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The Morning After

December 2nd, 2003

It’s an amazing thing, the morning after. And I don’t mean the morning after a scene or even the morning after sex. I mean the morning after I’m punished. The morning after Master decides to take a firmer hand with me. To force me, however resistant, to show what a good girl I can be.

I’m always in such a good mood. I always wake with a smile. There’s always a little extra bounce in my step. I always strive that much harder to make sure everything’s just the way he likes it. I work just a bit harder to make sure he is pleased. And I don’t mean harder than when I was bad. I mean harder than when I was being perfectly good.

There’s a lot of things I never tell Master. A lot of things that are but a fleeting thought. Here one minute, gone the next. And I wonder if it’s true, that a girl’s heart is full of secrets. And I don’t know how it could be. Master knows me better than I know myself.

He sees everything. Even my thoughts. When I’m in trouble, the one thing I absolutely don’t want him to do at that moment, he does. When I’m rewarded, the very thing I’ve set my heart on materializes out of thin air. And he’s never wrong when it comes to either of those things. He plays me like a fine tuned harp and my mind, body and soul reverberate with love for him and with resounding joy.

At times, I can sense that he has become lax. That he is so pleased with my recent service that he is willing to let small things go until small things begin to build and become big things again. And just so I can hear that slight menace in his tone, see that ice in his eyes, feel him tense and become stern again, I will push. So that he will be firm with me and strict and hard on me and so that he will make me practice discipline and punish me and teach me how he wants me to act.

The other day when I was kneeling to ask permission to get in his bed, he told me no and I waited patiently. But when my body started to ache and I lost interest in sitting still, I started to wiggle around and look all over the place, totally distracted. He called me on it asking if I like to sit still.

Then last night when I was kneeling to ask permission to get in his bed, he told me no. I pouted a little and when that didn’t work just went on kneeling and waiting till he was ready. After a while, I got tired and my body started to ache. So I let my posture slide. And I heard him softly, firmly say “Sit up.”

He’s never done either of those before. As long as I was kneeling and I wasn’t leaning on the bed or wall or entertainment stand, then I was fine. He says he’s going to be harder on me. That I’m too spoiled. I’m looking forward to it. Anything that will improve my service for him.

There have been women in our short time together that have thrown themselves at his feet. They have begged him to go to them. To leave me behind and forget about me. And I used to get so angry. I used to wonder how anyone could disrespect themselves that way. But much worse, how they could disrespect our union. Now, I wonder, how could they not?

I sit and I think of all the things that he’s done for me. All the things he’s shown me. All the things I’ve learned. And I wonder how could anyone not love this man. And who am I to stop them from loving him? He deserves every ounce of respect, every ounce of desire, every ounce of love that anyone can give him. And I will never try to deny him that again.

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