Ms. Anna Moreau - Chapter 1: A Weekend for AnnaSubmitted by: an inferior male
Although this was certainly not what I had in mind a month ago when I had that critical discussion with the lovely Anna Moreau, I suppose I count myself lucky to be here, at her place and under her spell the entire weekend, even given the conditions. I do agree with her that our relationship should be founded on the premise that I exist only to serve and please her. She has a point that someone as gorgeous and sexy and well built as her would normally never spend time with an average-joe like me. The only way she would agree to keep seeing me is if I would be totally devoted to her and expected no pleasures of any sort from her.
At the time, I knew that she was freely seeing many others, but I was so desperate to be with this babe, who was nothing short of a Goddess in my eyes, that I flat out told her I would do anything for her and would make any sacrifices that she could think to ask. That torrid conversation and the time since is, I guess, a story for another day. The long and short of it is that since then, I've spent a month locked in a highly-specialized chastity belt that permits me none of the great pleasures of life, like masturbating, or touching myself down there, or, for that matter, even getting erect. For starters, there is not much room for my cock to get large in its cage-like device before becoming painfully engorged. But worse, the cage has a row of five dulled spikes that cut cruelly into any would-be erection, causing sharp pain with the slightest hard-on, and backbreaking pain with anything resembling a normal erection. I therefore spend great amounts of time trying to avoid erections, no matter how horny I get. Since I've had only one sexual release during the last month, most of the days have in fact been filled with frustrated horniness.
That all serves, as that busty Goddess Anna so correctly informs me, to remind me that I exist now just to please and service her, and that my pleasures don't enter into the equation any more. Anything I do should be done to maximize Anna's pleasure while ensuring that mine stays at a minimum.
Three of the weekends since that conversation were spent in part in her apartment, doing housework and chores and the like for her, quite often while she would paint the town red with someone richer or stronger or handsomer than I. Well, they may be more fortunate in the short term as they get to know Anna far more intimately than I ever well, but they will never be fortunate enough to serve her as whole-heartedly as she allows only me to serve her. They will never see their infatuation and lust for her turn into adoration and love.
Two weekends ago, I took Anna out on a wild, romantic and expensive date. She allowed that privilege so I could prove my worth to her, by showing her that I could sweep her off her feet, and that I have the means to pamper a woman such as her. Along those lines, I am a software engineer and Anna decided after our date that ultimately I made just barely enough to please her, for now at least, provided I was willing to make some monetary sacrifices for her.
Ms. Anna Moreau made this weekend different though: she went away the entire weekend to one of her lover's timeshares in Aspen, leaving me here alone in her apartment the entire time to do her bidding. And, although she has left town and gone away for a longer time, I am far more under her control than before.
As I ponder my situation, watching the minutes slowly tick by on this Sunday evening, and trudge through the last few relentless chores, I try not to think about my plight. How intensely horny and desperate I am, or how my little cock is entrapped in a pink, spiked cage which I cannot remove. How the wonderfully sexy woman I lust after no doubt showed this Eric much more skin that I ever get to see. How she probably gave him many of the pleasures she denies me. While I spend the weekend as her maid. Instead, I try to think about how lucky I am to be in her life at all, and how wonderful it does feel to know that I am spending every moment of my time pleasing and serving Anna Moreau. Plus, reflecting on the time I spent with her when the weekend started, and pondering the surprise Anna has in store for the end of the weekend keeps me going.
I showed up Friday after work exactly at five. I had to get up early so I could get into work, put in my time in my "cell" as I call it and get out in time to knock on Anna's door punctually. I arrived in the neighborhood early, and parked around the corner so I could show up exactly on time, as per Anna's request. It pleased her that I had to get up extra early on her account as it was one more way of my doing something just for her benefit. I was glad to oblige her for the same reason.
I was carrying some shopping and dry cleaning I had done for her in one hand, and a bouquet of roses in the other, to show my devotion and admiration and, ultimately, love, for Ms. Moreau. I wanted to show that not only would I do her bidding without complaining, but also I was still going to sweep her off her lovely feet with spontaneous romance above and beyond what she asks of me.
"Wow, these flowers are very lovely. It makes me feel so wonderful to receive them. Knowing you are going out of your way to please me on top of everything I ask of you, well, that just makes me flat-out horny." She added with a laugh, "its a good thing I've got Eric to take care of that ‘problem' this weekend." That was all she said in regards to the flowers, which I proceeded to arrange in a vase for her.
