Mornings have never been my thing; waking up before 10 am should be against the law, in my opinion. But politicians don't listen to me, so why would the sun? At almost 7 am, the intense beams begin to peek into my large bay window. I used to have black-out curtains until Ben took them down as he was an early riser and liked to look out on my garden while the sun came up.
The bay window in my bedroom was something out of a romance novel; it protruded out, giving space for a small bench that allowed me to read while also having the full sun and garden surround me. I had several different types of bird feeders that always caused chaos as the squirrels tried to nab a bite of their food.
Just when I'm starting to fall back to sleep, hiding under the covers, thinking about what book I was going to read next when the alarm goes off. I reach through the blankets to shut them off when my backup alarm in the bathroom goes off. It would continue to get louder until I turned it off. I curse the sun for being up so early and try to devise a plan to put the curtains back up to at least give me a few extra peaceful minutes in the morning.
My third alarm goes off as I grudgingly accept that it is time to face the world. Sigh, this one, at least, was playing music instead of the most annoying sound in the world. I turn off the second alarm in the bathroom and wonder where my tool kit is, as a hammer would solve some of this for me.
Yawning, I turned on the shower and waited impatiently for the hot water to kick in. Those minutes felt like they dragged on forever as I stared at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.
Standing just over 5'8", I have always been on the taller side; peaking at this height at eleven, my parents wondered how much taller I would get, but I stopped growing, thankfully. Being so tall and young has always given me a complex as the boys were under five feet during this time, so I felt like a giant. Even now, nearing my twenty-ninth birthday, I still can't shake this obsession with my height. I'm stuck on this trivial thing that shouldn't matter at all. 5'8" wasn't too tall, right?
Trying to get over my height issue, I look at my reddish-brown, almost maroon hair that falls past my shoulders. At one time, it used to go past my tailbone, but I found that with my extra circulatory activities, it would often get in the way of chains, straps, and other fun things.
Continuing to look at myself, I see the eternity collar snugly encircling my next, resembling a tight choker. When Ben returned from his travels a year and a half ago, he secured it around my neck. A tiny screw clasped it shut so only he could remove it with a unique tool. It was now a permanent fixture that I hope is never taken off me.
Continuing to smile at the collar, I take note of my fair, pale skin, knowing that even a mere glance from the sun would turn me from pink to lobster in a heartbeat. Sunscreen becomes my best friend, my saving grace, as I quickly burn without a healthy amount of it. I was so happy when I found some Koren sunscreen that felt like lotion instead of the greasy stuff that is so popular in the States.
I move on to my physique, where my petite breasts catch my attention. Their small size has always been a source of self-consciousness, as I barely fill an A-cup, but the nipple rings make them look cute, so they have that going for them. Speaking of my physique, I have been blessed never to be heavy or thin; my DNA helps me stay at a healthy weight without much effort. I say a small prayer that never changes.
My gaze travels downward, and there it is—a custom-made chastity belt crafted from leather and steel. Its polished surface reflects the light, with a sturdy lock ensuring its permanence. Adjusting to the daily wear of the chastity belt took time, but now it has become a routine. However, I have the privilege of temporary respite on weekends, granted under strict permission and supervision. The tight bands encircling my waist hold it securely in place, effectively preventing any form of self-pleasure. I try to think back to the days before wearing it when I could touch myself whenever I wanted and like it better like this, as it kept me in a state of near horniness as the act of denial turned out to be a turn-on for me.
The shower is finely lava hot, the only temperature a shower should be. I step in, allowing the near-burning water to cascade over me, enveloping me in pure bliss. I wash my hair, feeling the lather as it cleanses my strands. Today I decided to use my coconut conditioner, which makes me think of the beach. Wishing I could be under an umbrella on the hot sand instead of staring at a computer screen all day.
Knowing the beach was not in the cards today, I finished washing my hair, savoring my daydream of ocean waves. Grabbing my goat milk soap bar, my personal favorite, which leaves my skin feeling soft and smooth. I hold my fluffy loofa and create a rich lather to shroud myself in bubbles.
Sometimes, I catch a reflection in the corner of my eye and can't help but give a small, hopeful smile to the camera mounted there. Ben had them installed throughout the house when he was stranded in Europe during the pandemic, a way for him to be close and see me at all times, even from afar.
Once my shower is complete, I dry myself off, wrapping the towel around me and folding a corner into itself so it doesn't fall off. I brush my teeth and look at the clock to see how much time I have left until Ben calls. He calls every morning to check in on me and help me decide what to wear for the day. Once dry, I apply lotion as far under the high-waisted belt as my fingertips can reach; being chafed was always put a damper on any activity.
