Gardening: Clearing Ground

Gardening: Master's Style

Part One: Clearing Ground

By

Jaielle Black

© April 2020

"I want the debris removed and put in the trash before I get back." Master waved his hand toward the patch of black dirt no larger than two parking spaces.

"Yes, Sir." I nodded.

"Get busy." He inclined his head.

I stepped to the edge, bent down, and gathered a few dry, yellow stalks in one hand, then moved to my right. The weight of Sir's stare pressed in on me, assessing. The butt plug he'd had shoved up my ass shifted. I stopped and clenched so it wouldn't fall out.

I jerked my head, glancing over my shoulder at him when he chuckled.

His gaze caught mine and held me in place much like a struggling fly caught in a spider's web. A bigger part of me didn't want to escape. I loved being under Sir's control.

"Before I get back," he said again and nodded. I knew that tone. He was already anticipating my failure and punishment. I clenched the butt plug once more. This time to inflame the lust forming in my belly.

I never took my gaze off him as he strode across the backyard. His black T-shirt hugged his shoulders and lean torso. His tight jeans showed off his taut round ass and long lean legs. As he disappeared through the wooden fence gate, got in his car, and drove away, I still couldn't make my legs work.

I was alone and naked. I jerked my gaze to the neighbor's house by the drive. A one-story ranch, the top of the windows and sliding glass door peeked over above the fence top. Tension knotted my belly. My pussy tightened and my clit throbbed.

I surveyed the rest of Sir's neighborhood. Homes sat on one acre or larger lots. His sat farther back than his neighbor's houses. The house on the opposite side also was a one-story ranch. No peeping Toms from upper windows, watching me as I labored in the patch of dirt naked except for my collar. Sir's property and every home along the street, a growth of thick evergreen trees separated the subdivision behind him.

I stood several more moments, listening for the presence of others. Other than the breeze rustling through newly formed leaves, his neighbors weren't around. Thank goodness.

Still, anyone could step up to the fence, look over, and see me. "They'd have to be at least six feet tall," I muttered.

I shouldn't be so self-conscious. Sir often took pictures of me in various poses and state of dress in his backyard and in the park across the road or along the riverbanks. But always early morning or evening on a weekday, never midday on a Saturday.

The shiver that ran down my spine was a mix of lust and worry. Shaking off my unease, I turned back to the broken ground. Withered stems, stalks, and leaves littered the broken ground. Bending, I picked up sticks and transferred them to the other hand to hold. I stood and stepped to the side. The butt plug shifted again.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. A rush of desire rooted me to the spot. I prayed I wouldn't lose it; the plug, and complete the task without coming.

With force, I controlled my need and moved in a straight line through the dark soil, my toes sank into the cool rich earth, as I bent down, picked up plants, and paused, squeezing the butt plug.

This isn't going to end well for me.

Sweat beading my brow and upper lip had little to do with the midday heat as I worked. Decay and rich brown earth hit my nostrils. I caught sight of the sticks a moment before I poked myself in the face. The other hand was full as well. Get your mind on the job at hand and not your need to come.

I looked over my shoulder and searched the deck area. Sir said he'd leave the trash can. I let my gaze roam along the back of the house and fence separating the yard from the driveway. A chaise lounge, two chairs with a table between them sat on the wooden structure. No trash can. I piled the sticks alongside the garden and swiped the back of my arm across my forehead.

I glanced at the fence attached to the side of the house then back to the garden. Get the can now or wait till I was done?

Lost in thought, I rushed toward the house. The plug moved and my thighs brushed against the clithood piercing. The need to come, for the last half hour as I'd bent over, stood up and moved through the garden, threatened to detonate.

I stumbled and fell to my knees. Juices ran down my inner thighs. I gasped for breath and pressed my legs together, hoping the pounding in my pussy wouldn't implode. Time ticked away, but I was powerless. I could move and come, or wait.

I tore my thoughts away from my body's need. Yet my wayward thoughts drug me right back. I'm naked, on my hands and knees, and a neighbor could look over the fence and see me wallowing in the dirt, embarrassing and...

My pussy clenched. I dropped my face to the ground. My forehead hit the cool grass, offering a small respite. "Stop thinking of being watched." I trembled with the thrill and fear of being discovered. Inching one knee forward, then the next, I steeled my body and mind. I would not come, and I would finish the task before Sir got home.

I grabbed the post of the handrail by the steps and pulled myself up. Gingerly, I made my way up the few steps, onto the deck, crossed to the door, and pulled the handle. The slider didn't move. I tried again. It had never stuck before. I cupped my hands on the glass and peered inside. "Locked..."

I shoved down my irritation at Sir. Though this turn of events wasn't really surprising. I planted my fists on my hips and glared at the wooden gate. I could rush through it and head into the garage through the side door. Maybe no one would see me. Fat chance. Although Sir's house sat well away from the two-lane street, anyone driving by could see me on the busy thoroughfare that connected two major roads.

I glanced at the fence gate then back at the garden. I had two more rows to go. My trek back to the garden was no less excruciating. What should have taken five minutes turned into fifteen. I stopped and reseated the plug. Lust curled between my thighs, coiled deep in my pussy like a rattler waiting to strike. Pain and pleasure from the butt plug strengthened into an orgasm that loomed over me like a tsunami.

Lost in the little world of torture Sir had created for me, I didn't hear him arrive.

