Saturday, June 4, 2016

Thoughts on Arc 2 (possible spoilers, do not read if you haven't finished Part 15)

I just finished the second story arc of fs01.  I feel a bit drained.  This pulled in at roughly half the length of the first arc (~17k words, the work as a whole is now at over 50k words). 

After finishing the first arc, Part 10 is the only actual chapter I had in mind that progressed the plot.  That too was based off of a fantasy I wrote for K back in our early days as one of my assignments.  Getting all excited, going all out in pleasuring her with the promise of return, only to be denied in the end and have to accept that her decision was right and just. 

I knew I was going to have Theresa reveal a sub.  I personally don't really like being around other male subs too much while in subspace, so I went with the cheap lesbian fantasy and created B even though I knew it wouldn't appeal at all to some readers.  As of this point I didn't have the rest of the arc planned.  I wanted to portray a B as someone who was pure and good and just... someone you would want to protect.  e.g. even if you weren't a dominant, or if you were a heterosexual Domme, I wanted a character that felt "fragile" enough to where you might consider taking her simply to protect her from falling in with the wrong kind of male Dom. 

B ended up becoming the most important supporting character of the arc.  While normally timid and shy, she had a fire just below the surface.

I put the arc progression up for a vote and people chose the more difficult but emotionally rooted choice.  I followed the suggestion and went along with it.  I already had in mind what I would do if that was the route that I went.  I never had any intention of killing Cassandra.  That would have hit me too close to home. 

Creating Brianna was necessary for this path.  I wanted her to be the fear of kinksters everywhere: a white person with money, conservative values, judgement in her eyes, and a wicked tongue.  As much as we try to insulate ourselves from these types, they are still the constant fear that we try to avoid.  Their words still hurt no matter how much we have prepared ourselves for them.

I felt that fs would need someone to be his pillar through this.  Someone who's nature didn't care about appearances, politicking, or pleasantries, someone that only cared about right and wrong.  The first time I wrote a B outburst, I wasn't sure if it was just for contrast or shock value, but that cemented it. 

I didn't give her a clear physical description aside from being "tiny," but I pictured her as someone that was about 4'9" and maybe 85-90 lbs.  My final debate was in the collaring scene, whether to have her skin be pure or to give her scars.  I teetered with this since I didn't want to conflict with her introduction in Part 9, but it sat consistent with the current state of her character:  I was abused before, I chose to stay in the lifestyle, I will never again standby and watch anyone be hurt unjustly ever again. 

She didn't need to monitor her own behavior and try to behave with delicacy.  This became a very useful tool in progressing the story but it probably also stunted some of the dialogue into 2 word phrases that may have been a conversational give/take had it been with Lisa or Theresa instead.  

My feelings are very mixed as I reflect.  I feel like this was a bit sophomoric... which makes total sense.  Not following a set of pre-determined fantasies made it a lot more difficult.  I hope that people at least found it interesting.   

I got the idea for arc 3 while writing the early parts of Part 15.  I thought about seeing if people could pick it up, but I put it out there plain as day at the end.  I have no clue if/when I will start writing this arc.  I may sit back and read feedback on this arc first.  If people enjoy my writing, I will keep going. 

I do plan on finishing the last arc 1 bonus chapter soon (maybe even tonight).  That chapter was originally slated to occur between Parts 6 and 7 but I felt it broke the trend of escalating intensity so I omitted it. 

Fiction: fs01 - Part 16

Author's Note:
This takes place roughly a month after Part 15.  I apologize if there is any tense switching and passive sentences early on, it makes the early part much easier to write if I don't have to worry about it.  Sorry for the lack of dialogue on this one.  It just didn't feel like it had a good spot to "jump in" with it. 

I wonder if it's coincidence that Arc 2 ended up as 8 parts as well.


It's been a month since Mistress got out of the hospital.  Her recovery has been slow but steady.  Her internal injuries were severe but her body continues to heal and gain strength.  Theresa has been busy with suing the drunk driver's insurance company.  The other driver died.  0.26 BAC.  Theresa was also kind enough to take care of my brief time as a youtube sensation.  A few threats that I was recorded without consent and they were gone, although the memory would remain.

I have been caring for Mistress every day.  The hospital asked me not to show up dressed that way anymore.  I apologized to them and was back with sweat pants and a sweatshirt as originally planned.  I waited to tell her what happened until after she was back home and strong enough to walk on her own.  She cried.  That turned to anger.  Mistress severed all ties to her family and had Theresa file legal documents blocking them from interfering in the future.

We have had many visitors over the past month.  Mistress has lots of friends that think quite highly of her.  Some of them even traveled from Europe just to see her and wish her well.  This makes me happy.  I was even happier when I learned that they all knew of me and told me how Mistress would gush with pride when talking about me.

Theresa, B, and Lisa have been regulars during Mistress's recovery.  Dominique has stopped by a few times as well.  It feels like everyone is getting closer.  Tragedy tends to do that.

Mistress and I talk a lot every day.  During her recovery we have been off protocols.  I beg her to take me to work with her from now on.  If something like this ever happens again I want to be with her and if she dies, I want to die with her.  It's a little morbid, but she smiles when I tell her this.  She jokes about keeping me chained under her desk for foot rubs and "stress relief."  I can see the gears turning.  She even jokes about employing a cadre of unpaid male slave interns that would cut down on everyone's workload and allow her to give them all raises.  Mistress's shop currently only employs women.  Jokes are funniest when they hold some truth.  I know her gears are turning.

Mistress inspects my scars.  She asks me if I want to have them removed with plastic surgery.  I tell her that while they make me self-conscious, they are badges of devotion and I will leave the decision up to her.  Every day I love her more.  I cherish every minute being with her.

I tell her I love her so many times she threatens to take away my speech privileges.  Once an hour is my limit.  On the hour I bow and kiss her feet and confess the depth of my love.  This makes her smile and fills my heart with joy.

Finally Mistress is well enough to get back into her regular routine.  She puts me back in uniform.  Protocols return.  I feel at home and more importantly, at peace.  This is happiness for me. 

A couple of days later, Dominique throws Mistress a party.  Mistress dresses up in a fur-trimmed evening gown with a fur boa and boots.  She does her hair and make-up.  She is stunning.  It makes me weak in the knees to see her.

We arrive at Dominique's that night.  Sammy greets us at the door.  We are the last to arrive.  Apparently our invitation said 30 minutes later than the others.  Theresa, B, Lisa, and her husband John are in attendance.  Everyone is dressed up. 

John's eyes wander all over the place, his eyebrows constantly arching.  I think he's surprised to see men sissified in locking leather maid's dresses.  I think he's equally surprised that everyone else treats this as normal.

I stay glued to Mistress's side.  Her perfume intoxicates me.  I smile remembering Dominique's comforts.  Mistress approaches everyone one by one.  She thanks them all personally for everything they did for her and for me.  She even thanks Sammy and Gordon.

Sammy and Gordon serve dinner.  Pizza.  A few people are surprised.  I smile.  That's so like Dominique.  The pizza really is very good.  She flew in a cook from New York for tonight to make authentic New York style pizza.  That's so like Dominique.

Mistress asks Dominique to do her Ahnold in front of everyone.  This is the first time I see Dominique blush.  She reacts as I expect, with exaggerated motions and citing that she will if she can shoot my scrotum with her air soft gun.  This makes Mistress laugh.  The keys to my belt are at home.  I feel relief. 

After dinner Mistress makes a toast.  She thanks everyone again.  Her gift to them is a trip for an Alaskan cruise.  Dominique, Theresa and B, and Lisa and John will have suites.  She also tells everyone to design their own coat for the trip and the shop will make it for them since it will be cold.  I squeeze her hand.  Sammy, Gordon, and I will be sharing a quaint little economy coach class room that conveniently has 3 bunks and is buried in the lowest deck of the ship.  She tells me not to worry about designing my coat, there's already one in the works.  I shiver a little.

After desert and drinks we all depart to the dungeon.  As we cross the gate things change.  Torches on the wall provide our light.  John's head darts and dashes with sensory overload.  Lisa and John have been role-playing in the bedroom.  His reaction tells me "shit just got real," at least in his own head.   

In the center of the dungeon are 3 thrones, 1 at the head, and 1 on either side facing in.  Theresa, Dominique, and Mistress each take a chair.  I kneel next to Mistress.  Sammy and Gordon kneel next to Dominique.  There are extra chairs for Lisa and John but they prefer to stand.  B stands in the center.  A cloak covers her body.

B loosens the ties at her neck.  The cloak drops to the floor.  She stands naked before us with her arms crossed over her chest.  Her back shows the remnants of scars.  Whip marks.  They resemble mine but hers have faded with time.  I want to hug her.  She approaches Theresa's throne with her head down and kneels.

"Mistress Theresa, I present to you my heart, my body, and my soul to keep forever.  Please accept my gifts and service."

Theresa's eyes show signs of tears.  Mistress sniffles a little.  Dominique smiles.  She passes a box to Theresa.  Theresa opens the box and removes a collar.  It's leather and lined with fur with a ring on the front.

"B, I accept your gifts and accept you into my service.  I promise to love you and protect you and watch over you forever."

Theresa reaches down and places the collar around B's neck and closes the buckle.  B places her head on Theresa's lap. Mistress places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

A while later we return upstairs.  I hear Lisa answering John's barrage of never-ending questions.  B is back in her cloak but makes sure her collar is visible.  She's glowing.  Theresa is too.

I approach B and hand her an envelope.  She opens it and reads my letter.  She blushes.

"Dear, Miss B.

The strength of your heart is awe-inspiring.  You are a force of nature hidden away in an adorable tiny little body.  I knew it was only a matter of time before Miss Theresa would see your strength and the depth of your love and accept it.  I am so very happy for you.

The past month has been rough on all of us.  Thank you so very much for being there for me.  I couldn't have gotten through this without you.

Your friend,


B gives me a hug.  I hug her back.

I hear voices in the distance.  First John and Lisa.
"So what is that B girl into?"
"She's a bondage Queen.  She loves heavy bondage.  Theresa tells me she's also very adept at both giving and receiving if you know what I mean."
"You mean going down?"
"Do I have to spell everything out for you?"
Dominique chimes in, "Theresa says her tongue is even better than fur's."  My submissive ego winces.

More voices.  In another part of the room I hear Theresa.
"Unpaid slave interns Cass?  That might be doable.  Let me think about how we could go about that."



Still frustrated with the lack of mobile posting support... and for the past few days my blog posts are taking 8-12 hours to show up on the blog stream.  Not really a big deal, but if you use that to see when new blogs are posted like I do, it's just frustrating.

I also made a screw up earlier.  I found a typo in a post that I had been working on as a draft and accidentally selected the wrong one and reverted it to draft and then republished it so it may show up as a new entry again.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 15

Author's note:
This takes place the Friday after Part 14.


I'm nervous.  I'm excited.  I'm anxious.  I haven't seen Mistress since that first day.  I long for her.  I love her.  I haven't been there to hold her hand.  I hold a bag with my man clothes in it.  Theresa instructed me to bring it.  She has the keys to my locks as well.  She really plans ahead, just like Mistress.

B paces nervously back and forth.  She's looking adorable.  The black leather cat suit contours to her, complete with gloves and knee high platform boots.  Her hair and make up compliment her well.  She's brave.

