Sidewalk Chalk.

by Leviticus

As I stepped out of the doors onto the concrete patio behind my house, I looked up at the clear blue sky and smiled.  It was a wonderful clear day, with temperatures in the high seventies and a slight breeze that felt good to my skin.  There wasn’t even any rain forecast, and that had given me an idea for something new for her to do.

I'd noticed that she had been restless of late, her daily routine keeping her occupied as it should, yet not quite as satisfied as before.  I knew how important it was to have the occasional break.  Variety is the spice of life and all that.  So I tried to find something different for her to do every once and a while.  Usually it was a trip out of the house, a rare treat after she had come to live with me full-time.  She hadn’t realized at first just what I had meant about her being here full time, I demand so much from her.  Yet she adjusted and was happy.  But this day she would only go as far as the back patio, and her task would be completely new to her.

I picked up a plastic box I'd bought the day before and moved towards an area of the patio I had cleared earlier that day.  I loved the feel of the warm concrete under by bare feet, smooth and clean now because she spent yesterday polishing it.  The concrete was ready for what I hoped would be an interesting afternoon.

I put the box down in the middle of the cleared area and opened it before turning to the patio doors and calling her.  I waited patiently for her to appear, knowing that she could not move fast.  I watched as she gingerly made her way over the door sill before moving with a little more confidence across the patio towards me.

She was a beautiful sight, nude, her head down low, her long hair tied up in a ponytail for the moment.  In contrast, her ass was her highest point, a truth more often than not in this house.  Her smooth skin was marred only by the way it changed color from a light tan to a pinkish red, evidence of her latest spanking.  Like this she crawled slowly towards me, her hips moving from side to side, her firm breasts visible and occasionally brushing the ground as she moved.  Just a few chains kept her in this position.  One around her waist, which I never removed, had been worn by her for a year now.  It was connected to both of her ankles by two more separate chains that weren’t long enough for her to stretch her legs out.  Her wrists were connected to her collar in a similar way, with two separate chains only six inches long.  Like this, all she could do was crawl, her head forced near the ground due to the shortness of her wrist chains.  She could move about in other ways too, but she knew this was the preferred mode of movement I wanted her to use.

She stopped obediently in front of me and looked up at me, a curious smile on her lips.  She knew this was a break in her routine and I knew she was happy about it.  Rarely had these breaks turned into something bad for her, something which I put down to good planning on my part.  Real life wasn’t like a story, not everything worked every time, so I was careful when thinking of new things for us to try.  I had no worries about today though, what she would be straining today was not her body.

Normally I would take a long chain from the corner of the patio and lock it to her collar, but decided not to today.  The other end was locked to a ring I'd embedded in the concrete when I had laid the pad a year and a half ago.  I knew she wasn’t going anywhere trussed and unclothed as she was, but just for aesthetic reasons I liked to keep her chained to things anyway.  As I let my eyes roam her delightful looking bondage I said with a smile, "You look good!"

She smiled back and winked.  "Thank you, Sir.  I can say the same about you!"  Her eyes looked at my own bobbing nudity.

I chuckled.  My yard was completely screened from prying eyes during the spring and summer by thick foliage and well built fences.  There was no place in the yard you could go and be seen by any of our neighbors, so I rarely saw the need to wear clothes around the house.  She never wore any except for those rare occasions when she was seeing someone from outside our circle of friends.  I think it had been at least a month since she'd last put on anything.

I grinned and bobbed a bit more just to entertain her, and then moved to the box.  "Stay there; kneel," I ordered and she gladly got up from all fours to sit back on her feet, her knees spread slightly, her hands now hanging just above her breasts, her forearms covering them. She looked like a begging puppy in that position, I had to smile until I noticed her mistake.

I looked at her and frowned, and with a start she lifted her elbows out away from her sides, uncovering her breasts.  She was good at remembering the positions I was training her in, but still she forgot the little things from time to time.  I wasn’t worried; there was no hurry to have her become perfect.  So I smiled and nodded before taking something out of the plastic box.

She looked at what I held with a puzzled expression, as well she should.  "Chalk, Sir?" she asked.

I smiled and bent over, holding the thick blue chalk in my hand.  I started to draw a line, walking backwards as I did so, turning four times until I had drawn a fairly even square about ten feet on each side.  Then I returned the chalk to the box.

"Ready?" I asked her.

"For what?" she asked, looking up at me with a slightly worried expression.

"Art.  I have here a box full of sidewalk chalk, lots of different colors to choose from.  Your task for today is to fill this square with Art."

"Art..." she said with a chuckle, "You know I can’t draw, don’t you?"

"Oh, everyone can draw with sidewalk chalk.  I’m not asking for Picasso here, but I want a good effort from you.  Make me happy and I’ll treat you later," I said, watching her smile at the word ‘treat’.  "But I’ll also be equally unhappy if you waste your time out here.  Then you get to treat me!"

