A Chaste Slave To My Ex Ch 13

Like every weekday, I rise promptly, at exactly 6 am on the dot. I roll out of bed and kneel on the floor for a moment, my forehead touching the carpet, silently thanking her for another day under her rule. This is my routine, my rhythm.

I take my breakfast of bland oatmeal in plain water and I dress. By 7 a.m., I am out of the door, walking briskly to work. My job, while necessary for income, feels almost inconsequential compared to my real purpose: serving Anthea.

Each evening, as the clock struck 4 p.m., I hurry home on foot, eager to begin the second half of my day, the part that truly mattered. Once back, first thing is to strip naked, fold neatly my clothes to my closet and put on the apron. Then I have one hour of personal time before the next phase of servitude begins.

When Anthea will come home, which are most evenings and weekends now, my duties revolve entirely around her. At the sound of her keys in the door, I rush to greet her, kneeling just inside the threshold.

"Welcome your home, Lady," I say softly, my head bowed in reverence.

"Good boy," she will often say before allowing me to remove her shoes and coat.

Her needs come always first. Her pleasure is paramount, and I am trained to anticipate her desires. If she wants oral pleasure, I kneel eagerly between her legs, savoring every moment of fulfilling her needs. Each orgasm she experiences is a victory for me, a tangible reminder of my purpose.

Anthea had recently introduced a new ritual. After each of her orgasm, I am required to note the date, time, and number of orgasm in a notebook.

"You will write a full page of gratitude for my each orgasm," she had instructed. "A thank-you phrase to celebrate my pleasure."

The phrase is fixed:

"Thank you, Lady Anthea, for the privilege of worshipping you and for the honor of witnessing your divine pleasure. Your pleasure is more important than mine."

On weekends, the routine shifts slightly. I wake at 7 a.m. Saturday is the day for the thoroughly weekly cleaning, hand wash clothes, change sheets etc. and it usually takes me almost all day as there are extended duties and pampering to Anthea too.

This warm -for the season- day in October, as soon as I come back home from work I get a text message from Anthea.

"I'll be home around 8:30. Have dinner ready by then. Also, the kitchen looked sloppy yesterday. Fix it before I get there."

I put on my apron and feeling particularly exhausted begin my one-hour break, I relax for a few minutes, then as usually I am browsing approved websites under the parental controls she's installed. Today, I am reading how to cook properly her dinner.

By 5:00 p.m., it's time to clean and cook. Today's menu includes roasted chicken breast, steamed vegetables, and a side of rice, one of Anthea's favorites. I prepare and put the food in the oven, and then I clean and tidy the kitchen meticulously, double-checking every corner for spots or crumbs, knowing that any oversight will invite her displeasure.

The sound of keys turning in the lock signals her arrival. I immediately move to the entrance, lowering myself to my knees, my forehead on the floor to greet her.

"Welcome to your home, Lady. I hope your day was wonderful."

Anthea steps in, slightly smiling, wearing a pencil skirt and blouse, her pumps clicking against the floor. I kiss her pumps in passion, she hands me her bag and looks down at me with a smirk.

"It was a productive day. Did you manage to keep everything in order here?"

"Yes, Lady. Dinner is ready, and the kitchen is spotless."

"We'll see about that after dinner. Now, undress me."

I rise to my knees and carefully remove her shoes, and skirt, folding each item neatly and placing them in the designated spot. I massage her feet for a few minutes, eliciting a soft sigh of approval.

"Mm I needed it boy, you have magic hands! You're improving. Maybe you're finally understanding the importance of attention to detail."

Dinner is a quiet affair. Anthea eats at the table while I stand beside her chair, my hands clasped in front of the apron, ready to fetch water or respond to any of her whims.

She says after finishing her meal.

"The chicken was a bit dry, but it will do. Clean up, eat and then come find me in the living room. I want a foot massage before I head to bed."

I quickly clean the table and kitchen, wash the dishes, ensuring everything is spotless. I join her in the living room, where she's lounging on the sofa. I kneel by her feet and begin massaging, using techniques I have practiced to alleviate her tension.

After the massage, Anthea leans back and stretches, her voice teasing yet commanding.

"You know what I need next after a hard day. Show me how grateful you are to serve me."

