The price of selfishness


Well, maybe I didn’t want you to clean the kitchen, did you
think about that?

If you’re left without orders all day, you should just stand
in the corner waiting, shouldn’t you?  I
was only out for eight hours. 

We can’t have you deciding to do things by yourself, just
because you think they might please me. 
Can we?

Can we?

That’s right.

That’s why we decided you wouldn’t have any money any more,
isn’t it?  Because you were spending it
all on silly presents for me.  It’s so
much better now I can buy things I want.

You can say ‘Yes Maria’ at this point.

I’m not going to have this sort of selfish and
self-indulgent behaviour any more.  It’s
not your place to decide for yourself how to please me, is it?

No.

 
Now on this occasion, it’s just possible that I forgot to
tell you to clean the kitchen, and I did want it done.  But that’s not the point.  So now I want you to spend the next hour or
so rubbing dirt from the rubbish bin all over the floor, and letting some old
food congeal on the plates.  Then you can
clean it again overnight.

Say thank you, Maria!

That’s better.

Taking his name


Oh – there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, about
the wedding.  You see,  Alan and I have agreed that I’ll take his
surname, when I’m his wife.  So your
brand will be wrong – I’ll be EMR, not EMW. 
We’re going to have you have you branded again.

Yes, I know.  If it’s
any consolation, I think it’s a bit unnecessary too.  When I told Alan your branded initials would
be wrong, I was really just making a light-hearted comment.  I didn’t think he’d insist on changing
them.  But you know what he’s like.

Hmm?

Yes, that’s the problem. 
I mean, you just can’t brand a R over a W. 
It wouldn’t look right.  I tried on paper, and it just always looked really forced.  So we’ll
burn a blank over to erase your old one completely, and then have EMR freshly branded
underneath.

Sure – you’ll have a kind of blank rectangle burnt into your
skin.  But that’s OK.  Alan doesn’t mind.  The main thing is you’ll have your new brand just under.

 

 

Oh stop crying. 
You’re lucky you’re not getting EMR-W!  That would be even more painful, wouldn’t it? 
I’d suggested hyphenating our last names.  But Alan’s a bit old fashioned.  Doesn’t really believe in feminism.  So, I’ll be EMR, and it’ll say that on my credit cards and my passport – and on your left buttock.  Actually, I’m kind of glad he insisted.  It makes me feel very secure, as if by carrying his name around with me I’m holding his hand.  I know it’s not very feminist, but I’m just not a very feminist girl, really.  Alan’s made me realise that.    That’s one of the reasons I love him, actually.

What?  No, of course we can’t do EMW-R!  Alan got cross enough when I suggested hyphenating with his name first!  He’s not going to have you branded with my initial first, is he?  Honestly, you can be so insensitive sometimes! 

You’re getting away lightly at the moment, anyway, you know.  I’m just waiting for him to realise that all our property
belongs to both of us.  If he
does, maybe he’ll want his initials on you too. 
But he hasn’t said anything yet, so fingers crossed – OK?  Just our little secret. I know it really hurts, so I don’t want you to have to face any more irons than absolutely necessary, OK?

Sure.  I won’t say a thing.

Oh – and Alan left some shirts to be ironed – and he wants his shoes polished.  Something else to get used to, I guess!  It’s going to be strange for you, having a man to run around after as well as me.  Strange for both of us – I’ll have to get used to not being the only one in charge.  You know he’s already offered to spank you, if I’m too tired some time?

Stop your sobbing


She’s very particular about the gardening – that’s why she has them whipped so often.  She’s very particular about sex too, but then as her husband you know that already don’t you?
 

 

It must be very difficult for her, being trapped in a sexless marriage like that.  Still, she could probably play around a bit.  I mean, it’s only fair.  And who knows – maybe one day they’ll find the key.
 
 
 
She did make a particular point of how cruel and heartless she was in the advert, to be fair.
 
 

 

Women, eh?  There’s always one more thing, isn’t there?
 
