Saturday, June 11, 2016

What do we need? Macro vs. Micro appreciation

I recently had a conversation with a vanilla friend and a topic came up that was interesting since we shared similar views and experiences on the subject.

His words were:
"I'm bad at taking compliments, but I enjoy being appreciated."

I knew exactly what he was talking about as I am wired in this way as well.  We talked about it more and a lot of it stems from failing to feel pride over accomplishments that didn't require a significant amount of work or self-investment.

For him this mostly stemmed from things he felt were easy and obvious.  He hated being complimented for something he felt should be "common sense" or easily obtainable.

For me, it was a mix between feeling no pride from most accomplishments (they don't really matter) or things that were acquired on natural ability or talent.

In either case, the majority of compliments usually made us feel uncomfortable and almost always wanting to retort with the opposite.  "Oh, that can't be true," sort of a thing.

The bigger question is why is appreciation okay?  We didn't really talk about this much, but I stated some cases where I did feel pride at being acknowledged and I was able to put it together through our conversation.

The cases where I do enjoy (and feel pride from) receiving appreciation is usually in reference to my "body of work" as a whole.  A micro vs. macro type of thing.
It's easier to describe this with an example.  An easy illustration that involves multiple levels of this would be pitching in baseball.

If someone says, "that was a great pitch."  It may be true, but I'm likely to shrug it off, feel that it was luck, etc.  It feels strange to receive that as a compliment.

If someone says, "you pitched a great inning."  I may feel okay about it, but the feeling quickly fades.  This also feels strange, I'm looking at the next inning.

If someone says, "you pitched a great game," there is some minor pride, but nothing lasting.  If I was told this I would likely tell them thanks but that I'm already focused on the next game.

If someone says, "you are pitching great this season," that will warm me, but I'm still focused upon the part of the season that hasn't been played yet rather than feeling joy at the season that is now over.

If someone says, "you are a great pitcher," I feel happy, fulfilled, and gratified.  I feel pride.  I will thank them in return and feel humbled that someone noticed.

I don't know exactly why I feel this way about it.  I've been told it is a form of narcissism I developed as a defense mechanism in order to cope with receiving very little praise or recognition growing up.  I'm not really sure but that makes sense in a lot of ways.

This same thing bleeds over heavily into D/s.  I crave very little micro appreciation.  I absolutely need macro appreciation.

If I do the dishes, cook a good meal, or give a good foot rub, I feel weird getting any praise for it.  It just feels like things that are part of my role as a sub.  However, if she says, "I love that you do things for me," I feel warm and fuzzy inside.  I feel like I am a good person and a good sub.  It gives me confidence to press on.

I might just be broken, but the most fulfilling times in my life have been when she has said she "loves who I am."  I feel like this is a compliment for my "body of work" as a whole and that makes me feel complete and very proud.  I also know the times that have been rough have been when it didn't feel like this was true.

I hope this makes some sense.  Does anyone else feel this way too?

Fiction: fs01 - Part 23

Author's Note:
This takes place the day after Part 22.


I wake gently.  I look upon the bed.  Mistress is gone.  I sit up and look around the room.  Another note.  2 keys.  I read it.


I will be gone again today, I should be home after dinner.  Please shower and shave today and prep your uniform for cleaning.  Your replacement uniform is on the dresser.


My heart sinks.  I unlock myself and get undressed.  I take my time getting clean, making sure to shave thoroughly.  I don't mind doing this for Mistress.  It makes me how she likes me and that makes me happy.

I dress myself, doing up the buckles and locks.  I place my old uniform in a garment bag and hang it on a hook near the door.  I start on my chores out of habit.  There isn't much to do since I did a lot yesterday and no one was home.  I dust and vacuum and mop the floors where we were.

Time passes slowly.  I write Mistress another note.


My love for you makes my heart feel like it will burst.  Your embrace warms every inch of my being.  You are amazing.  I love you so much.  I am lost without you.

-your pet, fs01"

I kiss it and place it on her pillow.  I curl up on the doggie bed.  My thoughts wander.  Maybe I should get my hobbies?  I shake my head.  Hobbies are for killing time and filling holes in my life.  Being with Mistress fulfills me. I don't need anything else.

Time passes slowly.  I eat a small meal.  I doze off.

My eyes open.  I look at the clock.  8:30pm.  My ears strain.  Nothing.  I am alone.  Worry creeps into my heart.  I look at the phone.  My fingers twitch.  I am permitted phone use when ordered or "in case of emergency."  9:00pm.  I go over to the phone and pick it up.  I slowly dial Mistress's cell phone.  Straight to voicemail.  I put the phone back down.  9:10pm.  I try her again.  Voicemail.  I call Theresa.  Straight to voicemail.  I try Lisa.  Voicemail.

I hesitate.  I take a deep breath.  I call Dominique.

"Hey, Cass, what's up?"  I stutter, making a few small sounds with my lips.
"Is that you, little one?"
"Yes, Miss Dominique."
"This is a surprise, have you decided you can't resist my charms any longer?"  She giggles.  I blush.
"Miss Dominique, have you heard from Mistress Cassandra?"
"I haven't spoken to Cass in a few days, little one.  I'm guessing you've already tried her phone."
"Yes, Miss Dominique.  She said she would be home after dinner.  I'm getting worried."
"Are you lonely, little one?"  My head nods even before I speak.
"Yes, Miss Dominique.  Mistress was gone all day yesterday as well.  Today too."
"No problem, little one.  I'll be right over."

She hangs up.  I never realized just how happy human contact could make me.  Something to look forward to.

9:40pm.  Dominique arrives.  I greet her with a smile and a bow.
"Hello, Miss Dominique.  It's a pleasure to see you."  She smirks.
"Hello, little one."

I take her coat and bag.  She turns and raises her arm.  I quickly retrieve a gust robe and pull it over her arm, wrapping it around her body.  I straighten the collar and cinch the belt around her waist.  She clears her throat.

I drop to my knees and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  It feels strange doing this for someone other than Mistress, but Dominique has been there for me.  I owe her.

"I do see why Cass loves this so much, little one."

I escort her to the living room with her bag.  She sits on the couch.  She pats the edge.  I kneel in front of her.

"I brought some entertainment, little one.  A few new toys I had a hand in designing.  Don't worry, they won't hurt too much."  I shiver a little.

Dominique opens the bag.  She takes my hand.  A leather mitten with a fur cuff.  It matches my maid's dress.  She pulls it onto my hand.  Then the other one.  She buckles them tightly at the wrist and applies some locks.  These mittens are strange.  They are lined with thick fur.  The insides have sleeves for each finger that are sewn together.  There is a spot for my thumbs inside but there are no thumbs on the outside.  She adds a ring gag that locks to my earmuff harness.  A blindfold... but not quite.  It's sheer, sort of.  She pulls it onto my face and locks it to the harness as well.  I can see motion, light, and hazy outlines but it prevents seeing anything in detail.

"We're going to play a game, little one."  I watch her arm move and hear a small jingle.
"That was the key.  You simply need to retrieve it and free yourself.  I'm going to time  you.  The number of minutes it takes is how many times I will whip your ass."

I whimper.  In the back of my mind I'm a little relieved.  No nipple clamps.  I start to turn away.  Her hand grabs my shoulder.

"Almost forgot, little one.  It wouldn't be complete without these."  She dangles the nipple clamps in front of me.

I shriek.  The gag lets the sound out.  I hear the rubbing of fabric.  She must be rubbing herself.

"You really do try your hardest to seduce me, little one."

The first clamp bites my nipple.  I groan.  Tighter and tighter.  Tears fill my eyes.  Click.  The other clamp.  I sob a little.  Click.  My brain clouds with pain.  I hear a beep.

"Clock is ticking, little one.  And feel free to take your time."

Fear.  Panic.  Pain.  I didn't see the key.  The sound I heard allows me to narrow it to half the room.  I crawl on my hands and knees.  The mittens prevent me from feeling anything on the carpet.  I slide my hands from side to side, listening for anything.  I whimper.

"1 minute, little one."  I hear a buzz in the background.  She's masturbating.  Her moans make it harder.  I cover ground, hurrying.

"5 minutes, little one."  I whimper.  I move frantically.  I can't see.  I can't feel it.  My nipples hurt too much to think.  Her laughs and moans make it hard for me to hear.

"10 minutes, little one."  By her cries I know she just had an orgasm.  I know it wasn't the first but I haven't been counting.

A sharp pain.  Something bit my leg.  I squint and look at the carpet through the eye mask.  There's not enough light to see.  I can't feel anything with my hands.

I press my face against the carpet and slide my cheek around.  Cold.  Metal.  I push it up so it's on top of the carpet fibers instead of buried.  I try to bend my fingers in the mittens.  They are too thick to pick it up.  Nipple clamps are the rational mind's worst enemy.  I can't use my mouth.  The key is too small to use my knees.  I carefully lift it upright with the tip of one of the mittens.  I shake a little.  The key tips and falls flat.

"15 minutes, little one."

I try again.  Balance. Carefully.  I pinch the other mitten tip against it.  Carefully I lift it off the carpet.  I shuffle on my knees and drop it onto the coffee table.  I hear it ping on contact.  I stare down at it.  I can see its faint outline against the contrast of the table.  The locks on the mittens are on the back of the hand and partially buried in the fur. I raise my wrist and try to point the keyhole toward me.  Almost.  Almost.  It slides in the buckle and tips over falling back into the fur.

"20 minutes, little one."  She cackles and has another orgasm.

