A Mother in Law's Visit

The next morning, I woke him with a sharp kick to his ribs. "Up, bitch. Now."

David scrambled to his knees on the dog bed, blinking behind his blindfold, disoriented. I unlocked the leash from the bedpost but left it attached to his collar, yanking him to his feet. He stumbled after me as I dragged him by the neck into my en suite bathroom.

"Kneel," I commanded, pointing to the shower floor. He dropped to the tiles, his chained hands awkwardly in front of him. I stepped in beside him, my silk robe falling open.

"Open wide," I ordered, positioning myself above his face. When he hesitated, I grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back. "I said open."

His mouth opened in a choked gasp, and I released my bladder. The hot stream hit his tongue, splashing across his face as he gagged and tried to pull away. I held him firm, my grip in his hair unyielding.

"Swallow it," I snapped. "Every drop."

He choked it down, his throat working convulsively, tears mixing with my piss on his cheeks. When I finished, I pushed his face into the drain. "Lick it clean. All of it."

He lapped at the shower floor like an animal while I watched, arms crossed. When I deemed it sufficient, I turned on the cold water full blast. He gasped and tried to scramble away, but I planted my foot on his back, holding him under the freezing spray.

"That's for hesitating," I said coldly. "Now wash yourself properly. Use the soap. Every inch."

He scrubbed himself frantically with his chained hands while I supervised, correcting his technique with sharp slaps to his wet skin. When he was done, I tossed him a threadbare towel.

"Now get to the kitchen. I'm hungry."

I led him by the leash, his dripping body leaving wet footprints on my hardwood floors. In the kitchen, I unlocked his wrist restraints but left the ankle cuffs and collar on.

"Make breakfast," I ordered, sitting at the table with my coffee. "Two eggs, scrambled, toast, fruit. And you'd better not fuck it up."

He moved clumsily, his body still shivering from the cold shower, his cock cage visible through the thin towel. I watched him work, correcting his posture with the leash when he slouched, making him restart the eggs when they weren't fluffy enough. By the time he served me, he was trembling with exhaustion and humiliation.

I ate while he knelt beside my chair, the leash tied to the table leg. When I finished, I pushed the plate away and patted his head like a good dog.

"Acceptable for a first attempt," I said. "Now clean up. And if you're very good, I might let you lick the plate when you're done.”

After breakfast, I led him back to the bathroom, the leash pulling taut as he shuffled behind me. I unlocked the leash from his collar but left the cuffs on his ankles. "Dry yourself properly," I commanded, tossing him a fresh towel. "And make it quick. I haven't got all day."

He patted himself dry, the towel catching on the metal of his cock cage. I watched critically, tapping my foot. When he was done, I pointed to the floor at my feet. "Kiss."

He hesitated for a moment, then pressed his lips to my toes, his breath warm against my skin. "Thank you, Mistress," he murmured.

I smirked. "That's a start. Hands behind your back.”

I chained his hands once again behind his back, then stepped back and spread my legs, my robe falling open to reveal my bare pussy. "Kiss. Properly this time."

He knelt awkwardly, his chained hands behind his back, and pressed his lips to my mound. I grabbed his hair and pulled him in closer, forcing his tongue inside me. "Get it wet," I ordered. "Make it good."

He complied, his tongue working eagerly despite his awkward position. I rode his face for a few moments, enjoying the sensation, then pushed him away. "Enough. You've earned a small reprieve."

I unlocked the cuffs from his ankles and the manacles from his wrists, rubbing the red marks gently. "There. A little reward for your efforts. But don't think you're off the hook."

I led him to the spare room, now his bedroom, and handed him a dust rag. "Clean. Everything. And take those boxes to the garage. I want this room spotless by the end of the day."

He started with the dusting, his movements now freer with his hands unbound. I watched for a moment, then left him to it, returning to my lounge to read. Every so often, I'd check on his progress, correcting his technique with sharp words and the occasional slap to his ass. When he struggled with a heavy box, I made him do it again until he got it right.

By the end of the day, the room was spotless, and the boxes were neatly stacked in the garage. He knelt in the center of the room, his head bowed, waiting for my inspection. I walked around him slowly, checking every surface, every corner. Every piece of furniture. When I was satisfied, I nodded.

We spent the next hour meticulously arranging the furniture to my exact specifications. This room had once been my ex-husband's cell, and now it would serve the same purpose for David. I wanted to make sure every detail was perfect for his training and confinement.

First, I positioned the uncomfortable camp bed in the center of the room. The thin mattress and flimsy frame would ensure he got little rest, keeping him constantly aware of his surroundings and his discomfort. I made sure the bed faced the door, so I could watch him at all times when I entered the room.

Next, I moved the cage into the corner. It was a small, cramped space, barely large enough for him to lie down or sit up. The bars were widely spaced, allowing for a clear view of his pathetic form at all times. I secured the door with a sturdy padlock, testing it to ensure it held fast.

I then turned my attention to the rings bolted to the walls. There were four in total, two on either side of the bed. I tested each one, pulling sharply to make sure they were secure. These would be used for restraining him in various positions, ensuring he couldn't move an inch when I needed him still.

The hooks in the ceiling were the final touch. I had installed these myself, ensuring they were strong enough to support significant weight. I tested each one, giving them a firm tug. These would be used to suspend him or to attach various implements and toys that would aid in his training and punishment.

