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As I tried to keep up with my Master’s pace, my head was swarming. Swarming with questions, thoughts, scenarios, and rebuffs. It all started when, at the sudden desire to take him in physically through my mouth, I had entertained the thought then accepted that I could never be the one to initiate the kiss. I wanted to kiss him, just as I want anything and everything in my day-to-day life. I desired him to kiss me. He took his time. I was befuddled by my absolute conviction that I could never kiss him first, that I was sure to be rejected. Whence this conviction? It was from the smugness that came with the realisation that I was finally starting to be true to my submissive state. I wanted to voice that particular epiphany, that I was sure would please him. As I struggled to verbalise all these confusing sensations and realisations, I ceased to recognise myself. I was twitching like a fly on the gossamer. I was ensnared in his trap and it had just dawned on me. The words that I had. She was about five feet, five inches tall, with a slim build that had only developed some womanly curves over the past few months. She had wavy, ash blonde hair, growing to just past her shoulders, blue-grey eyes, a pretty face, and a fair to medium complexion. Her breasts were still fairly small, but pert, rounded and well-shaped, and her bottom was cute, round, and getting more perfect by the month. Her shapely legs were starting fill out as well, so in a couple of years, she was probably going to be a stunner, but then, so was her mother. We had one solitary picture of her father, the “sperm donor,” as Sonya referred to him, that her mother had kept to show her what he looked like, but really about the only resemblance was in the shape of her head, and when she had certain expressions on her face, you could see Jeremy’s eyes. Sonya was a remarkable girl, really. Although I tried to help around the house, my work sometimes involved long hours, so in addition to keeping the house.
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