Dose of Maya Ch. 11

Hi, guys. I'm sorry that I'm late. Had some personal stuff to deal with. At first, I wanted to skip the next couple of chapters and move into the present because of the almost vanilla elements between Sam and her boy friend. But after writing the penultimate chapter, I was motivated to write this again. Hope you guys like it.

Chapter 11: A Beautiful Slave

Samantha woke up to the doorbell ringing. 'Why would anyone come in the middle of the night?' she thought. Well, it was not the middle of the night anymore. She opened her eyes to the blinding morning sunlight seeping through her windows. She yawned with drowsiness. She still felt irritated because it was the weekend, and she wanted to sleep till midday. She threw the covers off her and walked to the door. She looked through the peephole to see Joe nervously standing outside. 'Why was he here?' she thought, 'Oh, I asked Maya to send him yesterday night.' She opened the door and smiled at him.

"Good morning, mistress," he greeted.

"Good morning, Joe," she said yawning.

"I disturbed your sleep. Didn't I, mistress?" he lowered his head, "I'm sorry, mistress. But I was ordered to come here first thing in the morning."

"It's okay, Joe. Come in," she ordered.

They wandered into her house. He still seemed dejected about it and also nervous. She needed an icebreaker to break this awkwardness. Because until a few days ago, he was a colleague. Now, she didn't know what he was now. Maya called him a slave but she didn't want to call him that. In the instruction videos, they called people like that 'A Sub.' She had spent the last few days watching those videos. She never knew that domination was so erotic. 'Maybe, I'm romanticizing the way I was bullied,' she thought, 'For now, let's just go with Joe.'

"Joe, are you comfortable with this?" she asked. After Maya revealed their situation, she slowly realized why he looked barely slept most days or why he had red cheeks sometimes. It was all because of Maya. So, she was concerned for him.

"Being in service of mistress Maya, a hundred percent, yes." He looked at her and continued, "With you, Sam? I don't know yet." His eyes widened, "I'm sorry, mistress. That I called you by your name."

"You know you can call me by name."

"No," he looked up, "Mistress, this allows us to be in clearly defined roles. It would be less confusing for me. Everybody would know their place. Besides, my mistress ordered me to address you as a mistress."

"If that's what you want, do it," she didn't know what else to say.

"Thank you, mistress."

"Now, let's talk about you," she said, "What do you do?"

"I do everything and anything my mistress orders me to do," he said proudly.

"What will you do for me?" she cocked her head.

He squinted and said, "I do everything and anything my mistress orders me to do."

"Oh," she understood what he was saying, "By 'my mistress,' you mean me."

"Yes, mistress,"

"You said anything," she asked, "As in anything."

He smiled and answered, "Certainly, mistress. All you have to do is just ask. I'll do anything you want of me."

"Mistress?" she tried that word, "I don't know how to feel about this."

"I can't tell you that, mistress. But I can tell how I would feel. I'd be happy if my actions please you."

"Then let's start with basics, eh? Tidy up the house," she ordered. And he didn't reply his acceptance. She could see his reluctance. She expected Maya would be angry about it. But she was a little relieved that he was trying to choose and his defiance reassured that he had some control, however little it may be.

"Clean the house," she asserted her control, that's what she learned during the past few days. "Every bit," she enunciated.

"Yes, mistress," there he accepted her control, "Should I start with your shoes, mistress."

"Sure," she said turning away from him, "And don't wake me until mid-day."

"As you wis..." She could only hear part of his words as she closed the door of her bedroom and fell onto her bed drifting into sleep.

She woke up as the alarm went off near her ear. She turned it off and went into the bathroom to bathe and get ready for her lunch date. She came out of her room dressed in a short skirt complimenting it with a nice black top and covered her feet in black nylons. She walked out to Joe's stunned expression. 'It feels good to be admired,' she thought. He was on his fours cleaning the floor with a rag. She smiled at him and said, "There is a mop in the closet."

"Yes, mistress, I've seen it. But if you see me like this, it would help you to settle yourself into your role smoothly."