Theresa's phone rings.  "Yes.  10 minutes."  She hangs up.
"Time to leave.  You should get a little practice on the way to the car."
I nod at her.  I hand my leash to B.  B starts to walk.  When she is several paces ahead of me I follow.  I keep my head down.  B's outfit and the boots make her strides feel exceptionally long today.  I move faster to hold pace.  She holds up her hand.  I stop. 

The car ride feels longer the closer we get.  My heart rate climbs.  I feel agitated.  Anything for Mistress.  Reality sets in.  This was easy to agree with when I heard about it.  Now I feel just just how unpleasant this will really be.  Brianna's mean spirit is the gift that keeps on giving.  Mistress.  I'm suffering to be with you.

We arrive at the hospital.  Theresa drops us off at the front door.  Brianna is outside.  B departs the car first.  I follow her.  I pass her the leash.  Her face is as red as mine.  B begins our rehearsed walk.  Brianna trails us.  She's already laughing.  We enter the doors and everyone's eyes manage to find us.  Whispers.  Pointing.  Some laughs.

We head down the hallway to the elevators.  Medical personnel, visitors, nurses, a crowd soon circles behind us.  A half a dozen cell phone rise and click.  I want to die.  Mistress.  I love you.  The elevator dings and opens.  Everyone in the world is going to the same floor we are.  It feels like every woman in the hospital is here.  No one speaks to us.  Plenty speak of us.  Whispers.  Giggles.  B throws them wicked stares.  I keep my head down and my eyes closed.  My face burns.  The 3 floor ride feels like days.  More photos click.  More whispers.  "Don't worry, I'm taking a video."   "That's a great idea."

Mistress, I'm suffering.  Please come back to me.  We move as a herd down the hall.  Like a snowball, the farther we roll the larger we get.  Surrounded by all angles.  A glimpse of the pathetic fur sissy and his owner.  My stomach twists and turns.  Phones ding.  This is obviously being shared.  Viral.  A hospital is such a perfect setting.  I feel diseased.

The hall seemingly extends for miles.  A brave nurse with phone in hand steps forward.  Her video is rolling.  "What are your names?"  We remain silent.  The herd stops us and boxes us in.  The mob steps in. "Yeah, tell us your names."  B attempts to press onward but they refuse to budge.  Fingers pinch my cheeks.  My face burns.  Names names names. 

A voice quiets them.  It's Brianna.
"The crying boy in the fag suit is named 'fur sissy.'  The tiny dominatrix here is called B."
"Are those their real names?" The crowd wants to know.
"Real enough, aren't they?"

Bodies part and B keeps walking, quickening her pace.  The crowd continues to follow, footsteps thumping, the herd rumbles.  We arrive at the room.  Brianna stands outside.  She's wearing dark glasses and with a silk scarf wrapped around her head, concealing her hair and much of her face. 
"Not yet.  Bitch toy.  Take the fag over your knee and spank him.  Then you can come in."
 She points to a visitors bench.  My chest heaves up and down.

B stands her ground.  Hatred fills her eyes.  I place my hand on her shoulder and whisper.
"B, this will be worse for me than for you.  I can handle it if you can." 
She nods. 

B sits down on the wooden bench.  I take a deep breath.  Mistress.  My resolve is strong.  I gently climb over her lap.  I've never been happier to be in panties.  Theresa thinks of everything.  I'm so used to the uniform that I could have been arrested for exposure if not for her. 

I try to block out the insults and jeers from the crowd.  B takes one arm by the wrist and pins it behind my back.  She pushes it up until I groan and holds it form.  She's surprisingly strong.  With her other hand she begins to spank me.  She obviously knows her stuff.  Smack. This is the warm up.  Smack.  I twitch with each impact.  Smack.  I can feel the blood rushing to my bottom. 

B picks a spot on one cheek.  She raises her arm.  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  My whimpers being halfway through her barrage and continue until she stops.  The other cheek.   Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  Tears well up in my eyes.  SMACK SMACK, rub.  SMACK SMACK, rub.  My bottom burns.  I feel it swell.  SMACK SMACK SMACK, rub.  I cry out.  SMACK SMACK SMACK, rub.  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  I howl and start to bawl.  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  Sobs.  The tears flow freely.  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  I twitch and twist on top of her.  She tightens her grip on my wrist and presses.  I groan.  Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  I wail and whimper. 

The voices from the crowd have changed. 
"That's enough, Look at him, he's crying."   My tear covered face continues to shine red. 
Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  I shriek.  My blurred vision sees the bodies begin to thin out.  It's too much for the to watch. 
Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.  I cry.  B hits quite hard and fast. 

"Fine, that's enough," says Brianna.  "Go see your Mistress, you pervert."

I climb down from B's lap.  She's shaking.  Her eyes are full of tears.  She hugs herself with her arms.  I reach out my hand.  She takes it.  As she stands I throw my arms around her and embrace her.  I pet her head.  She cries into my chest.  B is brave. 

We part and enter Mistress's room.  She's looking better.  The swelling of her face is down.  There are far fewer machines connected to her.  Her face is peaceful. 

I rush to her bedside and drop to my knees.  I take her hand in mine and press it to my face.  My tears flow again. 

"Mistress, I've missed you so much.  Mistress.  I love you so much.  Please come back to me."
I kiss her hand and hold it against my lips.  I weep. 
"Mistress, I came to you today ready to serve you.  Your pet is here, Mistress.  I love you."
I take her fingers and press them through the ring on my collar.  I shake it around, jingling metal on metal with her fingers around it. 
"Mistress, please come back to me, your pet needs you." 

I place the leash in her hand, wrapping it a few times around her wrist. I gently tug against it. 
"Mistress, my wife.  I love you.  You are the love of my life.  You are my everything.  My Queen.  My Goddess.  You are the keeper of my soul.  I will do anything for you.  Please don't leave me." 

I give another tug against the leash.  Her finger twitches.  Her hand slowly closes around it.  It slowly rises.  She rubs the fur on my earmuff.  I look up at her.  Her eyes are open.  A gentle smile.  So warm.  I kiss her hand over and over.  I press it to my face.  I laugh behind my tears.  I beam a smile back at her.  My swollen eyes are tired but happy.  I love you, Mistress. 


Fiction: fs01 - Part 14

Author's Note:  This takes place shortly after Part 13.


I sleep very little that night.  The strap on wedged inside me throbs.  The bruising of my rear throbs.  The pillow case makes it hard to breathe.  My body aches.  My heart aches.  Mistress.  I love you.

Some noises startle me.  I fight against my bonds.  No use.

"Oh my God, fur!  What happened?"
It's Theresa.  She's here to save me.  The pillow case slides off my head.

"This is going to hurt, fur."  I shout in pain as she rips the tape off.  I feel some hands on my legs.

"fur sissy, please relax as much as you can."

It's B.  I force my body to calm.  I feel a pull.  I yell as it slides out.  It fades out as my tears fade in.

"fur, who did this to you?"  asks Theresa.
"Brianna..." I mumble.  I'm exhausted.  I hurt everywhere.
"She was here?"
"She was here when I got back.  She saw me dressed and told me if I didn't..."
"Where are the keys, fur?"
"I don't know."

They tear apart the room.  I hear clattering and rustling.  Everything gets moved.

"I can't find the keys.  Are the bolt cutters in the garage?"
"Yes, but they're locked in a locker... needs a key."
"That bitch."

Theresa picks up her phone.  B rubs lotion on my sore bottom and begins massaging my muscles.

I hear the phone dial out on speaker.
"Brianna?  Where are you?  What did you do?  I need you to get over here right now."
"Christ, Theresa, calm the fuck down.  I was just leaving my hotel and was on my way there."

The phone clicks.  We spend the next few minutes in silence.  B lays on the bed with me, her arm over my back.  Theresa sits near the head of the bed, her hand on my head.

The doorbell rings and the door opens.  Footsteps.  Brianna enters the room.

"Where's the fire, Theresa?"
"The keys.  Where are they?"
"Straight to the point, as always."

She retrieves the keys from her pocket and throws them to Theresa.  Theresa catches them and begins working on the locks.  She releases the chain and then goes directly for the locking buckle.

"So Cass locks him into that fag suit?  Cute.  So what did he tell you?"
"He hasn't told us anything."
"Oh, good boy."  Her sarcasm rings through clear as day.  When the locks are removed B helps me out of the dress and harness.
"Who's the midget?"
"That's B."
"B? Were A, C, and D taken?"

B stomps over to her and shoves her waist.  Brianna barely moves.
"Is it okay to have kids around all these sex toys?"
"SHUT UP!" B shouts.  I've never seen her this mad.
"Sorry, little girl, I barely noticed you."
"I belong to Mistress Theresa!"
"Mistress Theresa?  I never pictured you as a pervert.  A dyke and a pedophile too?  With Cass's taste in men, I guess it makes sense she has bad taste in friends, too."
"SHUT UP!" B shouts again.  Tears stream down her face.  "I'm 29!"
"At 29 I think you'd have learned some manners by now, little girl.  I guess being Theresa's bitch toy must be taking its toll."

"B, stop."  Theresa finally speaks.  B retreats to her side and grabs her suit coat.

I'm quaking with anger but I'm afraid to speak.  Theresa is angry too, she hides it better than most.

"fag boy, what's that on your back?"  I freeze.  She sees the scars.  Brianna walks toward the bed.  I cross my arms over my chest.  I can sense her eyes tracing me up and down. I spend most of my days feeling self-conscious but this feels awful.

"Did Cass do this to you?"
"No, Ma'am."
"How did you get them?"  I remain silent.
"How did you get them?"

B shouts, "Leave him alone!  He got kidnapped by a mean lady and she tortured him."
"Kidnapped by a lady?  Are you some kind of pussy?  Never mind, I already know the answer to that."
B continues, "You're terrible.  If you spent 1 day with him, just 1 day, you'd understand."
"Is that a challenge?"
"B, calm down.  Brianna, back off," Theresa attempts to defuse the situation.
"Oh, I'm perfectly calm, Theresa.  Your pet midget has a lot of heart.  What is the challenge little girl?"  B bites her lip.
"Spend 1 day with him.  Do anything you want except hurt him."
"It will have to be tomorrow.  I'm going to stop by the hospital and then I'm meeting some old friends for dinner and drinks.  Have him ready in his fag suit first thing tomorrow.  I'll be expecting the full treatment."  
Brianna leans forward and whispers in my ear.
"I'll bet that sissy little ass cunt of yours isn't so tight anymore, is it?"  I cringe and shed a tear.

Brianna departs the room, leaving us behind.

The rest of the day drags.  I'm a ghost.  Theresa and B do their best to comfort me.  Theresa has been busy on the phone, managing the shop and Mistress's affairs.

"fur, I have to go to the shop tomorrow.  I will have Lisa and B here to chaperone and make sure Brianna doesn't go too far.  Is that okay?"
"Yes, Miss Theresa.  Thank you so much."  I cry.
"What's wrong, fur?"
"She's never going to let me see Mistress.  I miss her."
"fur, just be yourself.  There was a time when I felt similar to her.  You were a large part of changing that.  Believe in yourself and your love."
"Thank you, Miss Theresa."