I lower my head, kissing her feet before slowly moving upward as she guides me with a pointed toe. What follows is an intimate yet dominating session where I perform oral service, focusing entirely on her pleasure. Anthea is vocal, alternating between moans of satisfaction and sharp commands to adjust my pace.

"That's it, boy. Don't stop until I tell you. Remember, my pleasure is the only thing that matters."

When she reaches her climax, she lets out a satisfied sigh, brushing my head away dismissively.

"Go clean yourself up and prepare for corner time. Then come to the bedroom."

At 10:15 p.m., I stand motionless in the corner, my nose pressed against the wall, hands clasped behind my head. This is a time of reflection, a nightly ritual that Anthea has instated to keep me mindful of my duties and to humble me further.

After 15 minutes, Anthea's voice calls from the other room.

"Time's up, boy."

I hurry to go to the bedroom and spread the moisturizing lotion on her feet and legs.

"Boy you can start your gratitude pages. Go write about tonight's orgasm. Make sure to include the date, time, and a proper thank-you phrase. One page, as always."

"Yes Lady, thank you very much Lady. Good night, have many pleasant dreams."

"Night Richard, sleep well!"

I kiss her soles and crawl out of the room turning off the lights. I sit at my desk and carefully log her orgasm in my notebook:

'October 6, 9:45 p.m. Lady Anthea reached a climax due to my devoted oral service.'

Then I write the thank-you phrase repeatedly for an entire page.

Before bed, I write my daily journal, documenting every task, my thoughts, and my feelings of servitude. Amongst other I put on the journal.

'It was a worthwhile day today; I could finally be of true service to Lady Anthea. I am very grateful she allowed me the privilege to clean her house, cook for her dinner, and massage her feet. The chicken was overcooked and dried out, it was my fault. I need to know how to do it better next time. Corner time gave me a moment to reflect on what I did wrong, and I will be better tomorrow.'

This Saturday, she decides to review my gratitude notebook as well as the review of my journals.

"Bring me your notebooks, boy. Let's see how well you've been documenting my orgasms and your thoughts about your servitude this week."

I hand these to her, trembling slightly. She leafs through the pages, nodding at times while frowning at one entry.

"This one feels rushed. Did you feel this, or is that what you meant to have come across?"

"I did, Lady. I must fail to have explained it clearly. I'll rewrite it."

"You'll rewrite this page and make a note to write clear your thoughts. I don't have predictive skills to know your needs and desires if your thoughts are complicated in the journal."

"Yes, Lady. Thank you for the correction."

This Saturday night is the anniversary party of the company, a time to believe in milestones and achievements counted. I was standing with my team, some laughing, some cracking jokes at each other; all filled with camaraderie.

Anthea is late but enters with her usual grace. She is stunning, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders, that elegant blue dress catching enough light to make her focal in the room.

"Richard!" she calls out as she approaches, her smile warm and familiar.

I move toward her, introducing her to my team. "Everyone, this is Anthea, my friend."

The word "friend" hangs in the air, intentionally vague, but perfectly true.

The introductions flow but Anthea's attention quickly falls on Vasso, our newest team member.

Vasso is one of those women who commanded attention. Impossibly fit and tall, her long pale brown hair cascaded in soft waves around her angular face, her green eyes sparkling even in casual conversation. Every man in the company, including the three in my team, had made attempts to win her favor, but she maintained a distance in a politely professional way.

Anthea is smitten it would appear. "You're beautiful like an ancient Greek Goddess." she says to Vasso, her tone full of sincerity.

"Oh thank you," Vasso responds, a rare smile gracing her lips, "You have the most striking blue eyes I have ever seen."

The two women exchange compliments with an ease that is natural, and the conversation quickly takes on a life of its own. Before long, Anthea is asking Vasso about her interests, and Vasso, usually reserved, opens up in a way I haven't seen before. She speaks about her foray into modeling and her rigorous fitness routine. Anthea, in turn, shares her love for gymnastics and how it has shaped her discipline.

They seem to click; listening to most of the evening and talking as others of us mingle. By night's end, they've exchanged numbers, promising to meet up for coffee soon.

The following week, Anthea and Vasso sit in a cozy nook of a café bathed by sunlight. Anthea is early, sipping her cappuccino, her notebook open beside her, a habit from her work as a marriage counselor. Vasso arrives moments later, her casual outfit still managing to look effortlessly chic, and she orders a latte.