I was dressed in my best suit and tie, shoes freshly polished, so that I could look like a dapper gentleman. This Goddess says she prefers her "boys," as she calls the males in her life, to be dressed to the nines and to go all out to look clean and presentable for her. I once tried to mention a fantasy of dressing as a scantily clad French maid for Anna, but she scoffed at the idea - another story for another time.
From head to toe, this sexy Goddess looked stunning and alluring despite her relatively tame and conservative dress. Maybe it was the bright red glossy lipstick, and matching fingernail and toenail polish, or maybe it was her perfect complexion and long, shoulder length black hair with a perfect sheen. Or maybe the sexy look in her eyes or the curves of her very sexy body, or the muscularly pronounced shape of her trim and tan calves.
Anyway, I think my eyes literally did pop out of their sockets when she let me in the apartment and I gazed upon her. Fortunately, she was most kind and helpful in finding them for me so I could put them my eyes back into place. Eric is going to be one lucky "boy" this weekend is all I can say!
It was no surprise that I would be spending the entire weekend here alone. Anna had made that clear but surprised me with a couple details. She had felt that on previous days at her apartment, I had taken too many liberties when it came to my own pleasures and creature comforts. And, as she correctly pointed out, any time I did something for myself, I was not doing my utmost to please her.
These were not huge transgressions, mind you, but she wanted to eliminate the temptation from me this weekend. For example, the last weekend, Anna noticed that I snacked from the refrigerator, had a beer and even watched a little television while I worked. This weekend, there would be none of that. Suffering and servitude and absolute devotion above all else were the central themes.
To start with, my ankles were cuffed together, to make the very act of moving a chore. I endlessly shuffled my feet in tiny steps everywhere I went, a reminder that I was in her control, that I was her servant. Even when she might be receiving oral sex on a romantic getaway of her own, my body would belong to her and even the smallest, most awkward movement was a struggle in Ms. Moreau's honor. She pointed out that I should be thankful I wasn't even more bound, rather than resentful at the ankle cuffing. Maybe sometime my legs would be fully bound so that I could only pull myself along the ground by my hands; so by comparison my current plight was no less than a gift from the Goddess of the house.
Worse yet, the very clever and sexy Goddess that I so adore also saw to it that I was handcuffed. As I had a ton of work to do in her honor over the weekend, she was thoughtful enough to cuff them in front of me. Even so, this made even the easiest of chores - pushing a vacuum or folding the laundry--maddeningly difficult and served as a very effective reminder of who was in charge. And there could be no doubt as I dusted her bookshelves in my cuffed and hobbled state that everything I did this weekend without exception was to benefit Anna Moreau. Neither she nor I would waste one moment thinking of me or my needs. Well, to be honest, while I worked awkwardly away, I must admit that I frequently thought about that cock cage and how incredibly, incredibly horny I was. The horniness drove me and spurred me on, surrounding me in a miasma of submissiveness.
Anna Moreau was watching me, very pleased at herself and her feminine powers, as I locked my ankles together, and then my wrists together - yes I had to do that degrading task all by myself as Anna couldn't be troubled to do something that she could just have me do - besides, I would've found the physical contact of her delicate hands locking me up rather exciting, a pleasure she quite enjoyed denying me. I was huddled on the ground working the wrist cuffs into place, making sure they were secure yet not dangerously constricting.
She was standing above me, just far enough to the side that I could not see under her long, tight skirt but could instead just gaze upon her calves. She wore open-toed sandals with a slight heel, so I also had her sexy feet with their dainty, feminine toes and the very bright and recently-applied red toenail polish to drool over. The Goddess was wearing a tight but not too tight blouse that showed the outline of her generous breasts without being so tight as to give too much away like the outline of a nipple. The blouse was fully buttoned so there was not even the tiniest hint of cleavage for my desperate eyes to feast upon. Although the blouse itself was sleeveless, she wore a wrap over her shoulders.