 

 

Pesky Geneva Convention. 

So bandwagon!  Much out-of-date meme.  Many comic sans (sorry Steve!).

It’s uncanny

I was using a thesaurus to look up synonyms for the word ‘impotent’ (I read somewhere it’s not a good idea to repeat precisely the same language in successive lonely hearts ads), and I read the following:

 Impotent:
  • helpless

  • inadequate
  • incapable
  • incompetent
  • ineffective
  • ineffectual
  • inept
  • paralyzed
  • powerless
  • sterile
  • unproductive

It’s almost as if the thesaurus compilers had met me.  The power of words, eh?  But enough of that, let’s turn to the power of dominant women, because that’s what you came here for, right?

Everyone should have a hobby.  I have several.



I think that although ‘the overall parameters’ might originally have been consensual, it’s probably not a good idea to try to renegotiate those now, either.
 
 

 

Oh dear.  I think this Chuck sounds a bit overbearing, don’t you?  Maybe you should have a word.
 
 
 
It’s silly to think she’s denied you a last orgasm.  I mean, you had a last orgasm already, right?

 

 

 

 
It’s good to do things together, as a family.

Crossover


Hi there!  Listen, have you ever thought about how it must be for porn stars who aren’t in the femdom ‘scene’ who do an occasional femdom shoot?

I don’t mean those porn stars who just don’t have a clue about femdom – who pose around in some bit of leather or holding a whip, before getting naked and screwing some guy.

No, I mean girls who can do femdom properly – but just not very often.  By ‘properly’ I mean just punishing the guy and demeaning him and stuff like that.  And never letting him fuck her. 

Me, for example.  Hi!  This is me doing a spanking scene.



Exciting isn’t it?  And you can get on over to Clare Spanks Men and get more of that.  Servitor did and he’s hardly able to walk for wanking so hard.  Here’s another:



Stern, aren’t I?  But I’m not a domme.  I’m a mainstream porn star.  See – this is also me.  Actually, this is the sort of thing I spend more of my time doing than the ‘stern’ thing:



Or this…



And there are some even more revealing pictures out there – of me naked, or me having sex.  Videos too!  Vaginal, anal, oral.  A lot of oral…my lips lovingly wrapped around fat, veined cock.  But the little submissive who runs this blog isn’t allowed to show pictures like that.  They’re only for real men, you see.

And that, in a nutshell, is my point.  You can fantasise about my being some stern governess type if you like, or a hard-ass fitness trainer like this:



or a stern boss:



…and if that was the only thing I ever did, like a lot of spanking models and dommes, maybe that would be OK.  Of course I’m unapproachable, of course I’m an ice maiden, of course I don’t have the slightest interest in you as a man or in the thing in your pants, except as a possible cause of your habitual disobedience and thoughtlessness.  Of course – because I’m dominant and you’re submissive.

(Did you enjoy that? I was belittling and humiliating you.  You creepy little guy) 

Maybe you’d think that at the end of the shoot, I give a cheerful couple of extra spanks, and at weekends I go off to fetish parties with my friends in the scene.  Then it’s not so embarrassing to fantasise about my spanking you, is it?

But!  But but but, how much more humiliating is it to know that when I’m not behaving like that in the shoots and videos you fantasise to, I’m behaving like this on other sites?



…or even like this:

 
(yes, the panties do keep coming down.  But only on sites for real men.  So you don’t get to see anything more.)


Or even this – I think I can just about allow Servitor to post this one, although it’s not enormously deferential to what you submissive little creeps consider the superior sex:



and there’s more.  I fuck, I suck, I cum…you know, I do the normal things that normal guys want porn stars to do. 

…but having seen all that – and knowing that I will and do ‘put out’ for men who can actually cope with that sort of thing – how do you think I feel about this guy?


(Do you think when I’ve finished smacking this guy’s ass, I push him off and breathe out heavily and say – oh wow, baby!  That was fucking wild!  No. I don’t.  Because I’m treating him like a fucking naughty boy, not a lover, not a man.)


