There are oaths that are spoken once, and there are oaths that are lived daily. The oath to the Corn Cob Mistress is the second, which included chastity.

Chastity

On the first day of Christmas, Ravyn learned what it meant to belong.

To begin with, he was tiny, caged, and kept within the Queen’s keep—existing solely to carry out Ms. Laurel’s wishes, no matter what form they took. His oath was simple: obedience without hesitation. One of Mistress Laurel’s favorite tests of devotion was labor. Honest, degrading, endless labor. Ravyn learned quickly that nothing pleased the Corn Cob Mistress more than watching her sub kneel in filth, especially while cleaning the traveling barn—scrubbing the floors, polishing the rails, and tending to the pride of her kingdom: the double-hitched mobile home that carried her and her subbies from town to town.

On the second day of Christmas, denial arrived dressed as discipline.

Ravyn was locked in chastity and left outside in the cold while Mistress Laurel entertained a real man inside the warmth of the barn. The laughter, the muffled sounds of pleasure that were not his to give, burned deeper than the winter air. His ache was intentional. His exclusion was deliberate. Specifically, Mistress Laurel wanted him aware of exactly what he was—and what he was not.

On the third day of Christmas, Ravyn made the mistake of thinking he could move unseen.

Surprisingly Mistress Laurel caught him in the barn, his task unfinished. Therefore she tied him to a ladder, her laughter low and amused. Her discipline was firm, methodical, and accompanied by whispered reminders of his place. He could serve. He could suffer. But he could never please her the way power demanded. Obviously the truth was the real punishment, and it sank in deep.

Obedience

The fourth day of Christmas was quieter, heavier.

Overall Ravyn existed only at Mistress Laurel’s pleasure. Every task was permission. Every breath was borrowed. Service became ritual, and submission became comfort.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Mistress Laurel sent Ravyn on a pilgrimage of sorts—to help Mrs. Claus, the original giantess. After hours of cleaning and bowing, Ravyn was given a box meant only for Ms. Laurel. He wasn’t told what was inside. He didn’t need to know. His role was delivery, not curiosity.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Mistress Laurel decided humiliation should travel with them.

She led Ravyn into the grocery store, calm and confident, her hand firm at his back. As they moved down the aisles, she greeted friends and acquaintances, casually informing them that Ravyn was locked in chastity. She smiled as she spoke, sweet and knowing, letting their eyes linger on him. See him aching, her expression said. Ravyn stood there, burning with awareness, knowing his denial was visible, owned, and intentional.

Worship

The seventh day of Christmas brought the box from Mrs. Claus.

Inside were seven sissy subbies, each locked in chastity, each aching and deep in denial. They were gifts for Ms. Laurel, beautifully broken and ready to be displayed. Ravyn was ordered to worship them—to kneel among them, to acknowledge their beauty and their suffering, to understand that devotion could be multiplied and still never diminish Mistress Laurel’s power.

The eighth, ninth, and tenth days of Christmas blurred together in service.

Inside the traveling barn, Mistress Laurel passed out her favor—her nectar—to hillbilly subs who begged to serve her. Ravyn watched, waited, and learned. Denial sharpened devotion. Distance strengthened obedience. The Corn Cob Mistress rewarded those who understood their place and punished those who forgot it.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, worship took a quieter form.

Ravyn knelt at Mistress Laurel’s feet. Her heels. Her boots. He kissed what carried her power, understanding that reverence did not require permission to touch—only permission to adore. The floor beneath him felt earned.

And on the twelfth day of Christmas, the Hillbilly Mistress stood before her gathered subs.

They begged. They pleaded and they promised service and sacrifice. Mistress Laurel listened, amused and unmoved, before pointing them toward their future.

Check the schedule link, she said.
See when the next class starts.

And Ravyn—still aching, still devoted—knew he would be there. Always.

Until Later

Mistress Laurel, signing off.