I consider cleaning my own house a total waste of time, but i consider cleaning for Madame Sarka a true privilege. I don't know; a broom and a bucket get a much deeper meaning when you are about to use them for the most beautiful Madame on earth.
I arrived on an early Monday morning in Prague and as soon as i set foot (or better: knees) in Madame Sarka's house, duster and rag became mine. Every now and then Madame Sarka took a good look at what i was doing, but seemed satisfied with the way things were going. So far.....

Awwww...... But I hate to clean my room!
You've noticed, I presume
That when you try to find my floor
You gotta dig a little more
Because I hate to clean my room

I sang that childish song while cleaning the floors with a wet towel.
'The singing slave,' a voice said behind me.
My face turned red a little bit.
'i apologise, Madame Sarka.'
Madame Sarka laughed.
'You must make a CD one day: the singing slave, life in Prague.'
My red face turned almost purple.
'Y.yes Madame Sarka.'
'Now slave, lay down on your back. On a part of the floor that you have just cleaned.'
I admit; it surprised me, because i had no clue why Madame Sarka wanted me to do this. But as always: nothing happens without reason. Madame Sarka walked towards me and stepped on my chest.
'Do you like trampling, slave?'
And She began pushing down on my chest.
'Ye-ye-yes, Ma-ma-.'
'Hmmm, that is a nice song, slave! Ye-ye-ma-ma, I like it!'
Madame Sarka stepped back on my stomach, then on my chest again. Then She put one foot right on my face.
'Kiss it, slave, My gorgeous foot!
I kissed Madame Sarka's beautiful sole of Her foot.
Then She stepped down on the floor again.
'Now, turn around, let Me see how well you have cleaned the floor.'
i turned on my stomach and Madame Sarka began studying my back as if it was a beautiful picture.
'Hmmm, some dust here.....one lose hair there....that is not perfectly clean, slave! Start again!'
Thank God i consider cleaning a true privilege!

It was somewhere in the early hours of the afternoon when Madame Sarka ordered me to come the Her.
'We will go outside.' She explained. 'But....I have a surprise for you and you will like it!'
Twenty seconds later nipple clamps closed in on me.
'You will wear these in My honour.' Madame Sarka said with a bright smile. 'Now, put on your clothes.'
I did not even have one leg in my trousers when Madame Sarka called out to me again.
'Slave! My shoes! Put them on My feet!'

The city of Prague takes your breath away.
Nipple clamps as well.
Especially when Madame Sarka is with you, because during the shopping She bumped into me again and again, so-called accidentally. But knowing very, very well that each and every time my nipples got crushed.
'Oe-oe-oe-oe, Madame!'
'Oeps slave, I did not see you, be more careful where you walk!'
Then She slapped my face.
'Yes Madame Sarka, i apologise.'
But ten minutes later it happened again. Of course.
'Slave, what is the matter with you? What is that 'oe-oe-oe' sound all the time? A new song, a monkey song perhaps?'
Slap! Slap!
We went from shop to shop and I think we visited them all . At least once, because every now and then Madame Sarka wanted to go back to 'that other shop' once again. And all this time i was one with my nipples.

'Let's have some lunch, slave, plenty of time.'
'Yes Madame Sarka, thank you.'
And so we went into a restaurant, where we had a nice lunch, something to drink and where i was even allowed to smoke two cigarettes.
'One for each nipple,' Madame Sarka said with a smile.
But the clamps stayed on. And on....and on....and on....
It was only after we arrived home when Madame Sarka took off the clamps.
'Please Madame Sarka, please be gentle, please.'
'Ojojoj slave, does it hurt so much?'
'Yes Madame, yes.'
Then Madame Sarka removed the clamps and pain set in for a few horrible seconds. i covered my nipples with my hands, trying to take away the pain.
'Hands behind your back, slave!'
'Madame please, please, don't pull my nipples.''
'Stttt, slave.'
She put the palm of Her hands on my nipples and gently gave my sore nipples a massage.
'Better?'
'Oh yes Madame, thank you-oe-oe-oe-oe-oe-oe!
She pulled them hard. Just once, but sweet mercy......

