Pierced

Yesterday, Master took me to get my hood pierced.

We'd been planning it, seriously, for a few weeks, checking out parlors and prices, learning the ins and outs of VCHs.

In reality, though, this decision was years in the making. Master first brought it up in 2009, and I've been waiting for it to happen ever since, with a combination of horror and eager anticipation.

A friend on Fet, who used to be a piercer, gave us the name of a shop he knew,with a guy well-trained in genital piercings, who would take care of me.

Master didn't make an appointment: just told me, around 2 o'clock, to get dressed and jump in the car.

That's when the nervousness started.  

One of the things I most love about piercings is that it's like a giant mindfuck. The drive, the paperwork, the waiting give you a chance to work yourself up, to imagine how bad the pain will be; the sterile piercing room, all the pointy instruments set out on the table, ramp my anxiety up to 10. By the time the needle really pushes through my skin, it's a huge, orgasmic release of a day's worth of tension.

Halfway there, my mouth went dry; the back of my shirt was soaked with sweat, and my legs kept shaking and clenching, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I tried to make idle conversation, tried to concentrate on something else, but all I could think about was the needle, and how it would feel...

When we arrived at the shop, I shocked myself by getting out of the car before Master did. Me and needles have a love/hate relationship, and He's been known to drag me out of the car, like He was taking an unruly kid to get a shot.

I walked through the front door unassisted, though, and approached the counter. Talking was difficult, but I managed to squeak out something that sounded like, "hood piercing".

"Oh, I'm sorry," the guy--who I found out was the piercer--said. "I don't have my equipment sterilized yet. If you guys wanna come back around 5ish, I can take care of you then."

Back into the car. Instead of driving home, Master decided to stop at the nearby mall and hang out there for a while, to kill some time. My endorphine rush ebbed a little, but I was still excited and ready to go.

As we entered the mall, Master patted my head and told me how proud He was of me: not just because I'd finally got up the nerve to do this, but because I hadn't complained or caused a problem when the plans changed. He could tell I've been doing better attitude-wise, that I'm growing...And that made me proud, too.

We explored the mall for a few hours, and Master treated me to some presents: two new shirts and two ounces of loose-leaf raspberry tea.

Around 5, we headed back out to the shop. My fear returned as I stepped out of the car, but I noticed I was shaking less. My voice was clear and confident as I asked if they were ready to pierce my hood yet.

"Sorry," the piercer said again. "we've been swamped today, and I haven't had a lot of time. I promise it'll be done by 6:30, though."

Master decided we should go home for a while, so we told the piercer we'd be back at 9, and he agreed that'd be fine.

By the time we got home, I collapsed in bed, my body physically exhausted from this prolonged 'scene'. Normally, I work myself up once, and it's over with...I've never had to put it off once, let alone two times in one day!

I spent some time resting, Master got a blowjob, and we ate a light dinner before heading back out.

"Seriously, if it doesn't work out this time, I'm taking it as a sign from God," I joked on the way. Master agreed we'd be done if it still didn't pan out.

To my surprise, when I walked in, the receptionist recognized me and handed me the paperwork to fill out while Master paid.

"The piercer will be with you in just a second."

I felt both relieved, and terrified.

The piercer finally came around the corner, and escorted us into a private room. The piercing table was like something you'd see at a gyno's office, with stirrups for your feet and everything. I removed my pants, jumped up on the table...and, then I saw the tray of instruments, and immediately thought I might be sick...

The piercer tested my hood with a q-tip, making sure I was anatomically suited for a hood piercing, and started to mark me with the marker. My legs shook so bad, I'm surprised he could see what he was doing.

I held Master's hand in a death-grip as the piercer inserted the receiving tube under my hood--and, unable to breathe, I begged him to back up, to give me a second.

Master tried to talk me down, and the piercer assured me it'd be over in a second.

"It's much less than getting your nipples pierced," he promised.

"Does it hurt really bad? Do people say it's unbearable?" 

"Nope. Usually the opposite," he smiled. "I've done this a lot, it'll be okay, I swear."

"Okay," I relented. "I think I'm ready."

He tried to lead me in a breathing exercise as he reinserted the tube...

but, as soon as he pushed the needle through, I froze.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it pinched miserably, and, for the first time during a piercing, I squinted my eyes shut and cried, "owwwwww!!" until it was over.

