Entranced.

I noticed him the moment he entered. He was stand­ing when I first spot­ted his hooded face. Initially he appeared small, demure in nature; how­ever, the moment he slipped to the ground, his back sud­denly appeared stronger, broader and his con­fid­ence intens­i­fied. I could not help but watch as his dark sil­hou­ette glided through the crowd. He moved with grace as his fists clenched into balls and his feet angled and poised as he lif­ted first his right then left leg, bend­ing with force so that his knees never touched the floor. The whites of his eyes glistened and I found myself strain­ing to see his lips, the con­tours of his cheekbones, any form of expres­sion other than the wide eyed puppy gaze exhib­ited behind the large circles cut from the thick leather hood.

His every move rep­lic­ated that of a dog and I was fas­cin­ated at his atten­tion to detail. The puppy hood itself looked exactly like that of a can­ine spe­ci­men and there were moments through­out the even­ing that I had to stop myself from reach­ing out to pet him. He was being paraded through­out the dance floor and he moved in sync to whomever he was kneel­ing to. There were moments when he exhib­ited such excite­ment I was cer­tain I could hear his play­ful appre­ci­at­ive barks as he wiggled his back side in recog­ni­tion of the atten­tion he was receiving.

During a moment of expli­cit intim­acy, he moun­ted a female, push­ing his chest to her back. He moved in primal hyp­notic gyr­a­tion and the expres­sion in his eyes caused my entire body to stir. He had caught me watch­ing him and as he gaze met mine I felt para­lyzed to look away. Instead, I was held cap­tive in lust and as the puppy’s hips thrust ever so slightly against the supple bot­tom of his heats desire I thought, for a brief instant that I could actu­ally smell his feral scent.

My cheeks were a true crim­son by the time the puppy retrac­ted from his bitch and moved, sniff­ing the air before him as he moved through the horny crowd. Eventually my gaze lingered to new pas­sions; how­ever, a part of me was very aware of what the puppy was doing and where he was. And much to my humi­li­ation, Master was very well aware that I was mes­mer­ized and I am most cer­tain the grin that slowly crept up at the corners of his mouth was indic­at­ive to the pleas­ure he received from my embar­rassed state of arousal.

Eventually the even­ing ended and as our ship docked we rose and moved below so that we could return to our vehicle. Once we were nestled inside the warm car, I closed my eyes and once more I found myself watch­ing the black hooded beast, my ima­gin­a­tion tak­ing me on a whole new journey.

Master often states that I over ana­lyze most everything I hear and exper­i­ence. I have not argued this obser­va­tion because I believe Master is cor­rect. I want to absorb, pro­cess, pon­der, ques­tion and finally come to some under­stand­ing of the events which had tran­spired. Last night is a per­fect example of me embra­cing a situ­ation and allow­ing my cog­nit­ive tentacles to feel through the motions. I men­tioned in my entry pre­vi­ous to this one that Master and I par­ti­cip­ated a lovely boot cruise, Nautical Naughtiness. I had been look­ing for­ward to this event mostly because it had been far too long since I was last on a ship and I am an abso­lute water baby. I feel at ease, safe and calm when on or in water and the fact that the event was to last 4 1/2 hours made my entire body tingle. Once on the ship I found even more pleas­ure as people star­ted to board. Everyone was dressed in some form of fet­ish wear and I was, once again, curi­ous to learn oth­ers sexual desires. As we launched the music star­ted and it was not long before people began to dance. There was one girl in par­tic­u­lar who caught my atten­tion: she was in dread locks and was wear­ing a leather skirt which reminded me of a kilt. Her boots were thick, black and shackled. Her demeanor at first glance may appear more mas­cu­line; how­ever, the way she moved her frame showed a girl com­pletely in tune with her body and sexuality.

The even­ing pro­gressed and my atten­tion was drawn to numer­ous indi­vidu­als. I was most entranced with the puppy but I was also in awe at the raw sexual energy flow­ing through and between numer­ous people. I remem­ber at one point lean­ing over to speak with Master shar­ing with him that I was in awe at how the women did not even seem to notice the numer­ous fin­ger­tips caress­ing naked flesh or lips lightly nip­ping at shoulders and breasts. This was a true feast for sexu­ally anor­exic — only I did not believe any of the per­sons I was cap­tiv­ated by hav­ing deprived them­selves of any sexual pleas­ure for any length of time.

