"I believe she has been left alone long enough," I whisper to Myself. I finish reading the paragraph, note My place with the bookmark (in the form of a silhouette of a tall woman seen in profile, one of her many small gifts to Me), and set the hardcover novel on the coffee table. I stand, stretch, and finally make My way to the bedroom.
The carpet effectively muffles My footsteps, but I still move slowly, cautiously, wanting to keep her on edge. Granted, this is practically unnecessary, as I had placed a blindfold over her eyes and headphones on her to keep her ears filled with white noise from a small sound generator kept on the dresser. She cannot see Me, nor can she hear Me; I am not wearing any cologne this evening, so she cannot smell Me, and she definitely cannot taste Me or feel Me at this distance.
When I at last step into the bedroom, I pause. The dim blue light casts an eerie glow about the room, but it is enough to allow me to unabashedly admire the beautiful submissive who has served Me so well for nearly a decade. Other submissives have come and gone, but she has been with Me since early in her college career, when I had first feasted My eyes upon her as she and her roommate had visited the club, both cautiously curious if the rumors they had heard about BDSM clubs were indeed true.
I lean against the doorframe, My arms folded across My chest. So many memories flood My mind as I gaze upon her. Particularly, I remember her excited nervousness as I watched her strip for Me for the first time, directly in front of the living room window, the bright rays of sunset bearing directly upon her bare body and displaying her prominently to anyone who might have been passing by the house and looking in her direction at that very moment. In her haste to undress and be permitted to move away from the potential public scrutiny, she had actually tripped over her own thong while trying to lift her left foot, the bruise to her knee punishment enough for her hurriedness.
she tests the restraints securing her arms into position. Once again, padded thick leather cuffs encircle her wrists, and a thick heavy chain connects each cuff to a bolt underneath the sturdy wood-frame bed. she is such a small-framed woman that on the king-size bed, she appears to be even smaller, like a young teenager who is remarkably shorter than other girls her age. her legs are restrained similarly to the bolts underneath the frame at the foot of the bed. I can smell her arousal from the doorway, and am certain that she is even more distinctly aware of her weeping sex, filled with a pair of vibrating eggs continually clattering against each other inside her most intimate passage. Interestingly, she does not appear to be as frustrated as I had anticipated with this scenario, so I figure that I should leave her alone for another twenty minutes or so.
With some reluctance, I turn away from the bedroom, returning down the stairs and heading toward the kitchen. Making and drinking coffee, I reason, will provide enough time for frustration to finally seize My devoted submissive.
As I attempt to decide between Hazelnut and French Vanilla coffee, more images of her history with Me come to mind. I remember the final test to earn My collar. For the occasion, I had decided that the mountainside cabin would be the best place for the test, as I had truly expected her to scream so violently that had the test been conducted here, the neighbors would have called the police suspecting potential domestic abuse or even murder. The test was simple: survive one hundred strokes of the cane – the very same cane she and I had selected T/together during a trip to San Francisco – without any vocalizations (sniffling was permitted). Naked despite the chilly air of the moonlit mountain night, kneeling over the trunk of a fallen tree with her ankles and wrists cuffed and secured to stakes in the ground, she had actually passed the test on the very first attempt, the only submissive I have trained to actually accomplish such a difficult feat. I remember the pride I had felt that she had successfully passed the test "with ease," that she had never even acted as if she would use her safeword during the painful ordeal. In My experience, such a submissive is indeed a rare gift.
