Workday

He came into her home office carrying a cup of coffee. “Good morning,” he said, slipping one across to her.
She looked up, amusement in her voice. “Oh? Is it a good morning? I think you forgot something.”
Heat rose in his cheeks, it was their first time like this and he'd already slipped. He’d come in distracted, watching her in the blue blouse, the pencil skirt, the way she moved in heels.
“Good morning, Mistress,” he corrected, softer this time.
“That’s much better.” She smiled and reached up to cup his cheek. “Such a good boy. Because you remembered, I’ll only make this five, but forget again and we’ll double it. Do you understand?”
He nodded, pride and relief mixing in his expression. She gestured; he obeyed. He unzipped his pants to show the small blue cage he wore beneath, matching her blouse. “I wanted to match you,” he admitted.
“Perfect.” She ran her thumb over it. “Doesn’t that feel nice? To show me how well behaved you are. Did you bring your book?”
He held it up. She closed her laptop, rose, and moved to the couch. He settled at her feet and opened the book. She told him she might have to join a call and needed him quiet; he settled into the position she’d assigned, obedient and still.
She typed for a while, pausing now and then to test him, a fingernail along his throat, the tip of her heel pressing lightly into his thigh. He didn’t flinch. Twice she had him fetch water for both of them, watching the way he moved as a small, private test of his attention.
When the work was done she clicked her laptop shut. “You’ve been very good today,” she said, voice even, pleased. “Quiet, attentive, and helpful. Now for the five. Tell me five things that are good about you. You have three minutes.”
He swallowed, surprised by the task. Panic fluttered for a second, then steadied into resolve. “I’m smart. I’m kind. I’m a good friend. I listen well. I think creatively.”
She leaned forward and smiled, satisfied. “That’s my good boy, all of them true.” Her hand rested briefly against his cheek, warm and approving.

She stood up from the couch, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she moved towards him. He remained seated, his heart pounding in his chest, anticipation and nervousness warring within him. She circled him like a predator, her fingers tracing lightly over his shoulders, down his arms, and finally resting on his chest.

"Stand up," she ordered, her voice firm. He complied, rising to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. She stepped closer, her breath warm on his face as she leaned in.

"Take off your shirt," she whispered, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He quickly obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. She stepped back, her eyes roaming over his bare torso, taking in every detail.

"Turn around," she commanded. He turned slowly, giving her a full view of his back. She reached out, her nails lightly scratching down his spine, sending shivers down his body. He could feel his breath hitching, his body responding to her touch.
"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Mistress."