A Uniform of Mistress's Making

Part One: Tempus fugit

The trickling of the kitchen faucet woke him from his unintended nap. Fuckfuckfuckfuck his internal monologue screamed in tempo with the dripping as he fairly vaulted from the couch, confused about what time it was. His brain was still fuzzy, but even in his disorientation, he remembered Mistress's watch around his left wrist. The screen blazed to life with a turn of his wrist, and he saw not only were there no pending notifications from Mistress, but that it was only 11:40pm.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief, knowing he hadn't missed any messages from Mistress nor her expected arrival time of "sometime after midnight", as she had cryptically told him earlier, following her Friday night out with friends.

The collection of modern lights affixed next to the front door cast a faint yellow light across the living room and entranceway, and he hurriedly moved into action to finish his evening preparations for Mistress, as well as to have everything ready for tomorrow. Mistress used her Saturday mornings to relax and recharge alone in her room, and expected all to be ready for that weekly decompression time she so relished.

He went directly to the bathroom first - stopping to adjust the kitchen faucet, of course - taking the cleaning supplies from beneath the sink and pulling on the bright pink cleaning gloves Mistress was generous enough to supply. Not for his benefit only, but to protect the hands that served her and keep his skin appropriately soft for when he was permitted to touch her in any way. He smiled as he gave the porcelain a final wipe and polished the chrome fixtures to remove any water spots. He took great pride in every task he was given by Mistress; he knew that his efforts not only pleased her, but made her days easier in immeasurable ways.

The tidying was finished in only a few minutes, since daily cleaning was always completed promptly with a smile (and an extra butt waggle if it so amused Mistress) and he moved onto arranging her "lotions and potions" as she called them for her nightly skin routine. It was not overly complicated: cotton squares in a small glass jar and makeup remover, a tiny orange pot of her favourite eye cream and night moisturizer directly next to it. All was arranged meticulously on a small alabaster shell tray that sat next to the sink.

He was humming tunelessly under his breath now, glancing fondly at his watch as he turned off the bathroom light. The watch had been given to him the day he officially became Hers. The day Mistress had told him to strip naked for her in the living room and put on his "uniform" that lay on the chair behind him; only the watch had awaited him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting at that moment... a bowtie? skimpy underwear? His confusion had surely been clear on his face, because she laughed when he looked back at her luxuriating on the couch.

"What do you say, pet?" she asked, with a delicately arched eyebrow, a playful sparkle in her eye.

"Th-thank you, Mistress?"

"Is that a question? Or a statement?" the sparkle faded twenty percent, warningly.

"A statement, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress..." he took a deep breath, but held his tongue before he spoke further.

"You may speak plainly, pet. Quickly now, I have other instructions to get to today."

"This is an Android watch, Mistress." his eyes were downcast in embarrassment at the possibility of derailing her schedule.

She nodded, indicating he should continue.

"I have an iPhone, Mistress," he mumbled, still avoiding her gaze as he felt so awkward pointing this out. She knew what phone he had, having inspected his phone at their first meeting to ensure her Google Calendar was already synced to his device, as per her instructions.

"I have chosen the watch that pleases me, sub. And I expect that it will be used to its full extent, so that you can continue to please me and be used to your full extent," her voice was steady and low, a thread of he most often heard. "Look at me now, sub."

He raised his face, warm with unease, but still drawn to the stern tone of the formidable Domme who had claimed him and the mild annoyance in the way she pronounced him 'sub' at this moment.

"I expect that is understood," she stated, her eyes focused on his with steely purpose.

He nodded his assertion, perhaps a touch too enthusiastically in an attempt to distract from his clear excitement at her authoritative tone. Of course, she could see that eagerness from her seated position on the couch, not a stitch of clothing available to disguise the sycophantic agreement from his bobbing cock.

He had traded in his phone for the same Samsung device as Mistress for her convenience the next day.

He was smiling now, again, remembering that first day so many months ago. But he was also aware that time was wasting to get her bedroom things ready. There was a serving tray already half-prepared (from before his ill-advised nap) for her nightstand in the kitchen. Mistress's tablet was loaded with both her to-do focuses for tomorrow as sent to him earlier that day, and her menu for dinner pending her Saturday morning approval. A full carafe of cold water was added in short order to its accompanying glass and a beautiful white candle that smelled of fresh-hewn birch. Grasping the metal handles on either side of the tray, he walked slowly to Mistress's room.

The tray was gently set down on Mistress's nightstand, next to a small vase of flowers and her current book and omnipresent notepad. The bedclothes were pulled back thoughtfully, and at the most deliberate of angles. Now for his favourite part of this bedtime protocol. Best for last, Mistress had murmured in a deliciously intimate tone the first time she had walked him through this routine.

Mistress's lingerie was in the topmost drawer, full of beautiful and luxurious fabrics of all types. Silks, lace, jersey, and even the most simple cotton all were special to him, because they pleased Mistress so. At the very front of the drawer was the newest piece, which he knew would be perfect after Mistress's night out. It was simple, soft, and her favourite colour: black.

He carefully lifted the romper, noticing the subtle touch of lace at the neckline and the sides of the short shorts of the garment. He hadn't yet fully seen the piece, as Mistress had bought it on a lunchtime shopping trip, and put it away earlier tonight as he washed dishes. He always admired Mistress's simplistic and specific taste, and the soft jersey cotton in his hands seemed to be in line with this, though really how much could he see of a black piece of clothing in the low light seeping through the open bedroom door?

It was at the moment that he began to delicately lay the lingerie on the end of the bed, ready to be skimmed up Mistress's sublime legs before she drifted to sleep, that two things happened: a light-coloured piece of fabric slid from the unfolded romper and the turn of a key in the front door lock.

"Shhiii... " he actually pressed his teeth into his tongue to stop the expletive from fully escaping his mouth. Mistress hated swearing when there was no good reason for it; she found it a lazy way to express oneself. He turned his wrist quickly, and the screen flashed 12:01am. Well, it was technically after midnight now. And his butt wasn't in the correct place.

He knew she wouldn't be pleased, but he knelt next to Mistress's bed nevertheless, taking small solace in the fact that at least her nightly preparations were complete as she desired. He anticipated her annoyance, but also knew he would relish any correction she was gracious enough to give.

He bowed his head as her high-heeled steps stalked towards the bedroom, Mistress's shadow drifting seductively closer in the faint light.