My Mistress' Orders

"Here", he texted from the hallway, the old building still had locked doors that required her to come down to let him in. He kind of enjoyed the dance. Wondered how long she would leave him waiting or if she would ever deny him entry completely. There was no movement in the hallway, usually by now he could see her feet heading down the stairs.

His phone chirped. "Keys are in my mailbox. Let yourself in, pet!" She had told him that she'd give him a set of keys once he'd proved himself a worthy enough sub, and for a moment, he thought this might be the day, but he could tell from the keychain that this was her set. Still hadn't proved himself, then. But there was also a bit of relief attached to that. He liked that she was the key holder, whether to the doors of the apartment or his cock cage, he very much preferred her being in charge.

The first key he tried didn't open the front door, so he moved to the second and that one worked. What was she up to that she didn't scoop him up like normal. He was fairly certain she liked to watch his ass as he climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment. In fact, today he'd worn the corduroys, the slim fit ones, that he bought specifically because she razzed him when they first met about only owning one set of ill fitting pants. He liked the way these pants made him feel - slutty and on display.

When he got to the apartment the door was closed and he hesitated. Should he knock? He did, but she didn't answer. He waited a bit, and tried the door, which was locked. He texted, "Apartment, too?" But when she didn't respond he decided that the "let yourself in" invitation covered that door as well, and he used the second key to unlock the door.

"Hello?" he called while swinging the door open, but he could tell pretty quickly she wasn't there. The lights were out, there was no music, and the space just felt different without her presence. He reached for the light switch and turned it on, spotting the trap she'd left.

There on the couch was the frilly cherry printed apron, and a pair of red mesh panties. His cock twitched. There was a note next to it, and an X on the floor made with tape. He removed his coat and shoes, taking care to hang it up, set his shoes out of the way, and went to read the note she'd left.

"Pet,

Change into your uniform. There are dishes in the sink, clean them. Make the bed. Lock the door. When you've done that, put the blindfold on, and kneel on the X. (You may rest your ass on your heels, or move to all fours if your knees start to ache.)

You can not move from the X until you feel my hand on your throat. Don't speak, either. No matter what I say, or what you hear, stay put, and stay silent. Show me how obedient you can be. Xxoo"

And she'd signed the note with a red lipstick kiss, a corny cliche that somehow also made his dick start to leak.

Eagerly he undressed, folding his clothes in a neat pile, and put the undies on. They had frilly bows at the hips, and he could almost feel her thumb under the waistband pulling them far from his body only to let them snap back with a satisfying thwack. He put the apron on and hesitated for a second, unsure of where the ties should be. It was slightly awkward to try to tie them in the back, so he wrapped them around his waist, pulled tight and let a small bow hang near his belly. It felt nice, how tight it was. It also felt humiliating, how girly the frills and bows and cinched waist made him look.

He started to move to the kitchen to wash the dishes, and then paused. Though she had listed that first, he really wanted to make her bed so he could look at himself in the full length mirror. He moved to the bedroom and turned on the lights, and immediately realized his mistake.

She'd pulled the blinds to the side, even the shears. The chances were pretty slim that anyone had seen him through the windows, but it wasn't entirely impossible. He hesitated. Maybe that was what she wanted. Maybe she was across the street, looking up. He went to the window, but left the lights off. He looked down, optimistic, hoping she would be there to cast him an approving glance. But she wasn't anywhere to be found. So he pulled the curtains closed, and turned to the task at hand.

The mirror. He turned the lights on and looked at himself. His long limbs had goosebumps, but it wasn't from the cold. He liked the way he looked dressed up like this. Partly because she had told him, and partly because it let him debase himself in a way that felt fun, and safe, and wildly sexy. He turned to the side and tried to see if his hard cock made any difference to the flow of the fabric.

The way this apron was made gave it sort of a bell curve, so he couldn't decide if the fabric was bulging because of his cock or because of the way the garment was sewn. He could almost hear her sultry voice in his ear, whispering that of course it was the way the apron hung naturally. His cock was pathetic and small and wholly unremarkable. It would never cause a bulge like that. The tip of his dick got wetter at the thought. He hoped that wherever she was, she was also getting slick at the thought of him playing housemaid for her at home.

The bed. He tried to remember exactly how she arranged her pillows. She had a lot of damn pillows. While he was pulling the covers up, he noticed a magnum wrapper on the bed stand. He let out an involuntary moan. Had she gotten fucked and didn't tell him? She could, of course, do whatever she wanted whenever she liked, but he did love it when she told him about her dates with other men - especially the ones with well hung men.

He put his hand on her sheets, hungry for a wet spot. When he didn't find one - he knew it was a stretch - he reached for the pillows and inhaled. Humiliating, he knew, but he was hoping to catch a scent of musk, or male, or manliness to confirm his hope that she'd been fucked well and hard by one of her other suitors.

