The entire drive back to campus, I was a nervous wreck. I felt a pit deep inside my stomach as I shivered every so often in anticipation. I was excited. I was also scared.
The best part of the drive was noticing that the marks on my ass no longer hurt, not much anyway, while I was sitting. They had healed gradually after Lauren and her friend removed the stitches. Faint marks remained, of course. But over the course of the summer, the pain of sitting had gradually diminished. I almost hadn't realized, over the past several weeks, how I could only feel a slight twinge now when I was sitting on a hard surface. The memory of that day, however, was etched into my brain. The most harrowing experience of my life now felt like a vague warning hanging over me at all hours. I vowed to be on my best behavior for Lauren.
Thinking again of Lauren, I sighed. I pictured her face, sweet but serious, her cute body, short stature, intimidating posture. I wondered how long it would be until I was allowed to lie before her again and kiss her feet. Gradually, I felt the pressure of my cock swelling, pressing painfully against its silicone enclosure. I took a deep breath. Lauren's gift to me, the chastity device I'd worn since I last saw her, had no doubt saved me. God, I missed Lauren. Nearly two and a half months apart was far too long. I wanted so badly to throw myself at her feet, to follow her orders, to experience her minute-by-minute guidance. To not only know that she owned me, but to actually feel it - to experience completely her ownership of me.
I was nervous, too. Scared. I now knew the stakes. Disobedience meant severe punishment. I inhaled deeply, exhaled through pursed lips, promised myself again that I'd always monitor my behavior. As fearful as I felt, however, I couldn't wait to get back. I needed to get back to serving Lauren. It was primal, the drive to devote my entire existence to her.
Nearing campus, I pulled up the address again on my phone. In one of her infrequent texts, Lauren had informed me that as soon as I arrived again at school, I'd be meeting her at her new apartment, and helping her move in. I was to proceed directly to the address, no stopping anywhere first. I planned to move my things in to my own new apartment tonight, whenever Lauren was finished with me. I didn't have time to think of it, as I realized I was only a few blocks away. Turning onto Deerfield Street, I proceeded slowly, looking for the building. My hands turned sweaty as I saw it, a mid-sized house, of which Lauren was renting part of the upstairs. I noticed her car parked in front of it. Deep breaths as I parked behind her. She was here; my owner was nearby, and I knew my summer break from serving her was over.
I cradled my phone in my wet palm, then took another deep breath. As instructed, I sent Lauren a text.
"I'm here, Lauren."
Sent. A nervous moment later, the response. "Be right down."
Opening the car door, I stretched, stood, walked over to the sidewalk, and waited. Rubbing my hands on my shirt to dry them, I exhaled, hard. The feeling of being directly under Lauren's control started to return. It was imminent. I'd forgotten just how intimidating that feeling could be. Finally, the front door opened, and Lauren strode out toward me, expressionless.
She was beautiful as ever. Now nineteen years old, the sight of her brought me back to a state of helpless surrender. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the first time I'd ever seen it that way, and looked to be just slightly longer than it had been last Spring. She wore black yoga pants, another new look, and a white sleeveless top. Her bare feet were in flip-flops, and I choked a little, remembering the kisses I'd given her foot, anticipating more to come. As she approached me, her serious look melted, just a little, into a closed-mouth smile.
"Hello again, slave!"
I stood awkwardly, hands behind my back, gaze lowered.
"Hello, Lauren."
"Ready to serve me?" She spoke with a little smirk.
"Yes, Lauren, I am. I'm so excited to be back to serve you."
"Good BOY! It won't be as easy this time as last year, though."
"I understand, Lauren." I wasn't sure I actually did, though.
Lauren, who was holding her keys in her hand, clicked her car unlocked, and walked toward it. She motioned for me to open the rear hatch. I opened it, and looked at all her things packed carefully inside.
"Start with the suitcase. The big one. Carry it up CAREFULLY."
"Yes, Lauren."
Pulling the suitcase out of the car, I carried it as carefully as I could down the walk, following behind Lauren. This felt familiar. Oh god, she looked so good, and hearing her carefree bossy voice order me around brought me right back to every memory of last spring, and my cock was pressing hard against its enclosure, as I shrugged off a shiver and controlled my breath. Inside the front door, I followed Lauren up the flight of stairs, carefully lifting the bag up each step, looking down at Lauren's feet ahead of me the whole time. Thirteen steps up, and we reached the landing outside the door to Apartment 3, where Lauren put her hand on my chest and stopped me.