Just as he said that she saw the logic in his words. And she realized she was hot looking at his position. She stood there for a few minutes to watch him clean. He crawled from corner to corner dragging that wet rag to clean her floor. She wanted to bring her hand to her sex but stopped herself as she was about to go on a date. He slowly crawled towards her still dragging that dirty rag with him. He cleaned around her feet as she looked at him. She gulped trying to bring wetness to her dry mouth.

"May I kiss your feet, mistress?" he asked. She was still in a daze and couldn't answer him. So, he asked her again. She could only nod her approval with her mouth gaped open. He lowered his head to her feet. She wriggled her toes as he placed her lips there and puckered them. The slow touch of his lips rushed the pleasure inside her. She breathed out as he kissed again. He moved to her other foot and kissed twice there. He looked up, and she was breathing loudly. "Thank you, mistress," he said. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something. But all she managed was one word, "Continue," she said. He smiled at her bewilderment and continued kissing her feet. She managed to control her breathing and took in the pleasure of his soft lips on her stocking-clad feet.

Finally, she asked him, "Stop, we need to go."

"But, mistress, I haven't cleaned your room yet."

"Another time. Let's go now." She moved toward the door but he stooped her.

"Mistress, let me get your shoes. Please sit." She looked at him thinking for a bit and nodded to him. She settled herself on the couch. He crawled to the shoe stand swaying his ass. It only made her hotter seeing him slaving away for her. He reached it and started displaying each pair to ask what she wanted to wear. She selected black boots with three-inch heels. He stood up and walked towards her carrying her shoes. He knelt at her feet and slid his hand under the arch of her left foot. She involuntarily curled her toes with his touch. He gently pushed her shoe onto her foot and did the same with the other one. He laced up her boots, and then she noticed a smear at the tip of her right boot. "Anything, right?" she asked. He looked up at her, at first, confused, and nodded eagerly, "Yes, mistress." With the inspiration of what he had done previously, she moved her foot to his face and stopped a mere inches away from his lips. "Would you kiss them?"

He smiled and planted a few kisses on her boot. As she brought down her foot, without invitation, he kissed the other boot too. A dubious thought came to her mind, watching him kneel at her feet, and her palms were slick with her sweat. She wriggled her toes inside her boot. Would she go with this idea? 'Can I really make him do that?' she thought. She had to try.

"Joe," he looked up, "Couldn't you do one job correctly?" He looked hurt by her words. "Look," she continued, "there is a smear on my boot."

He looked at it and lowered his head in disgust. "I'm sorry, mistress," he mumbled.

"No time for apologies," she breathed in. "Clean it," she said firmly. He tried to stand up. Maybe, to get something to use for cleaning. But she stopped him. "Uh-huh," he looked at her, "Lick." She let the word hang for a moment. He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. That only stayed for a moment as his eyes lit up with delight. He offered no protest and pushed himself down towards her feet. 'He already licked Maya's shoes. Then why is he confused?' she thought. He stuck his tongue out and licked at that spot she showed him.

"Why are you confused?" she asked, "Didn't you do this type of thing already?"

He stopped licking and said, "Yes, mistress. But I haven't expected you to make me lick your shoes this quickly." And he continued licking for another few moments. "It took like a month for Mistress Maya to order me to lick her boots," he confessed. Well, she confused not only herself but also him. The smear disappeared after a few licks but he didn't stop licking her boot. He darted his tongue up and down her boot. She watched him work his tongue from the tip to the edge. He took special attention to the tongue of her boot, nuzzling his tongue in between the laces to clean every part of it. He licked up at the shaft of her boot. While he was doing that, he accidentally touched her leg with his tongue a few times. Even the wetness that soaked through stockings onto her leg made her hot. The black leather glistened with moisture in a few seconds. And that made her even more moist. She had to stop soon. If this continues, she didn't know for how long she could control herself.

"Now the other one," she said slowly. He continued doing the same to the other boot. Her lust grew as she watched his wonderful work unfold in front of her eyes. She thought she was about to lose control. So, she pulled her boot out of his grip. She stood from her couch and walked to the door. She took her cream color coat and wrapped herself in it. She turned back to Joe, who was still kneeling on the floor, and said, "Let's go."

