Poetry by Jeff Green

72–Just_an_ordinary_Day.html

Just an ordinary Day

by cricketjeff on September 15, 2007.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

The alarm wakes her, half past six every morning. The cage isn’t locked, she can crawl out silently. If she hasn’t been locked in, or otherwise restrained, and  if her master is here she must wake him appropriately at 7. Although he isn’t she still follows the ritual perfectly. Roll the dice, a 3 that means a blow job, 1-2 for cunt, 5-6 for ass. That makes things a little easier getting her bum ready first thing in the morning takes time. On all fours to the bathroom, no standing until master is awake. Read the list, no punishment scheduled today so she can use hot water, always start with a shave, then wash and perfume as usual. Teeth cleaned perfectly (a blow job remember) now hair and make up. Finally two fingers make sure she is wet enough if needed and a little lube back there is a good idea, he likes that.
Now crawl to Masters bed to check he isn’t there. Seven exactly pull back the covers, just as if he was there.
Finally allowed stand, no reward today. Make his bed always bending at the waist legs apart, not how she was taught by Mum! To the kitchen. she knows what the list says to eat, but she reads it carefully anyway. Master has decided she should lose weight. Even though it did take him weeks to get the hint! Cereal in the bowl on the floor, milk, no sugar. No spoon or hands allowed so it isn’t quick. Bowl licked clean, then into the dishwasher. Check the time. Kneel by the side of the table hands on knees mouth open. Part of her thinks “No-one would know if I just sat down and read a book”, but she would know, write it down in the book and ask to be punished.
Eight O’clock. The list says masturbate for five minutes, don’t cum. this is important, the only time today she will be allowed to touch herself, apart from cleaning up after the loo of course. He insists she does it properly, teetering on the brink for almost half the time today. Stopping is SO hard. Now roll the dice again.
A two. Two items of clothing today, coat and shoes are allowed out of doors and she can keep the shoes on at work. But which two items. All her dresses are short and tight, and anyway her panties don’t actually cover anything so it’s dress and bra today, a three would mean stockings of course, he will be cross she rolled a two.
Final check on the make-up, open dress to pinch nipples hard he likes them to be tender, they stand up more that way. Shoes and coat in hand she goes out the door.
It is hard just being herself, not that she is ever really not a slave, but she has a job and must keep to it. Her master insists. Shoes and coat on and into the car. Her colleagues have wondered about the changes she has made, very revealing clothes, a much quieter manner, but above all she is almost always happy at work.
There is nothing to be said about her working day. It is just that except that every trip to the loo she is careful to touch herself as little as possible, well except to punish her nipples to make them stand and and ache all day.
She finishes late, that means she wil be late home, and black marks in the punishment book, six minutes today. These are adding up, will she receive all the punishment at once or spread over days. Shoes and coat off before entering the house. Meals to prepare, there must be food for master, should he come today.
Seven O’clock. Must be nude before seven thirty, or dressed as directed. She checks the list. Collar cuffs and plugs. The collar and cuffs are easy, not the silver ones, only Master can fit them to take her out. Not the heavy brass ones, replicas or Slave restraining devices from two hundred years ago, they are only for punishment, buckle the leather as tight as she dares. Now back to the dreaded dice. First a five and then a six. The two largest dildos, at least she can choose which goes where. She has taken too long getting cuffed, her cunt is as wet as a bath the number six will be no trouble but it is a struggle to lubricate and fit the number five in her arse. She gasps aloud but manages to seat it properly. A set of staps will hold them in place until time to prepare for bed.
Back to the food, Master’s on the table, hers in a bowl on the floor. It takes almost an hour to eat, and is cold and congealled before she is satisfied her bowl is clean enough. Master’s food is thrown away untouched. Lovingly prepared and vastly more tasty than the meal she had for herself.
Kneel and wait. Nine O’clock. Ten O’clock. Time to wash and clean herself inside and out. Check the list. Still allowed hot water.
Bathed and with a fairly small enema held in place with a plug she lovingly writes the day’s events in the diary, including all her misdemeanours, however small. There will be many strokes when her master is there.
A final rinse inside and out, check the master bedroom is ready in case he should come.
Eleven O’clock time to shut herself in the cage, according to the list.

As she curls herself under the coarse dog blanket that is all she is allowed she muses how good her life has become since becoming a slave.

Ah yes she thinks, I’ll have to start looking for a master soon…

Author notes

I don’t write prose, this will probably tell you all why. I quite like my attempts at erotic rhyme. I don’t know what to make of this.