A House Call

I woke up to banging on the door.

Maybe they'll just go away?

My head was pounding. I had a very rough night.

At least it was over now.

A few rays of light poked through the blinds.

I could tell it was slightly earlier than I usually get up.

Reaching over to the night stand, I checked the time on my phone.

5:32 AM

And 26 missed calls from Ms. Rouge.

Oh shit.

I jumped out of bed, removed my clothes, and went to answer the door.

Wait.

I almost forgot.

I inserted the plug I was supposed to be wearing and opened the door.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I was asleep and didn't hear the phone."

In the hallway stood Ms. Rouge.

Today she wore a red blouse that pushed up her breasts, a pair of tight black jeans, and sandals, looking radiant as ever in the low light of the early morning.

I studied her, searching for even a hint of how she felt.

Her face betrayed nothing.

Neither happiness, nor sadness, nor even disappointment.

She was as in control of her own emotions as mine.

"Don't look at me. Face forward."

I stared at the neighbor's door while Ms. Rouge inspected my body.

I'd been a very naughty girl.

But just how bad -- Ms. Rouge was still determining.

I'd... taken a few liberties with the rules. A few shortcuts here or there.

Ms. Rouged expected me to be completely hairless below the eyebrows, whether I was with her or not. The first part, I'd followed until now.

As for the second part, I meant to comply.

I really meant to.

But work had been so busy this week. I couldn't bear to do anything, apart from ordering way too much take out and passing out in front of Netflix with the help of some melatonin tablets and a glass of wine, or two.

By 4PM on Friday, I'd recruited a few friends.

And by 5:30, we'd hit the West Village bars, hard.

All night we stuffed ourselves with appetizers and overpriced drinks, in several different restaurants. Our adventures had been meticulously cataloged in an intricate web of Venmo transactions -- until only Jessica and I remained.

She had just enough weed to get us both high.

Which made us realize how hungry we were.

And we found ourselves devouring Halal at the only place open at 3AM.

So drunk, tired, stoned, and full, I stumbled through the hallway of my building.

Only to be back in the exact same place a few hours later.

Now my indiscretions were on display, for Ms. Rouge, as well as anyone sober enough to be awake at this hour on a Saturday morning.

"Stay," she said, as she squeezed by me and flipped on the lights.

Now I felt properly naked.

I hoped... no... prayed that nobody would walk by.

Unfortunately God's hands were tied.

And I had to rely on the mercy of the woman I'd let go to voicemail twenty six times, whose orders I'd been disobeying all week.

"Has it been three days?" she said, rubbing the stubble above my vulva.

"Five days," I said. "Since I last saw you."

I had to come clean. Lying at this point would only make things worse.

"You can't be trusted," said Ms. Rouge. "I'll have to keep a closer eye on you. Perhaps you'll have to come live with me."

I pictured myself living in a cage under Ms. Rouge's bed. Would I even be able to turn around in it? I hoped not.

"Arms up," said Ms. Rouge.

"Put your arms up," she said. "And keep them up until I tell you to put them down."

I reeked, like Bryan after he'd been playing basketball with his friends.

"You smell like ass," she said, her nose wrinkling from the scent.

"And you haven't shaved your pits either, you dirty little whore," she added, this time much louder. "Does anyone in this building know what a filthy slut they live amongst?"

Hard as Ms. Rouge tried, I'd yet to be outed to my neighbors.

For the seven years I'd lived here, I hadn't let out a single moan within these four walls.

It was far too embarrassing.

I'd even shushed Bryan a couple times. He was usually quiet in bed, but occasionally he'd get too excited and I'd remind him to calm down.

The walls were paper thin.

This I knew from overhearing the neighbors, who at least had the courtesy to be freaks within the sanctity of their rooms.

Years of modesty, now down the drain, as I exposed my bush to any delivery man or maintenance tech lucky enough to be assigned to the third floor.

So far only Ms. Rouge had seen it. But I was starting to wish it was the other way around.

She yanked my pubic hair.

I moaned.

"I ought to pull all these hairs out. One by one," she said. "Either that or burn them off. Your choice."

"Please don't. I'll shave right now. I promise," I said.

"You can't shave right now. And spoil all the fun," said Ms. Rouge. "The time to do that was yesterday. Now you'll have to deal with the consequences."

Ms. Rouge stuck her finger inside me.

"Did you fuck anyone last night? Did this slutty little hole get filled up last night?"

I was soaked.

"No, Mistress."

"This is my hole. To use as I see fit. For my pleasure. Not yours, or anyone else's. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She took her finger out of me and held it under my nose.

Our scents danced together, complementing each other perfectly.

It smelled like heaven.

"What do you smell like?"

"Cunt."

"Filthy cunt," she corrected me. "Which is getting wetter by the second. Does this turn you on? Does it turn you on to expose your hairy cavewoman pussy, all hot and ready, to any old dick that walks through the door? Or would you prefer that the entire building see it?"

No!

Or at least I didn't think I did.

"I can arrange that for you," she said.

Just then, Ms. Rouge pushed me into the hallway.

By the time I'd regained my footing, she'd slammed the door and locked me out of my own apartment.

Fuck!

My first instinct was to call for help.

Like an idiot, I reached down for my phone but only found my bare hip.

Shit.

I was alone and naked, wearing nothing but a rhinestoned buttplug, that as far I knew, was incapable of alerting the authorities.

Which left me with only one option.

"Let me in. Ms. Rouge. Mistress," I whispered.

I pawed at the door like a desperate dog, eager to rejoin her owner.

But there was no response.

Pawing turned to knocking, and then banging.

"Please Ms. Rouge. I'll do anything. Just let me in."

Surely Ms. Rouge would open the door any minute, right?

Right?

I started to lose hope when I heard all the water running in the apartment.

Sobbing, I could barely get the words out.

"Please. Please. Let me in," I said, smashing on the door as hard as I could, until I collapsed onto the floor.

"You look so good on your knees."

I looked up and saw Ms. Rouge.

She'd finally taken mercy on me.

I ran into my apartment and locked the door behind me.

Hugging Ms. Rouge, I said, "Thank you. Thank you. I'll be good. I'll follow all the rules. I promise."

She scowled.

Disgusted by my sweaty naked body pressed against hers, she pushed me away.

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding regarding who's in charge here."

"Yes Mistress," I cooed.

"Well then. Go fucking shower, you dirty little whore. I've already started running the water."

I marched to the bathroom.

"Hold up," said Ms. Rouge.

As soon as she took out the plug, I opened my mouth.

I'd gotten so used to the fullness sensation, I'd practically forgotten it was even inside me.

"Lick it clean."

I complied.

"You missed a spot," she said, pointing to a few drops of spit. "I want it so clean, I could use it myself."

I polished the toy with a few more exaggerated licks of my tongue.

"Good. Now go shower," said Ms. Rouge, putting the plug back in her purse.

What was she going to do with that, I thought, as I walked to the shower.