I try to lift the key.  I can't pick it up.  I slide it across the table and drop it into my palm.  I attempt to make a fist around it.  It tips and topples onto the carpet.  I cry.  I shove the tip of the mitten into the ring gag.  Anything.  Let me pull it off.  I pin the mitten between my thighs and pull.  The buckle is too tight.  There's no way.

"25 minutes, little one."

I turn to her and sob, holding up my hands.  She's grinning.

"Finally figured it out little one?  This is a game you had no chance of winning.  The mittens have been tested.  You can't remove them yourself without the use of your mouth, and even then it's a challenge."

Dominique leans down and picks up the key."

"Don't worry, little one, I would never hit you without Cass's permission."

She unlocks the nipple clamps and removes them.   Dominique lays out on the couch and pats it.  I reluctantly climb on. She pulls me in.  I'm the little spoon.  I feel her breath on my neck.  Her hands find my nipples and begin to tease.  My sex strains.  We lay like this for hours.

I hear a car.  I hop up and rush to the door.  I struggle to open it, pressing both mittens against the handle I manage to turn it and open the door.  I see the outline of a figure approach.  I squint.  It's Mistress.  My heart jumps.  Mistress enters.  I freeze.  I can't take her coat or kiss her feet.

"pet?"  Dominique enters.
"Hey, Cass.  fs called me looking for you.  He was worried.  I came over to wait with him."
"Hi, Dom.  I had to turn my phone off in the restaurant and forgot to turn it back on."

They move to the living room.  I follow.

"You have to careful with this one, Cass.  He's sensitive and thoughtful.  You normally follow a schedule like clockwork.  I think you threw him off."
"You're right, Dom.  I completely lost track of the time."

She turns to me.
"I'm sorry, pet.  Tristan leaves tomorrow.  Things ran a little later than usual.  She bought a house and will be moving here in a few weeks."

I nod.
"Hey, Cass.  Check out these prototypes I helped design with Sasha."  She unlocks the eye mask and hands it to Mistress.

Mistress holds it over her eyes and waves one hand in front of it.
"Partial vision.  Nice."

Dominique points at her hand and motions to me.   I crawl to Mistress and present my hands.

"Bondage mittens revision number 5.  Completely inescapable without help and makes the hands virtually useless.  I have my order in for the final version.  Those ones buckle directly onto the maid's uniform."

Mistress giggles as she inspects the mittens.  She tugs and prods.

"Good work, Dom.  I'm sure these will be a big seller."

Mistress and Dominique talk for a while.  My hands are freed so I can serve them wine.   Mistress invites her to spend the night.  She sends me to prep the guest room.

At bed time I'm freed from the gag.  I thank Dominique for spending time with me.  She laughs and rubs her crotch.  Dominique is kind... in her own way.

In the bedroom Mistress finds my note.  She embraces me.  I hug her back.  She undresses, turns, and holds out her arm.  I slide her robe onto her arm and wrap it around her body.  I straighten the collar and cinch it at the waist.  I kneel and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  My heart overflows with love.  She tosses the bear off the bed.

"Sleep with me tonight, pet."  I'm walking on air.  I love her.  I curl up on the bed and she presses her body up next to mine.  I'm the little spoon.  We doze off together.


Fiction: fs01 - Part 22

Author's Note:
This takes place the morning after Part 21.


I wake naturally.  No alarms, no noises.  The room is quiet.  I roll over and glance up at the bed.  It's empty.  I slowly scan the room.  A note on the nightstand.  A key.  I read it.


I've gone out with Tristan to look at houses.  Relax after you finish your chores.


I unlock my collar chain and begin my day.  Time passes slowly.  Today I am extra thorough. Laundry, vacuuming, dusting, the bathrooms, the kitchen.  I scrub and mop the floors.  I wash the inside of the windows.  Time passes slowly.  I sweep out the garage.  I scrub the floor in the dungeon.  Time passes slowly.

When you are kept busy, think only of her, and aren't allowed to speak, the idea of free time or relaxation feels foreign.  In the olden days I might go watch a sporting event or go out to a movie.  Those don't seem desirable anymore... nor do I have any money or means of transportation.  Silly thoughts, I forgot I'm not allowed out of my uniform.

I kneel in front of the coffee table with a pen and paper.  I write to Mistress.  I know she knows all these feelings but I want to tell them to her as often as I can.  I haven't written anything since Kimmy moved in.  This feels nice.

The pen flows without thought.  I draw my heart upon the page in words.

You are the beauty within my life.  You are the focus of my love.  To see you smile brings joy to my heart.  When I see the warmth in your eyes I feel our souls connect.  I cherish every moment of every day that I spend with you.  I am grateful for every moment spent by your side.  While I will never feel worthy of you, that you chose me is the greatest feeling in the world.

I will love you forever.  My heart longs for you when you are not here.  My devotion never wavers.  You are my Queen.  My Goddess.  You are the love of my life.  You are my Mistress.  You are my wife.

-your pet, fs01"

I kiss the note.  I fold it neatly and place it on her pillow.

My stomach growls.  I haven't eaten.  I move to the kitchen and prepare what I could envision Mistress permitting me to eat.  It is modest.  A piece of bread with some cheese.  A couple of carrot sticks.  A glass of water.  I finish my food and curl up on the doggie bed in the living room.  Normally I would be planning dinner preparation.  Today I wait.  Time passes slowly.

My ears perk up.  A vehicle.  I hurry to the door. The doorbell rings.  My heart sinks.  I open the door.  It's Lisa.

"Hello, Miss Lisa.  It is good to see you today."  I bow.
"Hi, fur, Miss Cassandra called and said she would be out late.  She asked me to bring over some dinner."

I take her bag and help her out of her coat.  She declines a robe.  Lisa sits at the table.  I transfer her meal from the plastic container onto a plate.  I serve it to her and pour her some wine.

"The second container is for you, fur."
"Thank you, Miss Lisa."  I bow and return to the kitchen.

I open the container.  It's steak.  My mouth waters.  I transfer the food to the plate.  Potatoes and asparagus are the sides.  I cut the steak into bites before returning to Lisa with my plate and a glass of water.  I kneel near her and eat.  The food is delicious.  I feel guilty.  A slave eating such fine food.  I savor every bite.  Lisa finishes before me.  I move to clear her plate.

"fur, finish your food first.  That's an order."  She could read my eyes.  I nod and finish eating.

"Would you like some pie, Miss Lisa?  I baked it yesterday.  It is pecan."
"Pie would be lovely, fur."
"Whipped cream or ice cream, Miss Lisa?"
"No fur, I have to watch my figure."  She pats her belly and smiles.  I smile back.

I clear our plates and return with a slice of pie for Lisa.  She eats it bite by bite.  The sounds she makes tells me she likes it.  After dessert we return to the living room.  Lisa sits comfortably on the couch.

"I would like a foot rub, fur."

I nod and kneel.  I smile.  Lisa is more comfortable with this role.

My heart calms a little as I take her foot in hand.  I hands are gentle yet firm.  I rub the sole, the arch, the heel.  I caress the tops.  I work each toe.  I'm careful not to tickle.  I enjoy Lisa's moans but I stay focused on my task at hand.  This is nice.  I finish.  I look up and she has slouched deep into the couch.  She opens her eyes and smiles.

"Thank you, Miss Lisa, for the privilege of pleasing you.  Would you like me to suck your toes?"

Her mouth opens into a wide grin.  She blushes.  This surprises her.

"No, fur.  That was lovely."
Her expression changes.  She loses herself in thought.  She smiles again.  I predict her husband will suck her toes the next time they role play in the bedroom.

"Come here, fur."  She pats the side of the couch.  I shuffle closer.

I feel her arms embrace me.  She pulls me against her body.  Her hand pets the fur on my collar.  I feel her bury her fingers and shuffle them about.  Her senses awaken.  She rubs my earmuff.  The taps the pom pom on my heat.  I feel her hands on my shoulders.  Lisa turns me so that I face her.

Her expression changes again.  She looks... naughty.  Her hands move toward me.  She places her palms on my chest.  They slide out to the sides.  Her fingers find my nipples.  My brow furrows.  The squeeze.  She twists.  I close my eyes.  My mouth opens.  She squeezes harder.  I let out a moan.  My sex strains against the belt.  Her fingers release.  I open my eyes.

"fur, does that really feel good?"
"Yes, Miss Lisa.  When I am locked in the chastity belt, my nipples become my sex organs.  At least that's what Mistress says."

I watch her face turn bright red before my eyes.  The death of innocence can be cute.  I smile at her.  She places one hand over her eyes and laughs.

"So I was basically just fondling 2 penises."  She laughs harder.  I blush and lower my face.

"So, fur, this is really okay with you?  Being locked up all the time.  You don't miss sex or masturbation?"
"Miss Lisa, this makes me happy.  Of course I miss sex, but this is how Mistress wants me and I am happy to be what she wants."

Her face shows me that she is thinking.  We continue to chat.  Lisa asks me various questions about my thoughts on D/s and related activities.  I can see her learning.  I wonder how this will apply to her husband.  Time passes quickly with company.  Soon it is late.

"I have to get going, fur.  Thank you for the talk."
"Thank you, Miss Lisa, you are very kind.  This means a lot to me."

I escort her to the door and see her out.  I brush my teeth and wash my face as best I can.  I lock my collar to the chain and curl up on the bearskin rug.  I doze off with thoughts of Mistress.

I stir a bit from the sound of the door.  My eyes are heavy.  I hear her in the room.  Her lips on my cheek.  A whisper.

"Thank you, pet."

The lights turn off.  I roll over and my tired eyes trace over her figure on the bed in the moonlight.  She wraps her body around the bear.  I love you, Mistress.  I doze off.


