Sisyphean

Writer's note: this is a true story that I tried to give some literary flair with metaphors and analogies, hope it works!

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"You're late. Get undressed and get in your position. Quickly, now."

I did as I was told, taking off and carefully folding each article of clothing before placing them in a neat pile on the floor. When I was fully nude I got down on all fours with my back arched.

"Oh, don't forget your butt plug!"

I got my plug from my bag and applied the lube. I began inserting it.

"On your knees, so I can see."

I turned around and got back on all fours, with my ass in the air and my legs spread to give her a nice view of my asshole. I took the plug and teased it in and out, spreading the lube and stretching my hole.

"Take your time, don't hurt yourself," she said as she reached between my legs and grabbed my balls, massaging them gently. Quickly she moved to my dangling, hard cock and stroked it, first slowly, then quickly. "I'm just milking you like a cow aren't I?" she quipped. "Remember not to cum."

It felt so good to have my hole being stretched at the same time as I was being milked and I soon felt the pre-cum leaking out involuntarily. The butt plug slid all the way in.

"Good boy!" she said as she slapped me on the ass, which was quickly followed by an "ew." I looked up and saw that she had gotten lube all over her hand. She washed her hands in the bathroom as I silently chuckled.

"Now, for your tardiness I've decided it's time to use a new tool on you."

She picked up a small, wooden crab mallet off of the bed. I immediately knew how she was going to use it and I tensed in anticipation. "Stay still," she ordered, "or it will be much worse for you."

She gently tapped my right testicle with the mallet. It didn't hurt too bad and I let out a silent sigh of relief. Then she hit with the exact same velocity in a spot less then two centimeters away and my body jolted with pain.

"I told you to stay still!"

She repeated this on the left side. With each hit I flinched, but slightly less than the time before.

"We can keep doing this all day if we have to, until you learn how to stay still."

I was seriously doubting whether that was possible. With each new hit my body instinctively moved away from the mallet. As if there was a direct line from my balls to my nervous system. Wait, there probably was, right? I never did take an anatomy class in school. Eventually she gave up on it and rewarded me by milking my cock again. She ordered me to look in the mirror to watch myself get milked like the animal I was. The feeling of her fingers, with their tight grip on my shaft's skin, gliding over the head and back down again was intoxicating. Each finger on each stroke brought me closer and closer to ecstasy.

"No cumming!" she reminded me, with a smile in her voice.

I let out a grunt in response.

"Now then," she said as she let go of my cock and stood up, "I want you to clean the whole bathroom, from top to bottom. The walls, the floor, the tub, the sink, everything should be shining by the time you're done. Use this soap for the toilet, and this spray for everything else. Here is a Swiffer for the floors and where did I put that... oh, here it is! The dry wipes and the wet wipes. Before you do that, though," she continued as she walked over to the closet and retrieved a vacuum, "use this. Okay? And I want you to stay hard the whole time. Any questions?"

This was new. Not just the staying hard part, all of it. Before she had just had me clean the floor or the tub and then switched me to another task. This was a new level of independence. I wondered if the increased level of trust would lead to increased rewards.

"No, ma'am," I said as I stood up and took a step towards the bathroom.

"Wait, what is that?" she asked, pointing at my half-hard dick. Did she actually expect me to stay at full-mast while she gathered the cleaning supplies? I realized then that staying hard while cleaning an entire bathroom was going to be impossible. She was giving me an impossible task.

"Get it hard again! Or is that as hard as it gets for you?"

I began to masturbate and quickly regained my erection. She smiled and gave it a stroke.

"Keep it at that level, I don't want to see it soft."

"Yes, ma'am."

I began to clean the bathroom and almost immediately became flaccid. It wasn't my fault, I tried thinking about how sexual this situation was and even had pornographic images of my Mistress from her online profile floating through my mind. But as I cleaned the toilet bowl followed by the seat and cover, I found myself completely flaccid. There was no helping it.

"Step out here," she ordered from the hallway.

I put the toilet brush down and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Why are you soft? Ugh, nevermind, just get it hard again!"

I began to masturbate but my dick was no longer cooperating. We stood there in silence watching as I played with it in vain.

"Useless!" she exclaimed, and reached for my dick. She furiously masturbated it, but little changed. With her other hand she grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back. "You like it when I take control, don't you?"

Almost immediately my cock sprang back to life. She gave it a couple more strokes and then stepped back.

"Do NOT let me see it soft again!" She ordered as she walked away.

I went back to cleaning. Well, to be more accurate I was cleaning with one hand and steadily masturbating with the other. But it wasn't long before I had to use both hands to scrub something or stabilize myself and my erection disappeared. It was impossible. I gave up on it and went back to cleaning.

A few minutes later she called me out of the bathroom to inspect me. Once again she chastised me and used her hand to get me hard again. This time it took even longer than before. I stood there feeling the shame of disappointing my Mistress, of not being able to do this for her. I think that if I was a normal person, not a submissive, I would have simply enjoyed the handjobs. After all, that had to be her plan, right? It was an excuse to make me take a break and get jacked off every 5-10 minutes. But I was a submissive, and she was my Mistress. And getting a handjob from her was not nearly as satisfying as getting her approval. My cock finally responded.

