I sent Him an angsty text late Friday night. I was feeling lonely and unsexual and unsubmissive and just blue.
He wasn’t up of course; it was nearing one in the morning. I was awake from the pounding rain on my roof, and was restless in my bed.
Over-thinking at one in the morning is a sluts prerogative once in a while, right?
The next morning He sent me a kind note..”I’m used to your mood swings by now, you know this too shall pass,” and that sort of thing. Which was immediately followed by a quick sharp slap.
“Knock it the fuck off.”
I needed that.
And Sunday night we got some face-to-face time. He had a task for me to do (vanilla, yet very helpful to Him) which earned me an O. (Yes!)
He’s taken to a wee stroke of sadistic genius. There have been two “give the slut an O” occasions this weekend. But the caveat is that, if I am too tired to use it, I cannot bank it. And the offer always expires at midnight. It’s a use-it-or-lose-it scenario. I like that. I like having those tight constraints. One would think, going to bed around 10, 1030, that there would be plenty of time. But I have a book I’m reading, and I have puttering to do, and I read on my phone, and start blog-cruising and before I know it…it’s 1130. Or worse, 1145. Or even worse, 12:15. Thankfully, I was able to get in both O’s, making certain that I used it.
A lost O is a terrible sad waste, don’t you think?
And since He is fairly parsimonious about giving them out, I would not want Him to think that they were not important to me…because they so, so, SO are!!
I went to sleep last night with a wet spot on my sheets. And a big smile on my face. Oh, not from the O, or not totally.
During our time together, I managed to tag Him with a wee pink heart, without Him noticing it there on His shoulder.
And I didn’t text Him about it until this morning.
SCORE! one for the slut.