They spend the night, sleeping in Mistress's bed.  I lay on the bearskin rug next to the bed.  I can't sleep so I think instead. I can sense how much closer they have grown to each other.  I believe Theresa can no longer resist B's natural charms.  I press Mistress's robe to my face and smell it.  Tears well up.  I miss her.  I love her.  My Mistress.  Please come back to me.  I doze off with these thoughts in my heart.

Morning arrives early.  I'm instructed to groom as if I was grooming for Mistress.  When I finish, B helps me into my uniform.  She's familiar with the straps and buckles from the first time we met her.  Lisa arrives soon after.  I haven't seen her in weeks.  She hugs me and comforts me.  This has been hard on her as well.  Lisa is aware of what is going on.

I prepare them breakfast.  Lisa instructs me to make an egg and 2 pieces of toast with butter for myself.  Theresa adds to prepare the same for B.  I serve their food at the table.  B joins me and we eat next to them, on the floor.  I wonder if this company would be possible if Mistress were here.  Mistress.  I miss you. 

After breakfast I do the dishes and Theresa departs for work.  Shortly after, the doorbell rings.  I move to answer it.  Lisa and B accompany me.

Brianna is already standing inside when I arrive.  She stands with her hands on her hips.  I approach her and bow.

"So I'm here for the 'full treatment.'  What do I do now?" she asks.  Lisa steps in.
"Allow him to remove your coat and shoes.  Tell him if you would like a guest robe and slippers."
"You must be the assistant.  Are you a pervert too?  I'll bet Cass likes to take you with a strap on and leave it in you, or is that just a stick up your butt?"

Lisa looks furious.  Her teeth clench.  She fights the urges.
"Don't you ever insult Miss Cassandra in that way."
"'Miss Cassandra?' That answers my question.  Fag boy, take my coat and shoes.  I'll take a guest robe and slippers as well."  I nod and help her out of her coat.  I hang it in the closet.  I kneel and remove her show.  She kicks me in the cheek with her bare foot.  My eye waters.  It hurts. 

"Touch my skin again and you'll get another."
I carefully remove her other shoe and place them neatly in the closet.  I help her into a guest robe.  I'm very careful with the slippers not to touch her.

Brianna points at B, who almost has steam coming out of her ears.
"Little girl, fetch some lengths of chain and some locks."  Brianna holds out her hands indicating her desired length.

We reconvene in the living room.  Lisa and Brianna sit on opposite corners of the couch.  B sits on the love seat by herself with her hands on her knees.  Brianna waves her hand at me.  I approach.

She connects my wrists together with a 12 inch chain running through the ring on my belt.  This isn't the first time I've experienced this.  I hate only being able to extend one arm at a time.  A 12 inch chain connects my ankles.  This will be a long day.

"So now what do I do?" Brianna asks in Lisa's direction.
"Relax and allow yourself to be pampered.  If you want anything, order him to do it.  He won't speak unless you order him to."

Her eyes pierce mine.  Her words are cold and emotionless.
"Impress me today, boy, or I will make sure you will NOT see Cassandra.  Coffee.  2 creams 2 sugars.  Now."

I bow and scurry from the room.  The chains make things difficult.  Every step is tiny and I have to worry about tripping.  I plan every action beforehand with my hands.  I return to the room.  With great care I hold up a silver tray with her coffee.  This is difficult.  I will see you, Mistress.

Brianna drinks and uses the tray as her coffee table.   She sighs.

"I'm bored.  What kind of pampering?"
"You could order him to give you a foot rub."
"fag, give me a foot rub."

I nod and carefully set the tray upon the actual coffee table.  Kneeling with such a short chain is difficult.  I crouch with my legs spread as far as they will go.  I brace for what I know will hurt.  I rock forward and slam down on my knees.  I clench my teeth to weather the pain in my knee caps. I shuffle closer to Brianna.  She holds out her foot.  I lean my torso and extend my chained hands as far as they will go.

Pain.  Brianna's kick lands squarely on my cheek.  She takes her other leg and shoves my shoulder back.  I lose balance and topple backward landing with a crash.
"You really aren't very bright, are you?  Like I'd ever let a pervert like you touch me.  I'm sure you jerk off all the time thinking about feet."

I struggle back onto my knees.  This takes a few tries.

"I've changed my mind.  I'd like to read.  Be a dear and fetch that book from the top shelf.  The one with the red binding."

My head swivels to the bookcase that is embedded in the wall.  The top shelf is high.  She can't even read the bindings from there.  I nod and struggle to my feet.  Several hops and topples later I'm standing at the book case.  I slide a chair to the bookcase and get onto it my knees.  My hands grab its back and I press myself up.  With my arm fully extended I'm still at least a foot under the red book.

I begin to pull the larger hardcover books from the lower shelves.  I eye them up and climb down.  I stack the books evenly one by one.

"fur, you don't have to do this."  It's Lisa.  She is kind.
"fur? You call him fur?"
"fur sissy, it's our nickname for him since he normally goes by 'fs.'"

Brianna bursts into laughter.
"fur sissy!  That's terrific.  Such a fitting name for a cock sucker."
Her laughs continue to cut me.  If Dominique's laughs are scary and maniacal cries of pleasure, Brianna's are hurtful and made from pure malice. 

I attempt to scale the mountain of books on the chair.  I piled them too high.  The chair wobbles as I try to lift myself.  Hope.  I manage to pull my feet up.  I plant my feet and begin to rise.  I feel the book slide.

The room spins as I fall.  My chin hits the chair back.  I feel my ribs on the arm.  Stars.  I'm on my back on the floor.  B kneels next to me.
"fur! Are you okay?" Lisa doesn't hide her concern.

A voice cuts through me.
"Oh no, poor 'fur sissy' fell down.  I'm still waiting for my book.  I thought you were obedient."

B talks in quiet gentle voice.  "You don't have to do this."
Our eyes meet.  I shake my head.  I am determined.  I want to be with Mistress.  I turn over, straighten the chair, and begin to rebuild the stack of toppled books.  I do it better this time, thinking about the friction of the covers and their mass.

I make another ascent.  I plant my feet and rise.  The chair starts to wobble.  B braces it with her hands.

"Bitch toy.  He's a big boy, let him do it himself."

B releases the chair and stares daggers at Brianna.   I'm a few inches short.  I shift one foot onto the chair's arm and stretch with my entire body.  The chair shakes.  Almost there.  Almost there.  I press the adjacent books deeper in order to grasp it.  My fingers close tightly.

The chair falls out from under me.  I yank the book and fall after it.  I land awkwardly on my back across the front of the seat.  My legs are numb.  It hurts.  The book is mine.  Mistress.  Feeling slowly returns to my body.  I throb in pain.

"fur!  Why are you doing this?"
"Isn't it obvious, Lisa?  He's a pathetic loser who can only get bossed around by women."
"You're holding this over him!  He's willing to sacrifice everything just to see Miss Cassandra.  You're making him suffer and hurt to do this."
"It's his choice, isn't it?"

Lisa quiets down.  She can't argue with that.

B lifts my head.  She has tears in her eyes.  I smile at her.  She helps me up off the heap of books.  I turn onto my knees and crawl toward the couch.  I present the book to her. 

"I just wanted to read what the title was.  You can put it back now.  And clean up the rest of the mess."

B's voice fills the air. 

"You're awful!  Your heart is ugly and twisted!  You're a terrible bitch and I want you to burn in hell!"
She's crying.

"That's quite a mouth you have on you, little girl.  Maybe Theresa should wash your mouth out with soap.  Your manners are terrible.  You have a long way to go before you can be just like your pathetic little idol 'fur sissy.'"
"SHUT UP!  He has more love in his toenail than you do in your entire body!"

Brianna's expression changes.
"Love?  You want to talk to me about love?  I love men.  This pathetic sack of shit is not a man.  My husband is a man and I love him.  Men have to take charge and take a woman.  This little display is a pathetic insult to love.  This might be his own little version of love, but no one will ever love him."

"Oh, did I touch a nerve, little girl?  I forgot that you do these same pathetic attempts for that dyke, Theresa."
"SHUT UP!"  B wails.

"I was going to put little 'fur sissy' through a whole day of this and then let him see 'his beloved Mistress,' but I've changed my mind.  She might really die, so it would be too cruel of me to deny him completely.  I'll let him see her, but..."

My heart rises.

"He'll do so wearing his little fag suit.  And you little miss bitch, will be with him.  You can lead him through the hospital on a leash while wearing a leather cat suit and boots.  If you won't do that, then she'll just die alone, without him.  Those are my conditions."
"You really are a terrible person, Brianna," says Lisa.

I exhale.  I'm hit with a mix of relief and fear.  B cries harder.
"Do you have one of those, little bitch?"  B shakes her head no.
"Well then little 'fur sissy' is just out of luck, isn't he?"
"She'll have one by Friday, Brianna."
"Then Friday it is.  I'll be waiting at the hospital.  I want to watch.  If you don't do this, he'll never get through the door of her room."

Brianna stands from the couch.
"This has bored me.  I'll be leaving now."  She exits the room and a few moments later we hear the front door.

I shuffle on my knees over to B.  I try to embrace her by my hands won't reach.  She throws her arms around my neck and cries.

A few minutes later Lisa removes the locks and frees me from my uniform.  Lisa spends the next hour making phone calls.  B's cat suit will be ready by Friday.

My body is bruised and aching.  Lisa and B watch over me.  They are kind.  Friday. Mistress.  I love you.  My Queen.  My Goddess. 


The Line between Punishment and Play

About a week or so ago I made a semi-frustrated post about Dommes thinking it's a good idea to withhold D/s as a punishment instead of using a D/s punishment.  I still stand by that I hate that idea being used casually and if ever, it should only be used as a means of last resort to ahow the seriousness of thr situation.

As my random thoughts and memories drift in and out, I got to thinking about my time with F and it reminded me of a few related matters.

When I was with F she would routtinely take me over her knee or lap for a spanking or paddling.  Hand, hair brush, paddle, etc.  I was almost always naked when this happened and she would pinch my penis between her thighs to hold me down.  Sometimes additional restraints were used, other times not.  Around this time there were very few Femdom resources and the majority of written reaources basically stated that all subs were masochists.

This notion seemed to support the easy out "stop playing" punishment.  I just don't understand how either idea was ever accepted blindly.

Even so, I'm of the belief that with sufficient creativity and resourcefulness, ANYTHING can be made to be unpleasant.  There is a "punishment form" of any kinky activity that can turn a dream fantasy into a nightmare.

I am not a masochist.  F knew this.  She knew that taking me naked over her knee would keep me aroused by humiliation, status, and helplessness.  Her solution was simple.  Hit me until I go limp, then the punishment starts.

If a masochist gets turned on by more pain, then work a different angle.  Beat him in a chastity device.  Humiliate him.  Isolate him in time out.  There are 1000 solutions to this relatively easy problem to solve.

I live in a fairly good sized metro area.  ~6 million within a 30 mile radius or so.  If you browsed our area on collarme and looked at profiles active within 6 months there were around 120k submissive men seeking Dommes, around 40k submissive women, 2200 male Doms, and roughly 200 Dommes.  If you removed the Dommes that weren't looking, this cut it down to 80.  I found those figures to be skmewhat absurd.  F told me about a local Domme that just couldn't keep a sub.  6 weeks on average, 4-6 months max.  I saw her profile before when I was searching and she wasn't bad looking.  That sort of blew my mind.

