“A loyal maid is a happy maid.” There were few constants beyond that phrase. The smell of latex and its pressure kept him in place. Jamie remembered, from where he wasn’t sure, that vacbed latex put the weight of air against him. He didn’t realize that air could be heavy. Now, in the few lucid moments he had between recordings, the pink mouse wished it wasn’t. “A loyal maid is a happy maid.” His visor blipped. The pink swirl coated his vision with faded videos playing underneath lines of text repeating the phrase again and again. A cute fox in a fetish maid outfit appeared, working as the phrase echoed. First, they’d go over positions. How to stand, the proper way to curtsey with pinky fingers outstretched, and how to walk with heels. Then they’d clean, often raising their butt high with a shake as they polished floors or dusted around a nondescript house. Dishes, garbage, bathrooms, and more, no room was avoided from the foxy femboy. “A loyal maid is a happy maid.” So short was his skirt that Jamie saw a chastity cage hanging, dripping with pre that the fox dutifully cleaned. Sometimes with their tools, sometimes with their mouth. Videos flashed of the fox kneeling before a throbbing cock. The pink mouse’s cage buzzed as the fox worshiped the anonymous rod. A deep breath to soak in the scent, followed by suckling the hanging sack and then coating the shaft in saliva. Free hands pumped it as he took to the head, inch by inch traveling down without breaking eye contact from the camera. The gag in his mouth thrummed the deeper his foxy counterpart went. It stopped when he pulled free. Then the fox turned around, lifting his skirt to expose a pert but waiting asshole for the mysterious cock. The phallic object filling Jamie’s rear mirrored the same sensation as he watched the dick dive deep into the fox. The sensation stopped just at the edge. With no room to grind, Jamie mewled into his gag for mercy the recording did not have. Again and again, he’d see the foxy maid work and fuck, all the with same phrase playing with a soft pink swirl in the background. “A loyal maid is a happy maid.” Somewhere along this pretty hell he felt a weightless sensation, followed by a low rumble for a time he couldn’t fathom. Only the maid, the dick, the lessons, and the voice echoed to his mind. When it stopped so suddenly, he stopped. He wasn’t dead, he could think enough to realize it, but thoughts beyond repeating the phrase were difficult. Like trudging through snow during a blizzard. Then the visor was pulled off, blinding him until blinking several times to discover the light above was from a ceiling fan. Soft hands brushed his face, unclipping and pulling the rod from his maw until he coughed with sweet relief. Someone whistled. “Wow. The program must have figured you’d be a throat goat or something.” It took a moment for Jamie to adjust. The german shepherd was patient enough, crossing her arms to push out her sizable breasts bound by the blue jumpsuit she wore. Her headfur was a lighter shade of her fur color and hung loose down to her shoulder. Two different colors appeared in the smug gaze directed at him. Her right was blue. Her left was a golden yellow. “Who are you?” Jamie’s voice croaked. He didn’t realize how parched he was until speaking. From her frown, neither did she. “Shit, you’ve been in there for a bit. Makes sense, no one was there to stick an IV into you for transport. Can’t believe the place was still functional.” Sighing she filled for him a cup of water with a straw, holding it before the mouse’s face to suck. “As for who I am, well for now let’s just say I own you.” He’d do a spit take if the water wasn’t so precious. “Excuse me?” She nodded. “Believe me, it’s the better option. I can’t just let you go after what you experienced without receiving worse myself, and sending you off to higher-ups would be like the factory times ten. If you wanna keep what little sense of self you’ve got left, best to stay under me.” The mouse just stared at her as his arms and legs were freed. She couldn’t be seriously proposing slavery. “Cute, sure. I think I’ll be going now.” “No, you won’t,” She said. Despite her casual tone, his body froze as though a command had been shouted. Smiling, the dog plopped herself down against her couch. “In fact, how about you do a little twirl for me? Show off the goods.” Not willing to dignify that with a response, Jamie simply crossed his arms and threw back his head. Curious, he eyed his new setting. She lived in some sort of loft with her bedroom on the second floor accessible by a steep stepladder. Takeout bags and tin cans of soda and beer filled