"I'm tired and have no motivation to keep going..."
"I can't do all of this and want to give up..."
"There is too much on my plate..."
The Ass Master is home.
"Watch your mouth, Young Lady."
I'm back in school.
(Brain on overload, lack of sleep, many miles on the road)
Eric's company is down an employee.
(Filling in, doing two jobs, no down time)
Work is work is work is work.
I bought five implements a few weeks ago.
We enjoyed opening them together,
but Eric laid down the law,
"No more toys until we use everything in the chest."
One of the implements wasn't in the box.
It came yesterday, amidst my cries of being completely overwhelmed.
I ran home for lunch.
The doctor was in; his tools lined up on the surgical table.
Pants down, OTK, a strong handed warm up.
I'm on my knees, bottom stinging.
Like a surgeon requesting his instrument, "Scalpel," Eric calls for his implement and I hand it over before getting back in position.
Smack, smack, smack - five times.
I return the paddle, right cheek on fire.
Swish, swish, swish - five times.
I return the switch, back of legs on fire.
Snap, snap, snap - five times. Eric spreads my cheeks and presses the rod against the starfish. My body opens slightly as he pushes a bit harder. His cock grows into my rib cage and he pulls away.
I return the rod, the center of my backside on fire.
Slap, slap, slap - five times. His fingers enter my wet spot. His cock grows beyond my ribs and touches my breast.
"I want you," I say and my ass doesn't matter anymore.
He's up. I'm on my knees, over the chair. He takes the rope and swats at my hips and butt and thighs. It's just a rope; that burns and stings and bites and entices.
"One day," he threatens, "you're going to find yourself strapped to St. Andrew's Cross at the Citadel in San Francisco."
This is a huge fantasy of mine; a trip to San Francisco, the Citadel, St. Andrew's Cross. The spanking has cleared my head but now my body is desperately craving him.
I'm on my feet and facing the corner.
"Nipples on the wall," he commands.
It is cold to the touch.
My bottom is on fire.
He looks at my ass and gasps, "Beautiful."
I get no cock.
On my knees,
on the tile floor,
I am allowed to watch him masturbate.
I cannot touch.
I cannot taste.
I cannot partake.
"You don't get this unless you behave."
The red sharpie comes out when he's done.
The heart is still there.
He adds some stars.
Back to work. Back to class. Back to traveling.
"Next week, we will do this again," is his promise.
We have a whole chest of toys to get through.
The implements have all been tested.
I will behave.
we will play,
with the glass.