"Okay, the needle's through. You alright?"

I nodded.

"Alright, this might pinch, too...I just gotta put the jewelry in..."

I felt the jewelry slide in, and having it there felt much better than the needle.

He gave me a hand mirror, so I could see:

Perfect. Absolutely perfect, and as beautiful as I always thought it would be. 

I smiled, and relaxed for the first time in days, while he gave me instructions on how to care for it. Should heal in 2-4 weeks. Clean it with H2Ocean. Sex whenever I'm comfortable, but not unprotected for at least a month.

I thanked him and thanked him, and Master gave him an amazing tip for dealing with me freaking out.

The jewelry pinched most of the rest of the night, but not in an entirely bad way. And it felt even better after we came home and cleaned it.

Today, I feel like I got hit by a truck. My head, my back, my legs, everything aches, except, ironically, for my pussy--kind of like subdrop, but much more physical than mental. My mindfuck got the best of me, but, as scared as I was, it was still a weirdly sexual thrill of an experience.

My hood actually feels great. I still know the ring is there...but it's not painful, nor orgasmic. Just pleasant. I just like to look at it every occasionally, and revel in the fact that I actually, finally did it.

I turned 23 this past Thursday. Sometimes it's easy to forget how far I've come, since being Master's slave...

But, days like yesterday really remind me how much I've changed, for the better, in so many different ways...

~Bre

Orgasm Control

One of my rules is that I'm not to cum without Master's permission.

Master likes it when I masturbate, He encourages me to masturbate...as long as I don't orgasm without asking.

The point of the rule is that I'll be more sexual and worked up by the time He gets home.

The reality is, I avoid masturbating like the plague if He's not here.

I try to be good, but I always gravitate towards my Hitachi...and, no matter how hard I try to put it off, I break the rule any time it's near me.

Master decided to work on this last night.

We were lying on the bed, barely dressed and chatting, when He grabbed the Hitachi out of a nearby drawer. I wasn't wearing pants, so it was only too easy for Him to spread my legs, position it against me, and flip it on.

As always, the Hitachi made me come alive: back arched completely off the bed, toes curling, eyes closed, mouth open and begging. He knew all the right places to touch me, and, after just a minute or two, I felt myself nearing the edge...

So, He pulled it away.

I looked up at Him, confused, opening my legs wider...He smiled and shook His head.

"Be patient, property. I'm the one in charge of your pleasure...not you."

I laid back down and waited. Eventually, He touched it to me again, and again, whenever I got close, He'd yank it away. Sometimes, He'd totally remove it...others, He'd hover it over me, almost touching but not, laughing at me as I pleaded for it.

After messing with me for a while, He turned the Hitachi off, laid down on the bed, and motioned me near Him, ordered me onto my knees.

"We're going to play a game, property. It's called, 'Who Cums First?'. You're going to suck Me off...and I'm going to turn the Hitachi back on. If I cum first, you're a good girl, and you get to finish yourself with the Hitachi. If you cum first...I get to do whatever I want to you. Fair?"

I didn't think I stood a chance, but I didn't get much of a say.

I knelt over His body, taking His cock into my mouth, and tried not to flinch as He flipped the Hitachi switch.  All my energy, all of my focus and concentration were focused on His cock sliding in and out of my mouth, sucking and licking Him...I knew, if I paid any attention at all to the Hitachi, I'd be lost.

"That's a good slut...It's easy to control yourself when you're trying to win, isn't it?"

No, it wasn't easy at all, but I sure tried my damnedest.

I could tell I was doing a good job, too: Master was tensing up beneath me, and I thought I stood a chance, that I might really win...

Until He cheated, and turned the Hitachi on 'high'.

I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on Him, tried so hard not to give in...but it was too much.

My orgasm hit me so hard, it doubled me over; tears started to fall. Master didn't turn it off, either, and one orgasm quickly turned into two, then three; by the third, I was screaming, my tears turning into sobs.

I collapsed back onto the bed. Master tried to talk to me, but I couldn't understand Him...I just begged Him to wait a minute, let me recover before He used me--and, thankfully, He did.

He started moving around, placing things on the nightstand: a bottle of lube, one of our butt plugs, and I could only imagine what He would do to me.

Ever the sadist, though, He didn't use any of it. It was just there to tease.