I was and still am in awe each per­sons free­ing nature; of both genders embra­cing his and her sexu­al­ity and find­ing no lim­it­a­tions to the pleas­ure he or she was crav­ing. There were no moments of hes­it­a­tion, not that my eyes could see, in fact, what I wit­nessed was a boun­ti­ful orgy of caresses, whim­pers, seduc­tion and release: A suc­cu­lent exchange of lust and sweet sexual devi­ance cel­eb­rated in all its beau­ti­ful glory.

Master may become con­fused even frus­trated at times for my over ana­lyt­ical mind but per­haps he shall reap the rewards for hav­ing a thought pro­voked slave for I have learned from this exper­i­ence and I am now ques­tion­ing those strict mor­als I have based my actions on for all these years. Sex, sexu­al­ity, sen­su­al­ity are three of the most power­ful sensations/emotions/desires/lusts any one per­son can exper­i­ence and after wit­ness­ing such exchanges I feel ignited, charged to have some of my very own. And out of all of which I observed, the trans­form­a­tion of per­son to puppy is by far one of the abso­lute strongest.

That per­son, who lowered his body to the floor was no longer human once he began to crawl. He was a dog. All I saw was animal. All I heard was animal. All I believed it to be was an animal. And I wanted to be right beside it, feel­ing all it did.

Now that is powerful.

~His

Two tick­ets in four days.

First speed­ing ticket was given to me for not wear­ing my col­lar.
My fine: 10 swats on my bot­tom and thighs with the black leather dia­mond shaped paddle.

Second speed­ing ticket was given to me for push­ing away from Masters paddle.
My fine: 1 swat on my right breast with the brown leather horse paddle.

I was more shocked than actu­ally hurt when Master imple­men­ted the first of what I feel will be many speed­ing tick­ets. I had no time to pre­pare, emo­tion­ally, for the act of being dis­cip­lined. I had been kneel­ing at the front door, wait­ing Masters arrival, excited to greet him after being gone the pre­vi­ous week. There was a new sen­sa­tion as I remained still, eager to greet Master with a bright smile and obed­i­ence. As Master opened the door, he smiled, pla­cing a kiss upon my fore­head. I was cer­tain by his expres­sion that I had pleased him which is why I was shocked to hear his stern voice ask me where my col­lar was. In my excite­ment of being home I had com­pletely for­got­ten to place the leather back around my neck. Immediately I asked to run upstairs; how­ever, Master quickly stopped my speech by pla­cing his hand over my mouth and ask­ing me the ques­tion I was not ready to hear.

“How many slave?” His voice was calm but his eyes exhib­ited a rum­bling, some­thing darker inside.

It took a moment to pro­cess his words, to under­stand what he was refer­ring to. Hesitantly I answered, hop­ing my response would be met with approval.

“Ten, Master.” I had cleared my throat prior to answer­ing not wish­ing to have to repeat myself, know­ing my voice gen­er­ally turns excep­tion­ally quiet when con­fron­ted with being reprimanded.

“Good.” Was all that Master rebut­ted before he climbed the thir­teen steps to our bed­room, retriev­ing the unknown instru­ment. He returned swiftly and without instruc­tion, I lowered my fore­head to the cool tile, wait­ing for each swat.

“You will count with each swat. You will thank me for each one as well slave.” As his voice trailed I felt the first of ten spank­ings, all which landed with a loud thud upon my lower body. I could hear the faint tremble behind my words, uncer­tain as to where the tears were com­ing from. Master was not hit­ting me nearly hard enough to cre­ate this reac­tion and yet as the last blow landed heav­ily on my bot­tom, I found myself in full sobs, push­ing my entire body against the floor.
“Good girl. You may get up now slave.” Master was kiss­ing the back of my head before he gran­ted me per­mis­sion to rise and before I had time to look up at him, he had already moved into the liv­ing room, tend­ing to tasks he wished to com­plete. I laid there, motion­less, try­ing to absorb, to pro­cess the events that tran­spired. I felt con­fused and yet calm. Only minutes passed before I pushed myself up, brushed off my clothes and returned to the kit­chen to pre­pare Masters his dinner.

