Eventually, after I'd stopped pouting, He told me to crawl to Him. He was holding an unwrapped truffle just above His knee. When I got to Him on hands and knees, He
fed me a truffle like you would feed a dog a treat. And I lavished it like the
dog, taking it from His fingers ever so gently with my teeth, then biting into
it and sucking on the sweet inside.

Saturday Master and I went shopping and spent the last of
our time off together. Dad went home early Saturday morning and called us when
he was almost home. All in all it was a nice visit. Dad always insists on
paying for everything. Meals, anything bought. I mean… he even bought my
tampons. Master's slowly getting used to it. He hates it though.

I got in trouble for not paying attention to His cues. There
were things we needed at WalMart and I didn't realize that Master really didn't
want to go to WalMart right then. Friday we all went to the mall and Dad asked
if there was anything specific we needed or wanted. I started listing off the
reasons I had for going to the mall – new shoes, a haircut, etc. Master didn't
want to do either, which was fine. But Dad pushed me into the shoe store. I'm
no good at getting out of those situations without making someone look like an
idiot. So we both got new shoes.

Yesterday, I worked 6-2 to cover a shift they couldn't find
someone to cover while T is out of town. When I got home, Master clamped my
nipples with the clover clamps. Can you say â??Owie!â?? I knew you could.

Now, I donâ??t know about the rest of you, but I have a
love/hate relationship with nipple clamping. Some days it feels sooo good, just
the right amount of pinching and the chainâ??s weight swinging feeling oh so
nice. And other days, my pussyâ??s drenched but all I want to do is swear like a
sailor. Yesterday was an â??Oh my fucking god get those fucking things as far the
fuck away from me as you fucking can please-and-thank-you.â? day. Thatâ??s not to
say, however, that I wasnâ??t puddling every time He picked the chain up and
lifted my tits by way of squashed nipple flesh. My pussy was soaked.

I cried. From nipple clamps. I donâ??t do that very often. Yesterday
it felt like He was ripping my nipples off with every shift in weight. And my
stupid, traitorous nipples are barely even red.

After lunch He locked the chains to my collar and pushed my
head to His feet. I cried over that too. Thereâ??s a way to pull a girlâ??s hair
where it feels like the top of her head is about to pop off. Heâ??s good at it.
And my pussy got wetter.

Have I mentioned Iâ??m unfuckable, yet? Iâ??ll mention it now.
Iâ??m unfuckable. Master doesnâ??t fuck my cunt when Iâ??m on the rag. Itâ??s messy and
less than appealing and besides Iâ??ve got two other holes so as long as His
cockâ??s taken care of who cares? Back to the sceneâ?¦ sorry. I do not have ADD!

I licked at His feet while He played a game on His computer.
I remember trying to hold myself so that my nipples wouldnâ??t graze the carpet.
After a while of licking, Master told me to kneel. I pushed back and knelt up
into nadu
to wait for Him. When He returned, Iâ??m sure my eyes widened. He was carrying
the zipper and all I could envision was a clothespin on each already sore
nipple being yanked off.

â??Be as quiet as you can, cunt.â?

â??Yes, Master.â?

And I felt the kiss of the kangaroo flogger. â??Oh, piece of
cake.� I thought. I was wrong. He blindfolded me remarking that I could use my
tongue without my eyes. As I sucked and kissed at His thighs and calves and
feet, my hands snaking out before me a few times to familiarize myself with where
I was and where I needed to be, He whipped me with the flogger just so and it
would sting like road rash. He told me to kneel and hold my tits up for Him.
First, another set of clamps went on my nipples. I moaned and then whimpered as
He began to clip each clothespin of the zipper to my tender tit meat.

â??This is gonna hurt.â? He said, in the cutest sing-song voice
that almost made me want to giggle. That is, until He yanked them off. I yelped
softly and He asked â??Did that hurt bitch?â?

He continued to whip me as I sucked His cock and I tried to
sense some pattern to the strokes so I could brace myself for them Masterâ??s
good at making sure thereâ??s no pattern. Each stroke caught me completely by
surprise, some even causing me to jump out of my skin.

Eventually, He yanked the clamps off my nipples without
opening them. That was enough to make everything stop. I jerked backwards,
cupped my nipples in my hands and started to cry again. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face back to His thigh. â??Donâ??t stop licking, whore.â?

Later He blew His load all over my face and I did my best
to avoid getting it on the leather blindfold. Then He told me to back up and
asked me if I wanted to touch my button. I nodded vigorously and He told me to
cum. While I diddled away, Master flogged the front of me: tits, legs, stomachâ?¦
He even caught my pussy lips a time or two. Finally I exploded all over my
fingers and the rug. It was almost as good as cumming while being fucked. I
loved it. And I felt so incredibly dirty and humble sitting there with my
thighs splayed and my fingers in my cunt working furiously at my clit while cum
dripped off my nose onto my tits. Cumming for His pleasure, not my own, though
I obviously got a great deal of pleasure out of it.

Throughout the day, He insisted on verbal responses. Often
He asks me questions and Iâ??m torn between answers. Either the real answer and
the one I know He wants to hear or the real answer and the one thatâ??s least
embarrassing, etc. Generally speaking, I sit and stare at Him until I decide
which one to give or He stops asking. He was having none of that yesterday.
Verbal, immediate responses were all He was accepting. More than one question
was followed by â??Answer me cunt.â? And when I nodded my head He would lift His
hand as if to slap me and Iâ??d force a â??Yes, Master!â? from my lips.

Heâ??s begun refusing me things. Not big things. Little
things. Like Lindor Truffles. I asked for a piece of chocolate and He told me
no. Then proceeded to eat them Himself. I thought it was a game at first and
play-pouting would get my way. But when Iâ??d pouted for ten minutes and still hadnâ??t
been allowed a chocolate, I realized He was serious and my pout became real.

Eventually, after I'd stopped pouting, He told me to crawl to Him. He was holding an unwrapped truffle just above His knee. When I got to Him on hands and knees, He
fed me a truffle like you would feed a dog a treat. And I lavished it like the
dog, taking it from His fingers ever so gently with my teeth, then biting into
it and sucking on the sweet inside.

Yesterday was rather ceremonial. Every time He went to
retrieve something or go to the bathroom or whatever, I was made to kneel and
wait for Him. I was kept on the chain until He decided to go watch TV. We need
a chain in the living room, I think. He says itâ??s to remind me that Iâ??m an
animal. And it does. Iâ??ve never felt less human than when locked to that chain.
It also reminds me that Iâ??m owned. And with that comes all the emotions of
knowing my every move is watched and carefully monitored.

At the same time, though, it felt so natural. Like Iâ??ve worn
a chain all my life. That probably means something. Something thatâ??s flitting
too far away from the surface for me to grasp.

With every passing day I feel more and more like a slave and
less and less like Iâ??m playing at it. And Iâ??m enjoying it. I loved being played
with like so many toys. I loved being chained like an animal. And the weight of
the chain – because believe me, itâ??s heavy! – pulling at my collar and leaving
me feeling like I shouldnâ??t breathe without permission, let alone move from
where Iâ??ve been putâ?¦

The first day I told Master it was too much. It made me too
horny. I couldnâ??t think. I couldnâ??t breathe. I could only sit there and feel my
clit twitch relentlessly and the blanket beneath my bare pussy slowly drench
from my dribbling lips. The second day was the same reaction, but I was
comfortable in my slutty reaction. I used to always be comfortable with my
slutty reaction to things. I wonder what happened? Iâ??ll get there again,
though, if Master continues down this path. I hope He does. I think itâ??s a very
good path to be on.