Mirror, Sword and Shield

Pt I

The emotional strain of last week is long gone; replaced by a sense of happiness and gentle quietude. There were a few factors that I didn’t account for at the time: jet-lag, fatigue from a convoluted journey home, anxiety about returning to school, and the general drop that accompanies the end of a holiday, or a big move, or any large change of pace. I was distressed because I hadn’t been touched intimately in so long, I was fighting so many strong but varied emotions and my thoughts were in-between different mindsets. I was tired and instead of realizing this, I started inventing rationales for problems that didn’t actually exist.

This weekend felt completely different; relaxing, exciting and just so happy.

It started, however, with me getting overwhelmed by school. I got to school late on Tuesday night, after a couple of good friends helped me move up. After two months of travelling and constantly having to change settings, put on my ultra-extroverted personality and befriend new people, I was desperately seeking familiarity and some semblance of routine. It felt very good to have old friends accompany me back to school, but when they went back home and I was left in a house of strangers and circumstances where I was surrounded by hoardes of new people, I had a small freak out and decided I needed to leave. I know I sound crazy but I swear I’m not antisocial, I don’t suffer from social anxiety, I’m not scared of people …I’ve just had enough of introductions, and small talk, and expending energy to get know new people, so I skipped school and ran away to Master.

Running away is no easy feat when the journey to my appointed safe haven was three hours away, but I finally made it to Master’s house late on Thursday night. As per his mandate, I got into his place, stripped away my clothes and donned my wrist and ankle cuffs (a new acquisition), before he pulled me into bed and I fell asleep, nestled into his body and relishing in the comfort of it all.

On Friday morning, I woke up with him and we showered together in our usual fashion—kneeling before him in the tub and lathering him. When he was clean, he shampooed my hair while I was kneeling and rubbed suds over my breasts, and chest, and back before instructing me to rise and bend over so that he could examine, and wash my thighs and bum and cunt. After we were done, we got out of the tub and he brushed his teeth. As per our usual protocol, as I knelt behind him, my cheek nestled into his bum as I ran my hands along his thighs and between his legs as a gentle massage.

After he had dressed and was ready to leave for work, he held me, and kissed me and told me he didn’t want to go, but eventually freed me from the position he was holding me in--bent over at the table. Before he left, he gave me permission to use the furniture, study, eat and leave the house freely (although I was not permitted to remove my collar, wrist or ankle cuffs). Being in a quiet, reflective mood, I decided I really didn’t want to leave the house so I just stayed in, studied and cleaned up for him.

Master estimated he’d be home around 5:00pm, so at ten to five, I put on the schoolgirl outfit he had requested I wear, and knelt by the door. I think the worst part about being a slave is waiting—I get very impatient and agitated—and I know I have to work on it. I was getting quite annoyed when 5:00pm rolled around, then 5:20, then 5:40. I need practice kneeling; it’s hard for me to stay put for so long and it definitely contributes to my agitation. I shifted and squirmed a lot, which I’m sure Master would have not approved of…but finally, at ten to six, Master turned the door handle and entered. And when he smiled, most of the resentment just slipped away.

Master was understandably tired from work, so he went to lie down and made me kneel at the bedside as he closed his eyes. I understood his fatigue and wanted him to rest, but like a silly little dog, eagerly anticipating its Master’s return, I longed for some sort of small acknowledgement that I had been waiting on my knees for an hour, any tiny gesture of approval. I was a little crushed when he just pointed to the side of the bed, and snapped once for me to kneel again. I didn’t realize that I was externalizing my thoughts in my disposition but Master is very perceptive, and when he opened his eyes, he looked at me, gently touched my face and asked me what was wrong.

I didn’t really want to explain since I knew I was being a baby so I just told him I was okay. He hugged and kissed me and comforted me anyway…and I suddenly felt really bad, because a good slave would have made an effort to let her Master rest instead of worrying him with her unexplained tears. But I’m not a good slave yet. When I get really close to people, I go exceptionally out of my way to do things for them to make them happy, and I know my feelings for Master are deepening very quickly…but unfortuantely, there are still many times when I am selfish. I’m cannot express how thankful I am for having such a caring Master…for finding someone who is so concerned for my welfare and perceptive enough to understand when I am feeling a bit down. Strangely enough, however, his concern about my selfish needs, makes me just like him more and makes me want to do better to actually serve him.

Anyway, after he had petted me, he told me to give him a massage so I gleefully pulled out the massage oils I had brought for him--being allowed to touch him and actually do something useful is infinitely better than kneeling and waiting--and worked my way down his body, deep into his muscles, as he rested. After a long massage and a bit of a nap, he got me to practice my blowjob skills. I tried for a long time to make him come, trying my hardest to get his penis far into my throat. The brushing exercise he had given me in the summer has helped me improve my gag reflex substantially…but not completely. I still have difficulty with his cock as it is is significantly larger than the width of the three fingers I stick down my throat to practice. I also have great, great difficulty when I am trying to go very quickly because the rapidity violently triggers my gag reflex and makes me sputter. It’s pretty awful since every time I gag it just increases my salivary output and my eyes and nose get runny (I know, I know…extremely unattractive) and I end up sniffling and slobbering all over Master.

It's so awful that I can’t pleasure him well. I’m concerned about it and am blindly hoping that practice does make perfect because I don't have any other tangible solutions. I really want to get better since the very idea of a slave who cannot gratify her Master orally is ridiculous to me; I should be able to gratify him orally and pleasure him. I don’t know what I can do to practice and make it better for him; all the research and discussions I’ve had on this subject has not seemed to help me at all. The academic in me hates not being able to transfer theory to reality, the perfectionist in me hates being bad at something, but most strongly of all, the submissive in me absolutely hates the idea of not being able to please such a kind and wonderful Master, who takes such good care of me.

