I took a walk around the apartment. It was spacious, two master bedrooms, a guest room, study, dining room, lounge, huge kitchen with a big island, and even a small gym. At the very end of the long hallway, past the laundry room, was what can only be described as a cell. It was a small, bare room with a single bed and a tiny window. The lock was on the outside of the door. There was a nightstand with an alarm clock. It had a small bathroom attached, with a shower stall, toilet and sink. On the sink was a new toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, unscented deodorant and a packet of disposable razors. There was also a big bottle of lotion, and in the shower there was a bottle of shampoo. In the little closet was a single pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, a pair of sneakers, two towels and a box of tampons. I was clearly not an impulse purchase.
I headed back to what was obviously my new owner's bedroom and had a look around. The walk-in closet was obviously shared, women's clothes on one side, men's on the other. I checked the labels. These guys had expensive tastes. She had some very expensive handbags, he had a collection of watches, some of the brands I'd never even heard of. In a plastic tub behind her dresses were a selection of sex toys; dildos, cock rings, a magic wand, a strap-on dildo (!) and a large paddle with holes drilled in it. I made sure I put it back exactly how I found it.
There was a full laundry hamper in the corner - time to make a good impression.
I carried the hamper down to the laundry room and began sorting. He seemed to have fairly pedestrian tastes in underwear - plain Calvins, but she seemed to really like delicate lingerie. I know I shouldn't have, (what if they have hidden cameras?) but I couldn't help but press a pair of panties to my face. There was a faint smell of sweat, a little urine, but mostly feminine arousal. I felt like she had had an orgasm wearing these. Guiltily, I shoved them in the machine with the rest, and started a delicates cycle.
I headed back to the kitchen. The dishwasher was clean, but full, so I slowly and carefully emptied it. It took a while in that large kitchen to work out where everything went, then I rinsed the dishes that were in the sink and stacked them in the dishwasher.
By the time I was done, the washer had finished, so I transferred the load to the dryer on low.
I was now at a bit of a loss - it was eleven pm, and no sign of my owners. As I walked across the kitchen I felt a sticky patch on my bare feet, so I went looking for a mop. There wasn't one anywhere in the apartment, but there was a scrubbing brush in a bucket in the laundry room. I filled the bucket with soapy water, and took it to the kitchen, and began to scrub the floor on my knees. I was about halfway done when I heard the front door open, and quickly got to my feet. I stood with my feet tightly together, hands clasped behind my back, eyes down.
Footsteps came into the kitchen.
"Who the fuck are you?!" A male voice demanded.
I stammered, surprised, "I'm, I'm your new slave, didn't you buy me today?"
"I didn't buy a slave." He said shortly. I didn't know what to say.
Then I heard him on the phone. "Hi Babe, anything you forgot to tell me? ... Well, she's here." He walked over to the fridge, and I risked a quick look. He was your classic tall, dark and handsome, wearing a nice suit. Cool!
He turned back toward me, and I quickly looked down again.
"Well, she seems to have done the dishes, want me to have her do anything else? ... Ok, see you in soon."
"Well," he said, "it seems my wife bought you, so you are indeed our new slave."
"Yes, master," I said, "I was just scrubbing the floor, may I continue?"
"Well, sure," he said, "go ahead."
I got back down on my knees, dipped the brush in the bucket and continued. I turned round as I scrubbed, until I was facing away from him. My paper smock covered nothing, and I was sure he was watching my ass wiggle. I parted my legs a little. I didn't want to be too wanton right away, but I wanted him to see my cunt. I wished I could look around, but I didn't dare. I kept scrubbing, but my pussy was getting damp. I wondered if he was getting hard. I hope he liked what he saw.
I kept scrubbing. I couldn't tell if he was even still in the room, but I kept displaying myself as if he was.
Then I heard the front door again. The click of heels.
A female voice, "Well, what do you think of her?" The voice was familiar. Dammit, where did I know her from? The TV maybe? Was she famous?
"She sure has a nice ass," he said, "and she's not trying to hide it."
"No, I'm not surprised, she's a total slut - take a look at this history."
There was a pause, then he gave a low whistle. "She's not just a slut, she's a total whore!"
He wasn't not wrong. Even hearing them talk about me like that was getting me wet.
"And if you like her ass, wait 'till you see her tits. Girl, stand up!"
I quickly scrambled to my feet and turned toward her. She stepped over to me, and in one swift motion, ripped my paper smock off. I was stark naked again.
"Damn!" He exclaimed.
"And they're natural," she continued, giving my left boob a squeeze, "come try."
He came over and fondled me too. "Nice and firm," he agreed.
I was trying to work out how I knew her, and I risked a glance at her face. Shit! It was the woman from the slave auction who inspected me, the one who I thought ate my pussy!
But she was looking right at me when I looked up, and we made eye contact. In a flash she slapped me hard across the face, making me stagger sideways and clutch my cheek.
"How dare you make eye contact with me, you filthy slave whore! James, fetch the paddle, she needs to be punished."
"Now darling, it was just a mistake! I'm sure she won't do it again, will you?"
"No!" I sputtered, "I promise! I'm so sorry, mistress!"
"No," she said firmly, "it's important to give no quarter in these matters, or they take advantage. James, please fetch it."
He relented and headed to the bedroom.
"And the cuffs," she called after him.
He returned with the paddle I found earlier and a pair of handcuffs.
"Hands behind you, slut." She commanded, and he snapped the cuffs on me.
She turned me toward the kitchen island, and he quickly moved a bowl of fruit out of the way. She pushed me up against the counter, then bent me over until my tits were pressing on the cold marble.
"Hold her."
He walked around the island so he was by my head, and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, pinning me down.
"Now, slut, the sooner you learn the rules, the fewer punishments you'll get, understand?
"Yes, mistress, I'm sorry!"
