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Average Day

I wake up curled in a corner, shivering despite the blanket that was thrown to me. My mistake last night weighs heavy on my mind as I crawl to Master in His bed. I rest my chin on the bed’s edge until He wakes up. I can tell he is still mad, but I hope to correct myself this morning.

Master gets out of bed, and I rush to start breakfast while He showers. Today is a work day, so I know to make a light breakfast. It is done just as He enters the kitchen and sits at the table. Placing His food in front of Him, I hope for a good word.

When I get none, I am content to clean up the dishes. Somehow, because of my mistake last night, I know He will not take me to work today. That means the house must be perfect when He comes home. I begin to prioritize my tasks in the day ahead.

Today will be spent trying to atone for last night. I wonder if sleeping alone will be my only punishment. Probably not, I decide while doing the morning dishes. Sure enough, Master tells me He will be home for dinner. He tells me what He wants served and then departs, coat over His arm.

Even when He is gone, Master’s presence is a powerful one in this house. Each task is done slowly, methodically to exactly how He showed He wanted it done. I can not skip a single step, because Master will know.

I still wonder at the few quirks Master has. My mind roams over how they might have come about as I move through the house. Laundry is put in the washer. While the machine works, I dust and vacuum the house. Smiling, I also wonder how many carpets Master has gone through. As if in answer, I run over my toe with the machine and spend a few seconds hopping on one foot. Sticking my tongue out at the machine, I decide I don’t like its answer of, none of your business.

Realizing my continued punishment might well be to go hungry for the day, I drink extra water to fill my stomach. After carefully washing the glass, it rejoins the others back in the cupboard.

Before transferring the clothes, I carefully clean the lid of the washer. Again wondering at Master’s quirks. While the clothes are drying, I sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Halfway through, I chew myself out for forgetting to make the bed. I finish the floor anyway.

My next task becomes the bedroom. Making the bed, I hospital corner the sheets. Master never showed me this, but it is ingrained habit from my hotel days. I check for dirty clothes and put them in their place. Again the vacuum runs as I hum whatever songs come to mind. The bathroom is next. Where I wipe out the tub and shower with bleach water. The toilet gets a quick rinse with the water left in the bucket from the tub. After stowing the bucket, I wash my hands. Then I decide to brush my teeth even though I haven’t eaten anything. I also brush my hair and pull it back into a pony tail. Once my hair has stopped annoying me for the day, I clean the sink and vanity. Before I leave the bathroom, the mirror and floor get a quick check.

The grit on my feet makes me decide to sweep and mop this room as well. I am curious as to how this much dirt got on the floor in the first place. Using a hand broom in the smaller area takes about as long as a stand up broom in the kitchen. I use a rag to mop the floor.

My mind seems stuck on one particular song, so I force myself to find another to hum. Looking at the clock, I have about three hours until Master comes home. The dryer is not done, so I grab a school book and curl up on the couch to read my assignment. Setting a mental alarm clock for fifteen minutes, I sigh as I dig into the boring material. “Do business majors really need all this?” I ask silently before I honestly begin to read.

Glancing up, I can see my alarm clock needs tuning. Thirty minutes have passed. “Wow, that stuff was really slow!” I heave myself out of the couch and put the book away. I am lucky, the dryer is still turning.

I check the clothes and carefully fold or hang them up as needed. I notice that my mind has once again settled on the same song, and mentally growl before choosing another. With about an hour left, I begin the dinner Master has ordered. Looking at the recipe, I frown. Unsure if I can handle this one, I take a deep breath and read everything again.

Attentively, I pull all of the ingredients from their places and line them up on the counter. After double checking those as well, I set the oven to the stated temperature. Washing my hands with extra care, I delay the start of this task. With one last deep breath, I begin to make the meal. I am afraid to ruin it.

When I have reached the last ingredient and followed the last direction, I stare at the dish in front of me with trepidation and a little amazement. “Well, that wasn’t too hard. Wonder what it will taste like?” I shove it into the oven and set the timer.

“It will be late to the table,” I realize as I glance once again to the clock. Mentally kicking myself, I set the table. I hesitate, unsure if I will be eating with Master or not. “Best not to assume,” I decide only setting one place.

My last few moments alone are spent nervously checking dinner, taking out the ponytail and brushing my hair. When Master steps through the door, I wait in view by the kitchen. I want to hug and smell Him to see if I can figure out where He has been today. I also feel regret at not being able to go to work with Him today.

