Pet and Mistress Sunday Morning


This is part four of “Pet Needs a Good Home.” I should have arranged the titles better but I’m just having fun writing this fantasy and hope others enjoy this series too.”Pet Needs a Good Home” was part one. “Pet has good home” was part two. “Pet and friend at home”was part three.

Sunday, the very next day after I took a woman into my home as my slave.

I roll over in my bed wondering if I have to go to work. Realizing it’s Sunday, not Monday, I’m greatly relieved. I stretch languidly and almost rip my satin sheets. “Oops!” I think, “I’m still wearing stiletto heels. I must be more careful.” Then I remember that I own a slave who is chained to the foot board of my bed .

I must think! “What do I do?” I wonder. I remember that Sally and I had a wonderful evening with my slave, then Sally went home around 1am. I simply dragged my slave to my bed, locked her leash to the foot of my bed and collapsed, still wearing my corset and boots.

I see my slave stir, obviously sensitive to the movements of her Owner, ME! Her permanent steel bracelets are still locked close to her collar with a foot of chain. Her ankles still chained with a foot of chain and two heavy padlocks, another three foot chain from her anklet padlocked to the foot board. She looks at me with devotion in her eyes, crawls to kiss my boots. “Good heavens!” I think as she takes my left boot in her hand and lavishes wet sloppy kisses on it, “What do I do now?”

I haven’t even had a cup of coffee. My mouth feels like a dirty sock. But this woman has made me wet already.

I spread my legs and point to my cunt. “Serve your Mistress,” I command.

My slave crawls to between my legs with her collars, bracelets, and anklets clinking, her chains jingling slightly. Her instant obedience excites me in a flash. “How can this woman arouse me in a heartbeat?” I wonder in amazement.

She opens my labia lips with her fingertips devoutly. Gently, adoringly, she licks my slit as if partaking of a holy sacrament. I moan with pleasure at her reverent ministrations. She kisses my clit at you might kiss a newborn infant. I soar to unimagined heights. Strangely, images of fluffy clouds, blue skies, startling bursts of sunshine, and Renaissance art flood my mind. I cum in seconds, immense waves of joy that will not stop. I lift my hips to press against her mouth. I orgasm for what must be five minutes. Of course I do not look at my bed stand clock to time it.

I collapse expended. My slave tenderly kisses and licks my cunt.

I am astounded. I look down at my chained slave who looks at me with reverence, simply eager for further commands. I’m falling in love with this woman. “What is best for an owned slave?” I ponder.

I kick her away with the sharp heel of my boot. I crawl down my bed and unlock the chain from her anklet, leaving the chain there for future use.

“Fetch coffee for me slave” I command. “You will find ‘Half And Half’ in the refrigerator Add about ¼ inch of creamer to my big blue coffee mug which is is the cabinet over the stove to the left. And hurry. If you are not back in 5 minutes it will be 5 lashes.”

“YES my Mistress!” she squeaks. “Slave hurries!” she says as she scurries out of the bedroom and down the stairs, her foot of ankle chain jingling.

I finally unlace my thigh high boots. I’ve worn these about 18 hours. I must be stupid but they are fabulous and were expensive. There are many laces on the back of each boot. I will remember to have my slave help me into and out of these in the future,” I decide. I slip them off and place them carefully in my closet with my dozens of other fetish shoes and boots. These are one of my favorites.

My corset is a different matter. I love the feel of my midriff compressed with tight leather or rubber. I want a tiny waist. A corset make me feel elegant, sexy, delightfully perverted in the finest sense of the concept. I don’t want to unlace it but must to bathe. It always saddens me to remove a corset. I reluctantly reach behind my back, untie the laces, unhook the busks on the front, and slip it off. Sitting on the edge of my bed naked I think sadly, “My hair must be a rat’s nest and my makeup a Beylikdüzü escort smudged mess too.”

“Where’s my damned slave?” I think ” I want my coffee!”

Just then my slave shuffles into the bedroom in her short steps, my huge mug of coffee in her hands. She seems to do everything very well with her wrists locked close to her collar. “I may keep her this way most of the time but I’ll have to devise an exercise program for her,” I think. She looks worried that she took so long. I glance at the clock on my bed stand. It has been 6 minutes. I owe her 5 lashes.

I take my coffee from my slave’s hands, take a healthy sip, and set it on the night stand near my bed.

“Kneel for punishment slave,” I order picking up the riding crop from last night still on the table.

She kneels next to my bed, bends far over, exposing her back.

I pick up my coffee and enjoy another sip. I’m not upset with her at all but must follow through. I absentmindedly start lashing at her. “One, Two, ThreeFourFive,” I announce while lightly whipping her ass and back.

“Thank You for improving this unworthy slave,” she says.

“Wait a moment,” I think. “Was that heartfelt or just perfunctory?” I’m not convinced that she meant it.

I lean back and give her one more very HARD lash on her upturned rump.

