When I got out of the shower the next morning, dripping and steamy, I called to Ann-Marie: "Did you finish making the bed and setting my place for breakfast, Ann-Marie?"
"Yes, I did, Mistress."
"Good. Now come in here like I told you."
The bathroom door creaked open, and Ann-Marie entered on her hands and knees, naked, with her eyes cast downward and her 22-year-old ass tilted deliciously up in the air for my viewing pleasure. She prostrated herself at my feet and began to kiss them.
"What do we say first thing in the morning, Ann-Marie?" I said.
"I worship you, Mistress. I have no will of my own."
"Again. Louder."
"I worship you, Mistress. I have no will of my own," she stated in a trembling voice. Her long blonde hair felt delicious against my wet skin.
"That's right, Ann-Marie," I said, as my cunt clenched with pleasure. Good God, I'd just stepped out of the shower and I'd need another one soon at this rate.
I reached for the big, fluffy white towel hanging on the hook, and dropped it at my feet. "You can towel me off now, slave."
Ann-Marie performed her duty diligently, eyes still averted, making me tingle as she rubbed off every drop of water. When she stood behind me, her young, pink-tipped nipples pressed into my back and I could feel how hard with excitement they were.
When I walked back into the bedroom, I was also pleased to see that Ann-Marie had followed my orders and set up a small cot at the foot of the king-sized bed. A black-and-red leather ankle cuff, which she had procured from my suitcase, was attached to the walnut leg of the bed with a silver chain.
It was now time for Ann-Marie to dress me. My clothes were laid out neatly on the bed, just as I'd told her. Naturally, my slave would remain nude unless I told her otherwise. Ann-Marie had no right to cover up her aroused nipples and golden-haired cunt except by the say-so of her Mistress. Me.
I'd changed my plans for the morning while I was in the shower. When Ann-Marie brought me my panties, a pair of lace aqua-blue French-cut briefs, I told her: "Those aren't what I want. Get me another pair, slave."
Ann-Marie looked up at me in confusion. "But Mistress, you told me last night -- "
I grabbed her roughly by the hair. "Get in the habit of doing what I want, when I say. I'm not in the mood for blue panties right now, Ann-Marie. That is all that matters. Is that perfectly clear?"
Ann-Marie looked down. "Of course, Mistress. Thank you for reminding me. I just want to please you."
"Then bring me the red panties from the back of the drawer." I released her.
As she helped me into my panties, white blouse and bra, and dark slacks, I stroked her hair and told her she was a good girl. Ann-Marie glowed with pride. When I was dressed and she was still naked, I sat down on the edge of the bed and said: "Come sit next to me, Ann-Marie."
She got up, almost shyly, her hands clasped in front of each other, hiding her young pussy. I reached out and parted her hands, and pulled her down next to me. I could feel her trembling as she experienced my power over her.
"What are you thinking, Ann-Marie? Tell me like a good girl."
She took a deep breath. She was about to start, but couldn't.
"Say it for me. Say it for your Mistress."
Ann-Marie whispered: "I want to be your slave. I want to serve you so fucking bad. I want to be reminded every day what a privilege it is to be your slave."
I kissed her hard on the mouth, forcing my tongue between her lips, and cupped her naked breasts with my hands, fondling them hungrily. My hands traced down over her smooth skin, rubbing her lovely round ass. I leaned down and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth and she let out a raw moan.
But then I stopped. As hard as it was, I had to pull away. I needed to continue building my complete domination over my slave, driving her crazy with lust and willingness to serve my Mistress.
At the dining room table, I enjoyed fluffy blueberry pancakes and maple syrup, along with a plate of fresh-sliced peaches and a tall glass of orange juice--all of which Ann-Marie had gotten up at 7 am to prepare. Meanwhile, she kneeled next to me on the floor, spooning up a dish of oatmeal and milk.
"This is delicious, slave," I told Ann-Marie. "I expect you to keep feeding me and serving me in the style that I deserve."
Ann-Marie finished her oatmeal as I continued to eat. "Thank you, Mistress. What else can I do for you?"
I reached down and took hold of her curvy young ass, nudging her to move under the table. Without looking, I simply raised my bare left foot. Ann-Marie knew what to do. I felt the sensation of her sweet young Swedish tongue lapping at my toes and sole. It felt incredibly good.
"Good God, foot worship is divine," I remarked aloud, feeling the bliss of command as Ann-Marie did exactly what she was supposed to: please her Mistress without question.
"How much do you love getting down and worshipping my feet, slave?" I said in a firm voice.
Ann-Marie paused for just a moment. "I would rather lick your soles than taste those blueberry pancakes I made for you, Mistress. Thank you for letting me worship your beautiful feet."
I was getting far too excited for my own good. I had to keep on training Ann-Marie. At last, I gently pulled my foot away and told her to get a basin to rinse me off with warm water. She complied.
After that, I told her I was going out. "Do the dishes and sweep up those dust bunnies in the living room while I'm gone. I want this place immaculate. I'll be back by noon."
I took the ten-speed bike that was sitting in the foyer and headed out for a ride along the river. It was a gorgeous day outside, but my mind kept straying back to the apartment, and Ann-Marie, my young, willing slave, doing my bidding inside. I couldn't stay out for long. I stopped off at Powell's Books and picked up the new Isabel Allende novel. I could barely focus as I paid the cashier. I had to get back.
When I turned the key and opened the door, I just stopped and stared. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Ann-Marie was curled up on the couch, dressed in a long grey Portland State basketball T-shirt, chattering away in Swedish on her cell phone. The broom, with its long red plastic handle, sat untouched in the corner next to the dustpan. The dust bunnies were equally untouched.