Thoughts from His kitten

Master continues my torment today...  Even after I tell him how frustrated and engrossed in the sexual I have been for days now, he gives me even more to think about and focus on.

Imagine with me:  He wants me to bring along the whole arsenal...  restraints, rope, collar, cuffs, clothespins, gags.  He wants me veritably immobile and able to withstand the full body flogging he keeps talking about.  He wants me begging, kneeling, crawling, crying...  He wants me to feel Owned.

It's scary, in truth, very scary...

 Today is definitely one of those days...  a day that I crave, a day that I would beg for the roughest touch just to be able to get fucked, a day that everything is sexual...  

So I get to go to my nephew's birthday party and work today... wonderful.

 Having a "Secretary" craving kind of day...

Not wanting to dwell on thoughts I've been having lately has led me to dwell on more fun thoughts.  

So I just remember the flash of scene concerning their honeymoon in the movie.  Her tied to the tree, skirts up around her hips, being forcibly rubbed against the bark as she's fucked.  

It reminds me of one of the more fun dates I had years ago.  It was summer and twilight.  Driving and talking, the topic naturally turned to my usual frame of conversation, peppered with innuendoes.  He took me to a local park with hiking trails.  Plunging deeper into the woods, we avoided any light or populated area.  My eyes didn't adjust to the darkness very quickly, leading me to surprise when he pushed my body into a tree trunk.  Having fallen, the tree made a bit of a bridge between two others, staying at a height that hit at about my knees.  Bent over the thick trunk, I felt unbalanced and vulnerable.

It's a memory I like for the feelings it gives me, namely that vulnerability I love.  It makes me eager for warmer weather so that Master and I can go camping...  *wicked grin*

My poor Master...

While he is incapacitated for a few days, which is the worst that could have happened recently, it might be good that I haven't had the freedom to talk to him.  All my confusion and such has come to a peak today, effectively explaining why I have been a tearful, emotional wreck.  Now it all makes sense.

Unfortunately, at the same time, I have realized that emotions I don't normally acknowledge tend to come to the forefront during this time and it's very difficult to address them when one is a weepy, bitter, hormone-ridden mess.  So, I am completely absorbed in my own selfish pain while trying to be empathetic to Master's difficulty and put up with my everyday life.

I'm just tired at this point.

Master,

Once again you show me why I love you...

Thank you for being so understanding and thank you for indulging your kitten in her little school-girl-like crush.

*giggles*

A dream I had last night led me here:

I walked into the darkened warehouse, my eyes automatically focusing on the lit pedestal in the center of the room.  I moved to step up onto it when his voice came to me.  "Clothes off, slut."

I quickly removed my shirt and pants, leaving the black corset and panties I had worn for him.

"Pretty little cunt, but those too."

I removed the lingerie and stepped onto the platform in only my heels.  Suddenly he was behind me, his breath on my ear as he spoke.  "Hands up, girl."  

I stepped between the posts, letting him close the cuffs around my wrists, effectively keeping me open to him.  I felt a pipe at the center of my back, giving me support across the back of the posts, but also serving to arch my back with my position.  Two more pipes were put in place in front of me, one above my tits, one below.  They were attached to the one at my back somehow, forcing my body into a deeper arch as the two pipes pressed my tits, forcing blood to flow tot he area.  Clamps were fit on my nipples just before my legs were kicked apart.  The clip in my hair was taken out, letting my hair down and free around my cheeks.

"Now, slut, you haven't been very good lately, have you?"  I could hear him pacing out of my vision.

"No, Master", I replied with a slightly devious smile.

The sharp snap across my ass made me squeak in surprise.  Sharper than the flogger and colder than a hand, I felt the skin raise almost immediately.

"And you've been craving punishment, isn't that right, cunt?"

I stammered slightly.  "Not n-n-necess-"  Another snap made me cry out, the sounds mingling and echoing through the empty building.  

"We'll see if you crave punishment again after this, my slave."

The snap comes harder, faster now.  I focused enough for a moment to realize it felt like a cane, perhaps slightly flexible, before my mind left me with the pain.  After what I would guess to be about thirty strokes, the cane was thrown down and he appeared in front of me.  The tears dripped to the floor.  I turned my face, seeing the flogger in his hand.  The clamps were given a hard yank, ripping them from my nipples, before the leather strands wrapped across my tits.  Ten lashes across my tits was enough to get me begging, but I received ten more.  The tension of my muscles when I heard the flogger also hit the floor caused uncomfortable cramps and spasms in my arms and torso.  The implements binding me to the posts were thrown to the side and my hands were bound in front of me.  The rope was passed under a stand, approximately waist height, and I watched as he reeled in the rope, pulling me closer and closer to the table.  Finally I was bent over the table, the rope tied off so that I could move nowhere but over the top of the table.  "You sexy little slut", I heard him growl just before pushing his cock hard into my ass.  I screamed once again, the tears renewing even as I pressed up hard to receive him deeper inside me, harder, faster, stammering my "please, please, please" almost immediately, begging him to let me cum.