Instead, He forced Himself between my thighs, restrained my arms above my head, and fucked me hard. I won't lie--I didn't enjoy it. It wasn't about my pleasure, though...I'd already had that. It was all about Him, and fulfilling His sadistic mood.

I didn't fight back, didn't protest, weak and exhausted from my experience with the Hitachi...and, while it was painful, there was definitely something sexy about it. I love knowing He can have me however He wants, whenever He wants, and that my body belongs to Him.

Afterwards, He dragged me into the shower, where He let me wash Him off. Then, we snuggled in bed. My massive orgasm left me with a blinding migraine, and I couldn't do much more besides cuddle up next to Him and rest.

Even though I didn't win the game, I still enjoyed it...and I think I'm starting to figure out a thing or two about orgasm control...

(The most important lesson being, as Master says, "If you don't want to cum, turn the Hitachi off, slut!")

~Bre

"Hometown" Update

Did I ever mention how much I love you guys?

Because, seriously...it's a lot. Like, a crazy amount.

I haven't had much time to myself the past few days, but I've been trying to check the blog comments on my tablet when I can steal a moment...and I can't even begin to tell you how much your kind words and support on my last post meant to me.

You guys gave me the courage to do something tonight that I probably wouldn't have, otherwise.

I had a talk with my mom.

After the big blow-up on Friday, the two of us hadn't spoken about the bra issue. I thought it was done and over with--that she got all that nonsense out of her system, and, once she saw I was still doing my own thing, she'd let it die.

But, just in case she wasn't sure...I decided to tell her.

She got off work a little bit early today, and offered to take me shopping again. She didn't mention for what, but I went ahead and said,

"You know we won't be buying bras, right?"

When she gave me a weird look in response, I asked her to sit down and talk with me. Well, actually...I mostly just asked her to listen while I talked to her.

I told her how much our "conversation" on Friday had hurt me, and how inappropriate I thought her comments had been.

I told her I'm sorry if she has an issue with it, but it's really not any of her business what I wear under my clothes, and that she'd have to get over it, if she still wanted to hang out with me.

I told her that people who don't wear bras aren't dirty, and it's not anything at all like not showering. It's more like deciding whether or not to wear panties ("And I don't do that, either--and, since you didn't notice that one, I guess it can't be that big of a deal." Thanks for that one, Lola!)

I told her that, while I don't mind being called a slut, I definitely had a problem with the way she used it.

I implied that, if she ever tried to use that as an insult to me again, it'd be the last words we would exchange for a very long time. I told her very plainly that I can't handle any more of this constant negativity.

By the time I finished, she was very, very quiet, face frozen in shock. But, she managed, after a moment, to nod and say, "Okay," and, a moment later, "sorry".

That was that. No argument, no badmouthing.

And the rest of the night has been nice. Quiet. Genuinely pleasant.

No mean looks. No disagreements. We made gluten-free pizza and watched a few DVDs and played cards. No drama.

I can't say that this will last forever...my mom has a habit of falling back into this critical mindset...

But, for tonight, at least...I stood up for myself, with your encouragement and help...

and it was good.

~Bre

A Hometown Hassle

I don't think I mentioned this before, but I'm in Hometown this week.

It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing. I'd made an appointment with one of my doctors up here, and, somehow, over the weeks, plans for a few-day visit turned into a full-week almost-birthday celebration.

Since the last handful of trips to Hometown have been alternatively very,very good and very, very bad, I wasn't quite sure what to expect this time...

You all might remember that, back in October, I decided I didn't care what my family thought about me anymore. They made fun of my collar, and it was like the last straw--I decided to wear it anyway, because I love it, and it's important to me, and who cares what they think of it?

Well, it turns out, I still care what they think...more than I thought.

This time, the battlefield wasn't my collar, though. The collar probably would have been easier to explain.

It started Friday afternoon, on the way here. My mom was driving, and we were having a surprisingly pleasant conversation. Movies and TV and music, what's going on in our lives, family and friends and what we'd do this week...

My mom offered to take me shopping sometime, and I was thrilled. I've needed new clothes for a while, but we don't usually have the money, so I thought this would be a nice birthday present.

Until she continued...

"Yeah, well, I thought we could get you some new clothes...and some bras..."

I froze, unsure how to respond. I don't wear bras, ever, unless Master tells me to. It's not a rule, per se, but I'm more comfortable without one, and Master likes it, too. And, since I don't think it's anyone's (besides Master's) business whether I wear one or not, it's not a decision that bothers me. I go out braless in public all the time, no big deal.

