Servitude

Master asks (tells) me to get up with him at 5 am and make his breakfast.  I feel grateful to be useful to him.  I start some sausages cooking to make a sausage and cheese burrito with fried green onions.   I had set up the coffee maker the night before to be ready after pushing the button.   I make Master's tea while the coffee and sausages are cooking.

 I realize some this is going to sound very sappy, but there you have it.  I am a great big sap today.

He comes down and checks his messages on the computer.  He tells me about several women (whom he has already played with) who are flirting with him, which gives me butterflies in my stomach thinking they might come here to play, or that we might go there again.

I stand beside his chair until he gets up and tells me to suck.  I go down on my knees.  After a few seconds he pushes me forward onto my hands and throws my robe up over my head.   He enters me and I groan from the dryness, the soreness, my knees on the hardwood floor.  It all hurts, but in a most delicious way.  He doesn't come, but he stops after a few minutes because it is breakfast time. 

I rise with some difficulty and he takes my arm to steady me.  I feel delightfully used and yet loved at the same time.

We eat together, and then when he goes to take a shower I play on the computer.    I also pack some leftovers for him to take for lunch.

He comes back down ready to leave.  I kneel at his feet as he puts his shoes on.  He pulls open my robe to pinch my nipples and slap my breasts.  Again I feel grateful to be his enjoyment and his plaything.  It turns me on.  I attempt to close my robe out of habit, and he corrects that gesture.  As he stands up and walks away he tells me to come.   I feel a vague helplessness before him as my body reacts to the command, and a great longing for him as he moves away.  After a few seconds I close my robe and stand. 

He gets all his clothes and lunch together and since his hands are full he tells me to open the door for him.   I go out on the porch with him, holding the storm door, and he tells me to open my robe once more to let the freezing air in. It is about 20 degrees out there, frosty all over the porch.   He gives one more painful tweak to my nipple, kisses me and we say goodbye.  It will be a few days, most likely, before I see him again.

I love being his.