A Slaves Strength

Inconthieveable

A Slave’s Strength Chapter 30

By

Mechgogo

The rest of the day passed quickly. It was the most normal, homelike interval he has spent since asking Mistress Beth and that asshole Frenchy if their vests were fireproof. Tom was no stranger to housework. Before moving in with the girls if he wanted a clean home it was get off his ass and clean or live in filth. Afterwards; hey he’d made at least a third of the mess. It was only fair to do his part.

During the tour Mistress showed him the cleaning supplies and he put them to good use.  When he had gotten his first real home that wasn’t a squat with roaches running rampant and some  junkie using one corner for a toilet he had developed tidy habits. There was no shame to being poor he reckoned but there was also no excuse for being a slob. Soap was cheap and if you worked at anything-even crime- to pay for a place it only made sense to take some pride in it.

One of the items had taken some figuring out. It looked like a mop but was only about two feet long. Instead of a normal handle this one ended with a little clamshell device that worked the ringer when the halves of the shell were compressed together. Heavy vinyl straps and a buckle were mounted on either side. There were also what looked like a scrub brush and little broom in similar configuration.

Mistress had seen him puzzling it out, a process that didn’t take long. She made him open his mouth and put the end piece between his teeth.

“Mind your tongue dear.” She said smiling at him. “I have plans for it later.” He had blushed at that.

As Tom had suspected the mop wasn’t meant to be operated manually but rather held in the mouth and used on all fours. Mistress explained that he would be cleaning the house with it and it’s companion pieces from time to time either when he did a poor job using the normal tools available or when she just decided she wanted him to. Since Mistress didn’t insist on their use that particular day he avoided them.

He started prepping for dinner first. Good food was another passion of his. A lifetime of subsisting on crap had given Tom a real appreciation for good cooking when it was available. Just because you could survive on garbage didn’t mean you should avoid quality when you could get it. He whipped up a citrus marinade for the chicken, set the meat to doing its thing and got busy elsewhere in the house. A pasta side and salad would take minutes. The longer he let the meat set the better it would be.

Mistress interrupted his work periodically throughout the day. Sometimes she wanted her drink refilled or to have her mouth or feet kissed or rubbed. He was happy to oblige even if it did leave him with a set of blue balls you could see from orbit.

He asked for and received permission to polish his boots. He wanted to look his best for the visit home and they were pretty scruffy looking. That had been a gray area to his mind since it wasn’t technically part of the housecleaning process . Normally it would have been filed under “Better to ask forgiveness than permission” but he was trying to keep on Mistress’ good side. Then Mistress promptly yelled at him for doing it inside though how she could possibly smell the polish from clear down in the laundry room was a mystery. He got told off again for kneeling on the patio without a pad under him while he worked on the boots out there.

“Do you think I want those knees scraped up and arthritic from kneeling on granite?” Mistress demanded. “You need to take better care of my property you thoughtless little stray! And don’t you dare let me catch you tracking polish into my home either! You wash up at the faucet outside before coming back in.”

Apparently the fact that she had spent some quality time applying a household electrical current to the scrotum of the same property he was getting yelled at for being careless with did not strike Herself as all that contradictory.

At one point Mistress had him bring down a stationary set from her office. She dismissed him only to summon him later, this time to put an envelope sealed with wax between his lips. The envelope was addressed to him and Tom was told to place it on the night stand beside her bed but not to open it until instructed.

As was often the case when he did anything that didn’t require his full attention Tom found himself singing. He was in a good mood and with what he considered to be plenty of just cause. He was out of the center. That little shit Frenchy had caught the anvil with both hands and a promise of more to come down the road. He was working in a nice house for a good looking woman, albeit one with a taste for sodomy.

That part wasn’t such a big deal. If he had to chose between getting cornholed by Mistress and some of the landasaurus rexes he’d observed leading houseboys around when he was free it wasn’t exactly a tough call. Best of all he was going to get to see his girls again! The thought made him a bit manic with happiness.

Of course it also meant he wasn’t paying as close attention to other things as he should have and he caught a spot of hell for it.

