A woman’s transcriptions of her thoughts during various lifestyle d/s activities

I wonder what she’s doing.  I wonder how long it will take.  Hey, welcome and thanks for reading.  It feels good to have someone actually pay attention to my thoughts.  It seems crazy, but I literally never get a chance to share my feelings with anyone.

It’s true!  I work as a secretary, and I’m the only non-professional that works in my whole building.  No one ever talks to me-- I just answer phones all day.  After work, I go home (actually to Katherine’s home, technically I am homeless) and literally the first thing I do when I get in the door is put some kind of gag in my mouth.

Right now, in fact, I have a huge inflatable dildo in my mouth with the pump hanging off the end.  I am standing in Katherine’s backyard wearing nothing but a large rigid collar, a pair of chunky high heels and a face full of makeup.  I am tied with white rope around the knees, wrists, and elbows.  My hands are tightly encased in bondage mittens, rendering them useless.  In a special twist of cruelty, my breasts are tied tightly with rope which connects them through the ring in the front of my collar, pulling them upward and turning them red.

Just to complete the mental picture, I’ll describe myself.  Sorry boys, but I can’t really be considered attractive.  I’m a big girl, but I have a large frame so I carry it decently well.  I have black hair (currently in silly pigtails) and a plain, slightly goth-ish face.

Katherine, though, is adorable.  She reminds me of Kristen Bell.  Right now, she’s sitting in a lounge chair on her back porch doing something on her computer.  She’s short, blonde, petite, and perky.  Pretty much the opposite of me.  She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt with a pair of gym shorts, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.  Her feet are encased in brown ankle boots with a wedge heel.  It seems incongruous, but she finds a way to pull it off.  She wears heels almost all the time-- in fact, it’s what first drew me to her.  I really don’t know why she does it, but I find it irresistible.  I like to think that’s why.

I’ve been out here for about 45 minutes, hunched over and attached by my collar to a short post.  I’m awfully uncomfortable, but I’ve gotten used to that.  I’m comfortable almost as rarely as I get to share my feelings with people.  The heels are no big deal, I wear them all the time.  My back aches from hunching over and my bound arms are nearly numb.  My jaw aches from the giant dong (you never really get used to that) and my breasts feel like they’re on fire.

But patiently, I wait.  I half-heartedly stamp my feet and throw my head back, trying to be a “good little horsey girl,” as Katherine likes to say.  I try to make puppy-dog eyes at her so maybe she’ll come untie me, but she doesn’t even look up.  Come to think of it, she hasn’t looked up in quite a while.  Why does she make me do this if she isn’t even going to look at me??  God, she can be mean.

But I can’t think like that.  My role isn’t to question her motives or intentions-- it’s to serve her in what few ways I can and entertain her otherwise.  She says she considers me, quite literally, as a pet.  Humans take on pets because they can-- they are superior beings and give animals food and shelter in exchange for their freedom.  Katherine patiently explained to me that I was like a helpless animal, and that I should give up my freedom to her.  It was simultaneously degrading and compelling.  Before Katherine I was, and had, nobody.  She provided me with direction... purpose.

Sorry for the reminiscing.  It helps to break up the monotony and keep my mind off the pain all over my body and in my psyche.  Oh! She’s walking over here.  I try to say “please please please untie me!” but it just comes out as “mmmmph mmph mmmmph” around the gag in my mouth.  She bursts out laughing.  Now she’s got her shiny new iPhone (paid for out of my paycheck) pointed at me.  God, not more pictures.

Even though I endure almost constant humiliation, the permanence of photographs makes me extremely uncomfortable.  She giggles and tells me she’s sending them to Andrea, her stoner-hippy friend and occasional lover.  Katherine seems to think Andrea would get a real kick out of them.  I’m not a huge fan of Andrea, who is one of a few of Kat’s lovers who know about me.  She seems to find profound joy in provoking me to envy her relationship with my beautiful Kat.  She loves to stare right into my eyes as she makes out with the love of my life.  She’s a vile, ugly person who isn’t worthy of even my lowly position in Katherine’s life.

Boy, I hope she isn’t coming over.  Katherine grabs the valve hanging from the dildo in my mouth.  The hiss of the air coming out drowns out my sigh of relief.  As I try to work feeling back into my jaw I manage to croak out “thank you ma’am.”  She’s never told me to call her that but it shows respect and I think she secretly likes it.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she says with a giggle.  “Andy is coming over in a couple of hours.  I need you to start getting ready.”  She untethers me and uses the rope to lead me back into the house.  The rope binding my knees together makes for a slow journey.  I’m so impressed by her patience.  She could speed this process up by untying me but she doesn’t care.  I really admire that, even though it often leads to torment and discomfort and a sort of general misery for me.

We finally get inside and she pushes me down to my knees.  She unties my knees and arms.  The pain from the blood rushing back to my body keeps me immobilised.  My tits still bound the large collar, Katherine sweetly instructs me to get dressed while placing a large ring gag in my mouth.  I kiss each of her feet and slowly crawl out of the room.  I dutifully put on the embarrassing maid’s outfit she made me buy and change into some black patent stilettos.  As I walk back to the living room to be restrained by my young owner, I can’t help but dread the night to come.