EXTRACT FOR
Permanent Position
(Miranda Birch)

Today I rise at 6 AM as usual, and get on with the normal chores. There is a lot to do, and it is best to get as much done as possible before I serve Mistress breakfast in bed, because once she is up I will be liable to interruption at any time, for as long as she wants. But regardless of that, I had better still have all chores done by the end of the day -- or else! 



I am now quite accustomed to domestic work, and am steadily becoming more efficient at all of my tasks. There is only one thing that irks me. Whenever Mistress sees me without much to do, she packs me off to the cellar for an hour for 'exercise'. This consists of moving about fifty heavy bags of sand from one end of a the long narrow room to the other -- and then moving them all back again! When there is no other work to do, there I am, down in the cellar, working with aching arm and back at an utterly pointless task, carrying one bag at a time up the other end, stacking it, knowing it will be brought right back to where it was before I started before I am realised to continue my work. 



I considered begging her to release me from this task, one both arduous and needless, but on reflection considered that only result daring to make any such suggestion. might be the imposition of even heavier work -- or perhaps even punishment. For I dread the cane, I am submissive but not a masochist -- I don't like pain. Now, I have learned to be found idle as little as possible. I suppose this is her intention! 



It is approaching nine before I know it. So, up to the Mistress's bedroom at nine on the dot with her breakfast -- she normally just has tea. She looks as ravishing as ever as she sits up in bed stark naked. It is a sight at once enthralling and frustrating. Enthralling because she is a very beautiful young woman. Frustrating because It is something like fifteen days ago that she last ordered me to wank in front of her, and I have not been permitted relief since. The memory of that infinite pleasure is still with me. As, time and again, my restrainer crushes my erections, I yearn for her to let me release again. But naturally, I dare not even allude to any such yearnings. A slave's sexuality is always under the control of his Mistress. That I understand and that I accept, cruelly frustrating as it is. 



"I have an appointment at twelve noon," says my Mistress. That is unusual. Normally the afternoon is the time for seeing any of her few, very select clients. 



"Yes, Mistress," I reply, inclining my head. 



Bad news for me! I shall either be locked in my room or in the cellar. And if its the cellar, then -- yes, bag-shifting time again.