Falling out of the box.

I was before Him. Slave. No name, no acknowledge of being beyond Slave. The one thing I had missed in all of this. He allowed me to speak, beg, make promises not promised, but promised as much as I could with my last breath. I learned, even as I spoke. I had time to think, learn, hurt, and see. He listened. He answered. Again things I had so taken for granted. In the end, I was Red. Being Red never felt like such a gift as it did that moment. I was still His...for now. Pending feeling of, I had a lot of work to do, and I could only thank Him for the chance to do it. What a wonderful Master I had...no. What a wonderful Master I belonged to. I could tell from the smells of sharp green stalks of emotion, I wouldn't have been lucky with any other, but Him. For this, I couldn't thank Odin, He didn't live here. There was only Their devotions to the Sky. I was happy, She was above me for this. I kept...crying. I hate crying, but crying I did. It flowed like breaths of air. Breath, Weep, Breath, Tears, Breath, Swallow, Breath, Sniffle, Breath, Cry. I was so trying to stop. I was! It was a different flavor of Happy mixture of yellow sugar with a twist of tospit shame in self, but creamy like a new lesson thick and wonderful against the tongue. My tears were luke warm across my freckled face. This learned moment of emotions, like tospit custard. Its taste so different from the name, in a very pleasant way. His lesson. Get out of my box. I almost begged for a boot to help wedge my ass out of it. Or my head out of my ass. I think I would have really said it, but something told me....He would really do it. I wasn't looking to put grindy dust in my custard. Thank You, Master! I was tearing the box down, and its top was gone forever at the feeling...the burst of joy. Hot sticky sweet taffy melting at my tongue kinda feeling that makes you giggle as you try to work it down to a bead of ability to speak again. He...Master...He...Oh my fluttered heart! Said it sounded like the vulo's were well taken care of! Why did that statement, and not to me, per say, do this to me? There rolled a nice wet falling splash on grass. Baking custard with one of those crust that were buttery delicate.


I spoke with a Mistress for a while, from His side. She asked..about me. Being a slave. My feelings. Damn it all. Made my custard a bit more watery. Salty droplets dancing down. The Mistresses seemed to enjoy some water time. Making playful sexual innuendo's It was harmless, but wow, had me thinking from everything from long lances to tingled mint oil between my thighs. I had to ask. I waited until They, the Mistresses left, and spoke a few things on my mind. Master, I said don't touch, its not Yours to! He would speak to Him about that. He made it all clear. It didn't ruin my baked Custard of feeling, but it sure put in another. Find Him, beg Him to teach You to like the touch. Thoughts of splintered railing was clouding the thought of being taught. Sex? Of course, if it is desired by whomever wishes it. He left, I watched Him go. Its not about giving, its about..it just being taken. I, was, scared of myself again.