TMI Tuesday

Last week there was a lot of drama in nillaville. Rough times, my friends. And nilla? Well….I’m a VERY emotional woman. Slut. Wife. Mother. I cry at Kleenex commercials, right? And things pile up and I tried  to “suck it up”. Actually i *did* suck it up. And then…

Guess what?

There comes a point when there is no more room for suckage to fit.  Master happened to be the one who hit the jackpot, and reaped the emotional firestorm.  I didn’t do something He had wanted me to do, and didn’t realize it was a Rule. Now I have been educated. And I reacted by crying my eyeballs out, and … saying hyper-emotional things like “if you don’t like me then take back my collar…”

To which He responds, in an altogether normal way…”so, you’re in one of your nilla moods, eh?”

He allowed me space to roll through the emotions, and supported me, and …  helped me through it. By not reacting to my breakdown, he got  me through it. I’d not shared my week from hell with Him. My bad. He had no idea where “it” (the mood) had begun. It didn’t change the fact that I’d fucked up on a task He expected of me, but it helped Him understand my reaction.  And i understood, after we talked some, where He was coming from. And i (ahem…) told Him it wasn’t fair.

*pregnant pause here*

Did your mouth just fall open in shock upon reading that? I know, I can barely believe I said it. And not just once, either.

(insert whiney voice here)

“But Master, that’s not fair. You didn’t make it a rule. You can’t say I fucked up if it’s not a rule. It’s just not fair.”

Do you know what He did?

Can you guess?

He laughed, the fucker.


He knows *exactly* how to diffuse me. “Fair? There is no fair here, little girl. It’s My way. I promised you several things…and fair was not one of them.”

And then He laughed again, “Fair!” He scoffed. And yanno?

He’s full-on right.

He’s the boss. Capital B Boss. Boss of me.

So now I have two new rules. Always  a picture on HNT Thursday. Always. Without exception.

And never, ever, let my pique with Him spill over into not sending Him a morning text.  I can text Him that I’m still mad, or sad, or call Him a prick. (Though I’ll pay for that if I do!)…but staying in communication is mandatory.

Yes, Master. *smiling*


We had face time on Sunday morning. It’s never very long, these little meetings, perhaps an hour or so. I have my tea, He has His coffee. He hugged me and kissed me, all the while,  grabbing my soft waist with his fingers, and pinching hard. As I climb to my tiptoes with the sudden surprising (and hurty) pain, He jokes about my going from 5’1″ to 5’6″ instantly.

ha ha.

It hurt, coz, yanno? I’m out of pain practice. Oh, sure, I’ve pegged my nipples plenty in these last 6 weeks, but real pain?

Master pain?

Nah. Not much…maybe a pinch here or there, a hand grab, a finger pinch. This was “full on” Master. Later He said that He was holding back. Way back. Um. Um. Really?

If that’s the case, then pray for me next Sunday, ya’ll!!

Left under arm…and the photo is a bit over-exposed, those are really darker. Yes, I took this photo about 5 hours after our visit.  (I bruise wicked easily).  ON the right arm there are even darker bruises, and the bonus of the imprint of his fingers. They’re  from “walking nilla to her car” as He grasped  the top of my arm in His vise-grip…they are pale purple and don’t photograph well. I Love, LOVE wearing His marks on my skin.

There is something about feeling His pain…I really don’t have words for it. If you’ve been there, done this, then perhaps you understand how…head-clearing it is. Knowing He loves me despite my occasional emotional breakdowns.  That He knows what to do to nurture me back to my happy place, and how often that nurturing is pain.

Perhaps that feeds us both.

His face, in the parking lot, was gleeful. The Sadist was having a blast. He was making me yip and wriggle and even, pull away to evade his pinching grip. It fucking hurt!  I *NEVER* try to pull away when He is hurting me.

Yet Sunday I did. And He laughed, and got this gleam in His eye…it made me smile to see Him so gleeful, and it did my heart and spirit a world of good to be transformed back from sad nilla, to happy sub/slut once more.

You’ll be happy to know we played “heart war” yet again. He found every one and returned them to me in painfilled ways…gripping my fingers, pressing one into my palm so hard I’m kind of amazed it didn’t embed in my skin…and even now I am wearing one on *my* chest. He put in on my shoulder, and I found it on my way home, and giggled, then stuck it on my tit, over my heart.