I can see Him smell for the dinner in the oven. He hangs His coat by the door and looks at me. My eyebrows go up and I wonder what He wishes.

“The house looks good,” He steps away from the door and into the living room. There He can see dinner is not on the table, but I am saved from harsh words by the buzzer on the oven. Master sits to remove His shoes, while I give a silent “Thank you” to whatever higher power intervened for me.

The dish awaits on the table while Master goes to the bathroom and cleans up. I stand in the kitchen by the hallway and wait quietly for him, once again nervous that I might have failed the recipe.

“Are you eating?” Master asks as He sits at the table. Relieved, I set a place for myself. My stomach grumbles noisily as I wait for Master to finish dishing His portion. Forcing myself to slowness, I take but a small share. I know He will allow seconds if I am not too piggish with my first helping.

I space every bite with a sip of water. I also watch Master for any hint of what may be in store tonight. I am slightly worried when I get no indication. Dinner is silent and I know that He still debates on last night’s mistake.

Dinner is finished and Master goes to the computer while I clean up. Over dishes, I try and reevaluate the mistake. I know I deserve a correction, but am uncertain how hard of one will come. After drying my hands, I get Master a refill on His drink and put it where instructed. I begin to curl up next to Him when He abruptly tells me, “No.” Startled, I look at Him as He finishes on the computer. After shutting it down, He turns to me and quietly searches my features for a minute.

This long minute increases my tension and I force myself to loosen my clenched jaw.

Master rises and makes His way to the couch. There He lays down, snaps his fingers and points to the floor. Quickly, I walk to where indicated and lay down, chin resting by His hand on the couch. My breasts begin to tingle and I have an idea of what might happen next. Master lifts His upper body onto His elbows and I quickly slide under Him. His head rests on my legs and my breasts hang above His face. I feel a tongue dart out and circle a nipple. It rises and stands ready. I gasp when Master takes it roughly into His mouth and begins to suck hard. Closing my eyes until my body readjusts to the feelings I run my hands through Master’s hair.

Master’s eyes close and His sucking becomes rhythmic as the milk begins to flow. In minutes that breast hangs empty and Master does the same with the other. This time, before He pulls off, Master gives a gentle nip that makes me yelp a little.

I wonder how His stomach can handle all of this as I keep my hands moving though His hair and over His body. I can also feel myself getting very wet and aroused. A cautious glance shows that Master is aroused as well. Suppressing a smile, I wait for the next command. I bend to nuzzle Master and He pulls away from me.

Hurt, I wonder if now is time for my punishment. Master is wearing a belt and He indicates that He wants it taken off. He pulls off His shirt while I argue with His belt and, on further orders, His pants.

I am left kneeling beside Master as He watches from above me. “All right, pup, let’s finish your lesson.” He walks to the bedroom and I crawl after.

If I had a tail, it would be tightly tucked right now, I think as I follow.

Once in the bedroom, Master has me close the door. He is sitting on the bed when I turn and face Him, still on all fours. My heart beats a little faster and I feel like hiding my head under my hands. Instead, I crawl to Master’s feet and press my forehead into His knee. He lays a gentle hand on my head and I allow myself to halfway relax. Master then orders me to fetch the leather flogger. I stiffen and deliberately crawl to where the tools are hidden. Picking up the requested item with my teeth I again crawl back to Master.

“Tell me what you did wrong last night,” Master orders as He takes the flogger from me. I swallow and whine, afraid to repeat the mistake. A small smile comes to Master’s lips. “You know your mistake last night?” He questions. I sense He is testing and simply whine again. “Speak, puppy, speak,” the command cuts through the bedroom. I whine and then bark. I can feel my face getting red, but am determined not to screw up this time. Master is pleased, and I let my guard down a little more. He runs His hand through my hair and gives it a little tug before letting the lock go. He then orders me to fetch something else from the tool pile. This continues for a while, each fetch broken by the command to speak. I feel like playing tug-of-war, but am afraid Master will see no joy in the game. So I make myself hand each requested item over gently and promptly. When I slip and retrieve the wrong item, or have difficulty carrying it with only my mouth, Master is prompt with the flogger. I feel its sting three or four times on my back, butt or legs for each offence. Each time I yip and correct myself. After the hiding place is empty, Master has me return each item. This time I must place them properly away using only my teeth and face. I find this a little more difficult and the flogger lands several more times. I am lightly sweating from concentration when the last ordered item is replaced.

