The Maids Took Me as Their Slave

I knew nothing. I had no idea that my father had lost his rights over the manor, that Baroness Adriana had orchestrated everything with the meticulous patience of someone who had spent years waiting for the exact right moment. To me, that mansion was still the same oppressive, boring place where my days went by without consequence, and my only form of asserting myself was to pester those two old maids whose presence repulsed me so much. I slept, unaware of anything, wrapped in fine linen sheets, completely oblivious to what was being prepared on the other side of the door.

I was sleeping on my stomach when I sensed them. I didn’t hear them: something changed in the air, a different density that brushed my senses without quite waking me. The two maids—Catalina and Esperanza—had taken their shoes off before entering. They moved forward in black stockings over the carpet, their heavy bodies advancing with a stealth I would not have expected from women their age. They had a key. They had gotten it who knows when, and they had turned it in the lock with a metallic click that wasn’t enough to pull me out of sleep.

From the pocket of each apron, they took out long rubber gloves, up to the elbow. They were work gloves, darkened by use, with that brown, greasy film that objects get when they have been touching dirt for years. The kind used for scrubbing floors or emptying buckets. They began pulling them on in silence. The rubber squeaked as it stretched, a damp, taut sound that spread through the room. Maybe that squeal reached some corner of my dream. Maybe it didn’t. My body didn’t react in time.

***

Two masses fell on top of me from opposite sides before I could fully open my eyes. The impact was crushing. It knocked the air out of me, my face buried in the pillow and my arms trapped beneath the weight of their bodies. A gloved hand seized my wrists and twisted them behind my back with brutal force. The metal of the handcuffs snapped shut with two quick, final clicks.

I tried to scream. I didn’t make it in time.

One of them leaned over my head. Confused and dazed, I saw Catalina lift the skirt of the uniform and pull down her panties from beneath the stockings without hurrying. They were old panties, thick cotton, once white and now yellowed at the crotch, with a dark, wet stain in the center that betrayed how long they had been stuck to her cunt. She brought them to my nose first, rubbing them against my face and forcing me to smell them. The stench was thick and sour, old sweat mixed with discharge, with old piss, with something animal that turned my stomach. She laughed when she saw me gag.

—It smells good, what you’ve been despising all these years —she said to me.

The gloved fingers pinched my nose to force my mouth open. When I did, she shoved the soaked fabric to the back, pressing it down with two fingers between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, jamming it against my molars. The taste was a physical blow: bitter, sharp, salty, with that viscous density of an unwashed cunt that sticks to your throat and won’t leave. I felt the wetness of her dried juices dissolving in my saliva, entering me. Before I could spit it out, a roll of adhesive tape went around my head several times, tightening, sealing off any possible sound.

They tied my ankles with rough rope. They fastened a metal collar around my neck and secured it to the headboard with a padlock. In less than three minutes I was completely immobilized on my own bed: wrists cuffed, ankles tied, neck anchored, mouth sealed with the taste of Catalina’s cunt flooding every breath. I couldn’t move a centimeter in any direction.

The laughter began when they finished securing me.

It was a ragged, deep laughter, loaded with a satisfaction they made no effort to hide.

—Poor idiot —Catalina said, with a delight that showed in every syllable—. You never saw it coming. Now you’re going to pay for everything you’ve done to us.

—You’re going to learn to obey us —Esperanza added with a calm that was more threatening than shouting—. Without arguing and without delay. And you’re going to learn to suck everything we put in your mouth without complaining.

I struggled. I pulled at the cuffs until the metal bit into my skin, tried to separate my ankles against the rope, lifted my head as far as the collar allowed. It was utterly useless. Every movement was a reminder of my helplessness, and they watched it with their arms crossed, completely unmoved.

***

From the bag they had brought, they took out two wooden rods, long and thin as reeds. They flexed them in the air with a motion that revealed experience. Catalina gripped my hair with her gloved fingers and yanked upward, forcing me to raise my face as far as the collar allowed.

—From today on, you do what we tell you —she said—. Whatever it is, whenever it is.

The first blow landed without warning on my naked ass, because they had yanked off my pajama pants. The rod crossed my flesh with a dry crack and a pain that arched my entire back. The cry died in the gag, turning into a muffled moan no one heard. The second rod fell an instant later, in the exact same place. The pain multiplied.

They did not stop.

