I got to climb around under the house and go through little bitty gaps in the brick foundation under the house looking for a valve that would cut off water to the cottage but not the rest of the house. No luck. I had to cut off all the water and then go take a shower next door. Oh, and I took the whole day off.

The plumbers came pretty quickly and got the line to the cottage shut off. Another plumber is coming is coming on Wednesday to do a little more work and work on the fucked up faucets in the back bathroom. We still don't have water in the back bathroom. We'll be taking baths for a couple days.

It's taken me a long time to write this one. The date was last Tuesday, then we had family dinner on Wednesday, then the family meeting on Thursday, and then my conference started the next day.

Sara and I didn't have our usual date on Monday night. She was frazzled and had a headache still from her busted nose incident of the night before, so we watched a couple episodes of "Upstairs, Downstairs." In the middle of the second episode, she asked if I wanted to go make out. Well, yeah!

During the tuck-in, I came up with a couple different scenarios I wanted to try. One was that of a slave buyer who was purchasing a pleasure slave and who received a couple hours to try her out first. Sara, I think, came up with the idea that the slave was not actually a trained pleasure slave.

The other scenario was about a non-consent type of date rape scene, and we actually started acting it out as we made out. It was a very good tuck-in.

Before our date on Tuesday night, we worked up more details on the slave scene.

The girl had been snatched from her people's caravan and sold by an unscrupulous trader who wanted to make a quick buck. Her potential buyer is something of a pervert, and because she is untrained, he can tell her that acts of his perversions are the norm. She's also been beaten and threatened with more if she does not convince the buyer that she is a valuable, trained pleasure slave.

As Sara dressed in a simple white cotton shift, which we'd determined would serve as the allowable costume for the market (dressing a girl to try to boost assets or hide defects being illegal), I set up a couple pillows on the floor underneath a chain suspended from the ceiling, cuffed Sara's hands and secured her to the chain. Her arms were stretched just a little over her head. I grabbed a couple props and went downstairs, leaving her to get into headspace. The set-up was that she had been delivered and chained for me in a private room.

I walked in and was pleased to see that she'd been delivered. I knew from my past dealings with this particular trader, and from the girl's own naive responses to my marketplace inspection that she was no trained slave. The trader also knows that I'm willing to pay a little more for the untrained ones who don't know that there are strict codes of conduct and rights for pleasure slaves. I can teach the untrained ones whatever I want and tell them that it's all normal.

I also like to play with the innocents. Sometimes their responses are so unexpected. Sometimes their bravado is highly entertaining. This one seems like she's trying to be haughty but is coming off as frightened half to death. I treat her casually, as if everything I do is routine. I hold a short double-strap quirt and let it bounce up and down in my hand, making soft slapping sounds.

I welcome her and tell her I hope our negotiations and her application are successful. I handle her boldly, grabbing her by the hair and taking in all of her, continuing the limited inspection I'm allowed to do in market. I tell her to show me her mouth, to open wide. She opens as if she's waiting for someone to fix her teeth. And so I lean down and kiss her. Chewing gently on her bottom lip, running my tongue across it. She does not know how to kiss back.

I tell her I'm ready to see the rest of her and pull the shift up off of her body and hold it around her head and upstretched arms, effectively blinding her like a horse with a blanket thrown over its head. She holds still but trembles a bit as I stroke and caress the revealed skin.

All the while I'm asking her questions. In what house was she trained? Her answer: the large one. Is she familiar with this technique or that? All terms that I'm making up. She answers affirmatively. If I ask if she can do it, she says yes, no matter what.

I take her down from the chains and tell her that the interview is largely over and only the tryout remains. I lie down on the bed on my back as she kneels next to me. I stroke myself and tell her that if she'll just recite the pledge or vow of her house of training, we can get on with it. Just to go easy on her, I give her an idea of what the vow should say, all invented by me, of course.

It was full of promises to do her utmost to please me in all ways and what an honor it would be to serve my magnificence. I was having a hard time not laughing out loud.

I think it was after I'd laid her down and fucked her the first time and I was ready to have her suck me off that she confessed that she wasn't trained for anything. She said she'd seen how much money I gave the trader and thought I should get my money's worth.

I told her I'd known all along that she wasn't a trained professional and that I'd been playing with her. I told her I'd already bought her and that I would show her what she needed to know. And I told her that I valued her honesty over any training she might be lacking.

I had her get on her knees and fucked her from behind. I wet my thumb and started massaging her asshole, which made the girl very, very nervous. She tried to pull my hand away, saying she didn't want me to get into trouble. I told her there would be no trouble, that it was part of her duty.

After I'd worn out my thighs and abs with the fucking, I had her ride me. She rode on top of me lower than ever before, not just sinking down on me but pushing herself down into me, gripping and pulling further in. And well, you girls who ride on top know that's a deep ride. Yow.

When she finally got to come from me fucking her with my hand, hard, she bellowed her pleasure. Oh, god, was that satisfying. She also came all over the place.

We finished with one final hand fuck out of character. More come. Much love. Very much a coming home feeling, a sexual reseating.

I'm going to do my best to try to get the date report written quicker next time (which should be Tuesday).

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11