up her kitchen, covering what must have been a marble countertop island in garbage. Behind him stood a flatscreen TV that had layers of dust everywhere but the screen itself, while the wide windows revealed they were well above street level. Bigger than his apartment and wasted on her. She gave a smug smile when he saw her next. “Good girl.” “What?” He said, clenching his fists as they hung at his side. “Oh, you don’t like that? Weird given how pretty you look. You gotta be using some expensive shampoo and conditioner for that shine.” He used more than that but she didn’t need to know. “Look, I appreciate you getting me out of there but I’m leaving.” The hum of her air conditioner filled the room. She raised her brow while waiting for him to finish. “After you give me some clothes. I can’t walk out like this.” The maid's outfit was too skimpy for the public. Not unless he wanted to be arrested for indecency. “Ok.” She said. “Ok?” She nodded, hung her head back, and sighed. After a pause she clapped her hands, snatching an idea. “Ok. I don’t have anything in your size. So how about I go shopping for something? And while I’m out, you can clean up my place.” “Excuse me?” Jamie tilted his head. “You can’t be serious.” The canine laughed as she got up and stripped out of her jumpsuit. She didn’t even put it away, just letting it fall to the floor as she climbed up her steep steps to change into something else. “I’m not doing that!” Jamie argued. “I don’t even know your name.” “It’s Katie.” The dog that came down might as well have been a different person. A black leather skirt covered her waist to her legs and with matching heeled boots. A pink purse hung from her shoulder while her breasts were contained by a black cotton crop top with bolero sleeves. No longer the blue-collar worker, but a casual goddess whose presence clamped Jamie’s tongue down. “You can just call me Mistress.” “I…I won’t.” The defiance in his words felt akin to running a mile. “J-Just get me some clothes and we’ll forget this ever happened.” She shrugged, “Sure, sure. Cleaning supplies should be under the sink. The washer and dryer are in that cupboard next to the kitchen. I use tide pods for everything.” Consciously, he tried to ignore that. Subconsciously, Jamie jotted down every key detail as if it were as important as breathing. The knowledge clawed at his mind, gnawing with reminders when he turned away to sit down on her couch. A filthy futon with an excess of crumbs and stains he was certain were years old. “How can anyone live like this?” He asked himself. Especially someone as pretty as her. Slobs weren’t known for their hygiene or beauty products. Then again, he had a stack of bottles back home layered in his bathroom. Sure enough, she did too. As well as brushes covered in fur he meticulously picked off. Cans and bottles clanked in the bin with every new occupant tossed inside. Old pizza boxes were ripped in half, grease-stained ones going in the garbage while the rest went to recycling. The loads her washing machine could take were laughable, forcing him to have two hampers of dirty clothes waiting in a line for the rinse cycle. Finding some mild detergent from under the sink, he filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a sponge to… “The fuck?!” Jamie shouted midway through mixing his homebrewed futon cleaner. The mouse shot up, breathing in the lemon scent of fresh cleaner used to scrub down the now-cleared kitchen island. Looking at his hands he discovered suds cascading off of latex gloves he didn’t remember putting on. Not the medical mask strapped over his face to keep him from breathing everything in. The dryer beeped. He set the next load in then swore aloud in the middle of folding laundry. “It was just a mess,” Jamie said to himself. “Someone had to clean it. No one in their right mind would want to sit on that futon. Oh shit, did I clean that? I need to get the mix finished and–” He slapped himself, swore, and huffed. “What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath. The dishwasher beeped. He stared at it, letting the alarm blare every ten seconds for a minute before opening it. Steam wafted from the drying dishes, a sign they were too hot to touch. Fine, he figured, the floors needed scrubbing anyway. He swore again in surprise once the kitchen floor shined. For three hours he cleaned, stopped with a swear and a question of why he was cleaning, then returned to cleaning. By the end his body was sore and throat parched, with his feet desperate for relief from the heels locked at his ankles. Katie’s fridge was stuffed with plenty of options, including a miniature