Trembling Heart of a Captive Bird

Daddy had his mouse on the chaise lounge, fingering her deepest parts, nipples painfully pulled and her body aching for a release only he could provide. Outside the sun was coming up, the room slowly becoming a little brighter with each passing minute. In a distance, you could hear a rooster crowing. Inside our bedroom Daddy groaned as he stuffed his cock into mouse.

It was a lovely morning.

Running only a little late, mouse rushed about the kitchen, but she was happy and very relaxed. Music played, voices chattered about the day, and mouse was in a haze that was so wonderful. Even Daddy remarked before he left for work, how lovely mouse looked.

One of those days where she felt pretty. Sexy.

Those feelings didn't diminish even while she stuck in traffic. Or when the housekeeper phoned saying she couldn't make it. Or when the roast she planned to cook wasn't defrosted enough and had to make due with left over chicken.

Even while scrubbing the showers and toilets that day mouse felt sexy.

It wasn't until she remembered it was Thursday demerit day that she went from feeling like the most efficient, sexiest woman that has ever walked the earth, to a jumble of nerves. Over the last few weeks Daddy had put off the punishment, since we've been really busy and our minds occupied with other matters. Last week, since things have calmed down, Daddy in his Master voice assured mouse that the time had come to resume demerits. This was possibly due to the fact mouse had gotten a little too free with her words and had been warned she was one smart remark away from being punished.

Well, more than just once.

Now, she struggled to banish those thoughts and keep on task. It wasn't easy. Nothing seemed easy now. How quickly this whole thing derailed her day. Dinner was ok, the chicken was a little dry and that was upsetting to mouse since the last time she made it, it was perfect. Still she was a jumble of nerves.

Then as the time got closer the more calm she felt. There's nothing she can do to change what she'd already done. Sitting on a chair, he placed outside his study door, mouse fidgeted. It felt too much like school, getting into trouble for something and waiting to see the Nun mouse was afraid of. Nothing can guilt you like catholic school.

When Daddy opened the door and told mouse to "step inside" she saw the cane and the leather strap already out. But he surprised her a little, by saying she should stand in the corner first, he had work to finish. At first she just stood in the corner, but then he cleared his throat in that "you forgot something way" and she lifted her dress.

Not sure how much time passed with mouse standing there while she heard the tick tack of computer keys. Occasionally he'd pause, his chair squeaked and she would hold her breath, then the maddening tick tack sound would begin again.

Finally he stopped, she heard him push his chair back, his desk drawer opened and closed. The tension was mounting inside mouse. He told her to turn around and spoke about her demerits. The several instances she spoke unkindly to him., raised her voice or had displayed a bit too much sarcasm. He said she had on two occasions refused a command, and once closed her legs and another time tried to cover her bottom.

Were any of these things allowed?

Of course not.

"What are you?"

"A slave"

"What is your purpose?"

"To serve."

"Who do you serve?"

" Master."

"Who is your Master?"

"You are Sir"

Yes, mouse felt about two inches tall, now that he'd established that mouse was in fact his slave, he had her bend over a nearby chair and accept the punishment. It could have been worse, and probably was in the past but it was long enough to remind her of her place. When it was over he allowed her to remain on the floor for a while, tearfully remorseful over her actions.

The next day was long, as Friday's usually are, with lots of cooking and cleaning, laundry and all those things that must be completed to enjoy the weekend. We had sent a few text messages back and forth, but just the usual day stuff. He had offered to pick up the dry cleaning to save mouse a trip, but mouse had already planned for that when she ran her other errands (grocery, butcher, bakery and florist).

Once she was home, things were for the moment, quiet and under control, mouse phoned him, also figuring he'd be in the car. He was and after making sure he could talk, code for if he was alone, she thanked him. Of course, you can never just thank Omega unless he's handing you a present, without explaining why. The answer was honest, simply thanking him for caring enough to punish mouse and holding her accountable for her actions and words.

The next Thursday mouse found herself again sitting outside his study door, but this time without the butterflies. It had been a very good week.

Again, the words rang true, thank you Daddy for continuing to hold mouse to the standard you set.