“Bend over!” He commands, even though He was walking to the door to leave.
I put my elbows on the bed, and He pulls my shirt up so it covers my head, an effective blindfold for the moment. I hear him unbuckling his belt, but all I can think about is, “Where is He going to put His dick?” My panties are on (not that they couldn’t come off), and my mouth is under this tent made of my shirt. I start mapping out what He can (what I want Him to do) next.
<SMACK!> His belt hitting my back takes me completely by surprise. Lash after lash, He covers my back. There is no pause from one to the next, and I am trying desperately not to squirm too much.
When He is done, He pulls my panties aside and fingers my clit. I moan with pleasure.
He has me stand up and look at my back in the mirror. Such lovely welts! We walk to the door together. We embrace and kiss. “You may cum tonight,” He utters as His final words. I shut the door behind him.
I lay down on the bed on top of the covers. I could fall asleep. It was a long, tiring day as it was. My short beating tipped me over the edge of relaxation. My back pulsates heat, wrapping around me like a just-out-of-the-dryer blanket. I lay there for a while…just thinking.
We’d had dinner together earlier in the evening. I’d invited Master out to dinner, and I had decided before He arrived that I wanted to pay. When the check came, the waitress handed it to Him. I panicked a bit on the inside, and I reached to grab it out of his hand. The waitress backed off to get out of the way, and I was left with Master’s eyes piercing through me. “May I treat you to dinner?” I meekly ask, hoping it engenders forgiveness since I’d skipped the permission part. He agrees with an admonishing tone.
I look at the bill and decide to reach for my phone so I can calculate the tip since all my brain can do is start beating myself up for handling that so badly. He takes the phone from me and sets it face down on the table. “You can do this,” He says, and I feel like I am in elementary school taking a test in basic math.
I calculated the tip and signed the bill. He opens the bill to see what I left. “That’s too low,” He says. I think about it, and it is. I just calculated wrong. He walks me through the math, and again I feel like I’m in elementary school. Oh, how I wish I could just crawl under the table right now! I make a mess of fixing the bill and initial it everywhere I scribbled out the old amounts.
“You flummox me sometimes,” I mutter trying to explain myself as to why I’m acting this way. He seems surprised by this. He then seems to get that I’m nervous about being perfect for Him.
“Let me put your mind at ease,” He says. “In the ways you are not perfect, I don’t expect you to be. In the ways I expect you to be perfect, you already are.”
His words ring through my head and melt within me as I lay there on the bed with my back tingling. I roll over and cum 12 times, soaking the bed. When I am done, I finger my collar realizing how much worrying about being perfect for Him impedes me from surrendering completely to Him.