Ms. Moreau chose this outfit for my "benefit" as she did not feel she should have to show me too much skin - like a glimpse of thigh or bare shoulder for example - but rest assured dear reader that she would let Eric see her in far skimpier outfits than I'll ever see her in; I know she has many such outfits because she had me wash some of them every time I've done her chores. After all, as the all too familiar refrain would go, showing me her shoulders or cleavage or thighs or wearing a very tight top would give me quite a thrill in my horny state. Such displays would therefore be avoided around me, Anna had declared, utterly delighted with her seemingly boundless feminine prowess and charm. "I'm not cruel or sadistic as such, and I would never do anything harmful to you unless you earn such treatment, but I certainly don't want to do anything that would give you even the slightest pleasure. You are here for me, exclusively. And I am here for me, exclusively. And that's why I'm wearing this delightfully refined outfit, boy," she had explained.
Nothing Anna could ever wear, however, would make her stop looking sexy. Outfits might make her look less sexy, but from the hairs on the top of her hair right down to her lovely toes, every inch of that woman's body was alluring. And she knew it, too. So, as I was locking up and she was standing radiant in her sexy beauty, she was telling me how she was going to prevent me from so much as taking a momentary break for myself the entire weekend. I was still permitted a little sleep at night. I thanked my Mistress profusely for that privilege, even though she only granted it to keep me effective for housework throughout the weekend.
Anna, being as thorough as she is lovely, had another one of her "boys," wire the apartment with several small cameras that would be digitally recording the weekend. Some time after the weekend was over, Anna would watch parts of what the camera recorded, just to make sure I would not waver in my mission of spending the weekend - the entire weekend, every instant of it - in her honor and servitude.
I was now fully locked up, but remained kneeling, as I have taken to doing whenever in her presence, unless we were around others or unless specifically asked to do otherwise. Anna would be watching the recordings to ensure I didn't use anything for my own benefit. I would not be watching TV: not only would TV be a welcome and relaxing self-indulgent break, but I could see something on TV that the very jealous Anna would not approve of, like a cheerleader or a commercial with a beautiful model. Indeed, as little of Anna's sexy body as I was permitted to see, she wanted me, ideally, to see even less of other women, as my world was to revolve around her and her alone.
Neither the TV then, nor the radio, nor the computer was to come on. Anna was obviously taking great pleasure in telling me in her sexy voice, licking her pouty lips for emphasis, of all my restrictions for the weekend. No one could accuse Anna of not enjoying her power and superiority, or of not relishing my devotions, that's for sure. Next on the list was hot water for personal use. I could certainly use it when cleaning, for example. That one didn't bother me much. As it turns out, it's very difficult to take a shower when one's ankles are cuffed together - the pants just won't come off so I had no need for hot water!
Now, I should mention that not only did I have to arise extra early to make it to Anna's door on time, but I also spent my entire lunch hour running errands for that wondrous Goddess. This included buying the hand and ankle cuffs that I now wore. I had at the time held an illusion that this would be for something kinky, like a one-on-one bondage and tease session, but now I know, don't I?
Realistically, Ms. Moreau would never do anything kinky with me. Anything she desires sexually, she can go to someone else for, because any sort of kinky interaction between the two of us would be at least partially for my benefit. That ideology is behind almost all of her rules and decisions and decrees. And I, mired in the horniness she put me in, and totally in awe of this wonderful woman, am left helpless to argue or even disagree with her wise ways. So it is that I gladly spent the entire weekend cleaning up for her - she really does no housework at all now that I have taken that on for her.
I also had to pick up some dry cleaning of hers that I had dropped off Wednesday evening. These were mostly classier, more formal yet still sexy outfits that she would wear at her job. Anna works as a sales lady at an upscale gentlemen's clothing store. She works on a commission, which is wonderful for her. Most of her customers are men, and she chats and flirts (and bends over to show hints of cleavage) to her well-heeled customers until they become so aroused and infatuated with her that they invariably spend far more than they intended on spending. Although my lady excels at her job and enjoys the interactions and ultimately does well financially, she still resents the thought of work and would much rather be taken care of in that regard so her days would totally belong to her.
The other errand I ran was food. It turns out that while Anna vacationed this weekend, one of my chores was to cook for her, so that she'd have plenty of food throughout the week, to supplement the many dinner and lunch dates that she expects during an average week. Naturally, I did this shopping all on my own time, and with my own money. I was happy to do that for such a divine woman even though she made no offer to pay, and I knew she was all too happy to receive the gesture even though she didn't directly thank me for the time and money spent on her wonderful behalf.
