I was on my knees with my hands on the floor, wearing only tight white briefs. In my right hand I pressed a wet rag against the tiles and carried out one of the orders that gave my Stepmother great pleasure. A task that, as time passed and I became accustomed to it, I also began to enjoy it. More and more each time. A task that was always an order from my divine Mistress and which I performed with delight.
Since that memorable first whipping, delivered by her firm black leather gloved hand, with each passing day I had become more and more accustomed to her dominant, commanding voice, to all the chores she listed for me each day, and to the fact that the relationship stepson and stepmother, slowly disappeared, and relatively quickly a servant - Mistress, or even a slave - Mistress, appeared. Since that memorable first flogging of hers with her firm, black leather gloved hand, with each passing day she became more dominant and I became more submissive and humiliated.
I was washing the floor in the living room, kneeling on my knees. I washed, scrubbed, cleaned, polished, etc. What else can be written about this state of affairs in which I find myself now? If I have omitted something, so dear reader, let your imagination run wild, add something and come up with other verbs that I have not mentioned and which relate to this. The only thing I can say now is that I had a responsible task to perform, for which my queen would soon hold me accountable.
In the living room, some atmospheric, relaxing music flowed from the speakers, not too loudly, painting soundscapes. But unfortunately I didn't hear these sounds at all. For me they were just some insignificant background. What were these poor notes from these speakers, when my ears were now subjected to the amazing therapy of my Stepmother's sensual voice. Just balm for my ears.
My Mistress, holding her smartphone in her manicured left hand, was talking to Aunt Theresa. Just some girly gossip. She stood there with that phone now on the other side of the living room in front of the large patio window, away from me and with her back to me. As usual, I don't have to tell you she looked gorgeous.
She was wearing a white satin blouse with long sleeves. Wavy, brown hair fell freely around her neck, covering the collar of the blouse and a patterned scarf consisting of floral arrangements in various colors. Her waist was girded with a wide black belt made of delicate leather. Of the same kind, she wore tight black leather trousers that showed off the sexy curves of her legs and ass.
On her legs she wore caramel leather over-the-knee boots with stiletto heels, pointed toes and yellow soles. The zippers of the boots were also of caramel color and reached to the middle of her calf. The rest of the shaft was slip-on. As I said, she was standing with her back to me with her legs spread slightly and seductively, like a real dominatrix.
She stood there in such a way that I dreamed of crawling over to her on my knees, kneeling with my back to her, tilting my head back, placing it in that sexy crotch of hers, and drilling my horny mouth through her leather trousers into her hot and wet pussy. I know that if my Mistress found out what lewd thoughts were circulating in my head about her, I would be severely punished and it would not be a subtle drawing of figure eights with the whip on my ass as it was the first time.
In her left hand she held the smartphone near her ear. In her right hand, clenched into a fist and resting on her waist, she held the black leather gloves and the riding crop by the handle, gifts I had given her for her birthday last month. My Stepmother's firm hand held the riding crop professionally and firmly, ready to use it on her slave at any moment without any scruples. Especially since this slave was now only wearing briefs, so there was plenty of space to deliver harsh whippings.
During a lively conversation with Aunt Theresa, my Mistress raised her left booted leg and rested it for comfort on the coffee table next to her. She instinctively made some lively gestures with her right hand. And since, as you can see, it was already occupied, from time to time she moved her gloves and riding crop, lightly brushing them against her thighs. Over time, these gentle brushings turned into very subtle strokes of the tip of the whip against her right calf.
I know she was doing it on purpose to excite me even more, because she knew that even though I should be focused on scrubbing the floor, it was still stronger than me that I had to watch her from behind and that's exactly what I was doing at that moment.
Her charming voice was now accompanied by the sound of the light taps of the whip against her calf, the sound of gold bangles clattering against each other and moving around her right wrist, and the subtle taps of her stiletto heeled feet on the tiled floor. I haven't paid any attention to the music playing from the speakers in the background for a long time.
