Monday, January 17, 2011

Pussy footing

The sound of the neighbours bloody Alsatian woke one this morning. Its deep barks were persistent, as always, and one lay there contemplating its imminent demise... it was a happy place. Then one noticed that He had turned off the air-con that He had insisted on the night before, and the room was shut up, warm and stuffy. Rolling over the clock confirmed what one suspected... it was too early to wake up and there was no chance of going back to sleep L

Like a mouse one slid out of bed. It might have been more like a cat... no mean feat when you tink and clank when you walk. Mind you one had a cat that was still a ferocious and successful predator, despite an assortment of collars with bells. It was an assortment because he developed this neat trick of backing onto a short branch and moving backwards until the collar was hooked. He would then duck his head and twist, and the collars (because they have a bit of elastic to stop them hanging themselves by accident), would give enough stretch that he would be free. Sighs one suspects that won’t work for one small slave

Anyway back to hunting... One morning while sipping coffee one spied him in action. He was stalking along a branch and he was a big cat... the size of a small dog. The bell was neatly nestled on his chest fur and he had it balanced between the muscles of his chest. It effectively deadened any sound the bell made without slowing him down. After that one gave up on the collars... again one suspects that won’t work for one small slave, but one did learn a valuable trick.

Sliding out of bed, collar held just so, one stumbled to the kettle; muzzy headed and cranky. It was going to be a two morning mouse kind of day. Might one just say that although the caffeine relieved some of the fatigue, it did nothing for the surly disposition. And being ordered to present ones arse to His morning shower so that He could use it, did nothing to improve it whatsoever.

Looking like a condemned person one reluctantly fronted up and slid in the shower. He picked up the soap and washed one gently... OK not necessarily concentrating on the bits one would have chosen, but... He slid his hands along the shoulders and neck, kneading with strong fingers and making one groan involuntarily with pleasure. The hands slid down further, squeezing and stroking with sudsy fingers, until He reached around and slid them between ones thighs.

At that moment He thrust the fingers of his other hand into an arse, which due to the recent removal of a butt plug, had no defence against such an invasion. A fact one protested citing unfairness... sighs not the best opening gambit. Squirming, one lifted up on tippy toes as He drove in, all the while rubbing the clit with insistent fingers. The muscles of the legs got rigid as the body braced for the inevitable orgasm and as one fell into it, His voice crooned in one’s ear that should make it nice and tight for me.

With one braced against the shower wall He forced his way in. Holding one firmly in place, He drove in and out, picking up speed as He became more aroused. Unloading himself with a satisfied groan, He disengaged, cleaned off the soap suds and left one feeling alone and violated. With stinging parts from all the soap L

Later, when one was clean, re-plugged, and sitting in front of a fan drying off (in this climate it is the only way you can get completely dry after a shower) a small light bulb went off. Turning around one said, you only did that to see if it would improve one’s mood. He smirked and asked has it worked? Not yet, was the smart arsed and completely candid reply.

Later He again asked how the mood was. Better one replied. Is there more improvement with an orgasm? Well no, one said, gracefully shooting oneself in the foot. Hmm interesting He murmured to himself. At that moment one could feel those spontaneous orgasms getting further away.  Sighs you do get that one is quite smart and would evade these kinds of holes normally right?

He makes one feel like a lab rabbit sometimes... does this coat make one's tail look fat?

Bastard!

3 comments:

xantu said...

I hate the soap in the arse thing... it's worse than getting it in my eyes. Orgasms don't necessarily improve my mood either. Tell him if he does something about the neighbor's dog... now that would cheer you up.

Master's piece said...

It would probably cheer up the entire neighbourhood to be honest.

lil said...

Ooh, protesting unfairness. You're brave lol.
I think I owned that dog up until about a week ago...the only condition given when he left to his new home was that he never come back lol.