Nov 10

Dear Diary,

I went back to work today. I left Keith with a neat little to-do list of chores for him to finish while I was gone. I wanted him to do the dishes, sweep the kitchen, run the vacuum, clean the bathroom-toilet, sink, tub and floor, do most of the laundry and finally change the bed linen. It wasn't that much to do… after all, he has a dishwasher and only one broken finger. All afternoon I daydreamed about the clever methods he devised to overcome his slight stature (he was eye level to my hip when I left this afternoon-putting him right at three feet tall according to Leon the Lion Ruler.) I thought the two hardest chores for him to accomplish had to be doing the laundry and vacuuming. I pictured him dragging a chair to the washing machine. Shivers of excitement tickled me as I wondered how heavy and cumbersome the liquid bottle of Tide (with bleach alternative) would be to him. I compared it to me trying to manipulate a five-gallon water jug. Small wrinkles of concentration formed a `V' between his dark eyebrows as he used both of his miniscule hands to lift the heavy bottle of detergent. He carefully, carefully measured out just the right amount into the lid. I smiled as he stood on his chair and painstakingly pondered which buttons to push on the washing machine, panic brewing right under his outward calm because he knew how pissed I would be if he fucked up. My stomach flipped and tightened into knots of excitement when I imagined him the perfect little farmer harrowing the fields of the living room floor with the immense vacuum cleaner. A trickle of sweat slid down his tiny, red face as he tenaciously pushed and pulled the sweeper and formed row after neat row on the carpeting. Such a careful and tidy servant was he.
Amazingly enough, he had everything done by the time I got home. I was so thrilled and pleased with myself all day that it was anti-climatic to come home and find Keith very proud of himself for accomplishing everything I requested. I was bored and more than a trifle disappointed that he had managed so well. The dark, fun part of me was anticipating the chance to exert displeasure at his inability to finish simple tasks I set forth. The dark part of me had to settle for complete pampering instead.
He wanted, needed an atta-boy, a pat on the head, he'd been a good dog, hadn't he? I expected him to be more Rottweiler'ish instead of Shih Tzu'ish (goddam wimpy-ass dog) and to say the least, his yippiness was very irritating. I guess he isn't that bad, but he's no Ed… Ed's legacy lives on… sigh… where was I? Started thinking about Ed and I skipped off on a tangent. Oh yeah, Keith expected some praise for his efforts and instead I gave him an indifferent disdain as I plopped on the couch and told him to bring me a Diet Coke. Good little cocker spaniel sped off with a yip of joy to bring me, panting and drooling, what I asked for. I disapprovingly raised an eyebrow at him; "You forgot a glass and ice." Pant, pant and wag his tail… off he scurried. He retrieved a glass and sat beside me, his tongue lolled and his eyes pined for the slightest compliment. His eagerness left a sour taste in my mouth and a huge desire to completely squash his energy waxed through me.
The vitriolic commands came one after another, I pushed and goaded, I barely gave him time to finish one order before I barked out the next one. In a matter of minutes I had, in addition to my Diet coke, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, remotes for the VCR, TV and stereo, my book from the night stand in the bedroom, an apple, orange and two bananas (none of which I ate), my laptop, the phone and the clothes iron (just because I wanted him to carry something heavy and also I wanted him to really, really wonder what I could possibly want with the iron.) His energy abated a little, along with his eagerness and hopefulness of getting a pat on the head as he ran from one task to the next.
I was just getting warmed up. He perked up a bit when I ordered him to run me a bubble bath. I stood in the doorway of the bathroom and looked down at him. My heart thundered and I felt like I was 300 feet tall as I towered over him. I felt so big, so strong, so powerful. An unbelievably absolute feeling of supremacy overwhelmed me. I was and am invincible. "Undress me, toy," I commanded. I resolutely refused to help him as he struggled with the buttons of my navy BDU's. The top button was above his head, his broken finger and already fatigued arms encumbered his efforts, but his tenacity finally won and my pants slipped to the floor. He climbed on the toilet and tugged my shirt over my head. His eyes were saucers as he gazed at me standing before him in my bra and panties. His mouth dropped into an unbelieving `O' and I saw him tremble. He reached out with a shaking hand and slipped a bra strap off my shoulder. I turned around and lifted my hair off my back, exposing the gentle curves of my neck and shoulders. I felt his tiny fingers as they slid under my bra strap and slowly unhooked it. I turned to face him again and released my hair, shaking my head so my auburn waves bounced and danced… my breasts jiggling was just a fortunate side effect, but it wasn't wasted on him. He fidgeted on his perch, he tried to swallow. "Take it off," I commanded. His tiny dick poked at his oversized shirt and I knew he was on the brink of exploding. I had an excellent time teasing him and pushing him mercilessly. I wondered if he'd maintain control as he reached out in slow motion and released my breasts from the scrap of silk and lace. He forced his eyes closed as he swayed and fought for control. No rest for the weary! I giggled at his predicament and reminded him I still had panties on and that my bath was getting cold. He reluctantly opened his eyes and grabbed the sink for support. He carefully lowered himself off the toilet and turned to face me. He took a deep, deep steadying breath and sneaked his thumbs under the black ropes of silk on each of my hips. He closed his eyes again, he dared not even breathe, as he lowered his arms with my panties dutifully following their descent. He kept his eyes closed while I stepped out of the black panties and lowered myself into the soothing bubbles. I gave him a heartbeat and a half before I told him to come and wash me. He maintained control-I have no idea how he did, but he did- as he leisurely and thoroughly cleaned every inch of my flawless body. My control over myself, however, wasn't as good as my control over him. His ministrations had every one of my nerve endings craving more attention, more caresses, more delight. I truly felt like a Goddess as I reclined in the warm water and allowed him to worship me. His rapture and deference electrified me and inspired me to demand more and more and more.
