Bent Bathed and Beautiful

I should've known the moment I signed that stupid little contract what was coming. Miss didn't say much when she handed it to me--just that wicked grin and the words: "From now on, I'm the boss of your pretty little butt."

I thought she was teasing. I really did.

That was before the moment she marched me into the bedroom and told me to undress. Her voice wasn't loud, just firm--calm in that terrifying way women get when they already know they've won.

"Over my lap. Now."

I hesitated.

She raised an eyebrow.

I was over her knee in five seconds flat.

The first slap made my whole body jolt. The second warmed my cheeks with shame. By the tenth, I was squirming and moaning and whispering promises I had no power to keep.

"Oh, you're going to cry," she whispered, dragging her nails across the red skin of my thighs. "And then I'm going to make you clean and pretty."

She kept her word.

The bath was warm. Almost too warm. Her hands were everywhere--soapy, slow, not missing a single crevice. She scrubbed between my legs like I was some helpless doll, and I couldn't help the way my breath hitched. I was hard. Ashamed. Helpless.

Then came the razor.

She lathered me in scented foam and shaved every inch of hair from my chest, my legs, my arms, my... everything. By the time she was done, I felt smooth and light and exposed--like a secret unwrapped.

"Now," she said, holding up a lacy pair of pale pink panties, "Let's get you dressed properly."

She didn't wait for permission. She didn't need it.

The panties were soft--obscenely soft. Satin with a little bow on the front, like a secret only she and I would know. She held them open and tapped her foot.

"Step in."

I did. Of course I did.

She pulled them up slow, letting the fabric slide against my skin like a whisper, like a promise. My breath caught when they cupped me--tight, snug, feminine.

Next came the bra.

Lacy. White. Lightly padded. She slid the straps up my arms, clipped the back, and adjusted it with expert fingers.

"You'd get used to the feeling," she said, tugging the band. "Eventually you wouldn't feel dressed without it."

Then she rolled up the pantyhose--one leg at a time--her thumbs gliding over my calves as she guided the nylon up. The tightness. The whisper of fabric against bare skin. The tug as it settled into place. It was like being sealed in something forbidden.

She chose a black skirt next. Pleated. High-waisted. The kind that flared when you walked and showed just a little too much when you sat wrong.

She slid it up my legs, zipped it in back, and then gave the waistband a playful snap.

"There. Now you look like someone who knows her place."

And in theory--I did.

She stepped back, arms folded, eyes running up and down my trembling form like she was inspecting a display piece.

"God," she laughed softly, "look at you."

I tried not to. But the full-length mirror was right there, and she wasn't going to let me avoid it.

"Go on. Take a good look," she said. "This is you now. Hairless. Helpless. Wrapped in panties and nylon and pretending it's just some little game."

She walked in slow circles around me like a predator, her voice cruel and calm. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look? A grown man, letting himself be bathed and shaved like a doll... just to end up dressed like some pathetic office secretary who forgot her dignity at home."

I flushed hard. The humiliation burned--sharp, electrifying.

She reached under the skirt and gave the waistband of my panties a snap.

"You're dripping," she said, mockingly sweet. "That's adorable. Getting turned on by your own shame. Does that mean you like being laughed at?"

I didn't answer.

Smack.

A crisp slap to my thigh, just above the hem of the skirt.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes," I muttered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Miss."

She grinned.

"Good girl."

She held up her phone.

"Smile."

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"Oh relax. Just a little memory. No face--just your cute little ass in that pretty skirt. Unless..." she tilted her head, "you'd rather I include your face?"

I shook my head quickly.

She snapped the photo anyway. "There. Now I've got proof of who you really are. My soft, submissive little thing. All dressed up and nowhere to hide."

She tucked the phone away, then leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear.

"You should be grateful. Most people don't get to live their truth. But you? You get to live it, kneel in it, ache in it."

She took a step back and tapped the floor with her toe.

"Knees. Now."

I dropped to my knees as commanded, the skirt riding up, panties pulling tight, and shame blooming hotter than ever in my chest.

Miss turned toward the door.

"You can come in now."

My heart froze.

The door creaked open, and in walked her--Lena. One of Miss's closest friends. Beautiful. Confident. The kind of woman who could strip you bare with a single glance.

