Sweet Sorrow

I spent yesterday with Master and we had great fun-- it was the type of day that would have me smiling for a week as I eagerly waited for the upcoming weekend to roll around. Unfortunately, there will be no "next weekend" to anticipate, as Master and I will be apart for the next two months. So, at the end of the day, smiles were replaced by tears as we said our goodbyes.

The day started as usual for us. I couldn't sleep over, so Master told me to get to his place early. When I got there at quarter to nine, he was still in bed, but he allowed me to climb in so that he could hold me. We started his day with the usual morning blow-job, then he had me kneel outside the bathroom as he got ready.

We spent the morning running errands. The first one involved cleaning out his car--which may not sound all that exciting--but was surprisingly amusing. I'm beginning to realize how good company can make humdrum activities bearable, if not fun. It's also surprising how much public humiliation Master can throw into these little tasks. When I was bent over, picking up loose change from the floor of the car, Master would lift my skirt--and I'm not allowed to wear underwear--and would smack me. It's also very surprising how people, standing a mere few metres away in the parking lot, did not even notice. Master also couldn't resist trying out the high-power suction of the car vacuum on my breasts, though he was dissapointmented that it failed to leave a bruise.

After errands, we went back to his place and lay in bed and watched some tv. When it came time for lunch, we went out to eat. He had a late breakfast, and ordered me some toast and water--a prisoner's meal he joked--but what a lucky prisoner I am! He tried to put some ice into my cunt when no one was looking, but since it seemed a little conspicuous for him to be hovering around me, he made me do it. We had a pleasant lunch, talking, analyzing our respective psychopathy as the ice melted in me and turned my white dress transparent.

After lunch, we walked around and took a turn into a wooded area. Master elected not to take the path, so he held my hand as I struggled to climb the steep, rock-encrusted hill in my sandals and dress. At a steep point, he ordered me to hug a thin tree jutting out of the slope at an angle, lifted my skirt over my hips and spanked me so that my pelvis banged into the tree trunk with every blow. When he was done, he pushed me down onto the twig-strewn soil and straddled me. I knew he wanted to fuck me in the forest, but after a moment of hesitation--prompted by feeling sorry for my white dress--he pulled me up and brushed me off and continued our walk. He decided that we needed flat terrain and better equipment for proper outdoor bondage adventures. I'm sure I'll have some sort of intimate encounter with nature to look forward to sometime when I return. The heat amplified throughout the afternoon, and on the way home, Master got us some ice-cream as a treat. Master is so very good to me.

I think one of the hardest parts about relationships is not knowing if the other person is moving at the same pace as I am; wondering where we are respectively placed along the gradient of affection. Years of designing experiments has made me crave quantitative values but I'm slowly learning to accept that uncertainty is a natural part of life, of being a sub, of trusting another person. I do feel that he cares for me though, and it makes me feel so happy and so lucky.

Anyway, after our pseudo-hike and ice cream, we went back home and he fucked me on the bed. A gift. Master has incredible stamina, so we changed positions a few times: on my back with my hands pinned above my head, from behind, me on top as Master slapped my face and breasts. I like the feel of Master in me, of him having his way with me. I don't think I can orgasm just from penetration alone, though I can with clitoral stimulation. As perplexed as I am by my body's selective approach to orgasms, I don't mind if sex feels unfinished for me. Sex is not about me anyway, it is about Master's pleasure. As long as he is satisfied, I am happy.

Anyway, after finishing with me, Master decided we should go swimming. I didn't have a bathing suit, or even underwear, but I followed Master anyway...unsure about his intentions. The pool, unfortunately, was being used by a couple of other people, so I initially sat by the wall and watched Master as he dipped into the water. Master kept mouthing things to me as he surfaced. and at length, called me to the edge, repeated his jesting words, then tried to pull me in. At first, I resisted his tugging and shot him a very uncertain and dissaproving look. This made Master turn serious, very quickly. He tightened his grip on my arms, warned me that he was annoyed with my noncompliance and that if I didn't get in, I would pay for it. I think even without this speech, the transition of his curved lips to a taut, unyielding line, made me slide into the water. I sunk, realized I couldn't touch the bottom, and panicking, grasped onto him as the fabric of my dress ballooned up to the surface, leaving my cunt exposed underwater.

Now, I can't really swim well. Or at least that's how I described my swimming abilities in the days where I could at least "kind-of" swim. I've regressed. This time, I mostly flailed my arms and legs, trying not to get tangled in fabric of my skirt as I thrashed about. Master found my vulnerability amusing but held and supported me. We spent some time as he just stood in the deep end, with my legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms wrapped around his torso. We then splashed around and played in the water. He wrapped my skirt around my thighs, to hide my cunt from the other swimmers and dragged me around. He dunked me into the water, and lifted me into the air and threw me, so that I flew a few metres before splashing into the pool. He held me, and fondled me, and we kissed and frolicked and played. I had so much fun even without being able to swim. I probably had more fun because I couldn't swim, and I needed to trust in Master's support to play around. I'm sure we sickened and confused a few people with our public displays of affection, and the perplexing imagery of a girl in a long, flowery dress squealing and being pulled around in the water. However, it was really a great deal of fun.