She happened to be at a munch that F and I were at and I overheard her talking to others... well, more like ranting to others.  She would proudly announce that she would cut off play if a sub ever acted out.  No talking about it, no communication, just flip the D/s switch off.  Since "all subs are masochists so this is he best form of punishment."  "Why beat them if it will just turn them on."  Everything became clear.  Strip someone of their needs at the drop of a hat.  Cut off communication.  Make generalized assumptions without getting to understand what makes them tick.  That's a recipe for success, right?  :p

The numbers dictated that she could have a new guy every week, but deep down I think she was hoping for more.  The whole thing just made me kind of sad.

Personal subspace? Is it unique?

With this post I'm not referring to specific kinks or fetishes.  I am thinking about subspace and its associated feelings.  Just as feeling "happy" is caused by many different reasons in many different people, the basic feeling of "happy" or "joy" is usually described similarly.  The same can be said of sadness, varying causes for similar feelings.

I tend to view subspace as a spectrum.  You have your shallow emd and your deep end.  I believe that subs tend to crave a "comfort zone" within this spectrum that generally matches up with their desires, kinks, and fantasies.  For example, a sub that wants D/s in a "bedroom only" environment likely lingers in the shallow end.  A sub that craves intense and depersonalized TPE type slavery falling into the deeper end.  I believe the majority of subs fall between the extremes, probably somewhere between the 25% and 75% marks of those two extremes.

There are quite a bit of reaources out there describing subspace but the majority of the popular resources are focused upon female subs.  I'm not going to try and argue the differences between submission by gender, but I have found the sexual and paychological connections are frequently wired a bit differently for subs falling in the middle half of the spectrum.

As for male subs... I pretty much have myself as a reference point.  I have been told many times over that I'm "different" than most, but I rarely get a complete answer as to how or why so I have no clue if my views represent "most subs."

What I notice is that the deprh of my subspace shifts quite a bit based upon actions, environment, strictness, and so on.  I'm guessing this is quite common.  Mild dominance = mild subspace.  Intense dominance = deeper subspace.

For the "shifters" out there, or Dommes who have experience with subs that shift and adapt as needed, do you find the submissive personality changes when you are pushed sufficiently deep?

I find that in its shallow form, I'm basically an attentive amd doting boyfriend that notices everything and focuses my attention upon her.  I cam converse, have a strong sense of humor, tease a bit, and am quite functional.  In these cases I connect to bondage and body worship as my deiving factors.

As I progress deeper, things change quite a bit.  My thoughts adjust so that I am no longer included in them, e.g. "What would she like?"  "What would make her happy?" And so on.  There is no "I" anymore.  In this middle state I can anticipate needs, take care of anything without complaint and abide by whatever rules she sets out.  In these cases I connect to domestic servitude, corporal punishment, CFNM, and the like.

At my deepest levels, everything changes.  My persona basically strips down to 3 emotions: fear, remorse, and love.  I love her and will do anything for her.  I fear her and what she will do to me If I disappoint her.  I feel remorse upon disappointing her and receiving punishment.   My entire sense of morality changes: right and wrong become pleases her and displeases her.  While this deep I can barely speak.  My voice is tiny and timid.  I require rituals to act "independently" but require commands or instructions for just about anything else.  All I can think about is her and pleasing her.  In these cases I connect strongly to humiliation, speech and eye contact restrictions, rituals, pain, and helplessness.  
Another interesting aspect is that the kinks I that affect me most profiundly are not what I connect to while in a "comfort zone," they are the things that pull me out of a comfort zone and force me deeper down the spectrum.

Is this normal?  Is this different?  Any thoughts or feedback?  There are times when I feel like I have 3-4 different subs inside of me.

As a random note, I refer to its depth because that's sort of what it feels like.  Being dragged into the depths, light slowly fading away, eventually surrounded by darkness at the bottom.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Fiction: fs01 - Part 13

Author's note:  This takes place a few hours after Part 12.


I walk in the front door.  The warmth of Dominique's home still wraps around me.  I head to the bedroom to change.

"Well, look at you."  A voice startles me.  Unfamiliar.  Fear.  Regret.  I should have changed my clothes back at Dominique's.

"I was curious to see what Cass's 'husband' was like.  With all the legal paperwork between you I would have guessed you were a retard or an invalid.  But here I just see a deviant."

My chest heaves.  I feel my blood go cold.

"We haven't met.  The family disowned her when she abandoned her practice and decided to give in to her perverted urges and opened that shop."

Brianna.  She has similar features to Mistress but is a few years older.  I look around the room.  The drawers are all open.  The dresser is lined with every dildo, vibrator, and strap on in the room.  On the bed lie piles of chains and restraints.  On the floor, every whip, paddle, flogger, cane, crop, and strap.

"Try anything and I'll call the police.  I'm sure they'd have fun arresting a pervert like you.  I'm trained in Jii Jitsu and will have no problem taking you down.  We're going to have a little talk.  I'm going to ask questions.  You're going to give me answers.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."  I'm terrified.

"If you refuse to answer anything honestly I'll let the hospital that you're a pervert sexual predator and a sex offender."  I swallow.

Brianna holds up her phone and snaps a few pictures.
"These are for my peace of mind.  You might not care if they end up plastered all over the internet, but Cass might.  I'd suggest you not piss me off."

She's worse than Kimmy.  At least Kimmy never used blackmail.

"How does she tie you down to the bed?"
"There are straps with chains, Ma'am."
"Show me, and move slowly."

I make my way over to the bed, lifting each bedpost chain and placing it on the corner of the bed.
"Where are your restraints?"

I take one of the bondage rings in my fingers and show it to her.
"So that fag suit has restraints built in?  That makes things easier.  Get on the bed, face down.  Spread your arms and legs."

She shoves all of the items onto the floor.  I climb on and do as instructed.  She locks my wrists and ankles to the chains.  I'm helpless.  Brianna snaps a few more pictures.

"Letting your bare ass hang out like that.  You have no shame.  So which of these things hurts the worst?"
"The prison strap, Ma'am."
"Which one is that?"
"A long thick leather strap on a wooden handle."  I hear her rattle through the floggers and devices.
"Too heavy.  What is next?"
"I'm not sure, Ma'am, the rest depend upon how they're used."
"What gave you these bruises?"
"The fiberglass cane with the red handle, Ma'am."

I hear more rattling.  Swish, the cane whips back and forth through the air.

"What are you going to do to me?"
"Shut the fuck up.  You don't get to ask me anything."

Smack.  The cane lands on my buttocks.  I scream.

"Why are you dressed like that?"
"This is my maid's uniform, Ma'am.  Mistress requires that I wear it."
"By Mistress you mean, Cass, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am.  Cassandra."
"Why do you wear it?"
"Cassandra requires it, Ma'am."
"Do you like wearing it?"
"No, Ma'am.  It's embarrassing."
"So why do you wear it?"
"Cassandra requires it, Ma'am."
"Do you do everything Cass says?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"I love her, Ma'am."

Smack.  I cry out.

"So you let her dress you up and parade you around and you do whatever she tells you?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Cass always had bad taste in men."  I frown.

Smack.  I yelp.

"Where were you earlier?"
"I was at Cassandra's friend's house, Ma'am."
"What were you doing there?"
"She was trying to cheer me up, Ma'am."
"How did she do that?"
I pause.  Smack Smack.  I whimper.

"We watched a movie and ate pizza, Ma'am."
"What else?  Your pause told me there was more."
"We lay together on the couch, Ma'am."
"What else?"

"She introduced me to someone who was going through something similar, Ma'am."
"Half truths count as lies, asshole."

Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack, Smack.  I wail and sob.  Tears.
"What else?"
"She chained me up and tortured my nipples, Ma'am."  The tears flow.
"So not only are you a pervert, but you were cheating on Cass with another pervert?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"What makes you think you have the right to do that?"
"Cassandra gave her permission."
"How, she's in a coma?  What did she do, write you a letter before she went into a coma?"
"Yes, Ma'am.  It was a letter."

Smack, Smack, Smack.  I sob.
"Where is this letter?"
"On the nightstand, Ma'am."

Brianna picks up the letter and reads it.  She crumples it and throws it on the floor.  I whimper.

"I guess Cass is really convinced that the two of you are in love.  Two perverts, you're perfect for each other.  I take it when she's not fucking you up the ass you still love her?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I love her."
"Well, at least you can pretend to have manners."

She walks behind me to the far side of the room.  I hear lots of clattering and shifting along the dresser.  I hear faint cursing.

She appears in my peripherals.  I hear the rip of tape.  Her hand yanks on my head and she presses a length of duct tape over my mouth.  Another piece rips.  She layers it on.  Rip.  Stick.

"All these sex toys are too fucking complicated.  Have you ever been on video before, fag?  This will be my first sex tape, but I can assure you that the only one who will be identifiable is you."

My mouth screams in protest.  Mmmph.  Mmmph.  The tape does its job.  I struggle against the chains.  The sobbing resumes.

I feel the bottom of the bed sag.  Her hand against my sore red bottom.  I try to press my knees together.  I struggle.  The chains rattle and shake.  Tears fill my eyes.  Please, no.  No.  No.  No.

My hands curl into fists.  Cold silicon against my inner thigh.  I scream and I scream.  Nothing.

She presses it in.  I flail.  I weep and wail.  It hurts.  I tell myself this is for Mistress.  It still hurts.

She thrusts deeper.  My head pulls back.  I pull my arms against their restraints, anything to get away.  The ankle chains hold.  Sound escapes from below the layers of tape.

"What's the matter, fag?  I thought you liked this sort of thing."
She thrusts again.  My body tenses, fighting her off.  She wins.

Tears rain from my eyes.  Violation.  Pain.  Another thrust.  I try to scream.  Snot drips from my nose and mixes with the flow of tears down my face.  My breathing heaves, in and out through my nose.
Another thrust.  I bawl.  I shake my arms and legs in a final effort.  My back bends forcing my head as far back as it will go.

A harder thrust.  I drop limp to the bed.  She stops moving.  She's buried deep inside me.  It hurts.  I hear some rattling and I feel her weight shift on the bed.  She slides off the bed.  She left it inside me.  She holds the phone screen in front of my face and plays back the video.  I whimper watching the video of my rape.  All you can see is me and the base of the strap on.  I close my eyes, wishing it away.

This feels worse than usual.  No love.  No caring.  Only pain.

"I supposed if I had kept going that might have done something to me.  I'll never understand Cass's perversions.  If she found a real man she could just have sex."

I watch Brianna shake a pillow out of its case.  She pulls the pillow case over my head and gentle knots it under my chin.

"I'm tired of your face."

The click of her phone camera.  I hear some rustling behind me.  The light shuts off.  The front door closes in the distance.

I weep.  It hurts.  Mistress.  I love you.


I am attempting to be more social or something...

Juat throwing this out there but recently I've beem trying to reintegrate a bit more into the web again. I feel really old.  Everything is massively different from how things used to be.  The old standards are now like having a personal pager in the cell phone era.