A minute before eight, a text message arrives.
"Good morning, my sweet girl. I won't be able to call you today. Wear black and red."
A smile spreads as I read his words, fully aware of his desires and the precise image he wishes to see. I waste no time gathering the necessary items to assemble the requested Red & Black entire.
I begin by adorning my hips with a garter belt crafted from soft, seductive black lace embellished with intricate red lacquered embroidery. It fits me flawlessly, hugging my curves in all the right places, perfectly complementing the matching lace panties that leave little to the imagination. Slipping on the black sheer stockings effortlessly elongates my lengthy legs, adding an extra touch of allure. Ben always had good taste when he purchased any clothing for me.
Thinking of what I should do next, my attention goes to my pierced nipples, a special gift from him on our second anniversary. I go to my jewelry box and select one of my favorite chains. I delicately attach the silver chain that has a red rose in the center of the chain. The rose dangles in the middle, drawing the eyes' focus, making my nakedness even more prominent.
Moving on, I locate one of his crimson button-down shirts. The shirt descends close to the top of my stockings, teasingly revealing just enough skin. To transform it into a daringly short dress, I cinch it with a thick black belt at the waist, accentuating my figure. I leave the shirt unbuttoned enough so that my nipples are poking out. If I end up on any video calls at work today, I must remember to button the shirt up; otherwise, it could end up in an HR-type situation.
Slipping into sleek black 6-inch heels by Louboutin, their unmistakable red soles always make me feel sexy and boost my confidence. Once dressed, I run a comb through my hair, bending over and appreciating the curated outfit from behind, aware of the cameras capturing every angle. It's a small act of exhibitionism, a subtle reminder that I do all of this for him. As I straighten up, I add a touch of product to my hair, scrunching it slightly to add some volume.
Keeping things simple, I opt for a tinted moisturizer and a light dusting of powder on my face. I always thought it was unfair that women had to "paint their face" to be presentable, and Ben had agreed with me and told me he prefers it when I don't wear any makeup at all. Unfortuantually the rest of the world didn't agree with him, so he decided I could still wear a tiny bit as it helped my professional persona at work.
My heels on the tile floor echo behind me as I head to the kitchen. I reach for plain yogurt in the fridge and a fresh banana on the counter, my go-to morning snack. I dip the banana into the yogurt, savoring each lick of creaminess as I run my tongue along the length of the fruit to capture every last bit. The kitchen camera captures my playful act, but there's no text message from Ben, no indication of his appreciation. Feeling frustrated, I take a big bite of the banana, discarding the peel and disposing of the remaining yogurt container in the trash.
I had decided to move to this area halfway across the country for my current job, enticed by the attractive pay and benefits. With no close family ties and a few distant friends, starting anew in a place where I knew no one seemed appealing. It was an opportunity to break out of my introverted shell and make genuine connections, even though the prospect was exciting and terrifying. The company transitioned to remote work a year later when the pandemic hit.
Not making any friends before this time, I embraced the solitary lifestyle of working from home as it seamlessly fitted into my introverted nature. It's as if my dream of a secluded existence has come true, even though I am never truly alone, knowing that Ben, my Sir, my Master, is always watching over me.
Shifting my focus, I go to the sunroom, instantly enveloped by its serene ambiance. The room offers a captivating view of the garden accompanying the house, stretching beyond the boundaries of the screened porch. I deliberately positioned my desk to face this breathtaking view, allowing me to witness the playful interactions of birds, squirrels, and the occasional bunny. Nestling into the custom chair specially crafted for me, I prepare myself for the day's tasks, finding solace in the natural beauty beyond the glass.
My desk chair resembles a modified knee chair, where most of the weight is supported by the knees in front of you while sitting on the seat behind it. However, this chair possesses two distinct knee rests, allowing me to sit with my legs wide open, a required position in Ben's presence.
The actual seat is designed akin to a saddle, providing comfort as my legs remain open, my pelvic area resting securely on the chair without slipping off. Its most intriguing feature is the remote-controlled vibration capability, a fun addition that sends subtle sensations throughout my lower body, despite the presence of the chastity belt. While the vibrations aren't intense enough to induce orgasms, they leave me breathless. Ben enjoys activating it when he sees me in a meeting, knowing that I must maintain composure on camera. The vibrations are discreet, causing no visible movement or telltale signs of pleasure, but they present a challenge, forcing me to conceal the sensations from my face and voice.