Ramblings

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Babes

As always:

Thanks to “Alpineskier” for editing.

Thanks to “Doc” for story consulting.

*

I have become conscious that my subconscious was being controlled by someone else years ago. I suppose it could just be a few weeks considering time goes by so slowly when your days suck, therefore it felt like years. I do not know if it was a gradual transition or if it was something that immediately impacted me, all I do know is I’m not in control. It’s not like I’m a puppet and She pulls the strings. I’m not Pinocchio. It’s more like I’m a robot, programmed to do daily tasks. I’m on autopilot. Hell, I don’t even know my name. With that said, I guess my name could be Pinocchio. I know what you’re thinking, “How does he not know his own name?” That’s easy, it is never used. I assume when I was born my father and mother slapped my ass and said, “I shall call him Jack or George or Henry or…” well, you get the point. But I have no recollection of it even though I was there. I have no memories of family, friends, school (I assume I went?), or anything else for that matter. If I do have family or friends, those assholes haven’t tried to find me. Or couldn’t? I prefer couldn’t.

What’s worse is I don’t even know who is controlling me. Yes, I know what She looks like, stop trying to trip me up! She’s average in height, 50ish, with short brunette hair, slender, and likes to boss me around. I just don’t know Her name. I know what you’re thinking, “How does he not know Her name?” See the answer to “How does he not know his own name?” above. Same reason. My conscious knows Her as “Master”. But I never call Her that. Well, I can’t say never. I did once. Only once. She didn’t like it. I was verbally berated and then ignored for a week. That was tough. Even as a slave, verbal communication is nice, even if it is one way communication. My subconscious, however, doesn’t call Her anything. If I have a question, I just walk into the room until She acknowledges me and I ask. Simple. Oh, and if I’m using the words conscious and subconscious incorrectly, I don’t care. I’m not Sigmund Freud. Or I could be. Like I said, I don’t remember.

Well it’s time for me to wake up the Master. Being Saturday, I only know its Saturday because She is lying next me as Monday thru Friday She would be at work (what I wouldn’t give to go back to work, if only I knew what I used to do) and Sunday She would be at church. I don’t get to go. I’m certain its because She wouldn’t know how to explain our situation. I know, how ironic. A person with a slave goes to church. How does that work? Well, it does. For Her anyways. Not for me. Damn. I’m a minute late waking Her up. Thanks a lot. I hope She doesn’t notice. I have to stop talking now. I have to focus briefly on this task of waking Her up. Hold on a minute.

Okay, kızılay escort using my tongue, start at the bottom of the slit and lightly go to the top. Use my hands to lightly caress Her inner thighs and around the pelvic region. Use the tongue to tease Her folds. Gently insert tongue into pussy. Circle left, gaining depth. Circle right, going deeper.

“Oh, is it morning already?” Master rubs the sleep from Her eyes.

I let my mouth answer as I begin pushing in and out of Her tunnel. My hands travel up Her body and fondle Her breasts. First, molding and shaping them, then finding Her nipples and pinching. She has very sensitive nipples. I am rewarded when She has a sharp intake of air. I’m doing well. And She didn’t notice the minute late. Ha!

“Are you alright?” Her head lifted off the pillow. “You just stopped.”

Damn, I told you I had to focus. Why did you interrupt me? Time to lie to Her. “I was only savoring your taste.”

Her head went back down as I worked my tongue harder. Whew, that was close. My hands now leave Her breasts. One finds a home playing with Her clit. The other goes underneath Her body and I gently push a pinkie finger in Her ass. My Master begins convulsing, writhing in Her orgasm. All my motions go to a light petting as She rides the wave. I did well. Maybe I was a sex education teacher? Probably not. When I first started, She had to tell me a lot. I was never right. Come to think of it, I still am never right.

I get up between Her legs and ease my cock into Her.

“Mmmm.” She moans.

I begin to thrust. Okay, I can talk to you and do this at the same time. Where were we? Oh yeah, conscious and subconscious. I am consciously talking to you and subconsciously fucking my Master. By the way, I absolutely loathe having a Master. Since I must have one, I feel fortunate that I have Her. The worst I get is verbally assaulted. No whips, chains, or humiliating insertions. I still despise the bitch. I assume I must’ve liked Her, at least somewhat, in the past for Her to put me under this spell. It was probably all an act on Her part though. I know what you’re thinking, “Why not leave when She’s at work?” Duh. If I could have, I would have. There is only one car and we dwell, at least it seems this way, in the middle of nowhere. I say dwell, because that’s what I do. She lives here, I dwell here. Anyways, back to escaping. I suppose I could just walk around and hope to find civilization somewhere, but more than likely, my body will have been eaten by a bear in the woods. Yes, I realize that is unlikely, maybe I was a forest ranger, but I would, in all likelihood, die.

“Are you alright?” She was becoming curious. “You don’t seem to be here right now.”

Shit. You distracted me again. I know I said I could do both, but the thought of me dying etlik escort didn’t sit too well with me. Oh well, time to lie again. “I was mesmerized by your beauty.” Damn. Now I have to build Her up again. Hang on another minute so I can create a rhythm.

