Notes From A Dog by Anonymous

She told me in that slow,whispered voice She uses at times such as this, that i would be restricted from touching what isn't mine.  i knew what She meant.  This cock that She seems to seize and make Hers so easily,elegantly through word and gesture, making the space between us suddenly close and intimate.

A day passed and the discomfort grew .In a long meeting, i had to shift about on my chair several times, to ease it.
In the moments in which She crossed my mind, i felt instantly aroused. Standing on the subway train, holding on to an overhead strap as it rattled and swayed, i felt sure that the seated passengers, their eyes at crotch level, were able to detect my 'affliction'.

i am the the kind who can't help but wonder what it is that delivers this surge of kinetic energy across cyberspace. How it is that a voice, a motion a suggestion pushes me deep into a submissive robotic state that i don't wish to wake from.

She had begun to call me Her dog. i saw it as a fitting symbol of the one who acceded to Her every direction, stayed at Her heel, stood up and begged at the snap of Her fingers, lay down and was quiet when She directed it. A dog without a collar, but a dog who hoped to please her enough to earn one.

Another day passed and then, hard, swollen and aching She led me into a voice chat where She instructed me to slap Her possession 6 times.With my hands quivering, and her breathing softly across cyberspace in my ear,what followed was painful in a way i hadn't experienced before.

Dissociative in the sense that it didn't feel it was my own hand slapping at this cock, but Her hand.  Unreal as i watched this reddening shaft and heard Her laughs of satisfaction when every blow caused me to whimper. i counted and thanked Her. i bit my lip as i prepared for each slap,anticipating the cold fusion of pain and adrenaline that i knew would pulse through me imminently.

i looked down as my (Her) hapless cock as it was thrown left and right against my thighs with each slap. And then She said:'doggie, you may seek release tonight ,but only in this way:

find some time alone,strip naked in a bathroom or wherever you find some asylum, kneel down like the dog you are on all fours,and stroke yourself until you release. And dog, she said,you must clean up after yourself'. i didn't need to ask how, i knew what She meant.

'Yes lick it up',was her curt, but to the point instruction.
It was the next morning and i woke up early, after a restless night. As if in a trance, i went to the bathroom and stripped naked.Knowing i would have soon have to lick the floor clean, i used a sponge soaked in hot water,and wiped the floor as thoroughly as i could. (i deliberated using cleaner but wondered what toxic agents lurked within it then decided to rely on the hot water sponge.)

i knelt on the floor, hard, throbbing, relishing the thought that soon i would find release. And then something unexpected happened.

i didn't yet feel that this cock was mine. it felt i was taking possession of something that didn't belong to me. i paused for a while and then an idea occurred.Slipping on my robe, i opened the bathroom door, went along the hall to my home office and found a magic marker in my desk drawer. A blue one with a felt tip.

Returning to the bathroom, undressing and resuming my place on the floor, i wrote her initials on the shaft of my stiff cock, the letters slightly diffused across the ridges of my stretched skin.

This seemed more appropriate. i began to stroke. Images and echoes of words She spoke reverberated in my mind.That tantalizing stream of suggestion that wrapped me in deep submission filtered through me and i could not help myself from moaning quietly, every stroke seemingly  connecting to a word She spoke, a pause she might use to make a point, the  palpable grip of Her hand in my hair pulling hard as She said in a hoarse whisper,'good doggie,good doggie,'.

i knew i would not last long and in a series of shudders, suppressed cries and codas of whimpering,i exploded onto the cold  marble tile of the bathroom floor, a jagged pattern of a river that had overrun its banks. i could not help myself from slipping from my knees onto my belly, exhausted and grateful, heart pounding and suddenly calm.

i knew i had to still clean up,but that was a duty that belonged to another space in time.A moment that would come after i relived the last 2 days and the small brushstrokes that make up this portrait of my submission to Her.

When i eventually stood up, i looked down at my cock.Her initials were mostly obliterated by the friction of my hand.
Only the 'C' was still vaguely visible.