In The Niche — a slave girl’s extreme daily routine
The statuary niche was curved inside, arched at the top, ready to receive a static image in the round of a standing figure.
Some previous resident, of whose work they were the beneficiaries, had added it to a corner of the dining area in the great room.
She went to the niche to begin her day. The coffee she’d drunk was having its effect, giving her some of the strength she needed to get through her ordeal — the ordeal that was coming up, her ordinary day.
The surveillance video would record everything. Mike had spent the extra money to get the highest level of resolution. She would get away with nothing.
She stepped onto the base of the niche, a half inch above the floor of the room. As always, it made her feel very exposed and displayed.
She trembled slightly as she placed her hands at her sides and straightened her back. Head up, as he had told her. Shoulders down, as if joined by a straight line across her back.
The movement made her breasts jiggle slightly. She hated the tender sensation it brought to her nipples. Her last orgasm was already days in the past.
It was going to be a long day. With nothing but the slightly curved surface of the niche to look at with its slightly off-white color. And no motion on pain of severe punishment.
It would be forty-five minutes before the recording that began this time every day gave her permission for her first rest break — on her knees on the mat behind the niche.
Putting it in place was her first duty of the day. It was a full inch thick and provided a comfortable pad to kneel on. She’d have to step back on it with perfect deportment and no loss of her perfect posture.
It would be fifteen minutes before she was allowed to take her hands off her thighs and place them behind her head.
Then, more perfect posture. Her elbows had to be kept back. Tracing a perfect straight line behind her head. Her head had to be kept up.
No flinching, no absence of perfection. The punishments were always ready, but mostly the sense she had disappointed him.
After another fifteen minutes her hands would go onto her ass. The instructions in Mike’s voice were always explicit, clear, coming at fifteen-minute intervals.
After her long rest, she would go back into the niche. Always with perfect posture getting up and her hands still on her ass. Her legs had to be kept apart for another fifteen minutes. Next it was forty-five minutes at full attention. Only then would she get a bathroom break.
Mike was working. He would review the surveillance video later, skimming through it to check for any imperfections.
If he found any, he would discuss them with her. That was the worst part.
She always felt so ashamed, knowing she should’ve tried harder.
She was disappointed she couldn’t be a better disciplined girl.
It was not as if Mike wasn’t taking the trouble to keep her in line. But she was too lazy to be the perfectly disciplined girl he wanted her to be. That she owed it to him to be.
Or maybe it was her scattershot upbringing as a child that had never really given her the self-control of an adult. She was like a child trapped in a woman’s body, too undisciplined to be obedient.
Mike had organized her undisciplined life and the price she was paying seemed well worth paying for that, though it was something vanilla people would find hard to understand. She was grateful to him, even though she was suffering. She just didn’t have the discipline to be what he wanted her to be, but at least his careful surveillance was compensating for her lack of willpower.
When the morning ended she’d have other exercises. Especially the dreaded squats on the balls of her feet. Still no sitting down, still no remission in her perfect posture.
And she would not be allowed to unstraighten her back as she made the little lunch she was allowed to eat.
When she was allowed to use the toilet.
And right up to the time she was allowed to lie down in bed for her afternoon nap.
That would have been easier if she hadn’t had to strap her legs apart to the bedposts and shackle her hands over her head with the time locks Mike liked to use on her. She quickly got too horny to fall asleep. At most she’d doze a bit as she tried not to squirm like the whore she’d have to confess being if he quizzed her about it later.
It was the same even when he was away on business. Her routine never varied. It was the same one day after another, day in and day out.
Only when her nap time ended would she be allowed some activity, to clean the room of the day in their weekly cycle.
It had to be done meticulously, obsessively. It was so boring cleaning the same corner again and again until there was no bit of dust or hint of grime detectable on the floor. Until every wrinkle on the bed sheets was perfectly flattened out. Until every item of clothing had been perfectly hung or folded in the closets. Until Mike could find nothing wrong to reproach her housekeeping with.
Or even just to keep doing as makework because there wasn’t anything else to do since the room was already perfectly clean and straightened out.
God help her if she couldn’t find a way to defeat the hard water ring in the toilets.
All carried out naked, of course, except once in a while when she had to use some household chemicals that needed to be kept off her skin. Those moments too were scheduled.
Only at the end of the afternoon would she spend her regulation forty-five minutes on the treadmill. She’d then have another forty-five minutes to get cleaned up and ready for Mike’s appearance.
But that didn’t mean he’d show up soon. She’d still have to fix his dinner, with a gag in her mouth to prevent her from eating anything, and serve it to him in the carefully prepared dining area with his immaculately folded napkin and perfectly positioned dinnerware. With the chair he used flawlessly positioned in place, overlooking the niche. She was expected to be positioned in the niche at 6:45 PM exactly.
Mike would then saunter in and take in the view of the standing girl as he enjoyed his dinner. She wasn’t allowed to speak.
Only when she’d finished washing up and restoring the kitchen to perfect order would she be allowed to eat her next portion of slave gruel, standing up in the kitchen while she ate, spooning it into her mouth and trying not to eat too fast. She was so hungry.
The next step was to position herself over the punishment and penetration bench Mike had built in their equipment room. This is where she was fucked and punished.
To save Mike trouble, she had to strap herself in and click the locks that would hold her in place. Usually he came in and fucked her. Sometimes he just left her there until he was ready to go to sleep. She never knew which it would be.
Tonight her pussy was throbbing especially badly.
She heard Mike enter the room and step behind her.
“I’ve been reviewing the surveillance video” he said. They were the first words he had spoken to her all day. “You committed too many faults. I don’t know why you’re so lazy. I’m trying to make you act like a disciplined girl, but you just don’t seem to get it.
“Will you disappoint me every day like this? We both know you would if I didn’t keep you in line.”
She heard him step over to the wall. There on a wooden Shaker-style strip hung Mike’s favorite tools of punishment. She wondered which one he would choose.
She found out when she felt the long shoehorn come crashing across her ass, sending her thoughts out of her body with its polished wood. She hoped it would be the only tool he would use apart from the one between his legs. But she didn’t always get that lucky.
Only Mike knew how badly bruised a butt she would display in the niche the next morning.
Or perhaps even he didn’t, as he gave himself up to passion and whaled the ass of the punished girl.