Just a little tidbit about what’s been going on the past few days. I’ve been having some issues writing. Every time I open up Fix-It Fast 8 about Ria, I end up editing. I like what I have. I like where it’s going. My issue is that I can’t seem to get to the meat of the story. Ria is being a little stubborn. So I’m being patient and waiting for her to let me tell her story.
In the meantime, I’m going for walks and working, and listening to audiobooks. I’m reading and responding in the EroticaAuthor subReddit. I’m learning new ways of writing by listening to Rose Caraway as she narrates in her sultry, sexy voice the stories of people I wish to emulate. I wrote this after listening to several chapters of The Big Book of Submission. I hope you enjoy Collared, I feel like it’s a bit deeper, a bit more subtle, and yet scintillating as well. Okay, I’ll get out of your way and let you get into the meat of things.
I couldn’t help it. My hand kept returning to touch my neck, to caress it lightly where leather once encircled. I hadn’t worn any jewelry today as it was too much to bear. Flashes of the previous night randomly appeared in my mind when people used simple everyday words. The fill-in receptionist was asked where someone was and she replied, “I’m not sure, sir. I don’t keep people on leashes, but I can page them for you if they aren’t at their desk.”
Hearing the word leashes caused me to reach again for a collar that wasn’t there. The word sir had sent a tingle down my center to settle in my pussy. I had spent a long weekend serving him, my Master. After being fully submissive from Thursday evening until Tuesday morning, it was difficult getting back into the groove of the nine to five grind. Coworkers had to ask me questions twice or repeat their answers when I asked them one. I could hear the difficulty of dealing with me in their voice. After all, I had just been away for four full days and shouldn’t have any issues after such a nice, long vacation.
I had gone so deeply into my submissive role I almost didn’t leave my Master’s home this morning to return to normal everyday life. He had to order me to go. I could see the indecision in his eyes when I took a chance to look into them. After all, the holiday was over and I had to be my other self again.
Living in a cubicle eight hours a day made it a little more difficult because I didn’t have a door I could close to eliminate the overwhelming sense of the people around me. Their chattering voices filled my mind and I couldn’t think.
I overheard someone going to pick up some iced lattes to battle the heat and it reminded me of the whipped cream my Master had covered me with and then allowed others to clean it off of me. It had been so hard not to allow myself to climax when there were tongues on my breasts, my pussy, lapping along my rib cage and other places.
Never before had my Master allowed me to service others. I was still new and not quite fully trained, but he felt that I could handle it. Being blindfolded had both helped my nervousness and ramped up my desire. I knew both men and women had been tasting my body mixed with whipped cream. I knew the women from their soft skin, the way their breasts brushed against me as they bent over my spread-eagled form. And the men, oh the men! Their faces with stubble or soft facial hair had tantalized my desire to such dizzying heights.
My Master had pulled them off of me shortly before I climaxed. My breathing was rapid, my heart raced like a thoroughbred. I had been so very close to disobeying my Master, but he knew me much better than I knew myself. He had been so kind to pull off the others before I broke my promise. My Master is very kind and cares for me well.
I shook my head and wiggled the mouse. My mind had wandered so deeply that my monitors had turned themselves off. I squirmed in my chair, not uncomfortable, but to feel the sticky dampness of my panties against my most sensitive skin. I wanted to touch myself, to relieve the desire building the way a fire is slowly kindled until it burns high and bright.
I bit my lip, but the pain of doing so reminded me of the punishment I had endured at the hands, and chosen implements, of my Master. The crop had left interesting marks on my skin and I could feel them when I moved a certain way. Despite the heat of the day I had worn pants to cover the marks left lovingly by my Master.
Glancing at the clock showed me that I hadn’t even made it past ten, yet. It was going to be a long day. As I turned back to the work I’d been trying to focus on, my phone vibrated. Three short buzzes. Master was the only one set up for that sequence. I picked it up, hands trembling at what might be waiting for me behind the locked screen.
Pressing my fingerprint to the button, the phone unlocked and I brought up the message.
Stop touching your neck, Slave. It’s driving me mad with need every time you do.
Heat filled my face. He was watching me, knew I wanted him. I did what every good slave should do and replied.
Yes, Master. I will do my best to please you.