Her smile faded a little and I could see that she just realized that this wasn’t just a casual way for her to spend some time.  She knew I expected something from her today, something that was representative of her training.  I sometimes set her tasks to teach her something or reinforce past lessons, and while this one wasn’t as critical as I figured she thought it was, I hoped that she would learn something about herself.

As for her treating me, well, that usually meant a session without a safe word.  It's not that I would do anything horrible to her, our tastes were too similar for me to treat her like that.  But the fact that she had lost that final bit of control over her life put an edge on our play that always made it more fun for me than for her.  It was a useful way of punishing her or at the very least, giving her incentive to push herself just a little bit further.

I walked out of the square and gestured at the box of chalk.  "It’s all yours," I said, "You have the afternoon but don’t feel rushed.  I’ll do supper tonight and if you aren’t done by the time we eat then you can work on it some more after that.   I’m more in favor of quality than quantity, but having the square full by the time dusk comes would be in your favor."

With that, I turned and left her alone to ponder her task, wondering what she would do with it.

As I said before, not every plan was a winner.  One time I drove her twenty miles to a friend’s farm where I had planned on her hauling hay bales naked and chained.  Ten minutes into the task she stepped on a rake hidden in the loose hay and cut up her foot.  Another time we went to visit this supposed private lake only to be nearly arrested for indecent exposure.  Then there was the time I didn’t pay enough attention to the state of her health and she ended up almost choking in a coughing fit while wearing a full helmet.  Little things like that make me more cautious now, and anyone reading this should do likewise.

Once I was in the house I turned to watch her for a while through the glass wall.  The glass was tinted so she couldn’t see me inside, and I could sit only ten feet from her and monitor what she was doing.  What she was doing was just staring at the square.  She had a red piece of chalk in one hand and I could see the puzzlement on her face.  What she had said about not being artistic was true, but then I meant what I said about it not mattering too much.  Hell, even four year olds can draw with sidewalk chalk, which was where I got the idea incidentally, from watching the kids a few houses down.

What mattered more with this task was how she attacked the problem rather than the end result.  She had a choice of either blowing it off and doing some so-so work or actually making a real effort.  I was betting on the effort, for she was that kind of a woman.  If she hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have been in love with her.

Sure enough after a while, she bent low and made her first mark.

It must have been awkward drawing like that, in the chains that bound her and restricted her movements so much.  But that was a part of the challenge, an important part.  It hadn’t taken her long to learn that her restraints were not just the tools of occasional play, but a fact of her continuing life with me.  She existed, therefore, she was restrained.

Granted, most of the time what she wore was hardly restricting, after all she was human and had to live.  But pretty much from the time she moved in with me she was never completely free of something.  Complete free range of movement was no longer something she took for granted as she was either being locked to herself or to something else all the time.  So she was used to doing things this way now.

Watching her work I marveled at how she got around, shuffling on her hands and knees, bent low because of the short chains on her wrists.  Quite often she would have to spread her knees wide in order to work and I would catch a glimpse of the silver ring in her clitoris hood.  At other times she would attempt to sit on her side, but it was too restrictive for drawing so she only did so when taking a break.  She would even roll over and lie on her back, her knees forced up in the air, her arms pulled to the sides of her chest.  She presented quite a picture that way, one that tempted my bobbing nudity, but I didn’t want to interrupt her that way.  Then there were her bathroom breaks which automatically had her crawling to a particular flower bed.  That had been hard to train into her at first, but with patience was finally accomplished.

From time to time I came out and gave her water to drink, for the sun was quite strong, and each time I looked at the work she'd done without commenting, relying on my poker face not to give anything away, and she would kneel and look up at me nervously, probably wondering if I was satisfied with her progress.  I wanted her to keep wondering, so without a word I would leave her alone again.

But it was hard to stay silent after I had seen what she was doing.  I'd expected her to fill the space with random designs or little drawings of simple things, but she was actually working on something big, something that snaked from one corner to the opposite.  It was rough, badly drawn in places, and smudged from where she had crawled over it, but it was recognizable as a large dragon and I was amazed.  She had more talent than either of us had given her credit for, and I was happy to see her put in such effort.

Speaking of effort, it was one for me to tear myself away from watching her in order to cook supper.  I was tempted to order out and thought, 'why not?'  I called for pizza from our regular place, asking for our regular delivery guy.  Then I went back to the window to watch her some more.

She looked so beautiful, hunched over, her pony tail coming slowly apart, her body covered in sweat that made her skin look like it was glowing.  All over her there were also smudges of color from the chalk, on her hips and legs, especially her knees, and on her forearms and hands.  I was surprised to see chalk on her face until I saw her brushing a fly from her cheek.  But I wasn’t surprised to see her nipples a multicolored mess for to bend down as low as she had to it was inevitable that she would brush her breasts against the concrete at some point.  In fact, that was one of the reasons I'd put her hands in such chains in the first place.  She turned and I had to smile, for there were smudge marks on her butt as well.  I wondered how they got there.

