I was ordered to post today. It’s not that I don’t want to, I have lots to talk about (imagine that!) but I can’t seem to put it into any sort of sensible order. So, pre-apology if it’s jumbled.
We had a kid free weekend and wow… did Master ever take advantage of that. From the minute I got back into the house after dropping the kids off I was naked. I wasn’t allowed any clothes until we left to pick them up Sunday evening. I wasn’t allowed to speak unless answering a question. (And for the record, I failed miserably on that rule.) I was chained to something in every room we were in.
The jaw spreader was used while He fucked my throat and it wasn’t until yesterday that my jaw felt sore.
He carved on me… “owned” on the right tit, “slave” on the left, “slut” under my breasts (which hurt like a motherfucker), and “cunt” across my ass. For some reason the “cunt” just made my ass sting all weekend. That was the first thing He did Friday night and I remember thinking that He had just ruined my enjoyment of any spankings to come but it didn’t. Yes it made everything hurt more.. every swat seemed ramped up.. the cuts repeatedly broke open and bled again.. but it didn’t ruin it. It heightened it. Every time I sat down, every time He brushed across my ass.. every thrust of His hips as He pounded into me.. I didnt once forget that I had a large C U N T marking His territory.
I ate next to Him on the floor. I liked that alot.
On Saturday He led me down to the basement… the bare-cement walled, spiderweb covered, void of all furnishing, COLD basement… locked the chain around a post, handed me a broom.. and walked back upstairs. For awhile I stood there.. battling first the Blair Witch demons (I am such a baby about scary movies, I slept with a night light on until I was married). Then I battled the spider heebiejeebies. (I actually only saw one small one the whole time I was down there.) I battled keeping my mouth shut and not *screaming* at Him to either stay down there with me or let me the fuck back upstairs. And then I got cold. Really cold.
So I swept. And swept. In as big of an arc as the chain would allow me to go. Master came down once and fed me His cock. I can’t remember if He spoke to me, I don’t think so. I remember His sweet taste soothing my dusty throat and then He was gone. Talk about feeling objectified. Used. And unimportant. Mind-blowing. He came down later and moved the chain to a different spot so I could sweep more. I know I was trying to find a balance with the sweeping, just hard enough to keep me warm but not to make me sweat. I would sweep too fast and get sweaty and then freeze to death from being damp. I was dirty and grimy and dusty. I felt like Cinderella…lol.
But I loved it. I loved the whole experience of being down there.. and ignored.. and made to work like a slave. Used as nothing more than a sex toy. I was flying.
Eventually, some forever later, Master came down.. unlocked the chain.. drug me back upstairs.. and locked me to the refrigerator door handle. He told me what to make Him to eat. He carried His food into the other room while I sat on the kitchen floor and ate alone. I don’t know why doing such submissive things when nobody is watching affects me so much deeper. It’s one thing to be sitting on the floor at His feet and another to be sitting on the floor when He is nowhere to be seen. Weird.
I was pushed down and fucked.. I licked His semen off of a plate.. I was ignored and used. I don’t think I came down to earth for all of Saturday.
Then came Sunday morning. I woke up and He was nowhere to be seen. And I had to pee. So..I hollered. I mean, what’s a girl to do??
“I thought you weren’t supposed to talk, cunt.” He hollered back.
I waited a lil bit longer.. stewing.
“I gotta pee!” I yelled after awhile.
I heard the scrape of a chair and His angry stomping feet and I tried to disappear into the blankets. He loomed over me, all 6’4″ and some 200lbs of irritated Master-ness and swatted me, not lightly, across the cheek. “Shut up.” He said.. and then stomped away.
I did.. for awhile. Then I said, almost quietly, making sure He could hear me but soft enough that I could pretend I didn’t mean for Him to hear me, “i have to fucking PEE.”
He came back with a bowl from the kitchen… set it down in the middle of the living room.. pointed at it.. “there’s your toilet.”
Now.. He had told me that using the toilet was a privilege. But I didn’t think He meant it! The whole bathroom thing is… private. I’ve been over this before. My bathroom bodily functions are off limits! Or they were… *sigh*
What followed was a four hour marathon of absolute stubborn refusal. I was *not* going to squat in the middle of the living room and pee into a tupperware bowl.. in front of Him.. like some .. some.. dog pissing in the yard! I was not. I refused. I cried. I begged. I sulked and pouted. I cajoled and whined and used every damn trick I had. And I almost won. I could tell that He would get close to giving in which only fueled my resolve to win this battle.
I didn’t win. I was seriously starting to feel ill from needing to go so badly. I know it’s such a simple thing for some… it wasn’t for me. Squatting over that bowl.. while He took pictures.. and laughed… was THE hardest thing I have ever done.
Afterwards I had a serious meltdown. The whole weekend, ending with that little pissing contest just blew up inside of me and I went postal. I was literally slamming the toys back into the toy box.. whipping the chains and the cuffs in.. and bitching. I hated that the weekend seemed to be ending on that sour note, even though it was my own doing… and I hated that submitting to that.. giving in and obeying (belatedly) to peeing in that bowl… had been… nothing. No big deal. No trumpets or balloons. No trophy. I don’t know what I expected but what I got was…. nothing. He wasn’t surprised that I did it. He wasn’t astounded at the depths of my submission. He already knew I would do it. His confidence that I would acquiesce seemed to belittle what was a HUGE deal to me.
So He bent me over the bed and whooped my ass and back with that goddamned evil leather belt of His until I had cried it all out… and mentally moved back into my place. Whipped into submission *is* a good thing.
Once that was all over we had a nice rest of the afternoon.. lots of play and fucking. Lighthearted and fun… just what I needed to make the transition back to mommy.
I am in love with being a slave. Being His slave. I am in love with Him. It’s all wrapped up and wadded inside of me… I’m having trouble keeping a coherent thought in my head. I suppose thats the goal. I am unable.. or unwilling.. to let my thoughts move beyond pleasing Him.
Did I please Him? How can I please Him more? Am I pleasing to Him? Use me, hurt me. Take me. Deeper Harder Faster.
What more does a cunt need to think about?
I love You Master.