An Old Friend

I shivered, in a bit of fear. I felt so exposed, and listening to Megan talk about how at some point she was likely to paddle the hell out of my bare ass, I suddenly felt vulnerable.

This was so awkward. As much time as I'd spent fantasizing about submitting to women, this was the first time I'd ever wound up here. Naked and vulnerable, prostrate on a hard cold kitchen floor, in abject submission not to some fantasy domme, but to someone real. A friend. Someone who knew many of the people I knew. Megan. My god I was embarrassed, and surprised at how hard my cock had become. This was sort of awful and totally exciting all at once.

"But I know that won't be a problem." Megan's normal, sweet voice was back. "I know you know how to be a good boy."

Even looking straight down at the floor tile, I could sense Megan walking back around so that she was standing in front of me. I then felt some sort of small cloth dropped onto my head.

"Get up, Chris, and get yourself dressed."

"Yes, Megan."

I pushed myself up from the floor, and grabbed the cloth on top of my head. It turned out to be a pair of briefs, an extremely small pair of plain black cotton underwear.

"This is what you'll wear here. Go on - stand up and put it on."

"Yes, Megan."

I wondered how this pair of briefs would fit. They were tiny. Standing, I bent over and worked one bare foot in, then the other. Pulling them up, they began to stretch at my thighs. It took several hard tugs to get them over my ass, then over my cock and balls. This little garment was extremely tight, and didn't exactly cover me. The top strip of my butt was showing, and the tip of my erect cock was actually poking out the top. I felt more ridiculous than I had when I was naked.

"Perfect!" Megan walked around me, staring at my barely covered private parts. "That's exactly how I hoped it would fit."

Ok then, I thought.

"Follow me. Your first task is to fold the laundry."

"Yes, Megan."

As I followed behind her, I was disoriented. The house was familiar - I'd been here often - but it seemed altered somehow, off its axis in some way. My head spun trying to keep up. Yes, I'd been here before, but this time I wasn't visiting as a guest. This time I was a slave.

Inside the laundry room, everything still felt off-kilter. Folding clothes wasn't just folding clothes. Megan watched me closely, inspecting every movement.

"Stand up straighter, Chris."

"Yes, Megan."

"And keep your feet together."

"Yes, Megan."

"Remember, it's not just about the work. Your body is on display for me. Every time you're in this house, your body is completely under my control. It's for my enjoyment."

I tried not to sigh audibly. Oh god, I could feel my cock growing, even inside the tight jockey shorts, its tip still peeking out over the top. From the corner of my eye, I could just barely see Megan's hand reach toward her crotch, just for a split-second. She was enjoying this.

I folded Megan's jeans, Megan's socks, Megan's shirts. She corrected me when I folded her shirts wrong, showing me her preferred style. Working through the second basket, I paused as I came across a wad of Kyle's briefs. I picked up the first pair gingerly, holding it by the very edge. Megan caught my hesitation.

"Don't, Chris. Don't be all picky about handling Kyle's things. You're here to serve me, and this is part of it. Do you think you're too good to fold his underwear?"

"No, Megan."

"That's right, you're not."

I continued folding, my hands all over the briefs. It still felt weird. The next basket turned out to hold Megan's panties, her socks, and her bras. Folding these were more enjoyable, but still felt strange.

After folding, vacuuming was a nice change. The house had what seemed like acres of carpet - the large basement, the first floor great room, the upstairs hallway and four bedrooms. Megan scolded me regularly.

"Stand up straighter, Chris."

"Vacuum in straight lines, Chris. Long, orderly rows. Not just all over randomly."

"Take softer steps. You're not allowed to stomp, Chris. Don't draw attention to yourself."

Dusting brought more scolding.

"Move everything on the table first! Don't just try to dust around things."

"Move them carefully, Chris!"

"That's NOT where that was."

By lunchtime, I was just starting to get used to the feeling of being barely dressed. Megan had me warm up some left over pasta, and serve it to her. She explained how I was to kneel next to the table and lift the dish over my head toward her, letting her take it, then wait, kneeling silently beside her as she ate, prepared to carry out any orders she might give.

"I need more water, Chris." Megan held the glass out toward me, ice tumbling inside it as she shook it.

"Yes, Megan."

After I refilled it, offering it on my knees, Megan took it from me silently. I waited. God, this was bizarre. Had I ever been ordered around like this? I mean, I followed directions at work, but everything was super polite, could you please do this, would you mind doing that, so that hearing Megan tell me Chris do this, you WILL do that, even in her sweet, normal voice, it felt awkward. Admittedly, I was embarrassed. The fact that I was even here being ordered around and talked down to by a close friend made me wince when I thought about it too much.

