Metaphors and Master time…

This started off a whole other post. And then aisha and i were texting last night, and i felt the need to change the angle of my pitch (how ’bout that guys, a freaking baseball metaphor!!)…coz, yanno, i’ve been thinking lately.

Which is ..*sigh*…..rare.  i spend so much time *living*…(and yes, a lot of it is mundane stuff) that i have little time for thinking about the big ticket things…

And i’ve been pissy at times, and having arguments with some people, and all over small stuff.

You know that phrase, ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’…sometimes that bugs me, coz there is a lot of “small stuff” that seeps into my life, and when one is constantly being …assaulted…(rough word but the one that fits just now) by small stuff, it can feel like being attacked by siege engines. Like a catapult throwing buckets of rocks at our castle walls, we can be standing there, taking it and taking it and…you know the drill…until something cracks.

Maybe we explode and blow up a relationship, or yell at our kid (my guilt), or engage in self-harm…eating a pint of B & J (no no, get your mind outta the gutter…Ben and Jerry’s people…! ) or drinking, or cutting…however, whatever, we do to cope.

So aisha and i were talking and i was reminded (don’t as me how, my mind just clicks that way sometimes) of a powerful activity i did once while teaching a ‘tween’ class at church a bunch of years ago.

Every kid was given 5 large-ish rocks…smaller than a fist, but not by too much. “Riverstone” they are called, oval-ish, with a smooth, flattish surface.  The kids were instructed to paint words  on the rock, that named things that were of  biggest importance to them. . . ‘family’, ‘love’, ‘pet’, etc were all some of the ones that they chose.

Then each one got several handsful of pebbles, and a mason jar. First into the jar, the little stones. Then tried to fit the big ones in.

it was nearly impossible…they were crowded out.

We dumped out the jars, and put the big things in first. Then added the pebbles. We managed to fit all the big things in, and only a small amount of pebbles (annoyances) could get into our jars.

i love that metaphor, the symbolism behind that is very powerful for me.  And it’s a great visual for kids (and adults, for that matter).

And i think i remembered it because my jar has been pretty full of pebbles lately. Tonight, i’m resolving to empty that fucking jar…and put those big items back in.

Top on my list is appreciating my family fully, including my Master. He is part of my family, the alt part of my life, but no less important to me.

While i wish we had more time together, i’m going to fully appreciate and savor each moment i get to spend with Him.  On that note, i’ll bring you into the “original” post….

Master and i managed to ‘hook up’ very briefly Sunday evening.  It was our first time seeing each other in several weeks and we were *starved* for each other.

After kissing and playing a bit, i was laying across His lap in the back of His car.

He commented on my small hands as He nested His fingers between mine, then ‘swallowed’ my hand in His…”hmmmm” He says.

My antenna goes up. When Master says “hmmmm” like that…it’s almost always something to my ‘detriment’…

so i did what any smart sub would do.

i ignored it.

snuggled into His body, and nuzzled under His chin.

“hmmmm…” He says, and by now He knows i’m working to distract Him.

“Give me your foot.”

oh. fuck.

“Master…” my voice is a bit…wheedling. He curls His hand in that “come here” gesture, and says, “the foot. Now, nilla, let me see it.”

i, literalist that i am, put my foot in the air and wave it at Him.

“Funny. Give it.”

i remove my shoe, pull my tootsie up and slip it into His hand. Because of our positions in the car, He doesn’t have a hard grip on it but that doesn’t stop Him.


He pinches my pinkies, and my foot pulls away. He gestures again. Geeze. i give the foot… it’s His, after all. He pinches my toes, one by one…”this little piggie went to market, this little piggie stayed home, this little piggie had roast beef, this little piggie had none….and this little piggie went weeweewee…all the way home!”

and He scrubs His fingernails on the bottom of my foot!

EEEK! i cry and squirm.

“Oh, okay…” He says,  and He lets my foot slip away, and attacks my ribs, my belly, my thighs…(i should have known better than to think i was getting away with anything!).

i finally, through screeching laughter, have to tell Him.

“M…m…maaaaaasss…..terrrrrrrrr…ifyoudon’t stop…gasp….gasp…laughing and hysterical giggles……masterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr  imgonnapissonyourcarseat!”

He stops.

“okay,” He says, at his urbane best. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Then He laughs.

“Oh, gosh nilla, 5/1. I’m going to need a lot of rope.

Today i open my morning message from Him…this paragraph leaps out at me:

“…U R so ticklish and I barely touched your toes/feet bottoms – it’s clearly apparent that concentrated tickling will kill you in addition to making you piss the bed. I’m looking forward to it.”

He says a few other silly things, serious things, sweet things, and then closes with this:

Nilla, this is just another way to show you how much I care for you – and OK – it does feed my deviant behavior somewhat – but mostly this is to satisfy your raging cravings for tickling torture – and I aim to please.”

He is teasing *AND* serious, simultaneously; i am unbelieveably moved…

He cares for me, about me; cares about filling my needs and His…

this to me is the *ultimate* D/s harmony. His rock fills my jar, and i need to hold onto that when i’m feeling ….under siege.

He is there for me, as i am for Him.

We are each others rock.