One of the big joys I used to have was my old yahoo pingbox that basically let people contact me on yahoo messenger directly from my blog.  It felt nice to be able to directly connect with readers and get feedback upon articles, drawings, or just casual socializing.

After being in contact with some people who've stayed in "the now" I've tried to expand a little bit in social media.

If anyone is ever bored and wants to find me in those other places I've recently created a few accounts:
Fetlife username: furcissy (I'm still attempting to work up the courage to actually do something with my mostly blank profile and figuring out how to navigate).
Deviant Art username: fcsy (I promised a reader that I would post some artwork there but I'm still working up the courage to do so).
Kik messenger username: fursissy (The hipper youths informed me this is the common messenger now).

I do still hop on yahoo messenger and regularly check the emails in my blogger profile as well.

The current state of my mind

Ever since I wrote my Reflections series it has felt like my mind has been freed from a prison.  I had felt trapped in my brain for many years... while the 3.5 year depression had pinned me in, the true prison had been built up in my early teens, 20+ years ago. 

The best way to describe things is that any happy memories of my youth were blocked out.  All I could really feel were the painful ones.  This wasn't ordinary memory recall, this was some random trigger pulling up a memory in a flash and all of the associated feelings of pain and loss that accompanied them. 

An example: 
I had a favorite children's book when I was young.  I wanted it read to me almost every night.  Over and over, over and over.  I knew it almost by heart.  It still filled my heart and head with wonder.  I still longed to be a part of that experience.  These were happy experiences before my father changed, before my family collapsed and everything turned into an ugly pile of burning shit. 

If anything triggered a memory of the book, I would not remember any of those happy memories.  What I would remember is when I was 6 that my parents wanted to give it away.  They had given away many of my treasured possessions before and this was just another one of those.  I threw a tantrum and told them just to take anything and give all of it away and stormed out of the room.  When I returned, roughly 1/3rd of my toys, games, and books were gone.  This hurt.  A lot.  I hid in a private spot and cried for hours.  I never wanted to remember any of those things again so that I wouldn't have to remember losing them.

When I was in college, I was out to dinner with a friend of mine.  She was a bit random and funny, so she asked for a kids menu and some crayons.  She mentioned the name of the book and started drawing things from it.  I burst into tears.  They wouldn't stop.  I cried for 10 hours and ended up in bed for 3 weeks from a complete mental breakdown.  The last memory that I had before it started was a flash of one phrase:  "All of my happy memories are gone and I will never feel that way ever again."

This was an extreme example, but there was never any process, never any "I see something, I remember, I feel something, it makes me sad," sort of a thing.  I would just randomly see something, a flash in my brain of an image, and then I would be hit with a terrible wave of emotions that went along with the experience.  This plagued me for 20 years.  I trained myself to shrug the feelings off, citing them as "fake" and "inappropriate feelings for the moment."  They would still take their toll on my heart.

At this point I expect someone to be thinking: "Dude, why didn't you go on meds?"  I did.  While meds were able to block the impulses, they also took away a lot of my mental capacity and completely flattened my personality.  This happened with many of them.  I eventually just learned to manage things as best I could.  If I had stayed on meds, I can assure you that this blog never would have existed, nor would I have ever been able to experience the depth of emotions and intensity of love that I have over the years.

In the weeks following Reflections, something has changed.   The impulses still happen, but not as frequently:  maybe 3-5 a day instead of 5-10 times an hour.  I have started to regain happy memories.  When I recall something bad and the pain starts, I cry it out.  After that, I can look upon it and remember "that was painful when it happened," but I don't feel everything as if it was happening right now. 

This provides a lot of peace of mind, but at the same time, I'm starting to harbor some greater frustration with the way that I was raised.  The emptiness and lack of joy from accomplishing something isn't an attractive quality.  I see clearly that I've become narcissistic in many ways as a coping mechanism.  That makes me mad at myself as well.

I've been giving advice to a lot of subs lately about being open and honest with their Dommes.  My relationship with T has been very... distant for the past 4 years.  She had a tendency to "beat me down" when I would show vulnerability and it scared me a lot.  I would keep trying every week or two, testing to she if her ability to show warmth to me had returned.  Last night this led to an argument where she stone-walled me and then unleashed a barrage of terrible words with the intent of hurting me.  I let it go until she cooled off and tried again later.  She reacted similarly, saying things exactly in a way that she knew would make me cry.  I cried.  She belittled me for crying. 

I stuck to my guns.  I kept pressing.  She said "I don't want to talk about it, there's nothing to talk about, sometimes I just feel down."  When she stopped, I remained as calm as I could, and told her, "If you feel down, just say so, you don't have to tell me why.  Tell me you are down and I will be there to hug you and love you and be whatever you need me to be.  I'm not perfect, but I will give you all of my love and be there for you."  She finally let her guard down and hugged me back.

This process hurt like hell and took hours, but it also led to the best talk we have had in a long time and I felt connected to her more so than I had in a very long time.  I would gladly walk into attacks that will leave me feeling sad and broken if I can show her my love openly. 

Time out, hats, and thoughts

I talked about this a bit in my Reflections series Part 2 as well as a little bit in my Conditioned behaviors post a few weeks ago.  For some reason I feel like expanding.

K and F both used kneeling and time out extensively as punishments.  This was wat more effective on me as a submissive adult than it ever was at a child.  If the purpose of time out is to instill reflection and remorse through discomfort and loss of freedom, it worked quite well for me.

The longer I was isolated in time out, the worse I would feel.  My submissive thought process may have started out frustrated, resistant, or confused when I would enter.  After a few minutes I would find that my feelings would change.  I couldn't stay mad, etc.  My submission would increase and my brain would naturally find reasons why it was my fault and why I deserved this.  I would feel terrible and by the end, I would apologize and beg for forgiveness.

This would happen even if it was not my fault.

After K instituted the punishment hat it created an additional level of shame.  Not only did I feel terrible, but there was now a badge of shame adorning me and adding to my emotional discomfort.

When things started up with F, I had told her about the experiences and she continued them.  F would use time out and the punishment hat both for punishment and as an attitude or mood adjuster.  I wasn't submissive enough, so into the corner for 15 minutes.  I would emerge as submissive as she wanted me.  If I wasn't turned on enough by the D/s dynamic, into the corner.  She increased the stakes by adding restraints or more clothing to increase discomfort.

I think deep down that this is why the beanie hat and earmuffs come into play so heavily in my submission.  They are part of what drives my deeper levels of subspace.  Most fur fetishists would probably have preferred a hat.  Mine was a perversion of that and an attempt at maximum humiliation.  When I am dressed in them I feel terrible about myself.  I feel as submissive as can be.  I feel vulnerable and exposed.  I feel a tremendous amount of love for my Mistress.  I willingly accept the bad in exchange for the good.

I think I felt the need to share this in a direct and specific way since I know that I have some new readers who may not have gone through those posts.  I am well aware that I write huge amounts of text and digging through it can be a chore (or a joy if you see it that way).

Back when I was drawing heavily I had someone request for me to stop drawing the hats.  While I delved into some variations, they always returned.  This is why.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Fiction: fs01 - Part 12

Author's Note:  This takes place the day after Part 11.


Morning arrives.  I wake but feel paralyzed.  I lay in bed.  Mistress's robe presses against my body.  I bury my nose and inhale.  I slept a tiny bit last night.  If not for B and Theresa I would have been awake all night.  I rub my behind.  It's still sore.

I promise myself to stay true to Mistress's wishes.  I roll out of bed and get dressed in another sweat pant and sweatshirt ensemble.  I never thought I'd miss the uniform, but what I really miss is her.  I love you Mistress.

The doorbell rings.  I answer it, it's Theresa.

"Can I make you some breakfast, Miss Theresa?"
"No thank you, fur, I already ate.  X cooks a mean omelette.  Have you eaten?"
"No, Miss Theresa."

She reaches into her pocket and tosses me a granola bar.

"Still no change in Cass's condition.  She's still stable, but hasn't woken up.  Please get ready, we are leaving."

I slip on my shoes and wonder where we are going.  Theresa doesn't speak much as we drive.  She looks tired.

"fur... I want you to be prepared for the worst... it's not something I want to even consider, but just in case."
I stay silent.  I feel like a ghost.  She reaches over and grabs my hand.
"fur.  If Cass doesn't make it, she appointed me as your legal guardian.  You will be welcome in my home forever.  If you choose to move on, that is fine.  If you choose to stay, that is fine as well.  Right now, you are the closest thing I have to my best friend."

We both tear up together.  I swallow.  I recognize the landscape.  My fingers twitch.

"fur, I am dropping you off with Dominique for the day.  She has agreed to take you in for now.  I have a lot of loose ends I have to take care of for Cass and work.  Dom's a friend.  You'll be okay.  She was on the list of people Cass trusted, especially after the Kimmy incident."

I nod.
"Thank you, Miss Theresa for taking care of me."

We pull up to the house.  Theresa pops the trunk.
"fur, please grab the bag in the trunk."  I do as instructed and we approach the front door.  Sammy is waiting for us.  Images of the video flash in my head.  I smile for the first time today.  Dominique greets us at the door.  Her and Theresa exchange pleasantries.

Dominique turns to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.  Our eyes meet.  Her eyes are red and swollen, like mine.  She has been crying too.  I fake a smile.  She returns in kind.

"I'll see you later, Dom, I will text you if there are any updates."
"Thanks, Theresa.  I hope you are holding up.  Call me if you need ANYTHING."

Theresa leaves.  I follow Dominique and Sammy down the hallway.  We enter the same room I met her in during my first visit.  I breathe a little harder.  The hairs on my neck stand up.

"Strip, little one."  I nod and do as I'm told.  "Your uniform, put it on."  She motions to the garment bag.  I open it and to my surprise, my uniform.  Fresh from being cleaned.

I dress in front of her.  When I finish I present my wrists.  She turns up the cuffs and locks the buckles.  I turn and she repeats the process with my collar and head harness.  I lay on my back and raise my feet, she locks on my boots.

Dominique makes a motion with her head.  I look in that direction and see a box on the table.  I open it.  She puts out her arm.  Inside is an exact duplicate of Mistress's robe, slippers, and hat.  I slide the robe over her arm and pull it around her.  I straighten the collar before cinching the belt gently around her waist.  I retrieve the hat and stand on my toes, gently placing it on her head, making sure the contours are lined up just right.  She raises her foot.  I kneel and slide it into the first slipper.  We repeat this with the second.  I stay kneeling.

"slave."  I know what this means.  She has watched us.
I bow my head and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.

I rise back up and her arms embrace me.  She buries my face in the fur collar.  I close my eyes.  It's Mistress's perfume.  A few seconds of fantasy calms my soul.  She releases me.  Her face and eyes are warm.  This is a new side that she is showing me.

I bow and press my head to the floor at her feet.  I am so grateful to her.

"Stand up, little one.  I have a gift for you."

I stand.  She raises my chin until our eyes meet.  She smiles.

Dominique's hand goes into the pocket before presenting a pair of nipple clamps.

"Theresa told me the last pair 'broke,' little one.  It was clumsy of me to forget to give you the key."

The first clamp bites.  I whimper.  She dials up the pressure.  I scream.  She locks it in place. The second clamp bites.  I squeal.  She tightens it until I cry out.  Click.  My head clouds in pain.  It consumes me.

