The Gullible Slut

I am an organized woman. Now…I’m not a …. I’m not sure of the term…obsessive/compulsive? kind of organized person, and on our family calendar, the different appointments of various family members are not color coded (okay, yet, but ….) but I know what day who’s  supposed to be where and what time to arrive.  I can pretty much find what I need because I put it away the last time I used it. I know where the tp is, and how many are left, and if there are still raisins in the cupboard. I know who’s sox are who’s, and all the other sorts of stuff an organized housewife has a handle on.

In a family of six, with several pets, and a wide range of hobbies, obligations etcetera, being organized is the only way to stay on track. That sounds defensive, I know.

Because–well, I know that not everyone is fretting about next week. Or next month. Or tomorrow. SOME of you have managed that graceful, and totally enviable place of living in the moment. Yes. I desperately envy that.  But life is what it is, and my evolution as an organized person came about as various kiddo’s joined the clan.

Master is an “in the moment” guy. He is not Zen about it, nor Buddhist. It is just His way. He lives in the “now”, and isn’t going to bank on tomorrow. Or next week. Or even, next month. So coming at our relationship from these polar-opposite places? Can be a challenge.

My organizing things makes Him nuts.

His lack of “keeping me in the loop” makes me mental.



There is that one *key* element here that hasn’t been figured into the equation above. No, not that I’m submissive, though that is (and should be) a factor.

It’s that I am, to the extreme, gullible.

Tell me anything and I’m more than half-likely to believe it (unless it is a science fact– it’s a pretty good bet that I know you’re trying to trick me there–i’m really good at science!). Then, iffin you say that it’s MASTER telling me, you KNOW I’m going to nod and say okay…here’s my Dom, telling me information and I need to buy into it.

*shakes head*

He KNOWS how gullible I am, and uses this as an endless source of amusement. (He’s going to read this for Himself before I post it, and He’s going to say I’m appealing for the sympathy vote with that sentence!! And, um, maybe I am. 🙂  *laughs*)

But really? If your Dom/Master/Sir/Top says something, aren’t you kinda sorta going to believe it?

Where am I going with this, you ask? Just setting the background for a Master and nilla story.  I know how much you all enjoy Him. (It won’t be as much as I do, but still, He’s that kind of likeable guy, I know!)

So where was I? Right, our meeting this past weekend.  We’d planned to meet midmorning, but there was a family thing that I had to do, and He is adamant that the kids have to come first. This is rule one for us both. So…there I am, done with my obligation and wondering where I need to head to meet up with Master.

Driving, I call Him. I’m sure He’s somewhere close-ish.

“Didn’t you find the map?”


I am bemused.

“Yeah, the map I placed in the back of your car. You’re driving the roller skate, right?”

“uh…yes, Master….but…” I pause. I know my brows are drawn into little quizzical bows the way they do, and my face is all puckered up since I’m thinking really hard. I know He knew where I was. I know He makes a “run” into the city to do a mercy errand every weekend. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility….I continue, still bemused.

“What map, Master?”

“It’s like a treasure map, nilla. In the backseat of the car under the kid seat. Find your way through the map and you’ll find your Master.”

“A map. In my car.”

“Yes, nilla….and you know what they say about maps?”


By now I must sound like the absolutely most slow person on the planet. My mind is both whirling like a dervish, and sluggish as all get out, the ping-pong game of submissive vs mom going all out.

“X marks the spot nilla.” His tone is a bit pedantic. Exactly a perfect mix of smug and lecturing the poor, slightly handicapped slut.

“Right. I…knew that.”

I pull over (not having gone onto the highway yet, and turn in my seat. I lift up the booster seat. Nothing. Lean around and peer at the floor, the other seat. Nothing.

“Master, where?”


“Master…Where the fuck are you? I don’t see a map here.”

He literally *explodes* in laughter. So hard I can barely understand Him.

“You—laughlaughlaugh–actually–guffawguffaw–looked–laugh-laugh-laugh–for a–hahahahahahahahaha–map?”

Oh, He is quite pleased with Himself, my Master. Totally bamboozled me (again), made me all embarrassed, and giggly and naturally, turned on. Not sure WHY Him fucking with my head that way is a turn on–but dammit, my pussy was soaked. I pull back into traffic and get onto the highway, the sounds of His joyous laughter ringing in my ear. It’s a short hop from where I am to the “split” where you have to go either east or west. I’m getting closer and closer and then…I’m almost to the “critical point” on the highway by now, and I need to know…am I to go east or west?  My tone is likely a cross between panic and annoyed.

“North,” He says.

“What? There is NO north Master. ”

He laughs.

“nilla, you know I’m no good with directions.”

And I know He’s just *that* good with fucking with me.

“Master,” I moan piteously…”I’m almost at the edge of where I need to turn…”


He *finally* tells me whether to go east or west on the highway, (east was the correct direction) and in jig time we’re together.

Yup. I found Him.

Without any fucking map.


The Bastard!