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The final chapter of Nadine's story
I woke up this morning on the first day of my new life, Sir. I only vaguely remembered noticing the pearly light of approaching dawn as I fell asleep in Your arms, and the clock on the nightstand, as well as slanting beams of sunlight coming through the window, showed that only a couple of hours had passed since then. I smiled, tired but blissfully content. I yawned and stretched like a cat, my body stiff in several places, my smile widening as I recalled why.

I turned, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb You. I just wanted to look at You, Sir, and maybe after a while wake You with a kiss.

But You weren’t there, Sir.

Tossing the covers aside (and blushing a deep red at the sight of the lengths of rope still attached to the bed) I got to my feet. You weren’t in the bathroom, which was a good thing because I had urgent need of it. Still naked, I padded on bare feet out to the stairs, thinking You might be making breakfast for us. I certainly hoped You were, Sir, as I was absolutely famished.

I listened, but all appeared to be silent downstairs. I walked to the bottom, listened again and called out softly, “Sir?”

No reply. I was alone in the house.

Well, I thought to myself, I might as well get dressed and maybe see if there’s any coffee. I looked in the corner next to the door for the grocery bag with my purse and all of my clothing.


For some reason I found the situation completely undisturbing. You had had to go out and You had wanted to be sure I didn’t leave before You returned. And if that meant waiting for You, completely naked, for however long it might take, I was perfectly fine with that, Sir. Besides, I was so tired that the thought of going back to bed, even for a little while, was irresistible. So I wandered back upstairs and into Your bedroom. Where the first thing I noticed was my ‘Disobedient Slut’ panties, which had been hanging from one of the bedposts but had slid down during the night and were now partially trapped between the post and the mattress.

I am a fairly fastidious person, Sir, and under different circumstances I would have tossed any piece of clothing so thoroughly stained (and still, as I discovered to my mortification when I took them in my hand to lift them over the bedpost, exceedingly damp) into the laundry, if not the trash. But I thought - no, I knew, without even thinking about it - that it would please You to find me wearing them when You returned, Sir.

And I suspect that it won’t surprise You to learn, Sir, that before I put them on I held them to my nose and inhaled deeply. Or that I became instantly aroused once again as I did so. Or that I turned to face the full-length mirror on Your closed door and took my Standing Pose...but only after first stuffing my panties into my mouth.

Oh, Sir, seeing myself like that and, more importantly, imagining myself standing before You like that, seeing myself through Your eyes, made my pussy clench and I had to fight down an overwhelming urge to reach between my legs. But I did it, Sir. Then I removed the panties from my mouth and stepped into them…

Just as I heard a car pulling into the driveway. And strangely, I recognized the sound of the engine: it was my car.

I peeked through one of the narrow windows on either side of the front door and saw You getting out of my car. In one hand you were holding a number of clothes hangers, from which were hanging what I recognized as one of my blouses and one of my business suits.

It didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened: You had taken my clothing and purse and walked back to the parking lot of my office building. You’d used the keys in my purse to take my car and then - I assume after checking my driver’s license for my address - gone to my house to fetch some fresh clothing for me.

I couldn’t decide whether I was outraged by your presumption or touched by your thoughtfulness.

You reached back into the car and retrieved the same grocery bag from last night before shoving the door closed with your hip and began walking towards the front door, which I was standing directly behind, wearing nothing but those same nasty panties.

For a moment I panicked and turned to run back up the stairs and hide under the covers in Your bedroom. But then I realized that was no longer an option.

Instead I fell to my knees and took my position, hands behind my head and legs spread wide, directly facing the door.

And then I simply waited for You, Sir, with a happy smile on my face, knowing, beyond a doubt, that You would be pleased.

I was right: Your answering smile as You came through the door and saw me waiting for You just made me light up inside, Sir.

You quickly hung the clothing on the coat-rack beside the door and placed the bag at its base before stepping up to me and bending down to kiss me, cupping the back of my head with one hand as You did so. It was a long, romantic and sexy kiss, Sir, Your tongue probing my mouth while with Your free hand You lightly pinched first one nipple and then the other. In an instant I was wet again, and I wanted You to keep kissing me just like that for hours. But of course that couldn’t happen and when it ended You left me gasping, Sir, although still with a smile of pure joy on my face.

