January 7, 2019

By S. Edmonds published January 10, 2019

On this day, I detail how Henry is kept on his toes by my random whims.

While in servitude to me, Henry knew (and still knows) the real meaning of “On a whim”. He has learned a long while ago that desires and moods would arise within me, making for such spontaneous commands that kept him on his shod toes.

Take his wardrobe, as an example. Henry would dress exactly as dictated by the Wardrobe Listings (a list of outfits for each day of a week as determined by me) while never straying from them on his own volition. However, often was the time when I wanted to see a different coat on him, a different pair of Footwear, or a different outfit all together. The very first time this occurred was when Henry had presented himself before me in that morning’s outfit: a gray two-piece suit, a white dress shirt, a checker patterned necktie, and his black rubber soled Dexter Cap-toes. On a whim, I had decided that Henry go and change into the outfit he wore the day before; I couldn’t get enough of that black two-piece, white dress shirt, and solid red necktie. The Shoes stayed the same. Henry simply nodded, said “Yes, Sir,” and promptly did as he was told. There was not a single word of protest nor any question as to why, and I made it clear that it wasn’t a sign of my displeasure.

I could also mention the instances in which Henry would be performing his household chores like sweeping, mopping, and even cleaning out the bathtubs. On a whim, I may desire to see Henry assume a certain position, or the inclination to squeeze him and tease his nipples. I’d simply summon him (nowadays, at the sound of my custom vibrating ringtone) or I’d just go to him. Once, I had Henry ditch the mop and lay flat on the wet soapy floor, which he did without question. Sure, the backsides of his clothes were soaked, but Henry knew it was simply his problem. Of course, he would be made to get right back to the task at hand after I was finished with him.

Even while we’d be having a conversation, I would still give Henry something to do. As an example, we were once speaking of the unfortunate wildfires that razed California. On a whim, I briefly stopped our chat and had Henry flip his entire body upside down in his seat. We carried on our talk as usual with Henry’s head to the floor and his black apron-toe dress high-tops resting on the top of the armchair. Other times, he would be sitting there with his trousers and underpants pulled down around his ankles, his tubby cock and hairy balls on display; it would usually have been for no other reason besides me wanting it to happen.

Henry would be speaking respectfully when, on a whim, I’d have him repeat a certain sentence several times over. I’d tell him what to repeat and how many times and Henry would sit, or stand, there and repeat it; there were times when I’d simply say “On infinite loop” and it would go on and on only until I told him to stop. It had nothing to do with his words being unclear or if what he said pleased me in some way, but just another way that I asserted my control.

On the subject of sitting, Henry’s natural posture was initially with his legs pressed together and his hands folded within his lap. On a whim, I decided that Henry would look better when sitting with his legs spread wide with each hand clasping his knees. It is currently his default sitting position but there would be alterations to such arrangements at any given time. Perhaps one day, I’d rather he’d sat with his feet brought back to the sides of the seat. On another day, I might wish for him to shift his body to the side and hook his leg over the arm of the chair. Maybe, at my Signal (a hand sweeping downward), Henry would slide from his seat onto the floor and remain there until given permission.

This control extends to even Henry’s bathroom habits, especially when I am in the mood to watch. The first instance being that as Henry stood urinating, I decided it would have been better had he aimed the stream to the left. Henry did so, having the piss trickle onto the floor beside the toilet bowl. There was one instance where I, on a whim, slid a cup under the golden stream then held it up to Henry’s lips to be consumed, all while he continued to relieve himself.

Most of the time, it wouldn’t be anything that had been planned out beforehand, but something like a sudden desire that I felt should be fulfilled. Whatever it was, Henry would simply comply.

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Mind control
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