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This shelf is braced on the wall at a height such that, when on my knees, I can look up to it at a respectful angle.
From an envelope beside my kneeling cushion I withdrew a prayer card. At least, this is what I call it. I began in a low voice:
The Master is generous and shows mercy to those beneath Him.
This white dog, weak and needy, finds his true place
At the Master's feet. He responds to
The Master's call without hesitation. He performs all of the Master's directions
joyfully and without thought.
May the compassionate Master see merit in the
white dog's obedience and respect.
After repeating this three times, I slipped the card back into its envelope and spent several minutes gazing upon the Master's image, observing the hint of haughtiness in his smile, and his confident bearing. Tomorrow, I thought, tomorrow I would show James just how much I would give up for him, how much I wanted to truly be his dog. Although I would cede all decision and power to Him, this one decision, to give myself without reserve, lay entirely within my breast; within my very soul.
I slept deeply that night, and spent the next morning ricocheting between feelings of euphoria and a case of nerves that had my jaw clenching and my hands quivering. A couple of drinks toned me down somewhat, and I was able to think more rationally about the upcoming meeting with James. " Prove to Him that you are worthy to be on the end of his leash," I told myself. "Let Him know that you are ready and eager to be debased in any way he chooses." Ready, eager, and hungry for it! God, was I hungry for whatever he dished out. Ready to lap it all up!
The door opened and James gestured me in.
"Follow me." he instructed, and we headed down the hallway to the room with the chair. I drew quickly into his wake.
"On your hands and knees, asshead. And keep up."
I scurried along the carpet, struggling to keep up with his rapid pace.
James whirled on me. "I said to keep up, you fucking moron!"
I looked up to him beseechingly, wishing for his wrath to ease. Frightened, really. My countenance. I hoped, conveyed my deep disappointment at having been so stupid. The Master glared at me.
"You really are a worthless sack of shit. Did you know that, Jack?" James said, hands on hips.
"It's true, James. I know that now. Thank you. I guess I've always known it." I said, looking up into his eyes.
"Yeah. But you still thought you could run with a hot bitch like Stephanie. what a laugh! Whoooeeee! What a fucking Joke." James through back his head and laughed. "Hey, asshead, I've got your number direct from the horse's mouth. When I get her in bed, she's "Miss tell all." he went on with a sardonic grin. "She said she had half a mind to get up out of bed and watch some TV right in the middle of you trying to fuck her. Said she was bored silly. Thought you ought to know, little buddy. Us guys got to look out for each other." With that, James just looked at me and shook his head. "Okay. Get your motherfucking ass in there." he said in a low voice, and he threw the door open. I raced through the door on hands and knees. All I could think was that I certainly had some ground to make up!
"Get you clothes off, fuckhead." James instructed. "And forget the neatness. Just strip down and stand there."
I nearly tore my clothes removing them. In ten seconds I stood before James, shaking and afraid. I also had an erection. It was all very confusing.
James began slowly to remove the belt from his pants. I stood watching, entranced. It seemed I was to get a beating for my lax behavior. But my modest erection showed no sign of abating at the prospect of this. Surely, a good ass-whipping was called for, and I found, to my surprise, that I wanted to feel James's belt on my skin. I wanted to be corrected. I wanted to be trained to do better. This was how that would be done, it seemed.
"Turn around." James ordered. I turned with my back to him, my hands at my sides, and my head hung.