It was also entirely possible that the wrapper was a plant. That she'd left it there specifically to toy with him. He wondered if it would be too much to look in her garbage for a used condom. He shook his head. That wasn't on the list, and his only role right now was to be an obedient pet. Make the bed. Do the dishes. Lock the door. Wait.

The dishes were easy enough. He lingered longer than necessary hoping she would come in the door before she had to lock it. He knew she'd slide her hands beneath the apron, grab his cock, touch his ass, all the while whispering emasculating filth peppered with praise for her (at least he hoped) favorite pet. When she slipped into her domme role he could tell. Her voice got huskier. Her hands got grabbier. The phrases she reached for had an edge to them that seemed perfectly designed to make him moan and whimper and twitch. And when she was in that space, it let him fall that much deeper into his submissive role, which let the rest of the world fall away.

The dishes were clean, so it was time to move on to the next thing. The lock on the door. Where was she? This was unlike her. He had to admit he thought she was too nice - because she was really nice - and often wondered if she was actually the best domme for him. He didn't like thinking about that, he knew it made him a bad submissive to question whether or not she had it in her to have the firm hand he required. But she surprised him. And he couldn't deny her hands were strong...

He locked the door. Moved to the X, put on the blindfold, got on his knees, and waited.

At first he maintained his posture. He really wanted to be on display for her when she came home. He re-tied the apron. He smoothed the ruffles. He tried to position the fabric so he would leak into it, and not onto the floor. But it was hard, being on his knees like this, and she did say he could move to all fours, so he did. First facing the door, and then turned around, so his ass was on display when - if? - she walked in. He reached down and felt for the X with his finger to make sure he was complying with the orders. He wondered how long it had been. Moved back to his knees, rested his ass on his heels. And then he was pretty sure he heard someone on the stairs.

It could just be the second floor neighbors. But no! These were definitely approaching. He heard a hand on the door knob. And then a voice. "Pet? Are you there? It's me. The door's locked." He heard her try the knob again. "You have my keys. Can you let me in?"

Was this part of the test? She did tell him to stay put no matter what, but it was true: The keys she had left in the mailbox were her set so how was she supposed to get in? He hoped it was part of the show. His mind went back to the instructions of the note, and he held fast.

Outside the door he heard her talking. "Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but I've locked myself out of the apartment. Is there any chance you can swing by? Oh really? Thank you! Best landlord ever!

This had to be part of the game. She wouldn't expose him like that without prior permission. But he had been particularly bad recently. He jerked off without her permission, and waited 5 days to confess. The past few times they'd gotten together, he hadn't prioritized her pleasure, and she had to get herself off, or hadn't gotten off at all. No wonder she had a magnum condom wrapper near her bed. He moaned to himself. It was so degrading.

And he liked that. Liked when she ignored him and got off next to him, loved listening to her breath shift as she got closer to orgasm. His cock twitched now thinking about the way she would objectify him, or shun him, or dismiss him. And he also realized he could have been a lot more generous with his talented tongue. His brain rapidly flipped through all the ways he'd failed her. But having her landlord unlock the door? This was too strong of a punishment, surely.

Anyway he looked at it, he was stuck. He hoped that this would be one of the times where her niceness worked to his benefit, and the door wouldn't be opened by a stranger who would likely have a lot of questions about an all american boy kneeling in the center of the living room wearing a blindfold, apron, and women's panties.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he heard a key in the lock. He held his breath as the door opened. He also straightened up. Readjusted the blindfold to make sure she wouldn't accuse him of peaking. Closed his mouth. Waited.

His cock, it goes without saying, was rock hard.

"Hi pet," she coo'd. "You are here! I wasn't sure. Why didn't you let me in?" He almost opened his mouth to respond and then remembered her instructions.

Don't. Speak.

"Luckily my landlord reminded me that she keeps an extra set of keys in the utility closet downstairs so I didn't have to have her come over, can you imagine?"

He smoothed the apron out again. Wanted her to come over and put her hand on his neck so he could show her how happy he was to have her home.. He wanted to kiss her collar bones, and flick his tongue on her clit, and nuzzle his head into her and whimper in that way that always made her happy.

But he couldn't do any of that because she had given him instructions. No matter what. Stay put. Stay quiet.

"Aren't you going to say hi to me, pet? I've missed you." He could hear her come over, sit on the couch near him. "You really aren't going to greet me?"

She got on the floor next to him. Hooked her finger under the waistband of the panties. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?" She slid her finger back and forth. "Are you done with me?" He bit his lip to keep from saying anything.

She snapped the waistband.

"Oh, that's right, you're showing me what a good boy you can be. Following instructions, aren't you?" He nodded. "You need something from me, don't you pet?"

