subscribe
The Most Beautiful Nightmare You'll Never Have…
Lifestyle Domme & Mistress

A day in domestic slavery

slave-diaries

16 April 2015

Mistress

Things couldn’t have got off to a worse start.

My car is not really designed for the longer journey. Although it can purr along at 80mph, I’m always concerned that the comparatively smaller wheels, and more importantly tyres, must be finding it a little hot if that type of speed was maintained for too long. I therefore allowed two hours instead of the 1hr 45mins which had proved a generous allowance in larger hire cars. The other benefit of leaving at 8am was to beat the main rush hour traffic.

The route to the motorway was busy, as was to be expected. The route to the main motorway access from any city is always busy. A lorry had however chosen that morning to break down at the most inconvenient point and the road system ground to a halt. From being early I was late and, somewhat naughtily, but reasonably safely, because the traffic was stationery, as soon as I could see the cause of the delay and could predict its effect on my journey time, I sent a text to my Mistress to pre-warn her off my tardiness.

Only a very small element of my journey is motorway. Most of the route is a fast, mainly dual carriageway, trunk A road. However signs on the motorway pre-warned of a major problem on that A road. I thought on my feet (well on my bum in this particular incidence) and realised that a longer, virtually all motorway, was an alternative.

At this point I’ll digress temporarily.

I have always espoused the virtues of using modern technology amongst my, mainly reluctant, colleagues of my age group. I find they almost invariably embrace the basics eventually.  It has been rather inconsistent of me to shun the satnav in its various forms. After all , I could read a map and knew my Geography fairly well. On reflection such argument was no different to that of my colleagues, who would always tell me that as they had a pen and paper what good was a computer?

It was in fact my Mistress who convinced me of the benefits of having satnav. I guess it’s no surprise that I listen to her and absorb her opinions and advice like blotting paper. Having been conquered by her and now helplessly restrained by vices on her moulding and breaking machine, my thoughts and mind will invariably be one of the first parts that will be finely tuned. After all, once that part responds perfectly to the handlers will, the rest of the chattel should almost modify itself.

Following her guidance I had in fact downloaded a satnav on my phone and I knew this would prove very useful for the latter part of my self imposed diversion. This was certainly the case. A quick stop at a services car park towards the end of my route enabled me to set the satnav and guide me to her domain from there.

Back to the day.

Prior to arrival I was correctly stressed as a consequence of my lateness. There were excuses but ultimately my job was to turn up at a certain time and I didn’t. I am beginning to appreciate that excuses are merely means by which we retain our dignity during failure. A slave should embrace his worthlessness and with it sacrifice dignity which is a barrier to the mental state required of a slave.  I vowed to merely apologise and acknowledge my failure. I had failed her.

She made no mention of my tardiness on my arrival and set me on my first task. I was to clean an oven and a microwave. These are tasks I have performed many times before in a vanilla role. Cleaning an oven is a particularly dirty and to some extend hazardous job. The cleanser has to be quite powerful, acidic with quite strong fumes. Her wisdom shone through yet again. This was a hard, messy, time consuming job befitting a slave.

Cleaning an oven is also a thankless task. If you clean anything, a car, bike, shoes, boots, kitchen floor or furniture for example, and see the end product shining in new showroom condition, it makes an individual feel positive and proud. With an oven that cannot be achieved. Having covered the inside of the over (apart from a small area of the inside of the door because the cleaner ran out), I allowed it to stand, as instructed, to do its caustic best and eat into the ingrained burnt fat that invariably line any oven.

When I returned to the oven about an hour later I was able to remove copious amounts of now liquefied fat and large chunks of solidified grease from the oven. It was as clean I could possibly make it but it was not shining or in showroom condition, so I could feel no pride in the end product.

I had pre-determined that the object of the day was to benefit her.  I was aware that I would be in the presence of her family and also possibly in the presence of the weekly cleaner. My aims for the day were:

To leave having achieved objectives that benefited my Mistress dependent on the tasks required
To disturb my Mistress as little as possible and only absolutely when needed to perform the tasks set. Obviously the sight, sound and persona of my Mistress stirs the submission inside me but a day such as that was certainly not to involve arousal for myself. It was to work and achieve real practical benefits for her.
To fit in to the family day without being detrimental to the normal domestic activity. I didn’t want anyone to regard me as an intruder or make them feel uneasy about my presence.

I determined that the best way to approach the day in order to achieve the above was to clearly present myself as a slave and skivvy by my dress and demeanour. I was after all just that. I wasn’t the local handyman, I was a slave.

I know from my own experience, If I employ a handyman, a plumber, electrician, tree doctor, fence repair man etc., I may be paying them but I invariably concern myself with their well being. Are they too hot, cold or wet? Do they want a tea or coffee? etc etc. As such, they unwittingly intrude on my day. If I could successfully portray myself as a real slave I would hopefully belay any such concerns and effectively intrude less or ideally, not at all.

I dressed as close as I could to portray a skivvy or slave during my work. I set out to work solidly from the time I arrived to the time I left. From one job, immediately on to the next, no breaks, no tea, coffee or any other refreshment from the time I started to the time to finish. This is what would be expected and imposed on a slave. I felt like a slave. I could sense myself perspiring. I never tired, I never flinched.

I had previously been aware that there was a risk of putting myself into a robotic mind set. I had to ensure that did not happen. The brain had to be kept alert and aware. It was essential it felt the pain and humiliation. She wanted that and the whole objective of the day was to meet her needs and desires.

She had provided a list of tasks to be performed. I could not complete them all in the time available despite my unyielding efforts. Yet again I had failed. Maybe adequate, but failure just the same. it was as it should be. My Mistress had been benefited but there was no cause for self satisfaction. I arrived as her slave, I left as her slave, I am always her slave.

slave penny

Leave a Reply

Leave a Reply

Follow Me