..or this one:


(Do I look like I’m in a state of sexual arousal in this picture?  Feel free to refer to some of my non-pervert photos further up, if you’re unsure about the answer).


And…finally (because although I’m sure you’re not tired of pictures of me, I’m certainly tired of talking to you) how do you think I feel about you?  About the ‘men’ who get more turned on by my shouting fully clothed at some little wimp before putting him over my lap, than you do by my fucking some stud of a guy?

How do you think I feel about you?

Knowing, that while this – and more – is readily available online to men who get turned on by real sex…




 
(well, I can’t really show little pansies like you the full scene you understand, but here’s a couple of scenes cropped so you can only see my face. You have to imagine what  else is going on.)


…and there are plenty where that big wide open mouth of mine is full, too.  Not for you, though.

But the only use of my mouth and tongue you’re going to get is to scold you.  Like a naughty child:


…and this is the closest you’re ever going to get to between my legs:



I’m a real woman and I like to fuck real men.  So much, I’ve made a career out of it.  Men all over the world fantasise about me going to bed with them, fucking them, sucking their cocks… And you are… what?  Fantasising about the big strong Australian girl with the muscular thighs smacking your bottom and telling you off as you lie across her lap.  Pathetic.

Humiliated?  You deserve it.

The part of the porn star in this tale was played by the astonishing Gigi Allens.  All these photos are of her, and I think we can agree that she is indeed an example of that very rare breed: a mainstream model and porn star who really can dominate.  I have no idea if her opinion about that – and about us- is as presented here.  But you know… it just might be.
 
All domination photos are from Clare Spanks Men.  Try it – if enough of you do, they might forgive me for using so many of their photos.  It’s good, anyway.  
 
The vanilla photos are from all over the place, so don’t even ask.  You shouldn’t be looking for that sort of smut anyway.





At the hairdressers



Hi honey!

What?  Oh, my poor embarrassed baby!  You haven’t been worrying about that all day,
have you, honey?

Listen – if that’s what makes you feel sexy, it’s fine with
me, OK?  But I just need you to wash the trainers
out each time you do it, before I use them again, that’s all.

Oh, really?  Well, honey, you know
I run every day, so I guess they’ll get stinky again pretty quickly, won’t they?
Not stinky enough?  Awww… I’m sorry honey.  But you know, it’s not nice for me when I want to go for a run, if you’ve spurted all over the inside, see, and –


Oh – hey!  I just had
a brilliant idea.  Why don’t we keep an
old pair of my trainers for you to come in? 
You could sniff the pair 
I’m using as much as you like, but then when you jerk off you’d do it into one of the old ones.  Then I
wouldn’t have to worry about finding my new trainers all sticky! 


Yeah?  That works?

Oh – if I force you, huh?  Honey, you’re really pretty kinky aren’t you!  Sure – I can force you.  I’ll tie your hands behind your back and force your face down onto my stinky trainers with my foot – how about that?

Yeah – I thought you’d like that.  Or I could tie you to the bed and leave one over your face all night. Yeah, you betta believe it.  All night, honey.  Not in my bed, obviously.  I’m not sleeping with a smelly old trainer in the bed.  But I can put you in the guest bedroom.

What’ll I do?  Oh, I’ll be OK.  No, really. It’s OK honey.   
I mean, it’s not like our sex life was great anyway and – oh, I’m not
blaming you, honey!  It’s not your fault
you’re so small.  But I think we’ll both
be happier if you don’t have to try to please me in bed any more.  I was thinking anyway of telling you not to bother – I mean, it just makes you all embarrassed and ashamed, and it does nothing for me so –

Hmm?  No honey, that’s
just Mario talking.  I’m at the
hairdressers.

Not these, honey.  These are mine, OK?

