Monday, July 4, 2016

Fiction: fs01 - Part 33

Author’s Note:  This follows Part 32.



With each passing day, Mistress glows brighter.  Her fire burns hotter. She orgasms faster.  More frequently.  More intense.  Her pleasure cries are primal.  Violent.

She grows.  She embraces more of herself.  It's beautiful.  She is beautiful.

I love her.  I love watching her flourish.  I love feeding her fire.  Any conflicts I have inside about the new rules are overshadowed by the promises I made her: I would make her happy.  I would encourage her growth.  I would endure. With each day she glows brighter.

I kneel in front of Mistress as she sits on her throne in the bedroom.  My knees ache from the rice. My back is to her.  I feel her hands wander over me from behind.  She runs her fingers through the fur of my collar.  She pets my head.  Her finger traces across my cheek.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.  The scent of her perfume surrounds me.  It intoxicates me.  My sex strains against the metal.

"slave, I will be taking a trip for the long weekend.  Normally I would have someone come and stay with you but a former colleague of mine injured her leg skiing and requires an attendant.  I took the liberty of volunteering you for the task."

I start to turn my shoulders.  She places her hands on my upper arms and turns me back.  My heart is uneasy.  I don’t like it when we are separated.  Involving someone new only adds to the growing anxiety.

"This will be your first time serving a stranger.   You are to wait on her and assist her in any way while I am gone.  She is aware of our lifestyle and wants you in your maid form.  I have given her instructions on how to manage you, so you should expect her to wield the same power that Theresa, Lisa, or anyone else would have as your overseer.  Do you understand?"

I nod.  My mind races with dozens of questions.  Who is she?  Is she dominant?  How close is she to Mistress?  Even without the gag, I know I would not be permitted to ask.  My shoulders tense.

"Don't worry, she's nothing like Dominique."  Her hand returns to petting my head.  I let out a sigh of relief.

“I respect her a lot.  Your behavior will be a direct reflection of me.  If you make me look bad or reflect negatively on me in any way I will not hesitate to hurt you.  If that happens you will wish that Dominique were here to protect you.”

I lower my eyes. 

“I leave tomorrow, slave.  Place your head on my lap.  I wish to touch you.”

I turn to face her on my knees.  The posture collar prevents me from tilting my head in the normal way.  I lean forward and place my face on her lap.  The robe feels nice on my face.  Her perfume surrounds me.  Her fingers caress the fur on my earmuffs.  I close my eyes.  I want to see her face.  I want to see her eyes right now.  I no longer possess that privilege.  A sense of longing stirs in my heart.

I relish this intimacy.  My love for her burns deeply.  Her hands glide across my head.  She pets me.  Her finger strokes my cheek.  I love you, Mistress.  A touch from my Goddess is so precious.  It happens so infrequently now that I do not take it for granted.

I inhale deeply through my nose.  Her hand plays with the pom pom on my hat.  I feel her expanding heat on my cheeks.  I snuggle my face into her thighs. 

“That’s a little ambitious for a slave.”

Her voice carries disgust.  She shoves my head off of her lap and stands.  My heart aches a little at the rejection.  It is my own fault.

“Kiss my feet.”  I bow my head and kiss them, first the right foot, then the left.

“Retrieve the large suitcase, 2 rollers, and a large garment bag and place them outside my door.  I do not wish to be disturbed.  Finish your chores.  I will summon you if needed.”

I sulk in silence for the next few hours.  Chores drag.  I hear Mistress’s pleasure cries from across the house.  It fills me with longing.  I wish to lay with her.  I want to feel her arms around me.  I need to hear her voice turn cute and call me, ‘pet.’  How long has it been?  Weeks?

The bell rings over the intercom.  My body perks up.  I set the duster on the table and head for her room.  Her voice stops me in my tracks. 

“slave, prepare a light dinner for me.  A salad.  Serve it to me in my room.”

I retreat to the kitchen.  I prepare her salad with love.  Leafy greens, fresh vegetables, cheese, some shredded chicken, croutons, and a medium amount of dressing.  I place it on a silver tray along with a glass of wine. 

I carefully deliver the meal to Mistress’s bedroom.  I knock on the door.

“Enter, slave.”

I carefully open the door and enter.  Open suitcases line her floor.  Each is half-packed.  Mistress sprawls upon the bed.  Her robe sits open exposing her naked form.  A light glow of sweat glistens on her skin.  Various toys are strewn about the bed and floor.

I approach her with the tray.

“slave, place the tray on the nightstand and respect my privacy.” 
I set the tray down.  I turn and bow.  I depart the room, closing the door behind me.  My heart aches to be with her.  I return to the kitchen and clean the knives and cutting boards.  I finish my dusting. 

I stand at the stairs.  My eyes on the floor.  My hands in the muff.  I wait for her.  Time passes slowly.  Mistress, please need me. 

My eyes grow heavy.  My spirits grow weak.  I retreat to the basement dungeon.  The cage awaits me.  I crawl in and curl up into a ball.  I close my eyes.  I doze off.