Your New Rubber Maid Pt. 01

Frustrations mount as I struggle to make friends or find a place to live. Meeting in a bar or pub, we hit it off, we seem to be enjoying company. Me, a little bit shy, you are quite powerful leading the conversation. You see potential.

After a few meets, conversations you tell me you have a spot I can stay for a few weeks if I need it. I ask whether I'll need to pay rent but you say so long as a few chores/tasks are done it's no problem so I accept. You ask me to book a week off from work. I'm a little confused but you say it's to move in without being frustrated and so I do it.

I don't bring much, intending to only stay a short while so moving in is easy. As the night progresses either I start feeling tired or drunk until I eventually fall to sleep. You tactfully make your way into the room, removing my boxers and installing a small pink chastity cage onto me.

Morning comes and I wake to a shock, I have no idea what's going on or how it's happened. I look around the room, thinking you might be there. It's a basic room, just the bed, a small desk with a chair, a few posters claiming to "think pink", "submit" and a portrait of a key. I immediately look for answers, as I raise my voice and get angry you shoot me down.

You tell me if I want any hope about being unlocked I best shut the fuck up and do what I'm told. I quiet down. You look over at me and tell me to get to the bathroom and strip. I'm nervous. You pull out one of the keys and tell me that it's a set of 3. Everytime I disobey a direct order you threaten me with one of the keys. I do as I'm told, holding myself awkwardly I ask for the keys.

You look at me dead in the eye and throw the key into the toilet. I awkwardly run over hoping to catch it, as you flush and force my face into the swirling water. I cough and splutter, asking why but you ignore me. You inform me that there are only 2 keys remaining.

You gesture towards some foam and razors or hair removal cream and tell me to use it. I do as I'm told, removing all hair below the eyebrows. As I shower clean you touch me, I'm nervous again. Touch feels strange. You order me to finish alone and I do so as you take my clothes from the floor.

As I come out of the room without any clothes and just a simple pink hand towel you order me to dry my body seductively in front of you. It's awkward but it's enough. You tell me to get dressed and I walk to the room you provided. The small amount of things I have are nowhere to be seen. Not my phone, my car keys or any clothes. On the bed is a pair of bright pink panties, a pair of black thigh high socks and a maids dress. I turn to object but you're in the doorway watching. I do as I'm told. I dress for you, I spin and model this outfit for your pleasure. Turn and face the wall and pull your dress up. You walk behind, grasping firmly pulling my pretty pink panties to the side. A cold well lubed plug enters. Keep that in there.

As I finish dressing you take a look around the apartment listing everything that needs cleaning/doing. I go to speak once more, but you tire. You slap my face, telling me that I don't need words anymore except "Yes Mistress/Master" you ask me if I understand I use the only words in my vocabulary that are allowed.

After spending the day cleaning, waiting at your beck and call to tell me your intentions. You want so many things, a maid, a toy, a pet and that the easiest way is to just make one person do all these things. I don't know what's worse, the menial tasks and lack of attention or the hyper attention as you flick my skirt or play with my cage which causes me to strain under the pressure.

The day seems incredibly long, when tasks are completed you tell me to wait in my room. A tiny shoebox with a bed with nothing in it. The boredom drives me wild. Part of me wants this, the rest hates what I'm doing.

Whenever you call I come and fulfil the ridiculous tasks you set. I constantly stare at my tormentor. You clock my noticing stares and order me close, striking me to remind me that I'm not to stare. After this back and forth of menial tasks and my ever growing boredom and conflicting desires you call.

I make my way into the room, you sit, legs open, nothing on. If I have any hope of retrieving a key I know what I need to do.

I hate myself for doing it but I do it for a chance of freedom that I know deep down is no longer an option. After I'm finished you tell me that day 1 is just the beginning. You smile knowing I'm starting to break. You send me back to my room and I wait. Finally you enter with sleeping clothes. You tell me to change and I do so. You tell me to sleep. My mind wanders and I fight tears before succumbing.

I wake early in the morning, an alarm clock you've provided means morning duties have begun. I dressed myself in yesterday's attire feeling like a cheap whore.

I begin my tasks before I hear you call, I enter with a hot beverage. You smile warmly. It's surprising how much I relish it.

You tell me to continue your duties from yesterday as you pull the covers off. I finally plucked up the courage to speak. You anger and I get to my duties. You tell me as I'm going down what the day will entail. Eventually the door goes. You tell me to answer. I can't. I'm mortified.

You take note and answer the door. Bringing the package inside I look nervously, you walk past me to the window and throw a key outside. I'm near breaking point. I can't, I simply can't.

You open the package and it's what I fear, gifts for me. Cheap cocktail jewellery that highlights me being a slut. You wonder about how I should look before you tell me to follow. We make our way to the bathroom and once again I'm demanded to strip, in an effort to impress or not lose the last key I do so.

You position me under you and tell me to open wide, I have to do it. I open. Golden showers spill down as I try my hardest to drink. You intentionally make a mess and tell me to sit and wait until you're ready.

