A new journey (post cocoa) Part two

Copyright © 2007 Markee 2baad-sosaad. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the written permission of the author. (e-mail: phlyonzawahl@shaw.ca)

Her heart pounded in her chest, feeling like it was about to explode. Was that his hands around her neck? Oh, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all! He’d said something about eroto-asphyxia, but she figured he was only joking! She braced herself, ready to kick him in the shins from behind, when…

…the smell of leather wafted into her nostrils.

“An offering,” he said, only the second time he’d spoken since they began. “In partial thanks, and to show you how serious I am.”

Breathing a sigh of relief while inhaling the scent of leather in again, her nipples stiffened as he secured the collar. Now she was excited! She wondered what it looked like!

“Th…thank you, Master,” she stammered, before realizing he hadn’t actually given her permission to speak.

After a pause that felt like an eternity, he said “You’re welcome. Now, onto the floor, my lovely bitch.”

Oh my god! What was he going to do now? But before she could ponder how she could possibly make it to the ground without falling over, she felt a firm grip around her wrists. As he eased her down, she felt a cushion beneath her knees. Well, that was thoughtful! And, to spite feeling like she was about to do one of those ‘drinking bird’ imitations, she was determined to hold herself up as best she could, to spite being at a 45 degree angle.

Hearing him move around to face her, she wondered if he was staring at her breasts. He did say he loved them, but she still couldn’t help feeling just a little self-conscious…

…a LITTLE self-conscious? HAH! Here she was, stark naked and bent forward, on her knees, alone except for her Master in HIS house, and she was worried about feeling a little self-conscious?

Silly guurl…

“This is called ‘the inspection’,” he said. She could feel him slowly traversing her body.

“An inspection?” she said, half-whispering.

“Yes.”

And, to spite the awkwardness, to spite the embarrassment of it all, his words somehow made sense – in a crude, tire-kicking way. When she thought about it, though, wasn’t that sort of what they were doing here, anyway?

Kicking the tires…