I’ve been breaking a rule. Occasionally. And not really with intent, but then again, isn’t neglect a form of intent? I didn’t make it a *priority* and that smacks of intent to me.
He is a huge sports fan. He’ll let me have O’s if His teams do well, or take them away if they suck. I know, not fair at all…but this is at HIS whim, so fair isn’t really part of the equation, now, is it? 🙂 The Red Sox (baseball, Sofia!) are doing pretty well as they head ever closer to the World Series. Since they won yesterday, I asked Master if I could have an extra O.
I get a reply after a while. (and I’m paraphrasing as my phone and I are not together as I type this)
“Well, slut, I did consider that, actually. But the thing is, I seem to be missing an O report….”
Yes, He *is* missing an O report.
(how embarrassing to type this)
Last week I had been too tired to have an O, and postponed it until Wednesday night. And then I forgot. I wrote that little bit about it here. But…I NEVER SENT IT TO MASTER. OH dear. OH my.
So today I wrote about it to Him, with an apology.
And He’s been poking at me (every bit as effectively as if He was standing next to me and poking me) via text.
And the kicker is that I didn’t take my O *this* Tuesday either. I had plans to take it tonight.
Those plans have been changed.
I’m being punished.
With the dreaded “half Orgasm”…
And on the eve of ZNN.
You may remember the “half-o”…when I pound the pussy almost to the point of orgasm…and stop.
NO falling over the edge.
NO oops allowed.
Just lay there, wanton, needy, craven, and pissed.
And will spend all day Thursday needing release.
And maybe even Friday before He gives me permission to use the O in the bank and release some of the tension building up in my nether regions.
Or maybe not.
See, Master isn’t the kind of Dom that gets angry.
He gets even.
Sometimes I forget how totally mean He can be. I’m too smart to be that dumb. *shaking my head* He’s a sadist, nilla! And I get caught up in the vanilla aspects of our relationship. The conversations, the family sharing, the day-to-day, and I forget that He’s also my Dom, not just my friend. I forget that He can put His foot (real or metaphorically) on my neck and say “enough, slut”.
And of course, it turns me on, the lowering of the hammer. The jerking of my collar. The reminder that really? I’m His slut. And though He gives me a ton of leeway on my leash? He’ll jerk it short if I fuck up.
And maybe sometimes just for the fun of it.
So even if He can’t stand next to me tonight to punish my thoughtlessness? Even though He can’t mark me, pinch me, spank me?
Well, sometimes the small “s” on the other side of the slash stands for “duh, nilla, sometimes you’re kinda stupid, yanno”
Under it all, I know He loves me. Why else would I get a heart-shaped bruise from Him? Hmmm?