“That was to remind you that you are only my slave,” I state rather plainly.

“Thank You my Mistress,” she whispers.”This wretched slave will strive to improve.” She seems sincere. I accept her statement.

I try to seem domineering but I’m only half awake. “Aww shit, gotta pee,” I think, “and I bet she does too. How does a slave owner and slave do that?” I wonder. I take a healthy gulp of my coffee while considering the matter.

‘There’s only one way to do this,” I decide with determination. “I must give her the most depraved experiences I can create,” I think even though it is not exactly my thing.

I grab her ponytail, yank her head up, and lock a leash on her lower collar.

“Come slave,” I command and drag her into my bathroom.

I push her onto her back on the cold tile floor. Squatting over her mouth, I order, “Drink, swallow, do not miss a drop,” and I pee. Obediently, she opens her mouth wide and takes my stream. I’m impressed. I drank a lot last night. That could be almost a pint. This is not sexy to me but it is tyrannical. This wondrous woman does not even blink. She just swallows, then licks me clean when I’ve finished.

I stare down at her between my spread legs, leashed, always chained, pounds of stainless steel permanently on her. She looks up at me expectantly, eagerness in her eyes, only wondering how to serve further it seems. My pussy throbs. “Owning a slave is incredibly erotic,” I think. “It’s impossible to even look at her and not be turned on.”

“You may use the toilet if you need,” I say rather plainly. She shuffles to the toilet in her short steps, sits and pees.

“Thank you my Mistress,” she whispers. “Your slave is grateful.”

I wipe her slit with a tissue since she can’t with her wrists chained close to her collar. Then I give her an old toothbrush I use to clean the faucets. We both brush our teeth, boring, but important, especially after her morning “drink.”

“Come slave,” I command, “time to shower. I open the glass door to my shower and turn on the water. She waits meekly on her leash while I remove the padlocks and chain to her bracelets, actually releasing her wrists. I bend down and remove the padlocks and chain from her anklets too. I’m glad all the huge padlocks use the same key. I now wear one on a plain necklace. The many spares are kept in my locked desk drawer.

When the water is comfortably warm, I step in pulling my slave behind me. I padlock her leash around the assist bar on the wall just for effect. “This will be interesting,” I think. I adjust the four shower heads in my rather elaborate shower.

I guide her under the water. I remove the simple hair band of her ponytail, pleased that her roots are blond. Placing the hair band in the soap dish, I run my fingers through her hair. “Gorgeous hair!” I think combing it with my fingers Beylikdüzü escort so it lays all the way down her back. I’m a bit jealous that all of her whorish makeup is tattooed on, no worries about removing and reapplying it ever. My slave stands obediently letting me position her anyway I choose, her eyes locked on me intently, attentive to my every move.

Taking a face cloth from the small holder, I wet it, apply a small glop of my moisturizer body gel, and wash off my icky ruined makeup. Again, I’m actually jealous of my slave’s permanent makeup. I rinse the cloth, wring it out, and consider how to proceed.

At first I was going to order her to shampoo my hair but now I think it would be more fun if I wash my “pet” first. Like most people, I only shampoo every two or three days. I don’t want to dry out my hair and wreck it plus there’s not enough time during the work week. But we got a tiny bit sweaty and Sunday is a day off so shampoo it is.

“Stay slave,” I command. “Close your eyes.” I move her under the main shower head to thoroughly wet her hair, then slightly move her out of the water.

After pouring a palm size puddle of conditioner into my hand, I rub my hands together and start at her scalp. Her hair is so long and thick it takes many strokes to work in the conditioner. Conditioner first protects the hair and I plan to keep my property in good condition. After all, I take my car to a car wash every week and pay extra for the wax so I’ll maintain this property too.

Grabbing her leash close to her collar, I move her under the main shower head and take the hand held wand from its holder. I drench her hair and run my hand along the length of it squeezing out as much conditioner as I can.

Shampoo next… rinse… repeat.

Just for fun, I hold the hand held wand between her legs pointed up. My slave’s lips part, her huge bosom rises and falls. I smile, turn off the wand and put it back on its holder.

“Open your eyes slave. Now do my hair. Conditioner first,” I command.

My hair is much shorter, shoulder length, and it does not take her long to do a beautiful job. Her fingers tenderly massaging my scalp and neck feel delightful.

After the second shampoo and rinse I order, “enough slave. Stop. Now we will wash each other. As I open my eyes I see that she looks particularity pleased.

“Yes my Mistress,” she whispers reverently. “A slave is honored if permitted to touch You.”

“I’m going to have my hands on every inch of your body slave and you had better do the same to me,” I command trying to sound stern but can’t help smiling.

My slave smiles slightly too. “Of course my Mistress.”

Picking up my lavender and honey scented body gel, I squeeze a dollop into my hand, nod at my slave who presents her palms to me, and I give her a healthy amount too. She pauses a moment looking at me for instructions.