__________

Maya sat in her alcove in the loft reading a book. Joe returned to her just after noon. Last night, Samantha had asked her to send him. 'Then why send him back so quickly?' She first thought maybe he had done something wrong. So, she sat him down and made him explain everything that he had done. It seems she made him clean her boots on the first encounter. She was far more comfortable than what Maya thought she would be. 'Well, that only reduces my work,' she thought.

After he came home from Samantha's place, she made him clean her already clean apartment. She made food for both of them while he was working. Usually, he made the food for her but she was in a generous mood. It was good for his morale if he knew that his mistress cares for her slave.

She heard a buzz in the room. That was the upstairs room beside the loft. Joe had been staying in her apartment all this week. It was wonderful to have him at her place as she liked to make him dance at her every whim. The buzz increased and she wanted to see what that was. She stood up and went to the room where Joe put his things. Usually, he slept in her closet. But the other day, she made him sleep at the foot of the bed with his face burrowed into her feet. She quickly realized the sound was of a trimmer. She entered the spare room, opened the bathroom door, and leaned against it. She saw him trimming his beard clean. He looked at her through the mirror and smiled. She smiled back seeing him happy. He rolled his fingers over his cheek, smiling at his image in the mirror.

That expression tugged at her. She knew that expression very well. He used that expression when he had impressed her or when he admired her beauty. Now, he was admiring himself. She didn't know why but she felt jealous. 'Maybe it's not rational,' she thought, 'but my slave should only admire my beauty not any other. Not even of himself.' Suddenly, that jealousy turned into fury. She waltzed into the bathroom, caught his neck, and pulled him away from the mirror. She shoved him onto the closed commode. She snatched the trimmer from his hands and started trimming.

"Mistress," he started.

"Shhhh," she placed her index finger on his lips. With a smile, she said slowly, "You know, in the ancient days, people used to be made into slaves because they looked nice. Beautiful slaves enjoyed certain privileges and ugly ones were discarded to obscurity."

"I heard mistress," she moved the trimmer through his mustache leaving his upper lip bare.

"And I'm not like that. You don't need to be good-looking to serve me. I just need you," she moved to his hair now. Girls at her office were always moaning about his cheeks and his hair. Mostly about his hair. She looked into his brain. She saw he was sad and a bit happy. He was also as proud as he was sad. And his pleasure center was lit.

"I wanted to show you that your mistress cares about you even when you look ugly," his sadness reduced a bit while she left a swathe in the middle of his head. She laughed at how ridiculous he looked. She took hold of his jaw and started trimming the sides. She could also see some tears forming in his eyes. She quickly cut his hair. She left him bald. After looking into his red eyes, she felt even more cruel. She wanted to enjoy this. So, she moved to his eyebrows. When he realized what she was trying to do, he begged her. "Mistress? Please, mistress." With a wide grin, she removed his eyebrows. Then the waterworks started. His tears streamed down his face. They all fell into her hand at his chin. She only smiled at him. She could see that his pleasure hadn't retreated. So, that's good.

She cupped his face, bent down to level her eyes with his, and said, "Remember, you're not beautiful. You're mine." She dragged her last words to settle into him. She scanned his emotions and was surprised to see his sadness plunging down and his happiness gradually rising. 'He is mine,' she thought. She brought him to the mirror. She could see he was almost happy in his expression.

"Say it," she whispered into his ear.

"I'm yours, mistress," he beamed and smiled with his teeth open. She patted him on his cheek.

_________

Samantha and Harry sat at a dining table. She was laughing at his jokes. After lunch, they went for a movie and came back to his place. He also made dinner for her. She hadn't been this happy in a relationship in a long time. She remembered the guy who made her feel happy and who made her feel safe. That relationship ran its course and she had to end it.

She ate the last spoon of spaghetti and had to laugh at another joke. She choked on her food and started coughing. He was immediately beside her with a glass of water. She took the glass and sipped. He was softly tapping over her head. She looked at him afterward and sheepishly smiled. While he was taking their plates to the kitchen, he dropped a bit of food on the ground. She moved to the living area and settled on the couch. He came out with a wet cloth, crouched down on a knee, and started cleaning it. She was reminded of Joe after seeing him clean that stain on the floor. She was hot immediately.

