Home for Her Birthday (750 Words)

This is a story about an extreme but consensual 24/7 TPE dynamic. Piss play is mentioned.

This story was written for the 2024 Literotica 750 Word Challenge. Below this line are exactly 750 words.

She'd left it in the bathtub last night. She couldn't remember why. Maybe just to be a bitch.

It was still sleeping fitfully, shivering and reeking of piss. That, she hadn't done.

She woke it with a blast of cold water. "What the fuck, little boy? Your leash definitely reaches the toilet."

"The slave misunderstood." Teeth chattering, it indicated its leash, draped over the towel bar instead of hung by the loop on the end. She had left it barely enough slack to lie down.

Oops.

"Well, happy my birthday. No punishment. I'll even let you shower."

It usually took sponge baths in the kitchen sink. No time for that today. The sooner it left, the sooner she could be with her husband.

"Mistress's kindness knows no bounds! Her generosity is without peer!"

"Yeah." She waved her electric toothbrush. "Two minutes. Tick-tock."

She let it brush its teeth and take its pills and put on clothes. Then she pushed its phone, keys, and wallet into its hands and threw it out the door.

An hour later, outside the train station, it was her turn to shiver. A cotton dress and gossamer stockings did nothing to protect her from the crisp fall air. And her towering stilettos were already making her calves cramp.

She looked vain, foolish, mutton dressed as lamb. It didn't matter. His reaction made it all worthwhile. Laughing, she flew into his arms. He scooped her up. She dragged his lips to hers and kissed him thoroughly.

"How can you wear that in this weather?"

How often did her husband come home? But she wasn't going to waste their time together picking fights. "I'm fine. Hungry, though. Breakfast?"

"What do you want?"

"You pick. Don't make the birthday girl make decisions."

"Sausage, then?" He winked.

"Okay!" The station had single-user bathrooms. Kneeling on the cold, hard tile, she luxuriated in the mindless pleasure of being face-fucked by the man she loved.

He took her home for some warm clothes and flat shoes. He found them a cute bistro. He even ordered for her. She was in heaven.

After dinner, he dropped the bombshell. "How would you feel about me coming home?"

"Come...home? To...stay?" His life had been dictated by the needs of others. Family, friends, fellow veterans. Wasn't it finally his turn? "But, but, this was your dream."

"And I've done it. It was amazing. Now it's time to wake up."

"No, there's so much more---I'm fine, honey,

fine.

"

He took her hand across the table. "It's not you. This was never meant to be permanent. How long can I take this, physically? Let's end on a high note. Christmas? Unless you'd rather keep the slave..."

"No! Christmas. But you can still...take naps." Was that the metaphor now? "This isn't the end."

"I hope not."

She squeezed his hand. They spoke no more of it. She dropped him off at the train station and hurried home.

The slave always needed to be broken in again after a day off. Now that she knew it only had to last a few more months, she could go the extra mile tonight.

By the time she finished, it lay hiccuping on the floor. She'd taught it to cry silently. She'd even mostly taught it to scream silently. But if there were any way to teach a man to hiccup silently, she had yet to discover it. So she still had to hear it hiccup, especially when it had been crying.

She ignored it. Picking up her phone, she wrote, "Thinking of you. Love you. Miss you. Can't wait for Christmas."

She deleted the last sentence before she sent it.

Something dinged from the slave's neatly folded clothes. Lost in a nightmare of its own making, it didn't react.

He had forgotten to silence his phone again. She patted around until she found it. She set it to vibrate.

Returning to the slave, she placed her stiletto heel onto a particularly nasty welt. The slave stiffened, but did not flinch. She had cured it of that habit.

Leisurely, she pressed down, watching the tendons in its neck pull taut. She twisted savagely. Fresh blood welled up. A high keening sob escaped its throat. Satisfied, she lifted her foot.

"Enough. Clean up here and get some sleep."

"Mistress is merciful," it croaked.

"Big day tomorrow. I've decided to toilet-train you." She giggled at the horror on its face. She had forgotten how much fun this could be. "End on a high note, right?"

Can you believe this was once 16,000 words? Amazing how much I managed to cut while still preserving the heart of the story.

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