For the remainder of the afternoon I clean the entire upstairs. After that I make dinner: broiled fish filets, baked potatoes and coleslaw, this last fortunately already prepared – I know little more about cooking than I do housecleaning.
Mistress eats at the table while I’m instructed to kneel in the corner and set my plate on the floor. Cleaning the kitchen afterward takes me nearly an hour: obviously Mistress hasn’t lifted a finger in here in anticipation of my visit. I’m about to start on the living room when my beguilingly smiling owner forestalls me.
“That’s enough, Brianna. You can finish the housework tomorrow. Let’s see if my budding young lesbian is any good in bed.”
She takes me by the hand, still carrying that whip in the other. My heart finally soaring after so much misery