I waited next to Megan as she ate, thinking about how she seemed much more intimidating than she ever had. Of course she seemed that way, I reminded myself, she's giving orders and I'm almost naked, but the magnitude of it surprised me. Those four positions - bowing, kneeling, obeisance and worship - they had done something to me. Megan was certainly right that they would affect my attitude. Suddenly, I was aware - painfully aware - of my inferiority, of Megan's complete awareness of my inferiority, the fact that she'd likely always known how inferior I was, even when I didn't know it myself. I felt humiliated. I also felt grateful that I was even here, that Megan even allowed me in her presence. Those words she'd spoken while teaching me the positions - "acknowledge that I'm better than you" - "worship - I expect it" - they reverberated in my head, both exciting me and making me want to cry.

After Megan's lunch, I was thankful for more tasks, work to take my mind off the painful realizations I was having. Washing the dishes took forever, since Megan wouldn't let me use the dishwasher and kept telling me to handle the dishes more gently. I was learning to wash them without a sound - not even the clink of a dish against another. Washing dishes took forever, but not as long as cleaning the master bathroom - toilet, sinks, mirror, bathtub, floor. Megan was keeping up with my tasks on the chalkboard, placing a little smiley face next to each completed task.

Finally, near mid-afternoon, it was time to sweep and mop the floor. By the time I was mopping, I was tired. I'd long since gotten used to wearing the near-nothing that was my uniform, but at this point in the day, Megan decided to lean against the kitchen wall and stare. Not just supervise and inspect as she'd been doing all day, but Megan stared at me: hard, unrelenting and continuous. I felt seriously self-conscious. Once again, my near nudity was impossible to ignore, and the fact that I was on display for Megan's enjoyment and amusement made me hot and flush, embarrassed. It was hard to maintain my posture and soft steps.

As I was finishing the mopping, Megan suddenly lifted her leg, reached down and peeled off one white sock. Lifting her other leg, she peeled off the other. Barefoot, she walked across the still-wet kitchen floor to a spot on the side where I'd started.

"Come over here."

"Yes, Megan."

I set down the mop and walked to her.

"Kneel."

"Yes, Megan." She reached out her right foot and, with her big toe, pointed to a spot on the floor.

"Right here."

Right here what, I wondered. Megan was touching a spot on the damp floor, pressing her big toe into it. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about the spot. I wondered what she was getting at.

"This spot, Chris. Kiss it."

I reminded myself not to hesitate.

"Yes, Megan."

Bending forward, I moved my face toward the spot. Megan moved her foot just before it got there, and I puckered, letting my lips touch the wet floor. The Pine-Sol scent was intense. I wondered why I was kissing here.

"Harder, Chris. Press your lips against the floor. Press them into it, don't just touch it."

I obeyed. I felt stupid.

"When you mop, sometimes I'll pick out some spots at random for you to kiss, to make sure you're actually cleaning it like you should."

While I was still kissing, Megan walked to another spot, just in front of the sink. I followed her. She pressed her toe against a spot almost under the overhang, one of those hard to reach spots. I hoped I'd mopped well down there.

"Here. Kiss here, Chris."

Again, she moved her foot as soon as my face approached. Pressing my lips against the hopefully-clean-enough floor, I felt excited that my face had come so close to Megan's bare foot, even if only for an instant. From what I could see in that instant, she had a beautiful foot. Strangely, I felt honored to be kissing the spot her toe had just touched. I remembered the terms of this arrangement. I would absolutely not, in any way, be touching any part of Megan. I wished there had been an exception for her feet.

"Over here, Chris."

Megan had moved to another spot. I followed her, and knelt in front of the bit of tile she was indicating with her toe.

"Don't just kiss this spot, Chris. Press your tongue against it."

Oh my god. I really didn't want to do this. But I had no choice. Bending over, I let the tip of my tongue rest on the floor.

"Harder, Chris. And more of your tongue. Press it down there hard against the floor."

Yuck. I did so, and it was totally gross. I really hoped this bit was clean. Finally, Megan let me stop.

"OK Chris. Finish mopping, re-mop the spots you kissed, and meet me on the patio.

"Yes, Megan."

I quickly finished up, and headed out the back door to the screened-in patio. I hoped nobody could see through the screens. Megan was sitting on a cushioned bench, putting on her socks and shoes. Soon it would be time for her to pick up her kids from school.

"Take off your slave panties, and then kneel down here."

Megan snapped her fingers and pointed at the smooth concrete floor in front of her.

"Yes, Megan."

I began peeling off the tight garment. Slave panties? Holding them uncertainly, I looked at Megan.

"Just leave them on the floor."

I dropped them and knelt, naked, at Megan's feet. I thought that wearing those super-tight underpants was humiliating, but the feeling of being naked again in Megan's presence was making me wish I had them. I blushed.

"So Chris. This is your time to speak to me openly. What's on your mind right now?"

"Honestly, what I'm thinking right now is 'slave panties?'"

Megan laughed, a big warm laugh.

"Oh god! I didn't know what else to call them. And, I mean, nobody would ever wear those, except a slave!"

I sighed.

