I work in an environment where I spend a great deal of my eight to ten hours speaking. Speaking and listening. Speaking, training, coaching, motivating, encouraging and listening. At close of day my throat is quiet, tired and drained. When at last I am home I wish not to utter a sentence, to keep my lips sealed and allow the day to roll off of my shoulders, encasing myself in my slaveness.
There is a routine of my arrival home, one that permits me to shed the day and all of its restrictions. First I place my bag next to the front door so that I do not need to search for it in the morning. Second I slip from my shoes then shed my clothing, stripping each layer from my body before I have even walked down the hallway. My third step leads me into the powder room where I turn the shower on, stepping into the almost stinging hot water, allowing each droplet to cleanse my body and thoughts from all that transpired during the day. The fourth step only takes place once each of my toes is sparkling clean; from there I pat my body with a warm towel and run a comb through my wet curls, knowing as they dry I will be embodied with little girl ringlets. As the steam dissipates, I begin to feel a chill and so I lower my body, kneeling on the cool tiles and move towards my bedroom whereupon I find my collar and in my final fifth step, wrap the soft pink leather around my neck, completing my transition from determined professional to dedicated slave.
I am often in awe at how quickly my energy is replenished once I feel the leather binding my flesh. My movements become effortless and my voice is suddenly strong and lyrical. Without touch, without words my cunt becomes wet, my nipples harden and my breath is shallow, causing my heart to rise and fall rapidly out of complete desire and comfort in being His slave.
At last I am home.
~His slave
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One Response
jerusha says...
One of the things I love about being a slave is that I can let the world roll off of my shoulders. I am safe and I can just be me. I don’t have to rule and lord over the household. I am free just to be. I cannot picture living in a world where I have to be bossy professionally and then come home and be dominant again. I have done it before and it has just about killed me. It was too much stress and it was eating me up from the inside out.
My Master is trying to get me to dress more femininely and embrace that part of myself. I guess I have pushed that part of myself away viewing it as weak. I am doing better about dressing more in skirts and the like. I still have a strong aversion to the color pink though. I think I would break out in hives if Master ever made me wear that color.