Since we were being goofy, Master held me tightly at one point, slicked my hair back and out of my eyes, and kissed my brow. He told me that just because we could have fun, this did not mean that he also couldn't be serious and that I should never forget my place. I took this to heart. I would never mistake Master's kindness for weakness. I rejoice in the tenderness, but should not expect it or feel that it is owed to me. I am his, to do with as he pleases.

After our swim, Master took me back to his place. I hung my dress out on the balcony to dry and Master gave me a shirt to wear, when he noticed a used condom on the floor from earlier. He had told me to clean up, and I had looked around, rearranged the discarded pillows and the rumpled bedsheets, but I had clearly missed the crumpled latex at the side of the bed. He told me that when I am told to do something, I need to take my time and do a good job. Displeased with me, he clothespegged the inner lips of my vagina after I had thrown out the condom, but allowed me to stay in bed to massage his balls. The pegs may have been on my nether lips, but they, nevertheless, kept me silent and stoic and repentant. After getting him hard, he removed the peg from my lips and placed it onto my nipple. He told me he was going to fuck me again, and this time he expected me to clean up properly.

After he was done, he gave me a pair of pants and told me that we needed to go to the grocery store to fetch some things for dinner. I was in complete dishabille--braless and lost in his clothes; skin dried and eyes reddened from the chlorine; hair puffy and wild. Master told me that I looked ridiculous and teased me about how ugly I was. He was clearly joking, but I started tearing up. I know I'm attractive, and I'm generally self-assured, so it was absolutely ridiculous for me to be affected by blatantly exaggerated teasing. However, if you can follow my convoluted train of thought, I was just feeling sensitive because of the going away, and the thought of him maybe deciding that I wasn't worth the wait, and moving on etc. All ridiculous thoughts, considering the number of times he's reassured me about where I stand with him, but I can't help but get weepy at that thought of things changing over the next couple of months.

He held my hand as he drove to the grocery store, and left me in the car as he ran in to pick up a few things. Then, we went back home and he prepared food as I, at his command, knelt in the kitchen waiting for him, or lay prostrate on the ground, worshiping his feet. I may regret saying this at some point, but being around him makes me wish I were a bit more domestic. I have this strange urge to keep things neat and tidy for him, and wait on him, and even--strangely enough--overcome my disdain for the kitchen and learn how to cook for him. When the food was ready, Master sat down to eat, and as usual put a plate on the floor for me. I usually sit or kneel on the ground as he eats. Sometimes he feeds me, but this time he gave me permission to eat and drink freely.

After eating, we watched a little bit of TV. Master lay back in bed, and I knelt beside him with a bowl of strawberries. He picked the strawberries up, and I sprayed them with whipped cream, and he ate them or offered me one to take from my fingers with my mouth. Then, he covered his penis in whipped cream, and told me to lick it off.

The day was hot and humid, and because we had a lot of fun in the pool and it had cooled us down, Master decided we should go back...so I put on my newly-dried dress to reprise the adventure. This time, a few kids were roughhousing in the water, so Master was hesitant to pull me in, but I ended up in the pool anyway. There was less throwing me around to prevent wardrobe malfunctions and exposure, but we played around again and laughed and found more amusement in my inability to hold my breath underwater, which was especially challenged by Master continuously dunking my head in, until I was forced to admit to witchcraft.

We went back to his place again and were lying in bed as my dress dried for the second time. I was playing with Master's cock, and after he grew hard, he snapped his fingers four times, and I moved from his side to his penis to use my mouth. I sucked, and I sucked for quite sometime. He tried to shove his cock further down my throat. I was getting tired and frustrated that he wouldn't come, so I was relieved when he order me onto the floor and he clapped twice to order me onto my back (new commands: 1 clap=all four, 2 claps=on my back, with promises of more clapping commands and positions to come). He then proceeded to fuck me. Master has so much stamina, and he can really control himself, so it took a long time before he came.

As he was fucking me on the floor though, he told me of all the ways he would have me when I get back at the end of summer. He told me how he owned my mouth, and my cunt, and soon he would take my ass too. He told me I was his slut, his fucktoy, his plaything. But when he was done, he put in his face into my neck and his arms around me. He held me as the light began to fade and I started to cry because the I knew it was time to go home. When he pulled out and sat up, he brought me into his lap and held me as I wrapped my arms around him and buried my head in his chest.

Again, he reassured me that things are going to be okay for these upcoming months; that he'd be there when I return and that even though we will miss each other, we'll each be busy and that I should stop worrying about him loosing interest or moving on. I was still sniffling, but eventually he helped me up and brought me my dress as I tried to calm my tears.

I got dressed and he drove me home. We kissed in the driveway, as twilight's gray began to smother the sun. Master told me to go before I started crying again, so I did. I paused on the steps to my doorway, and though the untrimmed branches of the mulberry tree obscured his face as he drove away, I saw his hand--that strong, firm hand--waving to me. I have my collar, my owenership tag. He has strands of my long hair--I may be a hypoallergenic pet but I do shed a little--scattered in his apartment.

We'll be okay.