They slide into conversation, catching up on threads from their party talk. Vasso speaks candidly about her decision to step back from modeling. "I couldn't stand the pressure to. compromise," she says, her voice quiet but firm. "There's this expectation to play along, to. share a bed with photographers or managers. It's just not me."

Anthea nods, her eyes unyielding. "That's a hard decision, but it says so much about your principles. You've chosen integrity over convenience, and that's admirable."

Vasso smiles, a little shyly. "Thank you. It's not easy, but I couldn't look at myself in the mirror if I didn't."

The conversation meanders through light topics, but something serious has begun to form: a bond of mutual respect, an inborn understanding of each other's values.

Over the next couple of weeks, their coffee dates become regular, lengthening into talks that spin everything from career aspirations to personal struggles. Vasso, in time, begins to open up about her past. One afternoon, with the rain pattering softly against the café windows, she tells him the story of her broken engagement.

"I was with him for years," she says, clutching her mug. "I thought he was my everything. But he cheated. And it wasn't just the betrayal; he was juvenile and so unreliable. I knew I couldn't build a life on one person whom I knew I couldn't trust.

The rest of Anthea goes out to the younger of the two women as she listens intently. "That must have hurt you a great deal."

"It was. And some days, it still is. But I couldn't stay. I knew I deserved better." Vasso says, a sadness in her voice but also firmness.

Anthea leans across the table, her hand resting delicately on Vasso's. "You absolutely do, and walking away from that kind of hurt takes strength. You're stronger than you think."

Vasso's eyes gleam her gratitude evident. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Anthea says with finality.

During one of these sessions, Anthea broaches the subject of work. "So, what is your impression of the job? And Richard as a manager?"

Vasso chuckles and leans back in her chair. "The job is. alright. It's hard work and the pay isn't fantastic. And, well, the flirting? It's relentless."

Anthea furrows her brow. "Flirting?

"Oh, yes," Vasso says, rolling her eyes. "Every other male colleague seems to think it's their mission to win me over. It's exhausting. I'm polite, but they don't seem to take the hint."

"And Richard? How's he treating you?"

Vasso gives a small smile. "He's professional. Clever, hard-working, experienced. Kind, actually. He doesn't talk down to me or make me feel uncomfortable. But. I don't know. It's hard to feel valued when the environment is like this. I've even thought about leaving."

Anthea frowns, taking in consideration Vasso's words. "What if there was a way of bettering your position? Something that gave you more independence and better pay?"

Vasso tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her green eyes. "Like what?"

"Like becoming Richard's secretary," Anthea say matter-of-factly. "You'd have better working conditions, more pay, and you'd be working directly with someone who respects you."

Vasso hesitates, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't. I'm the youngest on the team. People would talk. And besides, Richard hasn't had enough time to assess me."

Anthea smiles warmly, very sure of herself. "Leave that to me. All I need is your agreement.

Vasso bites her lip, her mind clearly turning over the possibilities. Finally, she nods. "Alright. If you think it's possible, I'll trust you."

Next evening Anthea is casually sipping coffee, her posture relaxed on the couch, while I kneel on the floor nearby, awaiting her instructions.

She suddenly says calmly, with a smile.

"Boy, I've been thinking. Vasso should be appointed as your secretary and assistant at work. She has all the qualities necessary for the role and excellent organization skills. Frankly, she's wasted where she is now. It's the right move."

I am hesitant as I answer looking down. "Lady, I... I have my doubts about that. Vasso's only been with the company for three weeks. She's young, inexperienced, and..."

Anthea puts her finger in her lips, making me stop talking and keep silent at once.

"Your objections are ridiculous. Inexperience? Ha-ha! Everyone starts somewhere, doesn't she deserve the same chance you once had?"

"Yes, yes of course Lady..." I pause nervously for a moment, "...to be honest, she seems a bit lazy sometimes."

"Lazy? Watch your words boy! Are you judging my friend and a superior woman?"

"My... my apologies Lady Anthea.. I didn't..." I stammer anxiously for crossing the line here. Then I say worried, "I'm not sure the rest of the team will accept her in such a position so quickly."

Anthea puts down her cup, her smile fading slightly. "And why would that matter, boy? You're concerned about what people might think or are you doubting my judgment?"