As I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I felt a sense of satisfaction. The room was now a perfect blend of discomfort and control, designed to break him down and remake him into the obedient slave I needed. The camp bed, cage, wall rings, and ceiling hooks all served a purpose, and together, they created an environment of constant surveillance and restriction.

After arranging the furniture to my satisfaction, I returned to the room where David was still kneeling, his head bowed. I circled him slowly, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor, savoring the anticipation of what was to come.

"Stand up," I commanded, my voice sharp and authoritative. He complied, his movements uncertain and nervous. I could see the fear in his eyes, and it pleased me immensely. I led him back to my room.

I began by applying light makeup to his face, starting with a touch of foundation to even out his skin tone. I added a subtle blush to his cheeks and a hint of eyeliner to define his eyes. Finally, I finished with a coat of mascara, making his lashes dark and prominent. I stepped back to admire my work, a satisfied smile playing on my lips.

Next, I dressed him in a pair of sheer black stockings, slowly rolling them up his legs to ensure they were smooth and wrinkle-free. I secured them with a garter belt, the black lace contrasting starkly with his pale skin. The sight was almost too delicious to bear.

I then fitted him with a lacy black bra, the cups barely containing his small breasts. I adjusted the straps, making sure they dug into his shoulders just enough to be uncomfortable. The final touch was a pair of tiny black panties, the fabric so thin it left little to the imagination.

Over this, I dressed him in a maid's outfit—a short black dress with a white apron tied around his waist. The skirt was so short it barely covered his ass, and the neckline plunged low, revealing the swells of his breasts. I fastened the apron securely, ensuring the bow was perfectly centered.

I stepped back to inspect my handiwork, my eyes roaming over his transformed body. He looked pathetic and slutty, exactly as I intended. His face was a picture of humiliation and embarrassment, his cheeks flushed with shame.

"Well, well, look at you," I purred, circling him like a predator. "Aren't you a pretty little thing? I do believe my guests will enjoy having you around."

David's eyes widened in horror. "Guests, Mistress? What guests?"

I chuckled, running a finger down his cheek. "Oh, just a couple of friends of mine. They're quite... appreciative of a good-looking slave. And you, my dear, are going to be the center of attention."

I could see the panic rising in his eyes, but I merely smiled, enjoying his discomfort. "Now, now, don't look so worried. You're going to be a good little maid, aren't you? Serve them drinks, maybe even give them a little... entertainment. Wouldn't that be fun?"

I trailed a hand down his body, squeezing his ass through the thin fabric of the panties. "Yes, I think my guests are going to have a very enjoyable evening indeed. And so will I, watching you squirm and obey."

With that, I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures, capturing every angle of his humiliating attire. I made sure to get close-ups of his made-up face, the lace stockings, the tiny panties, and the plunging neckline of the maid's outfit. I even snapped a few shots of him from behind, showcasing how the short skirt barely covered his ass.

"These will be perfect for Emma," I said, scrolling through the photos with a satisfied smile. "She's going to love seeing you like this. Such a shame she can't be here to enjoy it in person. But don't worry, I'll make sure she gets every delicious detail."

I saved the photos and sent them to Emma with a quick message: "Look what I've done with your pathetic ex. He's going to make a fine addition to the evening. Wish you could be here to see it!"

With that, I left him standing there, his mind racing with dread and anticipation. I had a few more preparations to make before my guests arrived, and I intended to savor every moment of his humiliation.

After dressing David in his slutty maid's outfit and taking the humiliating pictures for Emma, I led him back to his room, my heels clicking sharply on the floor. He shuffled behind me, his head bowed in shame, the short skirt of his dress riding up with each step.

Once in the room, I pushed him roughly onto the camp bed. "On your knees," I commanded. He complied, his movements clumsy and awkward in his tight clothing.

I reached into a drawer and pulled out a posture collar—a stiff, black leather device designed to keep his head held high and his back straight. I fastened it around his neck, adjusting the straps until his chin was forced up and his spine was ramrod straight. He let out a small gasp of discomfort as I tightened it, ensuring there was no room for slouching or relaxation.

Next, I selected a ball gag from my collection of toys. It was a large, black rubber ball attached to a sturdy leather harness. I buckled it securely around his head, forcing the ball deep into his mouth. His eyes widened in panic as I tightened the straps, ensuring the gag was snug and unyielding.

With his head and mouth secured, I turned my attention to his arms. I grabbed a pair of leather cuffs, the insides lined with a rough, abrasive material designed to chafe and irritate. I fastened one cuff around each wrist, then pulled his arms painfully behind his back, crossing them at the elbows. I connected the cuffs with a short chain, pulling it tight until his shoulders ached and his elbows protested.

Finally, I attached a length of chain to the rings on his wrist cuffs and secured the other end to one of the bolts in the wall. I gave the chain a sharp tug, ensuring it was taut and unyielding, pulling his arms up and back at an uncomfortable angle.

I stepped back to admire my handiwork, a satisfied smile playing on my lips. David knelt on the bed, his posture collar forcing his head up, his back straight and tense. The ball gag muffled his breaths, and his arms were pulled painfully behind him, chained to the wall. He looked pathetic and helpless, exactly as I intended.

"Now, now, don't look so uncomfortable," I cooed, running a finger down his cheek. "You'll get used to it. And besides, it's not like you have a choice, do you?"

With that, I left him there, kneeling on the bed, his body tense and aching. I had preparations to make for my guests, and I intended to enjoy every moment of his discomfort while I got ready. The sight of him, bound and gagged, would be the perfect backdrop to my evening of entertainment.