I start pounding into Her and use one hand to rub Her clit while the other goes back and forth, dutifully toying with each nipple. Harder. Deeper. My Master is now moaning loudly, which is very good. She’s almost there. If She’s happy, my life is better. At least for the rest of today. Maybe I won’t have to mow the lawn.

Okay, I’m back. Where was I? Oh yeah, you wanted me to die trying to escape. So I am going to go with “no” on the attempting to escape. Thanks for trying to kill me. Besides, I’m only here for sex, cooking, hey, maybe I was a chef, like Chef Ramsey, or maybe I am Chef Ramsey, prove me wrong, and general house maintenance. My Master even let’s me watch football in the winter. Not that I like football, I just watch because She lets me and I know She doesn’t like it. My own sort of revenge. I know, I’m pathetic.

“I’m cumming!” Master is screaming.

Fuck, that was loud. Do you have earplugs? Oh never mind, I’m cumming too. As I’ve been instructed, I lean in and give Her a light peck on the lips and lie down next to Her. I then compliment Her.

“You were phenomenal.”

“So were you, my loving husband. I love you.”

“I love you too, my beautiful wife.”

“I do hope you saved some energy. You have to mow the lawn.”

Damn.

* * *

Her side:

What The Fuck? I swear, every Saturday, the one damn day I can sleep in, he has to pull this shit. He just has to jump in between my legs at six in the morning. Oh look at that, its 6:01 AM, he let me sleep in for an extra minute. Remind me to thank his ass. I’m going to pretend I’m still sleeping and I move my legs a little to show annoyance. Damn, it didn’t work. Oh well, might as well get this over with.

“Is it morning already?” I wipe the sleep from my eyes.

Of course the lush answers me with his usual response of ignoring me completely. Typical male reaction. Then if I ask again he’ll say “I didn’t hear you.” Bullshit, he heard me. He could be In the garage making all sorts of racket and I could whisper something about him to one of friends on the phone and he will come storming in saying I can’t believe you told so and so that. But he’ll be right next to me and not hear a word I say. Oh, he stopped attempting to please me. Hang on a minute.

I lift my head up. “Are you alright?”

“I was only savoring your taste.” He replied half heartedly.

My taste. Did you hear that? My taste. What a retard. The only thing he can taste right now is his own spit. I know I haven’t secreted anything. Oh great, now demetevler escort he’s putting a finger in my ass. I just love that. Yes, that was sarcasm. Actually, I really hate that. Why not just give me an enema. That is so uncomfortable. Alright, time to fake an orgasm. I shake a little. Now he sits up on his knees and enters me.

“Mmmm.” I moan.

I didn’t moan because he’s putting his puny excuse for a dick, pun intended, inside me. No, I’m just happy his pinkie is out of my ass. Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, his ability to outright ignore me. It’s not just verbally. I know he’s stressed, however, I don’t know what would cause it since he doesn’t work. But when I see it, I’ll go over and rub his shoulders. I would still get no response. No acknowledgement I’m even in the same room, let alone touching him. Hell, he should be massaging me. I work ten hours a day, five days a week. Hold on, he stopped again. I hope he’s finished so I can go back to sleep.

“Are you alright? You don’t seem to be here right now.” I’m hoping for a snore for a response.

“I was mesmerized by your beauty.” He said mundanely.

Great. Now he has to build himself up again. Damn it. Oh, and did you catch that lie? My beauty. The beauty he hasn’t looked at for over ten years, but any other woman that walks by, and I mean every other woman; the other woman could be a hot teen cheerleader or a ninety year old woman in a wheelchair, his head is on a swivel. Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, I work, he doesn’t. Now I do try to cut him some slack. He lost his job three years ago and has been down ever since. He hasn’t been able to find a job and he is going through a mid-life crisis or something. But come on already. Live life. I make enough money to support us. Let’s do something on weekends. My church is always doing something on Sunday after services and always invite me places, but can I get him off his ass from watching football? Hell no. I am definitely going to get him back when I go through menopause. You know what? I am done talking. Time to fake ‘the big one’. The big one I haven’t had in ten years, and that was when I was imagining Matt Damon plowing into me. Ooh, I actually just felt something. Matt Damon. Matt Damon. Matt Damon. Matt Damon. Matt Damon. Matt Damon.

“I’m cumming!” Okay, it wasn’t the big one, but at least it was something.

Now he leans in for his patented peck on my lips and flops next to me. How romantic. Yes, that was sarcasm too. Would it kill him to cuddle just once? I would just settle for one minute of his time at that point. Now wait for it. He’s going to say the same three words he always does. Wait for it.

“You were phenomenal.” He said in a monotone voice.

Somehow he managed to say those words all in one syllable. Would it kill him to switch up the adjective? I suppose I have to compliment him back. “So were you, my loving husband. I love you.”

“I love you too, my beautiful wife.”

Now to get him out of bed so I can go back to sleep.” I do hope you saved some energy. You have to mow the lawn.”

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