"Follow, little one," she instructs as she leads me to the dungeon.  We go down the stairs.  Fear.  Involuntary memories.  My legs barely work.  We cross the gate and she leads me to a horizontal bar.  She bends down and fastens metal shackles around each ankle, spreading my legs apart.

Dominique pulls some shackles down from above me.  I hear a clicking sound like the turning of a gear.  She locks them around my wrists behind my back.  I hear her footsteps shuffle away.  A click and the whirring of metal.  The motor pulls the shackles upward.  Farther and farther.  My arms bow back.  It forces me down at the waist.  My body bends over the horizontal beam.  The whirring stops.

Dominique returns.

"Just relax, little one.  This will be fun.  I promise."

She reaches forward and hangs a small metal weight from the chain between the nipple clamps.  I bite my lip and groan.  She tugs it.  I yelp.

"You really are quit the little Casanova aren't you, little one?  Always trying your best to seduce me."

She releases the weight.  I lower my head and watch it swing back and forth, tugging and the nipples.  It burns.

I feel a tapping on my back side.  It just grazes the skin but the marks from Theresa are still sore.

"I'll have to compliment Theresa on her work, little one.  These marks are sublime."  My body stiffens.

Dominique appears in front of me, crop in hand.  She taps it in her hand a few times.  No warning.

A quick strike to the weight.  It swings hard and tugs against the chain.  I cry out.  Ping.  I wail.  Ping.  Pain.  Ping.  It flies and clatters as it slides across the floor.  Dominique's face looks puzzled.

"Not as fun as I thought."  She rolls a cart nearby.  She hangs 3 weights from the chain.  I groan.  Ping, Ping, Ping.  I scream.  3 quick swings, 3 hits.  I look up, tears fill my eyes.  She leans her head matching my angle.  She smiles.  I look down and notice her left hand rubbing herself.

Ping, Ping, Ping.  I shriek and tug against the chains.  Ping, Ping, Ping.  I wail and sob.  Dominique leans her head back and moans.  I can see her hips gyrating through the robe.

"This way is a little more fun, isn't it?"  She laughs.  Dominique sprays a bit of perfume on the tip of the finger of her glove.  She wipes it under my nose.  The smell of Mistress envelopes me.  My heart calms for a brief instant.

Ping, Ping, Ping.  My body thrashes as I wail.  Sweat and tears mix on my cheeks.  Swat, swat.  She tags each ass cheek with precision.  I bawl.

"Let it out, little one."  Swat, swat.  Ping, Ping, Ping.  Agony blinds me.  I sob, whimper, and wail.  I pull and struggle against the shackles.  Swat, swat.  Ping, Ping, Ping.  Her speed is breath-taking.  Literally.  I sob and sob.  The pain fades out.  I just cry.  My head bobs, my chest heaves.  I cry.

It feels like hours.  It's probably only minutes.  I exhale with tears, I inhale Mistress.  My breathing slows.  My sounds fade.  I let out a very gentle whimper that extends for seconds.  The motor whirs.  I feel the chain loosen.  Soon I stand upright.  Dominique unlocks the shackles.

"Feel better, little one?"
I nod.
"You may touch me."

I throw my arms around her and squeeze.  I feel her hand on the back of my head.  It's a gentle touch.  She pulls my face into her shoulder.  I close my eyes.  It feels like Mistress.  I release her.

Dominique leads me upstairs away from the dungeon.  We return to the room we were in earlier. She reaches into her pocket, presents a key, and unlocks the clamps.  I scream as they release, the pain of the blood rushing back in.

"These are my gift to you, little one.  If you can't sleep because you miss her, these will help distract you.  Come lay with me."

Dominique lays on the couch.  I lay beside her.  I'm the little spoon.  She throws her robe over me and I feel her hand around my waist.  I close my eyes and breathe.  It feels okay to be alive.

"Sammy, fetch Gordon."  Sammy bows and leaves the room.  Soon after both appear before us.  Gordon looks at me.  Our eyes meet.  His eyes speak to me.  He knows what I'm feeling.  He glances at Dominique.  I don't see what she does but he nods and moves closer.  He puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Little one, I was not Gordon's first Mistress.  His first Mistress was in an accident.  She died.  He was all alone and he completely fell apart.  I heard about him through a friend and I reached out.  He's been with me ever since.  That was 6 years ago."

Gordon's eyes tear up.  I place my hand on his extended arm.  Our expressions match.  Empathy.

"Thank you, Gordon."  He nods, removes his arm, and takes a few steps back.

"Little one, when is the last time you had pizza?"  My mind blanks.  I don't remember.
"I don't know, Miss Dominique.  5 years ago maybe?"
"5 years?  Sammy, order up some pizzas.  Do you have a favorite movie, little one?"
"Nothing I can think of, Miss Dominique.  I don't think I've seen a movie in about 5 years."
"Gordon, please queue up the Thin Man."

I smile.  I've seen it before.  It's good.  Gordon nods and departs.  We all sit together, eating pizza and watching a movie.  I smile and laugh.  Everyone does.  I needed this.

After the movie, Dominique and I stay together on the couch.  We don't speak, we just lay together.  She comforts me.  I think she appreciates the comfort as well.

"Little one, Cass is going to be okay... but just in case... there's always a place for you in my home if you need one."
"Thank you, Miss Dominique.  You really are very kind."
"Stop saying that!  Sammy!  Show him your scrotum!"

I cover my face and laugh.  Thank you, Miss Dominique.  You really are very kind.


Fiction: fs01 - Part 11

Author's note:  This takes place shortly after Part 10.


Dinner simmers on the stove.  Mistress's favorite dish.  I love cooking for her.  I love watching the joy on her face as she eats.  I look forward to it every day.  I hear the door and my ears perk up.  At least I imagine them perking up, they are pinned below the hat and earmuffs of my uniform.

I rush to the door, prepared for the ritual I love so much.  I stop in my tracks.  It's Theresa.

"Hello, Miss Theresa," I greet with a bow.  She carries a suitcase.
"fur, get changed."  She throws me a set of keys.
"Miss Theresa?"
"No protocols, fur, Cass has been in an accident.  I need you to get changed."

Subspace is gone before I even realize it.
"What?  What happened?"  My chest hurts.  Dread.  A feeling worse than Miss Renee.
"Drunk driver on the wrong side of the road.  Hit her head on.  She's in surgery..."

I drop to my knees and burst into tears.
"Will she be okay?"

Her pause makes my heart sink.
"I don't know, fur, the doctors are doing everything they can."

I sprint up the stairs in tears, suitcase in hand.  I place it on the bed and open it.  Inside are several pairs of plain black sweatshirts, black sweatpants, some boxers, and a few pairs of socks.  I try to undo the locks on my uniform.  I fumble.  I scream.  The collar lock.  I can't get the key in.  I flail my arms in frustration.  Mistress.  I love you.

I sob.

I don't notice Theresa enter the room.
"fur!  What are you doing?  Pull yourself together!"
"I'm sorry... I can't reach...  It won't open..."

She grabs the keys from my hand and forces my head roughly against the bed.  The locks click and drop one by one.
"fur, Cass needs you.  She needs you together.  She needs you strong.  Be what she needs or I will kill you myself."

I wipe my eyes.  I feel shame.  Theresa is right.  Theresa is always right.  I dress myself.  Theresa stands by.  I finish dressing and straighten my hair with my fingers in the mirror.

"Have you calmed down?"
"Yes, Miss Theresa."
"Is dinner ready?"
"Yes, Miss Theresa."
"fur, we are going to go eat and wait for the hospital to call."
"I'm not hungry, Miss Theresa."
"fur, you will eat.  You will need your strength, now go."

I serve us dinner.  I eat with Theresa at the table.  She flies through her phone.  She is stressed.  I pick at my food, taking small bites.  It has no flavor.  I would never serve this to Mistress.  I bury my fear but it's right near the surface.  Theresa is right.  I need to be what Mistress needs me to be.

The phone rings.  Theresa answers.  She bobs her head and responds.  A string of "mm hmm's" and nods.
"We'll be right there."  She hangs up.

"fur.  Cass sustained some massive internal injuries.  They managed to stabilize her condition, but she's in a coma."

I press my hands over my face.  I feel lost.
"Thank you, Miss Theresa.  Thank you so much for being here for me.  Thank you for being strong.  Thank you for being you."

She grabs my hand and squeezes.  Tears fall from my eyes.  Hers too.  The drive to the hospital is silent.  I refuse to fear the worst.  I still fear.  The drive is only 5 miles.  It feels like 5 years.  We arrive and both of us run.  Fear.  We run for fear... we run for hope... we run for love.

Theresa leads me to Mistress's room.  I see her.  Her face is swollen and bruised.  Tubes and machines run all over.  They breathe for her.  I fall to my knees beside her bed.  I look back at Theresa.  She nods.  I take her hand in mind and kiss it.  I press it against my face.  She's limp.  I can't hold back anymore.  I sob and I wail.  My voice can only whisper.
"Mistress, please come back to me.  Please don't leave your pet all alone."

Theresa places her hand on my shoulder.
"fur, I need to take care of some things.  I will be back soon.  Don't you dare leave her side."

I look up at her and nod.  She forces a smile.  Theresa is kind.

I lose all sense of time.  I kiss her hand a million times.  I need her, she is my everything.

I hear a rapid patter of footsteps.  Arms around my chest.  A hug.  I look down.  These tiny hands can only belong to B.  I feel her breath on my neck.  The pattern tells me she has been crying.  She leans her head on my back.  She's warm.  She doesn't speak.  She just holds on.

Theresa's voice appears behind me.
"fur, I have a letter for you to read.  This is part of emergency protocols F that Cass set up in case something like this happened.  She planned for this, just in case because she loves you.  Also, Cass's sister is arriving in town tomorrow."
"She has a sister?"  My first words in hours.  The sound of my own voice surprises me.  It's frail and hoarse.
"They weren't close, fur.  Do you remember when you got married, you signed those other documents, fur?"
"Yes, Miss Theresa."
"Do you remember what they were for, fur?"
"They declared me legally incompetent to make my own decisions and gave that power to Mistress."
"fur... I want you to be prepared.  If she remains in a coma... or... I'll be taking over your custody until she gets better.   Cass's sister, Brianna, becomes the next of kin.  I was worried about this when you signed, but the both of you insisted this was the next step."

She hands me an envelope.  On the front is written:  "To fs.  Protocols F."  The handwriting belongs to Mistress.

I open the letter.  The stationary smells like her.

"To my dearest pet.

If you are reading this it means something has happened to me and I am unable to care for you.  I want to know that I love you and you are the light of my life.  I need you to be strong for me.  Be strong for me, for yourself, and for everyone around you.  Everyone is hurting.  Be strong for them and make me proud.

I have been grateful for every day we have been together.  I cannot stress that enough.  You are my special pet."

I weep.  My tears drop onto the paper.

"If I know you, you are probably suffering in agony right now.  I want to save your heart.  I want you ready for me when I return.  The thought of you wasting away here in pain hurts me.  It hurts so much I can't bear it.  Please forgive me for this, but I think it is for the best.  You will have 30 minutes per day with me and 2 hours on Sundays.  Promise me that you will use the rest of the time to stay strong.  I know you will worry about me but life still happens all around you.