"I guess that's as hard as it gets, huh? Like a ripe banana. Oh well, good enough. Back to work. And actually try to stay hard this time, hmm?"

I turned around and went back to the bathroom. I did not attempt to stay hard. I was done. As I scrubbed the tub, I began to ruminate on the impossibility of the situation. It wasn't fair. I needed a fair chance at impressing Mistress. But how could I stay hard this whole time? Maybe it wasn't an impossible task, maybe there was a solution. I could... watch porn? No, she wouldn't like that. Maybe... a cock ring? Or lacking that, a rubber band? But I didn't have either of those. My mind wandered back to the nudes of my Mistress. The one of her hanging nude from ropes with a gag in her mouth. The one of her spread pussy and asshole, with her ass covered in fresh whip marks. My dick twitched.

After scrubbing the tub and shower walls I dissasembled her shower enema (at the time I thought it was some weird hair-washing attachment) and used it to rinse the walls. She leaned in to the bathroom and observed me. I thought she might compliment my ingenuity.

"You're soft again? Step out here."

I silently turned off the water and turned to dry my hands. I had trouble hanging the towel back on the tiny hook. My frustration grew.

"Hurry up, bitch."

I turned and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Why the fuck are you soft again? Why can't you follow simple directions?"

I looked down in shame and frustration as I attempted an explanation.

"It's hard to stay hard while I'm cleaning a whole bathroom, ma'am."

"You think I give a fuck?" she asked incredulously. "That's not my problem. Figure it out."

I figured that I had nothing to lose. Might as well give it a shot. If she really wanted me erect maybe she would do this for me.

"Well, ma'am, one thing that I think might help," I said nervously, my eyes darting around. "Is if you maybe... I don't know." I took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. "Took your top off?" I ventured a glance down at the sports bra she was wearing, and the erect nipples I could see through them. Then I looked up at her face. Her mouth was wide open in shock.

"Wha... what did you just say you little bitch?! What the fuck? Take my top off? Have you lost your goddamn mind? Stay there," she yelled as she stormed off to the kitchen. "Not only are you not going to see my boobs, I'm putting more clothes on! Who is this insubordinate little brat? What happened to my sweet boy?!"

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. I knew I was about to get seriously fucked up, but the surprise on her face was just priceless. Her absolute shock that I would talk back to her like that. It was too funny. "I just thought it would be something that would help me to stay hard, I was just trying to follow your orders!" I called to her in the other room.

"You little bitch, you decided that today is the day you're going to start bratting?" she exclaimed, returning empty-handed and wearing the same clothes. She walked up to me and slapped me hard in the face, twice.

"Get on all fours in front of the mirror!" she ordered as she began searching in her sex toy and punishment chest. She pulled out a fleshtoned silicone dildo and put it in front of my face.

Briefly, the thought occurred to me that despite all of her shaming the size of my dick, this dildo that she had evidently spent money on looked pretty damn similar. Maybe an inch longer and slightly narrower. Between this observation and the memory of her shocked face, I was giggling uncontrollably.

"Open your mouth," she ordered. She shoved the dildo in up to the balls. My gag reflex kicked in immediately. "Do not puke on my carpet," she warned as she pulled the dildo out before shoving it back in. Again, I gagged and my eyes watered. "Hold it in! Keep deepthroating that dick!" she ordered as she went and got a towel to put down on the floor and a paddle. "Suck it like you'd want yours sucked!"

She got behind me and struck my ass with the paddle, hard. I groaned as I sucked the silicone cock, moving it around my mouth and using my tongue on it. She hit me again in the same spot, just as hard. I let out a longer and deeper groan, but this did not slow her down. The heavy paddle hit again and again until the pain was unbearable. She switched to her hands briefly, hardly any better. She noticed that my mouth wasn't moving on the dildo and screamed at me to shove it all the way in. At the same time she returned to the paddle, hitting my cheeks and thighs in rapid succession. Tears ran down my face as I gagged and groaned, almost screaming in pain. My face was covered in saliva, sweat, snot and tears.

"Keep your head up! Watch yourself suck that cock in the mirror! That's all that mouth is good for!"

She sat on my back, facing my ass and began hitting me from that direction.

"You sorry now, bitch? Huh? Are you sorry now? I can do this all day, all fucking day. I'm going to teach you a lesson if it takes me all day!" she shouted in between smacks and paddlings. "I can't believe you said that! What happened to my sweet boy?!"

I was now crying in pain, every smack and paddle hit absolute torture. With each hit I let out a scream muffled only by the dildo in my mouth. Internally I debated saying my safeword. I wasn't sure I had ever been in this much pain, but on the other hand I knew that I deserved it. What had I been thinking saying that to her? What was wrong with me? I didn't just justify the pain, I wanted the pain. I needed the punishment. I needed her to know how much I suffered, how sorry I was. She would see that. She would see how well I took my beating and she would forgive me. She would approve of me again. I could still please her, if only through suffering. God, I was so grateful for this beating. It was an opportunity. It meant she wasn't done with me.

