Thread: If You Could Only See The Way She "Loves" Me.

I came up with this story idea randomly and wrote up as much as I could in my spare time to share with all of you. I figured since I haven't displayed any of my writing ability yet, I should come up with some sort of proof that I'm not completely terrible at roleplayingstorytelling. Due to the amount of time I have to myself recently, it's hard to come up with really long posts like this very often, so I included a poll. Even if one person wishes to read further and votes 'yes' I'll write a second part, but if nobody responds then I'll probably just let it go and not worry about it. So vote if you wish, and hope you enjoy the introduction! I can assure you this story will include a variety of different fetish elements, and I'd even be willing to take suggestions and collaborate if someone has any ideas. But anyway, enough OOC bullshit. . Fumbling with the small key he retrieved from his pocket, Adrian quickly unlocked the front door of the apartment and scurried inside with a number of plastic bags of groceries dangling securely from his hands. He shut the door quietly and moved quickly to the island in the modernized kitchen, setting the bags down and beginning to unload everything in a fast-paced manner, paying close attention to organizing every item to its exact predetermined location. He heard a slam upstairs that caused him to startle in his bustle of tidying up, a warning for him to hurry up with whatever it was he was doing and get himself upstairs. He worked with silent precision, sliding cans in perfect lines within the cabinets and taking care to wipe down the island before tossing the bags into a recycling bin. It was a strange thing to behold, really. Adrain was a man of towering height and muscular build, with piercing blue eyes partially dipped into by his dark bangs and framing, feathery hair. He had a strong look about him overall, but to witness a man of such physical prowess scurrying around like some frightened rodent was almost a saddening sight. It had been this way for countless years now it seemed, playing man slave for his revered and coveted mistress, but it was only he who served her. His mistress' tastes were unique and divine, and he took much pleasure out of fulfilling any desire she may conceive, including keeping her gorgeous apartment spot-free and perfectly in line. A second, more threatening slam sounded from the second floor now, which again caused him to startle suddenly. He scanned the kitchen and entrance hallway once more for anything left behind or unorganized, and straightened the jackets on the coat hanger before scuttling quietly up the plush, carpeted steps towards his mistress' room. Taking a calming breath outside of her bedroom door, he prepared his mind and body for the upcoming events and turned the door handle, shutting it tightly behind him. Without even glancing at his mistress, he hurried to the foot of her bed and fell to his knees, bowing with his face to the ground before her and planned on holding the position for at least a full minute though, he wasn't bowing for more than a few seconds before he felt a blow to the side of his head. Her booted foot had collided with it and cocked his body to the side from the force of the kick. I'm so sorry for my absense, mistress. Please forgi-- Adrian had begun to apologize when the boot that had just collided with his head was pushed under his bowed face and against his lips. The smooth, dark leather pressed hard against his mouth, silencing him for the moment as a shadow leered over the bed and his mistress peered over with a misleading smile on her face. Adrian... she hissed, her tone like knives slicing through his ears despite the pleasant smile curled over her exquisite mouth. Adrian, why were you not home today upon my arrival? Your mistress returned from work so worn out and couldn't find her pathetic excuse for a slave around anywhere! The boot pushed off of Adrian's face, sending him awkwardly off of his knees and backwards into a sitting position on the floor. He looked up into her eyes with a mixture of automatic respect and self-defeat, touching her boot softly and bringing it to his face to caress it gently to his cheek as he attempted to speak again. Please forgive me, mistress... we were out of a few things and I felt that I should probably step out to replenish them. I tried to hurry and surprise you before you got home, but the cab driver was driving so abnormally slow! I realize that I broke the fourth rule, but... His words were pathetic and full of dismay. He only hoped that she would understand his predicament enough to go easy on his inevitable punishment. The boot flicked Adrian's face and hands away as it continued to dangle in its lazy position over her stockinged knee. His eyes subconsciously traced along the tips of her black leather boots and up over her dark, silky stockings, lingering on the bit of thigh exposed between the top of the stockings and the hem of her corset. His mistress eyed him from her position on the bed, looking down at him with a narrowed brow. First you break one of my rules, and now you dare to lech at my body? I am not dressed for your pleasure, you insolent filth. Know your place, slave, and begin to repent for your mistakes. The mistress laid back on her luxurious, deep red bed dressings, hanging both of her legs over the foot of the bed and moving them impatiently. She stretched her arms behind her head comfortably, pushing together her mass of cleavage beneath her chin and speaking nonchalantly. Massage me.