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Tables Don’t Talk

October 1, 2007

My Master had some business to take care of one morning during our visit, so i was on my own. i took my computer down to the very hip lobby of the very hip hotel we were staying in and thoroughly enjoyed having rare permission to read whatever sex blogs i wanted. Then i got a text message.

> I’m on my way back, order lunch to the room.

And a moment later:

> Dress to be my table.

i obsessed for probably far too long over the in-room dining menu, trying to balance taste (Master and i are both foodies) with practicality for eating off of a person. i eliminated the pasta as too messy, and the entrees were all dreadfully boring. i finally settled on a shrimp appetizer and a grilled vegetable sandwich with a side salad. i knew Master would be somewhat disappointed by my choices, but the menu was just not very amenable to the upcoming activity.

i’d stripped down to my bra and panties by the time my Master got back to the room, and apparently the view was rather enticing, as Master used my back as an appetizer, biting me all across and between my shoulder blades. There were hard bites and soft bites and nibbly bites, but mostly hard bites. By the time Master ordered me to strip off the rest of my clothes, my back was covered with red marks, my cunt was wet, and i was well on my way to subspace.

Clad only in my collar and 4 inch stiletto heels, i obeyed His instructions to lie on my back (ouch) on the long white leather bench. Starting at my ankles and working His way up, He bound me tightly to the bench with a long black rope. “Don’t move,” my master said to me. “And don’t talk. Tables don’t talk.”

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Room service arrived, and He set about laying out his lunch on me. In my memories, He is humming cheerfully. i don’t think He really was, but that’s the vibe He gave off – cheerful, purposeful, very much enjoying what He was doing. The salad was cold on my belly, the sandwich and shrimp warm. He paused to take some pictures, then sat down to eat.

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As i lay there, listening to Him chew, i have to admit that it all seemed a bit ridiculous. But lying there, ignored, feeling the tines of His fork digging into my belly to pick up His salad, i remembered His words. “Tables don’t talk.” i focused on that. Focused on being an object for Him, focused on being used by Him. Lying still, breathing shallowly, feeling the cold of the metal utensils across my pubic mound when He would lay down his fork and knife to take a bite of the sandwich.

He finished up, unwrapped me, then sent me off to clean myself up. When i returned, his leftover food was on a plate on the floor. He didn’t even need to tell me what i was expected to do. i knelt on my hands and knees and started eating off the plate, without using my hands. At first i fought to keep my pride, delicately picking up individual leaves of salad with my lips and tongue. i pondered the sandwich for a long time, before finally my hunger and my desire to please my Master overrode my urge for some kind of proper decorum even as i ate as a slave on the floor. And even as He took picture after picture of me.

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At least he let me wipe the goat cheese off the tip of my nose for the photographs. The shrimp was delicious, but have you ever tried to eat shrimp without using Your hands? It’s nearly impossible, and i lost any remaining sense of pride as i gnawed at it. Finally, i’d had enough to eat, and He allowed me to get up and wash my face.

i was already feeling very submissive, but before my Master left for His afternoon appointment He made sure i was really feeling my place, and remembering who i am. He ordered me into the bathtub, and – standing on the side of the tub – He pissed on His piss slut. In my hair, on my face, my chest, into my open mouth. “Stay there until i leave,” He commanded. i knelt there, a slavegirl covered in cold piss, until i heard the door shut. Only then did i make my way into the shower, to clean up and ready myself for whatever He required of His slavegirl next.

4 comments

  1. Impressive!


  2. Your submission sometimes leaves me breathless. Can you get any deeper into it, I wonder?


  3. swordfish – Wow. Thank you for such a nice comment. i don’t always feel like i am very deep into my submission. But i can see how it might seem that way from reading it from the outside – blogs are tricky that way…


  4. so many things to eat…

    and a pita too!



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