I return to Master’s feet at His call. He orders me to face away from Him and I can feel the head of His hard-on dig into my legs as He kneels behind me. Unsure of which passage Master wishes, I lower my upper body to my elbows to make either easier to enter.

Master starts with my pussy, which He enters with a jab. I almost jump and a change my moan to a whine. Master’s hands move up and down my body and I brace against His thrusts. I can feel myself sliding along the carpet and am not sure how to stop.

Aroused, I begin to work my hips, which does not help the sliding one bit. My sensations are dampened by my worry about the movement away from Master.

Abruptly, Master switches tracks and enters my back passage. Again I force myself to whine and not speak. I can feel Master is close to cumming, and have pressed my head into the floor to try and stop my forward slide. As Master starts to cum, I push back into Him with my arms. When He is done, He lets His limp member fall from me. He kneels there a few moments longer and I stay still, unsure of what He wants next.

Master shakes His head and stands, “Think it is time for a shower.” Remembering just in time that I am a puppy, I crawl quickly to the bathroom in front of Master. I am hesitant, “I normally start our joint showers, but how is a dog supposed to do that?” Feeling better to error on the side of caution, I sit and eye Master. Master is watching me. “Wonderful,” I think, knowing He wants me to figure this out.

“Well dogs do use their paws to open and close doors,” I think to myself as I raise a fist to the lever. Cold water spurts from the tap. Using my teeth I pull the knob that shifts it to the shower head. Using my nose, and half in the tub, I adjust the water so it is comfortable. Task accomplished, I look expectantly at Master.

Master simply tests the water and climbs in past me. On His command I crawl into the shower with Him. Another dilemma presents itself, “How am I supposed to help wash Him as a dog?” The thought of soap in my mouth follows right on the heels of the first. Blech, I mentally spit. Master is already working His hair and I know I had better figure something out fast. I hear Him chuckle as I pull the washcloth from its hook with my teeth and paw the soap on to it. Using my “paws”, I soap the washcloth on my knees while sheltering it from the shower spray. That done, I let the soap fall to the floor of the shower and debate my next move.

Deciding quickly, I use my teeth to loop the washcloth over my fist and, trying not to spit from the taste of the soap, use that fist to work the cloth up and around Master’s body. I can’t reach all of Him, but am afraid to stand.

Master’s eyes are laughing as He takes the washcloth from me. He finishes what I could not reach and then orders me to get Him the soap.

I hope I turned away fast enough for Him not to see my distaste and annoyance. Grateful that the bar is not as big as it could be I steel myself and take it in my mouth. Master again chuckles at my face when I drop the bar into His cloth covered hands. I work on directing the drool from the soap down the drain as Master quickly re-soaps the cloth. He drops it onto my face when I turn it to the spray to try and clean out my mouth.

“Finish yourself and hurry,” He commands, stepping out of the shower. Still on my knees, I wash myself off and spit several times into the drain after swishing water around my mouth. When done, I crawl out onto the mat. Catching Master’s eye, I quickly shake my head sending water everywhere. “Hey, stop that!” Master bellows and drops a heavy towel onto me before I can get the steam up to shake again. I feel the sting of His hand on my rear through the thick cotton and wonder if I pushed my fun a little too far. A real dog would do the same thing, I rationalized knowing that, while valid, the reason might not set well with Master. With no other ideas on how to get dry, I flopped over onto my back and began rubbing all of me into the towel as it now lay on the floor.

Master gives me a quick swat on my butt as I pushed myself back to my hands and knees and peered at Him through my now tangled hair. “I think it is time for bed. We have an early day tomorrow,” Master says heading back to the bedroom.

Again I hesitate; the bathroom is a mess. Sighing, I grab the towel in my teeth and drag it to the laundry room. Then, still crawling, I return to the bedroom. Master is in bed, His back to me. I lay my chin on the bed and whine at Him. When I get no response, I put my elbows on the bed and nuzzle Master’s arm.

“Get up here,” He growls.

Happy, I slide into bed with Him.

“At my feet,” He instructs.

A little disappointed, I move to the bottom of the bed, staying under the covers. I hear Master’s muffled, “Good night,” before drifting off to sleep. My dreams focus on what may happen tomorrow and what has happened today. I do not sleep deeply, waking whenever Master moves. I rest, getting ready to fill Master’s future wishes.

– The End

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 16th, 2014 at 6:58 pm and is filed under Anal, BDSM, Sex Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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