Dark Eyes Pt. 01

Dark Eyes part 1

Pat Annon © 2020

Dark inescapable eyes, I fought the need to look away. I failed. I could not endure her eyes close upon me. I knelt and found the cold comfort of the floor. Head down, her presence enveloped me.

"Why are you here in my way?"

"To serve you, Mistress, in any way that pleases you." I kept my head to the floor. I daren't look up.

"This is tiresome. I am no interested in micromanaging your life. Go sit in the closet until you know what to do. That's it, be off with you now."

I didn't know at all what to do, what she wanted, what I am somehow supposed to intuit, "Yes, Ma'am." I kept my head low and crawled off toward the hall closet.

"No! Not that one! The broom closet, under the stair. I don't want to see or hear from you until you know what to do."

I looked up. Her long finger pointed at a small door under the stair. She has just returned from her morning run. Her sissy maid let me in. I waited for her in the hall as he instructed. I did everything as instructed. I arrived on time. I waited in the hall. I got on my knees when she entered. Now I am crawling to the closet.

The broom closet was just that, a small space with barely enough space for the upright vacuum. Only 4 feet high, I couldn't stand and there was not enough space to sit. I picked up the vacuum and held it on my knees as I folded myself into the space. With effort I wedged my fingers under the door for leverage; I finally succeeded in getting the door closed. I heard it latch before I realized the was no opener from the inside.

Dark and trapped, unsure what to do, all I wanted was to experience wearing her collar, to be punished at her hand. I had these fantasies. Seeing her I thought all my fantasies might come true. I wanted to have her do all those twisted things I've read about and seen in porn: women who are dominant, who make men suffer at their hands. I wanted her to do those things to me.

But now I am in this closet. I have no idea what she wants, and she won't tell me. I leaned against the back wall; the vacuum heavy on my knees. This is not what I want. I want her to do what I want.

God, it must have been an hour. I can't stretch, or even move very much. My butt hurts. I can lift myself off my tail for a while, but my thighs begin to burn with the stress. And now I really need to pee. She said she didn't want to hear me. I don't know what to do.

Another hour and I won't survive. She is going to let me die in here. I have to urinate. I can't make a mess in her house. What am I going to do? My neck is killing me.

I met her at the farmer's market last week. She had a young man in tow. I mean, she had a young man on a leash clipped to a leather collar on his neck in tow. She was amazing, regal, imperious, yet so friendly. She spoke to me.

I remember her words exactly, "Ah, I see you like what you see." She held the leash out as if I might take it. I could not take my eyes off it. I imagined the collar on my own neck. I imagined following her; watching her hips as she walked. I swallowed.

"I do, Ma'am. I do."

"A man of few words, I like that. If you would like to know more about this leash, come to my home on Saturday at 9:00. Is that convenient for you?" She offered a business card.

"9:00 Saturday. Thank you, Ma'am."

That is how I wound up in this tiny closet wedged between the shelf above and the vacuum on my lap. I can't feel my feet. I have to move. If I shift my hips towards the door, I can unfold my knees a little. I leaned against the back wall. That's better. My feet tingle. That means there is blood flow. God, I need to pee.

I hate her. Why did I even agree to show up here? Now I'm stuck in this closet. Sometimes I think I can hear someone pass by, but no one helps me. Should I call out? She said she didn't want to see or hear me until I knew what to do. I have no idea what I should do.

OK. I now have to go really bad. I wonder if there is a cup or pail I can use. The vacuum has a crevice attachment. If I put my hand on the open end, I could use that.

So, now what? I have a tube of pee stopped by my hand. What can I do? I have nowhere to pour it out. God, my back hurts. It's getting hard to breath.

Survivalist drink their own urine. I could drink it and get rid of it that way. I don't want to, but where else can I get rid of it? I can't make a mess in here, not in her house. Why am I here?

I drank it. I put the narrow end of the attachment into my mouth as far as I could get it and I let it flow. I almost choked, but I got it all down. It was awful. I held my breath so I wouldn't smell it. I want to vomit.

It must have been hours now. Everything just hurts. My knees may be locked in this horrid position. What does she want of me? Does she even care? I must not matter for much except to suffer in this broom closet.

I'm going to die in here. In her dark eyes, I am already dead. I forced myself to take a deep breath and a shudder went through me. I started crying. Tears came; I could not stop them, nor would I if I could. It's like something broke inside me. I felt it deep within; my total existence has no significance. It felt right to cry and to die for her, for those eyes.

I shifted and leaned my shoulder against the door. I heard a click and the door swung open. The latch was magnetic. It was never locked. I looked out.

Voices. I head voices coming from the room to the right of the stair. It was painful, but I extricated myself from my prison. It hurt to unfold my knees. I put the vacuum on the floor and crawled out. As quietly as I could I returned it to the closet and closed the door.

I wasn't sure I could even stand up. My back ached. It was awful. I crawled to the archway, toward the voices I heard. She saw me first. There were two other women seated there. She pointed to the floor at her feet.

She reached down and lifted my head. I looked up and saw her nostrils flair for a brief instant. And her eyes, I saw the whites of her eyes. Suddenly she leaned forward in her chair. She licked the tracks of the tears on my cheek. She said, "You may come back tomorrow morning at 9:00."

I crawled to the door, pulled myself up using the door handle, and left.