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WEEK 4 - PLAYING THE PART
Second knob from the right to turn on stove, heat at 5 o'clock. Frying pan on the low pantry on the left. Pancake dough on the fridge's second to last door-self. Hold the cup horizontally over the pan for exactly 2 seconds.
As she counts the seconds to flip the delicious treat at the right time, Eve feels the heat from the pan on her exposed small breasts and her nipples, always semi-hard from their nakedness. They have become more sensitive to touch and temperature, a result of the torment they often have to deal with. She places the first pancake on a plate and repeats the process, trying not to think of how delicious it must be and how she missed the taste of something, anything.
Even her liquid meals were shot straight down her esophagus, through the invading phallus than rested inside her throat. She had stopped gagging from it some time ago, but she never stopped feeling it stretch her neck's tissue from the inside. She had never fellate a man in her life, it always seemed too dirty, maybe even gross. Coincidentally, she had never had anything stuck up her bum either, but had been quickly familiarized with the buttplug attached on her steel belt.
Eve didn't like thinking about her appearance. She was just starting to accept her outfit, revealing more than she'd ever reveal to a strange man, of her own will. Jack had brought home three more wigs, a purple with long bangs, a long-haired brown and a dark with green highlights, adding to seven in total. He instructed Eve to put on a specific wig each day, something that, while tediously difficult for the blind girl, made her keep track of each passing week.
Not that Eve had much time to think about things. Her mind was constantly busy, not with any new outside stimuli, but with all kinds of information, ranging from everyday objects' position in the house, to precise instructions and mind-numbing details regarding tedious tasks like the one she was doing at the moment. It had all started driving Eve mad. It clogged her mind and made any other thoughts of her own very difficult. But it was necessary. The task at hand could mean her punishment, every one of them could cause her torture, if she failed at it.
Flashes of past memories disturb the maid's breakfast ritual. She tries to push them away and concentrate, quickly raising the cup, so as to not spill too much pancake dough. Last time she put too much and he wasn't happy. "I told you, i like my pancakes thin".
"Master likes his pancakes thin". If there ever was a chance she'd ignore that information, her red buttocks, still sore from the punishment she had received yesterday, made it tough to forget. "Master likes his pancakes thin", she repeated to herself. He had removed her skirt and the steel belt that was locked on her, and sat on the leather couch.
He ordered her to position herself facing down, with her belly on his lap. She was scared, but had no other choice but to obey. She felt his hands on her neck and the small of her back, reminding her of her powerlessness. stroke her cheeks with force. She jerked her head up from the jolting pain, but felt his hand holding her down by her pink wig. "Don't move", he warned. There wasn't an actual threat from his lips, but she thought of quite a few on her own. Another smack, and then another, each one painting her ass pinker than her short, plastic hair. It took all her willpower not to move after each harder and harder slap on her bare ass. "Master likes his pancakes thin."
From the moment he'd let her out of her "storage" - hopefully having spend the night without any hungry clamps for company - Eve's entire day was dedicated to serving Jack. Starting from his breakfast, then, after Jack's departure for work, scrubing the floors and cleaning.
Jack had found a cruel trick to make sure his maid didn't miss a single spot, without having to check the surveilance camera's video footage. Before leaving, he'd sprinkle a bit of ultra thin gold dust, on a surface of the house. It could be anywhere from the side of the toilet bowl, or the top of a night table, to a tiny space at the corner of the living room floor. But Eve could not find it by touch. So, he knew that, if he found the dust untouched, on his return home, a punishment for his young maid was due.
At about noon, she'd do his laundry. Feeling each piece of dirty clothing in her hands, to not mess the right washer setting. Then, ironing. She had quite a few small burns on her fingers from the hot iron, but she was getting better at it each day. She had to be very careful not to leave any wrinkles on any item of clothing, so she always traced their surface meticulously, as a single wrinkle could lead to punishment.
She could now move throught the place with more elegance each day, a trait that Jack demanded of her. Minor offences like an dusty square inch or a wrinkle on a shirt were punished with casual punishments like leaving her urethral plug on or clamping her nipples for the rest of the day. Eve was great at her duties, but even the slightest mistake was crucial for her.
In the afternoon, after everything in the house was clean and presentable, Eve would have to cook a delicacy for her Master. Jack was very strict about having a maid who could satisfy his eclectic, gastronomic tastes. A promising chef at a famous restaurant would do the trick. Cooking always seemed easy for Eve. Since she was a little girl, she always had a gift for making things taste great.
