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ResidentSadist -> RE: packing the suitcase to meet ResidentSadist (11/24/2008 11:31:50 PM)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: WinsomeDefiance
Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a slave who desires cookies.
At one time I underestimated my step-slave . . . hmmm, that does sound odd, perhaps I should explain "step-slave". When my dad was my age he was rather wealthy. He “bought” a 19 year old submissive and started a second family. When I say bought, I mean he paid a foreign attorney thousands of dollars to arrange a marriage with one of the secretaries to the president of Mexico in 1977. Then he paid this submissive for her term of service. She fell in love and stayed with him, bearing a child, my brother Erik.
When my father passed away, his submissive, my stepmother, who is younger than me, asked me to rule the family and if she could serve as my slave. I took her into my home and my bed. At the local munch we all stand up and introduce ourselves and/or partners. I did not think introducing her as my mom was accurate or appropriate so I introduced her as my step-slave. Which now leads us to the point I can tell my resourcefulness story.
My step-slave was going through the adjustments in adapting to a new Master and a new lifestyle. My father was a strict Dom in the D/s lifestyle, but he was not a Master in TPE. My step-slave was learning to be humble . . . and although she would obey, she could be a little rebellious about it at times. I would never say that Latin women have a hot temper because that would be stereotyping and we all know stereotyping is wrong.
I often chain my slave to the bed (or cage them) at night. It is a practice that has been in place for many years. The chain is long enough to reach the toilet. However, it apparently wasn’t long enough to reach the kitchen, which disturbed my step-slave because she was trained to have breakfast very early in the morning. I like to know where my property is . . . especially when I wake up and want to fuck first thing in the morning. Waking up alone to find a slave mulling around the kitchen with coffee breath is not appealing to me.
If I used a key lock on the chained slave, I would have to keep the key 50 feet away from the bed so she couldn’t reach it. So I used those nifty little combination locks with a 4 cylinder stack on the side of the lock. A nice lock, not too heavy and easy on the ankle.
One day I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of pans and cooking. I was alone. The slave chain was empty. It lay bunched on the floor with the pad lock open. I called my step-slave into the room and asked her what happened. She said she had been working at the combination and finally found one that opened it. She had that ‘cat who ate the canary’ look on her face. I told I had used the lock for years and no one ever got it open or even tried with any diligence that I knew of. She pronounced that I never told her she couldn’t remove the padlock and the fact previous slaves had not been industrious enough or the fact I presumed it was infallible was not her fault. I was pissed . . . but she right and she had not broken any rules. Then she asked me if I wanted 2 or 3 eggs that morning. I happily ate breakfast in bed with my nekked step-slave and bought a new lock later that day. I never did instruct her not to pick the lock. I figure that if the new lock wasn't good enough to keep her chained, she deserved some freedom of movement. It was a source of entertainment for her and I don’t mind if my slave finds a way to "have it her way" in undefined areas now and then.
Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a slave who desires coffee.
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