7:00 PM, Aria’s apartment.
A meticulously prepared dinner sat on the dining table. A perfectly seared steak, a fresh salad, and a bottle of wine. Seated with Aria at this table was her neighbor, Elena.
Aria had moved into this apartment three months ago. A 34-year-old office worker living alone, she lived right next door to Elena, a 52-year-old housewife who lived with her husband and daughter. Despite the significant age gap, the two had become close quickly. To an outsider, they looked like a friendly pair of sisters—shopping together and sharing dinners like this.
“Elena, I had another huge blowout with my team lead today. I thought I’d lose my mind. He kept pushing about the project schedule, just barking at me to work faster. But from a practical standpoint…”
Aria vented about her workday, cutting into her steak with vigor. Elena, sitting across from her, responded with a faint smile and brief, measured words.
“I see… that must have been very difficult for you.”
“How was your day? Is your husband coming home early tonight?”
“He said… he’d be late today…”
“That’s a relief. Oh, and how is Lily? Is she still acting cold toward you lately?”
“…”
“You must worry a lot. But don’t let it get to you too much. Everyone goes through that at her age. I was the same way, you know…”
To any listener, it was a conversation between friendly neighbors. However, Elena’s demeanor was strangely cautious. Her answers were short, and she seemed to react passively to everything Aria said.
Sure enough, the atmosphere shifted subtly the moment Aria lifted her wineglass.
“Elena… would you pour the wine for me now?”
A moment of silence followed. Elena’s face stiffened slightly. She knew that once Aria started drinking, ‘it’ would begin.
Elena rose carefully from her chair and approached Aria. As she picked up the wine bottle, her hands trembled minutely. The crimson liquid filled the glass slowly, the sound of the pouring echoing loudly in the quiet room.
(Clink…)
Aria took a sip with a satisfied smile.
“I really love the taste of the wine you pour, Elena.”
Aria looked relaxed and composed. However, Elena, as she set the bottle down, looked anything but normal. Her face was flushed deep red, but her posture was the strangest part. Beneath the table, her bare legs were pressed tightly together—knees and heels touching—while she stood strained on the tips of her toes.
Looking closer, Elena’s attire was far from ordinary. She was wearing a maid’s uniform that looked like something out of the Victorian era. It wasn’t a modest outfit; the neckline plunged deep, and the skirt was dangerously short, hitting well above the knee. Though it featured a white apron, it was certainly not something a 52-year-old housewife would normally wear.
Aria raised her glass again and spoke.
“I’ve really been enjoying our time together lately. Receiving your… humble service like this. You like it too, don’t you?”
“Yes… I enjoy it, Mistress.”
Mistress. It was a word that had no place in a casual dinner between neighbors. It was a title that Elena, much older than Aria, should never have used for a 34-year-old. Yet, the posture, the tone, and the title all pointed to a different reality.
And that wasn’t the only thing out of place.
Aria, smiling at Elena’s response, set her wineglass down and slowly reached out. Without hesitation, her hand slid deep into the opening of Elena’s bodice.
(Squish…)
“Ah… hnn…”
As Aria’s hand began to knead Elena’s breast, a soft moan escaped Elena’s lips. Yet, she did not move away. Instead, she clasped her hands even tighter behind her back, arching her chest forward toward Aria’s touch.
That was their ‘Rule.’ The rule of their secret play. In this moment, Elena was the ‘Maid’ who obeyed Aria, and Aria was the ‘Mistress’ who used and commanded her.
***
They had first met about three months ago.
The beginning was ordinary. When Aria first moved in and visited with housewarming gifts, Elena welcomed her with kindness. Aria was bright and sociable. Elena enjoyed the company of a cheerful younger neighbor, despite the age difference.
But as time passed, Aria began to subtly ask Elena for various favors. At first, they were simple requests.
‘Elena, I’m so bad at cooking…’
‘Elena, I don’t really know how to use this vacuum…’
Because she liked Aria, Elena happily obliged. It was in her nature—helpful and naturally submissive. She found it difficult to say no. Aria, however, was different. She was the type of person who found satisfaction in moving others according to her will.