Well of course he heard, honey, but don’t be silly about it. 
Mario wouldn’t say a thing. 
Hairdressers know how to keep secrets – don’t you Mario?  Anyway, I told him weeks ago about our wedding
night, so he already knows half the story.
Well sure, honey.  About all the condoms being too big to stay on and how you had to ask at the hotel reception for extra small and all that.  He was really sympathetic, even though he’s never had the problem himself.  Just the opposite, actually.
What? Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that, honey.  Just talking nonsense.  I do when I’m at the hairdresser’s.  Listen, anyway, we need to get my trainers cleaned up.  If you won’t wash them, then I guess you’re going to have to lick it out, aren’t you?  Yes, now, honey.  You got them there? OK, well you’re going to have to put the phone down to get your face right in there and lick it all out, OK?

Oh – hang on!  Before you hang off, my old trainers are in the closet by the kitchen door, OK?  Those are what you use for playing with yourself, honey, not the new ones!  I mean it!

That’s right.  OK, honey, have a good time.  I’ll be back quite late – maybe not until nine or so.  I’m having some complicated hair treatments today.  I expect you’ll find something to amuse yourself with until I’m back.  Won’t you?

Bye!

See honey?  This is where you’ll be making love from now on.  You’ll always have a choice between two sexy lovers who’ll never tell you you’re too small, and they don’t mind how quickly you come!  Do you wanna give them names?  I think you should give them names.

Hurtful things

…and he’s good for relieving my… tension!
 

 

Oh well.  At least you no longer have all that awful responsibility of making sure you’re keeping within the distance.  You can be fairly sure it’ll be no more than four feet.  Always.
 

 

I don’t want to think about this.
 

 

Fucking off is something I’ve always been really good at.  All the girls would agree.
 

 

We used to talk about my cock quite a lot, in the early days of our marriage.  But ‘gorgeous’ wasn’t one of the words she used. 

For old times’ sake 2


Oh hi!  Wow – it’s
really you!  When I saw the email from the agency,
I thought it must be someone else with the same name.  After all this time!
It’s so great to see you again!  Because, you know, I often think I never really thanked you enough
for giving me a chance in your startup. 
I mean, you were like this tech guru?  The big boss!  And I was just an intern!  And now look at me – you know how much I got
for the IPO?  $146m!  It’s kinda crazy. 
What a shame you had to leave the company
over that sexual harassment suit, just before we did the deal with Apple.  I really didn’t want to tell the investigators anything you know – none of the girls did.  I mean, except Julie, obviously.  But, you know, there was this really mean lawyer and I had to sign a thing saying I was committing the crime of perjury if I said anything untrue in my statement, so… you know.  Had to kind of tell them all about it.  But I cried about it that night.  And we didn’t speak to Julie again.
Hmm?  No, she moved away.  Bought like her own island in the Caribbean, or something.  So you needn’t worry about running into her too!

Still, it’s good to see you’re still in work.  And I’m so pleased I can help by being a
client!  Because really, you know, I owe
all of this to you.  I mean, it was your product.  Even if you signed away your rights to it, I expect you still feel some kind of ownership, huh?

So – why don’t you start in the bathroom?  You’ve got all your mops and sponges and
things?  Great.  Well, you get started.  I’m going to play tennis today – I have to go now, actually – but I
think you’re on a ten-hour shift? 
Great.  So we’ll have time to
catch up.

Oh – in the bathroom, we have these granite tiles?  With little gaps between them?  You should use a little wire brush for
those.  There’s one in the utility
closet, if you don’t have one with you.

Oh – yeah, and we only use natural cleaning products?  No chemicals, all through the house.  You have to work a bit harder to get a shine, but we think the planet’s a bit more important!  And if it takes you a bit longer, you get paid more don’t you?

Don’t you?  Oh.  Well, we have to pay the agency by the hour.

Oh.  That’s mean.  OK.  Well, maybe I can give you a little extra, OK?  The agency said not to, but if it’s just a few dollars, I don’t see the harm in it.  If you do a good job!


See you later!

Cashless society

A silly little tale.  But could it happen in reality?  You decide.

