Before exiting the concrete torture room, Miss Siobhan placed a heavy round weight below Greg, and fastened it securely to his testicles. When standing, the weight pulled painfully, distending his scrotum and pressing his balls. Fortunately, Miss Siobhan barked "On your hands and knees!", and Greg gratefully obeyed.
Crawling after Miss Emily as they headed toward the kitchen, the weight dragged behind him. His testicles were sore, but it was better than the pain when standing. They entered the beautifully equipped and styled kitchen. There was a dog dish and water bowl, to the side. Miss Emily pointed.
"There is your food. Only go there when you have finished whatever task you have been given. For now, your task is to clean the tile in the kitchen with that sponge," Miss Emily indicated a small wet sponge sitting on the floor in the corner.
Greg started to head over to the sponge on all fours, but Miss Emily grabbed the cord that wrapped around his balls and jerked. "I didn't tell you to begin. You presume far too much. For this, you will be hobbled."
Greg waited patiently on all fours, his testicles aching from the yank. When Miss Emily returned, she put one foot on his back and shoved him down to the ground on his stomach. Pulling one elbow back, her boot still on his spine, he felt her slip a strap under his arm. The same was done to his other arm, and a single strap was now threaded beneath both his elbows. The strap began to slowly tighten, bringing his arms painfully behind him.
"Oh... OH... AWWWgggg" Greg felt his elbows touch behind his back, and the heel of Miss Emily's boots pushing painfully down on his spine. He grunted, moaned and whimpered as the strap was secured, and the heel removed. His hands were free, but with elbows pinned together behind his back, he could hardly use his hands. He was stuck laying on the floor.
"All right, slave. Get going. Clean the floor, and do a good job." Miss Emily sounded satisfied, turned and left.
Greg began wriggling along the floor like a worm crossing the sidewalk after a rain. He was able to get to his knees and waddled over to the sponge. Once there he knelt and thought about what he could do next. His arms bound behind his back, he was going to find it difficult to scrub the floor. He sat and tried picking up the sponge with his feet. That worked, but not very well. He could hold the sponge, but there was no way he could effectively scrub the floor. He turned, and picked it up with a free hand. Yes, he could do that, but... twisting and turning to get the sponge on the floor and scrubbing was once again impossible without a lot of pain and cramping in his arms and shoulders.
Finally, he tried using his mouth. Certainly less than ideal, but this method allowed for a steady back and forth scrubbing motion.
For almost an hour, Greg's naked body writhed on the floor, sliding the sponge across and back and forth. When the sponge became so filthy that he couldn't stand for it to be in his mouth any more, he raised up, went to the sink and rinsed it out. Filled with fresh water, it tasted a little better and he descended to the floor to continue cleaning.
The testicle weight slowed him down, and created a constant aching in his balls. While he could reduce the pain by making sure that he moved slowly and carefully, the constant dragging of the weight pulled and jerked on his scrotum. At times he simply sat, not cleaning, in order to relieve the pain.
Greg finally returned the sponge, and then moved to the dog dishes. He slurped water up, thirstier than he realized. Then he attacked the dog food, which tasted terrible. But he was hungry, very hungry, and slurping up the last of the water, he sloshed it down.
Miss Emily entered the kitchen, surveyed the floor, and seemed pleased. "Well, slave... it is not a bad job. It needs to be completed in about half the time though. This was far to slow."
Placing a heavy slave collar around his neck and locking a 3 foot chain to it, Miss Emily guided Greg into the living room. Commanding that he stand before her, at attention, Miss Siobhan arrived with a platter of toys. Standing in pain from the ball weights, Greg awaited Miss Emily's pleasure, but took this time to marvel over the Goddess before him.
She was wearing jeans and a tight T shirt. He could see her perfect breasts outlined clearly through the shirt, not large and saggy, but large enough to have a perfect round shape that stood out from her slim body. He wanted to worship those breasts, so suffocate in them, suck on the nipples. Just above her chest was her neck, the alabaster perfection of smooth skin, the rise and fall of her clavicle, and the flesh disappearing under the long, smooth, dark hair which hung across her shoulders. Her face looked cute, girlish really, and she had a tendency to smile with a quick smirk that was so endearing...
Searing pain jerked him back to reality as Miss Emily placed a nipple clamp on his left nipple. It was tight, smashing the sensitive skin and invoking a yelp of pain. Miss Emily smiled at the sound. A small weight slid onto a ring hanging from the bottom of the clamp. Another yelp, as Greg's right nipple was crushed with its own clamp, with its own matching weight.
The clamps slowly accepted more and more weights, dragging down on his nipples. The pain from his tits was penetrating, increasing and spreading across his body, and descending to join the cramping ache that spread across his hips and stomach from the testicle weights. He whimpered.
But he had a raging erection; in spite of his pain, he stood before Miss Emily with the obvious arousal of a slave in love. His cock throbbed slightly, bouncing with the beat of his heart, as well as shaking with his moans and whimpers. If only... if only those smooth hands would touch him there. If only he could orgasm at her touch, he would be complete.
Instead, after nearly an hour of this play, his testicle weights were removed suddenly. Then the clamps were removed without warning. His nipples had become completely numb, but when the clamps were removed he screamed at the pain when the blood rushed back in. He tried to stay at attention, but bent over slightly from the resurgent agony.
Miss Siobhan led Greg, still waddling from pain, to a small closet off the hall. Inside was an eye bolt in the floor and a large box filled with sand. She locked his chain to the eye bolt, and pointed at the sand box. "Your toilet," she indicated, and then shut the door.
Greg lay inside the dark closet for hours, recovering from what was a most painful introduction to Miss Emily's household. After the pain subsided and he lay chained to the floor, he thought of Miss Emily, dreaming of her naked form touching him in any way she pleased. He in turn touched himself, slowly stroking and imagining it was Miss Emily teasing his cock, slowly bringing him to climax.
Eventually he came, spurting cum repeatedly on his stomach. After he was done, he realized he could be punished for pleasuring himself in this way. There was nothing to clean himself with, so he spread the semen across his body in a fine film, and then rubbed his body on the floor, trying to hide the evidence. Finally, he used his toilet box, and then slept.