Master called me 3 times before 12pm today. While I was tempted to claw through the fog of sleep and answer the phone on more than one occasion, I didn’t. I’m on holidays and next week things will be ‘back to normal’ in slaveville. I thought I might try and enjoy my last days of ‘freedom’.
Master said not answering the phone was ‘blatant disobedience’, I stand by my defence that I’m not a ‘morning person’ hehehe. It’s a very good thing that education strokes for disobedience evaporate at 12am that night, or I’d have a very sore and sorry ass next Friday.
My M/M tally (masturbation and McDonalds) has hit 13/3 with at least another few on cards before the end of the week. Thirteen releases in twenty one days, I’m not sure if that is a lot or not so many. I don’t know how often other people masturbate, but I know that weeks have gone by when I’m with Master and I haven’t asked for a release.
Well, it’s not that I haven’t wanted to ask, it’s just that I’ve been too shamed or too worried about bothering him to ask. There have been quite a few nights that I’ve padded softly into his bedroom stopping just inside the door, torn between wanting to wake him to get permission for release, and letting him sleep in peace. I’ve turned and gone back to my bedroom more times than I can count.
It’s a very tough thing for me to ‘ask’ for release and even tougher to ‘admit’ that I need one. I hate having to depend on Master for release. I really do resent the control he has over one of my most basic processes. I suppose it would be like having to ask for permission to go to the toilet, but I don’t think I’d have as much trouble with that. I constantly talk to people about my toilet habits! Announcing that I’m going for a wee or a poo and Master and I regularly discuss how many ‘poo jews’ we have or haven’t had. (I seriously do think that boys have too many poo jews! It’s just not natural.)
Master always tells me to wake him for ‘whatever reason’ but I really feel ashamed going into his bedroom and kneeling gently on the bed to wake him. He knows immediately what I’m there for, but always, always makes me say exactly what I’m there for. He likes to hear me say it. He likes to hear me admit to being a slut and an animal that wants her needs satiated. He likes to watch me rock and pulse and feel the bed quiver as he holds my leash or hair. Holding desperately to the edge before I slide over I squeeze out those four little words,
‘May I cum Master?’
‘Come for me bitch.’
Pulling me back towards him, pinning me down with his body and roughly shoving his fingers into the cunt that belongs to him. He feels my moistness and often parades it in front of my face, remarking on how wet and moist his little slut it. He then often forces his fingers into my mouth so I can taste the animal that I am after I have cum for him and his amusement alone.