I rush to His house giddy with anticipation and stricken with fear. It is ever thus, this monthly escape always squeezed into too little time. Little white lies allow me to leave work early and arrive home for dinner a little later than normal. How early and how late determines the amount of time I have to be His.

His. For a few hours each month, that word defines me. His – to enjoy as he pleases. His – to tend to His every command. His – to be a vessel for his carnal desires.

I hurry, desperate to be in His presence. To feel His power. To submit completely to Him, for these few precious hours.

My heart races and my breath quickens as I ring the bell of His front door. My head lowered, eyes cast downward as a good submissive always does. It seems forever before I hear the creak and feel His eyes upon me.

“You’re late, pet.”

“I’m sorry Sir.”

He grabs my hair and pulls me inside. I kneel before Him in silence, my head remaining bowed.

He places the collar around my neck. The cinch of it reminds me that I am owned and allows me to enter my subspace. A calm descends upon me, and happiness fills me. I am at home.

I flinch in anticipation of the pain and physical exhaustion that the next few hours will bring. Yet my heart swells to think that I am worthy of Him. He understands that my submission is freely given. He can be terribly cruel and yet incredibly tender in the same moment. He knows my buttons, and my limits, and over the course of our time together He has shown a knack for taking me right to the edge, again and again. He has gradually expanded my boundaries and I have blossomed under His command.

This is what I have come to realize I so desperately need, what I had been lacking. Having no desire to abandon my normal life, I have found in Him, in Us, an alternate world that nourishes and sustains me. How I arrived here seems lost in the fog of memory. It’s best to say it just happened, gradually. All that matters now is that I’m here, that I have this place of respite and renewal.

I stand, knowing the routine well enough that He need not speak. He motions toward the special room, and I enter. My dress falls to the floor. I am naked beneath, as He expects. He bends me over and applies lube to my ass before inserting the plug. It is large and will keep me in discomfort. He has me lie face up on the table and shackles my wrists and ankles. I am exposed and at His mercy.

We have one inviolate rule – no marks. He clamps my nipples and tightens them until tears appear. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. My arms and legs are stretched to the point of extreme discomfort, and He tugs on the chain between the clamps as a jolt of electricity from the wand He holds shocks my clit. My entire body jumps, and I struggle against my restraints.

He shocks me again.  And again. I want to scream but am forbidden to do so. I descend deeper into my subspace as He alternates torturing my clit and my nipples. I don’t think I can take any more and still He keeps at it. Just as I feel I could pass out, He relents. He leans over me and says only one word – slut – before spitting in my face.

Slut. He degrades me, and I feel only joy. Then I see Him lighting the candle and I brace for my next test. The first drops hit my belly, and I spasm in response. More drops, on my nipples, my chest, my inner thighs. He is working his way toward my clit. The anticipation is agonizing. I remind myself that this is a test of the mind even more than the body. When a drop finally hits my nub, the pain is excruciating. My face contorts in anguish as He administers just as much torture as He knows I can take, and not a fraction more.

It is the uncertainty, the fear that just this once He will cross the line, that proves almost unbearable. And yet, my body is already screaming for release, my arousal fed by the mixture of pain and anxiety, my orgasm so close, so close. I know that I must wait for permission. This denial is torture, and still, it feeds me.

On and on it goes. His cock is out now, and He jams it down my throat roughly, my head hanging off the table. Tears stream down and I fight the gag reflex over and over, not wanting to disappoint Him. His cock enters me now, roughly. This is not tender lovemaking. He is fucking me like I am nothing but His toy. The pain is intense, and so is my need to climax. I fight like crazy not to cum, and I dare not beg. He pulls out and slaps my clit again and again because He knows how insane that makes me. He shoves his cock back into my hole and with a rough tug the nipple clamps rip off. The searing pain is too much, and I let out an involuntary scream.

I catch myself and try to stifle my cry, but the anger in His face is already evident. He slaps my cheek hard, calls me a weak cunt, spits on me again. He pulls out of me and walks away. I begin to whimper. He leaves the room.

I am alone. This, this is torture. I have displeased Him. I have failed Him. Time stretches on. My emotions descend to the depths. I struggle against my restraints. I wish I could just stand and leave. The longing in me hurts terribly.

Finally, He returns. The anger in His face has turned to annoyance. He slaps my tits roughly, jams His fingers into my mouth until I am sure I’m going to gag. The next slaps land on my pussy. They sting. He pinches my nipples hard and twists them until I am writhing helplessly. My breathing is labored, I exhale aggressively, trying to control my body and my mind. My arousal, already near the breaking point during His absence, reaches another level. Inside I am screaming that I need to cum. I am delirious.

