The Reluctant Mistress and Her Unexpected Transition Part 4
Normally I do the dishes while Danny watches TV in the living room. All that was about to change. After a delightful supper, we cleared the table, stacking the dishes in the sink. Mistress’s sink is stainless-steel, a double-bowl; dirty dishes on the left, drying rack on the left. I put my hands around Danny’s waist, drawing him close. “Danny dear, get on your hands and knees, please,” I said.
He hesitated for an instant, then got down on the tile floor. I looked at him kneeling there prostrate on the floor, thinking that I had to come up with a less wordy command. ‘Get in position’ came to mind. Only three words; I liked it. For now, I had him where I wanted him. “You may kiss my feet.”
He kissed them just as he had before, tenderly. I could tell he liked doing it. So, a foot fetish, too. “Danny, my love . . . from now on you will be doing the dishes, understood?”
He looked up, not exactly happy. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Don’t give me that look.”
That pout he gave when he was bothered had always bothered me. So now, born of a hint of anger, I had an inspiration. “Slave, go upstairs and get the shopping bag from Tractor Supply.”
Danny rose to his feet. Upstairs he went, a short pause, then his footfall sounded down the stairs. He reported back to me with the bulging plastic bag in hand.
“Okay, now strip down naked.”
He dutifully peeled off his clothes, seeming a little put out, but his cock grew hard before my eyes. There is a white painted chair under the triangle shelf in the corner that I use as a mini-office, stacking incoming mail. A junk drawer underneath. Above it, I have a wall phone (yes, I still have a land line) and a cork board for post-it notes. I motioned to the chair. “Bring the chair over here, please.”
He collected the chair and placed it in front of me. I sat primly on the wicker seat and motioned to him with my forefinger. “Now lie face-down on my lap.”
He looked at me, positively aghast. This was in the kitchen, not the bedroom, and it wasn’t sex play, it was clearly punishment. But he did as he was ordered, bent over my lap and waited, his pert white ass pointing up at the ceiling.
I lifted my right hand and gave him a firm swat. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
I swatted him again. “Why am I spanking you, Danny?”
“Because I hesitated, Mistress.”
Another swat. “Not just that. Because you pouted. No more pouting—ever—understood? If I tell you to do something, I want you to do it with a happy face. Got it?” I sounded mad, and I was a little.
Contritely, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Now I’m going to give you seven more spanks, and I want you to count them and thank me.”
I cupped my hand and smacked his right cheek.
He flinched. “One . . . thank you Mistress.”
Dumb slave. “No, that’s the fourth spank, start from four, or we’ll start over.”
I spanked him on the left check, hard. He winced. “Four, thank you, Mistress.”
How red can it get?
Better. I spanked him to the count of ten, his ass growing red. When we had finished, I ordered him to get back down on the tile on all fours. “Danny, from now on, when I want you to get on your hands and knees, I’m going to tell you ‘Get in Position,’ understood?”
“And if I call you ‘slave’ at any time, I expect instant obedience.” I fished into the plastic bag for the dog collar. It was black leather, with a steel buckle and D-ring for the leash. “Sit up, slave.”
Danny sat up, his cock at rigid attention. Clearly this wasn’t sub abuse; he loved it. And the truth is, I was getting off on it as well. Better yet, I had a dishwasher, something I had dreamed about for years.
Oh the Possibilities
Endless possibilities of forced labor ran through my head; weeding the overgrown back fence and raking up leaves, for starters. But for now, I had an idea to seal the arrangement.
“Danny, this is your slave collar. You’ll wear it whenever you’re inside this house, unless I specifically tell you you’re released.” I pointed to the junk drawer. That’s where we’ll keep it. I want you to put it on when you come in the door.” I smiled. “Now, kiss your collar, slave.”
He puckered his lips and smooched the collar. I looped it around his neck. I’ve walked enough dogs to know to leave two fingers’ space; I found the right hole in the leather, inserted the pin, then slid the free end through the buckle. I have to say, it looked nice on him. Went well with his hard-on.
“Okay, my pet, now back to the subject at hand. From now on, you’ll be doing the dishes. I expect you to clean both sides, dry them thoroughly so there is not even a hint of water spots, and put them carefully away. Do you think you can do that?”
“Good. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done.”
His face brightened.
“Knock on the door, then crawl in on your hands and knees, understood?”
His eyes flared. I think he was just now realizing just how all-encompassing this might be.
“Now get to work.”
I scooped his clothes off the floor, collected my laptop and headed for the bedroom, filled with erotic ideas. I had some BDSM research to do, and maybe a little internet shopping, too. While Danny did the dishes, I was going to get another three steps ahead of him. And then I was going to get laid.