A maid works for a man whom she refers to as her master. Though she attempts to diligently clean his space, he always finds fault with her work, and requires her to bend over and receive lashes, whether it be by a belt, hand, cane, or other various tools he uses. Every day, she attempts to fix the previous day's errors, but he always a new one, such as the way she tucked the bed sheets incorrectly or the leftover prints on the mirror. On more than one occasion, she walks in to find him with an erection, and he mumbles about some dream that is the culprit. Though she doesn't enjoy the lashings, she accepts them as her acts of contrition, as she believes that to do good work is akin to closeness to God. He doesn't enjoy doling out her punishment either, though he knows from his manuals that for any mistake a certain type and quantity of punishment must be doled out to lead her to a path of pious perfection. Some days her mistakes are so foul that he feels the need to draw blood during her punishment. No matter her attempts at perfection, she cannot fix the room to his standard. The bed, in particular, remains imperfect, as she finds it soiled anew every day with bloodstains, her drawers, a bloodied belt, a dead fetus, frogs, and even a pile of soil and worms. After a certain point, she gives up on perfection, as she knows that no such thing can be attained, but keeps up the appearance of perfection for his sake, despite the daily punishments she receives. One day, it seems that perhaps she will not be in need of punishment — perhaps.