Again, he nodded, moved his head towards where he thought her hand might be, to see if he could direct it towards his throat. But she had moved. He sank back on his heels.

"Sorry about that pet, how silly of me! I'll be right back."

His heart sunk. Was she going to leave again? He wasn't sure how much more teasing he could take. But the door didn't open. He heard her walk to the bedroom. "Jesus Christ." she said under her breath. "Is this really how you think I set up my pillows?" He hung his head. Wrong.

He spun around into all fours. He knew she loved his ass and thought maybe that would be enough to entice her to let him out of this imaginary cage.

He heard her come back in the room. "I know you tried, but those pillows look terrible." She ran the flat of her palm down the length of his spine, jumped the mesh waistband and settled her hand onto his bare ass cheek. Pulled back, slapped. "Not." Slap. "Good." Slap. "Enough." Slap.

They were the kind of hits that sounded more than stung, but the contact felt nice. He started to arch his hips, back and forward, hoping that she would see his attempt at fucking and take pity on him, but she moved too quickly. She reached under the cherry apron, and felt for his leaky cock. "This is what you needed, yes?" And suddenly it made sense why she had moved into the bedroom.

She slipped his chain lead onto his cock and balls. He whimpered. She pulled them tight. His back arched towards her. "Come here, pet." And she pulled the chain. "Please."

He straightened up, put his hands on his thighs, under the apron, and squeezed. No matter what, she said in the note, stay put. But here she was in person, leading him, guiding him, begging him to come closer.

It went on like this for a little bit. Her pulling his chain at various angles, teasing him, taunting him. She touched various parts of his skin, sometimes gently, sometimes hungrily. Sometimes, he thought, with a hint of anger, or even cruelty. She slapped his face. She rubbed her thumb over his lips. She nibbled his ear and ran her tongue on his neck.

But not her hand. The instructions were to stay put until he felt her hand on his neck, so he was immobilized.

"Ok, pet. If you don't want me, I'll just leave you be." He shook his head, and moved the apron so she could see his throbbing cock. Moved his hands to prayer position. He knew she would laugh at him, and he was willing to endure it. He really, really needed her hand on his throat.

But she wouldn't relent. He sat back on his heels. Whimpering. Waiting.

He could tell she was on the couch, and he tried to reach for her while still staying on the X. She gave him her hand. Squeezed. He attempted to quickly move it to his neck and she dropped his hand immediately. "Are you trying to trick me, pet?" He shook his head. Knew it was a foolish long shot.

"If you really want my hand on your neck, all you have to do is ask." He knew this was a trick, so he swallowed, and remained silent.

"Are you trying to remind me that your tongue is only good for one thing?" Yes, he nodded. Yes, please let me be an obedient pet. Please let me pleasure you, and give you everything you want. Please let me off of this spot so I can touch you and praise you and submit to you and do anything that would bring you pleasure. Please let me prove I'm your favorite. He tried to communicate all this with a nod but it wasn't exactly easy.

"You can't think of any way to ask me to put my hand on your throat?" He hesitated. Surely it wasn't that easy.

He could tell she was standing behind him, She put her fingers in his hair, tugged. "Ask, pet. Ask and I'll give you what you want." She let his head go, and he straightened up. Extended his thighs so his torso was ramrod straight. Hoping that this was what she meant, he dropped his head back, so his throat was fully exposed, and stretched his neck out fully.

She sank to her knees behind him. Let his body rest on hers. "What a good pet you are, " she said, tracing the length of his arms from fingertip past elbow to shoulder, collarbone. He took a sharp breath in, but didn't move his neck at all. The back of his head was resting on her shoulder. She kissed his neck.

"You did so, so well, pet." She murmured at him. "You know," her fingers traced his sternum, "you are" Her forefinger and thumb brushed collarbones, out-in, out - in, "my favorite."

Finally, finally, her hand grabbed his throat."And what's more" She squeezed. "You're all mine." He fell back into her entirely, off his knees, and down into a sitting position. He didn't care if she kept squeezing his throat. Didn't care that his legs were pins and needles. Didn't care that his cock was entirely spent from all the extended edging.

Everything was ok now. He proved he was a good pet. She confirmed it. She'd given him the exact kind of release he didn't realize he was craving. A demonstration of skill, of obedience. An opportunity to play with her, and be on display for her. An object for her to toy with, nothing more. And certainly, nothing less. She'd designed this evening for him, specifically, and he proved he was worthy of that effort, that care.

He did everything right, and that was enough.

"You can speak, now, too, you know." She told him, removing his blindfold and pressing a glass of water into his hand.

"Drink."

He did, not realizing how exhausted he had been from this exercise in discipline. He wasn't even sure how much time it had been since he'd waited at her doorstep. He parted his lips, took a breath in. Both of them knew what his first words would be before he said them.

"Thank you."