Entranced, I watched her until the doorbell rang and then I went to greet our favorite pizza guy, inviting him in to see the show.  Now, you might think it strange that I would do that, but we had a sort of an arrangement.  This was the lucky guy who'd delivered the first pizza to us after she had moved in.  I had made her accept the delivery and pay for it naked as a punishment, embarrassing the hell out of her, but I wasn’t quite done.  As the guy was leaving with a big grin on his face, I intercepted him at his car and had a quick talk with him.  I asked him if he'd had fun, he did.  I then asked for and got his name.  Then I told him that if he kept quiet about what he saw when he delivered here, that we would ask for him exclusively and he would get to see a lot more; but make a noise and I would be very unhappy.  Now people always seemed to understand what I meant by my being unhappy, and few ever wanted to test that state of mind.  This guy wasn’t one of them.  He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was on to a good thing, especially when I tipped him a twenty each time he came.  So from that point on he did all our deliveries and got to see my love in all her loveliness, which always embarrassed the hell out of her.

From time to time, when she was indisposed, I’d have to answer the door myself after pulling on a pair of shorts, and if prudent I’d ask the guy in to see what she was doing.  Of course, she wouldn’t know he was there and as far as I know she never would know.  But I knew it was an extra special treat for this kid and he always went away smiling.

Now I don’t know if he confessed what he was seeing to a few of his buddies or not, I know that I would have a hard time keeping a secret like this.  But after a year there had been no problems, so I wasn’t worried.

This night, we stood on the other side of the tinted window from her and talked casually about how she looked, something we had started to do only recently.  He was polite about it, never resorting to crude language or descriptions, and I could tell he was aroused as well he should have been.  And he had a big grin when I finally got him out of the house again.

I was smiling myself while I put food on some plates and carried them outside, and when she saw it was pizza she turned a bright red.

"Did he?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Did he what?" I replied, taking a bite from a slice of heaven.

She hesitated, and then shook her head, "Nothing."

I knew she was mortified at the thought of maybe being seen.  I chuckled, inside that is.

I fed her by hand as was my custom and afterwards I set her back to work.  Her drawing was coming along really well, with the dragon fleshed out, green scales and all.  It was still rather crude but the attempt showed care and a plan.  There was still a lot of space to fill though.  I also wondered why she had picked a dragon to draw, but as before I said nothing about it except "Get back to work!"

She bowed and said, "Yes, Oh Master of the Pizza," before turning away with a smile.

I chuckled and headed back inside.

I deliberately left her alone this time, going into my den to do some work.  What I really ended up doing was playing some computer games, anything to take my mind off of what was happening outside.  I was therefore quite surprised when a few hours later I heard her crawling into the room.

"What’s up?" I asked.

"Done,Sir.  Do you want to come see?" she asked.

I blinked, "Really?  You’re done?"

She gave me a look, one that women do so well and I knew not to doubt her ever again.  So with a smile I found my keys and unlocked the chains that kept her legs from straightening, and turned them into a hobble chain instead.

She stretched in relief before standing with my help, and she shuffled along behind me back out to the patio.

She hadn’t quite filled the square, but it was good enough, and it looked great, considering how she wasn’t really an artist.
A large dragon snaked from one corner, diagonally across the square to the other corner.  While in the two empty corners two smaller dragons lay curled up.  Empty space was filled with drawings of flowers and what looked like birds although the jury is still out on that one.  And there were even small houses dotted around.  It was a fantastic effort, I couldn’t have asked for more from her.  I was very proud.  But I still didn’t let it show, and I knew she was worried about that.

I turned and took her by the arm, walking her over until she stood right in the middle of her drawing.  She was filthy, covered in chalk and sweat and a little mud from the flower bed; a multicolored mess yet lovely all the same.  She looked wonderful standing on her dragons.  I didn’t take my eyes off her as I reached for the hose I had set up earlier.

"You need a bath," I said as I turned it on.

I washed her down with the hose, spraying her bare body as she stood there shivering.  The water cascaded down her elegant body before pooling at her feet and running to the edge of the patio in a rainbow-like swirl.  In a couple of minutes she was clean and I put the hose away before gathering a towel to dry her.  As I dried her I held her close, standing with her on the remains of her drawing, loving her.

For some reason she was crying, and the closeness I felt for her almost made me cry too.  But I still had one thing left to ask her.

"What did you learn today?" I asked softly, holding her tenderly.

She looked up at me, eyes red, hands still chained to her collar, before stepping back and looking down at what remained of her hours of work.

She sniffed and said, "What did I learn?  I learned that sometimes you can be a real shit!"  And then she hobbled into the house, leaving me alone in the setting sun.

Like I said, sometimes things don’t work out the way you plan.

Be prepared.