Overcoming the Pains of Youth

After writing yesterday's "Pains of Youth" post I probably seem like a pretty screwed up guy.

What I wrote about was really what was going on internally during the span from ~13 until 25.  I still functioned quite well externally during that period.  I graduated #1 in my class in high school despite all the problems, earned scholarships, became a gigging musician, and developed and honed my love of music, film, literature, poetry, and art.  I kept many interests up.  I learned how to build computers, got familiar with networking, built and managed a couple of fairly popular websites for some of my varying interests.  I took the "scenic route" through college but graduated with 1 small blemish, a lone A- prevented me from being #1 in my university graduating class.

While I was a total mess inside, my "outside" was doing quite well.

A lot of the broken aspects within me came from the fact that none of my accomplishments really mattered.  I was "encouraged" to do my best and when my best reaped a great reward, it was just onto the next thing.  For a stretch, I was the top athlete in my grade.  Every year I would win multiple first place ribbons on field day.  I would ace nearly every test.  I went to the state finals in math competitions, science fairs, young inventor's fairs, and the like.  I was on television for several of the accomplishments.  I worked my way up to second chair in my musical instrument.  My baseball teams went to the state AAU tournaments.  My soccer teams won local level tournaments.  None of it really mattered, onto the next thing.  There was no reward for success, only punishment for failure (failure = being not excellent at something).  Sometimes this was physical, but mostly it was emotional (being yelled at, ignored, etc.).

By the time I turned 21, I had experienced a taste of love but just once.  It was a strong enough, good enough, and powerful enough feeling that it completely overwhelmed all of the negativity that had been built up inside me.  It was so amazing that in the moment I could jettison all of my baggage and just love her, love my life, and appreciate what I had while I still had it.

The big problem was, I had terrible luck in love.  I just wasn't looking for the same things that my immediate peers were.  At 16 I found that 24 year olds found me attractive.  "If only you were 5 years older."  At 19 I found 30 year olds found me attractive.  "If only you were 5 years older."  Something incredibly weird happened at 21. Due to some very odd turns of events, I found that I was attractive to 40+ year olds.  They no longer said "if only you were older," but it did make me a bit uncomfortable although I appreciated the sentiment.  Another weird note was that from 17-23 I started getting hit on by gay men.  They were always effeminate gay men so I could tell they viewed me as a top, but it was a bit disconcerting to get hit on by more men than women over that span.  I learned how to thank them and say that I was flattered that someone found me attractive, but not my bag.

Through this all I had many emotional ups and downs, battled depression on and off, and just tried to be the best man that I could be, hoping that would mean something to me.

When K professed her love for me and the "kink requirement" that went along with it, my entire world changed.  Everything changed.  D/s fit like a glove.  It was almost like every hard experience in my life had built up to this one moment.  Everything made sense.  All of it.  The insecurities began to topple one by one.

Oh you only get off thinking about a woman dominating you?  No problem.
You feel like love has to be earned?  No problem.
You try really hard at everything because you're scared to fail?  No problem.
You crave giving pleasure more than sex?  No problem.
You'll look at her like a Goddess who saved your soul?  No problem.
You can channel your fear into motivation?  No problem.

A new world opened for me.  One where my merits mattered.  One where I could love openly.  One where giving my all was encouraged.  My methods of coping with all of my fears and insecurities were all of a sudden... strengths.  I felt good about myself.  For the first time I felt truly proud of who I was and what I could be to her.

I know this isn't a romantic view of D/s and "in the moment" I do not think about any of these things.  This is just my rational analysis of it and what it does for me.  In the moment I am full of love and I feel at peace.  Upon reflection I understand why K told me that I was a natural submissive but I never realized that it was like my entire life trained me for this lifestyle until now.

If anything, D/s has become my religion.  It provides the answers to the deep questions inside of me.  I gives me a sense of purpose and belonging.  It soothes my heart and soul.  It saves me.  Completing service and rituals to its Goddess is my life.

I know I can never go back, but I don't really mind.

Friday, June 10, 2016

The Pains of Youth

This probably would have been best suited as part of my Reflections series but these were memories that hadn't surfaced until recently.  My brain managed to block them out for a very, very long time.  After sharing this with a D/s friend last night, I figured I may as well pour it out under the anonymity of the internet for all to see.  Nothing quite like feeling awkward and vulnerable :)

Writing this will probably embarrass the hell out of me, but I'm better off getting it out of my system.

First off, I should probably start this out with 2 tidbits of info:
1. My adopted father was raised in a Puritanical religion that treated the Old Testament of the Bible like it was law.  Basically, the longer you lived, the more certain it was that you were going to hell.  Listen to music other than church hymns, bad.  Have sex for anything other than procreation, bad.  Any impure thoughts, bad.   While he converted to a different religion later on, this basically meant that the majority of "father to son" talks never happened, nor could I ever ask about anything.

2. By the time I was 4 years old I had already experienced just about every racial insult imaginable.  I was constantly made fun of for my facial features, skin color, and so on.  I am also not circumcised.  Also at 4 years old, a kid at my pre-school saw my penis in the bathroom and made fun of it.  He also announced it in front of all the other kids while I was present.  This would haunt me for most of my life.

When I look back, I realize that M was my sexual awakening.  You can read about her in Reflections: Part 1BPart 1X, and Part 1XX if you are interested.  I didn't leave near any other kids around my age so I was fairly isolated unless I made plans well in advance.   Also, I was a late bloomer into puberty.  While I was always muscular and athletic, I was short and due to being asthmatic, what I could do as cardio exercise was somewhat limited.  I got a bit chubby before my growth spurt.  By the time I was the age when M started tying me up, I was already an emotional mess, feeling like some outcast but still attempting to win approval from my parents.  I was top in my class in grades and one of the best athletes in my class, excelling in baseball, basketball, and soccer (football didn't start until later).  I was also constantly bombarded with racial insults and didn't receive much approval at home.

By the time I had my first contact-based erection with M, I had already figured that no girls would ever be interested in someone who was fat, ugly, different, and with a weird penis.  She always showed interest in me.  She became my sex symbol, the dream that I didn't think I could ever have.  I had mentioned once that M hit puberty early... the last few times she tied me up she was over a foot taller than me.

I believe I started masturbating when I was around 12.  I don't really remember.  To be honest, I didn't even realize I was masturbating.  When I thought about M, I would rub myself through the top of a comforter.  I believe I was probably stimulating the glans through the foreskin.  It was so different from what masturbation was supposed to be, I didn't even know that's what I was doing.  In an attempt to blend in I had all sorts of porno mags and the like by the time I was that age.  I could look through the pages and feel nothing.  When I thought about M, I felt something.  We were in the same school for much of this time.  I got watch her blossom into a beautiful woman.  She was tall, blonde, athletic, had a killer body, and still maintained the friendly and outgoing personality that she always had.

The problem was that I really had no idea how to understand the emotions that were brewing inside of me... how all the self-hatred and disgust with myself would eventually play out.  I just knew when I thought of M I felt happy and it made me want to touch myself.  Where I realize things went askew is that I didn't think about M naked.  I didn't think about sticking my penis inside of her or grabbing her breasts.  I thought about M tying me up and mounting me, holding me down and telling me not to talk.  It always came back to those events and often to the more extreme days.

The most extreme case I wrote about in depth in Part 1B, when M bound me and put another girl's coat on me backwards with my arms pinned inside instead of through the sleeve-holes.  M wasn't a girlie girl.  She wasn't really a tomboy, just athletic.  Her clothing was mostly practical but still attractive.  The coat she chose to imprison me in (out of the 5-6 to choose from) was from a girlie girl.  It was frilly and trimmed with fur.

After the encounter, my sister and the girl whose coat it was were mortified that I had worn it... like I chose to wear it.  My mother reamed me out for it as well.  I felt really ashamed.  When I told them that M made me do it, they piled it on and I felt even more ashamed.  That shame would carry over with every successive interaction.

This must really be where it started... rubbing myself while thinking about M doing things to me that made me feel ashamed.  That was the only way I knew how to do it... well, the only way I wanted to do it.  By the time I got a bit older I realized that my sexual wiring had been severely fucked up.  I kept this a secret and just hated myself for being so different.  When I saw M I could wave, but I couldn't speak around her.  I wanted to be with her but I was too embarrassed with who I was.

When my parents divorced my father's mild violence toward me (a punch here or there) turned into heavy violence.  I became a ball of ticking rage that would fly off the handle about almost anything.  I drove away friends.  My father had a prominent role in the community and that led to bullying at school.  My best friend ditched me because I wasn't cool enough to hang out with.

I finally snapped one day after my mother belittled me again and I just started downing bottles of pills.  They tried to hold me down but I was stronger now, I broke free, punched and kicked through a few walls and windows, and ended up shrieking and bawling in a heap in the yard.  I wanted to die.  I ended up vomiting up blood and most of the pills.

The next few years I was forced to take meds and into therapy.  Neither went anywhere.  I was still top of my class in grades but now that I was a foot shorter than most of my classmates, I was still a very good athlete, but no longer dominant as I had been before.  This evaporated my relationship with my father even more.  I hated everyone and everything, hating myself most of all.  The meds ended with another overdose attempt... on the meds.  I wasn't aware that they were designed specifically to not be able to kill someone who tried that.  Another vomit-fest followed.  I learned to "fake it" from then on.  Appearing well enough to get people to leave me alone.

By this time I was masturbating regularly, both in the "old way" and in the "normal way," but I still could only think about M... or someone else in M's role.  This galvanized my self-hatred above all.

