As soon as she saw her Mistress come in the door, Kelly knew she was in deep trouble. Miranda Richardson, as the rest of the world knew her, strode in the front door of her large, elegant estate, designer heels clacking staccato on the polished marble floor. The Mistress, as Kelly only thought of her as, was a tall, fit woman of 38, dressed in a well tailored dark business suit. Her sharp, haughty face, framed by a full head of auburn hair, was twisted in a sour scowl as she spared the young woman a quick glance. 

Kelly Williams, as she still insisted on thinking of herself as, was a pretty 19 year old girl; short, curly blonde hair framing a pretty face. “Slave” as Miranda only ever referred to her by, was dressed in a maid’s outfit, of the classic lacey french style, cut very skimpily to show off the fit, young body wearing it. The outfit was augmented by a plain silver band of a collar around Kimberly’s neck, a stylized “MR” engraved on the front. 

As was required of her each day, Kelly was waiting by the door on her knees when her mistress came in. Bowing, she said in a quiet, submissive tone “Welcome home Mistress. I-” The second sentence was cut off abruptly by a gesture from Miranda. Kelly had been about to say “I hope Mistress had a good day.” But a quick glance up at the other woman’s face told Kelly that her Mistress had definitely not had a good day at all. And that was bad for her poor slave girl. The Mistress’ favorite method of stress relief after a bad day was by taking it out on her slave. 

Miranda gave Kelly only a brief glance. “Get dinner ready, slave.” and she swept on, heading for her home office, if Kelly’s instincts were correct. Rising to her feet, Kelly turned and tottered off to the kitchen on her own very high heels. She wondered what it was that had upset her Mistress today. Some business deal gone wrong? Dealing with subordinates she couldn’t strap down and whip, like she could with Kelly? Just bad traffic on her commute back home? It hardly mattered in the end. The result would be the same for the helpless slave girl…

Kelly had dinner ready on the table when her Mistress entered the dining room and sat at the head of the table. Kelly poured her Mistress a glass of wine, in the vain hope that an extra-large drink and a nice meal might be enough to put the other woman in a better mood. To her disappointment, she’d handed over the glass and hadn’t had a chance to say “Is there anything else Mistress requires?” before Miranda waved her away brusquely. 

“That is enough for now, slave. Go to the play room and prepare yourself. I shall come there after I finish eating.” 

Inside her head, the slave girl groaned in dismay, as well as a few rather rude words regarding her mistress, but thanks to her training, All Kelly could do was bow, expression studiously neutral and in a quiet voice say, “Of course Mistress.” 

As she shuffled from the dining room to what she thought of as the Dungeon, but her Mistress insisted on calling the “Playroom” Kelly silently cursed the night, a couple years ago, when she’d accepted her best friend Lily’s suggestion to go to a party hosted by some older boys. 

The party had proved to be a trap. The two teens, along with half a dozen other girls picked out from the guests, had been roofied, coming too later that evening, stripped butt naked and trussed up down in the basement with their hosts getting ready for the ‘after party’. Following a long weekend of fun for the guys, though not nearly as much fun for the girls, their captors had disposed of their playthings by selling them off to a guy they knew with connections in the white slave trade. He’d made Kelly and the rest disappear, starting a long and arduous journey for Kelly as she was broken, trained and finally sold to her mistress.  

But for that bad choice, Kelly thought, she’d have graduated High School by now, been into her second semester of college. She’d wanted to study Literature, become a teacher. Instead, she spent her days cooking and cleaning this massive mansion by herself and in the evening served as her Mistress’ ‘stress relief.’ 

The Playroom was down in the basement, behind a partition that could be slid over to hide the door from view. Kelly was kept down here whenever Mistress had guests over who weren’t initiated into the exclusive and secretive world of modern slave owners. Stepping inside, Kelly looked around at all the various devices and furniture making up her Mistress’ extensive collection, all of which the unfortunate slave girl had had the dubious pleasure of experiencing on more than one occasion. 

