I had planned to sleep in that Sunday morning, but to my surprise, I

felt her slide out of bed around nine o'clock. I had given her a rough

time Saturday night and expected her to be exhausted. She had always

been one to sleep like a stone, though, then wake up early and feel

totally refreshed. The bathroom door closed. After a couple minutes I

heard the hiss of the shower. I knew she had taken those minutes to

remove her collar and the three sets of cuffs she had worn since the

night before. The bed was a damp mess. We had gone to bed sweaty and

sweated even more in the hot Southern night. There was certainly more

than sweat on those sheets as well. I rolled over and swung my feet to

the floor. Grabbing my robe from the top of the dresser, I threw it over

my shoulders and padded out to the kitchen.

Just as the coffee finished brewing and I poured my first cup, the

shower stopped. Again there was an interval before she opened the

bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She leaned around the

corner to glance into the bedroom, thinking to confirm that I was still

asleep. She wore only her collar and the three unconnected sets of cuffs

at wrists, elbows and ankles. "I'm in here," I said. "In the kitchen."

She dropped quickly to her knees, face down and ass in the air. She

clasped her hands behind her back. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't expect.

. . I didn't get a chance to wake you properly." "And how would you have

done that?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "With my mouth, Master,

as you directed. With my lips and tongue," she answered without looking

up. "Consider yourself forgiven," I chuckled. "Kneel up." She displayed

herself for me, knees wide, torso erect, head bowed. Her hands stayed

clasped behind her. "Would you like a cup of coffee, slut?"

"Yes, Master," she said softly. "If it pleases you." "Come in here,

then." "Of course, Master." She dropped to all fours to crawl slowly

into the kitchen. Stopping beside me, she folded down, face to the floor

and clasped her hands behind her. I felt her lips softly caress my

ankle. I poured coffee into two white porcelain diner-style cups and

added milk. I picked up the cups and, reluctantly pulling my feet away

from her soft lips, stepped over to the kitchen table and sat. Setting

the cups in front of me, I waved a hand at the opposite chair. "Sit

down. Relax for a minute," I told her. She knelt up, her head bowed to

avoid my gaze and replied, "I'd prefer to kneel." "Yes?"

"If it pleases you, Master, I'd prefer to kneel," she added hurriedly.

"On the bare tile, slut?" "Yes, Master. I deserve no more. I failed you.

. . ." She shuffled over on her knees to find a place beside the table.

She again bowed face down to the floor. "Relax, you did fine. I

surprised you, that's all. I said you were forgiven. I'll decide if

you've failed me. Got that?" "Yes, Master."

"Now drink your coffee and let's talk for a second." She knelt up and

took the mug in both hands. Her nipples were level with the table top.

She took a sip of the steaming coffee and quickly set down the mug. "I

was pretty rough on you last night," I began.

"Yes, Master," She glanced up into my eyes quickly, almost furtively.

Her lips crinkled. She was trying to hide a smile. "You were hard on me.

But it was punishment you had decided for my disobedience." "And how did

you disobey me?" "I came, Master, against your direct command. Five

times."

"Did I make it possible for you to obey me?" "No, Master. I could not

obey you." She picked up her cup and held it in her clasped hands, below

the table top. "Was it fair to punish you, then?"

"I accept your wish to correct my behavior, Master." She took a gulp of

coffee, then another. No longer trying to conceal her smile she looked

straight up at me, boldly. "I accept your right to punish me for

whatever reason you desire. I accept that you may punish me for no

reason but your wish to do so." I shook my head slowly and smiled back

down at her. "Then you have no reservations about your decision to

become my slave." "No, Master. None." "Not even after last night?"

"No, Master, especially not after last night." "I don't think I quite

understand that." "Last night, Master, you made me completely yours. You

took away every thing except my trust in you, my faith in you, my

dependence on you. That's what I want, Master, what I desire, to be

yours totally, heart, mind and body." "And you're absolutely sure of

that?"

"Yes, absolutely." "If you're that certain, then that is what I'll

expect. Absolute submission." "Yes, Master." She set down her coffee mug

and bowed her head.

I could just see the corners of her mouth turned up through the cascade

of her hair. She was still smiling. I finished my coffee in silence. She

had drunk most of hers in quick sips as we talked. Setting my empty mug

on the table, I stood and looked down at her naked form. She knelt, head

bowed and hands clasped behind her. She had barely moved since we

finished talking. "The bed's a mess," I said. "Change the sheets and

start breakfast. I need a shower." As I passed her heading toward the

bathroom, I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. I

leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. Our tongues sparred

briefly before I broke away and dropped her hair. She quickly bowed her

head. "What are you waiting for? Get to work," I demanded before I

closed the bathroom door.

I sat at the kitchen table and watched her with amusement as I ate my

scrambled eggs, toast and jam, then sipped my second cup of coffee. She

knelt in the middle of the floor, leaning over her breakfast plate. A

bowl full of orange juice sat on the floor beside the plate. I could

have made eating breakfast more difficult for her, by binding her hands

behind or simply ordering her not to use them. As it was, she was once

again in her "uniform" with ankle cuffs connected by about a foot of

chain and her wrists by a single link. I had allowed her no utensils.