 There's something I want to make sure is entirely clear...

Master, no matter how upset I feel, I will always want to talk to you.  I'm sitting here now, praying and wishing to hear from you...

I'm not sure if it's pathetic or just to be expected that, despite my feelings, listening to a message I got from you two weeks ago that I saved to my phone makes me want to cry and makes me feel better all at the same time...

 Yes, I know I had posted that you wouldn't be hearing from me for a while, but these things have to be said...

Master, I am so hurt right now.  And not by the things I endured yesterday.  By you.

I understand the decision you made last night, I do, but I don't think you realize how much I needed you, how much I needed to lean on your strength for a matter of minutes, just to assure myself that someone out there cares enough for me to be strong while I am weak.  I know you are aware of the gravity of the things I am going through and I know you gave as much of your brand of help that you could.  But do your know your slave so little?  For me to beg you for contact, for me to have to plead for just a few minutes to be held by you, don't you understand that I only do that in times that I am truly in need and can't handle it on my own?  

I know it was late.  I know the weather was bad.  But for me to believe you couldn't have sacrificed fifteen minutes of sleep to care for the emotional well-being of someone you claim to love, cherish, and want kneeling at your side...  That's a stretch.  I can only compare it with my own feelings, really, but had the situations been reversed, I would have moved heaven and earth to be able to be with you.  And haven't I shown that in the past?  In August when you moved, I was willing to help you in any way possible to get you back on your feet.  With the excitement you felt with the new charter and the new venture you've taken on, didn't I support you, celebrate you, wish you all the best, despite the fact that I have no connection to that venture and if anything it has the power to take you away from me more?  When you were in your accident, with everything you've had to deal with since, haven't I been supportive and understanding?  

You gave me a lecture when all I needed from you was a hug.

It isn't like I asked for something unreasonable...

When you call tonight, don't expect your willing, loving slave.  I don't know how long I can deal with besotted, devoted and seemingly unrequited...  

The real burn?  If you called me right now and wanted me at your side, I would be there... despite the way I feel right now.  

I have thought of a story I pointed out in the books I lent you over Christmas..  the birthday one, if you'll remember that.  The story isn't about the birthday, it's about feeling appreciated and loved.  Right now I don't feel that from you and while I know I'm weak and your very fist apology will likely smooth things over for a while, know that this isn't going away.  You've hurt me and I don't know what it's going to take to fix it.

Oh yeah, I've got your Valentine's Day gift... and yes, I'm saying that to make you feel guilty.  Forgive me a few hurtful words for a slight sense of justice.

 I lost... one of the most important things in my life and I lost her...

Don't expect to hear from me for a while.  This is going to take a lot out of me...

 It has been too long, really.  Master will be disappointed that I haven't kept up my journal.

I think often about the few times I've seen him recently... and when I say often, I mean OFTEN.  *little smile*  I find myself distracted at work at the recollection of his pleasure at seeing the way I dressed for him and the toys I had bought.  I remember the soft grip of the new cuffs and the squeeze of the clamps, though gentle compared to the clothespins...

I miss you, Master, and can't wait to see you again.

 My mind has been whirling with the things I'll be able to afford with my new career...  perhaps my marque?  *little smile*

The thought is starting to intrigue me more and more, Master.  I can't wait to wear your mark.

 My mind is working overtime right now with possibilities...

Master, I hope I can talk to you soon.  I may have an idea for this weekend.

Kitten hurts...

I miss you, Master, but for wholly selfish reasons right now. 

 Hell week begins...

And it is going to be one of those months that while my body doesn't even want to be touched, my mind works overtime on the twisted and perverse.  Already my brain is bringing me to the point of wanting the slap across the face, that hard gag and choke on Master's cock, the strike of his flogger across my back, that deliciously painful stretching of my ass that brought tears to my eyes two weeks ago...

*sigh*

Why is it the brain and the body are never really in harmony?

The knock on the door woke me from where I lay on the couch, a movie playing unwatched on the TV.  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and trying to calm my hair, I unlock the deadbolt and open the door.  Framed by the dark night, his familiar figure stood.  Slowly the smile curled my lips before I launched myself into his arms.  My lips feathered kisses all over his jaw, lips, and neck.

Backing me into the living room, he closed the door behind me.  "So, where is everyone?" he asked.

"At the bar", I replied.  "I didn't feel like getting drunk tonight."