I'm not asking you to be happy when I am in this state.  I want you to make the most of your time.  I want you to tell me every day what you've been doing, even if I can't hear you.  Think about how upset I would be if you came and told me 'I sat and cried all day even though you told me not to.'  Trust in Theresa to support you through this.  I left her instructions for what to do.

You are the most important thing in my life.  Wait for me.  I'm fighting with all my heart to return to you.

Forever and always,

I sob and kiss Mistress's hand again.  I speak softly.
"Mistress, I love you.  You are my Queen.  My Goddess.  You are my world.  You are the keeper of my soul.  Please come back to me."

"fur, let's go home."

I kiss her hand one more time.  I touch B's hand and she releases me from her embrace.  I turn on my knees and bow.
"Thank you, Miss B."
I take her hand and kiss it.  She blushes.  She places her other hand on my head.  She doesn't speak.  She doesn't have to.  Her eyes talk to me.

Theresa drives me home.  She follows me to the bedroom.  B accompanies us.  She sits on a small footstool.

"Strip, fur."  My cheeks turn red and I do as I am told
"Face down, on the bed.  Feet on the floor."

I lay on my face.  I think I know what to expect.

Smack.  I grunt as the leather bites my the flesh of my rear.  Smack.  I let out a small cry.  My hands make fists in the quilt.  Smack.  My body bucks and I bite my lip.  I don't have the energy for more tears.

"fur, this was in Cass's instructions.  These are her blows for you.  fur, what is going to leave marks that you will feel for a few days?"

I turn over and point to the fiberglass cane hanging on the wall over the dresser.  I return to my position.  I hear Theresa's footsteps and the rattle of the hook.

The cane cuts through the air.  A light swish before it lands.  Smack.  I howl.  Theresa pauses.  I feel the blood rush in and swelling almost immediately.  Smack.  I cry out.  Smack.  Tears flow gain.  Smack.  She pauses for me to catch my breath.  My chest heaves.  Smack.  Smack.  I whimper and sob.  Theresa takes this seriously.  These blows aren't light.  I'm certain she's swinging as hard as she can.

Smack.  Smack.  I'm no longer reacting to each blow.  I simply weep.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  I fall limp.  The blows stop.  I'm certain my bottom is red, swollen, and bruised.


I climb off the bed and kneel.

"These are Cass's specific instructions fur  I expect you to follow them exactly and I'm sure she does too.  You are not permitted to rub your bottom all night.  You may in the morning, but if you rub it at all tonight you will report it to me and I will give you more marks.  This will repeat every night until Cass recovers.  You will sleep naked and you will sleep in the bed.  No cage."

I nod.  

"Are you okay being alone tonight, fur?  We can stay over if you want."

"Thank you, Miss Theresa, but I will be fine.  Please don't inconvenience yourself any more for me.  I know you are hurting too.  Let B comfort you, she's an angel."

I climb onto the bed.  My bottom hurts.  I can feel my heart beat and pulse.  It is a distraction.  One pain to cure another.  I watch B whisper to Theresa.  Theresa nods and pats her head.

B walks over to me, carrying Mistress's robe.  She holds out her arms.
"fur sissy, please sleep with this.  I think it will comfort you."

My eyes tear up.  I take B's hand and kiss it.
"Thank you, Miss B, you are wonderful."  She blushes.

Theresa and B leave the room, turning off the light behind them.  I pull the robe close against my body.  I run my fingers through the fur and press the collar to my face.  It smells like Mistress.  My love.  My Queen.  I love you, Mistress, please come back to me.

I doze off in spite of the throbbing of my bottom.  Theresa and B are so kind.


Fiction: fs01 - Part 10

Authors Notes:
This takes place a short while following Part 9.


I wake early.  Mistress still sleeps.  I watch her on the bed from between the bars.  Her chest slowly moving up and down.  She is beautiful.  She stores my cage in her bedroom now.  It's a vast improvement from the basement and it made me very happy.  I still long to share her bed, but she saves that for special occasions.

It's Sunday.  Mistress has the day off.  She enjoys sleeping in.  I wait patiently.  It's hard to contain my excitement.  It's the anniversary of our collaring ceremony.  It's a special day.  It also means I get released for my orgasm.  My sex strains against the belt.  My thoughts are dirty.  They're the one day they can be.

Mistress wakes.  I watch her slowly clear the cobwebs.  She stretches.  The grace of her form entrances me.  I love her.  I turn in my cage in anticipation, like a dog excited for their owner's return.  She smiles.  She walks past me and retreats for the bathroom without looking.  My Mistress.

I hear the shower.  She's teasing me.  I twist and turn.  Mistress.

She takes her time.  I hear the hairdryer.  I hear her tooth brush.  I want to touch her.

She returns to the room.  Her nude form stands before me.  I can smell her body wash.  The belt prevents my arousal.  She approaches the cage and stands above me looking down.  Her hand touches my head through the bars.  I press against it.  Our eyes meet.  She smiles.  Her eyes are warm with love.  My eyes scream.  Let me out.

She wiggles her fingers.  No keys.  Tease.  She takes her time and walks slowly towards the dresser.  Her hips sway more than usual.  I lust for her.  She retrieves the keys and walks towards me.  She takes the lock in her left hand.  I watch the key move closer to the lock.  I tense in anticipation.

Mistress flips her hand over and drops the keys to the floor.  She makes a funny face at me.

"Oh, pet, I dropped the keys and I can't reach them, whatever shall I do?"  She feigns disappointment.  Mistress is cute.

I turn myself.  My face presses against the bars.  I stretch my hand out.  The chains work as advertised.  I lean my whole body against the side.  The bars dig into my ribs.  I glance out of the corner of my eye.  My fingers reach.  I flip my index finger.  A small clink.  Stretch.  Reach.  Damn small hands.  My middle finger catches the edge of the key ring.  I lunge into the side  The cage leans for a second.  My hand closes around them.  I catch my breath and turn inside the cage.  I rise on my knees, digging my back and arms into the top bars and slowly inch my way backwards.  My butt presses against the bars closest to Mistress.  She smacks the left cheek.  Then the right.

I feel her pry the keys from my hands.  The lock clicks and the door creaks.  I shuffle backwards out the cage, turn myself, bend down and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  I make myself as tall as possible.  Mistress undoes the wrist chains.  I tip onto my back and raise my legs.  She pulls up on the chain and smacks my butt again before releasing me from my bonds.  She tosses the keys towards the dresser.  They land with a clank and a jingle.

Mistress turns away from me and extends her arm.  I scurry to retrieve her things.  I slide the rob onto her arm and gently pull it around her body.  I straighten the collar and cinch the belt around her waist.  I'm tempted to sneak a feel of her breasts but I know better.  She does it for me, caressing them with her hands accompanied by a light moan.  I stand on my toes and place her hat on her head.  She lifts her foot.  I kneel and ease it into her slipper.  We repeat this with the other.  I bow my head and kiss her feet again.  First the right foot, then the left.

"Prepare my breakfast, slave.  While I'm eating I want you to get ready for the day.  Full grooming."

Shortly after I serve her.  She sits and eats.  I stand at attention.  She takes her time, savoring every bite.  I love her.  My Mistress.

Mistress finishes eating.  She motions to me.  I approach and present my hands.  Mistress turns up the  fur cuffs and removes the locks.  I turn and kneel.  She repeats with the collar and headharness. I move onto my back and raise my legs.  She releases the locks on the boots.

She shoos me away with her hand.  I bow and depart to the bathroom for my rituals.  Hot water.  I will never take it for granted ever again.  I shower and shave my entire body.  I wash my hair, another thing I will never take for granted again.  I exit the bathroom and my uniform is nowhere to be found.

I report to Mistress in the living room.  3 boxes accompany her on the couch.  She passes me the first box.  I open it.  It's a replica of my maid's uniform, this time in pure white on white with white fur.  I dress for her, carefully, ensuring everything is in place and "proper."  Our locking ritual follows.

"Take a few steps back and model for me, slave."
I do as she commands.  Her lips part into a smile.  Her eyes are alive, but in a different way.
"It's our collaring anniversary, slave.  Your uniform is the symbolize purity.  For a slave, this means your thoughts should remain pure, they should remain focused upon me instead of your orgasm."

My face turns red and I close my eyes.  Mistress picks up her phone.
"Smile for the camera."  Click.

I hear her phone click and clack.  A ding.  Another ding.
"I just sent this picture to Dom."  My body tenses.
"I told her this was your 'purity' outfit.  She replied with "give him to me for a few hours and he'll never feel 'pure' ever again."  Mistress laughs.  Involuntary fear creeps into my body.

"Oh, look, she sent a video of her new hobby."  Mistress turns her phone toward me.  The video plays back on the screen.

It's Sammy in a humbler.  He's on his knees, his face is on the floor.  His hands are chained behind him and suspended midway up by a chain to his collar.  His ankles are chained together as well.  He shuffles around the floor on his knees and face, moving as fast as he can.  Dominique sits on the couch firing an air soft gun at his naked buttocks.  She laughs with every shot.  Plunk, plunk, plunk.  Sammy grunts loudly with each impact on his tender skin.  Another shot.  Sammy shrieks and falls to the ground on his side.  Dominique shouts "BULLSEYE!" and throws her arms up with a maniacal cackle.  The video replays the last shot with a slow motion zoom in, showing the plastic pellet striking his scrotum.  The flesh ripples as he topples to the floor.  The final scene is Dominique in a pair of sunglasses.  "I'll be back," doing her best Ahnold.  I don't know if I should laugh or be terrified.

Mistress chooses to laugh.  She's beautiful.  I smile at the relief that it is him and not me.  It's not often that I am glad to be in a nearly impenetrable steel chastity belt.  The rest of the afternoon passes quickly.  I perform my daily chores.  Mistress relaxes and enjoys her day off.

On the anniversary of our collaring ceremony we replay the events of that fateful day when Mistress made me hers.

I prepare her an elaborate dinner.  Wine.  Appetizers, and salad.  A main course of sauteed shrimp, roasted asparagus, garlic potatoes.  A small lava fudge cake for desert.  I make them all from scratch.  I cook with love.

I serve her each course one by one.  As she starts the next course she places her leftovers from the previous course on the floor next to her.  I kneel and am permitted to eat while she eats.  This makes me happy.  I smile.  I love her.  My Mistress.

She leaves me a little bit from each course.  When I serve the cake, she eats it all.  She is beautiful.

We retreat to the living room.  She sits on the couch.  I kneel before her.  I bow and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  She extends her right leg.  I take it gently in my hands and support her leg with my thigh.  I caress it.  I rub it.  She moans.  My fingers gently and firmly work along her foot.  The sole, the arch, the heel, the top.  I am well-practiced.  No tickling.  No discomfort.  Finger tips.  The pads of my thumb.  She moans and squirms in the chair.  She is beautiful.  My Mistress.

I gently work each toe.  Her head tilts back.  When I finish, I place her pinkey toe in my mouth.  I gently suck and caress it with my tongue.  She moans louder and grabs the side of the couch.  I move to the next, careful not to overstimulate the nerves.  Suction.  I press my tongue and swirl.  She rubs herself through her robe.  I strain against my belt.  I lust for her.

