I know you want to kill me (especially allybonky!). I really built that story up yesterday, and now here it is …another “stall” day…but……Master has ordered a ‘follow up’ to the Sunday @ Starbucks tale…
And I may as well tell you up front there won’t be a Felicitation’s chapter Wednesday either, since I will be taking part in the Bloggers for Human Rights post then..though there will be two stories that day. So I hope you do come back for that. I won’t post a HNT post this week, will jump right back into Felicitations until it is finished. Promise. Unless…you know, the Boss decides to have me do something different.
There, that takes care of the PSA’s (public service announcements) for this post.
Now, back to the Starbucks tale.
Master and I sat together at a little table in the back of “Our” Starbucks. I’d palmed a heart in my hand before I came in. Leaning down to give Him a kiss, I planted this heart on the back of his shoulder. It about killed me to not giggle. I headed right for the bathroom, where I laughed quietly to myself, and took care of business.But….before I came out of the bathroom, I slipped ANOTHER heart out of my purse.
Yes, I did it again. Can you believe the temerity?
I pushed on the door to leave the bathroom. It didn’t open. WTF….oh. I get it. I give a tentative push. Nope.
Someone is blocking the door and you don’t need three guesses to figure out who “someone” is. So what does a slut do when her Master sticks her in the bathroom and won’t let her out?
She sends Him a text, of course.
“Let me out!”
Not very submissive, I admit. I pushed on the door. It opened. He was sitting at our table. His phone chimed. He looks at it, at me.
“Is that from…you, little girl?”
I can’t help it, I start laughing. The Bastard. I walk over to him, leaned down, kissing Him soundly. I slide my hand down His chest, and stick a fat puffy heart over His heart…
Then I collapsed into the chair opposite his, giggling. And we talked and I giggled, and we talked and…I begged him to read the post. And He did.
A few giggles snuck out as I watched His face, as he took in my words.
And then he got to the end.
He didn’t look at me.
“There better not be a fucking heart on me…is there?”
And then He looks at me.
And I….well, suffice it to say everyone in Starbucks heard me laughing…aisha will tell you that I laugh very loudly when amused…and oh, my…was I amused!!
“Yes…*giggle*…y…*giggle* … yessssss *guffaw* Master…” and I about fall over, laughing.
“You little ….” He scowls at me, then smiles.
Oh, beware those Master smiles. It promised retribution. He spoke softly of pain. Of being cuffed with my hands behind me, while He…hmm…there was something there about a sledge hammer, and … I will pay, and with my ass.
He counted up the strikeouts that He felt warranted it. Then He added the hearts I’d scored on Him. In addition to the one on His shoulder, the one over His heart on His sweatshirt, the one on His knee (under the guise of rubbing His knee under the table….)…there were two more.
One under His sweatshirt on His chest. The other, under all His shirts nestled at His throat. A teeeny weeeeny pink one.
Cruisin’ for a bruising, as Mick put it so well.
a small addendum here..Master wrote to me this morning: “Too bad they couldn’t see your glee due to your little heart escapade and while I was reading your blog – you were like a kid at Christmas.”
And it’s true…I was beaming with happy!
We finally found a playdate that works for us both; i guess I should be more worried about my ass…yet, I’m not. It’ll be 7 weeks since our last playtime, but it is what it is, yanno? All in all, despite the brevity of our time together on Sunday, it was full and joyous, with a dash of pain to season everything.
I love to see His eyes sparkle with amusement, and gleam with that ferocious Warrior’s glimmer. It’s a huge turn on for me to see Him like that. He laughed at my math problem…it’s a longstanding thing between us…my suckage at all things math. He applauded when I balanced my checkbook last month. Yeah, it’s a sorry state of affairs, my relationship with all things numerical (except for baking… though who knows why?)
Anyway, He isn’t “pissed” at me…but He has definite plans for payback of immense proportions. I can hardly wait. He wants me to write my obituary. No, don’t gasp…it is only in humor. You know how we all say “I’m gonna kill you…” and don’t mean it? It’s like that. But so fucking funny, really. And yes, okay…it makes me…nervous. GOOD nervous; sweaty palms, wet-between-the-thighs nervous….
He will, of a certainty, make sitting exquisitely painful. He had already promised a “long session with the Belt”….and who knows if it just got longer, or if FSCT will become the starring member of the cast of characters who come out to play.
I’ll keep you all up to date on that!
I have a brand new outfit to wear..and I am very excited about it…it…no..wait, He’s going to read this. So sorry pervie friends…you’ll have to wait for the pictures!
On this day for lovers…all kinds of lovers, even pervie lovers …I wish you tidings of joy and pain, and hope if you have not yet found your “One”…as I have…that your search ends, and you find the One who has been looking for you.