We had a moment, the house was quiet and even though it was late, we began to fool around. It was good, but over way too quickly.
It feels like we're ships passing in the night. Both of us busy off in different directions. It just stinks.
Daddy says just a couple more weeks. Maybe three and things will settle down. Of course he said that three weeks ago. Good things happen to those who wait?
Hopefully.
While our dynamic has remained mostly unchanged, there has been for a few months now, a shift mentally in mouse. It probably started in November, just before Thanksgiving, when mouse met some friends for Sunday brunch. There wasn't anything odd about how mouse was dressed -- yes, she was wearing a butt plug, but that's really nothing new. What did feel different, aside from feeling quite pretty, sucking Daddy's cock, and receiving a quite satisfying spanking, mouse couldn't shake the feeling everyone knew.
This wasn't a terrible feeling, slightly humiliating and yes, somewhat arousing, but not what mouse would describe as distressing. It was more unsettling. It was as though the words 'Dirty Slut' were stamped on her forehead. Now, it probably doesn't help that Daddy's been requiring a more vocal mouse at times when we play. "Tell Daddy you want to be slapped." That sort of thing.
A few weeks ago, while at the big supermarket, mouse truly couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around her knew what a degenerate kinky slut she is. The kind of girl who will gladly drink piss and suck cock after it's been in her ass. The kind of naughty girl that doesn't wear panties. The kind of girl who really wants to be fucked against the wall (or on the apple bin). After all she's just a dirty, slutty girl.
A while ago, mouse was talking to Daddy about this. He upped the ante, by saying things that made her skin crawl, and made the area down there just ache. He added fuel to the smoldering fire by saying all sorts of things. Which all came to a head the next day when she called him at lunch. He spoke very dirty to her and even told her to play with herself. Unable to resist, mouse in an underground parking lot (which he was well aware where she was) hiked up her skirt snd stroked herself there in the car, coming very close to orgasming when he stopped her.
After several breathless minutes, off the phone and driving home, mouse felt debauched and even somewhat humiliated. The housekeeper was there, mouse stayed to cleaning the areas that are her responsibility, our bedroom, his study because we can't have our housekeeper stumbling across our dirty secret, can we? Or maybe she knows that mouse enjoys being smacked with a cane on her bare bottom? Even now, writing this, mouse wants to clarify the housekeeper likely hasn't a clue
The thoughts played in mouse's head until later that evening after the house was quiet. Daddy pulled mouse close to him and whispered instructions while she touched herself. It was incredibly erotic. Especially when he suggested that she just tap her clit with a finger. All the while he kept edging mouse, with this sexy combination of pain and deep pleasure until he had on all fours, and she felt she was going to scream when he whispered into her ear that she likes being fucked like an animal.
When he traveled recently, he would send mouse messages that made her blush and want to erase after reading. Our phone conversations were highly erotic also, where mouse confessed all sorts of things (guided by Daddy).
There's a definite love/hate thing going on within mouse with part of her loving this, the talking dirty and feeling like a slut, and the humiliation that everyone that sees her somehow must know she's just a wanton slut who wears a butt plug at the behest of her Master.
If someone told mouse a decade ago that she'd be happily married to Omega, she would have snorted out a laugh and it's quite possible that she would walked away. Nothing could make her believe that would come true. Yet it was ten years ago that he did wander back into her life and changed everything. It didn't happen quickly, it was slow and surprising.
One day, at work she turned around and saw him standing nearby, after blinking and rubbing her eyes in disbelief she ran the other way. Sure eventually we spoke, we saw each other casually, very casually at first. He was in no rush and neither was mouse. Like an orbit that slowly with each pass moves a little closer together. Time, the great equalizer, helped us both to see that we did always belong together.
Even if the days of objectification stretch into weeks of sex from behind, without a chance for a proper orgasm for mouse, his hands pawing, kneeding, twisting already sore breasts. It reminds her, often painfully that she's there for him to use. The payoff she recieves is different. While she's rarely paid in an orgasm, often she feels the security and the safety of being in his arms.
