Being his little whore

He wanted his whore today.
Which has its advantages.
His whore's nose doesn't need blowing.
As opposed to his little girl's nose.
Or his emotional pet's nose.
There was none of that.
No crying.
No mooning.
No mourning the fact that this was our last Tuesday.

Which doesn't necessarily mean we won't have long visits any more. He says that quite a number of my Saturdays will be devoted to serving his pleasure. But no more regular thing.

I'm not worried, though.
I'm really not.
I feel calm.
Secure.
Treasured.
Happy.

And tomorrow I start my new job for real.
I start my job,
and my brain is waking up from its SADdened stupor,
and Daddy was VERY understanding about the effect of the SAD.

He challenged me today.
He said he wanted his whore.
Focused.
Detached
Working for him.
Working for his pleasure.
But he wanted to see me struggle.
And he's a tease.
He is.

So while I was trying to stay focused and detached, he was saying things with his mouth... with his lips... with his tongue... and he gave me that happy, contented smile when I said how hard it was not to yield to my feelings...

I hear Allison Krauss...

"You say it best when you say nothing at all."

And after.

After he came, which he badly needed, we sat and talked for a long time. About the holidays, and his hometown, and an old friend, and developing plans for him to share me with a Dom friend of his. With the Dom and his male sub. And about the possibility of taking me away to a beach town, and whether he'll let me sleep between his legs with my mouth by his cock.

[she sighs happily and wriggles at the thought]

And about the absolutely perfect framed print that he gave me for my office.
The print that was his.
Actually, it's still his.
Which is even better.
It will be his presence in my office.
There's no face in the picture.
But I'll feel his eyes on me,
as if the frame contained a small hidden camera.
So he can keep his eyes on his property.

On his treasure.

I am his treasure.

And he is my everything.