Midnight Series (camren version)

Chapter 47

butterfly

My weekend had been a blur. Some parts of it I remembered vividly, some parts were fuzzy, and other parts I couldn't remember at all. And to top it off, some of what I swore I remembered seemed impossible.

Lauren and Shane could fly—they were warrior angels. Well, at least that was what they had been in my dreams. They were fighting off these two bad angels, and there was a girl angel...or was it two? Wait, maybe they hadn't been flying. But they were fighting and up on the ceiling...unless I was on the ceiling and they were on the ground, but that didn't make sense. Oh hell, none of it made sense. I'd have to chalk it up to a crazy dream. It had to have been a dream. There was no way that Lauren and Shane were in my Mistress' playroom.

I didn't even remember ending our scene in the playroom Saturday or how I got to bed. The last thing I did remember was feeling like I was going to come. Had I? Why couldn't I remember?

On Sunday morning, the only clue that told me the entire thing hadn't been a dream was a bouquet of lilacs sitting on my dresser with a card that said, Playroom 10:00 am.

There was nothing set out in the playroom except a blindfold, and I wondered if she was going to have me go out again.

She didn't. In fact, it was a wonderfully relaxing afternoon.

First, she bathed me in warm bath water until I was positive there was not a speck of dirt on me. Then she carried me back into the playroom and placed me on what I recognized was a small bench on the floor. When I knelt on it, I knew I was at the perfect height to give her an amazing blowjob.

That was exactly what she wanted. It was similar to the times before in that she tasted delicious, and once again, I felt invigorated. My Mistress lifted me and placed me on something soft. I recognized the feel as the leather table, but it now had a sheet on it.

My Mistress then proceeded to give me a head to toe massage, and I tried to fight the sleep, but it was of no use. I felt myself drift off and awoke hours later on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. There was music playing softly and candles lit around the room.

I sat up and picked up my journal before heading home. I wished this were my home. I wanted to be here always—maybe not in the playroom, but definitely with my Mistress in this apartment. I realized that it likely wasn't even possible. I wasn't sure if I was the only woman who used this playroom, let alone the apartment. Refusing to allow myself to think of my Mistress with another, and not wanting it to kill the amazing buzz I had, I chose instead to bask in the feeling of peace she had given me.

Things were amazing when we were together, yet there was something that kept me from feeling truly happy. The entire time I was in the playroom with my Mistress was wonderful. She claimed me as hers over and over, and I served her in every way she asked. But when we weren't in the playroom, I was constantly thinking about her. That wouldn't have been a bad thing, except I often wondered where she was and what she was doing.

Mostly, I wondered if she was with anyone else the same way she was with me. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted her all to myself.

The other thing I wanted was to see her. Initially, I'd found the blindfold to be erotic, but lately it made me wonder what she was hiding. Was she someone I would recognize—like a politician or a movie star—and was afraid the secret would get out? Or was she a married woman who didn't want to take chances?

Maybe it wasn't her face that she didn't want me to see. Maybe it was her body. I imagined it grotesque, covered in scars. Perhaps she was handicapped or deformed in some way. Each time I pictured it more hideous than the last, and yet, every time, I decided that it didn't matter. The fact was: I was in love with her—no matter her physical appearance. I just wanted the mystery to be over.