Chapter Twenty-Three
Once I’m off the diving board it’s made clear that moving upright as a human being is (as usual at home now) unacceptable as well. Mistress locks my monogrammed collar back around my sun-and-metal-burned neck and snaps on the lead chain.
“Okay, Slut-boy, heel!” Grinning with irrepressible intention she leads me back across the patio toward the house.
Despite the pain of the rock-hard patio tile on my sunburned knees crawling like this is actually a blessing, and not for the usual submission-addicted reasons. I’m feeling terribly woozy, staggering some even on all fours and for the first time in maybe eight or nine hours the front of my body is finally shaded from the pitiless sun. Crippling along in agony at Mistress’ heel (careful even now to keep a respectful slac
