Untitled

sock gagged

Sir got up then and walked to the stairs.  Pulling a rug off the first landing, i saw that all was not as it would appear.  Sir pointed and i understood that he was indicating that i should get into the space under the trap door. I walked over and saw a ladder. Sir stopped me, and snapped in place a blindfold.  He guided me to the ladder by touch.  I counted 8 steps before my feet hit the bare cement. Through the mitts i felt the ladder sliding from my grasp as it was pulled up and out. Through touch, muffled by the leather of the mitts, i was able to feel that the walls were bare cinder block.  I was able to hear when Sir dropped the trap door shut.  When Sir replaced the rug, nobody would even notice there should be something bigger than a steamer trunk sized dead space under the stair.  Instead, a 9 foot shaft of cold cement held me.  I was in darkness, insured by the blindfold.  I was unable to grab onto anything to climb, there was nothing to grab, even without the mitts.  The height, rug, and the muzzle made sure that Master would not be disturbed. 

Feeling damn lucky to be in service.

How'd I know? You think you're the first "hitchhiker" I've picked up on this road?

I noticed a bunch of times that my laundry hamper in my closet had been moved around and sometimes some of the laundry had fallen on the floor. I'm pretty neat. So I got suspicious and set up the camera on my computer and left it open. And yeah faggot, I have some video of you going into my laundry and sniffing my dirty smelly sweaty socks. So this is what you're going to do from now on. When I'm home hanging out on my phone, my computer, watching TV, whatever, your face is going to serve as my foot stool for my sweaty stinking socked feet as long as I want. I might choke you with 'em and slap your face with them too, kick you in the balls and other stuff. You don't deserve the pleasure that you're getting from just sniffing 'em so I'm here to teach you a lesson every fucking day you dirty twisted perverted sock sniffing fag.

There was a time you told yourself this wasn't what you were. That was before you learned how he takes his coffee, which side of the couch he likes, how still you have to stay when he's resting his feet so he doesn't have to adjust. You stopped telling yourself things after that.