He makes certain her car is safe to drive, that the carbon monoxide detector has batteries, that our applences she uses are safe -- that her life is as worry free as it can possibly be. He hides from her, whenever possible the unplesentness of the world. He knows that he simply cannot sheild her from all of it, and when the worldly fears get to be too much, he will embrace her until the alarm she holds subside. Without words Master/Daddy/Omega demonstrates how important mouse is to him. While at times our orbit might wobble slightly, it does remain true.
The simple truth, or perhaps the honest truth is that she doesn't know when our roads merged or how we ended on the road we're on. Maybe it's best not to question it?
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.
Despite it downright being freezing outside mouse caught a glimpse from her kitchen window at the moonlight dancing on the river way below. Of course in her head she could hear Audtrey Hepburn and imagining her on the fire escape in the film Breakfast at Tiffany's.
That morning Daddy had left for a meeting and wouldn't be expected until the next day. Still, before he left he used the cane on her bottom and it was smarting awful. It made mouse not want to sit at all, so she spent the day gladly cleaning. Anything was better than sitting. Sleep that evening was difficult, but that was expected.
At night mouse had a terrible time falling asleep.
In the morning mouse did all the things that she knew Daddy would require (shaving all the body-parts) and getting the house in order for dinner. We had extended family for dinner that evening, so mouse wanted everything extra special. By the time he walked through the door, quite honestly mouse was completely ready for a nap. The roast came out great and we had a few hours of laughter and fun.
At bedtime, Daddy looked over his slave's body, then used it. Saturday was similar, he was very stealthily objectifying mouse a good deal. It made her feel warm and useful. It's odd how she feels that way at times. His seemingly indifference toward her, makes her feel useful. Weird.
Sunday morning we lingered in bed too long, with mouse pleasuring Daddy with her mouth. Then we had to play "catch up" breakfast getting things settled. Daddy had some work to do, and mouse wanted to get dinner finished (yes it was still morning or very early afternoon). Threw a chicken into the oven with a pan of vegetables.
Then we dressed for a open house party. Good friends bought a new house and we guess decided to throw an open house party to show it off. It was really lovely. Very nicely decorated (they don't have kids), everything looked crisp and fresh. The family room was exceptionally nice, bright and sunny (despite being dreary outside) with a wall of windows. Their kitchen is simply to die for,(complete with lovely butler's pantry) pity neither of them cook
It made our home look and feel just meh.
Our floors, while fairly clean (mouse says fairly because they're impossible to keep really clean), they're scratched from kids and animals and mared from being walked on. Our house looks used. Their house looked all new...
Sure our house is older construction, and we haven't lived here long -- it just felt dated. Like the wallpaper we didn't bother to remove when we moved into the house. It's looking very tacky. The walls are looking tired too. The sunroom isn't looking sunny, it's become overrun with toys.
Yeah mouse has a case of house envy.
Daddy said, "Why don't you journal today?" Not in the you must do it way, just as maybe a suggestion. So, mouse went into his study, lifted the shade and looked around. Stared at the laptop, and noticed a cobweb. In the corner, there was also some dust in the corner.
Who can write with such distractions? Such filth?
So she cleaned the study. Then a very short time later sat again and stared...
Was it lunch time yet?
Snack time?
Did Daddy call her?
Maybe a load of clothes were sitting in the dryer? Or worse the washer?
Nope, both were empty.
Oh, maybe some wash needed to be done?
No, she should sit and write something...sexy and fun.
Or maybe write about how she completely came undone recently during a maintenance spanking.
It wasn't such a thing, mouse probably just needed a good cry anyway. So when he lifted her skirt, her nose began to sting, before he can really begin, mouse was already in tears. He didn't stop but continued, until her tears began to slow. When he stopped he held her for a while and suggested that she take a shower. He cooked breakfast, while mouse got dressed and fixed her hair.
We didn't talk about it, and even now mouse can't explain what happened.
Maybe this is why she hasn't been able to blog?
