Mistress Wife Forbids Watching Television
Harriet invited two Mistress Wives to supper. Only the women. Their men stayed home.
Supper was late. Oswald, Harriet’s servant husband missed the meal’s deadline.
Her friends said nothing. Smart Dommes they knew even the best trained husbands occasionally fail. Perfect servitude exceeds the ability of any man.
Fearing they thought her an inadequate Mistress, Harriet felt shame. Oswald’s tardiness reflected badly on her ability as the head of a female-led marriage.
She feigned serenity. No one suspected her rage. Oswald feared harsh words. His Mistress Wife merely smiled.
Until her friends left. Opening a closet, she removed a black whip.
Oswald was piling dishes into the sink. Before he finished, Harriet grabbed his hair and pulled him into an almost empty spare room. Informally known as the Punishment Room.
She slapped the side of her husband’s head with the handle.
“I’ve never been so embarrassed. How dare you be late?”
He started to speak. She shoved the whip handle into his mouth.
“I’ll talk. You listen.”
Two quick lashes follow. The heavy leather whip’s touch was like a burn.
“You were watching television, weren’t you?”
He hesitated.
“Don’t lie. I’ll beat you to death if you lie.”
He nodded. He had watched TV.
“You lost track of the time?”
Another nod.
“I’ve warned you.”
Her lash cut his skin, finally he wept.
“I should get rid of you. Throw you out of my house.”
“Please, Mistress.”
“Please what?”
“Please forgive me. I’ll never do it again.”
“I’m sure of that. Your television privileges are revoked. Your TV will go to the thrift store.
“You won’t sit at my side watching movies in the evening.”
He treasured those evenings. Nothing made him happier.
“You will read. I have a few old servants’ manuals. You will memorize them.”
She went to a shelf, selected a fat book from the nineteenth century.
“You will scrub the bathroom every day. And lick the toilet bowl clean.”
She grabbed an earlobe and yanked.
“When dinner dishes are clean, you go in a cage.”
Boredom punishment. Whipping would be kinder.
“Your monthly release from chastity is cancelled for a year.”
He felt tension in his groin. Long denial would twist it in knots.
“You feel sorry for yourself, don’t you?”
He looked at the floor.
“I don’t want to do this. But you have let me down. Been just a man. Not the servant I trained. I will miss evenings with you. But you must be taught or I will replace you.”
Losing Mistress Wife would be the worst outcome.
“I give you the option to leave. But you can never come back.”
He bowed, touched his forehead to the floor in total submission to Mistress Wife’s will.
The post Male Servant’s Failure: Supper was Late appeared first on Femdomous.
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