Good morning friends. We had a fantastic weekend here. We were able to shirk our normal parenting duties in exchange for much needed alone time just the two of us. Friday night Daddy decided to place a collar around mouse's neck and kept her tethered and without any clothing. He said jokingly she hadn't earned the right for clothes.
He ate the food mouse had cooked for dinner, and sweetly fed mouse from his plate. The roasted chicken turned out very good. Daddy untied mouse and led her into the kitchen where he reattached the collar and told her to stay put while he cleaned up. All mouse could think was -- "hey go for it."
On the kitchen table there was a sack that did seem vaguely familiar to mouse, and suddenly a rush of memory returned. MOUSETRAPS!
Not long after mouse recovered from feeling woozy from head spinning memories, Daddy pulled two from the sack.
"Hands above your head slave."
"Yes Daddy." replied mouse with a sweetness in her voice that was more of a manipulation than sincere. Yeah...no, it didn't work on him.
Ignoring the Daddy remark, he removed the nipple rings, and then applied a mousetrap to each nipple. Now it should be said the pain of a mousetrap is when it snaps closed. When closed they're really not too terrible. Except for the bendy thing they do. They become heavy feeling. What went through mouse's mind was wondering what he wanted. Did he expect something? Argument? Struggle?
The question was answered when placed gently a third mousetrap on her tongue. Then he spoke about developing the inner pain slut in mouse. At this point tears were pooling in her eyes because he was stepping close and bending those traps on her nipples.
"Oh stop," he smirked, "You love this. You like not having any control and being bereft of options."
Well, yes, that's kind of true now isn't it? For all the balking about pain, deep down mouse was excited. Even recounting this, admitting it in the blog mouse feels a burn of humiliation. More about that later...
Eventually he removed the traps from her and replaced the one on her tongue with a penis gag. Muffled cries of relief from mouse. Even though he said suck the platic thing, she couldn't help herself. He led mouse upstairs, carrying with him a few things, and led her to the bathroom. He hummed to himself and whistled as he got out a plug, enema bag and laid them beside his riding crop.
Wordlessly mouse watched, and wondered how long had he been planning this? He had mouse bend over and he inserted the tip, released the water. Soon mouse was whimpering and was told again, she loved this. Holdong the water wasn't enough, she was made to lie on the floor and rub her clit as she waited. Because, she's a slut. A wet slut. A wet slut who likes this.
Yes, she is. The bloated pain, the throbbing between her legs was confusingly erotic.
"I think you want to suck my cock. I believe you need to."
He removed the gag from mouse's mouth and told her to beg for it. Now she's still in a whole lot of discomfort, her belly is distended and hurts from the enema, yet she begged and pleaded for his cock.
He had mouse sit against the wall with her legs parted wide and said to keep fingering her clit while she sucked him. As much as mouse wanted to float with all this, she couldn't because she had an ass full of fluid. Finally he finished and orgasmed then he seemed to muse to himself about mouse probably really needed to release her bowels. Then he slipped the gag back into her mouth.
"Was the slut told to stop rubbing herself?" it really wasn't a question, more like an observation. But mouse resumed rubbing her clit. It wasn't long after he told mouse to empty herself. All she couid think at that moment was about damn time. He also watched. That always bugs mouse. It's private. It's humiliating, of course he knows that. At that moment however, mouse wasn't about to make this a battle. After mouse cleaned herself up, he inserted the plug.
He tormented mouse more until bedtime. Then when mouse begged permission to enter the bed...
(in mouse's mind the literal sound of a needle being dragged across an album played in her head)
"Wait what?" then quickly added, "Master."
"You heard me slave."
Then he climbed into bed and mouse curled up on the floor. At some point during the night he woke mouse and used her -- then he let her curl up beside him in bed. The plug was removed, which always makes mouse feel empty. Thank goodness he fucked her ass. It didn't feel quite as empty after.
Saturday, sometime after breakfast of fruit, scrambled eggs and coffee, mouse's mind settled into the foggy haze, where her thoughts like words, just flutter away and she can't find them. Words she can hear leave her just as quickly as do things done to her. It's like a snapshot, moments captured in her mind but rather like a puzzle that can't be put together. His hand. The riding crop. Pain. Intense pleasures. The fog envelopes her, consumes her and then slowly diminishes her into a supplicant. Humbled, begging her Master, or repeating words he wants her to say. 'Yes, Master fill the cunt's fuckhole ' as she writhes for him dangling from some unknown spot.
Master is patient with her when she's like this. He doesn't expect her communicate much of anything. In fact often he'll keep her gagged with the penis gag. He can keep his mouse in this altered state, as long as he wishes and it pleases him.
When she did begin to feel the fog lift (which was late Saturday night), Daddy was there, comforting her and being the tether that held her in place. Like the string and weight attached to a helium balloon. Even though her body felt stretched, bruised and invaded, still she felt warm and loved.
There's no shyness to her, after this. There's no need to hide any part of herself from him. If only there was a good way to bottle that feeling so it can be used anytime, when mouse does feel like hiding herself. Or maybe this time thoughts are banished for good?
Yes, one or two tags simply aren't enough.