"Because I don't know if you just don't have the money for bras....or if..."

I cut her off, politely, and told her that, no, it's a choice. I don't like them. I don't wear them. That simple.

I automatically regretted that decision.

She told me I was dirty.

She told me that choosing not to wear a bra was like someone choosing not to shower, or not to wash their hair. That it made me unfit to be around.

She told me, verbatim, that I looked like, "a stupid slut, with my tits bouncing around all over the place, and that it's disgusting."

I tried to stick up for myself, but she wouldn't let me get a word in. This barrage of insults continued for the rest of the way home--about 45 minutes--until I finally broke down and told her to stop. As soon as we got here, I called my sister and had her pick me up, so I wouldn't have to be around my mom for a while.

When I finally had to come back to the house, I remained civil to her, but quiet. I waited until everyone else was asleep...then, went into the bathroom and cried my eyes out. I couldn't explain why, exactly, but it hurt. It hurt knowing she thought that little of me, just because I choose not to wear one piece of clothing. I felt trapped. I didn't pack any bras on this trip, and didn't know how to face her the next day without one.

I thought maybe I should take her up on the offer, just to make her happy...quieted my tears, and headed off to bed.

While I laid there, I thought, again, of October..

And, I realized, that this is something like a test. At least, that's how I'm choosing to see it.

Before this weekend, I've never been ashamed of being braless. I like to go on and on about how women should be allowed to choose whether or not they want to wear bras, and how research shows there aren't actually health benefits, and it should be an individual's choice, not society's...I can't tell you how many times Master's heard this speech.

It's easy to be open about it, when you know the people you're talking to agree with you.

And it's easy to do you're own thing when you're surrounded by strangers who could probably care less. I have no problem being braless at the store, or wearing my collar with my D&O ring.

It's hard to stick to your guns when people you know, people you care about, are the ones doing the attacking. Knowing they disapprove can be really painful, and makes you want to back down. You don't want to be the one that starts fights, or causes drama, or is seen (as I always am, by my family) as being "irrational and unstable".

But, if you only keep your convictions when you're around people who agree...then they're not really that strong of convictions, are they?

So, screw it. I decided not to cry or stress over it anymore, and I've been proudly braless since. I'm just more aware of the disapproving looks now.

Other than that, we've been getting along. My sister bought me an awesome pre-birthday cake, with lots of sexy men on it. We've been out to dinner a few times, and she's been spoiling me with Starbucks, and I've got some great presents, including a new laptop for college (!!!).

I'm missing Master a lot...I've been feeling very submissive, and I haven't been able to talk to Him much. I brought my cuffs, to wear when I sleep at night, and it's helping a little...but it's not the same as sleeping with Him...

All in all, though, not a bad trip. It's not necessarily what I expected so far...but, I've become a little more confident, a little more sure of myself...

And, I guess important life lessons about standing up for yourself and your beliefs can be a pretty good birthday present, too...

~Bre

P.S. Obviously, I'm in Hometown this week, so I may not be able to be around as much as I usually am...I'll update when I can, though, and, if nothing else, I'll be back home by Sunday. See you soon!

"Sunday Fun" Update

You guys might remember that, at the end of my last post, I said my ass hurt the next day, but that I didn't have any marks.

I was seriously surprised, because, not only did it hurt to sit...It hurt to bend over, to walk, even lying down in bed had a deep, throbby, pushing-on-a-bruise sort of pain to it. Master never checked for me, or mentioned seeing any marks...and, when I tried to check in the mirror, I couldn't turn my head far enough to see...

Tonight, when Master got home from work, we were both feeling frisky, and started teasing each other. I ended up positioned against the living room wall with my pants down around my ankles, and Master threatening to beat me...(usual Wednesday night...)

"Oh my god..."

He didn't sound horrified, just amused, His words accompanied by a deep laugh.

"What? What's up?"

"Your ass..."

He grabbed the camera, so I could see...

Check out my bruises!

There's a smaller one there on the left, and a much bigger one on the right, the biggest bruise Master's ever left on me.

(Also note the bright-red handprint...Master ended up spanking me a few times, after all).

