Watery Eyes

I want to give special shout-out to PaddlerNW, who edited this story. Thank you for your patience and guidance. It has not gone unnoticed.

**PLEASE comment, vote and/or send a message—it keeps me motivated to write!**

ENJOY!

Sit, relax and eat something healthy? My eyebrows shot up and I glanced at the clock—only 4:00. Sure, I read over the entire list this morning, but I did not think that I would have a full 30 minutes to relax before Liam came home. With the lined list in my hand, I gave my daily chores a second glance to double check everything was complete. Since 7:30, I've been going nonstop — my normal cleaning routine, shopping, picking up the dry cleaning, prepping his steak dinner, disinfecting the toys, and more. My feet hurt, my wrists tingled from scrubbing, and my back felt stiff. I smiled as I set the list down on the immaculate granite countertop and walked to the refrigerator. I wasn't terribly hungry, but he controls my eating, so eat a snack I must.

I stood in front of the refrigerator, door open, with my hand on my hip. I bit my lip as I thought what would pick for me. After several seconds, I grabbed a yogurt.

I leaned over the dining room table with a smile and read the paper while eating yogurt. The corner room of the house, the dining room gave me a clear view of the kitchen and living room. Pride and gratitude filled me. Pride that all my tasks were finished; gratitude that he cares enough to keep me busy. I took a deep breath as I recalled my service to Liam and the changes in me since I first met him.

Sure, the house would have looked as clean six months ago, but the drawers would have been messy and under the sofa? Filthy. He inspires, and frankly demands, me to want the best for our home so I can take pride in what I do, knowing that every item has a place with not a speck of dirt or dust seen.

A warm glow radiated throughout my body. Unconsciously my hand wandered to my collar, given to me a few months ago. A thin silver chain with a tiny butterfly— the absence of a clasp makes taking the collar off a permanent decision. While there have been several difficult times in our relationship, not once had I considered removing it.

As I continued to think of him, the warm glow turned to a tingling sensation as I became physically more aware of my body. My arched back pushed out my full round ass. The Pilates he has me do every morning really accentuates specific areas. My tight jeans stretched over my backside and around my well-developed thighs motivated me to shift from side to side as I felt the material stretch against my skin.

I heard a rustle. Huh? I jumped to my feet and quickly scanned the room with the yogurt- covered spoon still in my mouth.

Warmth rushed to my cheeks and my heart beat faster.

I cannot believe I was in my own head so much I did not hear him come home from work early. I should have relaxed on the couch. I would have seen him and been ready. Next time relax by the couch.

Mental note filed.

Smile. It is ok. He is 25 minutes early. This never happens. Ok, he is smiling. All is ok. Breathe.

I smiled at him, took the spoon from between my lips, and set it on the table next to the yogurt and paper.

I stood up straight, feet together, and lowered myself to the floor. The slow and steady descent resulted in my feet tucked out of sight underneath my ass with knees widespread at a perfect 90°angle—the first of his lessons. The perfection-induced repetition he had me do in the initial months toned my legs and allowed a graceful and seamless decline.

Though my head was down and eyes closed, I sensed him standing idly in the doorway. "Sir, is everything OK?" I asked with some hesitation.

"Yes," he answered, "just happy to be home." My closed eyes heighten my attention to focus on sounds as I heard his familiar cadence approach me. His lips touched my forehead and lingered. I felt him smile. My skin started to tingle and I struggled not to squirm underneath him with excitement. His large hand cupped my chin and guided me to stand before him.

He set his leather briefcase on the table, "How was your day, Juliana?" As he said this I followed his gaze to the center of the table where he had set a beautiful vase of tulips—my favorite.

I squeezed him tight with excitement. My arms wrapped around his neck and my lips covered his in appreciation.

He chuckled, "Good then, I presume?"

As I let him go I brushed my fingertips against the soft petals, I replied, "Yes, Sir. A great day, and all the better now that you are home. Thank you for the flowers. You were very thoughtful to have gotten them for me, Sir."

I resumed finishing the last of the yogurt while I recalled the day's tasks, phone calls for him, cost of the dry cleaners, etc. No longer making eye contact, I sensed his distraction and followed his gaze only to realize he was staring at my chest. His feet shuffled as he widened his stance by a few inches. I noticed his bulge, clearly outlined by the tightness of the thin dress pants, and my cheeks immediately reddened.

