My Story Pt 01

Last night He said to me "I don't care how you manage it, you are to eat your next lunch on the floor.

Ugh..those were my instructions and under our agreement that is what I was obliged to do.

I appreciate how he challenges me but when it comes down to the actual execution, sometimes I struggle.

The problem with this latest request is I was going to be at work for my next lunch and I couldn't conceive how I would be able to eat my lunch off the floor and not be fired for inappropriate behavior or even worse, have to face my co-workers afterwards.

He knew that when he challenged me, yet he also had faith that I was resourceful enough to figure it out.

At first the only thing I could think of was to use the handicap stall in the general bathroom. That would afford me some sense of privacy but I would still have to time it for when nobody would come in. I would also have to choose my lunch wisely so it's something I could slurp up quickly. Thankfully when he says to eat on the floor he just means I have to have my plate on the floor not the actual food. It would be horrible if I actually had to eat food that was touching the floor of the general bathroom. There is a definite difference between those instructions because there was an instance (actually a few times now) when I had to eat my meal off the bare floor. In those cases he specifically directed for the food to be on the floor. On those occasions I was also expected to lick the floor to ensure I didn't leave any crumbs behind.

As I mulled this over his newest assignment, I realized I could come home for lunch and eat something off the floor of my bedroom. This is a perk of living within a 15 minute drive from work. I had gone home for my lunch hour on other days for various vanilla reasons so it would not be viewed as out of the ordinary by my co-workers. So that would be my plan. I carefully packed some diced fruits and cheeses as they would be easy to pick up with my mouth and wouldn't make a mess of me. The fact that it was on the healthy side is an added bonus.

The next day I was able to successfully get home, strip and eat my lunch. Even though He was not present, I was still expected to be naked with my ass high in the air as I ate. He would sometimes ask me about details like that to make sure I was maintaining the standard he set. I'm sure I could lie but that would undermine the trust we have in each other.

There was nothing else eventful that day but I did get a secret thrill going into work that morning, knowing what I had to do. It was a bit disconcerting to return to work afterwards with the memory of being a naked and eating my lunch like a common house pet.

The first time I ate off the actual floor was about a year into our relationship. I had been eating some of my meals naked on my hands and knees in front of him often enough by then but it was always on a plate or bowl. I was usually able to clear my plate as required but one morning as I was making myself some oatmeal He indicated that I was to take this meal displaying my subservience. I.e. kneeling naked, ass high in the air with my plate on the floor and not permitted to use my hands.

I don't know if it was the bowl size or it's just hard to slurp up oatmeal but I was not able to get the last quarter of it. I had already gotten a couple of ass smacks for using my hands to get the bowl at a good angle to get at it. I knew if I continued to try with my hands I would end up with some punishing cracks from the cane.

I kept at it for a while as he sat watching, being amused by my struggles. He would make comments about my fat ass being high up and the slurping noises I made while I tried to get the rest of it. Finally he took the bowl and dumped the remaining oatmeal on the floor in front of me. I looked up at him in trepidation but he was stern and merely pointed at the floor and said "Finish up". Blushing and whimpering, I started lapping up the oats as he chided me to make sure I got it all.

"I don't want any mess left on the floor just because you can't eat your breakfast well. Make sure you lick it clean" he instructed as he pushed on the back of my head gently down to further my face into the food. I finished my meal and licked the floor clean to his satisfaction but before I was allowed to clean myself up he walked me over to the mirror so I could see how much of a piggy I looked like with the oatmeal smeared from my nose to my chin.

He asked, "What do you say?"

I dutifully replied "Thank you for my breakfast Sir. "

With a swat at my butt, he said "Good girl, now go clean up".

He and I have been together for about ten years now and our relationship is in that comfy routine phase nowadays. It did take a lot of work from both of us to get there. While I have always been an independent person, I found I have a need for someone to help keep me stabilized and focused. He fills that role for me. In return, He gained someone that cares and looks out for him, someone that takes His wants and needs into consideration.

While I will gladly strip and drop to my knees to accept his cock at a snap of his fingers, I am not His slave or captive. We present as quite the loving vanilla couple to those outside our kinky group of friends and occasional partners. Although I think our neighbors are a bit suspicious and have probably caught a few glimpses that would be hard to explain away. I am sure that if they get too close to the garage on a given Sunday morning, they would hear the sounds of someone getting a good old fashioned whuppin, much like the woodshed of yore.