Sometimes Dennis wished he’d been born a hundred years
before.  ‘I mean, what was wrong with
just using money anyway?’ he asked himself furiously, as the line in front of
him to the check-out slowly shortened. 
Or cheques, he thought.  I could
really be good with cheques.  Just sign
your name – done.

The man in front of him reached the checkout desk.  He wasn’t buying much – just a couple of
pairs of socks.  Dennis, in contrast, was
laden down with clothes of all descriptions. He tried to buy as much as he
could each time.

“That’s £8.25, thank you sir.” he heard the shop assistant
say.  “If you’d like to just place your
penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Dennis surreptitiously glanced past the man’s broad back, to
see a large pink object being deposited in the half-cylinder on the counter,
with an audible thwack.  After a few
seconds, there was a quiet ‘beep’ and the penis was put back inside the man’s trousers and he zipped up.  A small green light was winking on the device
on the counter, with two red lights beside it. 
Two red lights! Dennis stared with horror.  The WR-20s only had one red light.  This must be one of the new VC8000
models!  He’d only come to this shop
because he was confident it still used WR-20s. 
At least those usually worked after the third or fourth try.

He considered running, but it was too late.  The man in front had taken his socks and
gone, and the sales assistant was smiling vacantly at him.

“All these is it?  Do
you have a storecard with us at all?”

Dennis shook his head sullenly as he wondered why sales
assistants all had that strange way of speaking. 
Why put emphasis on the ‘have’? 
And what on earth is ‘at all’ supposed to mean in that context?

But he couldn’t distract his mind for long from his
impending fate, and soon enough the assistant was saying “That’ll be £458.75
altogether, please.  If you’d like to
just place your penis into the scanner for ID verification.”

Taking a deep breath, Dennis opened his flies and pushed
himself as hard as he could against the edge of the counter.  His penis, looking smaller and more
shrivelled even than usual, just managed to cover the first inch or so of the
VC8000’s black length. Nothing happened.

“Just be a moment” the shop assistant said, apparently to
the air beside her.  “Sometimes it’s a
bit temperamental.”  They waited a bit
longer.

Eventually, she seemed to snap out of her shop assistant
trance and notice that something wasn’t right. 
She pressed an elegantly manicured finger to a button on the side of the
VC8000.  Three red lights flashed angrily
in response.

“I’ve never seen it do that before.” she said,
uncertainly.  “Maybe we could try another
– “

“My penis is too small to activate the scanner”, Dennis
said, very fast and low.  “Please – it’s
OK, you can take a manual ID verification instead.  You’ve done it before.”

“Eh?” the assistant replied. 
“Shall we try another scanner?”

Dennis swore inside. 
“No” he said through gritted teeth. 
“My penis is too small to activate the scanner.  It won’t work in any of them.”

“Oh.” the assistant said, looking a bit worried.  She turned to the lady next to her and spoke
in a singsong conversational voice: “Gentleman says his penis is too small to
activate the scanner, Mrs Dawes.”

The older lady looked dismissive.  “Oh no – just shove it a bit further up.  They’re very good these days.”

“Could you shove it a bit further up for me?” the assistant
asked brightly, and Dennis made a show of pressing his groin even more firmly
against the edge of the counter.  Christ,
his balls hurt.  The base of his penis
moved perhaps two millimetres further onto the counter.  The skin wrinkled ever so slightly, the tip
moved not at all.

Now several of the sales staff were involved, standing
around and staring at the problem. Dennis didn’t dare turn around to see how
many customers were in the queue behind him, but he could hear some shuffling
feet and the occasional ‘tsk!’.

One of the ladies looked up and called right across the shop
“MISS MARKHAM!  GENTLEMAN’S PENIS IS TOO
SMALL TO ACTIVATE THE SCANNER!”  Dennis
felt as if he would die.