Now, it was very difficult. Too difficult for anyone who couldn't see, or taste, or smell. It lacked the joy that it used to give her, creating something delicious for people she cared about, was the greatest feeling for Eve. She hated cooking for him, for "Master". She wanted to cook the hell itself and serve it on his plate, not those beautiful treats she offered her loved ones. But she had to be good at it, for her own sake. The pain was too much, and she wanted to avoid it at all costs. Master wasn't satisfied with mediocre results.
After Jack would return home, he'd feed his servant and let her empty her bladder (if he was happy with her) and bathe herself. He sometimes threatened to not feed her, but it wasn't the best approach, as a hungry maid, was a weak maid, who couldn't serve him properly.
Generally, when she wasn't occupied, Eve would be assuming her mandatory position, standing straight with her hands on her appron. Jack knew it was hard for the girl to keep standing up the whole day without rest (except during the floor scrubing), but he wanted to keep the pressure on her, so that she would break faster. Plus, he enjoyed seeing her legs tremble with fatigue, trying to keep her posture and not collapse.
It's not like Eve hadn't fought. She had her share of short, defying bursts and refusing to obey, but it quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to work for her. She was a brave spirit, but after some time, she had started accepting, even though she couldn't bring herself to use that word, that this was a lost fight to begin with.
While alone, she had tried breaking the balcony door with a pot, only to scratch its special thick surface. She had tried banging on every soundproof wall in the house, in hopes that someone next door would listen.
But after each failed attempt at escaping, the ordeal that followed was much harsher than the usual, casual punishments she'd receive. The clamps that would keep her company throughout the night were attached to wires that ended in a little box, that send waves of electricity, alternating from painful to excruciating for the duration of her stay. Eve couldn't fathom such pain existed, and it always gave her new appreciation for having an actual sleep inside that closet, when next day she had to do all her chores, completely exhausted and aching.
Her last independent act was actually attacking Jack with a kitchen knife while he was having dinner. By some luck, Jack had gotten away with only a scratch on his arm. Eve never forgot that day. After that, Jack installed an audio-triggered locking password for the front door, making it clear to Eve that if she ever killed him, her lost voice would leave her no choice but to die painfully of starvation. Additionaly, he instructed her to be in his line of sight at all times, a command he was particularly strict about. He wasn't going to die from a stupid maid, after all.
WEEK 7: BECOMING THE PART
Eve was, for the most part, adjusted to her new life, at least as her behavior showed. No more escape attempts and knives being hurled towards Jack. But that was only the halfway point of his plan. Sure, you can capture a tiger, keep it a cage for all its life, make it do a few tricks for food. But that didn't mean much to Jack. He would make his tiger need him, be grateful for him. He would make the tiger his pet, not his prisoner.
Jack took advantage of the free afternoons he was home, to talk to Eve. She remembered the first time she heard him talk to her, not just order her. "I can imagine you're upset at your situation, doll", she heard, through the mic clipped on his shirt. "But you know very well that there are no chances of returning to your old life".
Eve listened, never breaking her posture or even flinching, she wasn't instructed she could do either. "The way i see it, accepting your new role would be the only way you could live a happy life, otherwise you'll just be bitter and sad throughout the rest of it". His voice was deep, but calm. It had an interesting complexion, but definitely did not remind her of anyone she'd ever met, no matter how many times she'd squeezed her brain to remember.
"And it would be a pity, since you're still so young". His words rang in Eve's ears.
From that day on, Jack would try and dedicate some time during the day to his maid's ears. It didn't need to always be something of significance, there wasn't a chance of a dialogue, after all. Jack wanted his maid-slave to just hear him. He'd go on and on while slacking off in front of the T.V about some dumb celebrity, or narrate a random story from his childhood, usually after one too many whiskeys. He read her books and jokingly narrated the movies he was seeing to her.
As time went on, Jack became more generous during their "chats". He'd even apologised to her for his strict "one strike out" policy on her punishments, quickly adding that "it is necessary for you, to keep your performance standards high". He occationaly complemented her: ("All joking aside, i don't know if i would be able to move around blind, as well as you do"), before taunting her: ("You know there's no way out for you, right doll? I'd be dump to orchestrate this whole thing and then end up in jail").
Eve could only stand and listen, and listen she did. At first, the idea of him trying to relate to her seemed ridiculous. She still hated the son of a bitch with all her being, who did he think he was? But after a while, his voice and his words presented a pleasant break from the constant void she experienced. It was almost soothing, like having ... company.
Eve didn't just felt, she WAS, closer to him. And she would soon find herself even closer.
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