I was excited. I was also fucking nervous. Mistress had me in training for three weeks with her other girls before she’d even let me spend the night at the mansion. They worked me raw having me learn positions and study current events and cleaning – good god, all the fucking cleaning. And it had to be done “The way Mistress likes it.” Every time. Even shit she’d never see, like making the beds in the guest rooms.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful, it was that I’d signed up for more than this. I felt like the Karate Kid doing wax on wax off stuff before figuring out that it was preparing me for what was to come. And in my head I knew that. And I tried to be patient, but I guess patience isn’t really in my nature.
Each night I’d wrap up my training and wait in a room while my “sisters” went in to report on my progress. Each night I waited for Mistress to walk back through the double doors and welcome me to stay.
Each night, Juliette would be the one to walk back through the doors. “Mistress thanks you for your service and wishes you a good night. Please return tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”
And that would be it. I’d go back to my shitty apartment that I shared with roommates I barely knew, and masturbate myself to sleep.
By the end of the third week, I was starting to get used to the routine. I’d catch glimpses of Mistress as she’d wander in from time to time during my studies. Wanting to impress her, I’d stay focused on my tasks – and other than a courteous “Good morning, Mistress,” or “Good evening, Mistress,” I’d carry on with whatever I was doing. I’d been taught that was “the way Mistress likes it.”
The day Mistress walked back through those double doors alongside Juliette, I fell to my knees before her and kissed the ground at her feet without being told.
“You’ve made excellent progress,” she said. “I’m hosting a get-together this weekend. Tomorrow morning, you and I will have a chat and discuss your place in this household. If we come to an agreement, I will introduce you as a member of my House at the party on Saturday.”
“Yes, Mistress,” was all I could say. With that, she turned and walked out. I didn’t come up until I heard Juliette speak, “I’ll show you to your room whenever you’re ready.”
I was ecstatic. All that hard work had paid off! And the following morning, instead of waking up in my shitty apartment with my shitty roommates, I woke up in a beautiful bedroom with my own adjacent bathroom.
Over breakfast, Juliette tried prepping me for my conversation with Mistress, but I kept zoning out, daydreaming about being introduced at the party. I imagined what I would wear – a brand new black leather collar and my dark blue corset with back-seamed stockings and heels. I would look perfect for her, and all her guests would be watching me and envious of her and I would be her most prized possession.
“Just remember, she likes things the way she likes them. Don’t question her. Are you listening?” Juliette was waving her hand in front of my face.
“Yes, Mistress likes things a particular way. Got it.” My mind wandered back to the curve of my cleavage in that corset.
My conversation with Mistress went well. She already knew a lot about my background from my application and initial interview. This was more about letting me know about her expectations if I were to accept her collar. Obedience, charm, respect, and loyalty. All the traits I’d spent three weeks learning about and training in.
“Do you know why I selected your application?” she asked me.
I was stunned. I’d not put much thought into it. I’d assumed it was because she found me attractive, but I didn’t want to say that out loud. It was as though she read my mind, though, because she smirked “It’s not because of your ass, though I do plan on enjoying your physical attributes to their fullest, and very soon.”
I bit my lower lip in an effort not to smile broadly.
“I selected you because you have spirit,” she said. “My house runs very smoothly. I don’t have cause to dole out punishment very often.” She stood up from her chair behind the desk and walked toward me.
“Kneel.” she said.
I knelt, hands shaking.
She was holding a collar.
“Chin up, look at me.” As she said it, she took a forceful grasp of my chin and pulled it up anyway. I opened my eyes and looked into the darkness in her eyes.
“I enjoy breaking the spirited ones. I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” she whispered. If she hadn’t been holding me up, I might have melted into a puddle right there.
“Do you accept my collar?”
She fastened it around my neck, and pulled me up by the hair. I scrambled to stand as the pain shot through my scalp.
“You will not be clothed from now until after the party Saturday night. Nobody but myself has permission to touch you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.” My voice was hoarse with desire as I started stripping off my clothes in response.
“I mean nobody,” she paused and smiled cruelly. “Not even you.” She punctuated that last sentence with a sharp pinch of my left nipple. I winced in response, and she slapped my face in response to that.
I fell silent, but inside, I felt my face flushing. Emotionally I was feeling vulnerable and angry simultaneously. I called on my training for the previous three weeks and with a deep breath, calmed myself back into submission.
As I prepared for the party two nights later, I found myself staving off anxiety attacks. I reached into my purse and took half a xanax, just to take the edge off. I’d not touched myself in nearly 48 hours, nor had anybody else. I’d been doing household chores all morning wearing nothing but my collar. That afternoon, Mistress entertained herself by having Juliette and Brendan fuck each other in the garden as I served her lunch.
Watching them fuck, and watching Mistress direct them from one position to the other to the next while they obeyed without question had me so wet I was dripping down my thighs.
Every once in a while she’d look over at me and everything about her expression screamed “I know you want to touch yourself and I am not letting you.”
Her guests started arriving around 7pm. It was the who’s who of the BDSM community. Juliette had taken her place at Mistress’ side, while I was tasked with offering wine to the guests upon their arrival. Everyone was dressed beautifully, women in latex and leather and beautiful corsets. The men in suits. I was the only one completely nude except for my collar. Not even a pair of heels to accentuate my legs.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me. I could feel them staring at my ass as I walked past them, and they didn’t hide from ogling my tits at all. Some of them were even leering.
But nobody touched me. I was dripping wet and at that point, even the ugliest fucker in the room could have slid his fingers inside me and I’d have been grateful.
I went into the wine cellar to open another bottle of red wine, and poured myself a glass, quickly gulping it down before returning to the party.
That was probably where things went completely wrong. I’d forgotten about the xanax I’d taken earlier. My libido was out of control, and Mistress had hardly said more than two friendly words to me in two days.
I watched with envy as Juliette served at her side. That would be my place one day, I thought. But first I had to get through the evening.
Mistress finally looked up and called me over. Finally. I set down my tray of wine glasses and walked over to her. “Yes, Mistress?” I curtsied. There were three or four people around her at the time – men and women I recognized as leaders in the community.
“Saffron hasn’t had a walk in ages. Go take her out around the block. Don’t come back until she’s done her business.”
I was shocked.
“Outside?” I asked.
She raised her eyebrow. “Yes. Outside.” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m trying to avoid her doing her business in the house.”
“But…” I felt the anger boiling up. This was my coming out party and she’d been ignoring me the entire time, except to tell me to walk her dog?
“But what?” her tone was getting cooler.
“You said I can’t get dressed until after the party.”
“And you want me to walk your dog in the street, naked?”
“And now you’ll do it while wearing a ball gag and a plug up your ass.”
My mouth dropped open. Was she nuts? And before I could stop myself, I said the words I would eventually learn to regret for a long, long time.
“You’re a bossy fuckin’ bitch, aren’t you?”
The entire room fell quiet. Juliette’s eyes went so wide it looked like that Soundgarden video from the 90s.
Mistress didn’t say it to anybody in particular. She didn’t have to.
“Get her out of my sight.”
It was Brendan who pulled me out of the room and dropped me off at the end of the hallway.
He didn’t say a word. There was nothing to be said. I’d fucked the hell up.
And I was going to pay for it.
Phi is an erotic fiction writer. Phi (pronounced “fee”) came into kink at early age and renewed her connection with the lifestyle in 2014 after a decade-long hiatus. A somewhat popular and undeniably avid blogger on fetlife.com under the name phi-is-me, phi lives in the suburb of a suburb in southern California with two cats and six pillows.