My stepmother turned slightly sideways, looking over her shoulder at me out of curiosity about what I was doing now and whether I was watching her. I glimpsed her face, her gaze and her captivating makeup. She could already see that I was staring at her instead of following her orders and scrubbing the floor. Without interrupting the conversation on the phone and smiling all the time, she winked at me knowingly. Abashed, despite the blink of her eye, by her dominant gaze, I lowered my eyes and returned to my chore.
I wondered if she was still watching me now. I was afraid to look up. Despite everything, I now had respect for my Mistress. The whipping punishments given by her were no longer as pleasant as at the beginning, a month ago, when we started our Mistress-slave relationship. They were more painful and I no longer looked forward to them as I used to. My Stepmother had already achieved such perfection in dominating me that I felt a real fear of every punishment of whipping. Just like every potential slave should feel in the presence of his Mistress.
But the curiosity to look at the beautiful and adored woman was stronger. I decided to take a risk. I looked up. It turned out that Stepmother was still chatting merrily with Aunt Theresa, but her back was now turned to me. I could once again look at her shapely, slightly stuck out butt and awesome legs spread apart in tight fitting leather trousers, and I could get horny with this view by rubbing my crotch with my hand.
The conversation continued for a few more minutes. From what I heard and understood, my Stepmother arranged a meeting with my step aunt and Karin to talk at our house, but I didn't know exactly when. While washing the floor on my knees, I observed the shapes of her perfect figure from behind. Stepmother finally finished the conversation, took her booted leg off the table, crouched down a little, bending her legs at the knees, to put the smartphone on the counter. I was now afraid of confronting her, but I continued to stare at her figure like an icon.
My Mistress, still standing with her back to me and holding the riding crop in her right hand, grabbed it horizontally in front of her with her other hand by the other end. Because it covered her body, I could only see fragments of the whip tips and the gloves held by her divine hands down. She held them gracefully like a real dominatrix. After a short while, I couldn't see it, but I could tell from the motions of her hands that she was bending the riding crop slightly into an arc, testing its flexibility.
Finally, still standing with her back to me, she moved the riding crop backwards to the accompaniment of the bangles, grasping it by the ends with both hands and placing it under her firm buttocks as if she wanted to sit on it. It's a pity that she wasn't wearing her gloves yet, but was holding them in her hand. It would be sexier and it would show off her dominance over me more.
"So, boy? How's it going with scrubbing the floor? Have you finished or have you just started? In the meantime, have you already looked at your Mistress? Have you already satiated your eyes hungry for female beauty?"
"Oh... I'm so sorry, Mistress. It won't happen again. I promise."
Stepmom laughed dominantly, turned to face me and stood in the same sexy pose, holding the whip and the gloves behind her back the entire time. Her scarf was tied in a knot at the front, just where it covered the sizeable cleavage of her blouse, and reached far down to her waist. The belt itself, around her waist, was fastened with a wide gold oval buckle.
"My dear," my Mistress spoke to me, taking off the bangles from her right hand for a moment, putting them on the table and starting to put the glove on her hand, "don't make promises that, as we both know, you will never be able to fulfill, because the desire to look at me will always be stronger than your internal resistance. You can't escape from this. It is normal that you admire the beauty of your Mistress dominating you, as befits the relationship between a Mistress and her slave. Well... but with these promises... it's like I told you...
My Mistress smiled and took the bangles from the table, put them back on her hand, started to pull on her glove and walked slowly towards me, strutting proudly and tapping her heels loudly. As I was still on all fours, she took advantage of this, came closer to me and, placing her left foot in the leather caramel over-the-knee boot on my muscular back, she began her game of whipping me.
SMACK!
"I think you forgot something, my dear," my Mistress said to me in a nice, warm voice, looking at the glove she was pulling on all the time.
"Thank you, my Mistress," I replied immediately.
SMACK!
"Do you think that's all? That just saying thank you is enough?"
"Thank you, Madam, for the instructive lesson on my behavior towards you."
