I've Been This Way All My Life

I've been this way all of my life – the need and desire to be in control by being controlled. I never quite understood this sensation, nor the urges until I met my Mistress. She's helped me to fully indulge these longings.

A soft noise from outside my Mistress's bedroom door snapped me away from my mental thoughts. I crouched down beside the frame of her bed. You see, I'm in her room at the moment. It's covered in shades of blue and almost reeks of a feminine touch. The bed is completely pristine with the blankets coming to a rest exactly six inches from the head of the bed.

I quickly moved my body towards her clean, white door and pressed my ear to it. Nothing could be heard on the other side of her door – I gave a large sigh; I'd been so worried about being caught.

Standing fully again, I took the chance to take in all of her room. There was a vase of flowers arranged obsessively on the corner of her white desk. I couldn't find a spec of dust int eh entire entity of her room. I moved closer to her desk, wishing ti inspect the contents of her drawers – maybe to find where she keeps all of the fun toys we love to play with. I pulled open the top drawer with a curious grin. The drawer appeared to be full of pens and pencils. There had to be more to this drawer, right?

Pushing the writing utensils every which way to get them away form my viewing pleasure, I was completely taken by surprise when I read the word “Journal” in large letters. Without a second thought, the drawer was quickly shut. Mistress would kill me if she knew I'd gotten in her things! I turned away from her desk, but, as is typical with secrets, I couldn't hold my attention away for long. My curiosity drifted right back towards the oblong drawer. My fingers slowly grasped the wooden handle, pulling it open once again to reveal the soft caress of forbidden torment. Slowly reaching my fingers to grasp the binding of the journal, I reconsidered what I was doing. Wouldn't she become mad? So mad that she'd stop being my Mistress? All doubts were shoved from my mind as, with avarice, I gripped the binding of the small book.

I pulled the diary into my soft hands, taking extreme care as I opened the journal tot the first entry, almost sighing from the comfortable noise of crumbling paper.


Slave was a little bitch today. As usual, he deserved punishment and a lot of it. His attractive appearance while he was cleaning out his boxes of old stuff aroused me to the point of wetness. When he sweats, I desire him even more drastically. He needed to be punished for making his Mistress dripping wet."


I shut the book quickly. What was I doing? These were my Mistress's innermost thoughts! I shouldn't be impeding on her private life! I cringed. Still, the urge to read what she thought of me taunted my fingers until they opened the journal – almost of their own will.


Of course, I got my revenge on him later that night. I pulled him away from a family dinner. Once in the hall, it being only a room that borders the dining room, I pushed his nubile body roughly into the hard constraints of the wall. His shoulders hit squarely against the white textured wall as he bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep from making a sound. As much as I tease and taunt him, I know it's pretty damn hard for him to be quiet. I bit onto the silken skin of his neck, feeling his pulse only centimeters under my lips. I dragged my tongue up to his ear, purring slightly. “You little fuckin' bastard. Aren't careful where you throw that pretty damn ass of yours, are you?” With those words still ringing in his ear, I reached around his body and laid a hand against his ass, squeezing it, making sure to gently dig my nails into his skin. He's a little bitch - he deserves it.


I shuddered with pleasure, feeling the blood in my body rush to more useful places. I remember that sensation. I felt so violated. So aroused. So secure. God, Mistress writes all of our exploits down? Even reading of our own past en devours was creating the nagging arousal to create new ones. I could bare contain it. I remember that night. It’d felt so nerve-wrecking. After all, my parents were only in the other room. My entire family. What if they would have come into the room? They’d have found out. Luckily, they hadn’t. I can remember my cock coming to life, hard enough to the point where it hurt it have it constrained in my jeans.


He’s such a little bitch. I mean really. After I started nibbling on his neck, the little whore begged and pleaded to have his dick let out of his pants. He said it “hurt”. I laughed at him quietly into his ear. “Your parents are in the other room and you want to get naked right here and now?” He nodded with his eyes downcast onto the floor. “Yes Mistress”, he replied. “Yeah, well, life doesn’t go on what the hell you want.” He nodded again as his breath caught into his throat. It always amuses me. The right spoken words can make him cum in his pants. I know, I’ve done it before.


I tore my eyes away from the words that swam on the page. My mind started to reminisce about the time she’s caused me to ejaculate in my pants. We’d been out at a restaurant, pretending to be on a date, as Mistress has said she had something new to try. The idea of new ideas scared me, but I went along since Mistress is always right. We decided to go to a restaurant where the food was nicely baked, the tables were shrouded in darkness, and we were allowed the privacy my Mistress desired.

She sat directly beside me, her thigh touching my own. I hate to admit it, but even having her thigh touching my own was causing me to become aroused. We both glanced over our menus, and she smiled. I never did like that smile, but I didn’t disagree. It just meant that she had something planned.

“Ready to order?” Our waitress had asked. “Yes,” she replied, despite the fact that I wasn’t ready. Oh well, that’s not my Mistress’s problem, that’s my own. I felt as my Mistress’s hand snaked along my thigh to rest on my crotch. I tried to keep my voice steady as I ordered what I planned on eating for dinner. It was obvious to the waitress that something was going on when I interrupted a sentence for a large gasp, but I think she chose to ignore it.

After that, Mistress removed her hand. She continued to whisper dirty thoughts into my ear though, as my body become more aroused with every spoken word. Pretty soon, I knew I was on the urge of cumming. She knew it too, as my hand clawed roughly into the skin of thighs beneath her skirt. “Mistress-” I growled, unable to contain myself much longer. Leaning over to add the final touch, she purred into my ear. “You’re such a dumb little bitch. Doing whatever I say. Hell, if I said so, you’d even go under the table to eat me out.” With those words, I felt myself orgasm as I clawed into leg with a very loud gasp as my body tensed up. “Mmmm…God…” I spoke out loudly, noticing the look I got from the people at a nearby table. It had been such a -

Crap! I gasped out loudly as I heard footsteps coming up to my Mistress’s room. I quickly threw the journal back into her desk drawer as I shut the drawer carelessly. I sat on her bed and crossed my legs in hopes of concealing the erection that was now at a throbbing state.

Her door opened and her face was wide in surprise. “Why the hell-?” She asked, noticing me sitting on her bed. “Didn’t I tell you not to come into my room without permission?” She said in her superior tone of voice, trying to get a reaction out of me. “God dammit all,” she proclaimed angrily. “Fine, you deserve punishment..” She said as she went to a corner of her room, opening a dresser drawer to grab out a black whip……………….