Friday, June 24, 2016

Submission from across the globe

5500 miles. That's how far Master and I are apart, as the crow flies. Once I return, Master has declared that we will be inseparable. For the time being, we are separated. He has been sending me tasks to help me feel more connected to him and to continue to exert his dominance. I will present a few episodes for you here. 

"On the train, little one, you will find the bathroom, twist your nipples until you cry out in pain. Then, edge for 5 minutes. When you return to your seat, continue to edge until I say stop." 

Here goes. I rose from my seat and strode purposefully to the restroom that I had seen when boarding the train. I tried the door. Nothing indicated that the restroom was occupied. The door was stuck. The open button didn't work. I gave it a hard shove and the door slid open slightly. But, much to my chagrin someone was inside. I hoped they didn't notice me. So, I waited. And waited... you know how this is when you are waiting for someone to come out of the restroom. Finally, out they came. In I went. 

I reached under my shirt and grabbed my nipples between my fingers. They rose beneath my touch. I twisted. I immediately became aware of how much more effort it took to hurt myself than I expected. I did as I was told. I twisted, and I pinched, with my jaw clenched until I had to stifle a cry. 

I took down my pants and slid my fingers into my cunt. It was already wet. I thought about Master as my fingers slid in and out, circled gently around my clit and went back into my pussy. I stifled a moan. The train car swayed back and forth... I struggled to keep my balance, and I pressed my body harder into the wall of the restroom. 

The timer went off. I walked out, and returned to my seat.

I crossed my legs HARD when I sat down. Edging was hard with my piercing so fresh. But I kept it up, damn it. 

"You will kneel, in sub position, somewhere in public today, for two minutes."

We walked into the Piazza di Spagna. Tourists were everywhere. It always makes me feel like I am part of some herd going to the slaughter. I was feeling mildly uneasy. I was uncertain how my traveling companion would regard my kneeling in public. I was looking for a safe option. Attract as little attention as possible, I thought. Then I found my opportunity... There was a fountain. It was below ground level. I knelt and as I assumed sub position, sitting on my heels, knees apart and head lowered, I took a picture with my phone. Of nothing in particular, it was merely camouflage. 

I discussed it with Master a few minutes later. My snark very nearly got me into a lot of trouble. "I knelt at the edge of a fountain and took a picture," I said. "I had to have a good reason to kneel." Oops. Ladies and gentlemen, sarcasm is difficult to convey via text message. I very nearly got into some serious trouble. 

"When at home, always leave midriff exposed, unless told otherwise, and wear pants low. No underwear or bra in the house, cutie."

To be quite frank, this made me pretty nervous at first. As I may have mentioned earlier, my traveling companion is more on the conservative side of things. I wasn't sure how she would react. But, I did it anyway, of course. I remember how exposed I felt with my nipples peaked beneath my shirt and the pull of my jeans against my clit. She never said a word. 

"Kneel in sub position for 2 minutes today. Have Naomi take a picture. Send it to me."


I believe it was the night before, she and I had a very long conversation about the BDSM lifestyle (read about it here.). She was putting on makeup in the bathroom when I got Master's message. After the fiasco with the fountain, I had volunteered to have my traveling companion take a picture of my submission. Not very exciting, but it got the job done. Naomi didn't say a word about it. She simply complied. This time, I was sure she had questions, but she never asked. 

"While you are out in town today, go to a public restroom. Kneel on the floor and place your head into the toilet bowl. Edge like this for 5 minutes. Then, sit on the toilet and edge 5 minutes more. If you do not comply, you must send a picture or an explanation of why."

Were I with Master, none of these requests would make me uncomfortable... more than he intended anyway. Traveling with a non-kink person, whose opinion I value so much, causes me a bit of anxiety. Leaving her to go to the restroom was one thing. 10 minutes seemed like another. 

I swallowed my pride and my anxiety and made my way to the WC (as they call it here). I think most of you, dear readers, are american... In Italy, there is often a charge to use a public restroom. For me, there is this feeling of attending some filthy amusement park with the little gate where you deposit your coins and go in. (Of course, all amusement parks are filthy)

The stall was less than civilized. There was toilet paper on the floor, damp with muddy urine. The door didn't lock. There was no seat on the toilet. I don't think that I have ever been so relieved by a dirty bathroom floor. I snapped a picture to send to Master. I perched myself on the edge of the toilet bowl, spread my legs wide and slipped my fingers into my pussy. It was humid in the restroom. I could feel the moisture from the water in the bowl below me. 

I thrusted firmly with my fingers toward my g-spot. I focused on the sensation and started my timer. 10 minutes. I worked hard. I broke a sweat. About four minutes in, someone opened the door. I pulled it shut again immediately... but the minutes grew longer as I had to hold the door shut to prevent interruptions. Ten minutes is a long time to edge. It seemed eternal in that cramped dirty little stall. When the timer went off, I realized that my hand was quite wet, enough so that I would need to clean it before I could pull up my jeans. 

I licked my juices from my fingers, dried them on some toilet paper, rearranged myself, washed my hands, and walked into daylight. I felt naughty, dirty, and yet, somehow accomplished. 


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