A tall blonde lady, dressed all in black strode over.  Dennis estimated her age as mid-thirties and her attitude as lethal.  She fixed him with a
cool stare.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

“Well, Miss Markham, the gentleman…” began one of the
younger assistants.

“I asked the gentleman here!” Miss Markham snapped, giving
her a murderous look. “Well?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

 

“My er,…” Dennis began, staring shamefacedly down.  He looked up and into the most piercing blue
eyes he had ever seen.  She was holding a
pen, which she started to tap steadily against her clipboard.  Her lips pursed.

“Small penis problem, is it?”

“Erm, yes.  You see I
-“

“You have a penis that is too small to function properly,
that is all I need to see” Miss Markham snapped back.  Several of the sales staff tittered.

“But if you can’t verify your identity, I’m afraid we’ll
have to deal with you as a criminal” Miss Markham went on, the merest hint of a
smile on her ruby lips.  I’ll have to
take you off to our holding room and investigate the matter thoroughly.”  One perfectly lacquered fingernail pushed
firmly against the clip holding the papers to her clipboard, forcing it all the
way down and then letting it snap back with savage force.
 

“Unless of course, you can produce an adequately sized penis
right here and now” she went on. 
“Adequate for ID verification purposes that is. I hardly think that it
would ever be suitable for anything else.”

She leaned forward to whisper in Dennis’s ear.

“And I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.  Please pass on my condolences to your
wife.  You might want to let her know
that our ladies department has a line of very discrete vibrators.  They come in lots of different sizes… all a
lot bigger than that.”
(Yes, I know this scene has nothing to do with the story.  But isn’t she wonderful?)
 

“The gentleman was saying as how he could manually – “
Dennis’s original assistant ventured, but Miss Markham just held her gaze to
his in silence.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary” she murmured.

They looked down. 
Dennis’s penis was no longer resting on the VC8000.  On the contrary, it seemed to have become
self-supporting, waving uncertainly an inch or so above the scanner.  It had also become at least an inch longer.

Miss Markham smiled and lowered her clipboard, concealing
the awful sight and firmly pressing Dennis’s cock down onto the black plastic
surface.  He gasped with shock and
pleasure.

There was a quiet beep and a light turned green.

Epilogue

Dennis’s wife, Mary came home to a room full of bags and
boxes.  “Oh darling!” she gasped.  “Whatever have you been buying?”

“Anything I like!” Dennis replied, proudly.  “Well, as long as it’s available at De
Lacey’s – but they sell everything under one roof, so why would that matter?”

“Oh darling!”, Mary remarked again (as ladies on this blog
are inclined to do).  “But, erm… what
about paying for them?  You know – your
little problem?”

“Not a problem any more!” Dennis beamed.  He had a sudden thought “Oh – and I got you
this.”

He handed her a gift-wrapped package and stood back.

“For me?” she asked. 
“Oh you shouldn’t have”.  And
quickly she unwrapped the ribbon and paper to reveal a long cardboard box.  She gently eased off the lid, to expose a
long, plastic object nestling on crepe paper inside.

“Oh darling” she said, running her finger lightly along its
length, gently stroking the ribbing, resting the tip on the buttons at the base.  “My
sweet, silly darling.”

“Did you think I didn’t have one already?”
 
 
 

In this absurd story, the part of Miss Markham was played by the fabulous Mistress Eleise de Lacey.  When I started writing the story, she wasn’t involved but she just arrived halfway through, and took over.

However, no resemblance of the characters to any person living or dead is intended.  Except the character of Dennis, who is very precisely based upon Servitor in all significant, and several insignificant, respects.

