It's been a while, likely too long. Life pushing forward, each day, some mundane, dull or super exciting. We struggle at times to sustain balance, or at least mouse does.
Recently, Master said something to mouse. Not paying attention, embroiled in cooking a difficult recipe (early part of that process), mouse responded curtly to Him.
Master asked, "Has something changed?"
Looking at Him, with a very much deer in a headlight look, in a tiny voice mouse replied, "No, Master." The word Master had caught in her throat. It wasn't the first time He'd put that question to her. Each time she prays silently it will the last. Or maybe not. Maybe it's important for mouse to remind herself that she's chosen to be His slave above all other things.
In the empty house mouse bent herself over the table and lifted her skirt. He grabbed the wooden spoon and delivered several hard thwacks that made her wince, tremble and eventually call out. He parted her legs and entered her from behind while whispering, "mine." Maybe it wasn't a whisper, it could have been an angry growl.
Once she offered herself she knew there was no ever going back. We've had good and terrible times, times where we did think we couldn't continue and yet, we did. It all came back to that moment where mouse begged for His control over her entire being. There was no "collar" to beg for in any literal sense. His control was more binding than any collar anyway. That was what she truly wanted, even if she didn't understand how badly she needed to be under His thumb.
Consent is a tricky word and make no mistake, mouse thoroughly consented to be His. There are times, when she needs Him to be rough with her, to remind her of that place only she belongs. Often she doesn't know how to really articulate that specific need, and has mused more than once how much more simple everything would be if she only could. That's not to say that He doesn't have His own needs. The need to physically hurt her, to make her suffer and cry, and when that passes to hold her until all those broken pieces He's reduced her to come back together. Being a masochist is confusing. Maybe being a sadist is as well?
In our everyday world, we do practice, consensual-non consent. Meaning mouse understands full well that that she really has no choice, no agency or option, except to comply, so that's why when He speaks simply and asks if anything has changed the words are jarring. Deep down, He knows full well that mouse is nothing but His slave. Prodding isn't really warranted, except to remind mouse.
After He flipped her skirt down, covering her reddened ass, He asked the question again and mouse responded. Then she slipped to her knees and groveled at His feet, whether in thanks or in apology, even mouse remained unsure, but the calm had swept her and she was overwhelmed as all the frustration, anger and everything she had been feeling dissipated. He stood for a few moments longer and helped her to her feet and kissed her forehead like a child.
With her mind now empty, the focus had returned and mouse was able to make that very complicated meal without another problem. Dinner was delicious that evening. Together we cleaned up the kitchen, and then it was quiet time for us. Master sent mouse ahead to the bedroom to ready for bed. It wasn't late enough for sleep but mouse readied herself anyway and wondered. When He entered the room He flipped on the television, and sat in His chair, called mouse to Him and pointed where she should be His footstool.
Meditation helps since she doesn't know how long she'll be like that -- on thing is true, her muscles ache after (she's seriously not as young as she used to be). Still the weight of His legs is nice on her back. At least this time He didn't add clover clamps to her breasts and let those hang weighted and touchy. He removed His legs and she felt her nightgown being lifted up and dared to not move. He fondled and probed her smooth sex, drawing out her clit, until she was so close to orgasm, she felt the bit, the pain as her clit tried to crawl back, but couldn't. Soon her nipples were similarly trapped (not with clover but alligator clamps) and she struggled to not cry. The very long penis gag helped that was next attached. it's like harness of sorts that attaches to the back of her head. It's humiliating to her, making her feel more as an object. An "It" rather than even a "she" and Master knows this. The penis gag only begins to invade her throat, but she can breathe around it and through her nose. That doesn't stop Him from holding her nose for a moment or three causing her to mentally panic, before that panic becomes too great, He releases her.
He removed the clamp attached to her clit and ruthlessly began rubbing that area to full arousal once again, but instead of returning the clamp, He pushes it further, rubbing and stroking the area, from clit to pee hole and back to clit. The pressure building is delicious that she barely notices when the alligator clamps are removed, barely but she does gasp as the blood rushes back, down there she can feel her pussy clench and everything convulses in a toe curling orgasm, she even squirted. At this point she is fiercely sucking on that gag still in her mouth.
Alongside His chair is a large floor pillow (much like dog bed), He attaches the dog collar snuggly to her throat and clips her to the lead that's attached to a heavy eye hook in the floor.
"Stay"
The mouse pet obeys, curling up into a ball and falls into a very uncomplicated sleep. Several hours later she feels the tugging of the lead, a toe poking her rousing her from slumber. Blinking the gag is still in her mouth, and Master has the lead in His fist. He leads her along heeling almost at His side, to the bathtub, He watches as she bathes in silence. tells her to be still and removes the gag from her mouth, He says "over" and as she moves obediently to all fours, and inserts the enema tip into her bottom. The liquid fills her making her feel uncomfortable and she also really needs to pee.
It did go on for a while, and for a brief moment she did consider that she was being taken to the mental island and left there where she was something He wished her to be, part human and part animal, the thoughts and concepts like time passing didn't register. It was mediation that went on and on. When He started bringing her out or around He first allowed her to bathe and wash her hair. The gag was gone, and she missed it. He allowed her to wear clothing and walk on her feet. It felt odd.
Master asked, "Are you ok?" and when mouse nodded meekly, He said, "Say it."
The words formed slowly, "Yes Master." Her body actually ached, but her clit was thrumming still, yearning and pleading for more. The thoughts swirling as she remembered all the things she had done and had been done to her and how she wanted more of that. It felt greedy. Even when she thought she didn't want it, now it was over she wanted to get back to that odd place of calm and safety. He let her adjust, climbing out of that place she knew now she didn't want to leave but knew He now required her to. At times the tears welled and flowed, He didn't coddle her, but simply dabbed them and kissed her forehead. He didn't tell her she was a good girl (the memories of Him saying those words were clear during the disjointed time), her body felt used ,but her reflection showed nothing -- except a different her.
Over the next hours and maybe a day, mouse slowly came back to a peaceful place, that place where she is largely unflappable, compliant and happy. That happy feeling didn't leave even when things really did return to normal. The in-laws for breakfast, the kids arguing and Master smiling. He's content and happy too.
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