It seems my days are either dull and predictable or busy and wonderful… and you know when I try to make it happen, plan all kinds of things to do, that is when nothing wonderful happens. I must learn to be more patient…
Anyway, yesterday, Saturday, was a wonderful day. As usual I woke early, rising with the early spring sunrise, sitting down before 6 am. And first thing, before coffee, he had me across his lap giving me a pretty thorough spanking… triggering memories of the thorough beating he gave me right before I went to sleep last night. (You know falling asleep for the night with the endorphins still singing in your head is fucking awesome?)
I spent a nice lazy hour or so reading other people’s blogs, leaving comments, reading kinky threads on Fetlife, leaving little witty comments here and there, perhaps amusing no one but myself, but all good fun.
Master was messing about with his computer and after a while calls across the room, asking how I felt about maybe going out to a “erotic improv theater” thing that night, no promises but if we are awake and interested??? Wow, Master initiating a “going out” thing… wow. I told him sure… sure, that might be fun.
Then without much warning, Master was in the bathroom, laughing about how many little plastic containers of dental floss I have stashed under the bathroom sink. (I use those “plackers” thingies and the darned dentist keeps giving me floss and I am too polite to say no? And then you just can’t throw away something like that… a “free” thing.) I was protesting and explaining when the thought occurred to me… “What is he doing under the bathroom sink?” And… “Fuck that enema bag is under there. He is going to find it.”
I was up and heading for the bathroom in an instant saying one of my favorite lines… “Is there something you are looking for? Can I help you find it?” …before he totally messed up my messy organization. He was in there and everything… I mean EVERYTHING, out from under the sink and spread across the floor.
He had decided to finally fix that slow draining sink. Again… wow! At first he was a little distracted by my store of strange items, ranging from blow dryers, to enema bags, to latex gloves, to bag balm… it is a bit of safari to go through a cupboard, any cupboard in this house. He is not the only one that has a bit of packrat problem… (Though he is worse, ten times worse than me… well, maybe not ten times.) But I quickly threw away about a dozen of the oldest dustiest items. At least I can throw some stuff away, especially once they are dragged out and displayed in the bright light of morning, he is not quite that disciplined.
He went on to clean out the drain… the nasty black clumps of hair and slime he dragged out were seriously impressive. They were somewhat reminiscent of the decomposing corpses of rats and smelled about that bad. But now the sink drains fast and clean. The place under the sink is clean and organized and I even found some descaling cleaner and the whole thing shines like new.
All this and it was not even eight o’clock a.m.
I asked if he wanted breakfast yet and he said, “No, get dressed. Let’s go for a bike ride.” So we are off and out into the cool morning air. We tooled around the neighborhood for about an hour. I was filled with snotty piss and vinegar. I kept making turns and “riding” away from him, even once taunting him that “he could not catch me.” There was no question that he can go faster than me when he is on his bike, but if he got off to grab me, I knew I could ride faster than he could run… muahahahaha… He was sputtering and threatening to spank me and I was giggling and full of freedom and spunk. But then he remembered that he did have the power, that the leash was and always will be there, and he just used his voice, ordering me to turn where he wanted me to turn. And as much as I squealed in frustration at that reminder that the freedom was an illusion, that the wind in my hair was not emancipation, I followed his directions.
And once we were home, I asked again if he wanted breakfast and he once more told me no, directing me to get my towel and join him in the shower. At first I was taken back. Sex? Now? I was awfully energized. My head was everywhere but at my pussy. But an order is an order and as much as I love to play at rebelliousness, I am nothing but eventually obedient. And there are worse things than getting fucked. And as I shed the bicycle clothes and grabbed my towel, I began rapidly, intentionally changing my mindset, my awareness sliding down to my core, putting my busy brain to sleep, stirring up my primal fires, blowing on those embers.
The sex was anything but predictable… oh, sure it started out the same, the tooth brushing, the ritual scrubbing and shaving, the expected shove to my knees, the familiar struggle to take him as far down my throat as is possible. And with the first gag, I felt those embers finally ignite into flame. Then the push and impatient lifting shove that let me know it was time to stand and bend over, giving him access to my cunt, my forehead resting in its familiar place on the end of the tub staring down at the sweet same vision of my feet, braced and straining between his larger ones. And when he shoved his thumb up my ass I grunt as the excitement ratcheted up another notch. He has been doing this more and more often, making sure my other place is filled as well. We do this, him using me one way, then without a word, signaling with a shove that it was time to return to sucking and then another shove to let me know to stand and bend over again. And then the shove is different, and I stagger for a minute confused, unsure what this new thing is, but as he pushes me down and down, to lie on my back and kneels between my legs, I finally got it and spread my legs wide, waiting for his next whim, his next wish… for his wish is my command.