Finally, my growth spurt hit.  I didn't get very tall (5'7") but no one could call me fat anymore.  Everything pretty much came together at once and my body became a wrecking machine... a densely packed force of bulk and muscle.  This made me interesting again to my father as I was being scouted by the varsity football and baseball coaches when I was still in Jr. High.  It came crashing down when a freak football injury in the final 2 minutes of a hopeless game cost me everything.  My foot almost got torn off and I had complete ligament damage throughout the foot, ankle, and lower leg as well as severe damage to the nerves and cartilage.  Surgery wasn't available for that type of injury at that time and they treated it improperly.  I rehabbed as best I could because that was what was expected of me if I wanted to earn parental love.  I came back bigger and even stronger... but my heart wasn't in it anymore.  I finally stood up to my father and told him I quit.  This led to a brawl of rather epic proportions, but he wasn't able to beat me into submission anymore.

The emptiness that followed was a new experience.  I already hated myself, but now I had no clue who I was.  My long-standing identity was broken.  I fell in with the drug crowd.  For the next year and a half I missed maybe 3-4 days without getting messed up on something for the majority of the day.  It was when the town ran dry for a spell and I ended up having seizures that I bit the bullet and suffered through the withdrawls.  I turned to booze to ease the burden.  This was harder since I couldn't be drunk all the time so I made up for it with binges when I could.  As my tolerance built up I was soon downing a Liter of 80-100 proof hard alcohol over 2-4 hours in order to get sufficiently numb.  When this wasn't enough it became drinking more of it, or drinking it faster, or both.  I started blacking out.  People started making sure I was still breathing and I was becoming a burden.  I was still top in my class... that was part of the faking it that I never let go of.  I was a mess.  It came to a head on a night where I managed to overdose on codeine and get alcohol poisoning by drinking 750mL of bourbon in an hour on an empty stomach after taking enough codeine to kill most people.  I woke up in the bathroom 20 hours later in a mess of dried vomited blood.  By 17 I was an alcoholic recovering drug addict who hated everything about himself.

I was no longer masturbating about M.  She was sufficiently out of my league by now.  I kept on going with the things that M did to me and continued to feel ashamed about it.

I had a bit of a wake up call at some point.  I had 8 friends die in 2 years from everything from suicide to being killed by drunk drivers.  After the last one died from anorexia/depression/overdose, I got my shit together and sobered up.  I was no good to anyone (even though people thought I was the life of the party).  I made a decision to change.  Even though I couldn't love myself I knew I could make an impact on the lives of others... a positive one.  I knew I had been through hell emotionally and had managed to somehow get through it without dying.  I sobered up completely.  I started reaching out to people I knew that were hurting.  I was their shoulder.  Their listening ear.  I gave advice where I could.  I was there for them... 24 hours a day if needed.

I continued this path.  I got used a lot.  I got taken advantage of.  If I ever fell in love with someone I was rejected.  I buried my own feelings.  I had become someone who was there for everyone but a person that no one cared enough about to keep around once life got better.  I steered the course.  I finally found love at 18 and we had plans to marry but it fell apart when her emotional condition took a severe turn for the worse.  I steered the course.  I kept failing.  I kept revising, I kept improving myself.  I still didn't love myself, but I kept on trying.  Apparently this was my own training to become a submissive.

Eventually I met K (Reflections part 2).  I took a chance on a woman who would probably die because that's the type of person I wanted to be... someone who would be there through good times and bad... I would be there until the end.  It was through K that I learned that I did have worth and I finally started having that feeling some refer to as "self-esteem."  I finally felt like it was a little bit okay to masturbate fantasizing about being tied up by a woman.  It took half my life to get there but I finally did.  The 8 years of intense suffering through sobriety finally paid off as well.  I was the type of man she could love.

As I look back upon what I have just written... it's a big mess... but I guess that's sort of symbolic of how I was over that span.  I don't know if reading this will benefit anyone, but I feel better about things now that I have written it.

So yeah...

Disclaimer:  the following post may paint a picture of generalizations based upon my experiences with male doms.  I have met a handful of them over the years that were positive experiences and interesting to interact with and I do not consider them a part of this pseudo-rant.

Last night something interesting happened.  Well not so much interesting but more like, "wow, that hasn't happened in a while."  I logged into messenger and got approached by a random guy.  This has happened dozens of times over the years and it's not something I appreciate all that much.  They immediately started asking me questions, including age, sex, and location.  I resisted the temptation to respond "1996, robot, AOL chat room," and did answer back.  They answered my questions as well, including if they got my messenger name from my blog or from a profile search.  It was a search (my profile is blank except for a username).

It was a male in their 40's and they immediately attempted to initiate some D/s interaction.  I made some reference that my Mistress wouldn't approve of this they paused, saying "oh, you serve a woman."  Bam, right back to exactly what they were doing.

While this was the first time this had happened in quite a while, it marked about the 50th time this scenario has happened with me.  Sometimes I see if the person will actually have a conversation but this is usually not the case so I log off.  It's like, damn, I try to build some connections and I seem to be a magnet for creeps.  This is such a contrast from when I get messaged by a Domme.  I'm usually surprised and a little bit awkward/intimidated in these cases, but they are always cordial, kind, and respectful.  Additionally, it's almost always for some conversation with clear boundaries and no expectations beyond some company and getting to know each other (aka building a friendship).

For some reason random men find it normal to open with "you like fur?  I like fur, now suck my dick."  Uhh, no?  I'd break both their arms before that would ever happen.

In my earlier days in the lifestyle I would hop into chat rooms now and then.  I almost always chose some gender neutral screen name that implied I was a sub but nothing more.  My first time in the collarme chat rooms I had 25 private conversations hit me in under a minute, all from male doms.  About 20 of them said the same thing:  "I read your profile and you seemed interesting, I want you to submit to me."  The first 3 or 4 I responded with:  "Great, then from my profile you'd know I am a heterosexual male with no interest in men."  The remaining 5 were along the lines of "Hey cutie, show me your tits and suck my dick."

A bunch of creeps.  I would guess that's partly why they are trolling the internet preying on the horny or those with no self-esteem rather than in a relationship.  I don't know many women, submissive or otherwise, that would describe their perfect man as someone who drives a windowless van with a "Free Puppies" sign on its side.  Any wonder as to why negative stereotypes develop were answered in less than 60 seconds.  If people actually go for that garbage they are just as guilty.

Just because I'm into kink doesn't mean I don't appreciate some decency, courtesy, and tact.  Does this shit actually work on people?  Once I actually explained to one that this wasn't the best way to approach a stranger.  I could hear their jaw hitting the floor from across the country.  They listened intently as I explained that you start with small talk and pleasantries, build a conversation on mutual interests, and slowly press onward if there's a connection.  It felt a lot like explaining to a 10 year old about pulling pigtails on the playground.  I know subs are known to lose their mind when they approach Dommes, but apparently it's most men that lose their minds when kink is involved.

I don't know if I should find this as mind-boggling as I do, but... really? 

It's not that I avoid chatting with men, just please do not come at me like some horny animal demanding that I submit.

I'd get into my real world experiences being around male doms but then this would become a full-on rant post and I'm trying to avoid those.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 21

Author's Note:
This takes place some time after Part 20.


I wake gently.  I feel warmth on my back.  Breath on my neck.  Her scent.  I open my eyes.  She lies with me.  I am the little spoon.  I remain still.  I enjoy the sound of her breathing as she sleeps.  We are together on the bearskin rug next to the bed.  I love this.  Mistress put me to bed on the rug with my collar chained to the bedpost and my hands chained behind my back.  At some point she must have joined me.  I appreciate the closeness.  This makes me happy.

Her arms are around my waist.  I feel her chest rise and fall against my back with each breath.  My hands feel the fur trim of her robe.  They are so close to her, almost touching.  I try my best to ignore the discomfort of the morning wood that is blocked by my belt.  My eyes close again.  My lips can't hide their smile.  My Mistress.  My Queen.  My Goddess.  My Wife.  I love you.

She lets out a moan as she stirs.  Her back arches, her arms slide back into a gentle stretch.  I feel a little naughty.  I tease her.  I move my hands back against her and tickle her through her robe, knowing the fur lining will dance against her skin.  It's her lower abdomen, a few inches above her sweet spot.

She inhales sharply while her body tenses slightly against mine.  Her fingers find my nipples.  They gently pinch and twist.  I let out a gentle moan as my sex strains against the tube.  I hear her react and I picture her smile.

She whispers in my ear.
"Naughty naughty, pet.  Maybe I'll have to get you one of those muffs that you wore at the park."
I blush.

I feel her pull my hands down and back.  She holds them to her sex.  I gently stroke her clit through her robe. She exhales warmly on my neck.  I feel her press her hips against my rear.  She gently grinds.  My fingers continue their work
"Talk to me, pet."
"I love you, Mistress.  I love you so much."

My fingers continue to spiral over her sex.  Her breathing speeds up.  Her hands return to my nipples and tease.
"Mistress, every day I long to see you happy.  It fills me with joy to be by your side."

She grinds harder.  My fingers match her pressure, faster, faster, firmer.  She emits a low moan.
"Mistress, you are the best thing in my life.  You are the reason I live.  I love you."

She squeezes my nipples.  I move faster, firmer, faster, firmer.  Her torso gyrates, pressing into me.  She pants and moans.  Her fingers crush my tender flesh.  I let out a whimper.  Keep moving.  Faster, firmer, faster, smaller circles.

I feel her breasts firmly against my back.  She lets out a small cry.  Her body quivers against mine.  Mistress's hands release my nipples and push my hands away.  She slowly rolls onto her back and takes a deep breath.  I hear her rise behind me. 