He nodded in understanding even as a slightly wicked smile crossed his face.  His fingers ran through my hair, closing his fist in the strands and pulling me down to my knees.  "Then I think there's something you need."  My jeans and top were pulled off quickly, and he pushed me to my hands and knees.   "I don't think I'll make you count them this time, slut, because by the end you won't be able to think."  At that, his hand came hard down on to my ass.  I squealed, not expecting it so quickly.  Each spank was harder than any he had given me to that point.  His voice was quiet as he spoke, calmly, about how many I was to receive for this birthday tradition.

He had been right, by the final five I was sobbing and trying to thrash away from the contact.  My ass throbbed like it was burned.  He pressed me to the floor to hold me still more effectively.  I cried hard with the last strike he gave.  I felt him stand and move to the couch I had been sleeping on.  He sat, breathing hard.  "Come here, kitten."

Torturously slow, I crawled nearer.  He patted his lap and with a strangled sob I jumped into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, sobbing onto his shoulder.  He petted me lightly, his hands rubbing up and down my back soothingly.  "That's a good girl", he whispered.  

When my tears had subsided, he put his hands on my cheeks and pulled me away from him slightly to look in my eyes.  "Happy birthday, kitten.  I love you."  A tender kiss landed on my cheekbone.

 A quarter of a century...

Is it just me or do birthday spankings change definition at this age?  *grin*  Twenty-five good ones with a paddle, perhaps?

I'm trying not to make a big deal of it, but I know my mind has thought of that "best-case-scenario" possibility.  I know that it would be seeing my Master show up at my door, having arranged for one of the roommates to take care of the little one, and taking me off somewhere private where I could be His...  even if it was only so I could receive that slightly dreaded birthday spanking.  New Years Eve only strengthened my craving for him.

 There's something about white sheets...

I was making my bed today, changing the sheets with literally brand new sheets, straight out of the package (thanks, Grandma).  The smell, the feel of the creases as I smoothed them out, the images that come to me...

The curve of a woman's legs as she lays, tangled in the sheet, her toenails red and peeking from the edge.

The lean, tanned length of a man's arm dangling over the side of the bed.

Dark curls splashed against the stark white pillow case.

Knees drawn up to balance a book, tenting under the sheet.

The motion of a couple under the sheets, the writhing movement making their activity obvious.

Black restraints a visual shock against the snow white.

A smear of red lipstick on a pillow.

The contrast of a reddened ass, soothed slightly by the cool sheets.

Somehow these images just kept me inconvenienced, I couldn't think of anything else until I was finally able to write them down... and now I am off to lie in those sheets.  I think, Master, that to christen the sheets I might do something I'll likely be punished for.  I want to wear the black lace panties you love so much to bed tonight as I bind my wrists.  Picture your kitten that way:  Curls tangled over my cheek, my wrists bound togehter with my hands no lower than at my cheek, my naked breasts pressed into the sheet, my hips moving as my dreams take me to your feet again, the lace curving over my ass...  

I love you, Master, and I was so happy to talk to you tonight.

 *laughs*  It's always the days I complain about our arrangement that he calls and reminds me of how much I love him.

He spoke tonight about an opportunity he could have in the next six months or so... to leave the country for a year.  Potentially, that would take him for the year, but then he would be out of the state for up to five years more!  *sigh*  Of course I don't like that, but I am so excited that he should have that possibility!  I can't wait to hear how everything works out later this spring.

Our conversation turned to the people I met on New Years.  I was relieved to hear they liked me.  One barrier down, I suppose, seeing as these people are some of his closest friends.  At least I've passed approval there.  I really enjoyed them as well, actually.  His thoughts turned, though.  He made me think of them in a Dominant fashion and questioned what I would have done if he had given me to them that night.  I hardly knew what to say, I was so shocked at the thought!  I'm still not used to that, I suppose.  One reason my last relationship ended was because I brought up the thought of being used by a group of friends and he was disgusted and offended by the thought.  My ex couldn't even appreciate the weight of what I was willing to do for him, or appreciate the beauty of seeing a woman fucked repeatedly, or even imagine the sight of two women...  That reaction told me it was the wrong relationship for me.  I am so not used to someone who will bring those things up, even if they don't expect them to happen.  

But, Master, I am definitely thinking of it now...

***
I licked my lips contentedly, sliding from underneath the blankets.  My cheek slid back up your body and I tucked my nose under your chin, listening to your breath calm.  A slight noise of appreciation from my throat accompanied with the restless curl of my hips against your leg brought a smile to your lips as a thought crossed your mind.

"Kitten?" you said quietly.

"Yes, Master?"  My reply came partnered with a langorous stretch.

"I want you to do something for me."  You paused, your smirk invisible to me in the dark.  "Go downstairs.  Knock on the bedroom door and kneel."

My intaken breath almost seemed to echo the stunned silence of the room.  "W-what?"  My whispered tone conveyed all my insecurity.

"You heard me, slave.  Now go.  Just as you are, no more clothing than what is on your body right now."  

I sat up sharply, holding the blanket to the front of my black satin and lace bra.  "Master, you don't mean it."