So I was disappointed to say the least when Ms. Moreau stated unambiguously that the only food I was allowed to eat this entire weekend, even when the kitchen is filled with the decent smells of my admittedly amateurish cooking, would be PBJs. To drink: tap water. Anna had so many things piled on my plate for this weekend, plus I was going to be hampered by my restraints--she was only going to allow me six hours of sleep the entire weekend--so that I would be left with all the more time to serve this most deserving woman. Anna relented on the issues of drinks, somewhat, saying that I could also have as many (warm, unrefrigerated) cokes as it took to stay awake. She was most willing to grant me the pleasure of the taste in return for the extra effectiveness it would bring me.
I was disappointed at that development, and I think I let it show, because as Ms. Moreau was towering sexily over my kneeling form, she said with mock sympathy, "Ooh, that's too bad. Is the poor baby not happy with PBJs?" No matter how lowly I felt, at the same time I was very horny and turned on, and I split my time between looking at her sexy and so very kissable (and for me at least, unattainable) lips, and her sexy breasts. Even though the blouse she wore was only somewhat tight, her ample breasts still produced a shapely curve worthy of my stare. I longed so much to kiss those pouty, fully, glossy red lips of hers.
Having learned my lessons from two weeks ago when I complained about no longer being able to hug or kiss or, for now at least, even touch Ms. Moreau, I quickly told her that I was not complaining, and that I appreciated her kindness in letting me eat at all. "That's better, boy," she said. "Think of it this way, I am letting you eat as many as you want and whenever you want. I might not always be so generous."
I bowed my head down from my kneeling position, focusing my eyes on her painted toenails. "I appreciate your generosity, Mistress." I longed so much to rub those feet: I was so far gone that I wasn't even hoping for an orgasm or any sexual attention. Just to abjectly rub her feet would've been a dream come true.
Anna sent me to the kitchen to fetch her a soda. She took a seat on the sofa next to where I returned to kneeling. The Goddess had demurely crossed her sexy legs and ensured her dress didn't ride up past her knee, thus granting me a beautiful vantage point for her calves and feet and nothing more. She continued enjoying her litany, explaining that I was not to: use the telephone, use the heat, take breaks for anything except the bathroom or my six hours of sleep or my periodic PBJs. When sleeping, I was to be permitted no pillow, blanket, sheet or any other covering to guard against the cool nighttime temperatures of the early spring. It was to be the floor and me, period. "If you aren't tired enough to sleep, you should consider getting up and doing more work for me," Anna commented with a friendly wink.
Above all, Ms. Moreau decreed, I was not to tamper with in any way, shape or form, the miniature cameras.
The Goddess so enjoyed the site of me kneeling in front of her locking myself up that she declared, and knowing what I know about her I could hardly blame her, that I was henceforth barred from using any furniture. I would not be permitted to sit on a chair or a sofa or a bed or even use a table or coffee table. This would, she declared with the full feminine glory of someone totally assured of herself, always apply when I was in her presence, at least when we could "get away with it." Around, say, someone's parents she would be more lax. This latest decree would also apply any time I am alone at her apartment, where I should trod always like a humble servant of a great Goddess.
Anna was nothing if not thorough and thoughtful, so she left keys to my cuffs in a sealed quart jar, her signature on a strip of tape so that it would be impossible to open the jar without her knowing, not to mention that the omnipotent cameras were surely trained on the key. But, in case of an emergency, I had an easy route to safety. I was certainly permitted to break the rules in an emergency, for example using the phone to call for help.
Ms. Moreau was wrapping up her speech, knowing that her beau would be here shortly to take her on a weekend of carnal pleasures, which would be made all the sweeter knowing they were all pleasures denied to her most loyal and humble servant. "I am quite sure I will catch any and all transgressions. If you do something small, perhaps accidentally using hot water once to wash your hands, or maybe flipping on the TV or sitting on the sofa for the smallest fraction of a second before realize your mistake and correcting itself, you will be punished in kind, for I am ultimately a reasonable woman, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, Ma'am, you are always far kinder and more generous than you need to be."
"I thought so. But if you blatantly watch TV for more than the smallest split second, or if you eat something you aren't permitted to, or sleep with a pillow, for example, you might as well get up and leave because our relationship would be irrevocably over. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress, I do and I will not let you down, you can count on it. I would do anything to continue in your service, Ma'am."
"I am sure you will. You know, boy, right now you are still a person of free will. You could in theory get up and leave right now or at some point this weekend, not that you would for I know I am too alluring for the likes of you to walk away from." I nodded vigorously.
