Quiet Sunday

The Man is away this weekend. (insert pouty face here) Gods, I am so fucking needy!  Between His schedule and mine, we’ve not even managed a playdate since early February…and April is  not looking good, nor early May.

I kid you not.

This would be the longest stretch, ever, of no playdates. Mostly? It’s my fault…I have two very public venue’s coming up about three weeks apart, one in April, the other in early May. They’ll require being in short sleeves, or maybe even tank tops if it gets hot again, and no way to hide bruises. He and i are pretty brutal together…

But…He is finding ways to fill me. Our Sunday’s at Starbucks go a long way to keeping us connected. There are always bits of pain measured out with the coffee and tea. Lots of domination, both subtle, and overt. Lots of ways that He makes me feel…His.

Even in the texts He sends…Saturday night I really wanted an O. Wasn’t sure I was going to get one, I often don’t. Yet He continually surprises me, my Master! I got an O…but with caveats. Pain. Pegs on areas that were pegged and tortured Friday night. He won’t let me peg my nipples, which I really like. He throws control around like some people do confetti…and I love that.

I need to be dominated.

I need to be hurt, ordered around, and loved. I need …Him.

This week, mid-week, He was in my area for a work meeting. Seven minutes from my house. And somehow…it worked out that we could have a wee bit of face time. Not much…my kids were home. Thankfully, I have a teenager who is good about watching the younger kids for a short while, no worries that I’m neglecting my kids over my Master!

But even 15 minutes in the parking lot was good. Just to kiss, to be pinched, to touch one another.

And great Goddess…that Man looks so fucking awesome in a suit! Nom nom nom…! How wonderful, on a week when I knew there would be no Starbucks on Sunday, for there to be a way to carve out some smidgen of time.

This was a really really REALLY awful week for me. I had a ginormously abnormal amount of stress from work…from something that I didn’t start, cause, promote…that left me feeling sad, angry, stressed, stomach hurting, head throbbing….and since the wife was part of it all…I didn’t have a way to package up those feelings and put them somewhere. And Master has been so so so busy. I debated a long while before I finally sent a text.

Master? I need You. Need advice. If You have time for me?

It was late evening before I ever sent Him the text. I sent it when I knew He would be at the gym, and then got all angsty about sending the damned thing.

He knows I’m needy.

He knows I’m greedy for Him.

But this was a vanilla-life thing, and I don’t usually turn to anyone for that sort of thing. I pull up my big girl panties and deal with it. But my kids had also had a terrible day, and made me cry, and made me mad, and it all piled on.

I know, this sounds like a terrible pity party, doesn’t it? And I didn’t even send out invitations!

I can handle one thing. I can handle a few things….but when *everyfuckingthing* falls apart? No. I can’t handle that. I shut down, collapse inward, become a non-communicative  zombie.  That’s the place where there are no more tears. No more words to utter in shock or disbelief.  It was too cold to walk, to late to do anything. I couldn’t think of Yoga breath, or anything to soothe. I (this might shock you) couldn’t even eat.

I went to bed, feeling defeated. Feeling…kind of dead, actually. And there was the text.

call Me.

It had just come in, like 2 minutes prior to my coming upstairs. I called Him. Hesitantly told Him what was going on.

Go on, tell Me all of it, nilla

And i cried (He hates when i cry…not in an uncaring way, but because He can’t always fix it…), and told Him the whole of it.

And we talked.

He is a smart, smart Man. He came to the conclusion much faster that I had, about how to deal with the issue, and got me over it. And then made me giggle by suggesting putting postage stamps on the kids foreheads and writing “Australia” or “Mongolia” on their faces…

It was just silly enough to push me the rest of the way back to “normal”. It was the perfect thing to say, the perfect blend of humor and caring.

And lest I get (got?) totally settled into the idea that we were talking Vanillaverse stuff, and we were “equals”….

At one point I started talking and He very quickly cut me off.

Shut up, nilla. This is *MY* world now…

He pulls me back to my proper place, under His care, at His feet…and that’s the perfect place to me to be.