“Thomas!” Mistresses voice cracked in his ear. Tom went to his knees, nervously. She’d barely sounded that pissed when she slapped him for swearing during the interview.

“Yes Mistress how may…”

“Living room immediately!”

When Tom scrambled into Mistresses presence on his hands and knees he felt a rush of fear go through him. She was glaring at him even before he was properly in the room Worse yet, she was holding the belt he had been whipped with for being profane earlier.

“Would you care to explain why you are talking to yourself in Irish after our conversation earlier?” She demanded. “Or why you were doing so at such a volume that it was echoing through my entire house? I heard you all the way from upstairs!”

Tom felt his face flush. God damnit ! He’d been doing it again! “I wasn’t talking to myself Mistress. I was singing. I’m very sorry if it disturbed you. I’ll keep it down.”

She looked at him dubiously, clearly trying to figure out just how big a lie he was telling. “You were singing. In Irish.”

Tom nodded. “Yes Mistress.”

“I thought all Irish music was in English and about blowing up British people or getting drunk.”

Stereotype much boss? “No Mistress, that’s mostly the rebel tunes. Relatively recent stuff that. This was an older, piece.” He thought for a second. “You know I’m not really sure how far back that one goes.”

“And the songs name?”

“Beidh Aonach Amarach Mistress.” Tom said  “It’s about a girl who wants to go to a fair and would rather marry a poor cobbler than a wealthy soldier.” He looked down at his lap. “I’ve always liked it because it’s a really pretty song and the theme kinda resonates with me. My in-laws wanted the girls to marry someone they reckoned had decent future ahead of him. Not some lowlife who was probably headed for prison.”

“Why do you do that?” she asked.

Tom was confused. “Do what Mistress?”

“Constantly denigrate yourself. Why do you seem incapable of opening your mouth without saying something derogatory about yourself? Do you like being called bad names? Is that why you don’t seem to mind when I talk to you as if you were a dog?”

Tom shook his head. “It’s not that Mistress. It’s just…” he stopped, thinking about his past, all the stuff in it he was ashamed of. And all the stuff he wasn’t ashamed of but was smart enough to know should have made him a bit sick to think about. “I’ve done…”

“Yes yes,” Mistress said in exasperation “horrible things. I understand. But that does not mean that you are a bad person now Thomas. And I will not have you speaking of yourself in that manner any more. It is discourteous to more than just you. It calls into question the judgment of your wives and Mistress Melanie for bringing you to my attention and myself for taking you into my service. Tell me, have you seen anything in this house you would consider to be trashy or low class?”

Tom shook his head. “Not at all Mistress.”

“Then what on Earth gives you the right to speak as if I surround myself with rubbish?”

Tom lowered his eyes. “Nothing Mistress. I’m sorry if I was being disrespectful. Should I present myself for discipline?”

“Do you want the belt?”

“No Mistress. But I don’t want you upset with me either. That does bring up a question though. What about when I misbehave and you scold me? Like when I went to polish my boots downstairs?”

“Being a naughty dog is not the same as being a bad person Thomas. You may not allow yourself to admit it but there is a core of integrity in you that anyone can see from a considerable distance. You will begin acknowledging it or we will discuss your willful refusal to do so. Am I clear?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now, the song.”

Tom frowned. “I don’t understand Mistress. What about it?”

She gave an impatient sigh. Why were people with genius IQ’s so painfully thick in some ways? “Sing it for me. Now.”

“Oh! Of course.”

Tom closed his eyes and called the song up in his mind. He let himself move to the rhythm, getting into it and readying his breathing. He opened his mouth and sang, letting his voice fill the room and the emotions the song inspired in him power come out in his rendition.

“Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir

Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir

Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir

Cé mhaith dom é, ní bheidh mé ann?

A mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé?

A mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé?

A mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé?

A mhuirnín ó, ná héiligh é.

Níl tú a deich ná a haon déag fós

Níl tú a deich ná a haon déag fós

Níl tú a deich ná a haon déag fós

Nuair a bheidh tú trí déag beidh tú mór.

