Remember I was grumpy and whiny? Done and over once the tummy bug hit. Remember the update saying why I was grumpy and that things were better?
That means you’re all up to date. 🙂 I’m good. I’m almost 100 per cent good. Like..98%.
It’s that little 2% that is in my thoughts, the 2% that Master is holding in his hands.
See, I’m supposed to write an “Orgasm Report” after every O. And I’ve been amazingly diligent, sending them faithfully.
And He never…okay, perhaps not never, but rarely, responds. So…eventually I figure, hell, He’s not reading these fucking things. But I kept writing them because as a Dom AND as my Master?
He’s pretty fucking sneaky.
I may forget a lot of things, but I’ve never consciously underestimated Him. He is WAY smarter than I am, WAY better at this whole D/s dynamic, WAY better at “getting” me than I get me.
So I plug along, writing the reports. Some are dry, a recitation of the mechanics. What toys, the feelings, etc. Some – well – even for *me* it’s embarrassing to let my deepest fantasies out to Him. But once in a while I’ll post that to Him.
But this morning (Wednesday) I forgot. I was feeling pretty blucky when I first crawled out of bed. This stupid virus thing isn’t about heaving, but just a queasy belly, and headache and dizzy, and just feeling blerg.
So I forgot to sit down and write my o report, which is a shame because it was a pretty fucking awesome orgasm. No squirty (this seems to be the new female orgasm achievement, Jz mentions it here in her hysterical post, and you really should go read it…) but it was one of those whole-body pulsing rip-roaring orgasms that sent me right to sleep afterwards, with a big-assed smile on my face.
Until, you know, the whole wake-up-in-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning thing.
So dammit, I forgot.
It’s a valid excuse.
Note the word choice there. Excuse. It’s not really a reason. There is no reason why I couldn’t write the email. I commented on blogs, I wrote on facebook, I even wrote my mini update.
But I didn’t write that fucking email.
And tonight I spoke to Him. I asked Him if I could have an O, since tomorrow is the ever-dreaded ZNN.
“I don’t believe there was an O-Report in my “in” box today.” He says.
“I had no idea You read those, Master.”
“I couldn’t read it. It wasn’t here.”
“I wasn’t feeling very good this morning, Master.”
“And I’m sorry you were unwell. But there is no O report in my in box. So no, you may not have an orgasm tonight. I sit here, and know eventually you will fuck up, nilla. You’ll get lazy or bored or something…and you’ll find out that I’m still sitting here and watching you.”
Now, doesn’t that make my little submissive heart go pitter-patter? I mean, my gawd…He’s watching. He’s paying attention. Even when I think maaaybe He’s forgotten He owns a needy slut. I got goosebumps when He said it.
And dammit, I really wanted that O.
But I really want Him and His approval, and to please Him, more than my own selfish pussy.
Here are the two pix I sent Him last night before and after the wonderous O…they are NOT an O report, but a …um…well…you know.
First, the offering:
They won’t “buy back” my missing O…but I’m sure He’s got it filed away somewhere under “nilla fuck-up number XYZ”.
He’s watching. He’s spinning His web. He’s holding me, binding me, in these invisible chains. I’m good with this. Because it means that I’m His, that even when I don’t see or feel the clamps or the weight of the chains…they’re still there. And every once in a while He’ll pull them tight, and remind me of their presence.