The night is quiet and dark as thoughts run though my head. Off in a far room it waits and calls out to me. Are you going to come and do me? You do not want to make me wait. I know from the past what happens when I don’t obey and I wish never to feel the wrath of my dishes again. Holy Cow raced though my thoughts as I lay there with thoughts of long lean forks and spoons touching my wet hands. It sent shivers down my spine with memories of the how my dishes can control my every wish. Holy Geeeezzz!
When my dishes do not get their needs met they create a green slime that likes to give my hands a gooey feel and it is like when I see a spider and all I want to to do run. If I let it go to long the food get hard on the plates and my hands try to scrub it off but it’s always giving my hands a beating in the end. The smell over powers my senses and I sit in fear of what I’m going to find when I want in this strange room filled with stoves, refrigerator and pots an pans I don’t want to submit to my dishes but there is a need to please my dishes that I can’t understand. Holy Cow it has long knives.
I cry out I’m a Dominate and that i don’t switch but my dishes have power over me and will make me do what I wish not to do. They have no safe word and they do not give me after care. It just sits and waits for me and knows that I will break down and do it’s bidding.
The edge play that my dishes make me do is not what no sane dish could ever do to hands without harming them. Yes, as I feel the knife run across my fingers and the dishes make bubble sounds as the water turns red. This please my Master in the sink as blood play get their bubbles hot. Holy Geeez what have I become? But I moan with the thoughts of my dishes long forks brushing up against my flesh. It says it will hurt me or never harm me but alas it make face my limits at each moment.
I cry out red and it does not pay me any mind and keeps going in this sadistic manner. I yell out what about Safe, Sane and Consensual. My Master is into RACK and pays me no mind and will work me till each dish is cleaned in drying on the dish RACK. The long forks in the water take my breath away and I have no voice as I stand there at the sink and do what a good slave will do. Wait I’m not a slave I cry out and the water running out of the spout drowns out my voice. But. But I cry out and my dishes never stop taking me that place of subspace. OH My, Holy Cow I cry out. The pots and pans are endless as my hands are red from being over beaten.
My dishes know it’s all about them with their narcissistic personality disorder it waits and creates presser on me to surrender my will. I hear it calling from my dark room and I try to hid but in the end it will win. OH geeeez I’m helpless with these thoughts.
There is no warmth up in the shinny glasses basking in on the RACK because it’s all about their needs and not mine there will be no aftercare and their has been no contract made but it owns me. I am just a slave to my dishes and there is no way out. I
Wait…. Wait.. There is? Why did I not think of this? Yes, I must find a slave to fight with dark place that hides in my kitchen. There is light after all in the darkness. Holy Cow but long knives and forks and don’t forget about the spoons. Do they think that I will settle for a few moments with the spoons?
Written by Rev Mel on TSRnetwork.com
