As his morning alarm went off, he woke up from his uncomfortable sleep. Took a brief moment to realize where he is – leashed and tied to an anchor in the wall, he’s been sleeping on the floor of his Mistress’s bedroom closet for the past week. It was exactly one week ago that his Mistress finally agreed to collar him after months of begging as her sub.
He took the leash off the anchor as he’s been instructed to and hurried to get everything in order before his Mistress wakes up – coffee and breakfast prepared as She likes, Her clothes laid out for her. He put in the extra effort and followed every minor instruction to avoid the daily belting he has been receiving for the past week for any small misstep – expected as part of his initial training he thought.
As his Mistress opened her eyes, he greeted her with delicate kisses on her feet – their daily morning ritual. He then served her breakfast, dried her after her morning shower, helped her get dressed, and kissed her high-heels goodbye as he went off to work.
He was still struggling at compartmentalizing his new life and getting out of sub-state at work, but a few hours in he had his head straight. Later in the afternoon his phone vibrates: “I want you naked bowing down with your head on the floor at the entrance at 5:30pm – better be on time.” He nearly choked on his coffee – even though he had asked his Mistress not to toy with him while at work, he couldn’t but enjoy the psychological domination She so often put him through – and he loved the thrill of it and the anticipation of the play that is to come.
The clock strikes 5:30pm – he’s on his knees, head bowed to the floor at the entrance. He can hear the door unlock, then the familiar sound of his Mistress’s high heels coming through the door. She wipes her soles on his head like a doormat – not a regular thing between them, something feels off.
His Mistress walks into the living room clicking her fingers for him to follow – and he follows along like a well-trained puppy. Kneeling before her with his eyes looking down, he feels the abrupt smack of her sole on the back of his head as she pushes him all the way down to the floor. Something feels very off. Next thing he hears is the swooshing sound of the belt as it comes down full force on his back. As he screams in pain, the second hit comes… then the third… then the fourth. He cries and jerks on the ground after each hit of the belt that went on for what seemed like an eternity. His mind raced trying to figure out where did he go wrong to deserve this beating – he was so sure he followed his Mistress’s orders to the letter. And the hits of the belt kept coming and coming. She was showing him no mercy.
Finally, the beating stopped – he was curled in a ball on the floor, his skin all red and bloody, numb from the pain. His Mistress walks to the couch, sits, and lights a cigarette – all the while saying nothing. He was still confused – what did he do to be beaten like an animal. Then it hits him – he crawls to his Mistress’s feet, looks her in the eye, then bows down and places a kiss of complete devotion and submission on her foot. She lifts her other foot and places it on his head.
Finally, she says: “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“What are you?”
A smile appears on her face as She knows he understands. There are no rules, and She is not his Mistress – there are her wishes and She is his Owner.