The Relocation & The Rules

Friday evening.

Ethan’s phone lit up at 6:03 p.m. while he was still in the uniform skirt, stockings rolled down to his ankles, cage dripping onto the hardwood of his bedroom floor. He’d just finished the nightly journal entry—three pages of trembling cursive describing how the new plug had made him leak through fourth-period calculus.

Ms. Vaughn:

Pack one bag. Essentials only. Be at my door in 45 minutes.

You’re moving in tonight.

No discussion. No excuses.

His pulse spiked so hard the cage throbbed. Move in? His mom thought he was at a study retreat. His dad was on a business trip. The lie had held for two weeks; now it was becoming truth.

He stuffed a duffel with:

Three plain hoodies (he doubted he’d wear them).

One pair of boxers (nostalgia).

Toothbrush, deodorant, the hormone bottle now half-empty.

The leather journal, swollen with nightly confessions.

He left a note on the kitchen counter: Extended study program with Ms. Vaughn. Back after finals. Love, E.

He signed it with the looping E she’d taught him—feminine, flourished.

The Uber ride was twenty minutes of agony. The driver kept glancing in the rear-view; Ethan’s skirt peeked beneath the hoodie, stockings whispering with every shift. The plug—size three now, curved and heavy—pressed relentlessly. By the time the car pulled up to Riverside Lofts, he was panting, cage soaked.

Ms. Vaughn opened the door in a charcoal silk robe, belt knotted loosely. The hallway light carved shadows across her collarbones. She didn’t speak—just took the duffel, dropped it inside, and crooked a finger.

He followed her through the apartment to a room he’d never seen: a converted study turned dormitory. Pink walls, white trim, a narrow twin bed with satin sheets and restraint cuffs bolted to the frame. A vanity with ring lights. A full-length mirror on a swivel. A wardrobe already half-filled with uniforms in ascending sizes.

“Strip,” she said. “Everything but the cage, plug, and anklet.”

Ethan peeled off hoodie, skirt, blouse. The stockings slid down like shed skin. He stood naked except for the glinting symbols of ownership.

Ms. Vaughn produced a thick stack of cream cardstock—ten pages, hole-punched, bound with a crimson ribbon. HOUSE RULES embossed in gold.

“Read aloud,” she commanded, settling into a velvet wingback. “Kneel while you do it. Hands behind your back.”

He sank to the carpet, knees on a cushioned mat. The plug shifted deeper; he bit back a moan. The first page trembled in his grip.

HOUSE RULES – PROPERTY OF E.V.

Effective immediately upon relocation. Breach = punishment. Obedience = reward.

Rule 1 – Designation

You are no longer Ethan.

In private: Eva

In public (when permitted): Evie

In punishment: sissy, pet, puppy, slut, bitch, hole

You will answer instantly to any of the above. Hesitation earns 10 strokes.

Rule 2 – Dress Code

Uniform of the day posted on the bedroom door by 6 a.m.

Underwear: only what is laid out.

Outerwear: only with permission.

Heels minimum 2" at all times indoors.

Cage and plug: 24/7 unless removed for cleaning/milking.

Makeup: full face by 7 a.m. daily.

Nail polish: weekly inspection, color chosen by Mistress.

Rule 3 – Schedule

05:30 – Wake, enema, shower, hormones

06:00 – Makeup & uniform

06:30 – Breakfast (served kneeling)

07:00 – Chores (list on fridge)

08:00 – Online classes (camera on, uniform visible)

12:00 – Lunch (protein shake + plug check)

13:00 – Training (voice, posture, service)

17:00 – Free time (journal, edging, worship)

19:00 – Dinner (served on the floor)

20:00 – Evening inspection

22:00 – Bed (cuffed, masked, plugged)

Deviations require written request 24 hrs in advance.

Rule 4 – Bodily Control

Orgasms: only with permission, only hands-free or ruined.

Milking: twice weekly, gloved, recorded.

Erections: punished if unscheduled.

Bathroom: only with supervision or timer.

Shaving: full body every 48 hrs. Mistress inspects.

Rule 5 – Speech & Manners

Voice: upper register only. Pitch app on phone. Below 220 Hz = gag.

Posture: back straight, knees together, eyes down unless addressed.

Titles: Mistress or Ma’am at all times.

Gratitude: every command ends with “Thank you, Mistress.”

Begging: creative, explicit, enthusiastic.

Rule 6 – Punishments

Spanking: bare, over knee, counted aloud.

Corner time: nose to wall, plug in, hands cuffed.

Ice: cage submerged until soft.

Writing lines: 500 minimum, perfect penmanship.

Edging: 20 edges, no release.

Public: remote plug on high in approved settings.

Rule 7 – Rewards

Orgasms (full, rare)

Sleep uncuffed

Choice of nail color

Worship time between Mistress’s thighs

New lingerie

Name carved temporarily into skin (henna)

Rule 8 – Guests

Selected visitors only.

You will serve: drinks, oral, display.

Safe word: Red. Use earns discussion, not termination.

Rule 9 – Journal

Minimum 1,000 words nightly.

Topics assigned.

Read aloud weekly.

Rule 10 – Permanence

This contract renews monthly.

Termination: only by Mistress.

You may beg to stay.

Eva’s voice cracked on the final line. The plug pulsed with every heartbeat; the cage dripped steadily onto the carpet. When he finished, Mistress held out her hand. He placed the rules in her palm like an offering.