The Mistress had ordered her to “prepare herself.” That was vague enough to give her some wiggle room in choosing how she would be tormented tonight, but only some. Choosing something too mild would only result in her Mistress ordering her to switch, doubtless with an extra punishment for the delay in her Mistress’ stress relief. 

There! The padded bench. Kelly could secure herself lying atop it, which would at least spare her tits from punishment tonight. Mistress had whipped them earlier in the week, when Kelly broke a china plate and her girls were still tender from it. Going to the rack of punishment devices, the slave girl selected a couple crops and canes she remembered as not being too bad and placed them somewhere more prominent, in the hope the Mistress would simply grab whatever tool was nearest to hand, instead of looking for something really painful. 

Next, Kelly stripped out of her maid uniform, carefully folding and setting aside each item until she was naked, apart from her collar. To this, she added a bright red ballgag. The gags in the Mistress’ collection came in only two sizes, in Kelly’s opinion: ‘too big’ and ‘oh-god-too-big!’ She went with one of the former, straining her lips around the slick rubber plug and strapped it on tightly. 

Thus prepared, the slave girl approached the bench. It was a sturdy piece of furniture, wood painted black, with a black leather padding on top, held together with big silver rivets. It was slightly narrower at the top then the bottom and had metal cuffs joined to the four legs by short lengths of chain. Having prepared herself before, Kelly knew what to do. The young woman straddled the bench at one end, looking towards the other. Bending and twisting, she got one cuff around her left ankle, then repeated the process with the right. 

Kelly leaned forward, laying her chest on the thinly padded top. Going mainly by feel, the slave girl got a wrist cuff on and, pushing against the wood leg, ratched it tight against her skin. She then repeated the process with the other cuff, leaving her fully secured and helpless. 

After that, there was nothing left to do but wait in horrible dread. The minutes ticked by so very slowly. “I wonder if she’s forgotten I’m here?” Kelly thought, with mixed emotions. While it would spare her the punishment that was coming, Kelly would be stuck here until her Mistress remembered where she’d ordered her slave. Spending all night bent over the bench wouldn’t be much fun… especially as the Mistress would doubtless punish her in the morning for failing to prepare her Mistress’ breakfast. 

Eventually, Kelly heard the sounds of footsteps drawing closer to the playroom and finally, her Mistress came in. She’d changed out of her business clothes for something a little more appropriate for the evening’s activities: a low cut leather bustier, matching miniskirt, thigh high boots and elbow length gloves, all of smooth black leather decorated with small silver studs. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she had a narrow black choker around her neck. 

Without a word to her slave, who could only squirm feebly on the bondage bench, Miranda walked to the rack of punishment implements. Ignoring the selection Kelly had set out, the Mistress dug through them until she found a heavy wooden paddle. Kelly gulped as her Mistress carried it over, but there was nothing the slave could do now except take her punishment and begin.

Smack! Kelly jumped, as much as the chains on her limbs allowed, yelping through the thick ballgag as the paddle impacted against her ass with a loud, painful thwack! Before she could recover, Miranda brought the paddle down again. Tears welled up in Kelly’s eyes. Already, she could tell, she was in for a long and painful evening.

As she paddled her slave, Miranda muttered angrily to herself. “Damn her!” Thwack! “Thinks she’s so high and mighty talking to me like that. Me!?!” Thwack! “Ooh, if I could get her here now, just like this, I’d teach that stuck up Ms. Chen a thing or two.” Thwack!

Kelly guessed that Ms. Chen, one of her Mistress’ subordinates at work, had done something to upset her. Much as she might applaud that in general, right now, Kelly could only curse, grunting into her gag with each spank by proxy her Mistress inflicted on her. From the way it seemed, her Mistress’ ‘stress relief’ would take some time and Ke;;y would suffer every minute of it…