wine cooler installed in the bottom, but Jamie settled on water. It would leave less of a mess if stained and wasn’t wasteful of his mistress’s budget. Of Katie’s budget. He grimaced. “Not her budget. It’s just…rude. Yeah, rude to drink something not offered unless it’s water.” The mouse pondered aloud this and more, pacing through the apartment until his feet had enough. Rather than dirty the futon he’d spent so long cleaning, he pulled a throw pillow from her bed, of which he’d made with fresh sheets, and kneeled on it. Katie returned to him waiting for her, still kneeling for what he realized had been thirty minutes. She did not come with a bag of clothes, but a cup of bubble tea she nearly finished. “Where are the clothes?” He asked, perturbed. “What?” “The clothes,” the pink mouse repeated, “The ones you went out to buy me so I didn’t walk home in this outfit?” He motioned to the latex maid outfit over him in question. “Oh, that. Gah,” she rolled her eyes with a smile, playfully bobbing her head like it jogged the memory. “Yeah I was shopping for clothes, but then I figured I should kill time so I saw a movie. Long period piece, kind of boring but it had some spicy moments. Then I went to get tea and here I am.” “Without clothes,” Jamie asked, raising his brow in suspicion that she didn’t actually go clothes shopping for him at all. She shrugged, “Eh, it’s no problem. You look good in that maid outfit anyway. And once I get some measurements we can make some online orders for replacements.” “I don’t think you understand my issue here.” “I don’t think you understand your situation.” Katie took her spot on the now-cleaned futon, sipping her drink with a smile. Her legs were crossed with one bobbing casually in rhythm with a clock that Jamie suddenly heard despite no such thing being present. “And…and that is?” He asked, licking his lips. “Hmm…It’s hard to be sure. Why don’t you clean my boots while I think it over?” An objection existed in his mind for half a second. He considered getting shoe polish but by the way her foot swung he knew she wanted a more intimate cleaning. With haggard breaths he leaned forward, tongue lips pursed for the tip of her booted toes. The scent and taste of leather and grit hooked his senses like nicotine. Next, he knew his tongue dragged saliva across her black leather boots. Down the sole, along the sides, even up the shin. The heel spike became as sacred as a cock. She laughed softly, pumping all two inches in and out like a toy. Jamie never considered himself a shoe person. Sure a good pair of boots or a boot-worshiping scene in a porno was hot, but it was never what drew him in. Yet something felt so right about embracing her shoes, to the point that it was uncomfortable. He yanked his head back, chest heaving with each heavy breath as he marveled at the glossy sheen his saliva provided over the black boots. His cock ached inside the nubby cage, with the urethral tube brushing excessively at the dick that refused to grow despite every squeeze and clench. “Hey,” Katie said, “I didn’t say stop.” She reached for him. Jamie lurched away, slapping her hand away hard enough that it collided against her drink. Black bubbles rolled over the floor past a spill of brown tea, ruining the shine he’d spent hours working on. Somehow that almost bothered him more than the ensuing swear from the german shepherd. Almost. “Are you fucking serious?” Katie barked. By his headfur, she pulled him over her knee and flipped his skirt up. Two fingers slipped his panties down, exposing two pert cheeks that his tail refused to cover thanks to a mental block. “What kind of maid makes a mess?” Her open palm cracked down on his cheeks. Jamie shrieked, his back stiffening as fingers pulled his hair taut to keep him looking up. “If I tell you to clean, you clean. If I say kiss my boots, I expect them to shine and then some. Not some half-assed kissing job with an existential crisis.” Every sentence was punctuated by her heavy hand. Each crack of his bum echoed off the walls while the stinging pain gave way to a burning sensation. Jamie yipped and cried out but he did not beg her to stop. Each time the word formed on his lips he lost breath, as if the word vanished from his mind. Worse still was the shame that grew with each accusation. He failed her and made it worse. What kind of maid was he? He wasn’t a maid. Jamie repeated the knowledge in his mind but it felt wrong. Sickening. As if going against some natural truth. Katie let him kneel back down when she finished, crossing her arms and frowning in his presence. “Well?” She said, “What do we say when we fuck