He took the hand held shower attachment and set it to the harshest of pulsing sprays and directed it at my clit and smiled as I yelped and convulsed. He handed me the sprayer and watched with hot, greedy eyes as I conspired with him, pushing myself higher and higher. His hands were free and soon I found both my holes filled again, and I hovered there, teetering on the edge of orgasm, but he kept changing up the sensation, each time as I am about to slip over, there was just enough of a change in intensity and tempo to defuse the explosion and maintain the build. I didn’t know if it was his intention or just his lack of focus… but I was mindless with excitement when he pulled away and ordered me to my feet, ordered me to get out of the shower.
I was woozy with lust and I staggered as I clumsily patted and dabbed at the water on my skin. He likes that, the fact that he can take such profound control of me that he can so thoroughly turn off my head that I lose some ability to stand and walk, think and talk. By the time we reach his room I have regained some ability to function, the inferno inside me dying down slightly, but I knew it was just an intermission. I was not distracted. In fact I was already anticipating the next act of this play. He pointed at my old vibrator, the one we call “old friend” and as I reachd for it, I asked in a husky voice, “How do you want me?” And he responded he just wants to watch me for a while and I smile and turn around, facing my cunt away from him, placing my mouth at his disposal while I press the intense sensation of vibrations against my sensitized clit. He cannot resist that hungry orifice and soon I am gagging once again. It is amazing how each gag, each spasm of my throat around his hard cock, sends new waves of heat to down my whole body, feeding the fire in my belly.
Deliberately I teased myself, deliberately fighting off the orgasm that was coming at me like a freight train, twisting, moaning around the gag in my mouth. Then he was gone from my mouth, moving around the room and I wads too far gone to open my eyes or stop the rush to the finish line now. But then he is between my legs, and something, one of our toys but all I know is that it feels big is being pushed deep into my ass. It doesn’t hurt, the pressure is amazing and as he slowly pushes it in and pulls it out and pushes it back, deeper and deeper each thrust, I arch and cry out as my orgasm finally takes control of me.
And as I writhe and jerk under his hands, he turns on the vibrations in the dildo and keeps fucking me with it. I keep abusing my clit with my old friend and keep coming and coming and coming… it may have been minutes but it felt like hours. I remember, babbling nasty words, groaning, yelling, laughing and sobbing.
And only after I finally was limp and spent, did he push me around and shoved my knees up around my ears and after wetting his cock in my cunt, moved down and began fucking me up the ass. And for the first time ever, there was not the slightest bit of pain, no burn, no stretching and because I am far enough past my orgasm, I could focus totally on the sensation. It felt so good, his cock sliding in and out of my ass and with each plunge into me, I shuddered with echoes of my spent pleasure and I could feel the surrender to his will grow. And he finally tensed and filled me with his come, I felt dirty, forbidden, dark, nasty… I felt totally used, subjugated, submissive…
Our day was tinged with echoes of that, over and over I would flash back to those moments, and glance at him with happy, hot and grateful eyes… and he would laugh and ask if I was coming again. We went to the Goodwill and Salvation Army and talked about ways to pervert all those everyday items into sick and twisted toys. He was very controlling at the grocery store, repeatedly yanking me by my arm, grabbing me around the neck, growling at me to stay close by his side. Several times I caught people staring, women with envious eyes. And I could not keep a wide, satisfied grin off my face.
We did end up going out. And amazingly as we walked into the small venue where the improv was to be, I recognized a woman who attends the local submissive group with her Master. I whispered to Master that I saw someone I knew and asked his permission to say hi. I introduced him to them, and they invited us to sit at their table. We just sat there, talking about things like the finer points of the labels of slave vs. property, caning styles, subspace, bicycles, playing with other people… oh holy moley fucking moley moley… my reclusive, private, hermit Master sitting with another man who likes the same things he likes and having a conversation about kinky shit. The show was bland and only vaguely funny now and then, but it was great to get out and amazing to randomly run into someone I sort of knew… someone kinky.
Master said he had a good time and said that they seemed nice.
Bedtime was another reflection of what a wonderful day it was. As I knelt at his feet and begged permission to go to bed, he grilled me about my day, questioned me about the completion of assigned chores and actually sent me off the redo one thing a little more to his vision and when I asked, “After I do that can I go to bed?” He said no. He said, “After you do that, you come back and ask again.”
He made me kneel at his feet a long time, stroking my hair and then sent me to bed. I fell asleep quickly… it was a long and wonderful day.