SERVING - AND SERVICING, CONTINUED

I'm continuing my last blog entry, mindful of the fact that a minute by minute account of the day would take a great deal of time to write.  Instead, I'm going to spend some extended time on the beginning part of the day, outline the middle part and spend a bit more time on the ending of the day.  It's important to remember that I had set aside this particular slave day as a day for being pampered, waited on, worshipped and sexually pleasured by slave Karl, and I had no intention of bringing corporal punishment into play.  I only mention this in case there are some female readers who refuse to bring their subs to the slave level because they assume that corporal punishment is always a factor in "slavery".  It doesn't have to be, and I can assure you that a high level of tease and denial with your "slave" servicing your sexual desires is available to you when your male is in slave mode.

When Karl returned from putting my shoes away, and took up his position at my feet, I untied his hands, stood before him and told him to recite his poem, kiss my stockinged feet, and then remove my skirt.  When he had done so, he was able to see that I was wearing a garter belt above my panties.  I told him to disattach my stockings from the garter belt and slowly roll the stockings down until they reached my feet, and then to remove them from my feet with his mouth and put them aside in a neat pile.  Another reciting of his poem when he was finished, and I ordered him to spend some quality time licking each foot and sucking each toe as I snapped my fingers to have him move from toe to toe.  I was lounging on the couch by this time, and thoroughly enjoying his enthusiasm and my own inner tingling.  When I was satisfied - and it took awhile - I had him stand before me so that I could inspect his now bulging cock and ball pouch, and I rubbed it a bit until he was trembling with excitement.

"Now on your knees, recite your poem once again and starting at my ankles, go from leg to leg, slowly kissing your way up to my panties."  I was now standing before him.  "Make sure you kiss each leg entirely, front and back, on your way up.  No licking, just kissing, and I want to see your reverence as you go along."  Karl did as ordered, his quiet groans of delight reflecting his excitement as he went from leg to leg, slowly up toward my panties.  Ladies, you really must try this.  I assure you that it's very erotic watching your man perform for you this way.  As he neared the top of my legs, I told him that when I snapped my fingers he was to bury his face in the crotch of my panties and inhale my scent - as well as feel the moisture that his kissing had produced.   After a minute or so of watching his face pressed against my panties,  I was ready for my first orgasm of the day.

"Remove my panties, slave, using your mouth, and pull them down to my feet.  Place them in the pile with my stockings.  Recite your poem again, kiss each of my feet once and get your face back to my pussy."  I laid back on the couch again, opened my legs wide and ordered "Now it's time to use your tongue.  You know what to do.  I expect my juices to explode on your face, and don't stop until I give the order."  He certainly did know what to do, I certainly exploded, and it went on for quite some time until I'd had enough.  What a lovely way to start the day! 

When I'd caught my breath, I admired his wet face, had him stand before me, and rolled his leather cock and ball patch down to his knees.  His cock was moist with pre cum and I rubbed my hand over it and had him lick it off.  Then I ordered him to get me a drink - a Mimosa, as it was still morning - keeping his pouch at his knees so that he had to hobble to the kitchen and back with the drink - a very amusing sight as his cock and balls went from side to side as he walked.  When I had my Mimosa in my hand, I told Karl to get into "footstool position"  ( he was very well trained in various positions).  This particular position had him facing away from me, his face on the floor and his butt in the air.  I put the pile with my stockings and panties under his nose, and settled back on the couch with my feet on his raised butt, enjoying the pleasure of champagne and orange juice as I contemplated the next part of the day.

When I was done with my drink, I had Karl return the glass to the kitchen and wash and dry the glass and put it away.  When he returned, I pulled his pouch back into place and gave him 3 minutes for a bathroom break and permission to drink whatever water he could.  Not much time, I know, but it was great fun to see him running to the bathroom and then to the kitchen for his water, and finally racing back to his position before me.  Slave Karl had not spoken a word all day, and it's a very powerful feeling (for me, at least) to have a silent slave following my orders and going through whatever hoops I care to use.  An "A" personality, such as Karl in his "normal" life, is used to talking to others and giving orders when he deems necessary.  He has assured me that being forced to remain speechless is very hard for him and invariably gets him deeper into sub or slave space in his head.  Which, of course, pleases me greatly.

Now for the "outline part of this entry:  In the ensuing hours, Karl would make lunch for me (yes, I allowed him some scraps for himself), give me a complete pedicure, shave my legs (licking each one to assure there was no stubble), draw my bath and wash my entire body (always arousing, and forcing him to put his head partially underwater to lick  my pussy and ass and bring on another orgasm for me), recite his poem many times, and have his cock and ball pouch grabbed and rubbed nearly to the point of losing his control.  Note the word "nearly".  I loved edging him, and forcing him to remain in a highly charged state. 

I did have an afternoon nap, and to keep Karl busy I had an especially mindless and tedious task for him to perform.  I gave him a notebook with lined paper, a pencil and pencil sharpener, sat him at the foot of my bed, and told him to start at the number 10,000 and write each number below it on the paper.  9,999, 9,998, etc.  I wanted neat numbers, carefully aligned with the number above it, in three columns per page, front and back, until I awoke.  He gave me a look of disbelief, and I quickly told him that if I saw any "attitude" on his part, I'd make him use crayons.  I advised him that I had tried this myself to gauge the proper speed, and that 25 numbers per minute was the least I expected.  "So, slave, if I sleep for an hour, I want to see at least 1500 numbers written.  I'll do the math when I actually get up, and we'll see how you did.  If you exceed 25 numbers per minute, and I approve of the quality of your writing,  I might give you a reward.  Now recite your poem, kiss my feet and get started."  And so I napped, and will finish this in my next blog entry.