Sometimes it is all fluffy and fuzzy and good times.
And then there are the days when he's telling me "Do this, do that, make me a sandwich..." and I'm doing it, exactly what he says, the whole time thinking: "The very next thing he says, I'm just not doing it, I'm getting in the car and I'm taking a little trip. Not far. Just down to the next town for some shopping. I'll be back by dinner. But fuck it if I'm asking if I can go. I'm just getting in the car and going". But I don't. I can't.
Even though my mood and my attitude just sucks big old donkey balls, I still obey. The whole time I'm telling myself "You're no slave. You are the worst wanna-be slave that ever lived. Cheer the fuck up! What have you got to be sad about? Look at all of this that you have, how lucky you are that you weren't born a street urchin in Bangladesh!! Stop being so god damn mopey!"
Some how that little pep talk does nothing to improve my mood.
Then he calls me over to his side, after he has finished his second sandwich.
"I know what would cheer you up", he says, very confident. "You need to get fucked."
I look at him doubtfully. I don't want to. I'm moping.
I tell him "I don't want to".
He looks at me, shocked, because I NEVER say that. I just don't.
"I didn't ask if you wanted to, did I? That is my cunt and I am going to have it." He said a few more similar things in the same general tone.
We started making some chili together, and he made me suck his cock right there, down level with the chopped onions on the cutting board. I wondered if I was going to cry. I wondered if I did, would it be from the onions or not.
When he ordered it, I followed him meekly upstairs. I stripped and waited naked in the cold while he went to throw another log on the fire. It was freezing up there, with the wind whipping right through the walls.
Once on the bed, I told
him I might try to fight back and he held me down by the throat and told me I
didn’t have any fight in me. I was going to fucking enjoy it. I was going to beg him for it. Then he
hit me in the boob, and on my cheek and told me to come. I did come, I did beg for it and I did enjoy it.
He was right too, all I needed was a little forcible fucking. The bad mood is gone like a morning fog.
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