Just when I thought the skin on my ass was going to start sloughing off, she stopped. She got up and stood by my head.

"Say 'I'm sorry, Mistress!'"

I did not dare take my mouth off the dildo. Now, with her watching me, I sucked it even more furiously. I tried to say it while deepthroating. She went around back and smacked my balls. I screamed in absolute agony. It hurt much worse than the mallet.

"I can't hear you! Say it! Say 'I'm sorry, Mistress!'"

I couldn't take anymore. I felt broken. When the pain died slightly, I moved the dildo to the side of my mouth and said, with tears of sincerity in my eyes, "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Say 'I'm sorry for being a little bitch, Mistress, it won't happen again.'" she ordered.

Again, with complete and utter sincerity I repeated it.

"Take the dick out of your mouth."

I did so, laying it down on the towel. When I looked up at her, she smacked me im the face.

"Hmm, I need to work on my slaps. Hold on," she said as she slapped me twice more, harder. Compared to the pain coming from my ass and thighs, these might as well have been kisses on my forehead. "Okay, sit up." She got another towel and wiped the sweat and tears off of my face. She looked me over and nodded approvingly. "I think you learned your lesson. You won't be bratty again anytime soon, will you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay, well, get back to work."

I slowly rose to my feet and hobbled to the bathroom, where I picked up the shower enema and rinsed off the walls, paying special attention to even the smallest marks and re-scrubbing them clean. No more thoughts, no more grievances. I just wanted to do a good job. If what I had done was bratting, I had been thoroughly tamed.

A few minutes later she called me into her bedroom and put down a plastic bowl of water on the floor.

"Drink. You've been sweating."

I sat on my knees in front of it and slowly tried picking it up with my hands. I waited for the rebuke that I knew was coming.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

I put the bowl back down and lowered my face to it, slurping it up.

"Good boy. Now say 'thank you, ma'am'".

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Back to work."

When I was done cleaning the bathroom I silently got back on all fours in front of the mirror and waited for her. I remembered that she wanted me hard, so I started playing with myself, still in that position. It didn't work. I looked in the mirror and saw her sitting in the other room reading a book, paying me no mind. The shame of the beating was still overwhelming any horniness. I sat up and masturbated in earnest. For her. It took a while for anything to happen. I thought again of those pictures of her. When I was finally fully erect, I considered whether I should wait for her. I would have to keep masturbating to stay hard. I could probably even cum without her knowing. I rejected that thought almost immediately. She hadn't given me permission, and I had fucked up enough already. I remembered months ago when she had told me to bark if I was done or needed something. I took a couple deep breaths. This was always difficult for me. Doing degrading things was easy, verbalizing them less so.

I barked. She put her book down and came over. I was still upright on my knees with a boner.

"All done?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh and you're hard! What a good boy! Well, let's take a look." She entered the bathroom and looked around. "The tub looks good, so does the toilet. But you didn't do the blinds or the window."

"Oh, right, I-"

"Don't give me excuses," she admonished. She was firm but not angry, not yelling.

"I forgot, but I meant to ask you if you had a better tool for those because the sponge wasn't working."

"Hmm, okay, I guess that's valid, but you should have told me."

"I know, I'm sorry, ma'am," I said, looking down in genuine shame.

"Good enough for now I suppose," she said.

Tears welled up in my eyes again. This was the hardest she had ever critiqued my work. And she was right. Even after that beating I still couldn't do anything right. Useless. I stared at the carpet.

She looked down at me. "It's good, thank you. Thank you so much. You did a great job. I think that's enough for today. Why don't you put your clothes on and join me on the couch? Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, ma'am," I meekly replied.

Over the next half hour we sat on the couch, her arm around me, a cup of hot tea in my hand and talked. She asked me if she went too far with the beating. I said no, that was fine, I deserved it. That made her laugh. I joked that I bet my wife will think I deserved it too when I told her about it. We discussed her love life, her job search, our respective (animal) pets, and the scenes I had planned for that evening at the local dungeon. I told her she should come and she said that she would. She thanked me again as I got up to go. We hugged and I left with a smile on my face.

The past month had been brutal on me, my business and my mental health. My seasonal depression felt like chronic, unending psychological pain from the moment I woke up until I fell asleep. Therapy and medication weren't cutting it. It was exhausting and I was sleeping 10-12 hours per night. Often waking up, drinking a cup of coffee and going back to sleep. I had spent nearly every morning wondering why I should even get out of bed. It felt like every decision I made was wrong and I was constantly disappointing myself and the people around me. Was living as a middle-class 30 year old man with relatively few responsibilities and a happy marriage supposed to feel so Sisyphean?

That day was different. It was brutal on my body, but my mind was quiet. Walking to my car, I noticed the nice weather and checked my phone. My wife wanted me to pick her up a latte on the way home. She was anxious about her own upcoming beating with a new friend. I texted her that I would, and that I loved her. I couldn't wait to get home and tell her everything that happened. I chuckled to myself as I imagined the look on her face. Nevertheless, I took the long way, and drove slow. For once, I felt entitled to the warmth of the sunlight on my face.