Chris was just getting home from work, and getting ready to go to the gym when he got the text from her, his Mistress. He had set a special ring tone for her so he would know he had to respond right away, she punished slaves that didn't respond promptly when she wanted something. For someone who was only of average height and build, and looked SO innocent, she had quite the sadistic streak.
The text read "come over, now." He frowned, he would miss his work out and he needed his routines, otherwise he would get agitated. She knew this and sometimes he thought she did it disrupted his schedule on purpose. To his surprise it appeared to be a group text. As he stood there stunned another text from the unknown number popped up saying "yes ma'am". Another slave. Interesting. He didn't know she had another. He wasn't sure if he was jealous, or worried that the time had finally come for him to be forced to interact with other men. She had been very specific when going over his limits, saying that if he didn't list it as a hard limit then he would be expected to sexually engage with other men, without protest, whenever she pleased.
Chris arrived at her house and parked in the driveway, noting that there were no other cars there. He knocked on the door and when she opened it he stopped to look for other men, and noticed for the first time how really tiny his mistress actually was. At 6'3" he was relatively tall and well muscled from his years in the marines. She was 5'6" and it always unnerved him that she could look so sweet when she was actually so vicious. He stripped per the usual protocol and put all of this things by the door. He kneeled and waited to find out why he was here. She hadn't specified that he needed to bring anything - usually if she wanted groceries or labor she told him what to bring or wear for the task.
"I've had a very hard day at work slave boy, and I need to take my frustrations out on someone" she said in her sweet sing-song voice. She seemed happy not stressed, and maybe a little drunk. For a moment he let his mind wander and wish she would get really drunk, so that he could pin her to the bed and fuck her like a little slut. One glance at her staring at him, like he was a complete moron, changed his mind quickly enough. He was a switch but she definitely wasn't. She was scary when she was quiet. It occurred to him he might be used as a pain slut tonight and he started to panic. Last time she had caned him he had barely made it to ten before he was ready to cry on her sheets.
She continued to stare without saying a word. Thinking. She was truly terrifying sometimes. Her eyes locked onto his face and with a glare she snapped "don't stare at me". She hated that, he knew better. He silently prayed "please God don't let it be the cane." "Follow me" she said and proceeded up the stairs. "Go kneel in your normal spot by my bed." He did as instructed kneeling in front of the large mirror placed on the wall opposite her bed, giving her the perfect view when she had a slave kneeling in his spot with his face buried between her legs if she sat at the edge of the bed.
He waited for a long time, and begun to get bored, wondering if she had changed her mind and might send him home rather than deal with him tonight. Sometimes she thought dealing with him was too exhausting and didn't bother. She was brilliant and having to explain things to average people, step by step, frustrated her. He was anxious, being left alone with too many thoughts made him crazy. He heard the door downstairs suddenly. Was someone else here? Had they knocked and he just hadn't heard it? His anxiety levels shot through the roof as he heard someone far heavier than her thudding up the stairs. Was it another man, a bull? A cuck? Was he the cuck? Of course he was the cuck, he would never be the bull.
As she walked into the room he leaned towards the door to see a much older heavyset man peeking pack at him as he crawled into the room. She had the older man kneel directly opposite Chris at end of the bed so that they were facing each other. She grabbed a cane neither of them had seen resting up against the wall and smacked it furiously down on the old man's back. They both cried out and grabbed the sheets. She laughed looking at Chris and said, "I didn't hit YOU moron." She laid into the older man with the cane for several long, brutal minutes. Chris could hardly stand to watch the man as he gritted his teeth and came close to tears, flinching with each hit.
When she was done both men sat gasping. She smiled and happily sat at the foot of the bed, then proceeded to stretch like a cat. She instructed the old man to go fetch her wine glass. He crawled out very slowly, in obvious pain. She then swung her feet up in front of Chris and said "I want a foot rub." He was too scared to do anything but comply silently.
As he rubbed her feet and she started talking about how she wanted a creative slave for some project that involved photographing her house from a slave's viewpoint. His mind began to wander, reliving the horrific beating he had just witnessed. He couldn't get the other man's face grimacing in pain out of his mind. He wished he had stood up and yanked the cane out of her hand. He was a trained marine and had at least 50 pounds on her, what could she have done, really? He hated himself for doing nothing. He hated that he was at her beck and call, and most of all he hated knowing that if he ever refused her anything she would dismiss him in the blink of an eye, and replace him within minutes. The other man now serving as a table for her wine glass at the foot of the bed was living proof of that. He was literally nothing to her and it made him furious.