B'fhearr liom féin mo ghréasaí bróg

B'fhearr liom féin mo ghréasaí bróg

B'fhearr liom féin mo ghréasaí bróg

Ná oifigeach airm faoi lásaí óir.”

Tom never left his knees as he sang but he bobbed and shifted with the music from his position at Mistress’s feet . He kept time by clapping his hands. By the second verse she was clapping along with him, nodding to the beat and smiling. Tom felt a little thrill go through him. The song always lifted his mood. Sharing it with someone else and learning they liked it too was a good feeling. Especially in this case. Any common ground he could establish with Mistress-hopefuly- make his time in her service that much less stressful. You treated an appliance with indifference. You treated a person or a house pet with kindness.

When he finished Tom looked at Mistress expectantly. Hre reaction did not disappoint. She clapped her hands and beamed at him.

“That was lovely dear. You really do have an exquisite voice. Do you know any other songs?”

Toms ears almost met behind his head he grinned so big. He tapped his temple with two fingers. “I’ve got a library of music up here Mistress. Most of it’s Irish though. I like a lot of the older rock songs but I haven’t put as much time into memorizing or mastering them.”

“Sing me another dear. And keep singing until I tell you to stop.”

Tom bowed deeply. “Gladly Mistress.”

One of Toms many concerns when he was at the center was whether or not whoever bought his contract would allow high lighter side to ever come out of if they’d expect an endless line of bowing and scraping. It was a relief to see that while Mistress expected good manners and a submissive attitude she knew how to lighten up as well. He decided to take a chance and sing a couple of his other favorites.

‘Donald Where’s Your Trousers’ seemed appropriate on a number of levels given his fondness for the kilt and current lack of anything at all on below the waist. He glanced down at his own unclad lap at one point in the song and gave a little ‘What are ya gonna do?’ shrug earning a laugh .

After that Tom sang ‘The Scotsman’, a song about a drunken, kilt-clad Scot who passes out one night on the way home from from the pub only to have a pair of curious girls happen by while he’s sleeping it off. Mistress pressed a handover her mouth and giggled when he sang the line ‘As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow/a-round the bonny star the Scots kilt did lift and show.’ . She burst out laughing on the final line ‘Lad I don’t know where ye been but I see ya won first prize!’

After Mistress composed herself she told him to stop. “That was delightful dear. Thank you for that.” Tom could almost see the lightbulb materialize over her head a second later. “Oh! And I just had the most wonderful idea. Be a lamb and stand up for me Thomas. Legs wide apart and your eyes closed.”

Mistress got off the couch and started from the room. “Hands behind your head as well. Good boy.”

A few minutes later he heard her re-enter the room. Mistress ran a hand over him, reaching between his legs and petting his package. He whimpered at that. If she kept doing that he just knew he’d get the shit beat out of himself for coming without permission. And she obviously delighted in the affect she had on him. When he got hard under her touch Tom felt a delicate firm wetness dabbing at his cock. He groaned. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know his owner was very methodically lapping away at the head of his erection.

“Mistress please !” He begged.

The licking stopped. Tom didn’t know whether to be relieved or heartbroken. Relieved he decided. Another fifteen seconds of that and he’d have cut loose a two-day load directly onto his owners face without her say-so. Then he suspected he’d be less heartbroken and a damned sight more ass broken.

“Please what dear?” Mistress asked.

“I haven’t had an orgasm in two days Mistress. If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”

She patted his shaft and giggled a little at the way it bounced around. “That would be very naughty Thomas and you know it. You don’t want to be a naughty dog for Mistress do you dear?”

Tom shook his head. “No Mistress. I want to be good for you.”

She swatted him on the thigh. “No Mistress I want to be a good little doggy for you.” Mistress corrected gently. “Answer properly.”

“No Mistress I want to be a good little doggy for you.”

“Good boy. Now hold still and don’t you dare come.”