It only hurts now when you touch it--so, of course, Master's doing that all the time--but I think it's starting to heal. Still, I'm pretty impressed...it's officially been three whole days since we played, and the bruises are still there, and super-obvious.

With all the toys that were going on the other day, I'm not quite sure what caused it...But, I'm guessing it was Das Boot: I got the 10 hardest Dasbootings of my life, and I think that probably has something to do with it.

I have no idea what's going on...If I'm starting to bruise easier, or if Master's just started beating me harder, or what...But, for some reason, I've bruised twice this month, after about 5 years of bruise-free play.

Whatever's going on, I'm seriously not complaining. I like having these little reminders of our play sessions, and knowing that I'm getting better at being Master's painslut...

~Bre

Sunday Fun with Kitty and E

Master only had Sunday off this week--apparently, Memorial Day is a big sale day for His new job. Since the weather promised to be nice for the first time all week, we decided to invite Kitty and E over for a day of grilling out and general shenanigans.

The afternoon started out nicely, with a game of badminton out on the yard. Master played for a while, but then left to handle the grill; I switched places with E, so I could stand in the shade, and tried to figure out what I was doing. I haven't tried badminton since I was 8 or so, and there were way too many moments where I swung and only hit the air...

The game was a lot of fun, up until my clumsiness got in the way. E hit the shuttlecock really high, and I tried to follow it while looking up...

I fell over my neighbor's flower garden, which is surrounded by rocks, and scraped my right leg up. Thankfully, the scratches stopped right above my tattoo, leaving it unscathed and perfect...but it still stung horribly, and bled a little bit. I decided to call it quits on the game and go tend to my wound until lunch; Kitty came to help, so I wouldn't bleed all over the place, which I appreciated.

Lunch was really good: grilled chicken, made by Master, and fresh salad, provided by Kitty and E.

Afterwards, Master asked for our dressage whip, and I ran to retrieve it from the back room. He ordered me to take my shirt off, and flicked the tip of it over my breasts at a very fast speed. It hurt way more than I anticipated and I kept trying to flinch away; Master tied my arms behind my back, and, even then, Kitty had to hold me still while He beat me.

E offered up his horsehair flogger, and Master used that on my chest, as well. I'd only had a horsehair flogger used on me once, and briefly, at that...I never would have guessed, from how light it looks, that it'd hurt even worse than the whip!

When Master had finished with me, I had open marks all over my tits, marks that are still there today, though not as vivid.

Toy after toy after toy came out. Kitty got their Kinky Bag o' Fun out of their car, while Master had me grab armfuls of toys from our dresser. Kitty stretched out against the wall near the door, while Master bent me over our cube shelves, on the opposite wall.

The two guys traded off implements as they beat our respective asses. Master used a few canes on me, and some of Kitty and E's stingier toys. E was a big fan of our Scorpion Tail whip.

Mostly, the room was quiet, with the occasional sound of leather or wood whipping through the air, and muttered curses and cries.

By the end of it, both of our asses were bright red and aching...but our Masters still weren't done with us. They ordered us onto the floor, where they used us as footstools. I've never seriously been Master's footstool before, and I found a certain strange bliss in it: my face pushed into the floor, the weight of His feet on my back...People were still talking, but I floated, content in my service, more than I floated during the actual scene...

Our Masters eventually let us up and treated us to some aftercare. (For me, that meant two pieces of chocolate, a handful of frozen grapes, and a spot on Master's lap). E was craving some fro-yo, so we got our clothes back on and headed out to the local yogurt place.

Always eager to torture us, though, Master suggested a game of clover clamp tug-of-war as soon as we got back. I'd played this game once, against Certari in December, and it was awful. I wasn't super-eager to play again, and neither was Kitty...so, even though the guys attached our clamps, we stood close to each other, not wanting to move.

To get the game going, Master ordered me into the kitchen, to get Him a drink; I scrambled to obey, and Kitty followed as closely as she could. To the table, the fridge, the sink, and back over to Him; He made me kneel to present it, so Kitty had to kneel, too. We ran a few laps around the partial wall that divides the kitchen and living room, and Kitty was crying before E finally removed her clamps.

I looked at Master expectantly, but He didn't take mine off. Instead, He attached a large padlock to the chain, and dropped it. I was proud of myself: I didn't even wince. The look on His face was worth it--totally impressed. I only wore them around for a little bit longer before He removed them and pulled me close, whispering "Good girl. Very good girl," in my ear.

