I kneel on both my knees at the door, my forehead to the floor, arms extended forward with palms down waited for Anthea to come and enter. As she steps inside, I immediately welcome her.
"Good evening Lady, welcome to your home, your presence honors me" and I kiss her feet with fervor, starting from the heels and moving up to the top and her toes through the dark brown sandals she wears, showing my passion and enthusiasm as per the protocol.
I look at her in admiration. She smiles and giggles, then comments on my welcome.
"Such a good boy. I love your enthusiasm, warmth and passion. Do you remember how you used to greet me when we were a couple?"
She crosses her arms, her voice steady.
"You were frowning, bored, grumpy, with an aura of entitlement and rarely smiling especially after the first few weeks."
For the hundredth time guilt overwhelms me and I kiss her legs even more passionately.
"It pissed me off then, but now, look at you! You know your place. You will never treat me like this again, ever again. Now you are my servant and you will show me the respect you have not shown me."
She nudges away my face with her foot.
"I've had enough of you getting horny on my feet, let's get to work, we have a lot to do today!"
I prepare her coffee I take the tray to the bedroom and serve it with water on the bedside table next to her bed and then I curtsey lifting up my apron revealing my cage and shaved genitals. Anthea giggles and lies on the bed taking a sip of coffee then cross her legs in the bed and order me to organize her closet. She watches me with an amused expression, her sharp blue eyes watching my every move as I stand in front of her open closet, ready to begin the difficult task of organizing clothes, underwear, socks, accessories, and linens.
Her voice is soft but commanding.
"Let me let you in on a secret. Any self-respecting woman would call the relationship she has with her wardrobe romantic. To us, it is not just clothes; it is something to remind us of moments. You get me?
I nod my head.
"Now boy, I want perfection in my wardrobe."
I nod humbly, knowing already the heavy burden of this challenge. "Indeed, my Lady. I shall try to please you the best way I can.''
Anthea smiles slightly, "Oh, I know you will. But think, the best you can do is often not enough."
She takes a sip of her coffee and smiles.
"What use has a slave if he doesn't work hard to make my life more comfortable? ha-ha!"
I answer meekly at once, "Thank you very much Lady for making me useful and productive."
"Starting with my clothes I want them organized by color and season. "My summer dress is here."
She pointed to the other side of the closet. "There's the winter coats. Hang all my clothes by length and color. Make no mistakes. I'll be keeping a close eye on you."
I carefully begin to cast off her clothes, ensuring to set up them in the appropriate sections. I vicinity her summer dresses at the hangers, looking to be meticulous.
Anthea lets out a playful laugh
"Hi-hi, what are you doing? This hanger is completely wrong for this dress. You should know better, boy.'
She gets up, takes the hanger from me and holds it up with a smile.
"Look at this - you want to ruin my clothes? Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you thought you could follow me."
I feel a surge of shame and quickly change the hanger, trying to correct my mistake.
"Forgive me, Lady. "
Anthea interrupts me, her voice firm: "Intentions don't matter, results do. Now, fix it. Correctly!"
I work, more carefully now. I manage to finish organizing the clothes like she told me to. Next, I move on to the underwear drawer. Sensitive items make me nervous as I handle them, knowing that one wrong move will invite more criticism.
Anthea says in teasing tone, "Be careful with these, boy. My underwear is far more valuable than anything else you will ever touch. I'd hate to see them in the hands of someone as clumsy as you.''
She leans forward, watching me carefully. "Fold them nicely. I want everything in perfect rows - bras together, panties together, by color. If a couple is out of place, you start over."
I finish arranging the first few pieces, but she suddenly interrupts with a sly sneer.
"Boy, that's not good enough. Look at that fold - it's crooked! Are you paying attention at all? Do you want me to believe that you are incapable of handling something as simple as folding underwear?'
Having folded each item with great care, I go down running to her socks. Anthea keeps sipping her coffee and commenting on my folds.
"Socks are the easiest thing in the world to fold, and yet you still look like you're struggling. Hi-hi! Hard to match them out, boy?"
She watches me while matching up each pair with the utmost amount of care.
"Let's see. this one is okay, but what about these? See how uneven they look? You'll have to make them over."
Anthea lies on the bed, crossing her legs as she pays keen attention to the work I am doing.
When I get through with that, I look upon her accessories: belts, bags, scarves, and jewelry.
She grins, 'I want my belts rolled, not folded. And scarves -- stop crumpling them all together, instead stack them stuffed, neatly and in color order. Seriously, should I be the one telling you every little thing? I thought a houseboy would have some instincts by now."
Oh, her criticism hurt, but I obliged to roll the belts and drape the scarves as she explained. It is like every action is an examination, with the thing she is most focused on being my hands and her eyes trailing them. Then I place her bags in a row by size and color.
"Hi-hi, you know, for someone who spends so much time at my feet, for the time you have been under my influence organizing seems to be quite difficult for you. But I suppose for that very reason, that is what makes you-- always needing my help and guidance, you can never do it alone."
I slightly grit my teeth but somehow manage to control my anger.