Saying nothing, I stroke my soapy hands from her shoulders down to her tummy, swirling around her breasts on the way. I lift and drop her nipple rings a few times washing around them for several seconds.

My slave’s breathing deepens, apparently overwhelmed momentarily by my attentions, but starts at my shoulders too. Soon she is massaging my breasts, sliding her hands around behind my back.

We both collect our thoughts, reining in our passion for at least a moment, and actually wash each other’s arms and legs, squatting, kneeling, lifting legs as needed.

But in a moment we are pressed together, hugging and kissing, washing each other’s backs and rumps. I pull us apart a little and slide my hand between her legs. Her pussy is so smooth! I carefully wash around the six rings in her labia lips, three on each. My pet caresses my twat, slipping a finger in me.

We are both moaning, petting each other, kissing passionately. We climax at the same time, grunting like animals.

I slouch back against the wall. My slave kneels at my feet, kissing my pubic mound repeatedly despite the lather.

“Thank You my Mistress,” she murmurs deferentially, “Thank You.”

I pull her to her feet and kiss her, lots of tongue. For the first time I wish I Escort Beylikdüzü could kiss her neck but it is covered by ten collars each a centimeter thick.

Thinking that I must remain the stern slave owner, I push her away, pick up the wand and rinse her. I turn around in the shower streams rinsing too. I turn off the water.

Stepping out of the shower, I grab a plush towel to dry myself, leaving her chained to the bar in the shower. After I wrap a towel around my hair, I toss her a towel too and a dry facecloth.

“Can you use that small cloth to dry under your jewelry?” I ask with real concern.

“Yes my Mistress,” slave replies with her characteristic whisper, and starts to dry her leash chain first which I find full of meaning. To her, the chain is more valuable than she is. She diligently pushes the small cloth under each of her bracelets, working it in and out, then her collars, then her anklets. This takes several minutes. It looks like the steel she wears was designed so you can just barely get a finger under everything, snug, not tight, each one contoured precisely to the shape of her body. Finally she dries her body and hair with the towel, wraps the towel around her hair.

I’m only half watching her while I blow dry my hair. I had wondered how she cleans under her steel and now I know it takes quite some time. My hair is dry and brushed.

Walking into my slave’s room, I select two light chains and two smaller padlocks. I return to the bathroom. Before I unlock her leash from the assist bar, I padlock the light chains to each of her nipple rings using the small padlocks. Then I use the normal large padlocks to lock the chains to her bracelets. I am permitting her more movement but not too much and it would be a bit painful if she accidentally reaches too far.

I have always loved chains like these. Every pet store and pet department in big stores sell chromed choker chains. You can’t fool me. The huge selection of sizes are obliviously bondage toys. Why would they have three foot long choker chains? Do many people keep a buffalo as a pet that would need that size? But the chains have lovely rings at the ends and are available in many sizes and lengths. For now, my slave will have her wrists chained to her nipples by pretty light chains.

Only then do I unlock her leash from the bar and take it in my hand. Gently tugging the leash, I command, “Come slave.” I simply blow dry her gorgeous shiny blond hair and brush it. She obeys of course but seems slightly disappointed it was not something kinkier. Putting her hair back in a ponytail with a simple band, I order, “Heel me slave. I have to prepare you more for work.”

Leading her into my bedroom, I open my dresser drawer filled with sex toys. I select a remote controlled vibrating egg. In my drawer with various bondage gear I get a ball gag and four tiny padlocks.

I immediately gag her and padlock the gag behind her neck above her collars. “Get on the bed on your back slave,” I demand sternly, “On your back, raise your knees, and spread your legs wide!” she obeys.

I run my fingertips around her slit for a few seconds. I circle her clit with one finger for several seconds. It is enough. She blossoms open and moistens nicely. With no fanfare, I shove the egg in her and padlock her labia lip rings together with the other three tiny padlocks. Then I shove her legs closed and use the foot long chain and two large padlocks to chain her anklets as usual.

“Now, UP slave!” I command while turning the vibrator on its lowest setting. Going to my other dresser, I select a lovely leather waist cincher. Wrapping it around my torso, I reach behind my back to tighten the laces but I can never get them as tight as I’d like. “Lace me slave! Put some effort into it,” I command. I stand with the palms of my hands on the dresser and suck in my tummy. I feel her pull and yank and pull. It feels great!

“Good girl!” I say, taking tiny short breaths, barely able to breathe. “That’s much better than I could do by myself.” I turn her vibrator up to one third.

“I want a cheese omelet for breakfast, two eggs. You’ll find cheddar cheese and some ham in the refrigerator,” I state casually. “I’m going to do my makeup and I’ll be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Get to work slave!”

She nods, turns, and shuffles out of my bedroom. I turn her vibrator up a tiny bit before I pick up my eyebrow pencil.

…To be continued…

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