up?” The next sentence was familiar but without a source. “I am sorry, Mistress.” She smiled, drinking in his confusion. “Good girl. But apologies and a spanking aren’t going to clean up this mess.” Getting up, Katie whistled to herself as she left for a closet. She returned to shove a thick red ballgag into Jamie’s maw and pull mittens over his paws. “You’re going to need both hands for brushes now. I expect you to clean up the mess regardless. Do a good enough job, and I may let you choose something from the menu I’m ordering out from in an hour. We’ll have you cook tomorrow.” The brush did take both hands. As did the bucket of sudsy water Jamie haphazardly filled and carried over before cleaning his mess. He had to work fast before it set in. Good maids don’t leave stains. His maw tightened when he questioned why that mattered to himself, later getting a headache from clenching when he was finished. Katie didn’t seem impressed. “You missed a spot.” She spat a thick glob of saliva over the floor. Jamie cleaned it up dutifully without thought, stopping when her boot pressed his head against the floor. “Is it becoming obvious yet? Or do I need to spell this all out for you?” Jamie said nothing, staring up at her pitifully. The dog smiled despite her sigh. “I suppose I need to. You did skip the line by mistake.” She crouched down, applying just enough pressure to keep him stable without crushing him. “See, that little conveyor belt process is to make maids. Specifically, it turns slaves into maids for wealthy clients. There’s this whole category thing. Specialties, preferences, yada, yada, yada. But the video you watched, the audio that burned itself into your ears? It had plenty of subliminal messages inside to make cooking and cleaning second nature to you.” She was lying. She had to be. Jamie’s cock twitched at her cruel laugh. “Of course, the process isn’t perfect. Products need to be broken in before the machine fits them into a mold. Hence why you’re so defiant on the surface. You could have left at any time yet chose to clean my messy apartment. Not just before I told you to clean it, but because you needed to clean it. She wasn’t lying. Jamie felt it in his spine the moment she spat next to him. The rampant urge to clean was restrained by the pressure of her authority and the literal weight of her foot. “Do you get it now, bitch? Huh…” Katie paused, “I don’t even know your name.” She shrugged, “Maybe when you’re a good girl I’ll let you tell me. Now get up.” Relieved of her foot, Jamie stood up before his mistress. She twisted him around, locking his arms behind him. “Since you took too long I’m just going to have you wait in the closet until dinner arrives.” She led him to a broom closet by his red headfur, taking delight in his gagged whines. His legs refused to fight back, his body acted as a prison for his mind as literal chains looped him to hooks on the closet’s wall. “Maybe a little of this will be helpful.” Katie pulled the visor back over his face. Instantly the femmy fox maid appeared again, uttering the same mantra burned into the back of his eyelids. The gag kept his wails muffled, further silenced by the door that cloaked him in darkness. “A loyal maid is a happy maid.” *** At some point, his legs stopped burning. They still supported him, but the pain of standing with the chains faded as almost everything else save for the mantra and videos playing. The hypnosis played in a perfect loop. With no break to think, Jamie lost sense of time and meaning. He’d almost forgotten his name. It was the final coin in a vault devoid of personal information. It’d all been sealed off, locked underneath the need to serve as the pretty fox bounced down a girthy cock. He watched it as drool oozed from his gag, desires battling with the uncouth mess dripping from the cage between his legs. Then it blanked off. The fox, the audio, that big cock demanding his attention, all vanished. He blinked in the darkness, then felt the visor pulled off him. “Hungry?” Katie asked with a confident giggle. Turning he did not see the blue-collar jumpsuit nor the casually dressed german shepherd he’d grown to call mistress. She now wore a leather corset that pushed out her breasts, with a thick black choker and long black gloves that robbed any sense of intimacy when touching him. He sank into them all the same, finding comfort in their cold distant touch. “Who am I?” She asked, removing the gag. Jamie let his jaw settle first, allowing the pain to soften and finally dull while staring into her heterochromatic eyes. One blue, the other yellow. Beautiful, enchanting, and controlling. “My Mistress.” The