His gaze moved from my chest to my plump lips. I licked my lips, smiled, and shifted in his direction with eyebrows slightly raised. I paused and waited for his comments, hoping for approval of how I spent my day.

"You are such a good girl," he said as he leaned down a few inches to kiss me. "That was a long list, and I am impressed you finished everything." His hand brushed against my long fingers.

My smile widened. He seemed especially relaxed and informal today—he came home early, I did not stay kneeling as long as I usually do, and then the flowers. Thinking that I would match his casual attitude, I asked, "Sir, may I sit?"

"No, but you may kneel beside me," he answered as he pulled out the chair next to me and took a seat. The corners of my mouth pointed downward slightly as I felt a ping of disappointment. After such a long day of scrubbing and cooking I hoped to earn a seat at the table tonight.

As he moved, I risked another glance at his bulge. If I guessed, I would say that he was about half hard. Immediately I looked to the ground to hide the smirk on my face, knowing that I would get him to throbbing sooner rather than later. Once settled, he pointed to the floor beside him and I saw him watch me as I lowered myself. My smirk disappeared quickly as my disappointment returned.

I let out an inaudible sigh, adjusted my feet under my curved ass, and spread my knees into a wide V position. Behind my back I folded my hands and dropped my head. My disappointment in not sitting turned to a feeling of warmth and comfort as a smile returned and my muscle memory locked me into position. The warmth spread over the next several minutes and I felt wetness and heat between my legs. The pleasure the movement would bring given my snug jeans tempted me, but I fought the urge to move back and forth. Discipline and stillness are very important to him.

Interrupting the silence, he took a deep breath, shuffled a bit, and moved his feet wider apart. I smiled. Maybe m

y sweet scent hardened his cock more. After sensing him smiling down at me, I felt him stroke my hair before he returned his attention to the business section of the newspaper.

That was my cue.

I quickly got up and finished the steak meal I prepped earlier this afternoon, per my list. After about 30 minutes, I returned to the table, set a plate in front of him, and resumed my position kneeling beside him.

I bit my lip in anticipation as he took his first bite.

"Sir, tomorrow can I..." I began to ask, tilting my head up to look at him with half a smile. I saw his face and stopped mid-sentence, knowing that I made a mistake.

Slowly he put his fork and steak knife down as he frowned.

Shit, I should know better. Last week this happened when I was too informal. How can I forget? I called him Liam when I was angry with a decision he made and what did he do? For 48 hours he did not touch me.

I felt pressure build behind my eyes as I remembered how my body ached and screamed as I watched him get off in front of me. Repeatedly, I watched him jerk off, cum wasted on a tissue and thrown in the trash while I sat, hands tied behind my back, forced to watch, yet unable to service him.

A lump slid down my throat and I gulped as I refocused on the present. I watched him slowly turn his head from staring straight ahead to locking eyes with me. Immediately every muscle in my body froze and I dared not peel my eyes from his piercing stare as he looked down at me.

As soon as I saw his full glare, my eyes started to well. I immediately looked to the ground, hiding my watery eyes from him as to not have him be further disappointed. I softly said, "No talking to Master during meals."

My heart raced.

Stupid, I am so fucking stupid.

I wanted so badly for today to be perfect and then I go and speak of out of turn. Yes, yes this is a small digression, not like the one last week, but all I want is to cry. Ok, I need to pull myself together, ignore the growing pit in my stomach, the lump creeping steadily up my throat, and breathe.

"Correct," he said with perfect pronunciation.

My self-talk did nothing to help me gain control of my emotions and body. The single word, spoken with a sharpness that stung me, caused my eyes to start to well up as I fought back tears. Even though the room was silent I heard the sternness of his voice replay over and over in my head. One word and I felt like I was about to fall apart.

Just as I took a deep breath to try to re-center myself, I heard him clear his throat. Immediately all of my muscles tensed and the pounding in my chest returned. Though I was looking down, out of the corner of my eye I saw him lean over in front of me and point to the ground. He did not need to say a word—his silence spoke loud enough.

