The Pains of Taking Master for Granted

Yanno, I’m the kind of girl who usually appreciates the things around her. I love the slant of sunlight through the golden leaves outside my window. I notice the sound of the birds passing overhead, a flock of geese winging their way south. I appreciate the bright blue of the sky as the gray clouds melt away.

But sometimes–I presume. And primarily?  It happens in my relationship with Master. (Ironically, I tend to NOT do so in my vanilla relationships…perhaps because I have little expectation that my needs will be met there, anyway? But back to Master….)

I try to not “read into” the fact that He doesn’t respond right away to emails or texts. I try not to presume that I’m being ‘ignored’. It’s easy for me to fall into the habit, you see. That, if I don’t get feedback, I slack off on doing a required task. As many of you have said…if they (the Big D’s) don’t give reward or punishment, what is the purpose of something? Where is the payoff? What is it to us?


Rereading that last paragraph–it  sounds like there is an “expectation”…

And I know–down deep inside,  that He will “feed” me, that He knows exactly what I need, and how to dole it out to fulfill me.

And I know that He is just as capable of putting me in a little compartment and forgetting me while He is off doing His other stuff.

And I–well–here’s the thing.

I’m an attention whore.

I think that in all honesty, we all kind of are. We want our Dominants to notice us. Are we being good and need a treat? Are we in trouble and need a hand to set us to rights? Are we being snarky and in need of correction?

I like to think I’m pretty low maintenance. I do like a text a few times a day to know that He is okay. And to check in. Not so much for attention as for connection. We can’t touch IRL most days…and the touch of a text has become a substitute for His hand brushing down my hair, or poking at me.

I take for granted that He will respond to me.

I take for granted that He will always be there…and sometimes get pissy if there is a long lag. Sometimes it is a pissyness born of an innate fear of losing Him. We are, after all, far apart, and I wouldn’t know right away if He was in an accident or injured…

That’s the love/caring part, for me at any rate. I do it with my vanilla family, too. Checking on them, checking in, reaching out. It’s what I do.

I connect.

And then there are those rules.

I have very few.

Ask permission before taking an Orgasm.

Send a morning and evening text.

Write a report of the Orgasm the next day, due sometime before bedtime (He’s lenient of this because my schedule is often crazy, but only to the extent of the hour it must be done–it is always due before the end of the next day…)

That’s pretty much it.

But then — I dunno. It’s not very flattering to say this, but I guess I figured…what the hell.

He doesn’t always reply to them (the O reports).

Maybe He’s not even *reading* them.

Why bother.



I said it out loud.

“Why bother…”

In fairness, sometimes I am forgetful. I live off my auxiliary brain, often (my large white board)…if it’s not on there, I may well forget. It’s the price I pay for juggling multiple jobs, multiple kids, multiple events.

But an O report has been part of our dynamic for forever.

“why bother”…

oh my.

Why, indeed.

This isn’t a vanilla relationship, where I get to pick and choose what I do and don’t do. I have to accept…to…submit…to doing as He says. While I’m not a slave, I’m definitely subservient to Him…and it’s always been that way.

So why balk now?




They all play a role. They all are a part of my internal dynamic. Despite being surrounded by people, I’m often very lonely. It’s been weeks since I managed get away time with Him, and I’m borrowing sadness from the future, when my son goes to college and I don’t have the excuse of being his taxi to arrange hook ups with Master.

Those face time events are really important to me. Necessary. And yes, I’m letting my tomorrow worries take away from my today happiness. *sigh*

If I’m submitting, then I’m giving Him all of me.

Then I’m going to do what He asks of me.

This — this need to give over to another, to hand Him my life and say “do with me what You will”–this was not a light, frivolous decision. I’d been dreaming of this for a year, before ever dabbling my toe in the water of submission.

He is perfect for me, even if He isn’t always perfect (He’ll smack me for that one!)…just as I believe that I’m perfect for Him, despite my lack of  being a perfect submissive.

You all know my stance on “perfection” anyway, right? There is no such critter. Perfection is a pipe dream, a seeking that it totally unattainable, and therefore, stupid. 🙂 Yes. Stupid to seek perfection. There is only the “perfection of now”–since we are all in a constant state of evolution and change. We experience, and we grow and adapt through those experiences.

Submission is not about perfection. It is about intent. It is about supplanting my wants for His. It is about…giving Him the all of me…even the not-so-pretty parts. The annoyance, the frustration, the fears I have. They’re just as much a part of me as the listening, creative, giggly slut.

I’ve learned a very valuable lesson at His direction last night. Following the rules is much better than the punishments He can create.

The text that He sent me was simple, direct and to the point.

Anal plug (the larger of the two that I have). Clothespins on my belly. Clamps on my nipples. Get as close to an orgasm without actually having one (and I’ve damn near perfected the timing on them, so it causes total wracking agony to stop…yet stop I do. I’m proud to say I’ve never had an “oops” and spilled over that fragile edge.)

I didn’t want to do it.

dreaded  doing it. The second night of a “half-orgasm” is so much worse than the first night. Add in an anal plug, which turns me on despite the discomfort, and all the other pain-points? And I’m torn between pain…and the pleasure of enduring it for Him. Ohmahgawd, the pain of taking Master for granted, in full, living Technicolor, writhing in my bed.

Add in a vibe on the clit?


It hurts.

It hurts so damn good. Pain, wrapped in pleasure. Desire, warring with the need to not get carried away. The need to “pay attention, slut”…”

And isn’t that the full lesson here?

I need to pay attention.

Because for real?

He does.

6 thoughts on “The Pains of Taking Master for Granted

  1. Oh….I have so been there….recently. A daily report has been one of my rules for years…..i did not send 2 in a row last week. When He inquired why, my response……”What’s the point?” Physical punishment is not possible right now, but i was certainly reminded what the point was in no uncertain terms. It is what we count , what we need them for…that connection….to let us know why we bother….what the point is.
    hugs abby

  2. I have the same thoughts – but a different reaction. I become needier, clingier, desperate for more Domination. Either way, our job is to submit. /sigh. It ain’t always easy, though.

  3. Wow. I could have written your post. I have been struggling with accepting what I get but really had trouble with it last week. I did pay the price! I always seem to want more. Even if it is just a little something that tells me is fine and that he hasn’t compartmentalized me for too long. Reading your blog has really helped me feel I’m not alone when it comes to this particular struggle.

    • Hi Betsy…so sorry it took so long to respond to your comment. LIfe=-hectic=- you know how it goes.

      We — needy sluts that we are–are always wanting more. THEY like us greedy. Needy. Wanton. Sometimes it must get annoying but hell, I figure, they want it, they have to deal with the downside of it, right?


      and yes…it is hard from our side too..since we NEEEd so intensely.

      I’m glad you felt less ‘alone’ in your struggle. Trust me, you are NOT the only one.


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