That’s almost exactly what it looks like, since I stuck it on while driving, not seeing which way it went. To me, they look like boobage, yanno? I know the shape has also been used for a woman’s ass, but to me, they are tits and cleavage.

Maybe that’s why I keep pressing them on Master, symbolically pressing my tits on him? Hmmm…where’s JM the amazing analyst when you need him, eh?


So, I’m in a good head space, all things being what they are, accepting the place I am in. And ….. today plus 4 more days…..Master and nilla will  have a “whomping” good time behind closed doors.

After 7 weeks, I’d say we were ready, eh!?

An Admission of Guilt….

*big sigh*

i so truly hate fucking up. And when it is totally, completely avoidable? Yeah. It’s official:   i’ve  turned in my “perfect subbie” card…i always knew i wasn’t really a member of that club….and now i’ve gone and proven it once more.

Got to go back a few weeks… Back to when i’ve “finished” my diet, happy with the 40 pounds i lost. And had a party…wooot wooott…no more diet…Rut Ro. Most of my party involved my old nemesis, ice cream. There were other friends who came  along too, namely Mr. Potato Chip, and Ms. Tortilla Chip. And it was a party that didn’t seem to end…

the upshot is that i  gained 5 pounds back.


and i knew i needed to draw a line, get back to the discipline that got me here coz there is NO FUCKING WAY i’m going back down that road. i just am not gonna go.

What is a submissive to do, but turn to her Master?  He takes his ownership most seriously. After some thought, He’s limited me to three small treats a week. And NO potato chips.

Did you see it? the loophole? i’m telling you here and now, if you leave a food fanatic a loophole, we’re just gonna find it, drive our truck through it and run…

And guess who came to party? Riiiiight. Ms. Tortilla Chip. And yes, i did tell him about it.


Rather than *going* to Him.


Bad move. Stoooopid move.  Since it was only a small mishap, (140 cal bag, thank goodness) i only had to sacrifice one of my three treats. i’d already had one, and then chose to have my second allowed treat early.

Which was fine. i was fine. Down two pounds my first week! Woot!

And then i opened the glass jar on the table. How was *i* to know that yet another  old friend had come to call? A friend i’ve not seen here in 2 years?

Mr. Cadbury Mini Egg.


One would have been bad. One would have gotten me a verbal *smack*, for going over my allotted treats. But would have (likely) been quickly forgiven.

Instead, i ate nine.

142.5 calories.

Now, i’ll grant you, that’s not a lot of calories, and easily burned off in my walking time. But really it’s not *about* the calories this time, is it?

i’ve spent the better part of today (Friday) feeling very bad. Not crushed, mind you. He was very careful not to crush me. But i’ve been soundly remonstrated. Because, His manner with me is light, and i mistook “light” as “not worried about my transgression”…which was just simply not the case.

He was greatly unhappy about it.

i disrespected Him, His rules for me, and that is the crux of the issue.

NOT the calories.

NOT the chocolate.

NOT the overage of the treat itself.

But my cavalier attitude about His rules. My rules.

i’ve spent the day in contemplation. Losing the respect of your Master for a day tends to snap one back into supreme focus, and that has certainly been the case. i’ve apologized, certainly. i’ve been treated kindly, but firmly, and somewhat ignored, which i hate.

Despite being together for almost 18 months, we’re still learning each other. i’ve learned that when He’s mad, He doesn’t yell…His voice gets silky. He’s learned that i have issues regarding self-discipline.  i’ve learned that when He makes a rule…He means it, and i shouldn’t push back on it.

i’ve begun to really feel the chains of my submission, and i’m happy they are there, and i embrace them…and when i dishonor them, dishonor Him…they get pretty fucking heavy.

So i will sit, hands under my ass, working hard to prove to Him that i *am* His “good girl” once more. That His property has enough self-respect for herself to take good care of His property….a convoluted way of saying, when i eat badly, treat my body badly, don’t exercise, i can potentially damage His property.

i wouldn’t do that if i borrowed something from a friend, i’d treat it carefully, and return it in good shape.

Now i just need to turn that same kind of care to myself…and show Master that i can, and will take care of what is for now and always, His property.