Urgently, I moved from kneeling to the punishment position.

Though tempted, I did not make eye contact with him as I stood, undid my jeans, and pushed them down over my hips and thighs. I stepped out of them and folded my jeans neatly on the table. Getting back down on the floor, I positioned myself with my calves stretched across the dark wood, the soles of my feet up, and legs spread. My arms stretched out in front of me with my head tucked between them, chin to floor. The palms of my hands lay flat on the floor. My knees bent at a perfect right angle but wide apart, caused my ass cheeks to sprea. I felt a breeze as the fan blew air against my asshole—usually a pleasant feeling as I am an anal slut, but my self-induced disappointment blocked any pleasure.

So few words! He is upset!

Silence and lack of touch are the most severe forms of punishment. I'm left alone in my own thoughts and feelings of disappointment and fear that I will never be worthy.

He left the table and I sat there even more perplexed—perplexed and worried.

His punishments are getting increasingly creative lately.

I resisted the urge to relax my muscles in his absence and stayed firm. He came back, sat, put something long on the table, and resumed eating.

What did he get? It sounded heavy when he set it down. Not a flogger or whip—it sounded solid with a clink. Maybe it was a cane of sorts? No, it did not sound that long when he set it down.

I continued to run through the options in my head, trying to think of all of the toys and objects he used on me in the past. Then it clicked...glass. He never used it on me before, but I had washed it several times. At 12 inches long and about a 2-finger width, the blue glass dildo featured a ball on the end, presumably a handle, which disproportionately weighted that end.

I could not help it, but my pussy started to get wet and my breathing quickened. The crinkling of the condom wrapper let me know his intentions. Moments later he pushed the first two inches into my ass.

I bit my lip to resist moaning.

"Do not let it fall," he instructed.

Usually we talked during dinner, at his initiation, but this one was finished in silence.

Liam ate slowly and continued reading the paper. I needed the silence to concentrate. From cleaning the dildo, I recalled the wicked spiral, but I neglected to notice the heaviness of the weighted end. Though it was not the longest toy in the collection, the weighted end combined with the shallow penetration meant I needed to clench my ass constantly to keep it steady.

I listened for clues to his being done, but each time he set down his fork he reached down, inserted the blue glass further, and resumed eating and reading the paper.

The pleasure from my ass being slowly filled and needing to clench my muscles tight against the cold rod could not be ignored. I loved my ass being filled too much. But any bodily pleasure was wrapped in guilt and disappointment from my mistake. Guilty pleasure brought me just that, guilt.

After the third time my lip started to ache as I continued to bite it to keep from moaning.

Such a slut. He is punishing me and yet I cannot control my pussy. I am sure he can smell the fragrance of my juices.

As I have this internal dialogue he pushes the dildo in further, a good half of it inside of me now. As he turned the circular handle slowly, I fought back moans, squeezing my eyes shut as the spiral dildo drilled inside me.

Officially an ass slut.

I heard him set his knife and fork down, pull his napkin from his lap to set on the table, and pivot his chair towards me. Finally, I hoped this was it. He turned towards me and stroked my hair. Pangs of guilt and self-flagellation followed each of his delicate strokes. He knows me well enough to know the effect his tenderness has on me when I am disappointed with myself.

"I do not enjoy doing that, Juliana. It was a small mistake but a very important one" he clarified.

"I know you know better than to initiate conversation while I am eating," he paused—seeming to wait for something I gave a slight nod of the head and he continued.

"Yes, sometimes we are less formal, but you will remember the basics—or else we will have go back to the strictness we started with to remind you," he said.

After a charged pause, "Do you understand Juliana?"

"Yes Sir," I softly replied without any hesitation.

Without warning he quickly pulled the dildo from my ass. I felt both relief and frustration. Though only a small gaping hole, the emptiness of my ass saddened me and the quick movement only made my pussy wetter.

"Then you may stand and get dressed," he said.

I dressed and dried my eyes, hoped they were not too red and puffy, before I turned and stood in front of him. He took my hands in his and I smiled instantaneously.

"The meal was perfect," he said as he got up and kissed my cheek. "I can tell you took great care. Thank you, Ana."