Thus, Elena’s submissive personality and Aria’s desire for dominance clicked together perfectly.
Aria’s requests gradually evolved into blatant ‘orders’ regarding her housework. She began to feel a strange thrill seeing an older woman yield to her control.
‘Elena, I’d like the towels in the bathroom aligned perfectly.’
‘Elena, there are fingerprints on the mirror here…’
Furthermore, Aria had a sexual orientation she kept hidden from others: she was a lesbian. She was experienced, but she had never ‘possessed’ an older woman before. To her, Elena’s mature body became a source of intense curiosity and desire.
This ‘Maid Play’ had started from that spark, and for Aria, it had become the perfect game.
***
Back at the dining table in Aria’s apartment…
Aria had now openly pulled Elena’s breasts out from her bodice and was kneading them with her hands.
“I don’t know why I love your breasts so much, Elena. they’re so warm and soft…”
In contrast, Elena had been deeply shocked when this first began. She had wondered how a woman could do this to another woman. Of course, Aria’s touch hadn’t been like this from the start. In the beginning, it was just light affection—hugs or a casual hand on the shoulder. But one day, that touch had migrated toward places Elena never expected.
Yet, despite that, Elena couldn’t refuse. No, it was more that she didn’t want to refuse.
At fifty-two years old, it had been a long time since Elena’s husband looked at her as a woman. To him, and even to her children, she was merely a housewife who cooked and did the laundry. But Aria was different. Aria touched her and desired her. Aria made Elena feel like a woman again.
Moreover, Aria’s touch was nothing like her husband’s. Her hands were… unconventional.
Aria’s fingers found Elena’s nipple, fiddling with it obsessively. Then, she gave it a sharp pinch.
“Ngh…!”
“Do you know how sexy you look when you wince like that, Elena?” Aria said with a smirk, her hand never stopping. She continued to toy with the nipple—pinching, twisting, and pulling.
Surprisingly, Elena found herself enjoying it. Even though her breasts, which she had kept private for decades, were being treated so roughly… she felt a thrill that her “useless” body was being used in this way.
Aria gripped Elena’s chin, forcing her to look up.
(Mwah…)
A short, intense kiss. Aria’s tongue darted into Elena’s mouth and retreated, only to plunge back in again. Short and forceful. Elena felt Aria’s saliva—it was sweet and hot. Elena began to grow intoxicated by the taste, coupled with the persistent torture of her nipple.
Only after a long moment did Aria pull away. Elena’s lips were wet, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
“Did you like that, Elena?”
Though Elena’s eyes were misty, she gave a slow, rhythmic nod.
She didn’t know why she was like this. Why she remained still during these humiliating and transgressive acts… why she was becoming addicted to this abnormal physical relationship. But this was exactly why Elena had fallen so deeply for Aria.
And then… there was one more thing to their physical dynamic. Something that was truly beyond comprehension.
“Elena… would you go get the switch now?”
At those words, Elena’s face went deathly pale. The word ‘switch’ hit her like a physical blow.
“A… Aria, please.”
“Don’t give me that frightened look. It’s our rule, isn’t it? We agreed that even your smallest mistakes wouldn’t go unaddressed.”
“But… the switch is too much…”
“Elena, punishment is necessary. It’s for your own good. And for ours…”
Punishment. It was something Aria had introduced a while ago. Or perhaps it had been there from the start. It was the price Elena had to pay whenever she failed to follow instructions. At first, it was just emotional—Aria would “pout” or act cold. But at some point, it turned into formal ‘Discipline.’
‘Elena, when you keep forgetting things or making mistakes, this will help you focus. Put your hands behind your back and stand on your tiptoes. Yes, just like that…’
‘Don’t forget my mail next time… understood?’
A month ago, because Elena had been late for an appointment, Aria had made her stand facing the wall in the back of a clothing store while people were around.
Then, recently, she had started using a rod. Even that had begun almost like a joke—swatting Elena’s bottom with her hand—but now, Aria had prepared an actual tool.
