Reading Time: 5minutes From the gym, I crawl, a wet sniveling mess to my pallet at the foot of your bad, in my misery curling into a fetal position. Wishing the world would end right now... in Your disfavor.
Hi. Elaina here. Mistress is tired of writing so I’m giving her a break and thinking that I can do this more justice anyway. After watching her walk out the door, I allowed myself the little luxury of sticking my tongue out at her retreating image. Not that this made me feel any better, in fact I felt worse. Snaking my hands around to rub circles on my cheeks I wonder if I will ever learn what she’s trying to teach me, and decide that the learning process is too much fun. Going to the free weights along the wall, I choose a set heavier than she would have chosen feeling self-righteous. Singing to myself, I stand to do my curls. Flexing and releasing, I work toward the burn. Alternating sets of drops and curls, I work until my arms are shaking. Throwing the free weights down at the wall, I laugh at the sound they make. Grabbing my clothes I start to get dressed. Making a face at the zipper that got me into trouble, I sneak a peek at the lateral machine. As I walk by the blasted thing, my hit sends the bar flying. I laugh at the sound of metal as it clangs. Giggling gleefully my heart light at getting away with not doing those exercises, I skip out the door.
Skipping through the Commons, pausing to drop a liquid soap capsule in the fountain. Elated at the thought of all those visiting trustees seeing the fountain in all its glory, I snatch open the door of our Dorm and race up the stairs. Dropping a smoke bomb in the stair well, giggling hysterically, I slow my pace to give me time to compose myself. It would do me no good at all to be seen by Herself in my current mood. Regulating my breathing as she taught me, remembering the night that she HAD to teach me to help me through the pain; I concentrate on placing one foot carefully in front of the other. No one passing me speaks. They know something’s up. Smothering another giggle as Natoli arches an eyebrow at me. She’s another brat in training; but she gets away with a lot more than I do. A sullen look crosses my face. I think that it’s not fair that she has it so easy. Her Mistress is so soft and loving and sweet and caring…
I pull up startled in our doorway; you have been standing there watching me. Under your hard gaze all bratty thoughts escape me. I blush deeply as if your eyes could read the depths of my soul. You take my hand and draw me inside. I fall to my knees out of pure guilt and it’s written all over my face, I begin the breathing exercises to relax facial muscles.
So deep in concentration am I that when your hand flies I do not see it. The sting as the side of my face explodes in radiating heat. I slump to the side hoping against hope to invoke your mercy. Your hand grabs my hair in a vise and lifts me. This time I see your hand raise and watch it fall in slow motion, your eyes capturing mine with no hope of reprieve. This time your hand connects with vicious savagery. A whimper escapes through my closed lips. Your hand guides my head by the hair to the corner, the disgrace place. I stand helpless, slumped, posture terrible.
Pain explodes across the backs of my thighs. I feel the welt rise instantly. “Stand up straight and ready your confession and apology, you miserable excuse for a slave,” you snarl. I hang my head as the butterflies begin dancing in my stomach. I wonder miserably how much you know or suspect. I cringe and press my forehead into the cool wall. I hear the door to the bath open and shut with a soft click. If I had missed it before, I knew now how furious you are at me. Tears well up instantly. I always attend you in your bath, and to be excluded is a knife in my gut. Intensely painful but not always fatal. I spend a few moments crying helplessly into the wall, wallowing in my self-pity. The water stops running and I hear your voice. I raise my head and listen intently.
The soft mummer of another’s voice answers you. A myriad of emotions well up inside me. I knew that I am not the only sub you train, but I have always been the favorite, the chosen one. I have watched you discipline others but no one has seen me put through my paces for your amusement or my punishment. Tears trickle down my face as I realize that will change today. I question my actions, wonder how much I’m going to tell you. Shivering and holding the wall for support I realize that my only hope is to tell you the complete truth, with out excuses or explanations, with out whining or pleading, and accept your punishment.
I stand in the corner and listen to the intermittent sounds of water, murmuring voices and soft laughter. I count the ripples in the stone in front of my face. I count my breaths as the knot in my stomach grows and hardens. I become frantic to confess every tick of the clock stretching and slowing down. The tears dry and become scratchy track down my face. It feels like I’ve been here forever and yet not long enough. Resentment for the sprite attending your bath grows in my breast, hating her for being where I want to be, hating myself for these unwarranted feelings. Seized by the determination to get through this gracefully, I begin breathing. Concentrating on drawing every breath form the bottom of my diaphragm and releasing it through flaring nostrils. “Grace,” I breathe over and over. When the door opens I jump a foot even though I’ve been trying to relax. The fact that it is not commented on brings fresh tears to my eyes. I have ceased to amuse you with my reactions. I strain my ears to hear you getting ready. The smell of perfume, the wisp of the hairbrush as it’s drawn the length and down, the settling of silk whispering intimacies as it caresses every curve. The curiosity consumes me, as the identity of your new sub remains unknown.
“Go Shower.” The sound of your voice shatters the silence. “No hot water.” I groan. But not even that is noticed. I remind myself, Grace, and walk quickly into the bath not shutting the door. Spinning the cold knob and gasping from the icy spray, I step into the shower. I rub and soap and shiver. Finishing as quickly as possible. I step from the shower, my ears straining for any sound.
The absolute silence stops my very breath. I rush out into the room to be met with the emptiness of a tomb. Falling to my knees, I bury my face in my hands and sob piteously.
I crawl, a wet sniveling mess to my pallet at the foot of your bad, in my misery curling into a fetal position. Wishing the world would end right now… in Your disfavor.
To be continued…
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