"Oh. My. God," Lena said, grinning like she'd just been handed the juiciest secret of the decade. "You weren't kidding."

Miss placed a hand on my head like I was her pet. "Told you he'd break easy. Look at him--he's already wet through those little panties."

Lena walked around me, circling slowly. "Aw, he's blushing. That's precious."

"I just gave her a little bath," Miss said, "a close shave, some proper clothes... and now it's time to train her right."

Miss reached into a drawer and pulled out a slim, pink silicone plug--cute and terrifying all at once. "This is for good girls," she said, holding it up. "Wanna show Lena how much of a good girl you are?"

I hesitated. Lena raised an eyebrow.

Miss didn't wait. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the bed. "Bend over."

I did.

Panties were yanked down. Cold lube, a warm hand spreading me, and then the toy--slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore. My breath caught as it slipped in. My cheeks burned hotter than the spanking.

Lena chuckled. "She even wiggles when she takes it. That's adorable. What else you got for her?"

Miss tossed her a tiny remote.

"Wireless. Vibrating. Long-lasting. Want to do the honors?"

Lena clicked a button.

The toy buzzed to life deep inside me. I gasped, buckled, moaned--and they laughed.

Miss crouched beside me and whispered, "This is what happens when you hand over your body. When you agree to be mine. I share my toys."

Lena leaned in from the other side. "And I play with them."

The buzzing pulsed harder.

I was dripping through the nylon now. Panties soaked. Knees trembling.

And they weren't done yet.

Miss reached into the pouch again. This time, it was a harness--sleek, black leather with a thick, blunt shaft already strapped in.

Lena's eyebrows lifted. "Already?"

Miss smiled darkly. "She's ready. You want to break a toy in, you do it while it's still shaking."

And then the harness came toward me.

Miss fastened the harness with slow, practiced hands, tightening each strap with a kind of quiet glee that sent shivers down my spine. The thick shaft bobbed forward, heavy and unyielding, casting its shadow across my trembling thighs.

Lena whistled low. "Damn, Miss. She's gonna feel that one."

Miss didn't respond. She was focused. Hungry.

She climbed onto the bed behind me, nudging my legs apart with her knees, positioning me exactly how she wanted: face down, back arched, ass up--plug still humming inside.

She leaned down, her lips brushing my ear.

"You've been teased. Vibrated. Paraded." Her voice dripped with authority. "Now you get used. Like a toy should be."

I whimpered. I didn't even know I could make that sound.

She slid the plug out slowly, almost tenderly. My body clenched from the absence--but not for long.

The tip of the harness found its place.

And then she pushed.

Slow at first. Letting my body fight it. Letting me feel every inch stretch, every ounce of control vanish. I gasped into the sheets, fingers curling tight.

"Oh yes," Lena purred, circling us like a proud aunt at a recital. "She's taking it so well."

Miss moved deeper, hips grinding, pushing me into the mattress. Her hands locked onto my waist like handles. She wasn't just thrusting--she was claiming.

"Good girls take what they're given," she growled.

My thoughts shattered.

The vibrator buzzed again--Lena flicking it up to max.

I choked on a moan, overwhelmed.

Miss grabbed my hair and pulled my head back just enough to speak into my ear.

"You want to cum?"

"Yes, Miss," I gasped, barely able to form words.

"Beg."

"Please," I cried. "Please, let me--let me cum. Please, I'll be good, I swear--please."

She didn't answer.

She thrust harder.

The world collapsed into rhythm, vibration, shame, and surrender.

And then--

"Now."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command.

And I obeyed.

I screamed into the pillow, my whole body convulsing, every nerve set alight--sobbing, panting, shaking.

Miss held me there, slowly grinding until I stilled. Then she pulled out, patting my ass like she'd just finished rearranging the furniture.

Lena handed her a towel with a wicked grin.

"She's gonna need a minute."

Miss turned to me. "Oh, we're not done."

She dangled something small and metal in front of my face.

A chastity cage.

"For later."

Miss wiped me down with clinical efficiency, her touch no longer teasing, just businesslike--as if cleaning off a toy before handing it over to the next user. I was still trembling, panting, barely holding together. That didn't stop Lena from crouching beside the bed with a playful smile and a predator's gaze.

"My turn," she said...