You retained your position, your arms sliding up to cross behind your head.  "I do mean it, slut, so do it before I get angry."

A reflection through the window revealed my expression, stricken with lower lip quivering.  "Master, please.  Please don't make me go down there.  I can't do it, Master, please."

A slow inhale, your chest rising steadily was my only hint.  A moment later, you threw the covers back, rocketed to your feet and grasped my hair.  My squeak was one of shock as your grip pulled my head to look up at you.  "You may regret that, slut."  At that, you began walking purposefully toward the stairs.

With only slight regard for my position on my hands and knees, you pulled me down the stairway.  Striding to the center of the great room, you released me and continued on.  I reached a hand out to follow, but you stopped me with one word.  "Kneel."

I turned my back to the bedroom door and knelt in position:  back straight, wrists crossed behind me, legs spread, and eyes to the floor.  I heard the knock, my breath catching in irregular, trembling pants.  I heard quiet words exchanged with two others.  I heard a feminine laugh and I closed my eyes.

I left them closed as I heard their footsteps approach.  I felt a hand on my head, petting my mussed hair.  The hand was small, dainty, and as she slid her hand down my face to grip my chin, I also felt its strength.

"She is lovely, V", she said, turning my face side to side as if to inspect.  "How well does she do?"

A sudden sense of weight beside me nearly jerked my face from her hand as I reflexively turned as if to look.  Her hand circled my throat quickly, keeping me in position.  Another male voice came next, from Master's friend, B.

"She looks like china, V, how worthwhile can she be?  She must shatter every time you try her out."

My shoulders slumped a little at their words.  If I couldn't pass inspection with his friends, I clearly would be of no use to him.

"Open your eyes, girl."  It was her again, R, the woman with her hand at my throat.

I blinked slowly, allowing the light to filter back in.  I looked directly into her eyes for a moment, seeing her skeptical gaze.  My own expression hardened until it became a haughty declaration of ownership, you to me and me to you, before I once again lowered my lashes to stare at the carpet.  My back and shoulders straightened, my neck elongating gracefully.

Her laugh surprised me.  She rose, joining you on the couch.  "I see you already have her placing her claim, V.  Not good to have such a willful little pet."

"So I have noticed", you reply, a bit of iciness creeping into your tone.  I wince at the implication.  "I hope, R, that you and B might help me correct that tonight."

Still with my gaze pointed at the floor, my eyes widened.  I hadn't expected, only to be shown, not shared.  A hand at the back of my neck, I assume B's, pushes my forehead to the floor.

"Gladly, my friend", he agrees.  A change of seating occurs, but with my nose to the carpet, I can't tell by whom.  My curiousity is answered quickly with R's hand in my hair once again, pulling me to look up at where you and B sit, lords of the castle relaxed in their positions.  

"Apologize to your Master, girl."

My eyes burn, threatening to fill with tears as she makes me realize what I've done.  My disobedience, my refusal, had earned punishment.  My throat closes, allowing only my whimpers to escape.  

I see for a moment the joy leave your eyes.  Instead, reflected back at me, I see a disappointment, replaced by a questioning look.  "R, I'm giving her to you.  Punish as you see fit."

I begin to tremble and I look up at where she stands next to me, watching the calculating elation fill her face.  My eyes dart back to where you two men sit, your conversation turning toward each other and leaving me to her mercy.

A sharp slap on my cheek brings my head back down, dipped lower to shield from more.  

"Attention on me, please, dear toy."  Her voice was sweet, contradicting her gripping two handfuls of hair.  She pulled my head forward, into her pussy.  "Your Master interrupted something and I've decided you can finish it."

My memory engaged and I immediately began to lick, teasing circles over her skin.  My tongue finding it's way inside the slit of her pussy, I continued to tease and build her arousal until I heard her first true moan.  I then pressed my tongue flat against her clit, letting it rub roughly, getting it harder yet.  She began to move my head as she wanted, putting pressure where she wanted it and pulling me away where she didn't.  The thought crossed my mind that B must have been very close to fulfilling her as she broke quickly over me, covering my lips and chin with her thickly sweet juices.

***

All right, now it's been another hour and I have to be getting some sleep.  Morning is a cruel Mistress, after all...

I miss you, Master, I love you, and shame on you for putting these thoughts in my head.  I will never NEVER be able to look at B and R the same way again.  Thanks...

 I find myself slightly envious of the slave journals I read...  I hear so much about the girls who are able to serve their Masters daily and it sounds so nice.  I just can't help feeling jealous.

Damn these girly emotions of mine...

 I feel yucky...

I just don't know what it is I ate that made it so bad...

I know everyone has the same feeling to some degree: when I feel sick, I just want to be cuddled, coddled and told it's okay.  *sigh*  Too bad there's no one to do that for me...