“It is time to clean yourself.”
“Yes, Master. ” I obey and lather my body. When I am done, I step out and dry myself.
“Dress, quickly. Something nice.”
“Of course, Master.” I put on my pencil skirt and button up my top.
“Wear the black shoes, you’re going to work for exactly eight hours.”
“As you command, Master.” I slip them on and stand.
“Get your bag. Leave. NOW.”
I hurry out the door, grabbing my bag and without a coffee. I dare not imagine what would happen if I disobey. I love and hate my Master. I am a slave to the clock.
The Writing Prompt today is “Clock.”
Photo by Engin Akyurt from Pexels
Aaron Nieson 