We did not dis­cuss the exchange, it was as though it was as nat­ural as breathing.

__________________________________________________________________

The boat cruise Master and I atten­ded last night was where the second speed­ing ticket was admin­istered. Master was push­ing my com­fort levels by tak­ing the brown paddle and swat­ting my breasts with it. The first strike made me squeal but my reac­tion was more from the fact that we were not alone, we were accom­pan­ied by a friend. Having her sit across from me, hav­ing her watch as Master blatantly swat­ted each of my (covered) breasts brought a shade of red to my face that most likely matched that of a cherry tomato. I became grossly embar­rassed and nervous and I could see people watch­ing as Master con­tin­ued to strike me. Although he was not hit­ting me hard, it still caused my nipples to become hard and I was extremely aware of my arousal. Throughout the even­ing, Master would catch me off guard and I would find the leather land­ing on either fab­ric or the bare tops of my breasts. It was dur­ing one of these ran­dom inter­ludes that I moved away from Master, caus­ing his paddle to miss my body. I knew the moment I flinched that I should not have and with a gleam in his eyes Master spoke those all too pain­ful words.

“How many slave?” There was an actual smile linger­ing behind his soft blue pools and I found myself smil­ing at him.

“One?” My voice was clearly a ques­tion and I was uncer­tain if he would per­mit such a low fine.

“One it is.” And just like before, as soon as the last syl­lable escaped his lips, I found the pain of the leather cas­cade over my body, the tip of his paddle smack­ing the top of my right breast, leav­ing a resound­ing thwack sound. My win­cing was genu­ine this time as the sting Master cre­ated was lasting.

I felt intense humi­li­ation as I felt eyes gaze upon me. Truly I should not have since what was occur­ring in our corner of the ship paled in com­par­ison to the copi­ous amounts of sexual debauch­ery tak­ing place in the cen­ter of the ves­sel. Still, know­ing Master had dis­cip­lined me with many people around us and with our friend sit­ting beside us, well, it shook me to the core. I was able to main­tain my com­pos­ure, I thanked and coun­ted the one swat and I do believe I made Master happy for tak­ing my ticket without hes­it­a­tion. I was cau­tious for the remainder of the sail though, not want­ing to bring fur­ther atten­tion to me, not want­ing my skin to glow pinker than it already was.

________________________________________________________________

I am uncer­tain why I star­ted this entry dis­cuss­ing the two speed­ing tick­ets I have received instead of dis­cuss­ing my wel­come home from Master and all that tran­spired. Perhaps I needed to share those two moments to help pro­cess all that tran­spired between me and my Master. Perhaps it was because I was nervous about reliv­ing the exper­i­ence. Regardless of the reason, I have decided not to edit this entry, like I do with so many, and to leave this one exactly as it is typed.

The moment I walked through the air­port doors and saw Master I smiled. I smiled with an exuber­ance I had felt when I hugged my close friends back home only seven days pre­vi­ously. I beamed in fact and I could not walk fast enough to him, want­ing to hug him with everything in me. As I reached his body, my arms opened wide, as did his and I was engulfed in a hug as big as my own. We were quiet, just being in our embrace and it felt really good to be home. We par­ted, only so that I could admire my beau­ti­ful seven long stemmed roses (one for each day I was gone) and to thank Master for the beau­ti­ful gift. As I cradled the roses in one arm, I wrapped my right one around him once again, just want­ing to feel his body close, to feel his pres­ence tightly against mine. Within moments, Master had slipped from my tight embrace and taken my hand, guid­ing me back to the car, tak­ing me home.

It felt good as I was greeted by two happy kit­tens. After a few pats and tummy rubs, Master and I found our way upstairs, into our bed­room. Without skip­ping a beat, we engaged in our bed­time routine and after wash­ing faces, brush­ing teeth, we found ourselves nestled in bed, face to face, lips lightly brush­ing against each other. I breathed him in, smelling his skin, his scent, everything about him. I had only been gone one week and yet I felt as though it had been longer.