A moment later, Elena brought the switch. Previously, it had been hidden away in a bag, but today it sat on Aria’s desk. As if that was its rightful place now.
“Elena, you know the position, right?”
“Aria… please…”
“Now!”
Elena didn’t want to do it. But her body was already obeying. She walked slowly toward the dining table and leaned over it on her stomach. It was the position Aria had been demanding lately. With trembling hands, Elena slowly hiked up her skirt. She pulled it up past her thighs, until her buttocks were fully exposed. Just as when she was serving wine, she gathered the fabric of her skirt and held it behind her back.
“Now, Elena, shall we go over your mistakes? The punishment is only effective if you understand why you’re receiving it.”
Aria always made Elena realize her faults once she was in position. Elena began to stammer out her “sins,” just as she had been taught.
“The… the bottle… it touched the glass.”
“Yes, keeping it from spilling is important, but I also told you not to make a sound. You aren’t supposed to disturb your Mistress’s pleasant meal, are you?”
The ‘mistake’ Aria cited was absurd—nothing more than the faint clink of a bottle against a rim.
“And… what else?”
“Ngh… I broke the posture. My… my feet… they shook.”
“That’s right. I told you that when you’re on your tiptoes, your feet must stay pressed together.”
“That is the etiquette and the duty of a maid in our play. As much as the Mistress enjoys herself… the maid must endure.”
Finishing her sentence, Aria picked up the switch. She tapped it lightly against the center of Elena’s thighs.
(Tap, tap…)
“That’s three strokes for each mistake, so six in total. Elena, I’ll say it again: this is necessary for us. So, with every stroke, you must truly reflect on what you’ve done. Understood?”
In an instant, Elena was overwhelmed by a surge of emotion. The sheer absurdity of a 52-year-old housewife being whipped by a 34-year-old woman for such trivial reasons hit her all at once.
“Aria… please. Please, don’t hit me hard. Please…”
“I understand. But in return, Elena… take your punishment beautifully. You know the rules for being disciplined, don’t you?”
When Elena nodded, Aria didn’t waste another second. She raised the switch and brought it down hard against Elena’s thigh.
(Whack—!)
“AAAHHHHH—!”
It wasn’t light. Elena screamed, her entire body convulsing from just that one strike.
“Ugh… it hurts… it hurts so much…”
(Shiver…)
This was exactly why she had been so terrified. This was why she had been driven to tears. This was only the fifth time she had been switched, but Aria had never once shown mercy or struck her lightly.
“I know, Elena. But this is a punishment. You have to receive it properly so you can serve your Mistress better next time. Don’t you agree?”
(Whack—!) “AHHHH—!”
This time, the switch landed even harder on the tender skin just below her buttocks. Elena broke into uncontrollable sobs.
“You want to be a good maid, don’t you? Right?”
“Sob… hic…”
“A good maid answers clearly…”
“Yes… sob… I want to be… a good maid…”
(Whack—!) “AAAGH!”
Aria, meanwhile, was wearing a serene smile. She was savoring every second of this—Elena’s pain, and her absolute submission.
“You want to please your Mistress, don’t you?”
“Yes… I want… I want to please my Mistress.”
(Whack—!)
“HAAAHHH!”
“But you disturbed your Mistress’s dinner. That’s why you’re being punished. So you never make that mistake again.”
(Whack—!)
“Nnggh… h-hic…!”
“Because a good maid… never disappoints her Mistress!”
(Whack—!)
“AAHHH! AHHH—!”
The six strokes finally ended. Elena remained draped over the table, sobbing hysterically. The agonizing sting burning into her thighs, the crushing weight of the humiliation—being beaten for such a ridiculous reason… it felt as though her dignity was crumbling.
Yet, beneath the throbbing pain in her thighs, Elena felt something else—the heat between her legs becoming abnormally wet.
She truly didn’t know why. Was this a hidden nature she had always possessed? Or was it some hormonal imbalance that people said women faced during menopause?
Regardless of the reason, one thing was undeniable: the sensations she thought had died twenty years ago were being violently reawakened by the harsh switches of her young Mistress.
“How is it, Elena? Do you feel repentant now?”
