They lead me back down the hall to the bedroom. i’m still distracted by the butt plug filling my asshole, and feeling a little spacy from all the sensations and things that have happened to me. But i notice more about the room now that i had not paid attention to before.
It’s a big room. Half of it is a bedroom; the other half is more like a study or home office. There are shelves full of books, a computer desk, a recliner, and a rocking chair. The recliner is what He had been sitting in before, when He had allowed me to please Him with my mouth. There’s a small round table with a chair.
The wall opposite the mirrored wall has drapes from floor to ceiling, and i wonder if there’s a window behind them.
“It’s almost time for lunch,” says Selena, “but first He wants you to go ahead and do a blog post.” She gestures for me to sit at the computer desk. There’s a laptop similar to the one i have at home.
“It’s a lot later than you usually post, but He says people will be wondering what happened to you if you don’t do it at all.”
“You can write whatever you want for your blog,” adds Diana, “although He’ll read it and approve before it’s posted. But He wants you to write for Him what it feels like to have the butt plug in.”
i’m relieved, and a little stunned. Somewhere in the back of my head, i’ve been worried about not posting anything on my blog today, so i’m glad He’s going to let me. But approving it before it’s posted ~ that’s a new experience for me. i’m not sure how i feel about it.
“You’ll have about an hour,” says Diana.
They leave me seated in front of the computer, a bottle of water close at hand. i log into my blog, and am delighted at the sense of familiarity. This feels like home.
i write for Him first though.
i write about the sensation of being plugged. How it feels to raise my ass and allow Him to push the plug in, even though my body wants it out.
How small and submissive it makes me feel to wear it.
How sexy i feel, in the heels, walking for Him, the plug accentuating the movement of my ass with each step.
It pours out quickly, the words flowing.
i write about what it feels like now, sitting naked at the desk, writing about it, while the plug stretches my ass. How uncomfortable, and comforting, it is.
How wet it makes me.
But it takes me about 45 minutes to write it, and by the time i reread it and edit, my time is almost up. i hope He’ll let me use it for a blog post today.
i’m starting a blog post for tomorrow when the door opens ~ it is The Major. He’s wheeling a cart, and the aroma from the tray on the cart is tantalizing.
He places the cart next to the small table, and comes to look over my shoulder. “Finished?”
“Yes, Sir, if it’s ok if i use the piece about the butt plug for my blog. i didn’t get two pieces done.”
“Let me see,” He says, gesturing for me to get up. He seats himself at the desk, and says, “First Position.”
i kneel quickly this time. i am still wearing the necklace with the three tokens and that is a reminder to respond immediately.
i’m very anxious as He reads, and He takes His time with it.
When He’s finished, He nods. “Good job,” He says, and the flood of relief His words bring is almost overwhelming. Tears well up behind my eyes.
“Lunch is ready,” He says, “Go ahead and get this posted and then you may come eat.”
i sit back down at the computer, and He seats Himself at the table. My back is almost to Him, but i glance over and see He’s arranging food from the cart on the table.
i work quickly to post the day’s writing, and when i’m done, i say, “Sir? i’ve finished.”
“Good. Come here.”
i do, and i see that there’s a pad on the floor beside Him, like a yoga mat. “O, that’s for me,” i think. i’m surprised at how easy it is to accept that my place is on the floor and not seated at the table with Him.
‘”Go wash your hands,” He says, and i do, quickly returning.
“Sit,” He says, and that makes me grin, i don’t know why. But i do sit, and settle myself as comfortably as i can.
He feeds me by hand.
Vegetables, some kind of roasted vegetables, potatoes and squash and zucchini and asparagus and tomatoes, almost like a ragout. It’s messy, and He feeds me with a spoon.
It is delicious.
More so because it comes directly from Him.
Watermelon, cantaloupe and honeydew for dessert.
i eat my fill. Then ~~
“Ok, slut of mine,” He says. “It’s time for the next step in your inventory.”
My heart about stops. i had hoped He’d forgotten about it, but of course that was silly.
“But first,” He says, and i breathe a tiny sigh of relief, “First I want you to get a switch for your punishment later. I’ve found it’s really effective when you’re allowed to choose your own switch.”
Well, my heart really about stops then. How could He know that’s been part of my secret fantasies, just about forever?
“Go ahead and clear the table first, please,” He says, and i move to do that. “Just put the dishes on the cart.”
He goes to the wall and pulls a cord – the drapes open, and i see that there are glass doors leading to a meadow.
Quickly, i clear the table.
i am trying to stay away from the doors, naked as i am. But ~
“Come here,” He says. “I’ll go outside with you, and bring the hedge trimmers. You’ll want to pick one that’s thick enough to stand up to some hard usage.” And He smiles.
“But ~~” i gesture to myself, reluctant still to get near the glass.
O, don’t worry, no one will see you,” He says. “We’re far enough out in the country that it’s perfectly safe. We often have people wondering around naked on the grounds. Anyone who comes here knows that.”
i obey, slowly, half trying to cover myself.
He laughs. “Arms up, hands behind your head, please.”
Even more reluctantly, i obey. “O, wait, here ~” he says, “Put your sandals on. Can’t go out there barefoot.”
I slip my sandals on, and then, “Arms back up,” He says. He slides the door open, and i feel warm air on my skin. The sun is shining.
“Come on,” He says, “Out with you. I’ll get the trimmers.”
Tags: BDSM, Dominance, fantasy, obedience, Power Exchange, Submission