"On your knees, face down. Speech privileges removed."
I turn and rise on my knees.  I bow and bury my head into the rug.  I glance over my shoulder.  She has a thin leather strap in hand.  I feel a sense of relief.  It's not "the" strap.

"While I appreciate the wake up, call, pet, that was a little presumptuous wasn't it?"
I nod.
"Good, just a quick little reminder of your place."

She taps my stomach with her toe.  I raise my buttocks higher into the air.  Smack, smack.  A quick strike to each cheek.  I grunt and shudder under the blows.  Smack, smack.  It stings.  Smack, smack.  I cry out.  Smack, smack.  Tears well up.  Smack, smack.

Mistress leans down and caresses my skin.  I feel it swelling and it throbs.  While I do not regret the pleasure of her orgasm, I do learn my lesson.  Not without her permission... no matter how tempting it may be.  

The phone rings.  She leaves me in my chains on the rug and answers.  I hear her voice perk up.

"This is Cass.  Tristan?  How long has it been, 10 years?"
I haven't heard this name before, but Mistress has lots of friends I do not know.

"Yes, I'm free today.  You can stop by anytime after 11.  I'll see you then."

Mistress hangs up and returns to me.  I feel her release the locks.  I turn on my knees and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.

"slave, attend to me in the shower.  We will have a guest arriving shortly."

I gently wash Mistress in the shower.  While I do not pleasure her sexually, I am grateful for this privilege. After she is clean I wash myself quickly and rinse.  I gently dry her naked body with a towel and apply lotion to her body, careful to warm it on my hands before touching her.  Her robe follows and I blow dry her hair while she does her makeup.

My uniform and inspection follows soon after.  After I'm securely locked inside, Mistress sends me to prepare breakfast while she gets dressed.

Mistress arrives at the table and my heart skips a beat.  She's always beautiful but today she is stunning.  I stop in my tracks admiring her.  She wears a shapely cashmere sweater with fur trim that accentuates her cleavage, a leather pencil skirt, and knee high boots.  Our eyes meet.  She smiles at me.  My sex strains.  A shared moment.

Her eyebrow arches and she clears her throat.  I quickly help her into her chair and serve her food.  As she eats I continue to steal glances.  I'm obvious.  She pauses between bites.

"slave, need I remind you of what happens when your attention lapses?"

I snap to attention with perfect posture.

"Good boy."  She continues eating with a smile.

She finishes and leaves the room.  I clear her dishes and quickly scarf down my toast and egg while I wash.  I love her.

After dishes I find Mistress lounging on the couch in the living room.  She smirks and points to the floor near her.  I approach her and kneel, bowing my head.  She leans forward and puts her hand on my head.  I close my eyes.  I hear a pair of staggered clicks.  I open my eyes and notice the peripheral blinders attached to my head harness.  This is the first time Mistress has used them and I had almost forgotten about them from the VIP shows.

"Be on your best behavior, slave.  I haven't seen Tristan in over 10 years."  There's a seriousness in her voice.  Tristan must be important for her to worry about appearances. 

A feeling nags at me.  The thought of serving an ex-boyfriend of hers sends me spiraling.  I fidget.  She pets my head, a reminder to keep my focus.  The doorbell rings.  I spring to my feet and head for the door.  Mistress follows behind me.

I answer the door and the response is a squeal and a laugh.  Tristan enters.  I'm surprised.  It's not a man.  She's a blonde in leather pants and a leather jacket with a fur collar.  Se wears a fur and leather biker cap on her head.  She speaks quickly with animated expressions and body language.

"Is this your husband, Cass?  I still can't believe you got married.  You swore to me that you would never, ever tie the knot."

"It's good to see you, Tristan.  Yes, this is my husband, fs.  You may call him whatever you like, most of my friends call him, 'fur sissy.'"

Tristan laughs again.  I blush.

"Hello, fur sissy, has Cass told you about me?"  She pinches my nipple.

"No, Miss Tristan.  Mistress has not."

Her eyebrow arches.  Tristan walks to Mistress and presses her body against her.
"Really... so you have no, i-dea, just how, hot, we, got."
Mistress blushes.  That is rare.  It's cute.

"slave, take Tristan's coat and hat and tend to us in the living room."

I nod and help Tristan out of her coat.  She's wearing a low halter top showing off tattoos on her upper arms.  She throws her hat to me revealing short cropped blonde hair.  Her ears are lined with various piercings.

They leave the room while I put her things in the closet.  I enter the living room.  They are seated next to each other on the couch.  The are close.  They talk.  They are happy.  Familiar.  Comfortable.  They laugh together.  Tristan motions me over with her hand.  I approach and kneel in front of the couch.

"I always knew you'd end up a Domme, Cass."
"Really... how were you so certain?" Mistress pretends to be firm.
"Because Cass, you always loved to get eaten out but you never wanted to return the favor.  I remember thinking, 'she'll either end up a Domme or single.'  That's pretty much why we broke up."

Mistress blushes again.
"Tristan, you are such a bitch."  She laughs.
"It's true, Cass, I speak only the truth." 

Tristan continues.
"So, fur sissy, I was Cass's first girlfriend back in college."
"It was more of a fling, Tristan."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I made my mark."

Tristan smirks confidently and frames my body with her hands.
"Did you know, fur sissy, that when I met Cass she had never owned a single fur?  Now she has her shop, and there's you... That's all thanks to me."  Mistress blushes again but composes herself.

"Yes, Tristan was quite the little trust fund brat back in college, chasing pleasure at every turn.  I can't remember if she even went to class."
"Hey, like you woke up on time after a night of hot sex."  Tristan touches her finger to Mistress's lips.  Mistress continues to blush. 

"Cass, I have some news.  I'm moving here in a month."
Mistress's eyes widen.  She doesn't speak.
"I figured I'd reach out.  I like having friends."  Tristan's voice shifts into a seductive tone.  "Especially... friends with benefits."

Mistress scoffs, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
"Loosen up, Cass.  I have something for you."  Tristan smiles.  Mistress returns the smile.

Tristan grabs Mistress's wrist, pulls her forward and kisses her on the mouth.  Mistress's cheeks flush red.  Her eyes remain open.  She's flustered.  She tries to pull away.  Tristan's other hand grips her neck.  I feel a twinge in my heart.  I blush.

A few seconds later, Tristan releases and they part.  Mistress slumps back into the couch.  Tristan looks a bit off balance but not totally deterred.

"That was a joke, Cass.  I really do have a gift for you, it's out in the car."

We leave the living room and head towards the door.  Mistress sends me out and Tristan pops the trunk with her key remote.  I retrieve it and carry it inside.  Mistress's jaw drops.  It's a giant stuffed bear made from real fur.

"Tristan, you shouldn't have.  This must have cost a fortune."
"Oh, but I couldn't just show up out of the blue without something for my special little Cassie-bear now could I?"
Mistress blushes again.  They embrace.  I half-expect Tristan to cop a feel.  She doesn't.

Mistress orders me to bring the bear to her bedroom.  I over hear bits of conversation as I go.

"Cass, how's the scene here?  Should I have my subs relocate too, or just find some new ones locally?"
"Are they male or female?"
"Male.  I have one that handles all the indoor chores and another that does the outdoor.  They are obedient, well-trained, and don't mind living a life with zero affection.  I could never treat my girls like that, Cass."
 "I would say to bring them, Tristan.  The field here is a bit barren.  Do you remember Theresa?  She even took on a female sub after striking out with the men."
"Theresa's a Domme now?!  Wow.  I can't say I didn't expect it, but well... actually I didn't expect it."  

Their voices fade out into the distance.  I put the bear on Mistress's bed and return to the entry.  Tristan is gone.  Mistress is lost in thought.  She looks a little conflicted.  I've never seen her this way before.  She seems distracted the rest of the day.  I complete my chores and attend to her as summoned.

That night she puts me to bed on the bearskin rug again.  I hear her toss and turn on the bed.  I glance up and see her body wrapped around the stuffed bear.  Her face buried in its chest, her arms around it, and even her legs wrapped around its lower body.  I feel the twinge again in my heart.

I don't sleep well.


Arc 4 is in the works

EDIT: So much for letting Arc 3 breathe.  Part 21 is now live.  

I have Arc 4 in the works.  I don't have a full plot laid out yet but do have the basic idea that I wish to explore.

Part 21 is over half done but I'm not feeling enough of the drive to finish it tonight so I may hold it back a few days and let Part 3 "breathe" a bit.  As of right now, I'm planning on having Arc 4 be a bit on the shorter side, similar to Arc 3 and deal with a specific underlying subject rather than trying to do anything epic with it.  It feels like this makes it an easier read but it is also a lot easier to write and more likely to succeed at its intended goal (e.g. explore and idea rather than trying to force a plot into being an "important" story).

I have appreciated all of the feedback I have gotten so far. 

A few notes and observations along the way.

-I am finding people are able to easily spot things that I have not actually experienced.  Most recently was my Arc 3 Bonus chapter.  While I have taken a strap on in the mouth before, it was never something huge.  To write this I drew from what I have experienced (small dildos or very large gags) and I was informed that my descriptions were inaccurate to the actual experience.  All I can say is, oops... but it makes me want to stick more to what I know from experience.

-I've actually debated holding some form of "contest" or something to see if people can guess which events are based on actual events, actual fantasies, or are purely fictitious.  I can say that a few of them were based upon actual nightmares (often times ones that I recorded and communicated to K). 

-I have no interest in writing about anything sexual involving other men, so that puts some very strict limits on where I can go in the story.  I would guess that this may lead to some "eye rolling" from readers as I form a lesbian version of a somewhat common D/s or BDSM activity that would normally involve a second man.  All I can say here is, please forgive me.  I encourage anyone that gets put off by this to just picture it's not actually with another woman.