He came back and sat beside her putting on some movie. It was a romantic movie, and she was completely engrossed in it that she didn't even notice his hand around her shoulder until it touched her arm. She felt the flutters inside her. She was already hot with the reminder of Joe and the romance movie on the TV. And now with his touch, she grew hotter. The pair kissed on the TV and she wanted to kiss him. She looked at him, slightly raising her head to meet his eyes, and leaned into a kiss. In a moment, they were in each other's mouths. She sucked on his bottom lip and moved to his upper lip. She moved to sit on his lap and continued kissing him as it turned into a long and passionate kiss. She realized she was almost out of breath. She pulled herself out of the kiss and tried to catch her breath. She had her hands on his shoulders and her head was totally in his hands. She breathed in and out looking into his passionate and hungry eyes. She leaned down for another kiss and he met her in the middle.

After a few seconds of kissing, she drew away from his lips. She slid down from his lap and sat leaning against the edge of the couch. They were looking into each other's eyes completely ignorant of their surroundings, and then she propped up her feet onto his lap. He massaged her legs while she caught her breath.

"What are you doing next weekend?" she asked still gasping for air.

"Well, the eighteenth, Tuesday after the weekend, is my mom's birthday. So, I'm off to see her. I'd be out of town from Saturday to Wednesday."

"Oh?" she was disappointed because the fifteenth, Saturday, was her birthday. She never would tell anyone about that. She didn't like to talk about it. 'It's a sad thing, really, if you think about it,' she thought.

"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you sooner. But the leave got approved only yesterday."

"It's fine," she said.

"You wanted to do something, next weekend?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing. I was just in the mood for enjoyment."

"It's an annual thing, you know. She was a single mother and raised me all alone. So, I always stay with my mom during her birthday," he said.

"Aw, that's really sweet," she said and he smiled. "It must've been tough growing up. You said your father died."

"When I was like five years old. It was tough but I had her with me and I like to think she did a good job," he seemed sad.

"She did," she said.

"What about you? You never talk about your parents. What are they like? What do they do?" he asked.

She never liked to talk about her childhood. She actively avoided it. Something inside her wanted to shut that part of herself to the outside world. But she wanted to talk to him about it. So, she did.

"I...," she started, "I don't know them. I'm an orphan. They died in a crash."

"Oh? I'm sorry," he said.

"Well, I lived all my life with that truth."

"And that doesn't make it any less painful," she saw a genuine sadness in his eyes. "No relatives?"

"None who cares," she shrugged and shook her head.

"And here I am talking about how tough it is to grow up in a house with a loving parent," he said mournfully, "It must've sucked growing up for you."

"Yeah, moving from foster house to foster house all my childhood was really tough."

"I'm so sorry," he said.

They sat in silence for a few seconds and she smirked.

"What?" he asked.

"Whenever I've said this to someone, most people said they knew how I feel. It's refreshing to hear you just say sorry," she said.

"Well, I'm not most people. I don't know how you feel. I can only sympathize," he said and she felt relieved saying all this to him. "But I can tell you what my therapist would say. She'd say they're just trying to relate."

She asked, "When did your therapist say this to you?"

He wagged his finger and said, "No, no. We're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

"Say it," she said softly.

"I'm not making this about me," he said.

"You aren't," she said, "Just say it."

"When my father died," his voice shifted into a somber tone, "Everybody said they knew how I feel." He clenched his jaw, pointed his finger down, and said, "But, I know. I know that they don't know how I feel." He looked at her, "So, that's how I definitely know that I don't know how you feel."

She removed her feet from his lap. Wiping her tears, she hugged him. She laid her head on his shoulder and stayed in his tight embrace for a few minutes. Well, at least she found someone who could understand her.

She realized that talking about dead parents was such a buzzkill. So, she whispered in his ear, "Have you ever done an oral?"

He gently pushed her out of his hands and looked at her confused. "How did talking about tragedies turned into this?" he asked.

"Just answer the question," she said exasperated and throwing her hands into the air.

"Uh, no."

"Do you like to?"

"Probably. But I don't know how to do it."

"It's your lucky day, squire. I'll teach you," she winked at him. "You have impressed the Lady," she patted him on his shoulder.