“Sign the last page,” she said. “In your new name.”

She’d left a space: Eva _________

He wrote Eva Vaughn in looping cursive, the pen trembling. The surname felt like a brand.

Mistress smiled, slow and feral. “Good girl. Now the relocation ritual.”

She led him to the en-suite—a marble palace with a sunken tub, bidet, and a stainless-steel exam table folded against the wall. She unfolded it with a metallic clack.

“Up. On your back. Legs in stirrups.”

Eva obeyed, the plug shifting as she spread. Cold metal kissed her thighs. Mistress locked the stirrups, spreading her wide. The cage pointed at the ceiling, leaking.

“First house enema,” Mistress said, filling a two-quart bag with warm, soapy water. “You’ll hold five minutes. Then release in front of me. Clean slates only.”

The nozzle slid in beside the plug—dual fullness that made Eva whimper. Warmth flooded her, cramping sweetly. Mistress massaged her belly in slow circles, gloved fingers tracing the cage.

“Count,” she whispered.

“One… two…” By four, Eva was sweating, hole clenching desperately. At five, Mistress pulled both plug and nozzle. Eva scrambled to the bidet, releasing in a humiliating rush while Mistress watched, arms crossed.

“Better,” she said, rinsing Eva with the sprayer like a pet. “Now the welcome gift.”

She produced a new plug—stainless steel, heavier, with a pink gem the size of a quarter and a lockable core. She coated it in warming lube and pressed it home. The weight settled deep; Eva’s prostate sang. A tiny padlock clicked through the base, chaining it to the harness.

“Key stays on my necklace,” Mistress said, the key already nestled between her breasts. “You’ll feel me every second.”

She unstrapped Eva and led her—naked, locked, dripping—to the bedroom. A velvet cushion waited at the foot of the four-poster.

“Kneel.”

Eva sank down. Mistress shrugged off the robe. Underneath: black lace bodysuit, crotchless, nipples visible through sheer cups. She straddled Eva’s face, thighs clamping.

“Worship. Show me you’re grateful for your new home.”

Eva dove in, tongue tracing lace edges before delving into slick heat. Mistress rocked slowly, using Eva’s mouth like a toy. The steel plug shifted with every grind; the cage wept.

When Mistress came, she flooded Eva’s tongue, thighs trembling. She didn’t let Eva stop—kept riding through two more orgasms until Eva’s jaw ached and her face glistened.

Finally, Mistress stepped back, flushed. “Bed.”

She cuffed Eva’s wrists to the headboard, ankles to the foot. A silk mask slipped over her eyes. The hormones and exhaustion pulled her under instantly.

Midnight. Eva woke to warm lips around the cage bars. Mistress milked her slowly, gloved hand stroking the sensitive head through metal. No orgasm—just edging, over and over, until Eva sobbed into the pillow.

“Welcome home,” Mistress whispered, locking the cage again. “Tomorrow the rules begin in earnest.”

Morning came at 5:30 sharp. The alarm was a soft chime and the click of the bedroom door. Mistress stood in a silk kimono, holding a tray: hormone pill, glass of water, protein shake in a baby bottle.

“Swallow.”

Eva took the pill, then the bottle—nipple between her lips, sucking obediently while Mistress watched. The shake was thick, vanilla, laced with something that made her nipples tingle.

Uniform of the day:

Sheer white babydoll nightie, no panties.

4-inch clear heels.

Full makeup station ready.

Mistress sat Eva at the vanity. “Tutorial. Follow every step.”

Foundation, contour, blush. Eyeliner sharp enough to cut. Lipstick—cherry red. By 6:45, Eva stared at a stranger: plush lips, smoky eyes, cheekbones sculpted. The nightie barely covered the cage; the heels made her ass jut.

Chores: dust in heels, vacuum on all fours, laundry folded with wrists cuffed behind back. Every bend flashed the locked plug.

8:00 a.m.—online class. Eva sat at a desk facing the camera, babydoll and heels visible from the waist up. The professor droned about stoichiometry; Eva’s plug buzzed on low whenever she slouched. She kept her voice high, answering questions in breathy Evie tones.

Lunch: shake on the floor, kneeling, while Mistress ate salmon at the table. A foot in stocking slid between Eva’s thighs, pressing the cage.

Afternoon training:

Voice app—repeat phrases until pitch-perfect.

Posture pole strapped to back, forcing arch.

Walking in 5-inch stilettos, book on head.

5:00 p.m.—free time. Eva journaled on the cushion, describing the taste of Mistress’s cum, the weight of the steel plug, the way the cage pinched when she got hard thinking about tomorrow.

Dinner: served naked on the floor—steak cut into tiny pieces, fed from Mistress’s fingers. Each bite earned a “Thank you, Mistress.”

Evening inspection:

Mistress bent Eva over the exam table, spread her cheeks. The steel plug gleamed. She unlocked it, inspected the stretched rim, then replaced it with a vibrating model—remote in her hand.

“Edge for me,” she said, settling into the wingback. “Ten times. No release.”

The vibrator pulsed in patterns. Eva humped the air, cage dripping, sobbing counts. At ten, Mistress caught the ruined orgasm in a glass, fed it to Eva with a spoon.

“Bedtime.”

Cuffs, mask, a pacifier gag strapped in. The vibrator on low, endless tease. Eva drifted off clenching around steel, dreaming of rules and red lipstick.

The contract was signed.

The bag was unpacked.

Eva was home.