They came down in a steady, unhurried rhythm, alternating, as if they had practiced together for years. The pain began to change: it stopped being sharp and turned into something deeper and more persistent, an agony building layer upon layer without giving me time to recover. Between blows, one of Esperanza’s gloved hands slipped between my thighs and grabbed my balls with a firmness that made me howl into the gag. She squeezed them slowly, measuring my threshold, stripping away every gram of dignity I had left.

—Look what we have here —she said with a dry laugh—. A pair of little balls that are going to finally be useful for once in their lives.

She let go only to return to the rod. I was crying without being able to stop myself. The tears mixed with the horrible taste of the cunt-gag soaked through with spit, and all of it together formed a humiliation that emptied me out more than the physical pain.

Their laughter continued between the blows. It wasn’t cruelty for its own sake: it was genuine, calculated enjoyment, the pleasure of someone who has waited a long time for something and can finally take it without consequences.

—Learning? —Esperanza asked between blows, while she slid two gloved fingers between my scorched buttocks and probed my ass with a persistence that chilled my blood—. This here belongs to us now too. Everything you have is ours. Every hole.

They continued for what felt like an hour or more. When they finally stopped, my body was a map of pain, the marks on my skin burning like embers, and I had no strength left to try anything. They stood up, turned off the light, and left without releasing any of the restraints. They left me there, in total darkness, with Catalina’s cunt taste in my throat and the sound of their footsteps fading down the hall.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t.

***

At dawn they came back. They entered with the same key and untied me with a cold efficiency that left no room for hope. On the bed they threw a maid’s uniform: a black dress with a white apron, black stockings, a stiff cap, and heels that looked designed to hurt.

—Put it on —Catalina ordered.

I didn’t answer. I put on the uniform. The black fabric clung to my ruined ass, and every brush of it was a reminder of the night before. They didn’t give me any underwear. Under the dress I was naked, my arsehole exposed to the air and my cock hanging there without any protection at all.

—From today on you belong to us —Esperanza said, looking me up and down—. You’ll clean, scrub, do everything you’re told. And you’ll do it right the first time.

They made me kneel on the kitchen floor with a brush and a bucket of dirty water. My knees on the cold marble. The two of them watched me from the table, sitting down, drinking coffee from porcelain cups, talking among themselves as if I weren’t there. When they found a corner that hadn’t been cleaned properly or a spot I’d missed, the rod appeared without warning. Each correction was a blow to already punished skin, in the same places, with the same methodical precision as the night before.

I cried in silence while I scrubbed. There was no room for anything else.

By midmorning, Esperanza stood up, came up behind me, and stepped on one of my hands with the heel of her shoe. The heel’s spike sank between my knuckles until it made me moan.

—Stop scrubbing and come here —she said.

She sat in the kitchen chair, spread her legs beneath the black skirt, and yanked my hair until my face was level with her thighs.

—Yesterday you tasted Catalina’s cunt. It’s only fair that today you taste mine. Get underneath.

She made me crawl under the table, to put my head between her open legs. The smell of Esperanza’s cunt was different: stronger, more rank, with that heaviness of an older woman who doesn’t wash much. She wasn’t wearing panties. She slammed my face against her crotch with both gloved hands.

—Lick. And if you stop before I tell you, the rod is going to hurt you more than last night.

I stuck out my tongue. I started licking her wrinkled cunt, the thick, drooping lips, the hard clit jutting out from between the gray hairs. She forced me to bury my tongue deep, to swallow her sour juices, to circle her clit until my jaw began to ache. Catalina came over to watch, coffee cup in hand, laughing softly.

—The little master does it well. Look how he’s drooling.

Esperanza came with a grip on my hair, smashing my face against her cunt until I couldn’t breathe. I felt the contractions of her thighs around my head, the warm, viscous stream dissolving against my mouth, the slow trembling of her belly. When she finished, she shoved me away and tossed me the dishcloth.

—Wipe your face and keep going with the floor.

At noon they ordered me to bend over the back of a chair with my hands on the seat. I lifted the uniform without needing to be told twice. The rods came down again, and this time they stuffed the same damp rag I had used to scrub the floor into my mouth. It smelled of cheap soap and kitchen filth.

—That’s how those who don’t know how to show respect learn —murmured Catalina, and between blows she shoved two gloved fingers into my ass, without lubrication, forcing the dry entry, stretching me open by force. The rubber scraped, it bit. I howled inside the gag while she worked her fingers with a technique that made it clear that this was not new to her either—. You need to learn to open up there. You’re going to need it tonight.

