Yesterday morning, I slept through my alarm clock.

Every morning I have to be up and fully dressed at 6:30, an hour before my Mistress wakes up. This is so that I can prepare her a full breakfast every morning. Poached eggs, toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee, and so on. Only this time, I awoke to the sound of my Mistress's voice.

"Wake up. I said, wake up."

I awoke out of my daze and as my blurry vision fixed itself, I saw her standing over my bed in her silky nightgown. Her arms were crossed and she was glaring down at me.

"And just what exactly do you think you're doing still in bed at 7:45?" She barked at me. My heart was pounding and I shot up out of bed, before kneeling before her, which was what she calls "kneeling to attention." She put her hands on her hips as I apologised profusely for waking up late.

"This is the second time in a month that I've woken up with no coffee in bed, my breakfast not made, my bath not run. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I couldn't find the words to excuse myself because I had no excuse. As a strong-minded, successful, independent woman in her early 50s, she was immune to being swayed with any poor excuses. I was mortified by my behaviour. Normally, I get woken up before my alarm anyway by my morning wood trying to get hard in my chastity cage. But for some reason, not this time.

 "When I get home from work today, we're going to have a good talk about this. After almost a year of living here, you should know better."

 She spun around and walked out of my room in a huff. As fast as I could, I put on my panties, bra, stockings and garter belt, and picked out a skirt and a top. I rushed into the kitchen and began making her breakfast as quickly as I could, while I heard her take a quick shower.

 As she ate in the kitchen and I stood at the sink washing the dishes, she leaned back in her chair with her coffee. "I think 30 lashes with my cane should be an acceptable punishment, don't you think, Poppy?"

I mustered out a "Yes, Mistress", with a bit of a whimper. The cane was painful... and thirty?! That was a lot to endure. My stomach dropped.

"And I was going to allow you a free night tonight, but that's cancelled."

When I heard this I almost dropped the plate I was washing. "Free nights" were nights where she would lend me the keys to my chastity cage before bed, as long as I was fully locked up again by morning. I had only had five of these so far in the 11 or so months under her control, and only for exceptional above-and-beyond behaviour. It was the only chance I had to enjoy being unlocked. During nights when I'm really struggling with sexual frustration, even if I manage to pull myself out of my cage, it's almost impossible to get back into without help, and I don't even want to know the punishment for pulling out, so I just endure it. Plus, in chastity is where I know I belong anyway. 

 With a shakey voice I replied. "Yes, Mistress."

 I knelt for attention by the front door, and put her heels on for her in silence. Before she left, I didn't even get a kiss on the forehead like normal. I knew she was very mad at me.

I spent all day cleaning as thoroughly as I could. Dusting, polishing, vacuum cleaning every room, and I even had time to clean her make-up brushes and bleach the shower screen. She only works twice a week at her office, so on those days I always try to do extra.

 When she arrived home at 7pm, I greeted her, took her heels off, and followed her into her bedroom for routine inspection. She names items of clothing that I must always be wearing, and I show her. She checks my bra, making sure it's stuffed to make myself look more feminine, she checks my panties to make sure they're in good condition, she checks for runs in my stockings, and she checks my chastity cage to make sure I haven't been tampering with it or pulling out of it. It's been 11 months since I began serving her and still during inspections I get so flustered when she touches my cage.

 She grabbed her cane from her wardrobe and made me put my hands on her bed. She lifted my skirt and gently pulled my panties down.

 "Now, Poppy. Just like always. Sing out the number of each stroke for me, and thank me. All the way to thirty."

*SMACK!*. I said clearly, "One. Thank you Mistress."

 *SMACK!*. "Two. Thank you Mistress."

 *SMACK!*. "Three. Thank you Mistress."

By 15, things got harder. She was striking the exact same places as had already been struck. It hurt like crazy! Occasionally I winced and pulled my bottom away, whimpering from the pain.

 "Ah! No no, Poppy, come on. Bottom out. Arch your back. Good girl."

 *SMACK!*. "Twenty-two. Thank you Mistress."

*SMACK!*. "Twenty-three. Thank you Mistress." 

Finally, she hit the final stroke with her cane. It was over at last. I was panting and my knees were quivering.

"Now, what do you say?" She said.

I stammered out the line I was supposed to say after every caning. "Thank you Mistress for administering thirty strokes of your cane, so that I may learn to serve you better and more faithfully as your servant. Please continue if it pleases you Mistress."

"No, that will be all."

 It was quite a day as her servant. Some days are easier than others, but above all I strive to please her. I thank her every day for making me her house-servant. I'm going to end the post here, as it's getting late now and I must be up bright and early tomorrow for another day serving her in every way possible! Plus, I had to rub her gorgeous soft feet before bed and now I'm all hot and bothered, leaky in my cage again... . Getting to sleep tonight is going to be a bit difficult!