"I do love it it when you show a little fire," you whispered in my ear last night. Just after you chained my collar to the foot of your bed, just before you went to sleep.
I sat up all night, glaring at you. Well, knelt up. Knelt on the soft dog bed where you left me chained with my wrists cuffed behind my back, the cuffs affixed to the ankle binders. The gag in my mouth keeping me from any noise louder than whimpering, and I wasn't about to whimper for you. So I knelt there, and glared, and slowly felt my cock soften and the stinging of your riding crop and your paddle fade.
With the sunrise you awake, looking at me sleepily. At some point my glare had softened to an appreciation for your beauty and your cruelty. Once or twice I even found myself smiling fondly for a moment, before realizing how mad I still was at you for leaving me like this, in a position where it was impossible for me to sleep or shift more than a few inches.
"Good morning, pet," you murmur.
In the warm morning sunlight through the blinds you look younger, more innocent than you had last night in the shadows and the candlelight. You hadn't bothered to remove your makeup before falling asleep, so it's smudged and smeared and actually kind of adorable, like you were a kid playing with Mom's makeup kit with no idea what you were doing.
You scrub your face with your hands, smearing your mascara further, and smile at me blearily. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
I don't make a sound behind my gag. I want to be mad at you--I am mad at you--but you look so sweet and innocent, you sound so concerned.
"Don't be like that," you say. "Tell me, pet. Did you sleep?"
I shake my head.
"Oh," you say. "I'm sorry. I guess I got a little carried away. I know you love to suffer for me, and you know how I love it when you do. I thought it would be fun."
I know you're lying. I know you're manipulating me. The caring sweetheart act to cover up the cruelty. But it doesn't matter. My eyes tear up a bit. God, I worship you.
"Let me get you unchained," you say. You slip out from between the clean white sheets, naked and unashamed, and come to the foot of the bed. You bend to kiss me on the forehead as you start to unbuckle the ball gag from behind my head. "Poor boy."
But then you stop. "One second, pet," you say, ruffling my sweat-stiff hair. "I really need to pee first, okay? You're such a good boy for me."
*A good boy.* I can't help but preen at the words and the little shows of affection, but a whine escapes my mouth nonetheless. My jaw is killing me. The bottom half of my face is stiff with my own slobber.
"I'll just be a moment," you tell me sweetly, and disappear into the bathroom. You leave the door open as you sit on the toilet. I can't see you, but I can hear. In just a moment I'll be free. When the toilet flushes I realize that my erection has returned. Not that you'll play with it when you come back. But it doesn't know that.
"Actually," you call out. "I'll just be a few minutes longer. I'm an absolute mess. Just a quick shower..."
I can't help but moan in frustration. I'm so tired. Everything hurts. My jaw, my knees, my shoulders... I've been in one position for more than 6 hours.
But I've made it 6 hours for you. I can make it a little longer.
The shower kicks on and I hear the glass door open and thud closed again, and then I hear the sounds of you pulling shampoo and conditioner through your thick, dark hair, and the spatter of water as it hits the floor while you rinse. I hear the slick sounds of you lathering your body.
"The water's really warm," you call out to me. "I wish you could join me, but I'm not tracking water all over the bedroom just to let you loose. Sorry, pet."
I grind my teeth into the gag in frustration.