High achiever

Listen – I’ve been thinking. It must be really boring and demotivating for you, just doing your household duties all day long. Just drudgery for 14 hours a day – for the rest of your life, really, with no prospect of ever moving on to anything more rewarding.
So I was thinking maybe you needed more incentives to keep at it and do a good job for me!
No honey, calm down. I don’t mean I’m going to punish you more. I mean, sure, being whacked on your sore old bottom with my paddle probably gives you a pretty strong incentive not to mess up. But it’s still only a negative incentive – when you do a bad job. I was thinking you need positive incentives to do a good job!
No, not that kind of positive incentive, honey. I don’t let you do that any more, remember?
So, anyway, I had this brilliant idea! Achievements!
Achievements, honey. Like in video games?
Oh yeah, I forgot. You’ve been a few years in my service now, haven’t you? They probably didn’t have achievements when you were still free to do fun stuff like computer games.
Well, ‘achievements’ are like bonuses for doing extra things in the game or doing really well. You have to meet a certain set of conditions and then you get awarded the achievement! Like ‘Kill 100 orcs with bladed weapons’ and then maybe you’d get an achievement called “Orc-cleaver” or something, you know?
Well, no, you don’t get anything else, honey. Just the achievement. But it gives you something to work towards, you see? I think it’s perfect for you! I was so pleased when I thought of it. I guess I’m channelling my inner geek girl.

What’s that honey? No, of course you don’t have a choice. And if I don’t see you working towards your achievements, we’ll just have to try more of the negative incentives, won’t we?
That’s better. OK, here’s your first list of achievements. Don’t try to work towards all of them at once. Just pick a few –some are harder than others. Once you get all these, I’ll do you another list, OK?

Tight fit: perform a day’s work in a corset tightened three inches narrower than usual.
 
Ironic: Iron more than 50 items of clothing in a single day.

Irony: Iron more than 100 items of clothing in one day.

Bad maids get spanked: Admit to a fault that leads to a spanking.

Bad maids get paddled: Admit to a fault that leads to a paddling.

Bad maids get caned: Admit to a fault that leads to a caning.

Those who wait: complete chores with three hours to spare and spend the remainder of the day in the corner.

Her wish is my command: bring Mistress something she wanted before being commanded to do so.

Friend or enema: complete all daily chores while holding in three quarts.

Silence is bronze: no speech except in response to a direct question for a week.

Silence is silver: no speech except in response to a direct question for a month.

Silence is golden: no speech except in response to a direct question for a year.

Spit-roast: take one of Mistress’s boyfriends at each end.

Whole hog: Do two consecutive spit-roasts, with changed ends.

My special place: spend 8 hours standing in the corner without looking around.

Weekend place: spend 24 hours standing in the corner without looking around.

Shameful duty: appear in full maid’s costume in front of someone from your ‘previous life’.

Shameful discipline: be punished in front of someone from your ‘
previous life’.

Rain man: learn every telephone number in Mistress’s contacts.

Asking for it: request a stroke-for-stroke repetition of a paddling, immediately after it finishes.

Begging for it: request a stroke-for-stroke repetition of a caning immediately after it finishes.

Happy Hubby: Have a perky smile on your face every time Mistress sees you, for a week.

Rash decision: wear the same pair of diapers and plastic pants for three days in a row, without a change.

Bad scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction without once getting up off your knees.

Better scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction with hands tied back, and the brush between your teeth.

Good scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction using your hair as the brush.

Recycler: eat nothing but Mistress’s leftovers for a week.

Know what’s good for you: request a spanking for no reason.
Know what’s better for you: request a paddling for no reason.

Know what’s best for you: request a caning for no reason.

Cum-bucket: hold a boyfriend’s semen in your mouth all night without swallowing or spitting.

Sleep is for wimps: Perform housework for 24 hours without a break.

Dog-tired drudge: Perform housework for 48 hours without a break.

Remorseful: write a letter of apology to every woman with whom you have ever had sex.

Making amends: clean the apartment or house of a former girlfriend in maid outfit.

Revenge is bitter: receive corporal punishment from a former girlfriend.

Because she says so: Self-administer a whipping that draws blood.

Party animal: be the only ashtray at one of Mistress’s cocktail parties.

Potty mouth: Don’t spill a drop.

The role of the geek girl in this little tale was played by the lovely, smiley, dancey Emily Ratajkowski.
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