"So how did you feel today?"

I took a deep breath.

"Embarrassed. I felt embarrassed, Megan."

"Good." Megan closed her eyes briefly and smiled, just a bit. "Did you at least enjoy it?"

"Yes, Megan. I've always fantasized about this, and it was so exciting, and it's such a privilege to serve you. But the humiliation was so much worse than I expected."

"That's not surprising. You're going through the process of actually learning your place, and I'm sure that has to be painful."

"Megan, you really look down on me, don't you? I mean, not just while I'm serving you. I mean for real."

She took a very deep breath, and turned serious. Megan spoke gently, but firmly.

"Chris, remember when I told you, long ago, there was nothing to be ashamed of? I was telling the truth. You can't help the desires you have. They're not your fault. But there's more to it. Just because it's not your fault doesn't mean you're like me, or like Kyle, or any of our other friends. I mean, someone like you who is willing to actually submit to all the things I'm putting you through, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to see that someone as my equal, as being on the same level with me. So yes, I do look down on you."

I sighed, and almost sobbed.

"Chris, you asked me if I look down on you. Well let me ask you, don't you look up to me?"

I whimpered a bit, realizing she was right.

"Yes, Megan. Yes I do."

"You can't really look up to me without me looking down on you, can you?"

"No, Megan. It just hurts a little to think about."

"You're seeing clearly now, just who you are, and the learning process is going to hurt. But Chris, you have the potential to be a very good slave. I would think for someone like you that would be something to be proud of. To be the best possible slave."

"It is, Megan. I'm going to try to look at it that way."

"Good boy!"

I smiled a little through the tears that were forming."

"Someday, Chris, you'll get to the point where you'll ask me for the chance to worship me, openly, with both your words and your body. Like in a religious ceremony. When you've really gotten used to the idea of who you are, and who I am, and where you belong."

The thought made me all kinds of queasy.

"Maybe, Megan, but I do want to be able to show you that I look up to you, that I respect your authority and the fact that you're better than me. I really do believe it, I promise."

Megan smiled a cute little smile. She smiled over me, her hands intertwined, fingers fidgeting playfully.

"Would you like to spend some time kissing the ground beneath my shoes?"

I felt my stomach turn over in both embarrassment and excitement. I reminded myself that Megan was better than me, and that it would be a privilege.

"Yes. Oh yes, Megan. I would be honored to kiss the ground under your shoes."

"Lay down."

Megan's strict, no-nonsense voice was back. It had reappeared instantly, turned on like a switch.

"Face down against the concrete, Chris. Arms out to the side. Face at my shoes."

I obeyed, happy for the chance to obey, and found myself again naked and prostrate before Megan. I reminded myself that this was where I belonged.

"We have about ten minutes. When I move my shoe, you kiss where it was resting. Real kisses, Chris. Passionate. Show me what you think of me."

"Yes Megan." I spoke into the concrete.

Megan's right shoe slid slightly farther right, and I pressed my face to the ground where it had been resting, and kissed. Cold, smooth ground. I kissed deeply, firmly, still embarrassed yet happy, wanting to devote myself completely to Megan. Oh god this day had brought me low. Would it be this intense every week? Kissing and kissing, Megan's shoe almost but not quite touching the side of my head, I savored the fact that it had just rested here, this ground sacred after just having supported Megan's tennis shoe sole.

My cock was rock hard. Lying naked directly beneath Megan, honoring her with my abject submission, I was excited. I thought of her sitting directly above me, looking straight down at my naked body in surrender to her, wondering what she was thinking. I had to be careful not to move too much against the concrete. I savored a few reverent, humiliating minutes before Megan slid her left foot to the side and told me to switch. I had a new patch of ground to kiss. A couple minutes in, both shoes, on either side of my head, lifted quickly to their tiptoes.

Above me, Megan seemed to be squirming just a bit. I kept my face against the ground, kissing harder and harder. From high above, I heard a very quiet little squeal and deep breath. It was absolutely none of my business, but I suspected Megan was rubbing herself. The only thing I could tell for certain was that being adored excited her.

I kissed harder, kissed more passionately, tried to show Megan how much I adored her with my kisses to the ground beneath her feet. Through the patio screens, from down the street, I could hear a lawn mower. Then a car drove by. Somehow these sounds made me feel even more exposed, more ridiculous. I kissed harder. This wasn't some fantasy dungeon. This was Megan's patio, real life, and I was discovering my place in this real life, all pretenses and politeness stripped away. I breathed deeply, kissed deeply.

A couple precious minutes longer, and I heard Megan's voice.

"Stop Chris."

I obeyed, my lips still brushing the smooth finished concrete where the sole of Megan's tennis shoe had rested.

"You may get dressed and leave."

"Thank you, Megan."

I stood and walked away, erect and excited, everything within my body and soul longing for the next week, longing to be in Megan's presence. Next Wednesday couldn't come soon enough.

.