This is a work of fiction. Copyright 2011. Any praise, criticism, or comments are to be sent to me: Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com
Enjoy!
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September 5th
It's been hard, these evenings, to come home and start cooking YOUR meal for YOU without being able to ask what it is YOU might like. Knowing that if what I've cooked displeases YOU, the clock then resets and the year starts anew. I'm grateful that I've already had a year of practice to learn YOUR tastes. My work in catering makes me at least a little talented in trying new spices to flavor YOUR food in ways I hope are pleasing. Like a good servant, I quietly stand behind YOU at the table, ready to pour more wine or add another serving of anything YOU might like. (Once soon after YOU first moved in, I made the mistake of setting the table for two. YOU made it clear that my sitting with YOU ruins YOUR appetite.) Only after YOU have finished YOUR meal do I allow myself anything to eat, eaten quickly while cleaning up the kitchen for YOU.
I need to thank YOU, also, for how these new protocols have turned simple tasks into chances to thank and please YOU. Today was a day off and I spent it doing chores around the house. Dusting, vacuuming, laundry. But now I am aware of each speck of dust, each mote of dirt, taken away to make this home more pleasant for YOU. My selfish dick drools as I carefully fold YOUR briefs and iron YOUR jeans so YOU will look even more handsome to the world. I am increasingly seeing myself as little more than YOUR servant. And rather than that being a complaint or insult, I am satisfied because it is a place where I feel useful to YOU. Thank YOU so much for being here today and providing a reason for me to work around YOU. My stupid prick got erect dusting the coffee table around YOUR feet. Never before has housework become an erotic act. Thank YOU for showing me new ways to perform sexually for YOU, since I am now forbidden to service YOUR magnificent prick with these tired old holes.
I have come to enjoy scrubbing the floor of the kitchen naked, kneeling like some common servant, while YOU look in and chuckle. Yes, it's humiliating work, but it (and I) serves a purpose. This is the kitchen where I do a lot of my work for clients, and although I enjoy it, this sexual tension only exists when I clean it for YOU or cook YOUR meals. i think of the food I prepare here for YOU, and how lucky that food is to get to be in YOUR mouth, caressed by YOUR tongue.
Similarly, naked, kneeling, scrubbing YOUR bathroom clean is anything but a chore. Thankfully, YOU have never demanded that I lick YOUR toilet clean, or use my toothbrush to scrub it (I have read of such things), but YOU know I would accept YOUR rules without complaint. Instead, I lovingly scrub the facilities YOU use for hygiene to make them the most pleasant for YOUR use. What was the drudgery of housework has now become an opportunity to show my affection for YOU. To show how much YOU are desired and needed. Thank YOU so much for this. I hope and pray YOU find me at least worthy to be YOUR maid.
September 19th
Last night I had an epiphany.
YOU announced that YOU were inviting friends over and that I should prepare dinner for 8. I went to the store for groceries and prepared lasagna for YOUR guests.
The first to arrive were a Master and Mistress and their slave. I was dumbstruck when I saw him, crawling obediently behind them, body bruised and disfigured from abuse. His nipples were swollen and stretched to the point of obscenity; they had teeth marks in them to show how often they were gnawed and chewed. His balls were stretched with what seemed like 25 rings, painfully taught and swinging almost all the way to his knees. And his toothless mouth was set in a silent, happy grin, his ringed nose leashed with a chain his Master held. It was a terrifying sight to see what these two had done to this slave, both physically and mentally. How could somebody enjoy such a life?
Then arrived another Master with his two slaves, one male and one female. Although they were not completely disfigured like the first, they were silent, leashed by their noses and quietly crawling behind their Owner, looking down at his feet with great devotion. The male slave was younger than the first male slave and appeared to be toothless as well.
I was told to sit in the corner and observe as the three slaves took care of YOU and YOUR friends. The four of YOU spoke to each other in another language. I couldn't understand a word YOU said, and I don't think the slaves did either. I watched as YOU ordered them to serve food and drink but didn't otherwise acknowledge their presence, realizing this was how you saw me as well. YOUR slave.
But I felt so unprepared, so unworthy, so incredibly useless, even physically inferior to these slaves. I hadn't immediately recognized that the slaves had identical piercings and tattoos on their flesh. On the inside of their arms: OBEDIENCE and SERVITUDE. The inked collars around their necks. Barcodes on their chests. Their foreheads marked them as FAGBOY, FAGDAD, and BITCHGIRL. Their nipples and noses were all pierced with large, thick rings. The men's cockheads were ringed as well.
