Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

Workshop Pet

He handed me his empty coffee cup and got up from the table. I walked over to the sink to rinse it before putting it in the dishwasher. He stepped out of the kitchen and came back a few seconds later with my green leash. I was pretty sure I squealed with excitement as I ran over to him.

“Would you like to come to the shop with me for awhile pet?”

“Yes please, Sir.”

“You promise to be good and stay on your bed for me?”

“Yes, Sir.” I put my on my best innocent face and smiled sweetly. The last thing I wanted was to be left in the house alone.

“Good girl.” Click. The leash snapped onto my collar and I fell in step behind him as we headed out the back door.

The walk across the backyard to the workshop was quick. Sir had gone to the hardware store earlier in the week, so I knew he would be itching to get to work. I had hoped he would allow me to come and watch. As we approached the door to the shop I bent down and got on all fours. Sir likes that I have chosen to honor the workshop by always crawling as I enter. In fact, aside from one sexy interlude where I was thrown over a work bench, I was always on my knees or lower in the building.

Sir turned and smiled at me as he opened the door and I crawled in. The workshop was a remodeled three car garage. Sir had put a lot of work into making it meet his needs. Now there was room for all his equipment, his materials, and finished work that was ready to sell. Sir walked over and clipped the leash to the ring he had added to the side of his work bench. I nuzzled his leg as I moved onto my bed underneath his design desk.

There were two big tables at the ‘work’ end of the shop. One for design and detail work and one for this lathe and saws. When he first started allowing me to come out with him he bought me a bed to sit in. This was to be sure I stayed safe and not get underfoot. It also allowed for me to be able to give foot massages and other ‘services’ while he drew plans or did bookkeeping. The bed was made of soft minky material and I even had a blanket that stayed in the shop. He had also built a little shelf for a few toys and books so I didn’t feel ignored while he was working.

Sir walked away from the desk to grab some wood samples and paper. I sat cross-legged on my bed and enjoyed just watching him focus on his work. He soon sat on the stool directly in front of me and began to draw. The radio was tuned to the local rock station and it was all I could not to sing a long. I gave Sir’s pants two small tugs. The music volume lowered.

“Yes, pet?”

“May I service you while you work?” I watched the bulge in his pants twitch as he considered my request.

“You may, but I have to do some machine work in a bit, so when I say stop you must not pout.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

I reached for the button holding his jeans. He scooted forward on the stool so that I could release his cock and remain under the desk. My request must have pleased him as he was throbbing as I greedily took his cock from his jeans and began licking and kissing him. The smell of him mixed with the smell of shop was such a turn on for me. I took him deep in my throat and he moaned over the music. I wanted to take my time and savor him, but I also knew that this, while pleasant, was distracting him from his work. So while I massaged and licked him, I also took him deep and tried to push him toward orgasm.

I wanted him to cum. To hear his moans as I helped him find release. He didn’t always let me do this when I came out here, so I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. I continued my pace as his left hand reached under the desk to push my head further on his cock. His grip on my hair tightened as his muscles began tiny thrusts into my mouth. I ran my tongue under his shaft and licked down to his balls. He groaned and with two hard thrusts emptied himself down my throat.

Holding my mouth still over his cock I rolled my tongue around him as he continued to twitch. I could feel his cum sliding slowly down my throat. We sighed in unison as he pulled out of my mouth and zipped his jeans back up.

“Good girl. Thank you for your service pet.”

“The pleasure is mine, Sir.”

“Are you going to take a nap, or can I turn the music back up?”

“I left one of my Judy Blume books out here, so I think I will read. Please feel free to listen to whatever pleases you. Thank you for asking.”

“Good girl.” He reached down and caressed my cheek as I settled down in my bed to read. The music turned up. Fat Bottomed Girls made me smile as I rubbed Sir’s leg one last time before curling up and enjoying his presence for the afternoon.

Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Brownie Points

Rye had a bit of a rough morning. I had given her a straight-forward task to perform while I was in the shower. Stand on tip-toe while holding my towel at arms’ length, raising it slightly higher toward the ceiling every time she lost her balance. She was doing well, with her arms almost reaching the ceiling as I finished in the shower. As I was finishing myself up – and honestly taking my time – she safe-worded out of the exercise; I later learned that her ankle was giving out and she was at risk of falling over. I climbed out of the shower and asked if the task was more painful than it seemed at first. My question was met with a wall of defenses; redirection, incredulity, anger, and more besides. I was taken off guard and it took me a moment to gather myself.

A lot went through my head at that moment. We switched places and she climbed into the shower while I started to dry off. She was holding herself in her arms and sobbing huge, silent tears into the corner of the shower, busily tearing herself to ribbons for what she thought was a failure. I climbed back into the shower, held her, and explained a few things. I explained that the purpose of the assignment was in the doing it at all and in the not giving up until health and well-being became an issue. I soothed her out of her head and back into the moment, where I was proud that she had engaged in so superfluous and unproductive a task at all. She consented to stop beating herself up for the moment.

So, I went upstairs and laid out her clothes, from the inside out, so to speak. Starting with the Njoy Pure plug, a tube of lube, and the Doxy, and then onto a shirt and skirt, I prepared her appearance for the day. I don’t normally do this because I don’t normally get to do this, but it felt important in that moment that she feel an extra layer of my influence and approval.

I left her to get dressed while I did some cleaning down stairs – until I heard the telltale buzz of the Doxy. I went up; she was beautiful. I tugged on and assaulted her nipples while she came. I forced her throat down around my cock while she came. I beat her ass with a belt while she came. All separate and massive orgasms, by the way.

And then I offered her some Brownie Points.  “Do you want some brownie points today?”

“Yes please,” she chirped, enthusiastically. 

I pulled her short leash out of the playbox. If I am remembering correctly, this came from one of Rye’s old clutch purses. I attached the tether to the Njoy’s handle, and instructed her to leave the lead for the day. 

Rye with her plug and her leash on.

She did. The whole time we were out at a fancy restaurant to celebrate her birthday. It led to an interesting and hilariously compromising situation, but I’ll leave Rye to share it, as she knows more of the details, and it would be a story whose heart is more in the truth than the embellishment.

Unfortunately, however, she did not get to spend the day in the skirt I had picked out, but that’s mostly because I insisted on cumming on her face before lunch and the skirt got gobbed on. “If it was only one spot, I’d probably leave it, but this is a bit obvious.”

You could fairly ask what the point of any of this is. In all honestly, I’m not sure myself – real life often defies logical presentation. If it were fiction, I would suggest that the story of the plug come before the story of the tears, so that the energy for the former could feed the emotion of the later. I would give the whole thing a small bundle of possible interpretations, all somehow distinct and connected at the same time. I would give it an optimistic but ambiguous conclusion.

Life defies narrative direction, but soars in the telling.

A close up of Rye's ass with her plug and her leash.