Free SlavesofMistressDespoiler by Bruce McLachlan Page A

and let him tend the rubber-clad contusions.
    Leaning back, wracked by derogation, he feared what other errors he had performed. Mistress Despoiler rarely made him do such things for she still kissed him, and thus she did not want his mouth soiled by such deeds. Even now he was reluctant, but the bullwhip was a superlative teacher of compliance and to have its lessons taught to his skin was an education where truancy was a far easier option.
    With this room checked, he was shown to the next like some scolded serf. Drawn down onto his knees at her side he was made to wait in silence during the review of the scene.
    The room was deemed satisfactory and the other rooms were examined and found to be in a decent enough state. The bathroom was left as it was, but then came the inspection of the toilet.
    “Slave, what is this?” she growled, indicating the underside of the bowl.
    Dragging him in with his leash, she forced his head down so he could see the underside. Several long lines of water from his diligent scouring had left marks down the white porcelain.
    “Well?” she snarled.
    “I…I’m sorry Mistress Lynn,” he uttered, repelled by the thought of cleaning this up.
    “So, what are you waiting for? Lick it up! And while you’re down there clean the entire thing again with your tongue,” she growled, the cavalier sneer supported by the hidden scaffolding of a miscreant’s smile.
    It was too much to ask, even in his current amenable haze. The thought of licking the toilet clean was repulsive, yet as she stood over him, forcing him onward, ready to punish his disobedience, the arousal of humiliation started to make his briefs feel tight once more.
    Grabbing his hair, she used it as a painful reign and shoved his face to the base of the bowl. Her other hand swept down, applying the curled length of the whip to his back. The brutal strike made him spasm and whimper. Again she repeated the blow, forcing him to extend his tongue and begin.
    “That’s it, slave,” she purred, and sat astride the base of his back, using him as a chair while he licked at the toilet. His knees were quickly aching from supporting her.
    With grim determination he worked around the underside, having difficulty in bypassing the restrictive vent of the hood.
    “That’s it, lick it like the pitiful creature you are. I should tell your Mistress about this. It’ll make her less ready to kiss you. That’s for certain. You don’t deserve her kisses anyway, slave. Not a foul toilet licking maggot like you,” she sniggered, verbally humbling him as he was forced to continue.
    Torn with the depreciating effects of such usage, he ended and then lowered with the completion of the deed.
    “All done?” she asked, rising from his back.
    “Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he answered and began to withdraw from the small room.
    “Where do you think you’re going, slave?” she snapped, and tugged him back with the leash.
    “I..well, I—”
    “Get your head in there,” she hissed, forcing him face first into the bowl. The waters touched his chin and staring into the pool of water before him, his breath echoed in the small basin.
    A brief wander from the room supplied her with new equipment. Free for the moment, he seriously considered flight because he was scared of what she might do to him.
    Fastening his hands about the U bend with cuffs, she tightly locked the shackles, his latex gloved hands suffering from the slight impediment to circulation.
    The sound of stretching PVC reached his ears along with the sound of shuffling heels. Lynn’s rear sat across the back of his head. The firm buttocks of the Mistress pinned him in, denying him any hope of getting his head out. Being forced to the rim by her weight pained his chest.
    Without a word she flushed. The cascade of water thundered about his ears and he was submerged. His trapped head stifled the drainage of the waters, causing them to settle slowly, keeping him under for longer than normal, and