I answer quickly, shaking my head. "No, no, Lady, I'm not doubting you! I just think..."

Anthea interrupts me with firm voice.

"Stop. You think you know better than me what's good for you? I cannot believe you're questioning my judgment. Do you think you're better at reading people than I am?"

"Of course not Lady, that thought never crossed my mind."

"Let me remind you, I've spent weeks talking to Vasso, learning about her skills, her discipline, and her values. She's perfect for the position, and she'll make your work life far more organized. I see potential in her that clearly you're blind to. She's proud and dignified, qualities you sorely lack at times."

Her words cut but it is the truth. "Lady, people might gossip, thinking I'm doing her a favor because she's, well, stunning."

"Gossips? Well, tell your team they don't even dare to mention her beauty like it's some fault. That's just your problem, focus on her talents, not her looks."

She rolls a cigarette and puts it in her lips, I instantly light the cigarette, and she blows smoke to my direction.

"This isn't up for debate, boy. Don't mistake this for a suggestion. It's an order."

"Yes Lady, I understand..."

Anthea smiles broadly. "Good! Announce it to your team. Trust me, Vasso will keep you in line, ensure you stay organized, and frankly, she won't tolerate any sloppiness."

"I will comply, Lady. I'll make the arrangements." I say lowering my head in respect.

Anthea sits back, her tone softening but still authoritative.

"Good. It's about time you learn to trust my judgment completely. After all, I know what's best for you, both at home and at work."

"Thank you very much for the guidance and your judgment, Lady."

She smiles. "You should feel honored, I'm shaping your life in ways you could never manage on your own. Vasso will be good for you, and for your team. End of discussion."

Immediately I bow down my head and in gratitude plaint loudly kisses to her feet.

"I am very grateful, honored and lucky to have you in my life, Lady."

I draft the paperwork to appoint Vasso as my assistant-secretary, feeling a mix of apprehension and submission. The thought of working closely with Vasso, her stuningly beauty while navigating the perceptions of my team, leaves me uneasy.

Next day I gather my team to make the announcement.

"Good morning, everyone. I have an important update. As of next week, Vasso will join me as my secretary and assistant. Her role will include scheduling, handling administrative tasks, and assisting with project coordination. I trust everyone will welcome her in this new capacity."

There are gossips between the members of my team that reach my ears and focus on the belief that I hired Vasso as my secretary because of her beauty and not her abilities in order to sexually exploit her hiring. the most typical saying is that 'Vasso has the right... qualified for the job. Beauty, tight ass and perky tits.'

In the evening at home, I kneel and confide in Anthea about the team's reaction, hoping she might reconsider or at least sympathize. Instead, she doubles down.

"LOL, are you seriously surprised? Of course, there's gossip, people will always be jealous of talent and beauty. If they're unhappy, it's because they see someone else rising while they're stuck in mediocrity."

"Yes Lady but I am afraid of disturbing the harmony in the team and the results will affect our productivity and success."

"Boy, your problem is you care too much about what others think. Do you know what that makes you? Weak. You don't owe them an explanation for my decision."

"Thank you very much for the wise advice and putting my worries at ease, Lady."

"Trust me, this is for the best. Vasso will shine in this role, and those complainers will either shut up or show their true colors. Don't disappoint me by doubting this again." Anthea moves her finger at my direction as she lectures me.

"I'm sorry Lady, I just get confused sometimes."

"Richard I know you very well. That is not confusion but your ego that still appears at times. Forget about your thoughts, about what you think you need. Your job is simple, just obey. Instantly without questions, surrender yourself to me and you will find bliss and happiness."

"Thank you Lady, I am yours to rule and control."

She smiles and pats my head. "Good boy! Now to dig deeper in my words, by tomorrow, you will write a 500 words essay titled "Why Trusting Anthea is the Key to My Success."

"Yes Lady Anthea, thank you my Lady." I immediately agreed with her demand.

Anthea's rapport with Vasso only deepened after the promotion, the two of them becoming close friends. And as I watch from the sidelines, I can't help but feel grateful for Anthea's insight and guidance, and for the quiet strength that connected them both.

It was the beginning of a new chapter for all of us.

After about a week, I come home as usual, expecting Anthea to be at work. To my surprise, she is lounging on the couch, dressed casually in an oversized shirt, her feet bare and her hair loose.