The Red Crop

.

Everything is fuzzy, and I am feeling hot. Hot, like a furnace about to overheat.

“Why is everything fuzzy?” I ponder.

My heart is racing, beating like crazy; I am out of breath. That warm feeling; fuzzy and tantalizingly inviting.

“What happened, the other day?” I ponder.

All I can remember, is that hot feeling, still lingering in my body. I feel, almost as if I had been crafted out of rubber. Or, possibly the Silicone; Mistress’ ensembles had been made out of.

“Oh, wait?” I ponder; "My rump is empty!” I consider.

“Why?” I exclaim, almost as if it had been important, and a cause for concern.

I am lying on my back, on my gurney; the quilt covering my body, from the neck down. She had helped me up, onto the gurney; covered my body, with the quilt. I appreciate the favour, she had extended me. I don’t ask why; I simply appreciate, what she had done for me.

There is something of a flash-back; I feel her warmth, as I hear the beating of her heart. It may be fleeting, only slipping in and out of my consciousness. It happened, but I can’t quite put a finger on it.

“She!” I mumble.

I had felt her body, pressing down onto me; where I lay, under the gurney. I felt her breasts, against my back; as she was helping me, extracted me from what I had been doing.

“I am still me!” I ponder.

Yet, everything is still fuzzy. I am exhausted, after what I had put my body through.

“How long had I been under?” I ponder; “How many hours had I been left, to remain; as I had been found, the other day?” I continue; “How long were I unconscious, this time?” I ponder.

No answers forthcoming. I am alone. Would she tell me, how long I had been under, or how long it had been since I was placed on the gurney?

“Maybe I should insert the plug!” I mumble, quietly; to myself.

If I want to insert the plug, I have to slip out of bed. That should not present any problems, for me; even if I may be a bit unsteady, and fuzzy around the edges.

“Yes, I need to get out of bed; so that I can catch my plug, in order to insert it!” I point out, eagerly.

Since I had finally made up my mind, deciding to go up; I fold the quilt to the side and slide my feet out from under the quilt. As I sit up, I slide down and slip out of bed; finding myself standing on the floor. On the tips of my toes.

“I made it, that was easy!” I exclaim; “Just like a Ballerina, I am standing on the tips of my toes!” I continue; “All that hard practice, certainly does pay off!” I conclude.

While I had actually noticed, that I am standing on the tips of my toes; it never occurred to me, that I should have been standing on the heel of the foot. Not on the tips of my toes.

Curious, how the last activity, I had performed; is so clear to me, I had thought it is who I had always been. I had never practiced ballet; just as I had never been a Ballerina before. Let alone, desired to be one in the first place.

At least, I had enjoyed the influence of the inserted plug; for several days, by now. Maybe it is, why I am feeling empty; once it had been extracted, even if it had been just before I had my climax. I had been exhausted, at the time.

Strangely enough; the lack of stockings and gloves never registered. My hands are beautiful, though; just as my feet are perfect, for a girl like me. Perfect, to dance the ballet; like the Ballerina I am.

I merely afford the bed an instant, to smooth the quilt into place; before I move over to the box, on the table a few feet away. Now I open the box, look into it; scan its content for what I desire, only to find the plug among its content.

My right hand extracts the plug, in a mere instant; before I pull my hand out of the box and in between my legs. The next instant; I feel the tip of the plug between the orbs of my rump. I find my rump contracting, instinctively; and I slowly insert the plug, just as intended. Though I do take my time, slowly sliding the slippery toy into the soaking wet orifice.

“Whoa!!” I exclaim, in excitement; “I am still wet!” I continue; “I am hot!” I conclude, just as the plug is sliding into place.

“There!!” I exclaim; “Just perfect, the way I have always liked it!” I conclude.

With the plug in place; I am no longer empty, or open.

The excitement and exhaustion of the extended exposure and enduring the orgasmic state had taken its toll on me. Just that I never had realized this. Maybe I never will.

I never challenged the posture, given to me for the practice. My feet had been adapted, never permitted reverting to the natural posture of a natural girl. While I still could try to bend my feet, in order to walk on my heels; this is going to be a growing challenge and effort on my part. The longer I permit the posture to linger; the more effort I will have to put into it as I want to regain my stature.

Just as it feels natural to me, to walk on the tips of my toes; it is just as normal, to have the plug inserted at all times. Aside from the rare moments, when it is required to extract it; in order to perform the bodily function, blocked by the plug’s insertion.

A few minutes after I had inserted the plug, it is already forgotten; and now the door is slipping up, as my Mistress is entering the room.

“Greetings, Miss!” she is addressing me.

“Greetings, Mistress!” I respond, in kind.

“You are up and about, I see; this does please me!” she points out, to the point.

“Yes, Mistress; I am indeed, thank you for asking!” I respond.

“Excellent, excellent!” she pronounces; “Because I had a new session in mind, for you!” she explains, matter-of-fact.

“Thank you, Mistress; I am looking forwards, to it!” I respond

“Right this way, please!” she instructs me, as she is turning towards the door.

“Yes, Mistress!” I respond, following her out.

Just a step behind and to the left. I am following her, to the Dungeon.