I smiled grinned at the reassurance. He called me Ana. It sounds simple, I know, but with the shortened affectionate version of my name I felt his love and care for me. One word reassures me he is not mad. My heart slowed and I felt the comfort from his words and body language wash over me.

"Now," he said, "was there something that you needed?"

"Sir, I want to offer to help you at work tomorrow," I say, my tone soft and meek. "All of Friday's tasks are already done and I would love to go into the city to help you if I can."

His hand cupped my chin and guided my face up to his as he gave me a small kiss. The coral colored low-cut tank top allowed a nice inch and a half of cleavage to show and I saw his eyes looking back down. Silently I hoped he'd take me to work so I could get out of the house and show myself off. Representing him in front of others, showing my obedience and submission — the mere thought made me wet.

He took a deep breath, "Despite your slipup earlier," he paused briefly, "you can come to work tomorrow. I have a few colleagues coming in and I think you would be helpful."

I jumped up and wrapped my arms tightly around him. Pressing my full lips to his cheeks, he chuckled and finished by saying, "Let us go and make sure you have something professional to wear."

I squeezed him extra tight, hoping that he felt my hard nipples through the thin lace bra and cotton tank top he picked out for me this morning. I giggled as I sensed he was trying to do the same with his hardening cock His arms lowered around my waist and his hands clasped behind me to give me a big squeeze. His hardening cock pressed against me through his tight trousers and I gasped.

Though he does not generally enjoy punishing me, it is clearly not a turn-off for him.

We walked into our bedroom and he gestured to me to look through my closet. I smiled and went to my closet like a kid in the candy store. He had picked out my clothes for months, so this was a real treat.

Liam grants this privilege directly after a punishment, but his chastisements are over and done, then things return to normal.

"Well, I know I have a pencil skirt in here somewhere Sir," I said as he sat on the bed. I sensed him smiling and rotating my round ass in his face. I bit my full bottom lip as I moved back and forth perusing the closet.

"There it is. My black pencil skirt. What about this top?" I asked as I turned and held the skirt up in front of me.

Initially I looked into his eyes, but the sight of his stiffening cock pressed against his trousers drew my eyes.

"I do not know. What is that little hole in the front? I think it might show too much and believe me, I do not want anyone looking at you," he said with a smirk on his face.

My cheeks warmed and reddened. I knew that smirk. He loves showing me off, and I love to be seen. Some of our recent conversations about sharing me ran through my brain and I could not but help squeeze my thighs together and shift, feeling and smelling the wetness from before growing. Even though I continued to talk, my thoughts lingered on the other Masters he mentioned weeks ago.

"Sir, it is really professional, I promise," I said as my eyes widened and I stuck out my lower lip, pretending to pout, "It is one of my favorites and I have not been able to wear it for so long." I walked a fine line with my plea, but his expression was still positive, so I must have walked it just right.

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at my words, my fake pouting hadn't taken him in. Darn, I have to do more. Determined to make his jeans even tighter, I grabbed the bottom of my low-cut tank top and inched my way out of the shirt. His eyes followed the shirt's hem from the start of my stomach as it moved up to show my ample breasts and erect nipples beneath the thin red lace. Up over my head and onto the floor behind me went my coral top. I unbuttoned my pants, pulled down the zipper, and slid my tight jeans down over my hips as I wiggled out. My wet tight panties framed my lips .

For a split second I saw the pleasant surprise in his eyes as if he had forgotten the lingerie he chose that morning. With my large breasts, a push-up bra is overkill. He loves the natural look and put me in thin lace, displaying my breasts natural curve and fullness. Stiff nipples pushed the material out another quarter inch.

"Is everything Ok Sir?" I teased.

"Yes, of course. I just forgot I choose that bra for you today and I am enjoying the view," he said with a smile and wink. I could not help but glance down in anticipation and saw his cock tightly pressed against his jeans. He was completely hard.

My heart beat fast, not from anxiety like before, but from excitement and hope that he might allow me to finish what I started. I smiled and slipped the blouse on. Confident it hugged in all of the right places with the little keyhole opening in the front hinting at my cleavage, I tilted my head, bit my lip, and shifted my weight from to one side, right knee just a bit accenting all of my curves, as I waited for a response as to its acceptability.