When Femdom Dreams Come True

“How is your business, slave? Anything new?”
The question took me totally off guard, and for a second I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was naked, having spent most of the last few days being beaten and locked in a cage. I was her prisoner, with electric shockers around my neck and testicles. She had just fucked me with a strapon dildo even though we had agreed that was a hard limit. I had cried and peed on myself, and now she wanted small talk?
“It’s fine, Ma’am. No, nothing new.” I kept my eyes on my plate. After a few moments it was obvious she was staring at me.
“I could keep you gagged all the time, slave. But I don’t, because I find you moderately interesting. Mumble short answers to my questions and I’ll change my mind.”
“I’m sorry Ma’am, my business is at a stage where it’s running smoothly, but I’m considering releasing a new informational product to my list…” 
I told her what I was planning on doing and what it would entail. I was pretty excited about it, actually. I thought it could do well. As I talked, I got more comfortable speaking about my business while naked and wearing a collar. Amara listened attentively and asked questions; she even suggested something that would make it a better product. I had forgotten how smart she was. We then talked about her art and what she was planning on doing next.
“That’s better, slave. You may continue to speak in my presence when I tell you to.” 
I smiled, even though I didn’t want to. 
She stood.
“Do the dishes. Then sweep the floor and clean the refrigerator. Make sure you do a thorough job. Find me when you’re done.”
She dropped her napkin onto the table and walked out. 
I washed and dried the dishes, feeling that same weird excitement in my chest and groin. Then I swept the kitchen and cleaned out the refrigerator. I cleaned the shelves. I checked the dates of all the condiments to make sure nothing was expired. I dusted everything. Then I found Amara in the living room and kissed her feet.
“You’re sure everything is clean?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” 
“Crawl after me.”
She put down her book and walked to the kitchen. I followed at her heels. 
“Stay.” 
I watched as she inspected the stove and underneath the jars and bottles on the counter. She opened the refrigerator and looked at the shelves, then brought out a step stool and looked at the top of the fridge, which I’d anticipated. Then she pulled the fridge out a foot and pushed it to the side. Underneath the refrigerator was dusty and dirty. She looked at me. 
“I’m-I’m sorry Ma’am! I didn’t think- AAaaaahhhh!!!” 
I doubled over in pain. 
“Come here. Now!”
I crawled to her.
“Did I tell you to clean the kitchen?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Did I tell you to do a thorough job?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Is this thorough?”
“No, Ma’am”
The pain shot through my neck and balls. I guess saying no was still a crime.
“I-I’m s-sorry Ma’am.”
“Lick it.”
“What?”
“Lick the floor. Lick up the dust.”
I stared at her open-mouthed.
“AAAHHH”
“Do it now!”
I dove at the floor and began licking. After the first lick, my tongue was covered in dust. After the third lick, my chest heaved and I was positive I’d throw up.
“Stop. Head down.”
She let me wait there for about a minute. I could feel her eyes on me the whole time. My heart was racing. I could taste the dirt and grime on my tongue. I heaved but didn’t vomit.
“Over the kitchen table, head toward the window.”
I hurried over the kitchen table. Amara followed and reattached the collar chains and wrist cuffs from earlier. She left the room and returned a few moments later. She stood behind me. 
“Can you tell me what this is?”
“It’s a crop, Ma’am.”
“Good boy. Count.”
WHAP!
“ONE!”
WHAP!
“TWO!”
WHAP!
“THREE!”
WHAP!
“FOUR!”
WHAP!
“FIVE!”
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! 
TEN!!
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
“TWENTY!!!”
She came around the table and took my face in her hands. Her palms were cool. She lifted my eyes to meet hers. When she did, she clicked the shocker for my balls and a steady, barely manageable pain shot through me. I looked away quickly.
“Look at me, slave.”
She spoke slowly and calmly.
“When I tell you to clean. You do just that. Is that understood?”
“Yes Ma’am!! Yes! I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Am I going to have this trouble again?”
“No, Ma’am! No!”
“You may think this punishment is harsh, but tell me, are you going to forget to clean under the refrigerator ever again?”
“No Ma’am!”
“So punishment is necessary.”
“Yes, Ma’am! Please!”
“Please what?”
“Ma’am, please give me another chance to show you I can be a good slave!”
She lowered my head just a bit and the pain in my testicles stopped. She kissed me slowly on the forehead. 
“Of course I will, slave.”
She unchained me from the table, uncuffing my wrists and recuffing them behind my back. Then she undid my collar and attached a leash. 
“Come, slave. Upstairs.”
She kept a steady pull on the leash as I crawled behind her.
“Go to the bathroom and rinse out your mouth. Come to the bedroom when you’re done.”
I turned on the tap with my foot, then leaned forward and rinsed out my mouth. It felt wonderful to not have dust and dirt on my tongue.
In the bedroom, Amara sat at the edge of the bed. 
“Kneel between my legs, slave.”
She lifted her skirt. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and she was already wet. 
“Worship me, slave.”
I did. In spite of everything she’d done to me, or maybe because of it, I was rock hard, and she was the most beautiful woman in the world.