My master has a wicked sense of humour. Especially when I’m on a healthy diet of orgasm denial.
Ever since I started studying again, I have Sundays free.
I wake up early, take a walk, clean the house, take a shower, have my coffee and morning joint, read the newspapers and then get started on my papers and assignments.
He seems to think that while I should do all of that, I should spend the entire day in active, constant arousal.
He will insist I work naked or in just my panties. That I work chained to my desk. He will insist I don’t shower. He will keep calling and saying the most painful things. He will send food to my place so I have to rush and dress or untie myself. He’ll insist I have company over. Or that I spend the entire day with my legs spread. Or gagged.
But not one thing that would cause physical pain, it’s like he wants to confiscate all my releases.
I fail to understand why it amuses him so.
He seems to revel in the knowledge that I’m wet. The wetter I get, the happier he gets. And how he laughs every time I describe it to him.
That laugh just makes my heart leap out of my chest. It makes my fingers and toes hurt.
It’s barely afternoon and I can’t take it anymore.
You know, If I were him, i’d like to witness all this, yet he never does come to see me on Sundays. I wonder why.