This has been in the draft folder since New Years, in fact moues has changed the title several times. Things are good, but different. We are much more Master and slave than probably ever before. How many times has mouse written those words? Probably close to a hundred times. Each time, she's meant them too, because it feels that every time she feels that she can't feel more submissive or vulnerable Master requires that she do just that. You have to dig deep, capitulate time and again and just when you think, "we're here -- we are at the destination," you realize it's just another stop or step in the journey.
The lake isn't needed anymore for mouse to focus on Master, to get that unplugged feeling. Sure the lake is still wonderful and lovely to visit -- we are looking forward to our time over there. The feelings that she was once only had at the lake are now present all the time. Master reinforces her status in the great scheme of things. He values the parts of her that he can see so clearly. He has given her much more than he has taken from her. Something she wishes more people understood.
February was a good month for mouse, not a single punishment was required for the entire month. That's got to be a record. Master was watching too very carefully. Last night, Master called mouse to him, which was a bit unusual. He asked for her to fetch him some tea. So mouse padded off to the kitchen, found the good tea service, and using the good tea had everything laid out including a couple warm cookies. After bringing the tray to him, he lingered a moment and said that she had pleased him. Sure, the cookies were totally unnecessary but a wonderful touch. His sincerity touched mouse so that she began to weep. He, as he sipped his tea, told mouse to undress. He looked at the fading marks from a little more than a week earlier, when he whipped her solely for his pleasure. He unzipped his trousers and had mouse suck him. He remarked kindly on her technique. His hand gripping her hair, controlling her pace until the warm ribbons of seed were forced deep into her throat. Slipping to the floor mouse thanked him, and kissed his slippered feet. There was true joy in her heart at that moment. He has shaped her into a vessel that he can fill up anyway he chooses to.
He marked her body again for his pleasure, to see her body contort and eyes well with tears. He had positioned a mirror so again she could only see her own reflection, the cries and tears that fell. The pain he inflicted for his own pleasure triggered something deep within mouse that she was useful. This was for this moment, the moments before and the moments yet to come, her purpose. To be only what he needs -- the empty vessel being filled. The tears she spilled weren't entirely because of the pain, it occurred to her after. While she was finally quiet, the aches turning numb, the fire subsiding that he remarked about how pleased he has been the last month -- well not just the last month but really the last several months. He did caution that mouse shouldn't rest on her laurels, but continue as she's been doing, again a grateful and obliging mouse kissed his slippered feet and thanked him.