I’d been hoping for a “good girl” comment, but it looked like I would have to earn it with more than conciliatory words.

Looking down at my list, I saw that in addition to my usual wash dishes, fold laundry, and vacuum/mop floors, you’d added a few notes and tasks. The first was an asterisk after “vacuum/mop floors” and it read: *wine stain on kitchen floor; use scrub brush to remove it, on your hands and knees.

A shiver of titillation ran through me. I’d spilled the wine a few nights before and hadn’t noticed until it left a stain. At the time, you told me I didn’t have to scrub out the stain right away, but you had bent me over your lap and spanked me so hard that it hurt to sit down the next day.

The other items you’d added were “dust with feather duster” and “TBD, depending on your conduct for escorts”

As a tantalizing shiver ran down my spine, I resolved to be on my best behavior, and hoped that my natural clumsiness wouldn’t get me into too much trouble.

I went to tuck my list into a pocket, only to remember that being without clothes meant no pockets to speak of. I hastily folded and secured the list inside one of my bra straps, scurrying off to the kitchen to start working on my chores.

The first item on the list was Wash Dishes, so I turned on some of my favorite music and started rinsing off plates, glasses, and silverware from the night before. In the midst of my scrubbing, singing, and shimmying, you stepped up behind me and started kissing my neck.

Reflexively, my dishwashing came to a halt, and I leaned back into your touch. Your kisses ceased just as abruptly.

“Did I tell you to stop?” you asked, with just a hint of danger in your voice.

“No, you didn’t,” I answered. “Sorry, boss.”

I quickly returned to the task at hand, doing my best to focus on dishes while your mouth explored my neck and shoulders… your hands running over my breasts, down the sides of my waist, and back to squeeze my ass.

“Keep up the good work,” you smiled, giving me a little nip on my collarbone before heading off to do your own housework.

You had plenty of things on your list to attend to on cleaning day, just like I did. The primary difference, of course, being that you took care of your domestic responsibilities fully clothed. Whereas I – more often than not – found myself in various states of undress while fulfilling my duties.

When I was almost done with the dishes, I got a little overzealous rinsing a pot and accidentally sloshed water all over my lower abdomen. I yelped in surprise, watching as streaks of color seeped off of the word GIRL, and felt the warm water running down between my legs.

I turned to see you entering the kitchen, where you took one look at me and smirked, shaking your head.

“I… I’m sorry,” I blurted.

You tsked, crossing to me and turning off the water.

“Dry yourself off,” you instructed. “And since you’ve made a mess of it, you can skip ahead to cleaning the kitchen floor.”

I looked down and saw that a not insignificant amount of water had spilled at my feet, though I hadn’t noticed. I’d been so distracted by messing up your brand on me, and the wet warmth between my legs…

“Yes, boss,” I said, trying my best to speak clearly and with humility. You easily could’ve punished me for making an extra mess, but it seemed you were in a generous mood, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciated it.

Reaching for a paper towel, I gently dabbed at my abdomen, wanting to dry off as I was told without doing further harm to the words you’d marked me with. Then I reached between my legs, an inadvertent whimper escaping my lips as I patted the area dry… or at least as dry as possible, considering how lustful and turned on I was.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter, watching me with a bemused look on your face.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, as though you didn’t know very well what prompted my frustration. But I shook my head, taking it like a good girl.

“No, boss,” I said, and finished drying off as quickly as I could, with no more whining.

“Good,” you replied. “Now sweep up in here and I’ll get your scrubbing supplies.”

Following orders, I fetched the broom and dustpan, making quick work of the small kitchen area. I was almost finished by the time you returned with a large sponge and a bucket full of soapy water.

You watched as I dutifully bent at the waist to sweep the small pile of crumbs and dirt into a dustpan, then dumped it all into the trash. Then you gestured to the bucket and sponge that you’d set on the floor near the sink.

“Hands and knees,” you said, and I complied at once, dropping to all fours.

With the supplies across the room, I had to crawl to reach them. As soon as I did, I felt you tug my panties down to the middle of my thighs, and three sharp smacks across my backside. One on each ass cheek, and one between my legs.

“That’s for being sloppy, my naughty, dirty girl,” you scolded. “You can clean the floor with your panties down as penance.”

I bit back another whimper and managed to stammer out, “Y-yes, boss…” before you left the room. Then I dutifully took up the sponge and dipped it in the soapy water, scrubbing back and forth the way you’d taught me, being sure to really put my elbows into it.

With my mostly-naked body so utterly on display, my ass and breasts jiggling as I pumped up and down… ripples of aching, hungry desire coursed through me.

In these moments, I belonged to you on a higher plane. I was always yours, every day, no matter what sort of play we did or did not engage in. But each time I succumbed to your will, allowing you to enjoy and instruct me as it pleased you, I felt linked to you… connected in the most intimate way possible. Your will became my will; our desires and actions became one.

Plus, scrubbing the floor for you with my panties halfway down my thighs was sexy as fuck.