I sent Keith to put my bathrobe in the dryer for a few minutes while I dried myself off. He brought it to me and the look on his face expressed his chagrin at missing the drying-off procedure. I indifferently threw the robe around me and walked past him, accidentally brushing my knee against his still-hard manhood. I mischievously laughed over my shoulder at him and continued into the living room. I lounged on the couch, I glanced at him as he sheepishly followed me. I told him to take a break and sit by my feet. I laughed out loud at him as he climbed on the couch-he looked like a small monkey lumbering about. He tossed me a pusillanimous look, I had already frightened all the defensiveness out of him. He sat there like a prim and proper seven year-old, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his new T-shirt hiked up to his mid-thigh. I let him sit there undisturbed for a few minutes before I slowly slid my big toe up his tiny leg. From his ankle, up and over his bump of a knee, I pointed my foot and used my painted toenail to trace his tiny quadriceps. I grinned when I saw his breath catch and then exhale in a groan/sigh, I knew he was completely at my mercy. I caught the hem between my toes and bent my knee, dragging the slackness out of the shirt. My grin widened when I saw his brow furrow and heard him whimper as the cotton excruciatingly tightened against his throbbing dick. His jaw clenched as I alternately loosened and tightened the shirt. My own desire was rampantly running through me, I impatiently licked my lips. My toenail scraped his leg in a rough and final caress. I was the wrecking ball, his world was the building and the thought totally titillated me.
I demanded that he fetch the peppermint lotion. His state of arousal made fetching a bit difficult, but fetch he did. He returned and devoutly kneeled in front of me. "Let me worship you, My Goddess," he whispered as he tensely knelt at my feet. "Please, My Goddess, let me pleasure you." It would have been more fun if he'd waited just a little big longer so I could have told him to do it, seeing as I was in a very commanding mood, but I would get more chances to exert my power. I kept him kneeling for several seconds, the sultry silence dripped with steamy expectation before I finally relieved his yearning by saying "you may." He carefully squeezed a thin line of the pink lotion over my instep and wondrously immersed his tiny hands into it. He sat Indian-style and tried to lift my foot into his lap. Power leaked out of me as I used my strong leg muscles to thwart his puny attempts. An evil grin flashed across my face, but it was lost on him because he dared not look at me. I released my muscles and allowed him to gingerly place my huge foot in his small lap. His splinted finger poked out like a sore thumb (I can't believe I said that) as he reverently stroked the top of my foot. He ran his uninjured hand along my sole and interspersed each of his fingers between each of my toes. I watched as he marveled at the size comparison between them. Fibers of ecstasy skated from my feet and erupted like a Roman candle-each burst a little stronger and brighter than the last. On and on his aching arms and tired hands lovingly caressed first one foot and then the other. Around my ankles, up my calves-his hands worked on, he used the last fragments of his zeal to pleasure me. When he leaned down to use his mouth, I snatched my foot away and ordered him to get away from me. I stood and headed for the bedroom, he followed in my wake mumbling apologies and babbling promises. I ignored him and climbed into bed. He lowered his head on the edge of the bed, exhaustion overtook him and he laid/stood there motionless. I threw an extra blanket on the floor and told him that was where he was sleeping for the night. He wearily sank to his makeshift bed and was immediately asleep.
Well, he slept for a little while… his enervation and pampering had invigorated me and turned me on. My moaning and thrashing on the bed woke him up. Curiosity got the best of him and he stood to find out what I was doing. I pretended like I didn't realize he was watching me as I continued to pleasure myself. I haven't ever been excited by voyeurism, but somehow making him watch exponentially increased my desire. I didn't need him, I could make myself feel like silk without any help from him. He couldn't do anything but watch helplessly. He couldn't make himself turn away, he dared not try to interrupt me. With a final loud groan I drove myself over the brink of ecstasy and fell back, sated, on the pillows. I grinned to myself and sighed… I had my eyes slitted just enough to see him stand there for many indecisive seconds before fatigue won and he dropped out of sight.
It took him a little longer to fall asleep this time, I heard him tossing and turning on the hard floor. When I was sure he had crept off to dreamland, I turned on the bedside lamp to write. Although I'm disappointed in his lack of verve, I did thoroughly enjoy being pampered tonight. He is still shrinking too slowly, but this WAS an experiment. I don't have to do it this way anymore. I'm getting restless, I am beginning to wonder exactly how much power I can achieve… give me an inch and I'm going to demand my hundred miles. Sigh… tomorrow is another day…