Time passes as I wallow in your rain. Eventually you come in. Shower. I do so. You watch, I am mortified. Eventually I finish and you walk me into the other room. You have an outfit of choice you want me in. I do as I'm told. The day passes similar to the other, menial task by menial task. Recompleting the same task over and over until it's at your impossibly high standards. Finally you call me into my room. On the floor you command, face the wall. I do so, you push my face onto the floor and pull my hands behind my back, tying them tightly. I feel a cold gel and warm fingers preparing me. I'm not sure whether I can go through with it, you tell me to shush and open my mouth before putting in a gag. From behind I feel something enter, it's cold and hard and strong, slowly pushing in. You walk around the side of me.

"This is your reward for doing such a good job, aren't you happy? Aren't you pleased? You're such a good girl." The fuck machine gets to work, it's slow at first. You tell me to relax, to enjoy myself and I struggle in the moment. But you wait, keeping track. You might even sit on the bed and put your feet on my back waiting for me to be fully open taking it in stride. The plastic cock gets faster under your instruction. You tell me that with each thrust I'm to moan. "No, try again. Higher pitch. Make me hear you. Make me believe you. That this is your new god." An eternity seems to pass as my new god forcibly pleasures the sound of my feminine moans paired with my newly dubbed clit straining against its cage. Day 2 eventually passes.

I dream of my life returning to normal, I wanted this so badly and yet at the same time yearning to be free. Waking up my options are limited. It's just the beginning of day three but I'm already feeling divided.

I see the door open once more. You are silent. You move a chair and place it beside a cabinet, a mirror, a makeup box and a tablet preloaded with tutorials.

"Tell me when you're done." As you leave I immediately check the internet. Maybe I can contact someone... no its not connected... resigned to my fate for now I spend the next hour applying like the videos. I can already tell it's wrong but a creak of the floorboards outside tells me I'm already wasting time. It's done I call sheepishly. You walk in, placing your hand gently across the bottom of my chin, pulling my face left then right. You shake your head. Go face the wall and place your hands up.

Thwack a sharp pain to my cheeks. Thwack. Thwack. I dare to think about losing count but I know that'd be worse. After 20 you sit me down, it hurts a little to sit. You grab my head and swiftly wipe everything away. Try again you say.

The process repeats and I spend an hour trying and failing before the thunder of a whip striking me interrupts my efforts.

After what seems like an eternity you walk in for what I hope is the last time. Inspecting my work, a slight movement of your lips shows you're not pleased but you quickly say it's passable.

I sigh, my efforts acknowledged barely but somehow i've done it. I catch myself in the mirror. Is that a smile? Am I happy to receive the slightest amount of praise? No that's not-

Then you say two words. "Good girl". I feel tingles from my cheeks quickly blushing, my clit straining once more. My whole body reacts violently. "One more addition". I look up struggling to control my emotions as red locks cover my eyes as the hair parts and I see myself in the mirror.

It's the makings of a girl, she's not quite ready. A nervous smile, awkward makeup and haphazard hair but she's starting to dawn. I snap from my stupor as I hear a camera click. As I turn I see an old kodak camera, the ones that print instantly. Snap. A second picture. You place them around the mirror. "Isn't she just a pretty girl?" I can't tell whether you're being genuine or sarcastic or whether I should be proud or humiliated. "Tell her that she's pretty." What? I-. Your eyes narrow, I quickly turn to the pictures. Um you're pretty.

"Do better. That's a very pretty girl. Tell her more. Tell her how you are proud of her." You're incredibly pretty, you're so brave and beautiful.

We sit for the next 10 minutes, I know what you're doing. You're trying to get me to do positive affirmations. But as I carry on saying I hear a buzz, in your hand is a wand that you're gently lowering. "Carry on now."

"This is a new chore you'll do every morning. You'll get clean, do your makeup and your wig and put on clothes and then you'll spend 30 minutes with a wand on your clit telling the girl in the mirror and the photos how pretty she is. I nod. You begin to walk away before saying "Come you've got chores to be doing." Oh that's right... I've got so much to do and half the time I had...

Day 4 - the start of a new day doesn't bring me much joy, my clit strains, my arms ache and I know that I've got a long road ahead. I look at my body... It's been a few days now, a boy is trying to reemerge. I know what that means.

Heading into the bathroom I see that my concerns have already been anticipated. A set of disposable lady razors and cream are already laid out. I spent time removing traces of my boyhood returning. It's slow and painful. There are so many cuts. I know you're going to be furious but what can I do?

I quickly dry hearing a cough behind the door. I've got to get my makeup done, I need to tell her how pretty she is, I've got to brush my hair and vibrate my clit. The pressure is mounting to be such a good girl, whilst somehow holding on to my crumbling ego.

Hours pass and I finally exit. I rushed... it's obvious. There are cuts across my legs, my makeup is all wrong. Its such a huge step back and all I can do is sit in silence knowing my last key is fucked.