I work my way down her foot.  Our eyes meet.  She's in "pleasure mode."  She rubs faster.  I tease her on the last toe, mixing up the pressure.  She glares but is too worked up to be angry.  I did this our first night as well.  Old habits die hard.

We change feet and continue.  Mistress continues to touch herself.  I can tell from her pace, she's stoking the flames without boiling over.  I follow the same pattern on this foot.  The sole, the arch, the heel.  I gently work the top.  I admire her control.  She's pacing herself.

I get to the toes and I take my time.  The sound of her fingers on the fabric.  Fwap fwap fwap fwap.  She grows impatient.  I take my time.  I'm a tease, too.  She moves faster.  Her moans grow deeper.  By the time I finish I can smell her.  The blaze has become an inferno.

She stands towering over me.  Our eyes meet.  I am meat.  I fell in love with these eyes the moment I saw them.  They are daggers.  Carnivorous.  Primal.  Passionate.  My Mistress and her beautiful eyes.  I love her as they stab into my soul and begin to tear.  Without a word she turns and marches.  I follow her.  To the bedroom.

She stands at the foot of the bed.  Switch in hand, tapping against her other.  I kneel before her and place my hands behind my head.  Her fingers touch my chin.  Her eyes change.  Fire mixes with ice.

"Face down on the bed."

I bend at the waist and comply.  I feel her leg step between mine.  She shoves it out wide.  Her other leg repeats the process.  They strain under the discomfort.  Her crotch presses against my ass.  I can feel her heat through the robe.

I feel her hand grasp my wrist.  She is purposefully rough.  She forces it behind my back and presses upward.  I whine in pain.  I hear a click.  Mistress grabs the other wrist and pulls my arm back.  Her sex grows hotter.  She twists her wrist and it hurts.  Another click.  She yanks on the chain and pulls my arms back.  I groan.

I feel her step back.
"I will ask you questions, slave, and you will answer them."  She hisses her words.

"Are you worthy of serving me?"
"No, Mistress, no one is worthy of serving you.  Serving you is a privilege you place upon the unworthy."
"Good answer, slave."

Smack smack smack.  The switch lands and bites over and over.  I cry out.

"How much do you love me, slave?"
"I love you more than life itself, Mistress.  I love you more than anything in the world.  You are the love of my life, the reason I live."
"Good answer, slave."

Smack Smack Smack.  I scream.

She's panting.  I hear the fwaps.  She's enjoying this.

"What will you do to serve me, slave?"
"I will do anything, Mistress.  I will move heaven and earth for you if you command it.  I will give you my all, my soul."
"Good answer."

Smack smack smack.  I wail and tears fill my eyes.
"If I wanted to beat you for my own pleasure, slave, what would you do?"
"I would accept it happily, Mistress, and I would be happy to serve for your pleasure."
"Good answer, slave.  But I don't need permission."

Smack Smack Smack.  I cry.  Smack Smack Smack.  I struggle.  Smack Smack Smack.  I writhe and sob.  Smack Smack Smack.  I fall limp and sob.  Smack Smack Smack.  Smack Smack Smack.

The blows stop.  I can hear her breathing.  I picture her nostrils flaring as she exhales.

"You've served me well today, slave.  This is the 5th anniversary of your collaring.  While circumstances have changed, our traditions will continue.  The first year we traded 1 for 1.  The second year it was 2 for 1.  This year will be 5 for 1."

I hear the switch hit the floor.  Her footsteps.

"Get up, slave."

I slide off the bed and return to my knees.  She attaches a leash to my neck ring.  Mistress opens her robe and sits on the bed, sliding the leash behind her.  She lays back and pulls it over her shoulder.  It tugs me to her.  Her legs part.  I love her smell.  She's beautiful.  She tugs down on the leash.  I scurry forward on my knees and find my face parked right before her sex.  She inserts a vibrator into her.  Ever since she experienced my "inside/outside" experiment in the shower, she prefers to have something inside her while I go down.

The vibrator buzzes.  She squirms and moans.  She pulls the leash.  My face is drawn into her sex.  Her thighs sandwich my head.  She rubs her legs back and forth, feeling the fur of the earmuffs against her tender skin.  I gently kiss her clit.  A few licks. I place my lips over it and gently suck.  She pulls again and my face presses firmly against her crotch.

Desire consumes her.  She grinds, keeping the leash taut.  I press my tongue and follow her, jerked around by the movements of her body.  She arches her back and cries out.  Her juices flow.  Her first orgasm.

I lock down and press.  Flick and rub, back and forth.  She moans and squirms.  Her thighs toss my body around like a rag doll.  I flatten my tongue.  Her breath heaves.  I can barely see her naval.  Her flesh blocks me, pinned in hard by the leash.  Her moans fill the room.

She thrashes.  My neck strains.  I want to try something.  I hook my upper lip over her clit.  My tongue shifts upward, continuing to work.  I jut my chin forward and feel the end of the vibrator.  I press it forward.  It leans into the flat base.  I slump my upper body forward, forcing it deeper inside her.  She inhales deeply.

My tongue keeps going, pressing it against my lip.  Flatter, faster, more pressure.  Back and forth.  Her moans change to cries.  I shift my jaw and catch the upper corner.  I press down, forcing the vibrator against her front wall.  Find the G.  Keep licking.  Flatter, faster, more pressure.  She thrashes.  Concentrate.  Her thighs attempt to crush my head.  It's working.

I bob my head in a circular motion, changing the angle of the vibe.  Its head shift and circles inside her, rubbing side to side along the front wall.  My head begins to nod in a pattern.  G-spot, clit, G-spot, clit.  She squeals and bucks me back.  Her body convulses.  Pulse.   Pulse, pulse.  Pulse.  She cums in a stream.  Her body twitches and writhes.  I love her.

The pace of her breathing increases.  Her thighs again lock onto my head.  The leash pulls tight.  My head continues to dance.  Tongue, chin, tongue, chin.  I reshape my tongue to act as a massager.  She's panting heavily.  More cries.  She grinds.  Moments later she erupts again.  Her back arches, her pelvis juts.  Her arms and hips slither along the bed.

No reload.  The leash stays tight, her thighs firm.  Her grinding intensifies.  Moans.  Faster, more pressure.  Faster.  She sits up on her elbows and throws her head back.  A primal howl.  Juices flow.

I've never seen her this intense.  No down time.  Hunger.  My Mistress.  She's beautiful.

This time she changes pace.  Her hips move her in a slow spiral grind.  Her breathing returns to normal.  Constant moans.  She pulls tighter.  My cheeks are pressed against her skin.  I continue my circular bob.  G-spot, clit, G-spot, clit.  Faster, harder.  She follows me.  She grinds.  Her ribs rise and fall in large motions.  I press my chin, forcing it deeper.  She arches her back.  A low call reverberates from within her.

I press harder.  It feels like my jaw will break.  I bob.  Discomfort.  She slams on the leash.  Panting.  The pressure forces the vibrator deeper,  holding it in.  Rhythmic cries.  over and over.  The pitch rises.


She sprays all over my face.  I'm coated in her scent.  Her hands move frantically.  She's overstimulated.  They yank out the vibrator and toss it to the floor.  Her body is pulsing and convulsing.  She pushes me away with her knee.  A final cry.

She falls to her back.  Deep breaths.  A light cooing ebbs and flows.  I give a slight pull on the leash.  It doesn't move.  It's under her.  Her legs lay limp at the base of the bed.  Her nose whistles lightly.  She's sleeping.

I readjust my knees, her juices still dripping from my face.  The leash grants me about 14 inches of freedom.  I watch her chest rise and fall.  I lust for her breasts.  She's beautiful.  My penis holds firmly against the front wall of the belt.  Anticipation.

I love to watch her sleep.  She's my Queen, my Goddess.  My Mistress.  My love.  I patiently await her.

Time passes.  My knees hurt.  My neck hurts.  My jaw aches.  Mistress, I love you.  I look at the clock.  It reads 11:48pm.  My sleeping beauty.  Your humble servant awaits you.

1:57am.  Her snores are cute.  I love everything about her.  She makes some mumbles.  Her hand slides across her breast.  Her scent dominates my nose.  I love her.  My Mistress.  I am here for you.  I don't make a sound.

2:41am.  I hear a change in her breathing.  Her head rises.  Her eyes bat in the light.  She's groggy.  I perk up.  I want to be perfect for her.  I love you, Mistress.

"pet?  What time is it?"
"2:41, Mistress."
"Did I fall asleep?"
"Yes, Mistress.  You looked very peaceful."  She smiles at me.  Her body glows.
"pet... that thing you did... I liked it."  I smile and blush.

She adjusts her body, letting the leash go free.  I straighten my back.  It's sore from the positioning.

"Are you okay, pet?"
"My knees hurt a little, Mistress, and I'm a bit stiff."

She sits up.  I turn away and rise.  She unlocks my wrists.  Blood rushes back into my shoulders.  They tingle.  I remain silent.  I kneel again and turn to face her.  She takes the leash in her hand and pulls me close.  She plunges her tongue deep into my mouth.  The kiss is wonderful.  I love her.  I lust for her.  I long to touch her.

She can see it in my eyes.  She knows I will never ask.  Her lips release mine.

"You know, pet, with those dirty thoughts you don't deserve to wear white."
I hang my head and blush.

"I know you were expecting me to let you out, but it's not our collaring day anniversary anymore so there's no reason to let you out."
Despair.  This makes my sex strain harder.  I frown.

"Don't you dare pout, pet, or I'll get the strap."  I shift into a poker face.
"I'm at a loss for what to do, pet.  It's not the right day anymore, and you already got your orgasm for the year the night you proposed."  I can't look her in the eye.

"Do you think you deserve to cum, pet?"  I freeze.  The trap is set.
"Answer me, pet."   I shake my head 'no.'
"Good answer, pet.  Even you're smart enough to know that slaves don't have any rights at all.  You know, you really should have asked for an addendum promising the orgasm when you signed the 50-year contract extension.  T did a great job distracting you again by turning you on with all that legal talk."

I feel stupid.

"Besides, does the Mistress of your dreams give in to the desires of a horny slave?   I.  Dont.  Think.  So."   She taps my nose in rhythm with the last few words.

"I am a fair, Mistress, though, pet.  I'll let fate decide."  She reaches and pulls a coin from the night stand.
"Heads means cum.  Tails means wait for next year."

The coin dings against her thumbnail as she flips it.  She catches it and slaps it to the back of her hand.  She reveals it slowly...  My heart races.

"Tails!"  She giggles.  "Poor, poor, pet."  Her mocking tone is still cute, but my heart sinks anyways.

"You're too talented pet.  You wore me out.  You only have yourself to blame.  Besides, you only made me cum 4 times and the deal was for 5."  I blush.

She takes my leash and leads me to the side of the bed.  She points to the bearskin rug on the floor.  I lay down.  Mistress climbs into bed with the leash in her hand.

"Goodnight, pet."
"Goodnight, Mistress, I love you."

My eyes grow heavy.  I'm exhausted.  My last thoughts are only of her.  I love you.  My Queen.  My Goddess.  You are my everything, Mistress.