That evening i prepared the dinner and i was allowed to eat together with Madame Sarka. We talked about Her house, Prague, holidays and everything that crossed our minds. Right after dinner i had to clean the dishes and give Madame Sarka a long massage. She lay down on Her stomach on the bed and i started with Her shoulders, down Her back to Her legs and in the end Her feet. It took me more then an hour and we did not speak much. Sometimes Madame Sarka gave some directions, like: a little harder on the left or use your thumbs on that spot. It was very relaxing, for Madame Sarka as well as for me.
After that we watched some Czech television, which was fun. Every now and then i had to bring Madame Sarka drinks or light Her cigarette. Then, somewhere around midnight it began to snow outside. We stood for one of the windows, looking at this white blanket that spread itself without a sound over the city.
i slept with hands tied on my back that night.
'Sleep well slave,' were Madame Sarka's last words, 'I hope for you that you don't have to go into the toilet tonight.'

The next day was again about cleaning. The bedroom, kitchen and some of Madame Sarka's boots and shoes. It was an honour to clean those, because i knew those shoes and boots would be on Madame Sarka's beautiful feet once again. i was just finished with that when Madame's Sarka voice rang out to me once again.
'Slave! Come here!
i entered the room, kneeled down and waited....
'You deserve a punishment,' Madame Sarka said, 'because you snored last night. So show me your ass.'
Snoring? Me?
But i turned around, of course i did. The whip came down a lot of times and when it stopped i thought it was finished.
'Thank You Ma-'
'Did I tell you to get up, slave! I am not finished with you!'
And then the cane came. Again. And again. Just as long as it pleased Madame Sarka.
'Now, put on your clothes, go into the garden and remove the snow over there. Fresh air is good for a slave with a painful ass!'
And so i went into the garden, took a shovel and started removing the snow from the path. Madame Sarka was right, as always: it was nice to be outside and feel the fresh winters air. I looked up and grey clouds were moving in, and i knew there was more snow to come.
Madame Sarka stepped into the garden, looked at my work and smiled.
'Good slave! Now, unbutton your trousers.'
Again i was surprised.
Madame Sarka took a handful of ice-cold snow, pulled my shorts and dropped the snow on my cock and balls.
'Like it slave?'
'Oef! Cold Madame Sarka, very cold!'
That seemed to please Madame Sarka and then it snowed in my shorts, again and again.

Next i had to clean Madame Sarka's car and this time the cold outside got cold inside. In my body i mean. Because the hot water turned into cold water pretty soon and my hands became as red as tomatoes. Still, i tried to do the best as i could, because i knew way too well i had to start all over again if Madame Sarka was not pleased with the result. Still, i looked like an ice-sculpture when i was finally finished.
But the reward for all my work took my breath away.
'We will go outside to have a nice dinner,' Madame Sarka said, 'and you will have the privilege of meeting some of my friends. Remember slave; this is a very special gift and you must consider yourself a very, very lucky slave.'
And boy, did i know it!
We went to a restaurant called Marie Teresie and it was a beautiful place with a very nice atmosphere. It was such an honour to spend some time with Madame Sarka's friends and it was lovely to see how much they care about each other. The evening was some sort of dream that only happens once in a lifetime and much, much too soon it was time to say goodbye to them again.
That night i slept with my feet feet tied together and again i agreed with Madame Sarka: it would be one hell of a ride to the toilet and back. But it did not happen, i slept like a baby and dreamed about these amazing days. The next morning i kissed Madame Sarka's feet and left for the airport.
'Remember, you are My slave and I want you to get back to Prague as soon as possible,' Madame Sarka said.
If i am a singing slave, then that was the most beautiful music i ever heard.

slave michael