Tom whimpered and bit his lip as he felt her mouth go back to work on him. Mistresses tongue traced long slow slines up and down his shaft. It wandered lazily around the head of his cock . He fought to control his breathing and detach himself enough from the action to keep from losing it. Then he felt the warm wetness of her mouth completely engulf him. Tom tasted blood as he bit his cheek trying to maintain his control. He screamed between his teeth a little as he felt the tip of his penis press against the back of her throat.Despite his best efforts he felt his hips move. A wash of fear rushed through him. He was so going to get his ass handed to him.

Surprisingly Mistress didn’t punish him. She just placed one hand on his leg and steadied him, giving her head a little warning shake while still sucking him. It seemed to go on for hours but Tom knew Mistress only stayed down him a dozen strokes or so. When she pulled off, she finished by kissing the head of his cock and giving it one last teasing lick.

“That was nice. Did you enjoy yourself as well puppy?”

Tom couldn’t speak. He could barely stand.

“Thomas,” Mistress said with a warning tone in her voice. “Mistress asked you a question.”

Tom nodded vigorously. “Yes Mistress.” He answered. “Your little doggy enjoyed himself very very much.”

“Good boy. Mistress has a present for you now dear. Hold nice and still.”

There was a whisper of cloth and the snick of a pair of scissors. Something went around the base of his genitals. It was long and flexible and felt about the width of his first two fingers. Tom started to get an inkling and hoped like hell he was wrong.  In some ways being the property of someone with a playful sense of humor could promise to be a lot of fun. In other ways it promised to be humiliating beyond belief.

Mistress wrapped the whatever-it-was around his parts several times. Then began tying a knot. He could feel her fingers moving against his skin. It let him draw a mental picture he hope was inaccurate. When she was done Mistress sat back and patted his once again flaccid organ.

“Smile nice and pretty for me dear.”  She said. Tom obeyed and there was a chirp as her phone took a picture.

“Open your eyes Thomas. Take a look at your present and tell me how much you like it.”

Tom opened his eyes, looked down and nearly died. O ar son feis! She’d gone and turned his gear into a bloody punchline! Just as he’d feared, Mistress had gotten her hands on some bright blue ribbon and tied it into a bow around the base of his not-so-private-anymores. She sat there smiling broadly.

“Do you like it dear?”

Tom lowered his eyes. “Yes Mistress. It’s very nice. Thank you very much for my present.” He tried to remember the last time he felt so embarrassed and drew a blank.

“You’re welcome Thomas. If it comes off for any reason before your bath my feelings will be hurt. Is that something you want?”

“No Mistress. Your little doggy only wants to make you happy.”

“And you have done a wonderful job so far. Now down on all fours. I need to use the restroom.”

Tom carried Mistress on his back to the one of the houses ground floor bathrooms. He averted his eyes while she peed. It wasn’t the first time he had been in the room with a urinating woman. Living in a house with three adults all living as husband and wife and only two bathrooms meant that sometimes you did your business with an audience. It was just the first time he had knelt at eye level with the crotch of the person doing it while they did.

Another first came as soon as Mistress finished. She lifted her skirt, opened her opened her legs and beckoned Tom to her.

“Clean me Thomas.” She said. “No.” she told him when he mistakenly reached for some paper. “Not like that. Like a good puppy .” a hand on the back of his head made it clear what she expected.

Tom froze for a second. Not long, just long enough for Mistress to catch the hint of resistance. She slapped the top of his head.

“Are we being willful?”

“No Mistress.” Tom assured her. “I’m a good puppy. I’ve just never done this before is all.”

“You will get used to it little one. You are going to do this most times that I urinate when we are home together. Now do as your told!”

Tom swallowed nervously and obey. He pressed his face to Mistresses spread vagina, lapping at the wetness and nearly soiling himself in fear of what would happen if he got sick on her. His first couple of licks were tentative, earning him another swat, gentler than the first but still enough to get the message across.

  As with most things that didn’t seem pleasant on paper the idea in Toms mind of how bad it would be to clean his owner was worse than the reality. Mistress guided him with commands. First he licked the outside of her parts, starting as far down towards the crack of her ass as he could reach. Carefuly and methodically he lapped his way  up into her bush, cleaning her pubic hair with hos mouth as well. Then down the other side, careful to get any little droplets that might have remained behind. The taste wasn’t so bad. It was slightly salty but not much more than so than when he had earned his plate earlier in the day. He realized his disgust was all in his head and decided to focus on the fact that for the second time that day he was going down on good looking woman. The fact that she had just peed was incidental. It wasn’t as if she were on her period or something truly disgusting like that.

