Service Session: Mopping up the Floor with Torn

Sunday brunch leaves the lounge wrecked. They send House slave Torn down to fix it. She gets on hands and knees with a rag, scrubbing streaks of spilled wine and crumbs from the marble. The place still smells like eggs, bacon, and the sharp tang of the people who just left. A crop lands hard across her ass, tells her to move faster. Her tits swing as she leans forward, nipples dragging over the cold floor. They bind her wrists to the handle of the mop and make her push it with her mouth. Every yank of the rope pulls her shoulders back, stretches her wide open. They spread her ass and slide a thick plug deep. She whimpers around the handle, drool running down her chin onto the floor she’s supposed to clean. The plug stays seated while they lay stripes across her thighs with the cane, each strike echoing off the high ceilings. Her knees slide in her own spit. By the time the floor shines, her ass is glowing, red lines crossing fresh welts, and the plug is slick with lube and her own juices. The ropes stay tight. She stays low. Service restored.