-In most cases, I wait for authors to finish their next volume.  I feel a bit like I'm writing this faster than people care to read it.  I don't mind, it just feels a little strange :)

-I really enjoy it when people let me know when a particular chapter or event really turns them on.  If I can write your porn, I'm doing something right.

Take care and thanks for reading.

Another Blogger WTF

So it appears there are a few users out there that when they post comments, I receive no email notification letting me know when they roll in...

I try to respond to all comments so if you feel like I'm not responding to you it's probably that for some reason I'm not being notified of those comments.  I will be checking the posted comments through the dashboard a couple of times a day to try to make sure nothing slips through.

I did find another comment that for some reason got marked as spam as well.

The mysteries of computers...
"LIVEXXX TITTYFUCK WEBSITE CAM STREAMS DOMINATRIX" gets posted and has to be manually marked as spam.  Actual comments come through as spam.  Go figure. 

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Fiction: fs01 Arc 3 Bonus Chapter - Friday At The Office

Author's Note:

This takes place a week or so after the end of Part 20.


I huddle in the pet carrier in the back of Mistress's SUV.  It's Friday.  I'm excited.  I get to spend the day with her at work.  I don't know what she has planned for today and I do not ask, I'm happy just to be by her side.  After the events of a couple weeks ago things have mostly returned to normal.  I love her even more and she wants to keep me all to herself.

I wear my maid's uniform but my body is covered from head to toe by a large hooded cloak, making me far less of an eyesore to the public.  I appreciate this favor to me but I know it is less distracting to the other workers as well.

The vehicle arrives in the back lot of Mistress's shop.  The back gate pops.  I climb out, close the gate, and open her car door.  She braces herself on my shoulder and climbs down.  She smiles.  I blush.  I love her.

We navigate swiftly through the building.  It's early and everyone is still settling in.  There are a few stares but nothing noteworthy.  We arrive at Mistress's office.  She leads me inside, closes the blinds, and shuts the door behind us.  I release the cloak's ties at my neck and slide it off my body.  I fold it neatly and place it on the shelf.  Mistress's back faces me, her arm extended.  I retrieve her robe and slide it onto her arm, pulling it around her body.  I straighten the collar and cinch it at the waist.  I kneel, bow my head and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.

I notice some changes to Mistress's desk.  The bottom has been "covered" so that you can't see under it from the outside.  Mistress motions for me.  I move around the desk and crawl into the opening.  She sits in her chair, rolls forward, and removes her shoes.

My heart fills with love.  Our time is dear to me.  To touch her, to be near her.  I live for this.  I gently caress her foot.  My fingers slide and press, working her sole, arch, and heel.  I gently rub the tops and work each toe one by one.  I start on the other foot.  Others have entered the room.  I hear Lisa greet Mistress.  They small talk.  Mistress disguises her moans but her voice drops in pitch.  This makes me happy.

Amy enters with coffee.  I continue my work, finishing on her foot.  Pleasantries are exchanged above me.  My focus shifts to her calves.  I rub them in the way that she likes.  Mistress shifts her legs, parting her robe slightly.  I can smell her.  I hear the door close.  Lisa explains Mistress's schedule for the day.  She has meetings with the department heads.

Mistress's legs pull away from me and she slips her feet back into her shoes.  I hear a drawer open.  She reaches down and taps my left shoulder.  I present my hand to her.  She takes it by the wrist and pulls it to the edge of the cubby I currently kneel in.  Both hands now, a click.  She locks my wrist to an eyelet.  She taps my right shoulder and repeats, locking my wrist to another eyelet.  She slides her chair forward as far as she can.  Her feet rest on my thighs.  Her knees against my chest.  My face is inches away from her.  I feel my sex strain against the metal tube.

Mistress taps her toe against the front plate of the belt.  She signals me.  She knows I lust for her.  My Mistress.  The first meeting starts.  Sales figures, projections, upcoming promotions.  I want to touch her.  She drives me mad.  My Queen.  My Goddess.  I love you.

The meetings continue.  Reports on the status of the new interns two and three.  Productivity increases, future plans.  Mistress opens and closes her knees, taunting me.  The next meeting.  Problems in the shipping department.  Possible solutions.  She digs her heels into my thigh.  I bite my lip, forcing silence.  Her hand appears below the desk.  It quickly finds my nipple.  Teasing, pinching, twisting.  My belt prevents my attempt.  My head spins.  The door closes.  Her other hand finds a nipple.  She pinches and pulls, holding my chest away with her knees.  I want to moan but I know I can't.

The door again.  Her hands release.  She spreads her legs.  Her scent intoxicates me.  Another meeting.  Time drags on.  I want to lose myself but I can't.  What I desire sits before me.  I cannot resist.  The door closes.  Mistress and Lisa converse about lunch.  I hear a knock on top of the desk.

"How are you down there, fur?" asks Lisa.  I blush.  She knew I was there the whole time.

Mistress's hand taps my chin.

"I am good, Miss Lisa, how are you today?"
"It's going well, fur.  I'll see you in an hour."
"Take care."

The door closes.  Mistress slides her chair back and stands.  I hear the door lock turn and click.  My heart races.  Alone time.  I hear the rustling of clothes and some small metal clinks.  Mistress returns and sits at her chair.  Her robe hangs open.  Her skirt is gone.  Her crotch dons a leather harness and a very large strap on.  My guess is that it's a Reverb but it's longer and wider than the one we have at home.

Mistress's hands press against the sides of the harness.

"Say hello to my little friend," she says with a giggle, tilting the dildo from side to side.  I blush.  I'm a bit scared.  That will tear me apart.

"I've always wanted to do this, pet," she says as she slides the chair forward.  I feel her hands grasp my earmuff harness.  She pulls me toward her.

"Suck it, bitch."

She yanks on the straps and forces its tip against my lips.  She gives my head a shake.  I part my lips.  She pulls and forces it into my mouth.  It's too big.  She pulls harder.  I open my mouth as far as it will go.  I feel like my jaw is going to fall off.  She plunges it deep inside me.  I gurgle and strain as it forces its way in.  I feel like my cheeks will tear.  The end finds my throat and jars to a halt.  I hear her moan.  She takes one hand and squeezes the base of the dildo twice.  It vibrates.  Mistress returns her grip onto my head harness.

She pushes and pulls, forcing the massive silicon cock back and forth in my mouth.  It hurts.  My saliva finally lubricates its shaft.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Mistress builds a rhythm, the shaft sliding against my fully parted lips.  She moans every time it reaches my throat.  The vibration and force transfer of the Reverb stimulates her.  My face strains.  My eyes tear up.  She moan.

Mistress increases her force.  She pushes and pulls harder with every cycle.  She places her legs over my shoulders, crossing them behind my neck.  Her moans turn to pulses, matching her panting.  Her breathing heaves with every thrust.  A hard tug, a deep press.  I gag.  She squeals and her legs pull tight against me.  Squeeze, squeeze, relax.  Her scent is everywhere.

Her grip loosens.  She moves my head gently and in smaller motions.  Mistress catches her breath.  The pace and range slowly increase in speed.  I feel her legs tighten.  She's pushing and pulling again with all her might.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Her low moan fills the room.  Harder, faster, harder, faster.

Tears flow down my cheeks.  This hurts and I don't like it.  She plunges it deep into my throat.  She lets out a cry.  Back and in.  Another deep pull.  I gurgle.  She pulls tighter.  Mistress lets out a cry, giving a few quick yanks on my harness.  Relax.

She slows for a moment before returning to a gallop.  Back and forth.  Her noises don't stop, they pulse and shift with each plunge.  The dildo fills my mouth.  I just take it.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Harder, harder, harder.  I strain.  She cries out.  I feel her legs spasm against me.  Tug.  Tug.  Tug.  Relax.  Her hand finds the base of the dildo and clicks it twice.  The vibrating stops.  She releases my head and slides her chair away, pulling her legs back over my shoulders.

Mistress's eyes are peaceful.  Her skin glows.  Drool and tears dribble down my face.  I slump my head.

"How does it feel to be my little fuck hole, pet?"  Her fingers lift my chin.

Our eyes meet.  I love her.  I cannot speak.  She smiles.

"You know, this is really supposed to go in your other end... something to think about for later."

I cringe.  I can't tell if she's messing with me or being honest.  The intercom.  Mistress's lunch has arrived.  She stands up and pulls her robe around her.  I hear the door unlock and open.  Mistress returns to her chair.  Chinese food.  It smells like Szechuan.  My stomach growls.  Mistress giggles.

She reaches down and clicks the base of the dildo twice.  It buzzes away.  I hear Lisa's voice.  She's returned with her lunch as well.  I hear "relaxation sounds" coming from the speakers on the far wall.  Lisa is savvy like that, it covers up the sounds from under her desk.

The door opens.  The next meeting starts.  Mistress slides her chair forward.  The tip of the Reverb pokes my chin.  I slump against my restraints, exhausted.  Her knees twitch.  She suppresses any sounds.  The buzz continues.  Just another Friday at the office.

I love her.  My Mistress.  My Queen.  My Goddess.  You own my soul.


Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Rules, Adaptation, and Training

A recent conversation with a friend has gotten me thinking about a few things in regards to punishment vs. reward within lifestyle D/s.  The process I am about to document is one that I have gone through 3 separate times.  If I refer to "her," you can assume it means whichever Domme I was in a relationship with at the time.

I look at sub training as sort of like learning the procedures at a new job.  They teach you the system of how things get done, you stumble around at first, acclimating to it.  Over time you become faster and more proficient and have figured out how everything works.  For a sub, the acclimation process is what training is for.  Once trained, what next?