She had messily spread butter and jam on her toast with her fingertips.

Eating the toast was no problem, she could easily raise it to her mouth,

but the eggs were a different matter. After several unsuccessful tries

with different techniques, she managed to hold a lump of egg between the

fingertips of both hands and navigated it to her mouth before it oozed

away. She was determined to eat it all, probably knowing that I would

have insisted anyway. Finishing the eggs, she picked up the plate and

licked it clean of crumbs and egg. She leaned over her bowl and lapped

up orange juice, catlike. "May I clean up the dishes, Master?" she

asked, looking up from the empty bowl. "Go ahead."

She stood, picked up her plate and bowl and placed them in the sink.

Then she cleaned my dishes from the table and began to run dishwater.

"Are you finished eating, slut?" "Yes, Master, of course," she responded

as she squirted soap into the sink, holding the bottle in both hands. "I

don't think so," I said, pointing at three yellow globs of egg in the

floor. "I'm sorry, Master. How could I have been so careless?" she said

with a smile. She scooped up a sponge and leaned down to wipe up the

spilled egg. "Stop." I said. She froze in mid-swipe. "Eat." "But Master,

it's on the floor."

"You clean that floor don't you?" "Yes, Master, but I . . . " "Eat it."

"Yes Master. If course. If it pleases you, Master." She dropped to her

knees, leaned down and carefully licked up each drop of egg from the

floor. She licked an area about six inches across around each egg spot,

leaving the floor wet, shiny and spotless. "Very good, slut," I said.

"You may stand to finish the dishes." She rose, facing me. She looked

down at her bound hands and held them out for me to see. "Master," she

asked, "would you please release my hands so I can wash the dishes. I'm

afraid I'll break something; my hands are so clumsy like this." "I'd

hate to have to punish you for breaking a plate," I smiled. I took her

hands in mine and released the link between her wrist cuffs. "Thank you,

Master." She grinned up at me and began to turn toward

the sink. "Just a minute," I said, tightening my grip on her wrists.

"I'm not going to make it that easy." She pursed her lips and looked

down at the floor. "No, Master. Of course not." I pulled the short chain

from my pants pocket and clipped each end of it to her cuffs. "There you

go. Restrained, but not disabled. That should be quite serviceable."

"Yes, Master, quite," she replied, pulling her wrists apart with a

jangling of chain. Her voice dripped sarcasm. I chose to ignore her

tone. "When you finish the dishes, get our food and drinks together for

our picnic. I've got some things to get ready." She turned and plunged

her bound hands into soapy water. I spanked her once, hard, on each ass

cheek with my palm before I turned away from her. "Thank you, Master," I

barely heard her say as I left the kitchen.

Everything was ready for our picnic in the mountains. We had cheese,

wine, mustard, pate,pickles and fruit packed in ice in a small cooler in

the rear floorboard of the car. A blanket, bread. and some special

goodies I had prepared were in a knapsack in the back seat. Of course, I

had let her dress to go out. She had said, "Barely, but dressed." She

sat beside me in a tiny red bikini top and a pair of high cut, skin

tight nylon running shorts.

I figured that was about the minimum to keep her from getting arrested

if we were stopped in traffic. Starting the engine, I looked around, as

if preparing to back out of our parking spot. I stopped and shook my

head, pretending to be surprised that I had "forgotten" something.

"Master?" she asked. "I almost didn't remember this," I said, taking the

pair of wraparound sunglasses that I had prepared the previous day out

of my shirt pocket. "Put these on," I ordered and handed them to her.

She slipped the glasses over her eyes. "I can't see," she said, her head

darting form side to side, searching for light. "No," I replied, "I

painted out the lenses."

"This is mean, Master. How will I know where we're going?" "You won't,"

I said flatly. I reached across and twisted her left nipple through the

thin fabric of her top. "Ow!"

"That was for calling me mean, slut." "Thank you, Master. I can always

count on you to correct me." The corner of her mouth twisted up in a

barely noticeable grin. "Cross your hands behind your back." She leaned

forward, slid her hands behind her and leaned back. "This isn't very

comfortable, Master. How far are we going?"

"You don't need to know," I replied. "Are you complaining?" "No, Master,

I wouldn't do that." Her grin grew broader. "It was just an

observation." "An observation. Of course." I reached across her, lifted

the latch and dropped open the glove compartment. A golf ball rolled out

on the door. "This should keep you out of trouble," I said, grabbing the

ball. "Open wide." "Do I have to, Master?"

"Yes." "Now?" "Now, slut." I tweaked her nipple again. "Ow!" I popped

the golf ball in her mouth before she had a chance to close it. "All

ready?" "Nnnnhhnnnnh." She nodded vigorously. I put the car in gear and

backed out into the drive.