Master Returns

Scene 2

The dripping of his cold piss on my leg brought me out of my melancholy state. I hate when I become so self absorbed in my shame.

The ache deep in my balls reminds my that I still want to cum even though my cock resembles a minced up hot dog in it's current state. Even when he is punishing me I want him. I think I prefer when he is angry with me because Master gets so intent in making his disappointment known. I have been earning these punishments more in the last few months.

I know Master does not owe me an explanation for anything; I know this. Those many years ago I agreed to this, his sole decision making ability until he ends it. Back then it seemed so sexy. The sex was so amazing. The pure sexual charge of being for someone else's will. These many years later it has lost its appeal. All that is requested of me these days is to clean his home, excel in my profession, and to be the pretty trinket on his arm when he conducts his meetings.

I know I should consider myself lucky to be able to work and for the opulence I am allowed to live in. But lately I have been so aware of the fact that every penny I make is placed into his bank account. I have given everything to him in the last 5 years. Everything and I am lucky to get a kick in the leg for a floor, which has a little bit of dust on it. He buys my clothes, makes me lists of what food to buy. Every part of my life is regulated. I know I should consider myself lucky, but I cannot shake this deep sadness mixed with sexual frustration.

Getting up proves to be a little tricky. My leg is sore and my balance is totally off. The dirt and crumbs on the floor feel like sharp daggers reminding me of my misdeed. Washing my head and face in the sink is a welcome relief with the apple dish soap. I dry off on a hand towel I keep in a drawer next to the sink.

Opening the fridge I reach for my usual apple juice after a session and the look of it totally turns me off. I reach instead for the orange juice and pour a glass, taking a straw from the cupboard. It is all so stupid because I am unable to suck anything but this gag. Leaning backwards over the sink is a feat, but doable. The cold acidic flow feels amazing running over my face with only a small trickle really making it down my throat. It was how Master use to feel, running down my throat.

I make sure the glass is spotless from it's washing and I replace it. As Master always says, there is a place for everything and if it is out of place there is no need for it, the mantra prattling in my mind. The cleaning supplies are in perfect order by color of the container and where it is to be used in the house. I grab the Pine Sol, broom, brushes, rags and a bucket. Turning, the little spots of piss grabbed my attention. I realize I have to do these floors as well.

As the Pine Sol burns my eyes with it's toxic wonder stirring with the rush of hot water, I almost forget the smell of urine. I become keenly aware of my punishment once the trapped smells of disinfectant fade with the turn of a tap. Tepid water makes it's way down my thighs and cock towards the floor, those floors that are soon to be spit-polish clean.

I know he leaves me like this to think about what I have committed a wrongdoing. Funny, how it is only now that this dawns on me. I always think it is because he does not care. But Master is never one to do my inner work for me. He has always said inner work is not his responsibility. All he requires is obedience and thoughtfulness. I have always believed I was getting the better end of the deal.

The orange juice and birdbath have done their trick. The broom skips across the floor revealing to my embarrassment just how dirty the floor really is. Master must be very patient with me because there is no way it could have gotten like this over night. Perhaps, I am too focused on my job...that must be it. Looking around the room I see the layer of dust, fingerprints on the television, spider webs in the corner. The black boot scuffmarks are now so glaringly apparent.

What the broom misses I will remove by hand. The hot water burns my hands as I start to scrub but I remember the scorn of Master and it is my motivation to finish the task to his liking. I know when I have finished washing both the kitchen floor and living room floor my hands are going to look like prunes. Master likes the floor done twice with everything moved and replaced. No doubt he is fussy. Upon assessment of the house, I take aim to remove every soiled element, and wipe everything clean of all evidence of my neglect. The floors shine and again, everything is in it its place.

The house is in order as Master requested. Now it is my turn. The hot shower feels soothing. The sound of the dance music lulls into times gone past when Master used me in here. His. My cock stands to attention. Looking down I note a few scrapes on me but not as bad as I had feared. Wrapping my hand around my 6 inches feel so good. Soaping myself clean and gliding my fingers to the tip. I squeeze my glands together making my piss hole move, a way of bringing my balls up quickly. Rather than shoot right away I want to savor this.

I have to shave anyway, better now while I am hard. I like shaving my nuts but today was not pleasant as they still hurt from Master's punishment. I work quickly and complete the task with no nicks or cuts. My balls are so smooth now. I love that shaving makes my cock look longer. Taking the anal showerhead and soaping it makes my cock throb harder, a Pavlovian response. I move my leg to the side of the tub allowing the steel head to make its mark. It slides in only after I take a deep breath. I realize at that moment, how tense I have been.

Leaning back and pushing allows the warm head to slide up my tight ass, adjusting the showerhead makes a jet stream caress my prostate. The tiles of the shower are cold against my skin as I lean into them and fuck my ass with that steel cock. Matching the ass fuck with the tight grip on my cock I pump hard at both ends. Fucking my self, I suck on the gag as if it was a 12-inch cock and my face is being raped. A few strokes is all it takes for me to cream my stomach and the shower wall. My heart pumps hard as I squat in the tub to release the rinse water. With one gush I am spotless just as my Master requested. My cock is still semi-hard.

Under the sink are all the things needed to clean his bath. In short order every surface is made sterile. The strong smell of bleach fills the room. Folded clean towels are placed on the heating rack, new soap in all the dispensers, a clean roll of toilet paper, and all things in perfect order.

Crawling into my bed it gently reminds me how lucky I really am.