I have no idea what instinct caused me to suddenly bow down at Your feet, Sir, my arms outstretched on either side of You as I kissed the toe of Your left shoe and then your right before straightening up and returning to my position. I can only tell You how fulfilling, how very right it felt to do so.

And when You stroked my hair and murmured, “Such a good girl,” I think You must have seen one sweet tear running down my cheek.

So I was a little shocked when, without another word, You walked past me and into the kitchen. But I remained in place, perfectly happy to do so, and in a couple of minutes the smell of bacon and eggs and - oh god, yes - coffee was making my stomach rumble so loudly that I thought You must be able to hear it in the kitchen.

A little while later You reappeared, carrying a kitchen chair, which You set down directly in front of me. You returned to the kitchen and came back holding a tray, which You placed on Your lap as You sat down in the chair.

And then You fed me, Sir: bacon and apple juice and coffee and the most delicious mushroom and cheese omelet I have ever tasted, offering me bites of food from a fork or holding the juice or coffee to my lips as I remained in my position. You asked me about my schedule for the day and about my clients, taking a few bites for yourself as I answered and telling me a little bit about Your work as an architectural consultant, as if this were a perfectly normal way to have a conversation, with me kneeling at Your feet, practically naked, and being fed as if I were a baby bird.

I loved it, Sir.

When we were done You took the tray and chair back to the kitchen and, returning, took hold of my wrists and helped me to my feet. Taking me by the hand, You led me upstairs again and back to Your bedroom. You stepped into the bathroom to turn on the shower, then came back and gently tugged down my panties until they fell around my ankles. You helped me to step out of them, then You removed Your own clothing and, taking me by the hand once more, led me into the shower.

And then You washed me, Sir. You shampooed my hair, massaging my neck and scalp until I felt ready to melt into a puddle and run down the drain. You used a warm washcloth to gently remove what few traces of makeup remained on my face and then You slowly, sensuously, soaped me all over before taking me by the shoulders and turning me in a circle under the shower to rinse me clean.

I would gladly, joyfully have done the same for You, Sir, but You said we were running late and gave Yourself a quick wash before leading me back out of the shower, where You wrapped me in a huge, fluffy towel, taking another one to quickly dry Yourself. Then You told me You’d be right back and left, still naked. I heard You hurrying down the stairs and then back up again as I dried myself, and when You stepped back into the bathroom You were holding my purse in one hand and the clothing and grocery bag You had brought with the other. You placed the purse next to the sink. the grocery bag on the floor and hung the clothing from the hook on the back of the door.

Then You stepped out of the room just long enough to retrieve my panties from Your bedroom floor.

I hope You were pleased, Sir, by the way my face lit up at the sight of them, stained and disgusting as they were (and still are, of course, Sir, as I write this, only now much more so). I think You must have been, because after crouching down and holding them out for me to step into, You rose to Your feet and took me in Your arms, kissing me and fondling my ass with both hands as You held me against You.

You kissed me once more, lightly, told me to hurry up and get dressed, then gathered up Your discarded clothing and went back to Your bedroom to get dressed Yourself, pulling the door closed behind You.

I dried my hair as best as I could and then wrapped it with the towel before digging into my purse for my makeup. Having finished applying it, I turned to the clothing You had brought me. My heart sank a little bit as I realized that You had ***********ed the dowdiest, most unattractive business suit in my entire wardrobe, an outfit I had bought and worn only once, for a job interview several years ago with a crusty, white-shoe law firm in the city; a job I was extremely thankful I didn’t get, truth be told. There was an accompanying plain, white blouse and in the grocery bag were shoes, pantyhose, a bra and some simple earrings with a matching necklace.

I sighed, but understood Your purpose and dressed quickly, taking a clip from my purse and gathering my still-damp hair once more into a plain bun at the back of my head. I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror. “Ex-nun,” I muttered to myself, before opening the door and walking out.

