There is nothing quite like being understood. You know what I mean? Like, what’s more satisfying than that? It’s amazing when you can say something and use the vocabulary that you’re comfortable with and have another person start nodding along before you finished and they know exactly what version of each word your use means and in what context. There is none of the frustration or extra effort that’s needed when someone doesn’t already know that the income reported on an S-Corp tax return is not taxed on the corporate level but flows through to the share holders and is reported on a K-1 that gets attached to their Individual Income Tax Return’s Schedule E. Imagine NOT having to explain all that shit because the person your talking to not only understands it already but is staring right into your soul with hungry dominant eyes that make you start to forget the baggage that you carry around because life is complicated. She also thinks you’re a good girl. You know that because she told you.
And then you melt. I hate saying that I melt because it’s a lazy cliché, but fuck that’s what happens. You know, melting isn’t just relaxing either. Melting is a change in the state of matter. Please think about this. Don’t just skim. I know I’m wordy but bare with me. (or bear with me…I don’t know which is correct and I don’t have to look it up because my Mistress has a ‘strict teacher’ character who will handle that later, I’m sure…😊 ) Anyway, the state of matter is one of the most fundamental characteristics of EVERYTHING. That gets lost on us because we see ice melt from a solid to a liquid in our sweet tea every day. No fireworks. It’s just routine. But it’s not! It’s a big fucking deal. The water still has all the same molecules but they react to the universe in an entirely different way than they did before. The water that was once frozen and static and mindlessly just there doing the hard job of keeping your drink cold but not getting fulfillment from it is now something completely different. It melted. And now it’s a liquid. And no it’s dynamic. It can travel rapidly form here to there. It can explore tiny crevices. There’s a whole new world of possibilities now that did not exist.
Before it transformed.
She calls me a good girl and she see’s me all the way across the internet and she speaks my language and knows what I need and takes what I offer and it’s perfect and I melt.
I transform.
And I go from the blunt object accounting resource and expert authority on applying violence for defensive purposes to a new state of matter. A whole new world is suddenly there.
--------------
I’m in the heavy chains that she put me in. It’s now a standing order. I also call it a “house rule.” When I’m home, I’m ruled. Tee Hee. Sixty pounds of thick steel links draped and hanging from my body. I weigh 112 pounds (that’s back from the 101 I weighed when I was watching my Dad leave this world earlier in the year. Merry Christmas, almost, Dad). I love the weight of them. I love to reach for something and feel the wrist cuff hoist more and more length of chain as my arm extends and the resistance increase. I play a game where I try to ignore the weight like it isn’t there because I’m so dang strong, and sometimes it works, but sometimes, I have to reach out too far and there’s too much weight and I can’t hold my arm out. Then I laugh and feel so filled up inside because it’s my Mistress’s control that overpowered me. It’s a way she can be there when she isn’t. It’s a way I can belong to her. And it is real. It actually happens. It’s more than words. It’s even more than the words, “good girl” that melt me.
My ankles are chained closely together. Just four links between them. While I’m sleeping, this length is just right to allow me to being to shift or roll and then get stopped and have to make a more focused effort. It’s enough to bring me back to semi-consciousness and appreciate that I’m Mistress’s captive and then return right back to the spot in the dream I was just having without missing a beat. It also allows me to rub my thighs up and down against each other just enough to feel so good.
There is a shorter length of chain around my waist. It’s above my hips and it’s snug. I feel it when I inhale. It doesn’t interfere with breathing at all but it’s present. It’s a nice big of weight located right at my center of gravity and an important part of making me feel possessed. It also has a big shiny O-ring in the font that my ankle cuffs are tethered to. A nice long length of chain runs from one ankle cuff up through the O-Ring and back down to the other ankle. When I’m standing, this is just a way to carry the weight of the chains and perceive my submission. While laying in bed, as I am, it allows the cool, hard texture of the steel to slide upon and in between my legs as I move under my covers. It’s not just bunched up down at the foot of the bed. The chain moves as I move. It is part of me, in a way.
My wrist cuffs are also chained closely together. The links pass through the O-ring in my collar. I had been wearing a steel collar for my shower but switched to a more forgiving leather collar to sleep in. I forgot to ask permission from Mistress for this adjustment and she is learning about it right this moment reading this. I hope I wasn’t bad for doing so. I’m sure she’ll let me know. LOL. Mistress seems to prefer my hands confined high away from my privates at night. She prefers me not to cum without permission. I’m not actually sure that this is a house rule yet. But it’s a trend. Regardless, Mistress wants me to be successful so she helps me with her direction by locking my skilled fingers up high where I can’t use them to part the engorged lips below to find the thick slick juices forming inside or to pinch and tease and rub my needing clit or even to gently work my nipples into harder erect points than they already are.
