Yes, that was the only response to my wonderful orgasm fantasy. My email program shows the first line of text, and dammit if every fucking time i checked my email, there HIS was, mocking me.
I was so mad i could have spit.
I was so annoyed i wanted to bite Him.
I was so fucking pissed that i knew if i wrote *anything* to Him, anything at all, it would be a diatribe of immense proportions. I wanted to keep cool.
I wanted to be a good girl.
But gods above and below, i was FUMING.
We talked later Monday night. We talked about this, that, his day, my day, plans for Christmas, yada yada yada.
Finally after about 20 minutes, i whispered “Master?” in my softest, sweetest voice.
“Yes nilla?” He says. His voice is suave, smooth silk.
“uh, Master, about my orgasm report.”
There is silence on His end of the phone.
Then, “I think I saw that. Did I see that?”
Instantly i’m fuming again.
“Yes, Master.” i say through gritted teeth. “You wrote back ‘Penelope'”
“OH” He says (the Bastard)…”Right, Penelope. I’ll bet that pissed you off some, huh?”
Silence from my end of the phone, and then the bastard, the unmitigated gall of Him…He fucking laughs.
“Oh, nilla, I’ll bet you fumed about that all fucking day!” He chortles.
I’m stuttering, unable to speak.
“Oh, this is priceless, she’s speechless!” He laughs.
“I’ve been on the receiving end of that Swedish temper of yours,” He continued, “and I’ll bet you thought all kinds of mean and dastardly thoughts, didn’t you slut?”
What could i do but confess? He played me like a fiddle. We both said it at nearly the same moment.
“You know, nilla, I like to keep you on your toes. And I want you to remember that I know *EXACTLY* which buttons to push to get a reaction from you. It’s not the same buttons I push when my hand is on your body…but My hand is *always* on you.”
um uh…stuttering and sputtering.
“yo..you..You…planned this. You…i…all fucking DAY Master, i saw that message. I …i…gods Master!”
He is so delighted that He has totally fucked with my head, that i have felt His mastery over me. He played me and i fell hard and deep.
He told me he wanted me to write the response that i would have written if i’d not held back. He wanted the full bore of it. He wanted to feel my anger, my reactions.
He wanted every drop of what He had squeezed out of me.
Lastly, He told me it was the hottest thing He’d read that i’d written right for Him, pertaining to my orgasms and my fantasies. And that i needed to blog it for you, as well as the two follow up parts of what transpired afterwards.
The Man keeps me tied up, even when He never laid a hand on me.
Isn’t that neat?