I’ve been sweating out Blackie & Marc’s reactions to my recent failure… I know they know. I sent my emailed confession, and they check the blog and my NF messages at least daily when they are away… But so far, they’re letting me stew in worry and anxiety.
In fact, they have not contacted me at all about their return date (last I heard, it could be any time between now and Monday night) and I’m supposed to pick them up at the airport.
Their silence is deafening.
Or at least it was.
Marc’s broken his stoic vow by sending me a link to this image and just four words: your Ass Is Mine.
He probably didn’t even have to say those four words, a picture being worth a thousand of them and all. But I suppose he didn’t want any ambiguity about which hole he’d be using.
So now the anxiety of the unknown has been replaced by the anxiety of knowing. At least as far as Marc goes; Blackie still has me suffering under his silence.
Intellectually I know that both are applying techniques to heighten my anticipation — but this knowledge does nothing to stem the fear. My throat gasps as if a hand was there choking, my breasts heave in response. And my asshole quivers in fear.
I hear people talking about how things never live up to their expectations, but this is one time where I don’t think I’ll be so lucky. Maybe it’s because I’m betting my ass, and my ass is always a sore loser.
Tags: anal, BDSM relationships, big breasts, fear, pain not pleasure, power play, serving
[...] far all I know I know from Marc — and aside from his promise-threat, all I’ve heard it that they won’t be home until the middle of the week at the [...]