There was a pas­sion between Master and I that I had not exper­i­enced before. In many ways, I feel as though we were feed­ing off of each other. With every caress of Masters fin­gers I was ignited. My pulse was hot as it coursed through my veins and my breath was held cap­tive in my lungs. Master played with me, my entire body and I gave everything, all of me to him without hes­it­a­tion, without reluct­ance. I lay spread, open to his demands, the plunging, roam­ing fin­gers and I found myself arch­ing my back con­tinu­ously, scream­ing out not only with my voice but with my body, as each orgasm con­trolled me, dom­in­ated me. I became greedy, primal and my moans, growls exhib­ited my emo­tions. In time, Master allowed me to feast from his cock, only this time Master was not gentle, he was all con­sum­ing and used my mouth, my tongue, my lips in a man­ner for­eign but intox­ic­at­ing to me. I can recall a moment when Master had instruc­ted my hands behind my back and he had fist­fuls of my hair. He was plunging his cock down my throat, almost rap­ing it, as he thrust harder, without cau­tion, without care. He con­tin­ued to molest my throat, my lips, my tongue until at last he was filling me with his cum, com­mand­ing me to drink every drop, to not allow any to spill from my lips. (Times before I might have opened my mouth regard­less of what he said, afraid I would choke, I did not this time. There was some­thing new to his voice, to his com­mand and I dare not disobey.)

I was cer­tain after he drained him­self inside my stom­ach he would be fin­ished with me, I was wrong. He pushed me down on the bed and as he had done earlier, began to use my flesh, run­ning his hands over my body, delving his fin­gers deep inside my cunt. I was squirm­ing, beg­ging, growl­ing and even­tu­ally with his per­mis­sion, cum­ming. I came with such pas­sion, with such force. My entire body con­vulsed. I was filled with shock, with intens­ity. Somewhere dur­ing our exchange I found myself lying on my stom­ach, sob­bing with lust­ful rage, I could barely com­pre­hend what Master was say­ing to me.

I was raw. No. I was bare. I felt bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. I was con­sumed with such a sense of loss and yet gain. My mind was spin­ning. My heart racing and my eyes filled with tears. I could not under­stand Masters ten­der­ness as he pulled me tightly against his frame, kiss­ing my cheek, the back of my neck, shush­ing me to find com­fort in his embrace. I clung to his arms, grip­ping them as though some­how his limbs were keep­ing my head above water, allow­ing me to breathe. As our bod­ies calmed, the room finally quiet, I heard his tender voice whis­per, “wel­come home baby girl” and it was then that I could finally drift off to sleep.

______________________________________________________________

The next morn­ing as Master kissed me good bye before he left for work, I felt an over­whelm­ing sense of naked­ness. I looked down, cer­tain the cov­ers were tossed to the side; instead I was cocooned in the heavy duvet. I was puzzled and moved through­out the house feel­ing exposed. Something was new, dif­fer­ent. Later in the after­noon as I nestled in the tub it dawned on me, I felt bare. As bare as I had the night before. I had a pecu­liar sen­sa­tion to doc­u­ment my new sen­sa­tion and so I cap­tured my bare­ness with a pho­to­graph. Since the day it was taken, I have looked at my makeup less, slicked back hair pic­ture and sat in won­der­ment. I was look­ing at myself through dif­fer­ent eyes, through the eyes of a girl who is truly under­stand­ing her own­er­ship, her value as property.

Things are dif­fer­ent now between Master and I. There is an exchange tran­spir­ing and this is new ter­rit­ory. The land­scape might look the same but what lies beneath is some­thing stronger, some­thing power­ful and although I am nervous, I am happy with this new found­a­tion. I believe we are stronger than we ever have been and although I do not enjoy the speed­ing tick­ets I have received and will receive, I do like the Sheriff who gives them to me. I am a rules girl. I like rules and reg­u­la­tions. I like order and con­duct. I thrive on expect­a­tions and dis­cip­line. I am for­tu­nate to have a Master who under­stands this. Who saw this in me far before I could. Although I do not like to be work for Master, in the end the tick­ets will make me a bet­ter per­son, a bet­ter slave and I am will­ing to do any­thing for that.

~His