The slaves' silent service during dinner was perfect. The four of YOU never had to reach for anything beyond your plates or glasses. All done silently as YOU talked using a language none of us could understand.
After dinner I hoped I could at least be allowed to help clean up, but YOU did not allow that honor. Instead I had to watch these acclimated servants prove to me just how much farther there was for me to go. Without saying a word, they coordinated into a team to clean everything up while making sure YOU were all satisfied with evening snacks and drinks. I bit my lip in sadness, feeling so useless and unworthy. Unworthy to even be YOUR slave.
Then YOU had the two male slaves hug. And then I finally realized the resemblance: FAGDAD and FAGBOY were father and son. I was dying of curiosity but knew better than to ask. A slave is to remain silent. That was made abundantly clear.
At one point one of the Masters, the one who was older (i think you called him Alexi) announced that he needed to piss. The slaveboy and slavegirl started to crawl up to him but YOU told them to stop. YOU told YOUR friends that I am so proud to have a spotless kitchen and that it would be fun if all of YOU used it as your urinal. Not just piss in the sink, but all over the kitchen. On the table, in the oven, in the fridge. Anywhere and everywhere. I gasped as the Masters and Mistress chuckled and Alexi got up to use the kitchen. YOU and the other Master joined him there as the Mistress looked at me, shook her head, and said "I hope you know what you're getting into."
Once the three of YOU returned, YOU looked at me, cocked YOUR head into the kitchen and simply said "Clean." I scurried in and found piss splashed from the stove and the cabinets. I opened them and found pots and pans dripping in piss. The fruit and veggies hanging from the stand on the counter were also pissed on. One of YOUR friends yelled in to me: "Don't waste that food; it's marinating to be extra nutritious for a slave." Everyone laughed. Everyone but me.
I spent the rest of the night washing and cleaning everything in the kitchen. As I'd finished one area and gone to the next, one of YOU would once again empty YOUR bladder, aiming for what had just been cleaned. I knew the smart thing to do would be to just wait until YOU had all left or gone to bed, but I knew I was part of the entertainment... to fight a losing battle of endless frustration.
And suddenly I understood. That was to be my life. A losing battle of endless frustration. If I was to remain serving YOU, I had better get used to it. Better find a way to enjoy it. To be more like those other slaves, my superiors, genuinely happy to be frustrated and tormented as part of their service.
Right at that moment YOU sauntered into the kitchen, stopping right behind me. YOU said only three words as YOUR friends stepped behind YOU to watch. "Head down. Baptism." I kept my head down as YOU baptized me with YOUR piss. YOUR stream was strong and seemed to last forever. I was ecstatic, my stupid dick rock hard feeling YOUR fluid soaking into my skin. When YOU finished, YOU flicked YOUR cock at me, turned around, and walked away, the other Masters giving you high-fives.
My eyes watered as I continued to clean, both from the saltiness of YOUR urine and from the joy of having been elevated to be worthy of YOUR baptism. To have the stink of YOUR piss soaking into my flesh. I tasted some off my arm and almost shot a load without even touching my cock. It was bitter, salty, and sweet, all at once. A taste I will never forget. A nectar I will forever crave. A new addiction.
Now a losing battle of endless frustration suddenly made sense. For the rest of the night I made love to YOUR sacred piss (and that of YOUR friends) as I sucked it from the cabinets, from the inside of the oven and refrigerator, from the floor. I kept the pissed-on fruits and vegetables to eat on my own should I be wanting a snack. They won't last long. I'm already craving them.
While I was busy in the kitchen, Ii heard one of the slaves screaming in agony over and over again in some diabolical rhythm. I could hear his moans get deeper and louder and I eventually heard it cry out what sounded like an orgasm. Holy fuck. The four of YOU trained it to cum from being tortured. (YOU told me later that you were electrotorturing its nuts and nips.) I have so much to learn. I'm such a neophyte. A newbie. Some untrained cuntboy wanting to be YOUR perfect slave. I have so much to learn. I hope I get it right before YOU get bored with my pathetic excuse for service.
Thank YOU so much for inspiring me. I know I'm too raw, too unfinished, to be YOUR slave. But at least I now have a goal to reach, an ideal in my head. I want to be just like those other slaves. I keep them in my head as an example on how to best please YOU.