Tuesday, July 9, 2013

How to Describe The Indescribable

So, as I do typically, I tried to write this blog in my head as I worked in the garden.   Pull a radish.  Imagine kneeling at my Master's feet.   Grab some weeds out of the loose sandy soil, slightly damp from this afternoon's rain shower.   Think of him jerking my head back with his hand in my hair, having fondled me to the brink of orgasm, and then commanding "Iowa".   Half my brain says "Huh?" and the rest of it cascades into an orgasm, with the hair grasp, the prior teasing, and that VOICE making it inevitable that I come, even without a command.   It sounded like a command, it was the right voice, but "Iowa"? 

I pick up the hoe.  Start chopping down a row of weeds.   Feeling the sensations of the night before all over again.  The endless teasing, as he pinched and twisted my nipples until my brain was floating into some other space, some region where there are only nipples and pain and ecstasy.

I check the peas for pods, and pull up a few onions for dinner.   The dirt crumbles away off the onions as I imagine Master hitting me, slapping and punching my breasts, caning my ass, sternly reprimanding me for trying to move a few centimeters away from the cane, bidding me to hold still and not try to escape.  

I was far into subspace, so that after he fucked me I simply passed out.  I didn't even reach for him or want a cuddle.  I just lay back and passed out, slept for I don't know how long and I think he did the same.   Eventually we woke to turn off lights and go to bed properly all cuddled together.  

I notice the beans are looking good this year.  I pick all the peas.  Time to put up the hoe and go inside to cook dinner now.   The blog is half written before I sit down at the computer. 

1 comment:

  1. Those memories are so nice to carry you through the day of doing regular things.


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