Victory Lap (Resolutions, Day 145)

You know how when you’ve been working really hard at something for a while, and then you finally, finally, finish it? And there’s that feeling of relief that just sort of washes over you? Yeah, that’s what this morning felt like after achieving soufflé perfection last night. Well, kind of – it’s not like I wasn’t enjoying the baking process the whole way through, in fact I was having a great time with it. But, especially towards the end, there definitely was a bit of a feeling of “hey, am I actually going to get this done by Mistress Charlotte’s deadline?”. So, I was obviously really pleased when last night’s attempt turned out, well, perfect.

And speaking of things I was pleased about, Mistress also posted an INCREDIBLE picture of herself for subscribers to her Loyalfans! So, if you’re not already subscribed, I believe there are a couple of spots left for her 1-day free trial! Personally, though, I’d say this photo alone is well worth the price of admission, and that’s before you even start thinking about all the premium sessions, tasks, other photos she’s posted… You’re doing yourself a serious disservice by not subscribing, IMO. Anyway, plug aside, I was chatting with her this morning, thanking her once again for the lovely baking task. As I often do, I checked to see if there was anything else I could do for her – and, as is often true, there was! I was to call my mum, and tell her about my soufflé endeavours (skipping any of the parts that contain the word “malewife”, naturally), as well as offering to make her one next time I’m down there (or she’s up here). Mistress wanted me to share my new wifey skill, and honestly? It felt pretty great to do so! Mum thought it looked and sounded great, and she seemed pretty excited to try one for herself! I’m quite keen to make her one myself!

But I’m also keen for another reason. See, much as I mentioned avoiding the word “malewife” here, I also said to Mistress that it’d be for the best that I not bake a soufflé for my mum while dressed in my slutty, slutty uniform. And she agreed – but in exchange, I’ll be staying locked up until such time as this task is complete. Which… I don’t know how long that’ll be! I wasn’t planning on going down to visit any time soon, frankly – the closest time I had in mind was some time in August for a couple of family birthdays. So I hope they come up and visit me soon…!

Mistress also hinted at a future wifey skill that I’ll be perfecting for her – and then, when I asked if she had anything in particular in mind, she informed me that she did, in fact, have the rest of my year planned out. Which, I mean, that’s insanely hot, right? That’s not just me, is it? Mistress Charlotte said I found it so hot because I’m a ridiculous slut, and she’s certainly not wrong there, but doesn’t everybody find it incredibly sexy to have entire aspects of their life planned out for them, with practically no information whatsoever on what that actually entails? I mean, I know it’ll be related to being a domestic house-whore, but that’s pretty much all I have to go off. How exciting! In a similar vein, I mentioned to Mistress that she could pretty much do anything to me, as long as she was having fun – and then, well, that’s when today’s main event started.

I mean, the chat really speaks for itself, here. I rolled myself out of bed, grabbed a dildo (the veteran of the two, I’m trying to keep the new one throat-exclusive for now) and some lube from their inspection-based hiding place, and got myself into the kitchen. Having been plugged just about every day for months now means that I really don’t require that much warming up anymore, which is another point in the list of ludicrously hot things about Mistress’s house rules. Before anything, though, I set up my phone, bent myself over the counter, and took a couple of shots for her – this uniform was her lovely idea, after all, it’d be a shame if I was the only one who got to enjoy it.

And, you know what? You can too. Never say I don’t do anything nice for you.

I lubed up a couple fingers and did some exploratory work, and once everything was good to go, I set up my phone for video this time, lubed up the toy (the cock) (Mistress’s cock) and… got to business. I started slow, which is usually a good idea, and – I’ll be honest – I was playing up some of the slutty moans and exhalations to start with. I know Mistress likes them and, hey, I like them too, so no harm, right? But it really wasn’t very long at all before they were just straight-up, actual, genuine slutty moans. Normally I feel like I can’t go too fast or too deep when self-fulfilling, but – idk, something was definitely different today. I was going pretty deep, pretty fast, right from the get-go, and it felt incredible. At one point I scooched myself closer into the counter, both to get my slutty ass properly in frame, and maybe also to feel the friction of contact against my rapidly hardening dick – and, wouldn’t you believe it, I bumped right into the button that turns on the dishwasher (or, wakes it up, not actually starting a cycle)! That got a good laugh out of me – and made me think, once again, about the “putting a load in the dishwasher” line as a euphemism for filling your wife up while he’s bent over the kitchen counter. No idea why THAT popped into my head, of course.

There’s a bit in Mistress Charlotte’s Whole that especially came to mind today. I mean, there were obviously a lot, I was getting stretched and stuffed and railed – but there’s this one bit in particular where she talks about “holding yourself up on trembling limbs”. And like, I get the idea – I’ve read plenty of hentai where the fuck-recipient absolutely loses control of some motor functions – but I’d never felt it myself. Not when self-fulfilling, not when Mistress fucks me through the Hush, not even when I got bound and fucked in-person. But today? Here, bent over the kitchen counter? I seriously thought my legs might give out. They were quivering and twitching like crazy, I couldn’t believe it. A lot of my memory is already a little hazy – was my tongue really lolling out of my mouth like a fucked-out whore? – but that part is firmly etched into my brain. It felt so… real, I guess. I was reaching back and pounding myself as hard and as fast as I could, and it was having a genuine effect on my body, but I didn’t care. I needed to be fucked, needed to be filled – needed to feel that sluthole stuffed with something heavy, and thick, and solid. Who cares if my legs give out, or if I can’t think straight, or if that little ring just doesn’t close up again afterwards? I’m a hole to be filled. I’m a whore for it. And that’s simply the way it is – the way it must be – the way it should be. Thanks for reading.

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