"Some day, this routine of cleaning for me and getting nothing in return might get too one-sided for you. Some day very soon before then, boy, I will be asking you to make a deeper commitment, a commitment from which you could not walk away. You may then choose to bind yourself to me for as long as I desire it, leaving yourself no way out. That reminds me, I have a surprise of sorts for you when I return."
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I look forward to serving you that permanently and deeply with all my heart. I want nothing more in life than to make you happy, and I hope that you will see fit to remove any chance of temptation for me."
Ms. Moreau laughed and again ran her wonderful tongue around those glossy, deep red lips that I was forbidden to kiss.
With that, as if on queue, there was a horn honking outside, and Ms. Moreau got up, and said, "Well, my ride is here, I shall be off and see you later, my boy. By the way, how do I look?" Words nearly escaped me. Despite her fairly conservative dress, Anna was a total-knockout, and I told her she was a "total knockout; an absolute hot babe!" "I'm glad you think so, then Eric will think I'm a total, total knockout and a sizzling hot babe-of-all-babes, won't he?" She asked, with that total self-confidence and complete knowledge that her looks allow her to control any male on the planet. She walked out the door, stopping just before going out to make sure that I could see her taking off her shoulder wrap, and unbuttoning a couple buttons from her blouse, I suppose to make me so acutely aware of what she does have, even if I can't see it. That way I could know exactly the glorious sexuality of the person I was serving, and at the same time be reminded of my place, as an unworthy servant for whom bare shoulders, nipples, cleavage, bare backs, bellies, and thighs are all off limit.
"Have a fantastic weekend, my lady."
"I will, and you be productive now, you hear?"
"Yes, Ma'am, it will be my honor to."
With that, she was gone, and I was alone. Following the routine we established my last cleaning weekend, I got up, straightened out after kneeling so long, and without further ado, went to the kitchen counter where her chore list was awaiting my attentions. The list was long, but I knew the Goddess didn't necessarily expect me to finish it, only to have worked sincerely and productively the entire weekend. Any extra time could be spent "worshipping and idolizing" her.
I will not bore you, faithful reader, with the mundane details of the weekend; there is not much one can say about mopping a floor to make it sexy. As you read about the tasks, remember that I am doing all this while my ankles are hobbled together, causing me to only be able to scoot rather than walk. Working with my hands chained together took a lot of getting used to; wherever one hand went, the other hand had to go. Still, I managed, slowly but surely, and behaved with the utmost decorum, so as to not disappoint my Goddess, in the hopes that she would soon deem me worthy of taking a deeper step into the mystique of serving her.
Now that Anna, who enjoys being lazy and served, knows that she has reliable and faithful cleaning help on demand whenever she wants it, she has totally ceased to do any chores whatsoever. She neither washed a dish nor put up any clothes since the last time I cleaned for her. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was done between my cleaning visits. Since I had done so much last weekend, the cleaning wasn't as bad this weekend, except that new chores had been added to the list: the laundry, including hand-washing each dirty bra, panty and hose; vacuuming; the dishes; dusting everything; scrubbing the bathroom clean, including cleaning the toilet and shower until they were "immaculately clean"; mopping the kitchen; cooking and refrigerating several meals for the Goddess so that she would have home-cooked food at her convenience next week; putting away everything that had been left out, stuff like CDs and magazines that I could not listen to or look at, also of note were a couple dildos, including a menacing looking dildo-gag; making her bed with newly laundered sheets.
Anna had also requested some other tasks of me this weekend that aren't "cleaning" as such, but still serve to keep her life as carefree as I possibly can make it for her: alphabetizing her CDs, organizing file cabinets of old papers such as bills and the like. And, so I set about the chores, faithfully and lovingly, carefully shuffling along, careful to not have a mental lapse and sit on a chair for even a second, or get a drink from the refrigerator without thinking.
The laundry was by far the most intriguing chore; the house Goddess made sure of that. For one thing, it was a sexy turn-on (which caused a good deal of pain in my groin thanks to the sharp points on my chastity device until I got better at controlling myself) just to see these sexy outfits and imagine them on Anna. I would never see her in the short shorts, tight skirts, sleeveless t-shirts or bikinis that I did in the laundry. Anna only very rarely lifts a finger when it comes to being served. She likes me as her servant to work automatically, so that she does not have to spend any effort to be pleased and served and worshipped. With the laundry, though, she made a teasing exception - Ms. Moreau attached sticky notes to several of the outfits, panties and bras, indicating what she did in them, or who saw them in the outfit, who took them off her and what came of the evening.