I promised to obey in everything. I had no other possible choice.

***

That same afternoon Baroness Adriana arrived.

She was a woman of about fifty, wrapped in a long dark fur coat, with fitted black leather gloves reaching her wrists. She entered the room where Catalina and Esperanza had me kneeling, studied me for a moment with the expression of someone inspecting something newly acquired, and nodded in satisfaction.

—Good —she said.

She took a document from her bag and spread it out before me. Several dense pages, with tightly packed paragraphs I did not read. She pointed to the signature line with a leather-covered finger.

—Sign.

I signed.

The baroness put the document away, came closer, and stroked my cheek with the back of her glove. The gesture had something condescending and almost affectionate about it that was more humiliating than any blow.

—That’s how I like it —she said—. You’re going to stay here. You’ll do everything these two ladies order you to do, and everything I need whenever I need it. Your only function is to sign papers and obey without question.

She paused briefly, deliberately.

—And if you ever even think about disobeying in the slightest...

The slap came open-handed, with the full surface of the leather glove against my cheek. Dry. Then another, on the other side, equally precise. The pain was different from the rods: more immediate, more personal, more meant to humiliate than to punish.

The two maids laughed.

—You will receive lashes every day —the baroness continued with perfect calm— until not a single inch of your skin is left unmarked. Is that clear?

—Yes —I replied.

She opened her coat with calculated slowness. Underneath she wore nothing but a black leather corset that cinched her waist, gartered stockings, and leather panties of the same glossy material that barely covered a shaved cunt. She grabbed my hair and brought my face to her crotch.

—Kiss it.

I kissed the warm leather. It smelled of the baroness’s skin beneath it, of expensive perfume, and of clean cunt, very different from the maids’. She parted the panties to one side with two gloved fingers and presented her clit to me.

—And this too. With respect. Like a dog grateful for being fed.

I kissed her clit. I ran my tongue over it with the reverence she demanded, moving in slow circles while she held my head with her gloves. The baroness didn’t moan once. She simply closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and used me as if I were a bath toy until she felt what she wanted to feel. Then she yanked me away and closed her coat again with the same slowness with which she had opened it, without another word.

She extended her foot. High-heeled boots, black, with the leather gleaming in the afternoon light.

I bowed my head and licked the sole without needing to be told twice. My tongue scraped against the dirty leather, against the remnants of the street, against the metallic taste of worn soles. The baroness waited a moment before pulling her foot away sharply.

—That’s not enough —she told Catalina without looking at me—. Continue the punishments. I want him to understand exactly where he is and who’s in charge here.

***

I protested. It was the last mistake I made that day.

Esperanza took the rope from the pocket of her apron before I’d even finished speaking. Catalina seized my arms from behind. In less than a minute I was tied to the chair, my ankles secured to the legs, unable to move.

I started begging out loud.

Esperanza stopped, looked at me with a calm, amused expression, and lifted the skirt of the uniform. This time she didn’t take off her panties: she turned around, pulled them down to her knees, and shoved her naked ass in my face.

—He likes our things very much —she told Catalina—. So he’s going to kiss my little asshole before we seal his mouth. Let’s see if he learns his place.

I smelled sweat and old shit clinging to the fat cheeks. She forced me to bury my nose between the fleshy buttocks, to stick out my tongue and run it over the puckered, wrinkled hole. I did it because there was nothing else to do, and I heard them both laughing at my gagging.

When they were satisfied, the gag went back in place—this time with Esperanza’s panties, soaked on the back. The taste, again, even worse. The rods, again. This time at an even slower rhythm, almost ceremonial, while I could do nothing but cry tied to that chair, wearing the maid’s uniform on my body and carrying the certainty that it would not end until they decided to stop.

When they stopped, there was nothing left in me that could resist. No will, no pride, not even enough energy to keep crying.

***

That night I did not sleep in the room where my life had unfolded. They took me to the basement: walls with peeling paint, damp cold that crept into the bones, and a smell of confinement suggesting years of neglect. They chained me to the wall with thick chains and a padlock at the ankles, with the collar fixed to a rusted iron ring that didn’t give a millimeter. I couldn’t fully sit down or stretch out.

—This is your place from now on —Catalina said before closing the door—. Here you’ll stay when we don’t need you upstairs.

The key turned. The darkness was complete.