He unfastens my shackles and pulls me up, turns me around, and bends me over the table. My ankles are affixed with shackles attached to the bottoms of the table legs and my wrists tied to small hooks on the side of the table. I am helpless as He pulls the plug out of me. It makes a plopping sound as it springs free. My hole is sore. I feel His saliva drooling down on it, once, twice, three times before the head of His massive cock presses against my entrance.

This is new territory. I have never given my ass to anyone, not even my husband. The thought of it frightens me, but He does not ask permission. He pushes into me firmly and assertively, and it feels as if He will rip me apart. The searing pain moves up through my bowels into my belly as He begins to fuck me, slowly, then faster, and even faster. I am nothing but a rag doll as He drives into me. I want to cry out, to use the safe word I’ve never had to use, but I fight it, fight hard, wanting so desperately to be worthy of Him.

He pulls my hair, spanks my ass with his bare hands, grabs my hips and slams into me over and over. The pain is nearly too much to bear, but the denial is even worse agony. He knows how close I am. He pulls out of my ass and shoves two fingers into my sopping cunt. He leans over, and I hear the sweet words.

“Cum for me.”

I explode. My body convulses and my liquid hits the floor with a splat. I have lost all control and am nothing but a quivering mass of flesh. He grabs my hips and splits my ass once again, fucking me even harder now as I feel His cock swell and brace for his release. The torrent that floods me is powerful and frightening in its volume, and another orgasm rips through me. I am sobbing now, tears of joy and completion, my spasming body struggling to return to normal.

Eventually, though, it does. I am barely conscious as my wrists and ankles are freed and He leads me to the bed. He lays beside me, wrapping me in His warm embrace and kissing me tenderly. Words of praise reach my ears, and His gentle touch is all over me. I feel warm, safe, and happy.

I feel loved. And I feel love. I know that I am not His only pet, yet there is nowhere I would rather be than here, safe in His arms. I cannot fight this feeling. It has been growing. His control over me has become absolute.

I kneel once again as He removes the collar, and a sadness begins to suffuse me as our time has come to an end. He brings me yoga clothes – my cover, literally and figuratively. I dress reluctantly and He ushers me out. I stumble half-blindly to my car, my body sore and exhausted. I collapse in the driver’s seat and manage to compose myself enough to drive away. I glance at the clock and am stunned by how much time has passed.

The drive home is twenty minutes, and I need every second of it to transition back into my normal life, to leave the submissive slut behind for now and take on my other persona. The cum dripping out of me serves as the only link to my temporary world. I’m running a bit late and rush into the house with a profuse apology.

“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid the class went a bit long and then I tarried on the way out.”

“That’s okay, my love, dinner’s not quite ready yet anyway. Shall I get you a glass of wine?”

He comes over and gives me a gentle kiss. I try not to let my body betray me. He is so wonderful. I feel a little sick.

“Sure, but let me take a quick shower first. I’m rather sweaty.”

“Of course,” he replies. “You do have quite a glow; it must have been an intense class.”

If only you knew, I think to myself.

I ascend to our master suite and peel off my clothes in the bathroom while the shower water warms. I inspect the inside of my tights. There is a noticeable white blob. I bring the fabric to my face and lick the cum off the tights. I close my eyes and savor the salty taste, and for a moment I am carried back to Him. I reach behind me and insert a finger into my ass, scooping out a little bit more of Him. Even in absence, He feeds me.

I enter the shower and scrub my skin thoroughly. Bits of wax peel off and run down the drain. There remains only the rest of His cum in my ass. I do nothing to clean it. I want Him dripping out of me all evening. I want to cling to this bridge back to my other world until the last drop of Him leaves my body.

The water washes over me as my mind replays the last few hours. I rub my clit and close my eyes, and as my climax hits, I whisper, “Sir.”

My orgasm is so intense that my legs give way, and I slump to the shower floor, still furiously rubbing my sore and swollen clit, willing my body to another release as I sob uncontrollably.

I cannot get Him out of me now. He will haunt my waking hours and my dreams until the next time I can steal away. I must learn to live with this because I cannot live without it.

That starts now. I step out of the shower, dress, and descend to the kitchen. My husband will be amorous, but I will deny him tonight, blaming exhaustion from a hard yoga class. It is as He has ordered. Tomorrow I must text my obedience and only then will I receive His permission.

And then I will lay under him and think about Him.