At least not yet. I can have my hands back in the morning. 😊
--------------------
It’s cold, which is exactly how I like to sleep. But I’m a sweating mess tangled in my sheets. I am to edge myself to the point of climax as much as possible without going over and cumming. This is a delicate operation with fingers in play, but it’s a fumbling cluster with less precise tools available. The friction between my thighs is luxurious. I love the feeling of my firm, freshly shaven legs gliding up and down and pressing into each other. Muscle feels so fucking sensual. There is a soft outer layer that gives as you press into it until you reach the dense tissue that pushes back with satisfying texture. And there is warmth that comforts and excites. But however fast or hard I press and work my legs, as fabulous as the sensations are, I cannot access my aroused sex. I even try to press down onto the dangling lengths of chain but to no avail. I realize too late that I should have placed a pillow, or pillows, down there before I locked my hand up high. Now I’m struggling to toss them with only “wrist flicking” motions from my head down to my waist where they’re needed. But first I have to push the sheets down which is a trying process with my ankles hobbled as they are.
You’re designs are deliciously frustrating Mistress and you’re working me up into a crazed horny state. You should hear me grunting in effort and moaning as I occasionally find a good spot. And cussing. I cuss a lot when nobody else is around. And when I write. Lol.
I finally get the sheet off my body. It’s going to suck trying to get covered again, but that’s a problem for later. Right now I’m just needing to hump my pillow. I attempt another wrist flick and it makes it down to my stomach. I make a few attempts to bounce it down with hip thrusts but it slides off my body and onto the ground. I flick again but hard and it land at my knees. Yes! I can work with that. I roll over onto my stomach and left my hips up. I drag my knees up the bed, pulling the pillow up with them. All the while I’m balancing my upper body on my elbows. Fun discovery. In this position, my tits are just contacting the bed and the sheet is just course enough to stimulate my nipples. I squeeze my eyes tight and freeze from the waist down as I sway my breasts from side to side so my nipples can feel the soft friction. I probably can’t hold this plank position while I hump the pillow.
But I’m sure as fuck going to try.
-------------------
I’ve been at it for over an hour. I have the pillow wedged in the right spot. I’m squeezing it between my thighs so it can’t get misplaced. Over and over, I bump up and down for as long as I can. Over and over, I feel the building ecstasy. I feel it taking over my thoughts. I’m gasping. Nearly moaning. I want so badly to disobey and take this orgasm that’s been forbidden. But just in time, I roll to my side and go fetal and shake and tremble and fight down the excitement. It’s a challenge. Between the chains and the cold air and the conversation I had enjoyed earlier with Mistress Julanni and Mistress Ella, I am in an intense submissive headspace where thinking simply is not a possibility. I am out of control. However, Mistress is still in control. Her words are still present just like the chains against my body. I am her instrument. And she wants me to edge myself.
I get back to being her good girl. This goes on most of the night, and I do not cum.
----------------
I wake up glowing. I haven’t forgotten anything. It’s all right there. I scroll through the images of my memory like pictures on my phone. They make me laugh. They make me cringe. Some of them turn me on. How the fuck can I still be horny?
There on its hook is the key to my chains. With slow deliberation, I take the key and free my hands. I go ahead and unlock all of my restraints except for my collar. The collar stay. I pull the covers neatly up over me all the way to my chin. I lay on my back and slide my feet up toward my seat. Under the covers, I’m fully exposed. The first stroke of my finger causes shivers. My sensitivity is still turned all the way up from overnight. And that’s prefect. Reaching climax is going to be easy. But I make it slow. I savor the sensation as I go. I know today I’ll have to return to my real life and become the girl that handles complex problems and specific instructions that come with uncompromising expectations. But I’m still with my Mistress and we’re on the right side of my climax. I’m the submissive good girl that she understand and awakens and permits me to embody. I’m simply hers. And this orgasm, this glorious, crashing, screaming, validating orgasmic experience is for her and because of her in every possible way.
Because she transformed me. She always transforms me. I love you Mistress.
(This was of course at the direction of my Mistress @Julanni and under the expert guidance of my Mistress @ShibariElla )