Mistress made him clean her inside as well. He did that gladly playing his tongue in her delicious wet folds. Her legs went around his back and she leaned back against the toilet presenting her pussy for better attention than it had received when she was sitting up. She moaned a little and her hands went into his hair. Her hips rocked  as he dragged his tongue slowly across her clit again and again. If Mistress wanted a dog to clean her privates he would bloody well clean them like a dog.

To Toms considerable disappointment Mistress pushed him away before she came. She flushed, washed her hands and made Tom dry them with a towel. Then she took him by the chin as she had throughout the rest of the day.

“You did very well Thomas.” Mistress said. “Any time you are not engaged in a task you will be my little shadow. You will enter and leave the room at my heel like the devoted little dog you are. If you see me go to the restroom and I do not specifically instruct otherwise you will clean me. And you will never discuss this aspect of your service or any other detail of your intimate duties with anyone unless I give you a direct order to the contrary. Especially your wives.”

Yeah, because telling your wife all about the freaky fetish toilet sex you regularly have with another woman is the ultimate recipe for marital tranquility. Sure. “Yes Mistress. Your doggy understands his instructions. May I please ask a question though?”

When Mistress nodded Tom asked “Will I be expected to clean you after you…” he gagged a little at the idea “after you defecate as well Mistress? Or when you’re on your period?”

The look of disgust on her face was a huge relief. “Absoloutely not !” she snapped. “The very idea is repugnant! And you will not submit to any service of any kind that puts you in contact with anyone elses blood or feces either. Is that clear?”

“Yes Mistress. And thank you. I don’t know that I could avoid getting sick from that.”

“Well you are not to allow yourself to ever find out little one. Now, take me back to the livingroom. We both have things to do.”

After Tom returned Mistress to the couch and refilled her tea he finished his chores. At quarter to five he presented himself for his bath. Luckily, the ribbon hadn’t come off his cock and balls by then. That earned him a pat on the head and a ‘good doggy’ . The little internal glow that bloomed every time Mistress said or did something like that wierded him out some but he decided to roll with it. There were a lot worse things an indent could hear from their owner.

Mistress toured the house with Tom crawling along at her heel. She inspected his work in each room, praising where he had met her standards and pointing out exactly what he had done wrong where it didn’t. On those occaisions he got the belt but it was only a few licks for the entire house. Overall Mistress informed Tom that he had met her expectations but that she expected better in the future.

“You strike me as someone who is well above average at most things they decide to excel at Thomas. You are going to become the servant the other contractors in the community scold their own staff for not emulating or we will discuss why that isn’t so.”

Tom bowed his head and promised that wouldn’t be neccassary. He had already worked out that “We will discuss…” was Mistress Speak for “Your ass and thighs are going to get tenderized.”

Mistress ended the inspection in the main bathroom. She removed his plug and tail, gave him an enema-a degrading experience he never would fully get used to-  and had him kneel beside the tub until she returned.   When Mistress came back she was wearing a black one piece bathing suit and her hair was up in a bun. She was carrying a length of rope run through a carabineer. She chuckled musically at the way Toms face went from expectant to crestfallen at the sight of her outfit.

“Whats wrong dear?” she asked. “Was someone hoping for a better look at me?”

Tom looked her in the eye. Maybe it was insubordinate. He didn’t care. He hadn’t had an orgasm in two days. He had spent all day engaging in on again/off again sex play with a good looking woman including a tortuous session with her mouth on his cock and no release. He was horny damnit !

“Yes Mistress, very much so.”

She tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. “Soon enough pet. Now get in the tub. Attach this to the ring overhead and do not let go of the rope without permission.”

Being bathed was a new experience but one Tom rapidly got used to, even look forward to. Over the years that followed Mistress would make a regular habit of it. She shampooed and conditioned his hair with products he was informed had been bought specially for him.

