Last week there was a lot of drama in nillaville. Rough times, my friends. And nilla? Well….I’m a VERY emotional woman. Slut. Wife. Mother. I cry at Kleenex commercials, right? And things pile up and I tried to “suck it up”. Actually i *did* suck it up. And then…
There comes a point when there is no more room for suckage to fit. Master happened to be the one who hit the jackpot, and reaped the emotional firestorm. I didn’t do something He had wanted me to do, and didn’t realize it was a Rule. Now I have been educated. And I reacted by crying my eyeballs out, and … saying hyper-emotional things like “if you don’t like me then take back my collar…”
To which He responds, in an altogether normal way…”so, you’re in one of your nilla moods, eh?”
He allowed me space to roll through the emotions, and supported me, and … helped me through it. By not reacting to my breakdown, he got me through it. I’d not shared my week from hell with Him. My bad. He had no idea where “it” (the mood) had begun. It didn’t change the fact that I’d fucked up on a task He expected of me, but it helped Him understand my reaction. And i understood, after we talked some, where He was coming from. And i (ahem…) told Him it wasn’t fair.
*pregnant pause here*
Did your mouth just fall open in shock upon reading that? I know, I can barely believe I said it. And not just once, either.
(insert whiney voice here)
“But Master, that’s not fair. You didn’t make it a rule. You can’t say I fucked up if it’s not a rule. It’s just not fair.”
Do you know what He did?
Can you guess?
He laughed, the fucker.
He knows *exactly* how to diffuse me. “Fair? There is no fair here, little girl. It’s My way. I promised you several things…and fair was not one of them.”
And then He laughed again, “Fair!” He scoffed. And yanno?
He’s full-on right.
He’s the boss. Capital B Boss. Boss of me.
So now I have two new rules. Always a picture on HNT Thursday. Always. Without exception.
And never, ever, let my pique with Him spill over into not sending Him a morning text. I can text Him that I’m still mad, or sad, or call Him a prick. (Though I’ll pay for that if I do!)…but staying in communication is mandatory.
Yes, Master. *smiling*
We had face time on Sunday morning. It’s never very long, these little meetings, perhaps an hour or so. I have my tea, He has His coffee. He hugged me and kissed me, all the while, grabbing my soft waist with his fingers, and pinching hard. As I climb to my tiptoes with the sudden surprising (and hurty) pain, He jokes about my going from 5’1″ to 5’6″ instantly.
It hurt, coz, yanno? I’m out of pain practice. Oh, sure, I’ve pegged my nipples plenty in these last 6 weeks, but real pain?
Nah. Not much…maybe a pinch here or there, a hand grab, a finger pinch. This was “full on” Master. Later He said that He was holding back. Way back. Um. Um. Really?
If that’s the case, then pray for me next Sunday, ya’ll!!
Left under arm…and the photo is a bit over-exposed, those are really darker. Yes, I took this photo about 5 hours after our visit. (I bruise wicked easily). ON the right arm there are even darker bruises, and the bonus of the imprint of his fingers. They’re from “walking nilla to her car” as He grasped the top of my arm in His vise-grip…they are pale purple and don’t photograph well. I Love, LOVE wearing His marks on my skin.
There is something about feeling His pain…I really don’t have words for it. If you’ve been there, done this, then perhaps you understand how…head-clearing it is. Knowing He loves me despite my occasional emotional breakdowns. That He knows what to do to nurture me back to my happy place, and how often that nurturing is pain.
Perhaps that feeds us both.
His face, in the parking lot, was gleeful. The Sadist was having a blast. He was making me yip and wriggle and even, pull away to evade his pinching grip. It fucking hurt! I *NEVER* try to pull away when He is hurting me.
Yet Sunday I did. And He laughed, and got this gleam in His eye…it made me smile to see Him so gleeful, and it did my heart and spirit a world of good to be transformed back from sad nilla, to happy sub/slut once more.
You’ll be happy to know we played “heart war” yet again. He found every one and returned them to me in painfilled ways…gripping my fingers, pressing one into my palm so hard I’m kind of amazed it didn’t embed in my skin…and even now I am wearing one on *my* chest. He put in on my shoulder, and I found it on my way home, and giggled, then stuck it on my tit, over my heart.
That’s almost exactly what it looks like, since I stuck it on while driving, not seeing which way it went. To me, they look like boobage, yanno? I know the shape has also been used for a woman’s ass, but to me, they are tits and cleavage.
Maybe that’s why I keep pressing them on Master, symbolically pressing my tits on him? Hmmm…where’s JM the amazing analyst when you need him, eh?
So, I’m in a good head space, all things being what they are, accepting the place I am in. And ….. today plus 4 more days…..Master and nilla will have a “whomping” good time behind closed doors.
After 7 weeks, I’d say we were ready, eh!?