Help Yourself with Me Ch. 01

I don't know what to do with my arms, so I just circle them around his waist and stay still. I was too scared to observe him when he just came in, but now the close distance forces me to check out his details. His eyes have a color that's too light to define, perfectly suitable for a serial sex offender. He doesn't shave often enough, with a spiky short beard at least two days old. I hope he doesn't plan to kiss me with that. I can tell he doesn't exercise much, but a good diet keeps him fit. There is still no discernable expression on his face. I don't know if he is actually emotionless, or just good at pretending. And I don't want to find out. I want to know Master as little as humans know God, so I will never stop fearing him.

Just when I'm about to say something after studying him, he reminds me, "remember rule number 12? You're not allowed to ask me personal questions."

"It's not about Master. Little Girl wants to know what made her the target. She was always cautious."

"You have high self-esteem. And I'm attracted to that."

"Self-esteem?" I never expected that to be the thing that costs my freedom.

"Yes, you're proud. And I'm here to make you even prouder. Do you understand?"

"It's a little too complicated."

"Then never mind. Now let me clean up my little pet so I can use her again."

He starts applying soap on my back by reaching behind me. Since my arms are still around him, we are technically hugging each other. He gradually moves down to my buttock and cleans my still sour anas carefully. He even squats down to wash my legs and feet, which makes me feel a little spoiled. I don't know if a master is supposed to do that, but I have no reason to intervene.

He turns me around so he can encircle me from behind and wash my front, starting from my neck and working his way down. When he reaches my breasts, I can feel his erection coming back and pressing against my waist. He stays on my nipples a little too long as if they need extra cleaning. I never believed nipple orgasms were possible until now. But just when I close my eyes to brace for one, his hands move away. My crotch is his last stop. He squeezes more soap into his palms and washes the area inside out, literally.

This must be the most thorough cleaning I have ever had. It's only fair if he enjoys this silky-smooth end product the way he chooses.

"You should take a piss before bed."

"But I don't need to."

"You do because you will be cuffed to the bed frame for the night."

He waits for me to finish peeing and leads me to the bed.

"I know you won't run away from your own place. But to establish a good habit, I still need to give you some symbolic constraints. I will only cuff one of your feet to the bed. If there is an emergency, let's say, if I have a heart attack, you can still reach for the key."

When I wake up in the morning, I find myself alone, uncuffed. For a moment, I'm not sure if last night was real or just a fantasy-turned Freudian nightmare. Then I notice something in my otherwise extremely tidy room, a white stain on the black floor mat next to my desk. It's the cum that flowed down from my legs last night. Then I look under me and find more stains on the bed sheet. So it was all real.

But life goes on. I have to perk up and go to work. I need to get as much done as possible today since it may be the last day I work without a plug inside me.