words came as natural as breathing. She smiled at the lack of rebellion. “I suppose another day was needed. Though I might need to set it up every night for a bit. Just to keep you in check.” Looping a finger through his outfit’s collar she led the mouse back to her living room. A day standing had robbed him of strength and his stomach bellowed for sustenance, but he did not complain. A loyal maid is a happy maid. “So I made a few calls about you. Jamie is a cute name by the way. As it turns out, I shouldn’t be letting you eat any regular food until you’re properly broken in. Gives you too much entitlement and you are an entitled little bitch. Luckily, there’s a fun way to make sure you’re fed properly.” Up the stepladder to the loft’s second floor, Katie grabbed a strap-on from the bed and latched it to herself. Jamie noted a small empty bottle next to the toy but said nothing, standing straight with his arms still bound as she sat down. With a wanting smile, she curled her finger, calling him silently to his knees before the fake phallus. It was smaller than the one in the video and thinner too. A beginner cock to the dismay of those naturally that size. Unlike a regular dildo, it had an open urethra that smelled odd. Not awful, but appetizing. “Go on,” Katie directed him to her rod by his headfur, “Get sucking if you want a stomach full.” His lips suckled at the head before slowly driving down it. Her hold stayed tight while pulling him down, making sure just how far he could go without gagging. The toy he came with helped reduce that reflex to her liking as his nose touched the base. He pulled back with gusto, reaching the tip only to come back down with eagerness and ease. Katie’s grip stayed locked yet he knew it wasn’t to keep him there. She had power in her hold, power he welcomed when tasting the fake phallus on his lips. He imagined it to be real. Warm and pulsing with every inch of his tongue down the righteous shaft. “Oh, someone’s hungry,” she teased. He was. In body and in soul. Something clicked. A warm creamy substance shot down his throat. Now she held him tight. “Ah, ah, ah. Swallow it. This is your meal.” The initial shock gave way to submission. It poured directly down his throat initially. Upon slowing he pulled back to suckle more, like a thick straw he needed to pump. Whatever it was he swallowed tasted both bland and sweet, just enough to make him want more but not enough to find preference in the flavor. She brushed a white beed from his chin when he finished. “I hope you liked that, 'cause that’s how you’ll be eating from now on.” Some small part of him, a life he once knew, balked at it. Jamie bit his lips and nodded. “Yes, Mistress.” Her mask of dominance cracked under a blush. Giggling, she pulled him up and pushed the mouse face-first into the bed. Jamie felt his skirt flipped, his panties dropped, and a sudden twist on a plug he’d forgotten about. “The best thing about this stuff is that it also works as a lubricant. Though I might need to get a bigger toy for it with how loose your butt looks.” Her weight pushed the cock in easily. Jamie’s chest fluttered with his gasp, his waiting hole filled with her. Hands held his hips for support for the thrusts. They were small to start, testing the waters for his prostate and depth. “Oh, like that?” She said knowingly, leaning over his ear to whisper as her tempo hastened. “You get fucked before? Something tells me you were a buttslut.” He couldn’t remember. Everything from before yesterday was a blur. His mind melted like butter, sinking to the pleasure felt from the rapid pressure against his inner button. She yanked him back by his headfur, “Are you a buttslut, Jamie?” “Y-Yes, mistress!” He was whatever she wanted of him. Buttslut, maid, personal shoe polisher, slave, and more. The bed creaked under the weight of her thrusts, mixing with the wet slapping sounds in the air and their shared breaths. He felt his climax teetering, clawing at the top to hurdle over yet never getting there. So close. He begged for more. She laughed and gave it, still, it wasn’t enough. It died down when she pulled away. He mewled to keep going but she plugged his hole instead. “I’ll consider it later if you keep my place spotless.” She said, eyeing a red LED clock by her bedside. “Shit, I gotta get to work. I expect you to do the same.” Arms freed, Jamie crawled out of bed and languished for a moment, regaining his composure slowly as she left to shower. The first thing he did was make the bed. His mistress needed a clean bed after all. It was good that she was a slob. All the more attempts for him to earn a reward.