This is a continuation of an earlier story.
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It has been two weeks since I talked to my Master. Exactly fourteen days since I subjected myself to His humiliation in the bathroom at work. I haven't heard anything from Him since.
These kinds of gaps in our communication aren't unusual. In the six months or so we've been talking, there have been times when I haven't heard from Him for this long. But it still didn't stop me from feeling anxious, wondering if He will ever text me again. As much as I try to push these thoughts out of my mind, they seem to linger and grow stronger with each passing day of silence.
I try to keep myself busy with work, my family, and other activities. But every time my phone buzzes with a new message, my heart races with excitement, hoping it's Him. And every time I see it's from someone else my desire for Him grows. And even during the distractions of my responsibilities, I find He still dominates my thoughts. Sometimes I forget how much I really need Him.
He seems to like to test my submission with His long stretches of silence that make me sit and pine for Him as I stew on the reality of what I am doing. But He also tests me with when He decides to reach out. It's always at the most inconvenient times in my life: Work meetings, family dinners, romantic evenings with my husband - being His sub is a 24/7 on-call job.
I am almost finished getting ready for bed when I hear my phone vibrate on the bathroom counter. And it was finally what I've been waiting for.
Call me. You have 60 seconds.
I get a little flutter every time I see that text from Him, and I can't help but smile. It's been a long Friday, a tiring end to a busy week. But He doesn't want it to end just yet. I just stare at the message for a second.
My next thought is wondering if I should ignore it. It's really late, the rest of the house has gone to sleep. I should already be long asleep myself. I had never missed responding to Him whenever He has sent me this text, and I have always wondered what would happen if I didn't call within 60 seconds. I know enough to understand it wouldn't be good. But He's never texted this late. Maybe He will think I'm asleep?
But as I pause and think about it more, I realize the truth - He always knows. I want to call Him. I need to call Him.
As the phone rings, I shuffle downstairs quietly, trying to keep my excitement subdued so as not to wake anyone up. As always, He picks up quickly.
"Good girl," He purrs. "I'm glad I caught you before you got in bed next to your husband."
My stomach flips at Him mentioning my husband, especially when he is so close. I know there is a risk of getting caught, but that's part of the sick exciting thrill for me.
"Thank you, Sir. I'm glad you caught me before bed too," I reply softly.
"You're very welcome, Slut. Now your first task is to tell me what you are wearing this evening."
I am not exactly dressed up. I look down at my pajamas, which are definitely comfort over style. "I am wearing red flannel bottoms with white polka dots, a large purple T-shirt, and black and white striped cotton panties, Sir."
I hear a slight creak from the second floor. My eyes dart toward the stairs as I freeze. No other sounds or movements come. Was I being too loud?
"You've already taken off your bra and makeup I presume?" He asks.
I take a second to confirm no other noises come from upstairs before answering, quieter this time, "Yes Sir."
"And your hair?"
"In a ponytail, Sir," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper
"Why are you speaking to me so quietly?" His loud commanding voice is a sharp contrast to mine. "Are you really worried about waking someone up?" He sounds more amused than annoyed, but I know those two feelings can change quickly with Him.
"Yes Sir," I admit.
He sighs, and then He does what He does best. He tells me what to do.
"Listen carefully. I need you to obey my orders exactly." My heart begins to beat faster as I smile at these words. Nothing quite excites me more than when He gives me a task. I crave obeying, and He generously provides me the opportunity to be obedient. "Take your hair out of a ponytail, I want it down. Next, take off your wedding ring and leave it somewhere at home. Then grab the shoes you wore to work today, your car keys, earbuds, and purse. Go start your car and call me again once your phone is connected to Bluetooth. Hurry now, slut. Don't keep me waiting."
And with that, He hangs up. My heart is beating out of my chest now. I don't hesitate. I use the sudden burst of energy I have to obey Him as quickly as possible.
First, I put my scrunchie out of my hair, letting my brown locks fall on my shoulders. Then I slide my wedding ring off. He loves to play with this symbol of my marriage. He never lets me forget I'm a cheater or avoid the feelings of guilt that come with it. With shaking hands, I place the diamond-studded band in a drawer in the kitchen. If somehow my husband does wake up, I can't have him finding it just sitting there.