There was a sleeveless crop top pink shirt with "Tease" written in big black letters right across where her breasts would sit in the top. Laundering it, I couldn't help notice how it seemed smaller than the clothes she wears around me. The note on this outfit indicated it is what Ms. Moreau wore Thursday evening when one of her "boys" came over to install and test the cameras that were stashed around her apartment in anticipation of my service this weekend. Judging from the size of the tease top, this fellow would've gotten a very, very nice display of breasts, both in terms of cleavage appearing over the low-cut top, and in terms of the curve of Ms. Moreau's breasts pressing out against the tight shirt. I was quite sure that she would've been showing him some of her sexy belly too, as short as the shirt was. Matching with this was a pair of low-rider jeans a full size thinner than she would normally wear, so our camera man could've follow every movement of Anna's wondrous hips. I was so jealous, yet I kept about the laundry chores without pausing.
Now, I must confess that I am not a keen observer of sizes, but Anna made it easy to do the comparison, since she also another outfit that was lying around the bedroom I was so attentively cleaning for her. This was the outfit she wore on Wednesday, when I stopped by briefly to pick up the shopping list from her and some dry cleaning of hers that needed to be dropped off. So it was easy to tell that the "Tease" shirt was smaller, tighter and lower cut, and that the jeans were tighter and lower-cut themselves.
The camera man's pile indicated that he did get to see Anna's panties and bra, I noted with a mix of resignation, jealousy and determination to keep productive at my chores, although what happened beyond that was left up to my imagination. Most likely, knowing Anna, she got her boy all hot and bothered stripping down for him, connived some oral sex out of him until she was satisfied, and then either gave him a half-hearted hand job or sent him on his way, with promises of more later if he was a good boy today. I never received such an option; I opted to be a good boy, a servant to a Goddess, before ever being offered or shown anything so fantastically sexy.
Anyway, yesterday, Anna had worn a hot red lacy thong that looked like it would've ridden up high enough to be glimpsed under her low-riding jeans. Having never seen any flesh of hers between the shoulders and knees, I could only guess, but I had a pretty good idea her ass would look exceedingly sexy framed in those red thong panties that I would soon be respectfully hand-washing. The Goddess's breasts are by their very nature quite pert, round and sizeable so my jaw must've dropped noticeably enough for all the cameras to pick up when I put the lacy blue push-up bra into the laundry basket. I tried hard to imagine (while continuing to work, mind you), Anna's already perfect breasts being pushed up and out and made even bouncier.
I would have to live with just imagining that visual. I noted that in the pile of Wednesday clothes, those that Anna had worn for me when I came by were quite vanilla: non-descript cotton panties and a matching white bra that was anything but a push-up. I was never to granted a glimpse of bra, not even a strap peeking out, or panties, while being worn by Anna, yet she still made sure to keep me in my place. After all, in her thinking wearing a push-up bra or showing cleavage or wearing a tight shirt would only serve to give me too much pleasure, as would imagining her wearing a thong. I would settle, happily as I had no choice, for enjoying the unaided shape of her breasts, sans cleavage, and imagining the cotton panties that she wore in my presence.
Of all the outfits I laundered for Ms. Moreau, the least sexy by far was the one I had seen her in on Thursday. Only slightly sexier than that was the one she wore before leaving Friday. Now, these outfits were still hot, and even a bit sexy, it's just that I noted they paled by comparison. Once the shoulder wrap was removed and a couple buttons undone, the outfit as Eric saw it had suddenly become very hot and sexy indeed.
The most depressing chore was cooking Saturday night. After what had now been four straight meals of PBJs, the spaghetti dinner with garlic bread I was cooking and subsequently refrigerating for the Goddess's use later smelled fantastic, divine even. I longed so much to eat it all up or even just taste a little, but I refrained, for fear of punishment or, worse yet, being estranged permanently from my Goddess, and settled on another PBJ - this time with double peanut butter as a special treat--as my bedtime snack.
Other than doing the laundry, the chores were very mundane. I swept, mopped, did dishes, and lovingly cleaned the gunk out of her shower and toilet in my awkward handcuffed way.