“Yes… I am repenting, Mistress. I was wrong. Please… please forgive me… h-hic…”
“Then shall we check just how much my maid has repented?”
The ‘Verification of Repentance.’ It was the ritual Aria performed without fail after every session with the switch. It was meant to be the reward for the pain of the punishment.
Elena hesitated for a moment, but then, with practiced familiarity, she knelt before Aria and spread her legs. Beneath the hem of the maid’s uniform, her flesh—swollen red from the lashes—and the secret place between them were revealed.
Then came Aria’s unhesitating touch.
“Ah…! Haaah…”
Elena’s head snapped back as she let out a sharp moan. Aria’s hand had landed right on target. Her persistent fingers parted the valley and immediately located the sensitive peak.
“Haa… ahh…”
“Elena, what are you doing? You’re supposed to tell me how you feel. Tell me how it feels, and exactly how much you’re repenting.”
Aria asked with a mocking smirk, applying pressure and grinding her finger firmly against Elena’s clitoris.
“It… it feels good… Mis…tress… hic…”
“What feels good? You were just crying in pain… begging me to hit you softly.”
“No, Mistress… I… I love the punishment. Sob. I love being switched by my Mistress. Oh, god… ngh!”
Elena’s face turned a shade of crimson that looked ready to burst from shame, but she answered Aria’s questions quickly. She knew that only by satisfying Aria could she receive her ‘reward.’
“Then, do you want to come now? I’m asking if you want to reach the end.”
“Yes… please… please let me go, Mistress… Ah! Ahhh!”
(Wet sounds…)
“Ahhh… hnnngh…”
Aria’s movements grew faster and more intense. Elena’s hips bucked as she pleaded, driven by a pleasure that felt like it was about to explode.
“I love your face when you’re being hit… but I love this face, too. A face that’s nothing like your prim and proper exterior. Heh.”
But at that exact moment, Aria coldly withdrew her hand.
“But that’s as far as we go. You aren’t desperate enough yet, Elena. You’ve made a mess down here, and you haven’t repented properly. For a maid like you, this agonizing, burning excitement—the thirst for your Mistress’s touch—suits you much better than the pleasure of release.”
There was no ‘reward’ from the beginning. Her reward was merely ‘Edging’—a different kind of torture that stops just before the climax. At the sudden severance of sensation, Elena reached out into the empty air before collapsing in a heap.
Instead, there was a different kind of service required. Aria slowly spread her own legs. Elena knew exactly what this meant. Keeping her arms behind her back, she maintained her posture and crawled between Aria’s legs. She buried her face into her Mistress’s groin.
It was an unequal subjugation—a state where her own pleasure was forbidden, and she had to use her tongue solely for her master’s satisfaction.
That was the final ‘reward’ Elena received today, dragging her even deeper into the abyss of enslavement.
***
10:00 PM.
Upon returning to her own home, Elena was met by the cold, stagnant air of the living room and the look of pure disdain from her daughter, Lily.
”Mom, have you been next door this whole time? Look at the state of this house—how can you just leave everything like this? God, this is so annoying!”
Her daughter’s words cut deeper into her heart than any switch ever could. She was right. The sink was piled with dishes, and the house felt neglected. In fact, the “coldness” Aria had mocked earlier was exactly because of this. As Lily slammed her bedroom door shut, Elena retreated into the bathroom as if fleeing from her own life.
’I won’t do this again… I’m never going back there,’ she whispered to herself. She didn’t know how many hundreds of times she had made that same empty promise.
But the moment she stripped off her clothes and stood before the mirror, that resolve vanished into thin air.
There they were—vivid, crimson brands carved into her thighs. Elena’s trembling fingers slowly traced the raised welts. As the stinging pain radiated through her skin, her feelings of misery shifted into a strange, dark euphoria. Those marks were a living testament—a proof that her neglected, discarded body was being ‘used’ and desired by someone.
She knew then. She was already trapped in a swamp too deep to escape. And by tomorrow, she would find herself longing for that harsh pain once again, inevitably knocking on the door next door.
(End of Part 1)