At some point in the lifestyle, I reached a stage, post-training, where mistakes finally stopped happening.  I wasn't 100% perfect, but any slip ups to rules or protocols were few and far between.  I properly addressed her as Mistress or Ma'am if we were in public.  I opened every door.  Rituals were automatic.  I completed all of my assigned tasks thoroughly and without complaint.  I knew when to have coffee ready.  Everything became instinctive and there were no questions about what was expected of me most of the time.

When I reached this point, I felt proud, but at the same time, a little bit odd.  The corrective punishments that had served as her outlet for inflicting pain were few and far between.  I don't want to sounds too arrogant here, but I am a fast learner and mindful of details.

This led to a period of... I wouldn't say boredom, but "predictability."  I doubt any Domme would seriously consider trying to undo training once it has been established just to punish.  This yields a different solution:  Getting rid of the old rules and making new ones.

Positive reinforcements were no longer necessary.  The idea of these actually felt strange by this point.  Does doing what I always do actually merit a reward?  I thought this was just me performing the role and services I promised.  Being recognized for any individual action became very strange.  What I did appreciate was when she would show me love for all that I do and all that I was to her.  We did have a romantic and personal bond beyond D/s, but D/s was the foundation from the start that held things in place.  With this in mind, my collective efforts were bigger than any one action and she would show appreciation for my work as a whole.

Changing to new rules aided in deepening my subspace, increasing her dominance, and just changed a lot in our dynamic in a positive way.  I am not a masochist, so pain was always used as a punishment under the original rules.   Under the new rules, she could inflict pain for any reason and at any time.

While many might see this as unfair, it didn't feel that way within its context.  This was a year's worth of training coming to fruition... this was the final product.  The old rules did not apply anymore.  While logically, this choice may have been unfair since I had no say in the matter, it actually turned me on quite a bit and made me love her even more.  I felt this decision unleashed a growth in her dominance and it was her "green light" to delve deeper into the sadism within her.  This put me truly at her mercy.

Any reason became viable:
-Because I'm bored.
-Because I want to hear you cry.
-Because I'm turned on.
-Because I want to exert my status.
-Because it amuses me.

I didn't care what the reason was.  I only cared that it brought me closer to her and I could be part of bringing her pleasure.  This is when I could really sense the depth of my subspace going deeper and deeper as time went on.

Keep in mind that I don't think this is how any D/s relationship should necessarily be at the start, especially with newer or novice subs that are having to adjust to the submissive mentality.  Once a sub has put in his time, is seasoned, trained, and performing admirably, it just feels like the next logical step.

I see this step as growth... for both Domme and sub.

I will note that there is always room for further evolution of a sub after their basic training has been completed.  Setting new standards and new rules provide another chance for positive reinforcement... until those too become their ordinary habitual behaviors.

We adapt and that forces us to adapt :)

How much do you know about the clit?

Part of our duties as a sub is to take care of a Domme's sexual needs.  This is a gift and a privilege and for many of us, the most rewarding part of the lifestyle.

I don't know how many of you have done actual clit research beyond trial and error, but there are many fascinating aspects about the clit if you dig into the available medical studies or easier to digest informational articles there's a lot to learn.

The average length of the clit in a woman is between 2.5" and 6".  The exposed portion is just the tip of the iceberg. There isn't a lot of data on the "back end" of the clit, but in the field research leads me to believe that the back end of the clit is the G-spot.  If you are really feeling for it, you should be able to feel the length of the clit that sits below the exposed tip when it is erect.

The clit continues to grow over the course of a woman's life, which can lead to greater sexual pleasure from vaginal stimuli as she ages.  I believe this is somewhat responsible for the large "average" range and probably removes any future for SCH play.

If you haven't ever done any reading on it, I would strongly suggest doing so, it's very interesting.

I will admit, there are a lot of things can only truly be learned through hands on experience, but it never hurts to know a little more about things.

Quick notes about some recent posts

It just dawned on me that a couple of my recent posts may have made it seem like I think it's easier to be a Domme than a sub.

I wanted to clarify my actual stance on things.
I believe that it is easier for a Domme to have subs to choose from but I do not think this makes it any easier for a Domme to find the right or perfect sub from the thousands of messages they will receive.
While subs have far fewer Dommes to choose from, if he does get chosen, it's often a pretty good fit.

A lot of it comes down to luck, chance, timing, etc.

If anything, the courting process is different in this way:
-As time goes on it's easier for a Domme to get frustrated, jaded, and disillusioned at digging through thousands of wankers.
-As time goes on it's easier for subs to get dejected, desperate, and depressed from being ignored or rejected by the small pool of available women.

In regards to the lifestyle, I think that the majority of the stress and responsibility falls onto the Domme.  Any inequality in needs and so on is easily canceled out by the fact that she bears the brunt of the responsibility for the success and failure of the dynamic.  There are ways to institute rules, lists, and rituals that will lessen the burden on a daily basis, but that requires a lot more initial effort and planning than a sub's submission and following of said rules.  Basically, it's less stressful to wash the dishes than to come up with a rule that they will get washed, washed well, a punishment/consequence for if they aren't completed in such a manner, and then having to enforce said punishment in case of failure.

This contributes heavily as to why I think lifestyle Dommes are such amazing people.

A Sea of Thoughts: Kink, Needs, and Insecurity

Just some late night ramblings and thoughts swirl in my head...

I find it is much more common for male subs to feel defensive, ashamed, and embarrassed about their kink than Dommes or even femsubs.  Unless you live in a very conservative area, I've always felt the general consensus when it comes to kink is pretty much this:
-If a woman is kinky, it's hot, sexy, and attractive.  She embraces her sexuality and will be creative and adventurous in the bedroom.  

-If a man is kinky, he's a pervert.  He's some pariah who should be pitied for needing some deviant porn to get off.  The more private he is, the bigger creep he becomes.  

With this in mind, it's no wonder that subs often get so crazy and insecure when faced with telling someone about it.  I think this fear is also why many choose to gloss over their deep personal needs for D/s with "practical" and "acceptable" ones (see my recent post on the 3 C's of FLR).  

It takes a lot of courage as a man to admit,"I need this to my core.  It affects me mentally, emotionally, psychologically, and sexually.  It is indeed that important.  Please understand."

To make things even more confusing, I don't know many women who have struggled with this with the possible exception of someone having some very deep and very dark sadistic fantasies that grow for years without an outlet.  

It just seems strange how it all works.  Generally speaking, if a woman says, "Get out the handcuffs," the man jumps for joy, excited for some exciting sex.  If a man says, "Get out the handcuffs," it has so many other potential outcomes:  
Hurt feelings, aka "am I not enough for you?"  
Rejection, aka "what are you, a freak?"
Acceptance, aka "Sounds fun."
D/s resistance, aka "are you topping from the bottom?"

I just find this weird and I'm guessing at least one person that reads this will agree that it seems overly-complicated.

Another thing that strikes me as odd is back on the needs topic.  

In D/s, a Domme's needs are met on principle.  All of them.  This is the expectation either for the man in front of her or someone from the long line of guys who would love to trade places with him.  That's not saying it's perfect, but I assume that an adequate submissive will meet her sexual, romantic, and emotional needs and it's not a stretch for this to happen so regularly it becomes expected.

A male sub's needs get way more complicated.  You almost have to compartmentalize them all and create a a his & hers hierarchy to determine which ones will and will not happen.  I generally assume that the need to give up control is the primary one, because every need ranked below that... is no longer up to you once the primary need is met.  

This creates another giant inequality.  A Domme's needs are met on principle.  A sub's needs are met (or not met) through some combination of love, luck, merit, discipline, sympathy, mood, timing, environment, and 50 other things not listed here, many of which are not under his control.  

I guess on some levels, if you accept the need to give up control, everything else becomes a want or a preference or a fetish or a desire.  Once you give that control away it's no longer up to you.  No wonder it's so often that we seem crazy.

Early thoughts on Arc 3 (Possible spoilers, do not read until completing Part 20)

Well, Arc 3 ended up by far the shortest arc so far (~8,000 words).  It also has the least amount of sexual interaction out of any of the arcs.  This one had a bit more of a personal fantasy feel to it, so I hope that doesn't prevent readers from connecting to it.

After having some major events in Arcs 1 and 2 I wanted to keep this one a little bit more simple, focusing on 1 underlying idea.  To do this I expanded a bit more on Cass's shop.  The idea that their "adult" section doesn't just deal in clothing, but also works on developing niche BDSM gear that doesn't currently exist.  I don't think I stated it explicitly, but the way I pictured it was that anything that couldn't be crafted in house had its engineering and manufacturing outsourced while the designs and testing stayed in house.

Part 19 was my favorite to write out of the 4 parts and I wrote it as the Femdom equivalent to the "innocent girl alone in the park who gets hit on by the creepy guy who continues to make advances," type of thing.  Sort of a cliche, but it flowed naturally.

I could have stretched this out across several more parts, but honestly... I didn't really feel like writing about a day on the loading dock, or helping with accounting in detail so I kept it stripped down to the "meat."  

As for the theme, I wanted both Cass and fs to sort of discover some things about themselves.  For fs this was the knowledge that when he's no longer isolated with just Cass that he's gotten so submissive that he's a little helpless around aggressive women.  This in turn makes him unable to trust himself and understands the full value of his chastity belt as something other than a rule set by Kimmy.

Cass set this up knowing the outcome but saw it through to the end.  Her discovery was more personal but still valuable.