“What you brought with you is good quality given the resources you had in your old life dear but I can afford better and I take good care of my possessions.’ She said.

Every inch of him was wash from his hairline to his the soles of his feet. Mistress talked at him as she worked. She made comments on thw quality of his housework and how good she thought he looked standing there in the tub covered in suds. She teased him a little as well. A strong, soft hand “washed” his cock and balls as Mistress watched his reactions. Tom suspected that if Mistress ever caught him washing himself quite like that there would be a discussion about the no-masturbation rule. He whimpered and shuddered as she played with him. Things got even more challenging when she decided he was dirty inside. Three fingers were covered in soap and slipped up inside him while the other hand stayed around his erection.

“Pump your hips Thomas.” He was ordered after a few strokes. “And no pretending you aren’t enjoying yourself.” She gave him a squeeze to emphasize his obvious enjoyment of being fingered.

Privately Toms mind was going in fifty directions at once. During his relatively few, brief stays as a quest of the DOC he had fought some vicious, bloody battles to keep his asshole untouched. And now here he was struggling not to drain his balls onto the chest of someone who was fingering him and had told him bluntly he would coming while used him that way. He should have been sick, enraged, terrified, actively in the process of assaulting Mistress to keep it from happening. Instead he was wishing she had returned with the strapon and harness and bent him over before his bath.  

After the bath Mistress toweled him off and brushed his hair while he knelt at her feet. The soft gentle pull of the brush-his own but Mistress said they would be buying a new one the next day.- relaxed him. He leaned back into her legs until she scolded him a little. The twins had done the same thing for him countless times over the years. It was one of those little gestures that reaffirmed their bond and one he had missed with painful intensity. Having Mistress do it gave her what Tom suspected she knew was a back door around his defenses. Her earlier declaration that she would be joining the girls in his heart promised to come true by the end of his first year at this rate.

Mistress also brushed his teeth for him, a process that he found even more invasive than the enema. His ribbon was re-tied and Mistress put his collar and tail back on. The plug she used to hold the tail was larger than the original by at least an inch in length and a half inch in width.

“I want tears when I deflower you darling,” Mistress said. “not screams.”

As an added final touch Mistress put scent on him. In his free life Tom had never been one for cologne or even deodorant. Perfume was for women. Men smelled like soap unless they were into other men. Still, that was then. Mistress held the bottle under his nose. It smelled nice; sort of spicy and cinnamony with a bite he couldn’t identify at the back end. He decided he liked it. Mistress used the stuff sparingly. One drop on her finger did the trick for the space under and just behind both sides of his lower jaw hinge. Another was dabbed on his right wrist and both wrists rubbed together. Having a final drop rubbed into his pubes was a bit odd but it was Mistresses world. He was just living in it.

There was a spot of drama when Mistress produced a hair dryer. Tom hated the things. They were loud, tangled your hair and he personally believed-granted without a shred of evidence but so what?- they caused cancer. He got scolded and took a swat to the face before submitting with poor grace to the damned noisy death-device. Mistress just shook her head. It was clear she was undergoing one of those ice-cream-headache-without-the-ice-cream moments that people who spent a lot of time with Tom tended to experience.

“You barely make a wimper when told to taste my urine but something this normal you actively resist me on. Unbelieveable.

“Sorry Mistress.” Bullshit he was. Drinking pee was one thing. A fucking hairdryer was another.

In an attempt to lighten the mood Tom piped up in his best Inigo Montoya impression “You keep using thet word. I do not think it eh-means what you eh-think it eh-means.”

Mistress just stared blankly at him, trying to figure out if he was being insubordinate or having some sort of hallucinatory drug flashback.

“The Princess Bride, Mistress?” He asked. “One of the great classics of books and film?”

A cow looking at a supercollider would have shown more comprehension in its expression than Mistress did. “The what dear?”

“Mistress honestly means to tell me that with all her money, all the movies downstairs and all the books in this house she has never seen or read The Princess Bride?”

“I have never even heard of it Thomas.”

Tom just shook his head. “Inconthieveable.”