"Listen, slave. Closely. You're not going to step foot in my apartment with your shoes on, or even socks on. Not one step. Anytime your slave self steps into my apartment, it's only going to be with your bare feet. Barefoot, walking softly. Is that clear?"
Lauren's pale blue eyes met mine, holding my gaze intently. It had been too long. Being spoken to like this, hearing Lauren talk down to me, giving me strict orders, it made me wince, made my insides turn over, felt somehow off. I noticed my voice cracking as I responded, barely above a whisper.
"Yes, Lauren. I understand, Lauren."
"What was that?"
I spoke louder, more clearly. I hoped no one could hear me in any of these apartments.
"Yes, Lauren! I understand, Lauren."
"So take off your shoes and socks right now. On the landing. Socks go in your shoes, and AFTER you walk inside barefoot, you place them on the towel beside the door."
"Yes, Lauren." I knelt, untied each shoe, took each off, peeled off each sock, placed them inside the shoes, and stood. Lauren had opened the door, and I followed her inside. There was indeed an old brown towel beside the door, on which I placed my shoes. Lauren walked into the main room, clopping in her flip-flops as I followed barefoot, trying to figure out what it meant to step softly.
"So the movers already have the furniture arranged. You're going to bring everything else up. After you unload my car, I'll tell you where everything goes. Clear?"
"Yes, Lauren."
Down the stairs. Along the walk, concrete rough against my bare feet, to Lauren's car, retrieving a laundry basket full of supplies. Up the stairs, into Lauren's apartment, and setting it down. Again I made the barefoot trip to the car for a box of pots and pans. And again, feeling self-conscious, again obeying Laren so publicly, I swallowed and took a deep breath. This felt so right, but it was hard to adjust. I winced as a couple watched me carrying a heavy box barefoot across the concrete walk. Lauren had packed well. I didn't realize so much could fit into her little car. Finally, I brought up the last box, and placed it carefully on the floor.
"Now the fun starts!" With that, Lauren ordered me to carry the suitcase and the tub full of clothes into her room. Item by item, I was ordered to carefully re-fold each piece of her clothing, then place it in whichever droor, or on whichever hanger, she indicated. Every item of clothing, that is, except her bras and underwear. I wasn't allowed to touch those. I tensed, remembering that very first day serving Lauren, before I even knew that I was her slave, folding her laundry, all of her clothes except her intimate wear. I sighed, deeply.
I made Lauren's bed. I put her towels away. I put every pot, pan, and skillet where she told me to. Every utensil went in its place. Every decoration went where Lauren decided, then was moved when Lauren changed her mind. Most of the afternoon I served her, obeying every detailed command. Finally, the apartment was in order.
"Alright slave, it's time I look you over." We were in the main room, in front of the couch and coffee table as Lauren motioned me to face her. "Strip and kneel. Now."
"Yes, Lauren."
I removed each item of clothing, folding as I went. After I took off my boxers I shivered, again naked in front of Lauren, with the exception of the chastity device she had put on me at the end of the spring. With another deep breath, I knelt on the worn, faded hardwood, looking up at Lauren's face directly in front of mine.
"You need to work on kneeling more gracefully. Don't plop."
I blushed. "Yes, Lauren. I'll practice, Lauren."
Lauren took my chin in her hand possessively, just as she had that day in her apartment, the day I'd kissed her foot. I felt like I was going to melt. I'd needed this. Lauren smiled, just slightly, looking into my eyes.
"Have you disobeyed me at all over the summer? Even once? Is there anything you need to tell me, slave?"
I took a deep breath. It was almost hard to speak. I took another.
"No, Lauren. I have not disobeyed you. I've followed every instruction you gave me for the summer."
"Are you certain? Don't you dare lie to me, slave."
I thought, then thought again. I knew the answer, but I was doubting myself. "Yes, Lauren. I'm certain. I've been obedient since the last time I saw you."
Lauren held my chin a little tighter and smiled, a genuine smile. "Good BOY!"