"Look at how dirty you are."

I whirled at his voice. Instinct had me raising my hands, covering my breasts. "Sir."

"Fitting for such a filthy whore." He lifted his phone and took a picture.

His words and tone had my subsiding lust roaring to life. The desire to give him whatever he wanted overwhelmed me. Then I remembered his deception. I lowered my gaze and caught sight of my body. Mud streaked the inside of my thighs, down my calves to my feet. I lifted a hand to my face and shifted my feet. I was a mess.

"You said you'd get out the trash can for me," I said, changing the subject.

"I did."

"Where is it?" I glanced around the backyard hoping I'd missed it. Maybe he'd hid it behind the magnolia tree.

"How did you like finding the door locked? He tilted his head toward the house.

"I didn't. My gaze followed his. I bit my lip to keep from spouting off.

"But you did look for it." Light and lust shone in his eyes.

He was stalling.

"Yes, Sir." I swallowed the lump in my throat. I enjoyed his mindfucks when it led to orgasms or edging and orgasm denial. This wasn't one of those times, yet... "If I'd had the trash can as you promised, I'd be done..."

His brow arched. Disbelief washed over his face. He was right, I'd never have finished on time, but I wasn't going to admit it. "You're still not." He gestured toward the pile and a row of debris. "You should've searched harder."

"Everyone driving by could see me." My voice rose in frustration. I pressed my thighs together. Do not come. Do not come. Do not come. I was such a needy slut.

"I wanted to see if you'd do whatever it took to find the garbage bin and complete your assignment."

"What if I'd had to pee?"

"You have an entire yard." He lifted his chin, his gaze roving over the lawn.

I fumed silently. This wasn't the type of humiliation play I enjoyed, but damn if my needy pussy and ass didn't clench at the thought.

"Go get the bin and finish the job." Sir cocked his head toward the gate.

My jaw dropped. My gaze flicked toward the drive then back to him. "Where is it?"

"In the front yard."

I wanted to ask exactly where but knew I wouldn't receive an answer.

"I'd hurry if I were you. The clock is ticking."

"May I go through the house?"

"No." He used his stern Dom voice and had a devious gleam in his eyes.

My nipples hardened. I pressed my thighs together hoping to lessen my need but pushing against the plug and engorged clit amplified it.

I traipsed to the fence aware of Sir's gaze on me. I scanned the yard and road. Luck was with me. Taking a deep breath, I unlatched the gate and stopped. Sir's front fender sat inches from the fence, blocking my way to the house.

Muttering obscenities, I rushed around the passenger side of the car. I almost wept, seeing the bin sitting against the front of the house. I gripped the handle, turned, and moved. It was heavy.

Dread overtook me. I lifted the lid. Plastic bags filled the interior. I dropped my head to my chest. Pushing the can back in place, I noticed the recycling bin beyond it.

I lifted the lid. Empty. Relief washed over me. I grabbed the handle, clenched my ass, and moved as fast as possible as one could with a garbage bin behind her and a butt plug wanting to unseat. Rounding the car, I passed through the gate into the backyard. My progress slowed when the wheels hit the grass, but at least I was no longer flashing my voluptuous frame to passersby.

Would this be the extent of my punishment? Doubtful. Without a word or glancing his way, I stuffed the debris into the recycling bin, picked up the last of the dead plants, and dropped them inside, closing the lid.

"That wasn't so hard now was it?"

"Yes, Sir." I kept my focus on the trash. Anger and humiliation warred inside me along with the ever present horniness when Sir pushed me out of my comfort zone.

"Really? You love being watched."

I huffed. "Those cars don't just carry adults." I waved my hand toward the house and finally looking him in the eye. "What if I'd been seen? Filmed by kids, put on the six o'clock news. We'd be in trouble."

"Doubtful. I know this area. You need to trust me."

The words, I do, sat on the tip of my tongue. But I hadn't trusted him. He enjoyed seeing me suffer. I liked a bit of humiliation now and then, but not this way. Was that really true? My body's response said otherwise.

"The Main road is closed for a parade or march at the Park's entrance."

His smirk and chuckle almost undid me. I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping.

He took another picture.

"Stop," I blurted out. I was hot and thirsty and strung tight, swinging back and forth from edging to anxiety.

"What did you say?" His humor fled.

"Stop, Sir."

"Master," he instructed, his tone flat.

Yep, I was in deep trouble. I huffed out a breath. "Master."

"Clench that pussy and say it like you mean it, bitch."

"Yes, Master," I whispered. My impending orgasm gained strength.

"That's better. Take the bin to driveway, leave it there, and get back here, fast."

"Yes, Sir."

"Master."

Yes, Master." I did as instructed, closed and locked the gate, and turned.

He stood a few steps away, water hose in hand. He gave the spray nozzle a quick flick. The fine mist caught and hung for several seconds, then the wind whisked it away.

My heart lurched. I loved and hated the wily stare he pinned on me, and I smoothed a hand over my hair.

"You got mud on your face and in your hair." He threw his head back and laughed.

"Shit." I dropped my gaze away from the glare. I'd pay for the comment.

"Whore." I fixed my gaze on Sir understanding what he'd done.

Master held up a hose, water ran freely. "Let's get you rinsed off, you have clients waiting."

I shivered, unsure if it were the idea of all that cold water or the two men who waited by the garden for me.