I slept Friday night for two and a half hours starting around 4:00 in the morning when I had become totally ineffectual. Even so, it still took me a good half hour to get to sleep, as cold and hard as the floor was, and as hobbled as I was. I had taken my shoes off an hour or so earlier for comfort, but had to leave the socks on for warmth; it wasn't chilly just yet at this time of year, just cool. Eventually I did go to sleep and all too soon the alarm went off with its cruel and heartlessly incessant drone. I turned it off, hobbled to the restroom, peed sitting down which is the only way I can do that task in the chastity belt, splashed some water on my face and spent a minute waking myself up washing my face with warm water, using one of the washcloths that I had not yet laundered, started my chores and thereafter it was all business, barring the occasional break for a PBJ and a tap water or lukewarm soda.
It was an odd mix of dreary and exciting - each time the cuffs presented a new limitation to me, I was frustrated and turned on anew. It was mundane and enticing - each time I thought even for a minute about why I was doing this for that superior woman, my cock pulsed with excitement. And when the pulsing would get too extreme, the sharp points would press painfully into my sorry cock.
Saturday night was much the same routine. It did not take too long to get to sleep, this time at just after 3:00, as I was so tired from the night before. Saturday night, I set the alarm for only three hours of sleep, even though Anna would've let me had an extra half hour on top of that. I had taken recently to doing more than asked for, to show Anna that I am serving her out of my own desire to please her and not just because I was ordered to do so. Sleeping six hours would've been fine with her, and would've showed how well I can follow orders; sleeping five and a half did all that and also showed her that I can exceed her harsh expectations.
I was a zombie, and a cuffed one at that, and my chores suffered as I walked through Sunday in a daze and the handcuffs and ankle cuffs were getting ever more frustrating and chafing even though I was starting to learn better and better how to work in them. And yet, by having woken a half hour earlier than I needed to, I could do extra work, which could be viewed just as a gift, a token of my admiration, a little humble sacrifice at the Goddess' altar.
Anna Moreau, thinking of me as nothing more than her faithful little slave boy, did not bother to tell me when she would be home. Nor had I been audacious enough to inquire. I figured it would be late evening, so that she could spend as much time with Eric as possible and get as much work out of me as possible. Nevertheless, around the early evening, I started getting antsy. I was about to finish the myriad chores I had been left, and time seemed to slow to an absolute crawl as I anticipated my Goddess appearing any minute now.
I also did not know if Anna would spend thirty seconds with me, just long enough to show me the door, or if she would grace me with her presence for longer. Around 10:00, I had finished all the chores and had polished off yet another of those completely uninteresting PBJ and lukewarm coke combinations. Anna could appear in a minute, or could even come in the wee hours of Monday morning for all I knew. Such was the state of my horniness, that even that uncertainty created an exciting electricity in my long-denied little cock.
As I was under explicit and understandable orders to not idle, I took it upon myself to prepare a bath for Ms. Moreau. I made it a green-tea themed: green tea bubble bath with a pot of decaffeinated green tea waiting by the side, with some votive candles ready to be lit when the time came. Imides the bath very, very hot and put a tray of ice cubes next to it, so that it would be still warm whenever my superior chose to arrive, and could be quickly cooled off. Not that Anna would need to unwind as she would have had no stress from which to unwind, but it never hurts to try to pamper the object of one's affection.
For my part, with my sore feet and aching, tired body, the bath was almost as tempting as her bed was when I put new sheets on it, careful to not get up on the bed for even a second. With a sigh, I refrained, just getting my hand wet periodically to judge the temperature. Both the bed where my Goddess would sleep and take on countless lovers, and the bath where she would relax in naked luxury provided me with painfully kinky images that made my cock surge until the budding hard-on caused wracking pain.
I finished the tableau by setting up but not turning on a CD player with a relaxing and sexy Sade CD, noting again with that submissive spout of sudden horniness that came from so much frustration and servitude, that I am setting up for her to use something I let myself be denied, for no other reason that she wished to deny me. I was not quite yet irrevocably bound to her, but in every other sense I was totally and helplessly hers. And willingly so.
My timing is divine, because just now as I finish preparing the bath and sit down - no, actually kneel down--starting to write a love letter to Anna, I hear the sound of a key, followed by the door opening to reveal my Goddess, the one and only Anna Moreau, in full radiant glory come again to grace this pathetic wretch of a servant with her priceless attention and beauty. She looks very relaxed and well cared-for and like she is immensely pleased with herself. Her eyes have something devilish about them.
What she says to me would change my life forever.
Page last updated 04-Dec-24 by: Altairboy@aol.com