When Master saw me struggling so much and I couldn’t make him come, he pulled me up and told me that was enough practice for now. He unbuttoned a couple of the buttons of the dress shirt, enough to expose my bra and pull my breasts out of the cups of my bra. Then after some playful making out, he led me over to the table and blindfolded me. I could see blurry movement out of one corner of the blindfold and I saw a streak of white moving towards my breasts, I knew they were the clothespegs and I jerked away instinctively. He grabbed and yanked me back and gave me an unimpressed lecture about how I should know better than to pull away. I knew I shouldn’t have, but it’s been such an awfully long time since I’ve had those clamps on my nipples and I was absolutely terrified.

There was no escaping though and he pinned them onto me, and led me to a corner of the house, where he attached my cuffs overhead. What followed was pretty hot: if I had seen it in a movie, it would have easily become my favourite sex scenes (despite the fact that there was technically no sex).

After suspending my wrist overhead, Master got down, and hoisted me up so that my legs were on his shoulders and my weight was being supported partially by his strength and partially by the restraints above dragging my arms upwards. I was wearing my schoolgirl kilt, and I could feel his head rising underneath the fabric, the gentle brush of his nose against my mons, and then the warmth of his breath tickling my nether lips. He then proceeded to lay his mouth over my cunt, and flick his tongue over my clit until I shuddered with pleasure. He sucked my clit gently and ran his mouth tenderly at the lips, eventually pushing his tongue into me; sucking and flickering in a deliberate steady rhythm. The sensations just exploded into my stomach and when Master lifted his head up from under the fabric and set me back down, he told me that was a reward for being such a good girl and cleaning his house so well.

He left for a moment and when he returned, I felt the rim of a cool glass at my lips, and water trickling over my tongue. When the water dribbled over my lips and Master could tell I'd had enough, he moved the glass away. Then, in a moment, I felt the splash of the water against my face and chest, and squealed. After I heard the clink of the glass being set down, I in the darkness of my blindoflded world, sensed Master hovering over me. In a moment, I felt a strong grip around my throat, his fingers digging into my neck like a warm collar, as his palm pushed me hard into the wall. He began to kiss me so fiercely and deeply that I felt like he was stealing my breath. Between the kisses he clamped and unclamped the pegs from my nipples, and his tongue passed into my mouth to silence my moans. He ran his hands under the kilt, grabbing my ass in rough pulses before he finally, with one smooth movement, yanked me up so that my legs were around his hips. He thrust me against the wall, looped his hand around my hair and pulled my head back as he kissed my mouth and throat. He ran his hands down my buttoned white shirt—heavy touches that ended with both hands under the fabric, grasping the material in a tight fist. The sound of tearing fabric and buttons clinking against the floor coincided with a aggressive kiss that pushed my head and back further into the wall. He ripped my bra and his hands moved down the newly exposed flesh as my now ragged dress shirt dangled from my suspended arms.

Master dropped me purposely, and I stumbled as I landed precariously on my feet. One of his hands grabbed my cheeks and pinched them together, the other one moved again towards my hair and pulled me back. He pursed my lips with his fingers and pulled my head back and kissed and pushed me around in the corner, pulling me with hard, jerking touches mixed with a gentle movement of his fingers across my face and the comfort of his lips against mine. “I love owning this body,” he said as he forced me against the wall and made me struggle for balance, “that I can do whatever I want,” and he removed a clamp, and then squeezed it tightly against me again, “knowing that you’ll still come back for more.”

He swung me around so that the rope ahead tightened and I had to tiptoe a bit. He pulled the skirt over my bum, and began to swat ferociously. No warm up, just quick, rapidfire smacks along the sides of my bum, the outside of my thighs, between my legs—so fast and quick that I could barely register what was going on where it not for the burning enveloping the lower half of my body.

When he was done, Master turned me around again, removed the nipple clamps and blindfold before he began to play with my clit and finger me. He then brought the vibrating dildo and put it into me, attaching it to my legs. He told me to call him when I was ready to come and left me. I have issues with orgasms. I can definitely have an orgasm, but it requires being very relaxed because I tend to fight them since I think they are quite painful (not the same kind of pure pain like being hit but a weird mix of pleasure and pain sensation that scares me because it’s so intense). I also can’t orgasm from penetration alone; I can with just clitoral stimulation but I have to be really relaxed, and it’s usually best with a mix of clitoral stimulation and penetration.

So, I’m still suspended by the wrists, with this vibrating dildo inside of me at the highest setting possible. It feels good because it’s vibrating and rotating, but it’s also making me very sore and I know there is no way on earth I’m going to come. So I stand for maybe ten to fifteen minutes. Master thinks I’m crazy because there have been times where he’s left the dildo in for longer than an hour and I just can’t climax. I'll squirm and clench and get really close sometimes, but it just won't happen because I'm terrified of orgasms. So eventually, Master takes the dildo out, tells me that I'm impossible, but didn't look too upset. He clipped my wrist cuffs together behind me and then snapped once.

I knelt in the corner as he closed in over me and put his cock in my mouth. He grabbed my head and he pushed in slowly, but deeply, so that his cock was really going far into my throat. In moments where I couldn't breathe and began to sputter, he gently told me to relax--although his grip on my head was unrelenting. He slowly began to thrust into my throat, until my gag reflex really couldn't take it any more. I did feel very bad that I couldn't make him come, but he commanded me to keep my mouth open as he jerked himself off and he finished himself off as him cum exploded into my mouth and I tasted him for the first time that day.

I was very dissapointed in myself for not being able to make him come. I think he may have been dissapointed in me too, but he is so patient that I can hardly believe it. He took me by the hand afterwards and told me to clean up, and that afterwards, we would go for a swim.