Something that was in the back of my mind was that I knew I was writing this without any graphic sexual interaction between Cass and fs.  In all honesty, it's exhausting to write the sex scenes that I have done so far and I just don't know if the amount of work I put into them yields enough benefit to the overall story.  If you disagree with me please let me know.  If someone says "Your sex scenes make your crappy ass plots worth reading," I will understand and bring them back in the future.

My only large regret is that I wasn't able to end it where I wanted to without leaving a lot of questions unanswered so it ended up with some "trail off" which I always hate when that happens in movies after the emotional climax.

I'm always open to feedback.  I don't currently have anything on tap for bonus chapters or a fourth Arc just yet, so your input could be my inspiration.

Thanks for reading.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 20

Author's note:

This takes place roughly an hour after Part 19.


I stand before Mistress.  I'm naked.  My body is stretched into an "X" shape.  The shackles pull my arms up and out.  I teeter on my toes, shackles holding my legs spread.  She's beautiful.  Mistress wears her robe and hat.  I was denied the ritual and privilege of helping her into them.

She hasn't spoken since the park except to order me downstairs and to strip.  I was shackled immediately upon our return home and she departed, leaving me to stew in discomfort.  She raises a tablet in her left hand.

"Performance report, Adult Sales & Research Division.  'One was cooperative and agreeable but violated his primary rule set on multiple occasions.  With that in mind, we cannot in good conscience provide a positive report of his services.  Under consensus of the department we grade his service performance with an F.'"

Mistress takes a couple of steps to her left and turns.  I cannot read her.  I know I have disappointed her, I just don't know by how much.

"Performance report, Accounting Division.  'One gave a good effort in completing the tasks that were assigned of him and the ability to learn quickly, but his lack of speed and experience made him far less valuable than an actual employee.  If he were a paid employee we would recommend him for probation and review.  As an unpaid intern, he did provide marginal service benefits and did not require supervision to stay on task.  With all of this in mind, we grade his service performance with a C-.'"

Mistress walks over to the controls and presses the red button.  The motor whirs and the chains pull.  She raises me an inch or so.  I can barely support myself on my big toes.  The good is that I know she will not keep me like this for too long out of fear of harm, the bad news is that I fear something worse will follow. 

"pet, I need you to be honest with me.  Where were your thoughts today?  You may speak."

"Mistress, most of my thoughts were of you.  When I was assigned a task my thoughts were on the job at hand.  But..."  I feel my lip quiver.
"There were a few times, Mistress, where my thoughts were of myself... I wanted to cum.  I'm so sorry for being selfish, Mistress."

"What do you think an appropriate punishment would be, pet?"

"I should be put back in chastity, Mistress."  I hang my head in shame.

"I think chastity is a given, pet, and I don't think that would qualify as a punishment."

"The strap, Mistress?" 

"The strap is meant to correct your behavior pet, this correction is in your mind.  Try again."

I gasp.  Tears well up. 

"I'm so sorry, Mistress.  Please don't send me away."

She doesn't respond.  Mistress turns and presses a button on the controls.  The motor whirs and the chains loosen, lowering me to my feet.  She slowly approaches and unlocks my shackles.  I drop to my knees and bow.  I feel a leather collar close around my neck.  It buckles.  Click.  Mistress leans down and picks up a chain from the floor that leads to a wall ring.  She locks it to the collar. 

She moves across the room and retrieves my chastity belt from the table.  She tosses on the floor in front of me.  The metal clangs loudly against the ground.  I slide my legs into the metal prison that had previously been home to my sex.  The familiarity of the cold metal shocks my system as I pull it up to my waist.  I place my hands behind my head and keep my legs spread.  I keep my head down.  Mistress approaches, adjusts the tube and front plate into position, and turns the key in the lock. 

Without a word or a glance, she turns and calmly walks away, closing the dungeon gate as she leaves.  I'm sorry, Mistress.  I failed in so many ways today.  I curl up on the cot in the corner and curl up for warmth.  No blanket, no pillow, just here by myself feeling miles away from the woman I love. 

The night is cold, long, and restless.  I cry a lot, full of sorrow and remorse.  I don't know what tomorrow holds.  Mistress, I love you.  I'm sorry.  Eventually my eyes grow heavy.  I doze off.

I jolt awake to the ring of an alarm clock placed near my cot.  The key to my collar and chain locks sits next to it.  On the table sits my work uniform and a bowl full of locks.  I feel terrible.  I get dressed and buckle myself in, securing the locks as I go.  I work my way upstairs and it's empty.  Breakfast has been eaten, the plates and cups rest in the sink.  I hear the rumble of the car engine.  Mistress is already outside. 

I leave the house and head to the car.  The back gate pops.  I climb inside.  She does not speak to me on the drive.  At work, I do not join Mistress in her office.  She deposits me in the utility closet with a small stool. 

Today feels like the second half of yesterday, minus my time with Mistress.  Today I assist Amanda in the mail room before lunch and Theresa in Legal after.  I try my best and work as hard as I can.  Mistress avoids contact with me.  This continues until evening.  She has food delivered and eats by herself.  I take care of my daily chores and eat a piece of bread and a glass of water for dinner.  We reconvene in the dungeon before bedtime and repeat the previous day's activities.  I'm stripped and shackled while she reads my performance reports.  Amanda graded me at a C+.  Theresa at a B. 

I spend the next day with Brenda from Internet Sales and Ricki in Design.  They keep me busy with menial tasks.  I try my best.  My heart aches for Mistress.  My spirits are low.  This day repeats as the last.  Minimal Contact.  I earn a B+ and a D. 

Thursday and Friday are the same, but with new departments.  Thursday is spent with Patricia from Shipping & Receiving and Kristi from Manufacturing and Alterations.  I spend Friday with Jeanie from Human Resources and Amy who heads Secretarial.  Secretarial is the first time I feel genuine human contact.  It might be that their jobs are subordinate to someone else, so they take full advantage of my services.  From 1pm onward I serve coffee and they pass me around from one secretary to the next giving them foot rubs, making coffee rounds on the hour.  My sex doesn't twitch a single time.  I feel too sad and miss Mistress.

Saturday when I wake, Mistress is already gone.  The day passes slowly.  I found an extended chore list to perform and that keeps me busy.  My heart aches.  I long for her.  I'm sorry, Mistress.  I miss you.  She returns late at night and retreats to the bedroom without a word.  At bedtime I chain myself to the wall and curl up on the cot.  Sunday is the same. 

Monday repeats like Friday.  Julie with Advertising and Marketing in the morning, Meagan with Retail Sales in the afternoon.  I cry in the back of Mistress's SUV on the way home.  The tears fog up my goggles and soak my mask. 

We part ways in the house.  The same routine as the previous week.  I attend to my chores.  Mistress dines alone on delivered food.  Later in the dungeon she reads me the final evaluations.  I receive an A- and an A.  My first A's excite me but I quickly remember how bad things feel. I toss and turn until late.  Alone on my cot, shivering, haunted by remorse. 

The next morning I wake naturally.  The key is there but no clock.  I release myself and find my maid's uniform on the table.  I dress quickly, buckling myself in and securing the locks.  I rush upstairs, checking for Mistress.  I find her in her room.  She's seated on the bed in her nightgown.  I approach and lower my head.  She's beautiful.

Mistress stands and slips off the strap.  The nightgown falls to the floor at her feet.  She stands before me, naked.  My eyes tear up.  She extends her arm.  I scurry and fetch her robe.  I slide it onto her arm and pull it around her.  I straighten the collar and cinch the belt around her waist.  I drop to my knees.  She lifts a foot.  I ease it into her slipper and repeat it with the other foot.  I bow and kiss her feet. First the right foot, then the left.  I slowly raise my shoulders, keeping my eyes on the floor.

I feel her hand on my head.  She pets me.  I throw my arms around her waist and squeeze.  My tears flow freely.  I feel her hands touch my elbows and I release.  I look up.  Her eyes are warm.  Her smile is deep.  I feel her love.  She sits back upon the bed and slides onto it.  She pats the mattress and I join her.  We press our bodies together.  I'm the little spoon.  Her arms close around me.  I inhale deeply and take in her familiar scent.  This comfort is my greatest pleasure.  I cry and the feelings clash inside of me, happiness and sadness at the same time.

"What did you learn this past week, pet?"
"I'm so sorry, Mistress.  I was selfish.  My sex betrays me and it lies to me with false desires.  After that I just wanted to work hard and make you proud."
"I'm glad that's the lesson you learned from this, pet.  I knew you would.  You always make me proud."

She hugs me and I smile. 

"I'm surprised though, pet.  I learned a lesson, too." 
She pauses.  I feel her breath on my neck.  She buries her face into the fur on my collar and squeezes me.
"I learned that when I'm around, I really don't like anyone touching my stuff."
She giggles.  I'm so happy.  I love her so much.  My Mistress.  My Queen.  My Goddess.

"Yes, pet?"
"What about my punishment?"
"Don't you think this was punishment enough?  I can always bring out the strap if you really want it..."

I whimper.  She giggles.  Mistress gently shoves me away.

"pet, I took the day off work so draw me a bath.  After you've washed me we can put your tongue to good use.  I've missed you."

We talk while she bathes.  The scented candles relax her.  My caresses sooth her.  I'll only be going with Mistress to work on Fridays from now on, which was the day that her accident happened on.  While I'm there, I'll only be under her desk, which is in the process of being modified to accommodate chains and locks.  The unpaid intern test was a success.  They will be interviewing candidates starting next week with a panel of Mistress, Theresa, and Sasha conducting the interviews.  The new hires will be "named" with numbers starting with two and going from there. 

I'm so very happy that this is all over.  I love Mistress.  She is my world.  I long to taste her again.  My sex strains against the belt.  She smiles at me.  I know that she knows.