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I told her to meet Me Saturday. Two weekends ago. Outside the GPO on O'Connell Street at 17:30. Sent her an email at 17:40. Told her to go to bathroom in the McDonalds in Grafton Street, take off her knickers, put them in her pocket and then email Me when she had obeyed.
Then I told her to hurry and go to the18:30Mass in Westland Row. And she was not to be late. When she got a seat she was to email Me where she was sitting - 5th last row on the right, 3rd person in. Whatever. The idea of her sitting in a church - with no knickers - obviously appealed to Me. Obviously, dripping with excited anticipation.
After Mass I sent her an email telling her to go home. No explanation. Just a command. No mind games. Jut an order. No complaints. Just obedience. At this stage, I had not even seen what she looked like. I was miles from the city centre.
The following Saturday - last weekend - I sent her an email. To be in the same seat at the same Mass. This time I was also in the Church. The thing I liked was that not once during the Mass did she look around in an attempt to see if she could recognise who was pulling her strings.
I left Mass after the Communion. Told her to go to the Starbucks on Stephen's Green and order two teas. Did not ask if she drank tea or coffee. Was not relevant. And leave the receipt on the table for Me.
I had to buy a magazine in the newsagent at the top of Grafton Street. Then I went to Starbucks and sat down beside her. I took up the receipt and gave her the money for the tea. I was impressed that she had left the teas untouched and unmilked. She had been given no instructions as to what she should do with the teas - so she correctly did nothing. I sat there and read my magazine. She never - that I could see - raised her eyes.
After 20 minutes or so, I put down the magazine and typed her an email. I told her to take the week and decide if this was the life she wanted. She was not to rush this decision because it would be the last decision she would have to make for herself.
If this was what she wanted, I told her to tell Me. I would then - for the sake of her safety - email her a copy of My passport. She was to mail that to somebody whom she could trust. So she could trust Me.
Then I wanted her to send Me her home address. And email Me from then on when she wanted permission to leave. And to let Me know when she returned. And I would show up if it pleased Me to.
During work the next week, I extended this so that she was to email Me for permission when she wanted to use the bathroom. On one such occasion I also told her to send Me a video of her coming out.
I'm going to visit her on Friday. Or maybe Saturday. I told her to get a key cut for Me. And to buy a collar for herself.
And leave the receipt on the table for Me.
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Master will, for the moment, accept Its bona fides, and talk to It as if an equal (just for the purpose of getting to know each other – do not, however, think that Master makes a habit of explaining / discussing Himself). Master was not always so inclined. He had a very normal childhood. Due to the way were then educated, He did not really have interaction with females until university. In late1980s / early 1990s Ireland, women were very conservative when it came to sex. This meant that the minority of women who were sexually active could be very particular. This upset the natural order of things. This all changed, of course, with the enlargement of the European Union, when Ireland was mercifully flooded with European women who were – as far as we Irish men were concerned – prettier and more sexually liberated.
Before the arrival of the Europeans, Master had his heart broken by such an Irish woman. Master consoled Himself with alcohol for years During these Wasted Years, Master took a Spanish lover and although neither of us realised it at the time, this was a Master / Slave relationship. Master recalls that the first time He fucked the Spaniard, after He came in Its cunt, It looked him tenderly in the eye and simply said ‘Thank You’.
This respectful gratitude blew me away. Master soon found out that His Spanish was bulimic. Every time It purged, It would tell Master and Master would use the cane on It and not stop until Its buttocks were almost bleeding. And It would then hold onto Master as we then slept. Unfortunately, Master was drinking very heavy back then and was needlessly indifferent to the Spaniard and He left her one day and never returned.
But Master has never since been able to have a vanilla relationship since, Any questions?
[if254 1]
Mijn Ideale Persoon:
A winner in life. A success in your career. But lonely. Lost. Holding yourself as you fall asleep.
Typical day: We were out in a bar or a restaurant. With some friends of mine - you won't have friends of your own over here. When we are outside the house I allow you the freedom to appear ordinary (my word for 'vanilla') but you always sit beside me, holding my hand or snuggling into me, in a subtle recognition of your devotion. Nobody but me knows that I prefer you not to wear panties - weather and menstruation permitting. Whatever happened, you did something that really annoyed me. I said nothing. Not even when we were alone in the car returning home. When we got home, as soon as the front door was closed I told you to get the cane. Without another word, you gave me to cane and assumed the position over my desk. I struck your buttocks only twice - but sufficiently hard to leave two long red marks, I removed your clothes and, having put you in the bath, urinated all over your face. I then buggered you. I told you to have a shower and go to bed. You were not to sleep in my bed but on the small mattress I have on the floor beside my bed for such occasions. I watched a movie on my own downstairs and then went to bed. You were not sleeping when I went to bed. I read something on the Kindle for 30 minutes then told you to get into bed, You instantly jumped and rushed into my arms, alternating between kissing me and apologising for whatever you had done. And, as a treat, I made you come by 69. You fell asleep on my chest, your hair tightly gripped in my right hand to show you - even in your sleep - that you're my possession.
And I never told you what it was you did that annoyed me.
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