You were there, dressed much more casually than I was, in a short-sleeved shirt and loose-fitting pants, and sprawled across the bed, typing something on a laptop. You looked up at me and with what was by now pure instinct I snapped into my Standing Position, with my hands behind my head and my legs apart. Unfortunately I had forgotten that I was carrying my purse in my right hand and managed to whack myself on the side of the head with it as I assumed my position; it settled awkwardly half on and half off of my shoulder as I continued to hold on to the strap.

I couldn’t help myself: I giggled and then burst out laughing, Sir. You laughed too as You rose from the bed and came over to me. You lifted my hand from behind my head long enough to disentangle the strap and remove the purse. Which you then clicked open and rummaged around inside for a moment, eventually coming up with my glasses - which I’d completely forgotten about - taking them from the case and unfolding them before gently settling them on my nose. You were still smiling broadly, as was I.

You let Your hands fall to my shoulders and looked into my eyes for a long moment, your gaze full of affection, before saying softly, “Come on, you’ll be late for work.”

“What about You, Sir?” I replied, still smiling.

“I’m working from home this morning.”

Hand in hand, we walked down the stairs once more, not speaking and just enjoying the moment. You walked me out to my car and opened the door for me. I sat down on the car seat but still facing outwards towards You, Sir, my feet still on the concrete driveway. I kept my eyes on yours while I rummaged blindly through my purse for my keys. You asked me if I remembered Your instructions for what I was to do today; I said I did and repeated them back to You. You nodded approvingly and added the instructions for me to write this report for You and how I was to do it, and told me that You would come to my office at closing time.

I had the keys in my hand by then and swiveled to insert them in the ignition. But I found myself unable to turn the key and start the car. I swiveled back to You and looked up at You, pleadingly, saying, “Please, Sir, I’m not ready to leave You, yet. I want to… Please let me… I…”

My hands, of their own accord, had risen to either side of your hips and now they were frantically unfastening Your belt and opening and unzipping Your pants. I pulled down your underwear and then, in full view of anyone who might be passing by or looking out their window, I - the “ex-nun”, the “sexless librarian” - sucked Your cock, Sir.

My head was bobbing up and down so vigorously that it was only a matter of seconds before my glasses slid down my nose and fell off, but You caught them neatly, Sir, and held them in one hand while the other rested on the back of my head and You began thrusting into my insatiable mouth.

It was quick and incredibly intense, Sir, and it wasn’t long before You groaned with pleasure and filled my mouth with the gift of Your cum.

But I didn’t swallow it, Sir. I gave the tip of Your cock a parting kiss before tucking it away again and straightening Your clothing, then quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before standing to kiss You on the lips as well. Then I smiled my gratitude at You, got into my car and drove to work, my mouth still filled with Your cum.

I held it there as long as I possibly could, Sir: I reached the parking lot, walked into the building, smiling and nodding at a couple of people I knew, took the elevator to my floor, entered my office and sat down at my desk. And even then I didn’t swallow until the phone rang and I had to answer.

But I refused to even take a sip of water for several hours, Sir, because the taste of You was still in my mouth and it made me so happy.

And now You know how the rest of my day went, Sir.


It is now nearly five o’clock, Sir, and You will be here any moment, so I must stop writing this and prepare myself for Your arrival.

As soon as I finish these last few sentences I will once more strip to my “Disobedient Little Slut” panties. I will take my Kneeling Position, facing the door of my office, and I will wait, holding out with both hands this legal pad on which I have spent so many happy hours writing to You: offering it as my gift to You.

I hope that You will take it from me and read it immediately - perhaps aloud so that I will have the opportunity to relive every single moment - while I wait for You with my hands once more firmly locked behind my head and my attention completely focused on You, Sir.

And if, as I desire more than anything else I have wanted in my entire life, You are pleased with how I have followed Your instructions, and with me, I beg You, Sir, to once more stroke my hair and call me Your good girl.

To continue training me so that I may serve You more perfectly.

And most importantly, I beg You to grant me permission to address You, forevermore, Sir, by the title which truly expresses what You have become for me:

My Master.

-- The End --

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