In Her Service. Various

to adopt when waiting to serve his Mistress. Madame Venus ignored him as she took a bite of the chocolate-topped doughnut he had bought her, then a swallow of coffee. The lines of her dark, handsome faced creased into a frown.

      ‘This has no sugar in it.’

      ‘Sorry, Mistress, but …’

      ‘Shut up, you little piece of dirt. Did I say you could speak?’

      David shook his head. She extended one booted foot, pressed it against his chest and pushed. He rolled back onto the floor as she extended one heavy arm, holding out the cup of coffee. He stayed down, making no effort to defend himself beyond closing his eyes as she tipped the mug sideways, to pour out hot liquid onto his body, deliberately soaking his hair and the tight cotton underpants that were his only garment. Only when she’d allowed the final drop to splash onto the bare skin of his chest did she speak.

      ‘Make me another coffee, and make it properly. Then you can clean up this mess.’

      He scrambled up again, but instead of going to make the coffee as he had been ordered he resumed his kneeling position, this time with one hand raised, the signal that he wanted permission to speak. Madame Venus drew a heavy sigh.

      ‘Yes, what is it?’

      David found his voice cracking as he replied.

      ‘Please, Mistress, may your humble slave respectfully suggest that you should … might benefit from, and I’m only thinking of your health, Mistress, but … maybe you should lose a little weight? So I thought, maybe, no sugar in your coffee, and that’s a low calorie doughnut, with … with …’

      He trailed off, looking up at her from his position at her feet, kneeling in the pool of spilt coffee. She was sat on a bar stool at the kitchen work surface, her legs crossed so that the toe of one of her highly polished black boots was within inches of his face. The boots were knee high and fastened with criss-crossed laces he’d tied himself as he helped her dress. Fishnet stockings showed above her boot tops, covering full, dark thighs all the way up to the hem of the black leather miniskirt that encased her hips. A tightly laced corset held in the bulge of her stomach and lifted her huge breasts into prominence. The sight left him weak at the knees, with his cock straining uncomfortably within the chastity device he was obliged to wear whenever he visited her. But for all the awe inspired by her body there was simply too much of it for the perfection her craved.

      David knew how the perfect Mistress should look. He had devoured literature on female domination ever since the awakening of his submissive sexuality. A true Mistress was tall and powerful, and Madame Venus was all of that, but the ideal was also slender, with a tiny, wasp waist in contrast to feminine but elegant hips and a full, firm chest. Madame Venus had breasts so huge he could barely support them properly with two hands, along with a bottom so well fleshed that when he was being queened he couldn’t even see, let alone breathe. Everything about her made him ache with need, but it was simply too much and he knew that in order to excite the envy of his friends as well as answer his sexual needs she would need to lose three or maybe four stone in weight.

      She hadn’t answered him, apparently struck dumb by his sheer insolence, but he was determined to persevere.

      ‘I mean no disrespect, Mistress, but …’

      ‘Shut up! You … you …’

      She was lost for words, but not action. One hard thrust from the sole of her boot and he was back on the floor, grovelling in the spilt coffee as he babbled out apologies and yet continued to press his point.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mistress. Please forgive your humble slave, but I’m only thinking of your health, and … and …’

      He broke off with a sharp cry. She had stood up, tugged her skirt high and pulled the lacy black panties beneath to one side, and without any warning at all let go a thick, golden stream of urine. It splashed against his chest and into his face, filling his open mouth to overflowing, and lower, to soak his underpants, leaving the shape of his chastity device showing beneath the wet cotton. He grovelled down, shaking as he was slowly and carefully pissed on, his body soiled from head to toe, until she had shaken off the last few golden droplets into his hair.

      ‘Pants down, face on the floor, you can lick that up while I beat you.’

      David hurried to get into position, lapping at the mess on the floor even as he stripped himself behind and lifted his haunches. She pulled open a drawer and took out a heavy wooden stirring spoon, which he knew from experience hurt every bit as much as her more elaborate toys. Normally he was spanked by hand first, but this time she didn’t bother and smacked the spoon down on his naked, sodden flesh with the full strength of her arm. He screamed, but he was licking at the floor again in seconds and continued to do so as he was beaten and lectured on his disrespect.

      Madame Venus made her points well, punctuating her remarks with hard slaps to David’s buttocks. She reminded him that he was her property, to do with as she pleased, that he had no right to criticise her in any way whatsoever, that her word was law and her body an object of worship. He barely heard. His mouth was full of the mess from the floor and his buttocks ablaze, his cock straining in its confinement as his excitement rose. Finally he was pushed over the edge, spunk erupting from his agonised cock despite the restraint.

      * * *

      For two weeks David lived a life of constant frustration and growing fear. His attempt at persuading Madame Venus to become his ideal had ended with him being thrown out of her house with his underwear still soiled and soggy beneath his clothes, his buttocks a mass of bruises and his chastity device tightened another two notches. Madame Venus held the key.

      At first the situation had been uncomfortable but highly arousing, so much so that even the awkward process of cleaning himself up had left him shaking with desire. He had rung Madame Venus, intending to thank her for the experience, apologise for his behaviour and perhaps ask if she had thought about what he’d said. His number had been blocked. For days he waited before trying her number again, telling himself he was being punished and that she would call him when he had served his sentence. He remained blocked.

      She had ordered him to stay away from her house, but after a week his resolve broke. He went to her, expecting to be beaten for his insolence, only to find the curtains drawn and the door firmly locked. Listening through the letterbox, he could hear the sound of her voice and another, mingled with laughter that hurt more than any whip or cane. As he walked back towards the bus stop through chilling rain he was again telling himself that he was being punished, that it was just, and that it would all be worthwhile in the end. His confidence was superficial, and hid a growing concern, that she had not only abandoned him, but would leave him in chastity, which meant that eventually he would be forced to make an agonisingly embarrassing trip to hospital to have his device removed.

      His suspicions grew stronger across the second week. Every day he called her and every day he sneaked round to her house, to meet with the same wall of silence. He began to experience bursts of panic and long periods of misery and self-recrimination, until the strongest of his emotions was despair and only in an occasional fit of optimism would he feel that she would eventually let him back into her life, and take on board his advice.

      Two weeks to the day she had thrown him out his phone rang. When he heard her voice he went straight to his knees, begging forgiveness and offering himself up for any punishment she chose to give, just as long as he could visit her. She took her time over her decision, openly enjoying his hurt and frustration, before telling him to present himself at her house the following day, in ordinary clothes but with frilled pink knickers underneath, a touch he always found particularly humiliating.

      He obeyed, counting the minutes until he was permitted into her presence and arriving at her house nearly an hour early. She made him wait in the street, either indifferent or amused by his embarrassment under the curious stares of passers-by. Finally he was admitted, and fell to his knees the moment the door had closed behind him, then grovelled down further still, to kiss at the bright red heels she was wearing, only for her to draw back.