Pathways to Submission: Sally
Copyright© 2023 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 27: Morning Routine
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 27: Morning Routine - Sally is a young woman looking for a new job. A chance meeting on a crowded bus introduces her to Penelope, a professional dominatrix. Penelope needs an assistant, and although Sally is naturally submissive and not ideal what Penelope wants, she asks Sally to call her. Sally is soon in Penelope's thrall.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Interracial Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Illustrated
I wake before the alarm, as I always do nowadays. At this time of year, the first light of dawn would be peaking through the curtains were it a fine day ... which it isn’t. I can hear the rain beating against the window of my bedroom. I slip out from under the duvet and head for the bathroom.
I pad naked across the room, the wooden floor is bitterly cold under my bare feet. My maid uniform hangs on the hook outside the bathroom door. The vinyl maid’s outfit isn’t the warmest of clothing on a cold winter’s morning, but Mistress Penelope insists that I wear it. Her only concession to the season is to replace my white vinyl gloves with a similar pair that extend to my elbows.
I quickly use the shower and complete my ablutions before dressing. I pull it on piece by piece: the glossy red vinyl dress with puffed short sleeves trimmed in crisp white narrow ruffles; the white vinyl apron; black fishnet stockings; finishing with the red collar and white gloves. I tie my hair back, smooth the apron, and take a deep breath.
My first task in the morning is to turn on the heating. The apartment block has a decades old centralised boiler and heating system that is infrequently maintained by the building owner. It works, but it has a habit of making random noises through the water pipes and radiators that can disturb your sleep at night. Consequently, Mistress Penelope has me turn off the radiators before retiring to bed. We sacrifice warmth in favour of a peaceful night’s sleep.
Mistress Penelope normally gets out of bed once the radiators have had a chance to warm the apartment. The kitchen smells faintly of last night’s herbal tea. I switch on the lights and begin preparing breakfast. I’ve done this numerous times so my movements have become automatic. I like the consistent routine as it calms me. I prefer knowing exactly what Mistress Penelope expects of me.
I eat my own breakfast while I prepare Mistress Penelope’s cereal. I catch my reflection in the microwave door. The sexy maid’s uniform fits me perfectly. At first I used to feel like I was playing dress‑up, only pretending to be someone who belonged in Mistress Penelope’s world of dominance and submission. Now the uniform feels like a part of me. A role I’ve grown into within Mistress Penelope’s world.
I hear Mistress Penelope’s footsteps before she appears. She enters the kitchen wearing her robe, her hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Morning, Sally,” she murmurs, voice low.
“Good morning, Mistress,” I say automatically, and her lips curve in a faint smile.
She sits at the raised counter while I serve her breakfast. She watches me closely as though looking to find fault. I’ve learned not to let it make me nervous. When I set the bowl in front of her, she inspects it with the same scrutiny she gives her clients’ posture during a session in her private dungeon.
“This cereal isn’t the usual brand,” she says. “There’s more fruit in it. I like it.”
A small warmth blooms in my chest. Praise from Mistress Penelope is rare and precious.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I say. “The store had sold out of the usual brand.”
I don’t add that this brand is more expensive, so I will need to make economies elsewhere to keep within my allocated food budget.
She nods, already eating. I stand nearby, ready to fetch anything else that she needs. It’s a quiet, familiar ritual. And even though it keeps me tethered to her schedule, I feel a strange comfort in it. Like I’m part of something structured and purposeful.
When she finishes, she hands me the empty bowl without looking up. “We should leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I wash the dishes quickly, before changing into my leather harness and outer clothes ready to travel to the ‘workshop’ across town.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.