A Jibe at Master — Payback’s a Bitch!

Last weekend we were anticipating snow here. It was starting as I drove home from work, talking to Him on the phone.

“Has it started down your way yet, Master?”

“OH, only about three, three and a half feet, nilla.”

“I didn’t ask how tall you were, Master. I asked how much snow you’d gotten.”

*dead silence*

I held my breath…

and then

He laughed.

Laughed like crazy.

“Good one, slut, verrrry good.”

He repeats the little exchange to me.

“You know that will cost you when next we meet behind closed doors.”

“Not if you forget.”

He repeats it back to me, again. A strategy I recognize as I do it myself. He’s locking that sucker into his long-term memory.

Additionally, there’s been a sudden upsurge in half-O’s, those nasty little fuck-gasms…where I can masturbate almost until I cum…

and then must stop.

On a fuckin’ dime.

No oops…

just denial, torture, torment.

I have 12 fucking o’s in the O-Bank..and am forbidden to use them on a Half-O night. So he can enjoy the full use of my torture.

And he’s added a butt plug to the half-O this time, which I hate.

And, yanno. Love.

Coz I’m just that contrary a cunt.

It hurts, oh, okay…it’s a discomfort and not a true hurt…but it also very much ratchets up the turn-on factor for me.

It’s a win-lose (which makes it a win win in that oh so confusing submissive masochistic way) for me, and a win-WIN for Him.

I also text Him (required) immediately after the supreme frustration of stopping. Immediately. He LOVES it when I swear and piss and moan and crab about Him being an asshole.

See? I’m not the only perverted one playing this game.

It takes two to tango…and two to tangle.

And we’re really really tangled.