This blog contains information that is adult in nature. If you are underage please leave at once.

Monday, September 15, 2014

On Her Knees

Early on during our time away, after waking very early before dawn and unable to fall back asleep, mouse slipped from the bed and padded off to the kitchen. It's nice when the house is still -- doesn't matter where we are, it's just a nice comfortable quiet. Wearing only her pajamas Sir requires, mouse walked outside. The deck beneath her feet wasn't warm, or cold, comfortable, yet damp from dew.

It was dark, the birds only just beginning their alerts of the coming day and mouse sipped the coffee she just made and lost in thought about dreams and random things. Startling her, hearing the sound of Sir's voice snd whipping around to the direction of it, mouse smiled. Embarrassed perhaps of being caught outdoors in her pajamas. Sir was leaning against the porch, his hair mussed and wearing his boxers. He woke to an empty bed, and decided to search for his wayward slave.

He declined coffee, and instead told her to kneel. It wasn't a request, but a command or maybe a demand, but delivered in his normal abrupt yet matter-of-fact tone. At that moment, mouse balked, with the "what if's" playing through her mind. He repeated the command for her to kneel and without too much more hesitation she did but some distance from him. That seemed to amuse him a little a bit of unexpected from the slave. He questioned if she trusted him. Of course she did. He moved toward her lowering slightly his boxers and took her head to guide her mouth to him. There in semi-public view mouse pleasured him orally.

Sir orgasmed as the sun was rising, which somehow seemed appropriate. He reminded mouse to always trust him -- he knew everyone was still fast asleep and there wasn't any concern of being caught. Soon the only sound heard above the birds was the sound Sir's hand swatting hard, the bare backside of mouse, and her muffled cries.

After the punishment was carried out, Sir asked if mouse had given herself an enema yet. Upon hearing the answer we returned to the house and went into the bathroom. He pulled out the equipment and filled the enema bag, he had mouse assume the position and inserted the tip himself. There was something fitting and debasing about all this that had mouse knocked off balance.

Sir remained to observe the whole thing, and after proper cleaning was achieved he inserted the larger plug into her. A haze settled into mouse's thoughts, clouding everything and that continued until much later in the day when Sir whispered that it was time for the plug to be removed. Finding a quiet, discrete moment during the day is often difficult but Sir had planned for this. Everyone was out.

Inside the bedroom Sir watched as the plug was removed, washed and stowed away, then again watched as his slave undressed completely, kissed the leather strap and cried as she felt it fall across her breasts. Soon her body was pink, verging on red and on fire for Sir. He allowed her to slip into that comfortable space and fucked her soundly in the ass. Without hesitation mouse cleaned him off with her mouth.

Now mentally drained and vacant, Sir tied mouse up and allowed her to rest, when she woke, there was no sign of the rope, or anything else, save for mouse still being nude. A note beside the pillow scrawled by Sir instructing her to dress, eat a little something and relax until he returned. After another brief maintenance spanking, given to mouse as we walked on a trail, he asked for mouse to compose some thoughts about their day so far. While Sir is always very economical with his words, mouse is not, meandering around thoughts until finally reaching the point. Sir is patient with her this time, and allows her to speak. Being used outside while yes, exciting (in that naughty way) also upset her and even made her a teeny bit angry with him.

It wasn't that he was using her as an object (or maybe it was), it was about doing what probably should be a private act in a public way. Sir pointed out there wasn't an audience and it was hardly public. Why was it, to mouse, ok to spanked way out here a good few miles from home? Was this area more private? Did it meet an unseen or unrecognized criteria? To make a point Sir cleared away some dead brush with his shoe and instructed mouse to kneel at his feet. Unzipping his shorts he touched himself, but this time with his other hand he lifted her teeshirt and fondled her breasts tugging on the nipple rings. Then he instructed mouse to masturbate, right there on the trail.

Sir asked if mouse were wet. Such a simple question that somehow made her cry out a betrayal that yes she was.

The whole thing made her feel angry, humiliated, debased, aroused and confused. He told her to pick one emotion or feeling and expand it. Humiliation was what she chose, which bled into anger with him. Calmly he listened, then used her there still in the woods. What if someone found us? Nobody did, but wasn't out of the question. He laughed saying it was far more likely that we'd end up with poison ivy than being "caught".

No worries though about that. What would be the worst? We could survive a little embarrassment. We continued talking as we walked back and mouse relaxed. It was about letting go of fear and trust him. Trusting that he would guide mouse, keep her safe and show her that there wasn't anything to really fear. In the end those moments of that day while we were alone, was important to mouse and had great value to her.

Eventually, the area became increasingly likely of being discovered so he immediately suspended our walks, and resumed the maintenance elsewhere. But each time, there was more trust afforded him. In some ways that thought upset mouse;didn't she trust him before? The confidence [in him] had been shaken, but now even mouse saw how silly that was. No real harm had been done. The very worst was a few salacious eyebrow waggles from someone who was unsure what happened anyway.



  1. Oh, that is so hot! I used to be a lot more nervous in those semi public acts. Now, I went from "getting used to it" to "loving the risk and thrilling in it". Haven't been caught out yet, other than when he had me flashing truckers on the road! Gahh!

  2. I wonder why it is we are so afraid of being "caught".
    very thought provoking post mouse. :)

  3. I understand this post all too well. The hesitation, the humiliation, the anger, the confusion. My Master very much enjoys pushing my limits in similar ways you experienced in this post. It's not so much that I get angry with him anymore but there is still that slight you really want me to do this!? Even if that hesitation is only a split second, he can see it. Also, I can't quite figure out how to shed the feelings of being self-conscious and modest in these situations. He reminds me that there is no need to be embarrassed...that if caught, it is not my problem, only his because I am only doing what he's requested but still, the human emotions sometimes just take over. Great post!

  4. I find myself irrationally angry with Sir, on occasion, and spend a lot of time wondering/analysing why. I never reach a conclusion which is satisfactory to me, and then I get frustrated.
    Sometimes I think it'd be better for me if I simply allowed Him to make these decisions for me, trust that He won't allow me to fall, and be more comfortable with my's been questioned of late, and I hate the feeling it creates

    Flip x


All comments are moderated.