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I would have posted sooner, but I was terrified. You must understand I am not allowed. My life consists of my complete service to my goddess. I am not allowed any independent thought. Let alone independent action. But as a true submissive I must serve. The thought of people possibly waiting on me in any capacity is maddening. Knowing that I’m being watched. Knowing that in a few hours I will be punished. But what choice do I have. I’ve trained for years to wait on not be waited on. What I’m I doing? My mistress can be very imaginative and cruel with her punishments. I’m sure she watching me now as I’m writing this. Her rage building. I must hope she understands. I must obey. I only know to obey. May she be merciful. Oh God I think I hear her. Oh God may I survive this.
Greetings this is the next morning. My goddess has allowed me to continue. So she has placed me in the corner and has ordered me to describe last night’s ordeals. She said it will bring her extreme joy to watch me humiliate myself. Explaining my better be accurate, she grabbed me by my leash pulled my face close to hers and repeated “accurate”. With that she punched me the stomach and left the room.
Accurate?… I’m here. I breathe, so I must have survived. She has broken me so many times. So many times she has left me a quivering mess. Crying like a child. My pleads for forgiveness, for mercy and Ignored. Accurate? I can’t even recall when my mind shut off. When I let go. When I separated from my body, from the pain. I only remember her beauty. The beauty of the rage in her eyes. I don’t even remember the words she spoke. The only memories I have are those eyes. Those beautiful, beautiful rage filled eyes.
The yelling, the insults the pain. It’s all a blur.
My last memory is of hearing the door opening of being untied. Dropping to the ground. Of feeling my collar tightening. Of being pulled, crawling out of the room of pain. Of the cold water being sprayed on my aching body. It seemed that every inch of me. Burned or stung. But no blood never any blood. She is a master of her craft I have to admit. Even at the top of her rage. She never loses control. Even her cruelty is calculated. You see she does love me ❤️.
Accurate? She knows dam well my mind was no where’s near that room last night.
You see. The imagination of her cruelty? The mind is the most sensitive part of the body. Well I guess I have to show her this empty iPad. And another night with those beautiful rage filled eyes.
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