Next, I go to collect my keys and grab my earbuds and put them in my purse. As I slide on my black heels with an ankle strap that I was so excited to be done wearing for the day, I start wondering what he's going to have me do next. I stand up and can't help but feel a bit ridiculous wearing these heels with my pajamas.
I gently close the front door behind me and turn the key slowly to lock it as quietly as I can. I tread carefully towards my black SUV parked in the driveway, looking back and up to see if anyone has heard me leave. But the house remains dark as I get in the driver's seat.
I sit there in silence for a moment before starting it up. When I do, the sound of the motor starting fills the air and the cabin lights flash on, briefly illuminating me. As the engine noise lowers to a steady rumble and the lights switch off, I check again, and still, my house remains dark. I breathe a sigh of relief as I connect my phone to the Bluetooth in my car and call Him back.
"Good girl, now pull out of your driveway and start driving away from your house. I don't want you feeling like you have to be quiet with me. Because things are going to get loud."
"Yes, Sir," I reply as I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I put the car in reverse and back out onto the road. It feels surreal to be driving around in the dead of night, wearing nothing but my pajamas and high heels. But then again, when it comes to my Master's orders, nothing is ever quite ordinary.
I take a random right down the quiet suburban street at the end of my cul-de-sac. I keep looking around for other people, fearful of being seen by anyone, but especially someone I know. But no one around here seems to be out at this hour, except for me.
As I drive around, my Master asks me about how things have gone in the two weeks since we've last talked. He seems to like to collect data on me, and I enjoy answering His questions, telling Him secrets I keep from everyone else.
"How many times have you pleasured yourself, my pet?" He inquires.
"Eight times, Sir," I confess. There was a time not that long ago where I would go months or even a year without masturbating eight times. Now that He had flipped my horny switch it seems there's no turning it off again.
"Describe to me when and where you performed these acts." Blushing, I reveal how I have been waking up early so I have time to touch myself in the shower. I said sometimes that when my husband goes to sleep, I would sneak off to the living room, remembering all the naughty things my Master had commanded me to do as I quietly use my fingers on myself.
Then He probes further, "And how many times has your husband gotten to have sex with you?"
I reply that it's been once. He presses for the details, and I oblige him, feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated by His questioning.
I tell Him that I initiated, as always. And how at first he told me he wasn't in the mood. This was the night after my workplace task the last time my Master and I talked.
"I left you quite a horny little mess last time, didn't I?" He asks.
"Yes, Sir, I was quite...desperate." I describe how I had tried to have sex that night but was turned down multiple times by my husband. I told Him that the next night I couldn't resist it any longer.
After we got ready for bed, I went towards my husband's dick, trying to slide down his sweatpants despite him being distracted by the book he was reading. I told him I needed him and I asked him if I could suck his dick. He hesitated for a moment, but eventually he agreed. I eagerly pulled at his waistband and pulled his cock out, taking it into my mouth. As I worked him with my mouth and got him hard, I felt both the excitement of finally getting what I wanted but also the naughty wish that it was my Master's cock instead. But either way, at the moment, I needed someone's cock inside me.
I describe how I pulled away from his dick and asked him to fuck me. I was desperate, practically begging. To my pleasant surprise, he agreed. I quickly stripped off my pajamas, much like the ones I'm wearing now. I spread my legs and my husband got on top of me, entering me easily as I was already soaking wet.
I described for my Master how we both gasped as he finally entered me for the first time in weeks. How I wrapped my legs around his waist and jerked my hips up desperate to take him deep. And how after a few minutes, it was over.
"Did he cum inside you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And did he make you cum?"
"...No, Sir, he didn't," I confess.
"And it wasn't enough for you, was it, slut?"
"No, Sir, not nearly enough."
I describe how after my husband quickly fell asleep I went to the bathroom to clean up and ended up using my fingers on myself. I put one leg up on the edge of the tub and rubbed my clit to an enjoyable, but ultimately unsatisfying orgasm.
"Well it's a good thing you have Me, isn't it?"
"I am very lucky to have someone like you, Sir," I reply honestly. I ponder how fortunate I am to have such a dominant presence in my life. How lucky I am to be able to explore my deepest desires and fantasies with someone who truly knows all of me.
"Is there a park nearby?" He asks.