I heard their footsteps receding up the wooden stairs until silence swallowed them. Then only the sound of my own chains whenever I moved.

At some point in the early hours, chained to the damp wall, with pain throbbing in every part of my body, I began to understand that everything that had happened had been planned long in advance. The key, the handcuffs, the rods, the uniform, the baroness’s documents: nothing was improvised. It was a plan carried out with precision by people who had been waiting for the right moment. I had been the only one who didn’t know, and that ignorance, I understood then, had been a fundamental part of the plan.

***

Upstairs, in their rooms, the two maids retired with the quiet satisfaction of people who have completed a task that had been pending for too long. Catalina took a long time to fall asleep. She mentally replayed every moment of the night with an attention that was not purely professional. She ran her gloved hand over her thigh beneath the sheets, slipped two fingers into her wet cunt, and came slowly thinking about the little master licking Esperanza’s asshole, about the forced open mouth receiving soaked panties. She told herself that from that week on there would be something better than rods for those long winter nights.

Esperanza, by contrast, wasn’t thinking about the past. She opened the nightstand drawer and took out the harness she had kept hidden for years, waiting for the right moment and the right person. She held it up to the mirror for a moment, adjusting it to her waist with the leather buckle. The rubber phallus was large and black, thick as a woman’s wrist, with marked veins and a broad, blunt tip that promised work. She strapped it on, felt the fake cock as if it were hers, and smiled at her reflection.

She went down to the basement that same night. She didn’t even wait a day. The lock gave way and the door opened onto me without warning. In her hand she carried a lit candle and a bottle of oil. She approached without saying a word, loosened the chains at my ankles just enough to spread my legs, and forced me to bend against the wall, my ass open toward her.

—I’ve spent twenty years watching you walk past without greeting me —she said in a very low voice, pouring oil into her gloved palm—. Twenty years hearing you talk to us like we were furniture. Tonight I’m going to fuck you for every one of those years.

She put her fingers in first, without ceremony, three at a time, pushing the oil into me, forcing my ass open. I clenched my teeth, the gag still in my mouth, swallowing the howls. When she decided it was enough, it wasn’t: she pressed the tip of the black phallus against my hole and pushed in all at once, all the way to the base, with a brutality that made me see lights behind my eyelids. I felt something break inside me, my ass opening to a limit I hadn’t known I had. The pain was unlike anything else: internal, deep, humiliating on a new level.

Esperanza started fucking me with slow, long thrusts, drawing the phallus almost all the way out before driving it back in to the hilt. With every push, her fat hips struck against my buttocks, already destroyed by the rod, and the pain of the welts mixed with the pressure of the phallus inside. She grabbed my hips with both gloved hands and began to speed up. I was crying against the damp basement wall, with my mouth sealed, with my cock hanging hard without my wanting it—my body betraying me, responding to the motion with an erection that humiliated me more than anything else.

—Look at that —she laughed behind me, reaching out to grab my cock—. The little lord likes having his ass broken. Who would’ve thought.

She stroked me while she kept fucking me, with firm, practiced fingers, not letting me come, squeezing the base every time she felt I was about to. She kept me like that for a long time, impaled on her phallus, her hand working my cock, alternating the rhythm, enjoying my desperation. The rubber cock tore through me with each thrust, and she panted harder and harder, the older woman’s hips moving against me with the force of someone who was coming too, rubbing her clit against the harness base.

When she came—with a long, muffled growl, driving the phallus all the way in and staying there, squeezing—she let go of my cock and let me come at last. My seed shot out in streams against the basement wall, a brutal orgasm that shook my whole body while I remained impaled, while I kept crying, while I understood in that same instant that they would use that too against me, that this pleasure ripped out by force was one more piece of the cage they were building around me.

Esperanza yanked the phallus out. I felt the cold air enter the open hole, the sensation of emptiness and tearing. She stood up without saying anything, wiped the harness clean with a rag, and paused a moment to look at me, chained and panting, with the gag soaked through and semen dripping down the wall.

—From tonight on, I’ll come down whenever I feel like it —she said—. Without warning. Without a schedule. Every time I remember something you did or said once, I’ll come down and collect for it. You’ll never know when. That’s part of the punishment too.

She went back upstairs without saying another word, leaving me chained in the darkness, with the taste of panties still in my mouth, my ass destroyed, and the final certainty that from that night on my body was no longer mine.

What came after that first night deserves to be told separately.