I woke up at 9 am by my alarm and got up to have my own breakfast before preparing hers. I didn’t really need an hour though it was nice to take it slow as I was rather sleepy. I waited in the kitchen until the 09:59 on my phone changed to 10:00 and pushed the door open ever so uncertainly. I hate waking people because I don’t want to disturb them but when I very quietly said “Good morning, Mistress,” her lips curled into a smile. “Good morning, Slave,” she said. I don’t remember what we talked about but she liked the salad, noting it had something like a honey dressing that she really liked (yes!) I was surprised to find that kneeling next to the bed while she enjoyed her breakfast felt so natural and that I felt at ease.
We were going to film today and changed into comfortable clothes when she finished her fruit salad. She set up her camera in the living room and we took some test shots which mostly required me to sit still at the kitchen table. Following the script, her character told me I was going to receive the punishment of my life and I couldn’t keep a straight face. My inability to stop laughing became a recurring problem throughout the day, as I’m a terrible actor.
I liked the little moment in between shooting when we had to check the script and we leaned against each other. For the script, she was supposed to spank me over her knee and damn my butt felt sore from remaining cane marks. For one part, I had to try and escape, she had to pull me back and slap my face. The first time we tried the shot I escaped but fell on the floor which resulted in loud laughter. The second time, I escaped too successfully again. The third time, she managed to pull me back but I wasn’t facing the camera. “You know I’m supposed to slap your face?” she said wryly.
Being slapped in the face is like being woken up with a bucket of water; it’s a bit of a shock where you want to go like: what the fuck? Except in this setting, it’s more like… wait, what? where are we and what just happened? Which is strange because I fully knew she was about to slap me in the face. I wonder what it’s like in an actual M/s setting though.
Thick black belt
At some point, we took a long break. I made us eggs on bread with hummus and we sat out in the garden enjoying the sun. The next part of the film required her to wear a shirt that needed to be ironed. As the slave, I had to iron it, of course, but I told her I didn’t know how to. Before ironing her shirt I was a little scared of ironing clothes, which must sound insane (or really funny). When I still lived at home I ironed my mum’s clothes every Sunday and she had this fancy iron which couldn’t leave scorch marks if you tried. Mum made normal irons sound like you’d start a fire if you didn’t know what you were doing. She had a very specific way of ironing clothes; it took her an hour to show me the right way to iron and she very much reiterated that if I did it wrong it would cause a new crease and it’d be ruined. Conclusion, once I moved out I never touched an iron again and avoided buying any clothes that would require ironing. Roxy thought I was joking when I said I didn’t know how to iron and I get why now; turns out it’s really simple. Guess that’s another fear beaten, lol.
For the video, she was going to hit my vagina with a thick belt. She’d already hit my butt and legs a few times with it so by the time I had to open my legs I was apprehensive, to say the least. She perfectly hit my clit with her first stroke and I didn’t know how to process the pain. Prior she had said it’s hard to aim with a belt and I’m glad it is because I couldn’t have continuously taken the belt on my clit. She made some in-character remarks about how this would teach me to behave and I just couldn’t keep it together. I walk the fine balance between being exhausting for ruining shots and endearing because I’m laughing genuinely. My laughs, however, meant we had to start all over, which wasn’t something my vagina was happy about but it was literally my own fault. I genuinely struggled with this belt and Roxy had to start hitting other parts of me with which I tried to shield my vagina to get me to open my legs. Still, I also struggled not to laugh so every time I was about to I closed my eyes so repress it. When she finished and said it’d been 11 minutes I couldn’t quite believe it; clearly I had lost sense of time. My vagina felt like a portable radiator.
Tying her shoelaces
We went for a walk past the sea and waited half an hour in the queue for ice cream. While we were waiting, she told me about how she preferred to cook instead of letting her partner, as he doesn’t spice the food the way she likes. This is relevant because it made me feel less bad about making dinner. When we finally got our ice cream a seagull kicked mine on the ground and while she offered me some of hers I felt like she should just have it. Once the seagulls finished mine they appeared to be looking at hers, but she’d nearly finished it by then. I said I’d arranged the perfect decoy so she could safely enjoy her icecream. “The things you do for your Mistress,” she said dryly.
She took a lot of pictures in the graveyard and on our way back home her shoelace came undone. I realised I’d have to go down and tie it for her before she finished her sentence. I’m sure that a year ago I would have frozen and have to be made to do it but I was down sooner than I thought I’d be. I felt incredibly self-conscious about it as it was such a public and open display of my submission, but I pushed it aside and enjoyed the moment. “Would you like a second knot?” I asked her, looking up. It had the desired amusing effect and at the same time, while I knew I didn’t have to ask, doing so felt like very actively submitting.
The much-feared dinner
We got back at around 10 pm and she ran her own bath while I started cooking. As she was waiting for the bath to fill, I mentioned I had trialled the recipe on Thursday. She said it was very sweet but that I didn’t need to worry around her; if the food was bad we’d simply have some fun and if it was good there’d be slightly different fun. It’s funny that my dish then didn’t turn out right for her. It didn’t have many spices (or any, she’d say) but I really liked it. It was much better than it had been on Thursday and while I’m not the biggest curry fan, I really enjoyed this one. Eating the leftovers today, I do taste the absence of spices but better luck next time? At the ice cream place, I had asked that if my dish failed it meant she would cook next time and she laughed and said it would more likely be her watching along over my shoulder.
We went to bed at around 12 but before saying goodnight she told me to lay out her toys on the table in the living room before waking her up the next morning.
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