressing Mistress properly.” To his credit, Danny focused and got the responses correctly. When we were done, his ass was red and my hand stung.

“Okay, slave, get back in position on the floor.”

Mistress

Danny slid off my lap and assumed the position. I tore out the first sheet in my demerit book and let him see me toss it into the garbage can. “These are forgotten, and you are forgiven, slave. You now have a clean slate . . . that is, other than the parking ticket. Now we’re going to have a quick bowl of cereal for breakfast and then you’ll get dressed.”

I poured raisin bran into two bowls, added sliced banana and milk, reminding myself I needed to go to the store and get another carton of milk. I set Danny’s bowl on the floor and watched him slurp up his breakfast like a dog while I stood over him, spooning cereal into my mouth. As we ate, a half-dozen new rules of the house occurred to me, but one in particular demanded attention.

When we he had finished his cereal, I took Danny’s bowl and put it in the sink with mine. “Now sit up, slave.” His face was covered with milk. My dear, adorable pet. “Wipe your mouth.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I lifted his folded clothes off the kitchen counter. “You may stand now, slave. Carry these into the bathroom and get dressed.”

Danny rose to his feet. He extended his arms to take the bundle of clothes. I handed it to him, but didn’t let go. “There’s a new rule for the bathroom, slave, in case you have to go pee. From this moment forward, you will always sit down on the toilet and pee like a girl, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I don’t think you understand, slave. This is not just a house rule; this is a slave rule. In the future, whether you are here, or at your apartment, or at work, or anywhere else—even a ball game or a truck stop on the side of the road, you will not stand up to pee. You will go into a stall and sit down on the toilet, and pee like girl. Am I perfectly clear about this?”

The look in Danny’s eyes was priceless. He stood there, frozen in place, his male brain calculating the implications of what I had just said. He nodded once. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Welcome to my world, slave. Now go, get dressed. We have a long list of errands to do today.”

I watched Danny retreat into the bathroom. He had no idea what was ahead of him. Having to sit down to go pee was the least of his worries.

Next Episode: The Price of Submission

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