We sat around and B.S.ed for a bit while our nipples healed. We made plans to go on a trip for my birthday, and I'm so excited, I can hardly contain it!

Finally, we ended up at the sex toy store, as we usually do. It's not too far from our house, and we always get into craziness when we're there.

We were all in the fetish section, which is right next to the wall with all the strap-ons and dildos...when someone, it might have been Kitty or E, started joking about getting one. We've all joked about strap-ons and such before, so I wasn't paying much attention, mostly just checking out toys.

E told her she should go ahead and buy one.

Her response was, "There's no point. I don't have anyone to use it on..."

I swore I heard E mutter, "Bre". I'm positive I saw Master pointing at me and agreeing when He thought I wasn't paying attention.

I'm pretty sure all of my higher brain functions stopped at that point, because I remember very little of the rest of the evening. I do remember standing with her and helping her pick one out, and messing around with it some in the car, but mostly, I remember really graphic mental images of Kitty + me + strap-on...

After some TV on the couch, and messing around with their new vampire gloves, it was getting late, and they headed on home.

I went to bed and woke up ridiculously happy, and so, so thankful that Kitty and E are in our lives. I'm still sore this morning, too. No visible marks on my bottom, but it hurts to sit down, and that's a really nice reminder of the night we all had together.

I love you guys, and I'm really looking forward to our trip!

~Bre

P.S. Check out Kitty's version here! (be sure to check out the pics of her wearing the strap-on at the bottom, which made it stupidly difficult for me to focus enough to finish this post...)

The Return of the Nudity Tent

You guys probably all know by now: I'm an exhibitionist, and a bit of a nudist.

Since the weather's warmed up recently, all I've been able to think about is being naked outdoors. I don't know why, but there's something about feeling the warmth and the sunshine on my bare skin that makes me really feel right and at peace.

I'd been thinking about asking Master to set the Nudity Tent back up, but, with how hard He's been working recently, and how sick He's been, I didn't want to bother Him.

So, imagine my surprise when He brought it up first.

We were lounging on the porch Saturday night, basking in the last lingering light of the day, when He mentioned it:

"You know what'd make this moment perfect? If we could be naked..."

Master's usually not the one dying to get out of His clothes, and I was more than impressed, and excited.

The next morning, we got up bright and early, to enjoy as much of His day off as we could.

First things first: up went the Nudity Tent, positioned so that neither neighbors, nor people driving by, could see anything. I helped with the set-up as much as I could, and we moved it around a few times, to make sure it was in just the right spot.

We filled the tent with blankets and pillows, to make the ground more comfy, and relaxed for a while, listening to music and watching the clouds roll by through the openings in the top.

The heat of the day got a little too hot, though, and we left, promising to come back out later.

We went to the store, had a nice lunch, watched some porn, messed around a little. Master got a brilliant idea about attaching locks to the chain of my clover clamps, to pull it down further, and made me wear it like that for a while, torturing me. We practiced some of our rope skills, too: He'd bind my ankles, then laugh at me as I tried to hobble around...

Finally, the sun began to set, and the temperature dropped from Unbearable to Mild. Barely dressed, we crept out the back door in the fading light, and zipped ourselves inside the tent, away from the world.

The sky was clear, and we watched together, naked and in silence, as the moon rose and the stars popped up, one by one. No music this time, no talking, just the sounds of crickets, and the wind.

For a while, the world seemed to stop...or, at least, to move in slow-motion. Everything was perfect, everything made sense.

After a few minutes, or an hour, talking resumed. We spoke in hushed tones, and with our hands, teasing and flirting and arousing each other.

"Do you know what I want, property?" Master whispered in my ear.

"I want to fuck you, right here."

He moved between my thighs; I smiled up at Him.

"I'm Yours, Master. You can do whatever You want to me..."

He slid inside me easily: my body was ready and begging for Him.

And, there, on the blanket-covered floor, under the stars, our bodies came together. He pinned my arms above my head, and entwined our fingers; His eyes never left mine the whole time.

When we parted at last, we fell back beside each other, watching the sky as we had before, holding each other and silently savoring the moment...

Master and I had to come back inside that night, so He could wake up and go to work the next morning.

But, we never took the Nudity Tent down. It's still sitting out in the backyard, in just the right spot, waiting for us to come back out and enjoying ourselves again...

~Bre