I have this fantasy…
I took another look up at the clock and winced.
Oh lovely, I’d now been pacing the floor for over two hours. When I looked down I was actually a little surprised to see that I hadn’t yet worn a path into the carpet.
At least, not yet. I still had over an hour to wait.
I’d been up disgustingly early. At least for me, an avowed night owl.
It had not been a night for blissful sleep.
For the same reason, forget about even trying to force any breakfast down.
So I just took a nice long bath and filled the air with the scent of vanilla.
And for once I didn’t light any candles. The way I was jittering about, I’d smack one flying and start the damn place on fire.
I did all those little things that a girl has gotta do, the shaving and soaping with sweet, softening sensual scents.
Then bounced out of the the tub and roughly wrapped my waist length mass of unruly hair carelessly in a towel.
Slathered on some body lotion to keep up with the baby soft skin thing, and considered undertaking the hellacious act of adding a little curl to my normally stick straight hair.
Took me about six seconds to decide that there was no way I had the patience for that challenge today.
Just gonna stick with the everyday straight, heavy waterfall of dark blonde streaked hair.
What the hell, a waist length ponytail of soft, smooth hair carries its own definate appeal.
I was done with all of that by 11 am.
At which point I brewed a pot of coffee, and drank about twelve cups of the very strong brew over the next half dozen hours.
That was a tactical error I snarled to myself, running to the bathroom yet again since I’d started my pacing.
Besides the simple fast of being water logged, I was bouncing off the bloody walls!
“Oh this is great.” I moaned. “Hyper active submissive behaving like a eight year old the day after Halloween. Good one you fricking nitwit!”
“You don’t even need any one against you!” I snarled. “You’ve perfect aim to shoot your own damn self!”
I wondered if things could possibly get worse. In retrospect that was a really stupid question to ask myself in the state I was already in.
Because of course I started thinking about how much worse things might get. And nearly had to tie myself up to keep from literally bolting from the apartment.
I mean I couldn’t hide forever now could I?
And I was already in trouble.
Oh stop laughing. Yeah, yeah, anybody who vaguely knows me gets that I seem to have a talent for finding myself in trouble.
My momma tells me I was born with it.
And that I just get better at it every year.
It was my talent for getting myself in hot water that had me pacing my apartment and telling myself over and over, girl, don’t even think about running!
That’s another thing I tend to do. Anything that makes me feel insecure or unsure, my inclination is to run rather then deal with the situation.
I am not big on confrontation.
Oh, if you back me into a corner I’ll spit, hiss and erupt like a fiery little wildcat.
The problem is keeping me contained long enough to get me to fight for what I want.
I’m learning to though.
Having someone I don’t want to just walk away from helps.
For once, I am more then willing to take chances and expose my secret self.
Sometimes trouble is fun. I like to tease, maybe push a few buttons, knowing what it’s gonna get me and wanting it from the get go.
This bit of trouble wasn’t of the fun for us both kind.
This trouble was me not trusting.
I’m working on it. But it’s not the first time I have been caught in this particular sin.
And it’s why I couldn’t sleep and didn’t eat and am back to pacing a path in that same area of my living room carpet.
I look at that damn clock again and realize my time is up.
I have one last wild thought about heading for the hills.
But there’s that one pesky issue. That little matter of thinking and yeah when he does get his hands on you after you’ve added to the mix by trying to run from this bit of disciplinary action. What are you going to do then?
I think about that thought for maybe four seconds. Then I head meekly towards my bedroom.
So come about six pm, when I hear the door to my apartment open, I am on the bed waiting, exactly as I have been told to be.
And I’ve done every thing he said to do.
And done it with no cheating. The bit gag is in tightly. I’m on my belly with my ankles crossed and my hands up behind me in the small of my back.
I don’t know what he is planning for me.
But I do know that I will not try to get out of it using any kind of excuse.
I will not say a word unless he asks me something.
He knows that I am new to all of this.
And he knows I have never submitted to anyone before.
He is patient with me. I love belonging to him.
If he is angry with me, then I know I did wrong.
If you screw up, you take responsibility. You admit that you did wrong, and you take the consequences. That’s the way you do life.
I am not about to do anything less in regards to something and someone that means so much to me.
He doesn’t say a word when he walks into the bedroom.
And suddenly, for once, I am glad I am gagged. I know if I wasn’t I would be breaking my vow of silence to tell him yet again that I was sorry.
He checks to see if the bit gag is in tight. He knows I sometimes cheat in regards to that.
Then he ties my arms, first the wrists, then around my elbows.
When he folds my legs, and does me in a frog tie, I can’t decide if I am aroused, or terrified.
As I wait for whatever he intends, I realize that scared as I am, arousal lurks as well.
I trust him not to hurt me beyond what I can accept at this moment.
He knows me. I have given myself to him. And I trust him.
My frantic mind lets all fear and worry melt away.
My sub space is simply him.
When the fingers of his flogger first fiercely kiss my back by body stiffens and I shriek into the gag.
It hurts, and for a moment I scream at myself, you want this, you desire this, you have laid yourself bare and admitted…I need this?
The second strike hits lower, wrapping around my ass and the curve of my hip.
I nearly choke on that scream, and the fingers touch down again, slipping snake smooth about and around the wanton bounty of my ass and opposite hip.
I want to scream, as the fingers bite into me yet again with their avid hunger.
But if I could, if I wasn’t gagged, what would I scream?
Would I beg you to stop? Or I would I plead with you to make it hurt even better?
I know I don’t want to be treated like a princess. And you know that as well. I never liked it. I just never had the words to tell that to the boys who courted me.
Those brutal fingers kiss me again, this time right between my opened thighs.
The pain at first nearly overwhelms me.
But I realize, exactly as a second strike flips those fingers against my wet cunt, that I do want this.
You kiss me with those subtle licks of fire for what seems like an aching eternity.
I don’t know what I would be screaming if I was not silenced by the gag.
But I think, I would be thanking you,and begging you for more.
It takes me a bit to realize that you have stopped.
I have slid so sleekly smooth into the excitement and arousal of what you so easily do to me.
Before I can even think is that part over you’re pushing your hard cock into my aroused cunt.
Oh gods, and I remember. Those kisses of fire made me forget for just a bit.
You told me that when you were finished punishing me, you would fuck me.
It was knowing what would follow whatever you’d decided to do to me, that kept me from running.
I want you so much. Anything that comes before having you, I’ll take.
I push up against the downward thrust of your hard cock. I hate this damn gag because I want you to hear me scream my pleasure.
And then I am freed from it, and I purr for you.
I know that you love to hear me moan and whimper when I come.
When you hold me close, and I make those sounds into your ear I can never decide which of us likes it the best.
Is just one of those yummy shared things, I guess.
“Harder baby.” I whisper against your ear, flicking my toungue out to lick around that sweet curve.
You growl against the side of my throat, and your hips pump against me just a bit faster.
I purr into your ear. “Always and only yours.”
When you explode, I come right with you, moaning and mewling.
The best part is when you are still covering me with you body.
“Baby?” I whisper.
“I love you, heart and soul.”
Shrugs, yeah I might be be a brat, but I give myself, heart and and soul to James.