Home > Rayne > Crying In My Coffee

Crying In My Coffee

January 8th, 2007

Enough avoidance. Iâ??m crying. Iâ??m crying over fucking
everything. That old adage about not crying over spilled milk? Yeah well, I
dropped the half gallon of milk when pouring myself a cup of coffee and some of
it spilled. I cried over that. I cried because I felt compelled to say â??Thank
you, Master.� when I was allowed to get the cup of coffee in the first place. Like
â??Thank youâ? when I should be grateful should be that much of a kick in
the teeth. Iâ??m crying because Iâ??m not allowed to go to lunch with Master and
His coworker because I threw a temper tantrum last night (during which I was
also crying as soon as Master walked out the door and couldnâ??t see the tears).
And now Iâ??m crying over the possibility that the father that sold me for five
grand is dead. Whatâ?¦ the fuck?

If I can calm the fuck down, this will be a combined postâ?¦
transgression and the rest of the â??Sexual Submissionâ? post. If not, youâ??ll just
get the transgression and the rest of â??Sexual Submissionâ? will have to wait.
And no, Iâ??m not trying to make you believe Iâ??ve gone this long without getting
in trouble. Iâ??ve just gone this long without remembering to post it.

Master has this thing where He has to have the sheet
perfectly stretched on the mattress with no wrinkles. I even have little clips
that hook on to the mattressâ??s seam to keep it from shifting at night. He also
has to have the top sheet and whatever blankets are on the bed lined up exactly
so that each hem rests perfectly against each other. And once Heâ??s in the bed,
He folds the top of the sheet and blankets over to rest under His arms. That,
as you might have guessed, has to be perfectly straight as well. All the way
across the bed. Even on my side. Though Iâ??m not real sure how the way my side
of the bed is arranged can affect Him, He says it does. Well, no, usually He
says it doesnâ??t matter if it affects Him or not. It will be the way He wants it
because He wants it that way. Sometimes I think that, secretly, He does it to
drive me bat shit. It works.

And letâ??s not forget that we have two full size mattress
pads that are older than dirt on a queen size mattress. And weâ??ll add to that
the two twin size comforters draped over the whole of the bed to add to the
padding. And on top of that, a queen size padded mattress protector made for a
standard queen and not an oversized mattress. â??Fixingâ? the bed is a huge ordeal
that could all be avoided (mostly) by buying new, good quality things that are
made for the bed.

Heâ??s not always utterly anal about it. Only slightly anal.
But when Heâ??s anal about it, boy is He anal about it.

Yesterday, I fixed the bed shortly after we got up. My
intention was to lay something on it that He could beat me with and maybe Heâ??d
walk in and decide He wanted to use it during the course of the day. Itâ??s my
way of saying â??I want to be beat.â? without completely laying open the part of
me that really wants to carry it to Him in my mouth and beg for Him to use it
on me. Or at the very least, Iâ??d hoped that maybe weâ??d go to bed early enough
that seeing it there would appeal to Him and Heâ??d beat me before sleep. He didnâ??t
notice it until 2amâ?¦ when He finally walked into the bedroom to go to bed. He
paddled me a few times with it and put it away.

If I wasnâ??t already indignant about that, imagine my
annoyance when he peeled back the covers and saw that the bottom sheet had
popped off the bottom corner of the bed. His half-stern, half-playful look
added a small amount of fuel to the fire, but I got up and adjusted the whole
mess of bedclothes with the intent of appeasing Him. It didnâ??t work. As soon as
I stepped away, He found something else that would make His sleeping
arrangements uncomfortable. And I threw a tantrum.

I meanâ?¦ I threw a tantrum.

It didnâ??t last long. Matter of fact, it lasted as long as it
took me to literally yank all the covers off the bed and toss them at His feet.
But it was enough to piss Him off. And why shouldnâ??t it? This isnâ??t some new
thing He sprung on me at two in the morning on His last day off of the weekend.
This is something Iâ??ve been doing almost as long as weâ??ve been together. I
think He secretly did it Himself when we first got together so I wouldnâ??t realize
how utterly OCD He is. But regardless, this is something He told me to do. Who
the fuck am I to bitch about it?

I offered to buy Him a nice mattress pad for Christmas. He
declined, stating that Iâ??d be unable to resist the urge to buy the matching pea
(Get it? The Princess and the Pea? Laugh, damn it! Why, yes! Yes, I am PMSing.
How could you tell?).

Of course, I realized right away my mistake. He told me to
knock it off and walked out of the room. Though Iâ??m sure there was more to what
He actually said than just â??Knock it offâ?, I just donâ??t remember His exact

He tried to take Violet away from me (a teddy bear He and I
made at Build A Bear Workshop â?? proceeds from the shell we used for Violet go
to Cancer research), which was more a way of opening up conversation than
literally trying to take her from me. But I was still so embarrassed, hurt,
upset, annoyed, that all I did was do that baby â??Nnnfâ? noise little kids make
when you try to take their favorite toy or pull their pacifier from their
mouths. He half-seriously suggested taking Violet away from me for real and I
almost started crying again.

Violet is my second best friend. I tell her all my secrets
when Heâ??s not looking. Sometimes I carry her around the house with me when Heâ??s
not home and put her away before He gets home so He doesnâ??t see how much of a
child I am. He lit up my world when He brought her to me in the hospital. I
intentionally didnâ??t ask for her because I didnâ??t want Him to know how much of
a baby I am. I guess He already knew because she was the first thing He handed
me after His first trip home.

I think Iâ??ll go get her now.

Ooooâ?¦ Hootie!

Master pointed out that itâ??s kind of silly that I have to be
punished over something so stupid. And Heâ??s right. And Iâ??d love to chalk it up
to PMS and not have to open this gaping wound that Iâ??ve already stitched closed
over whatâ??s really festering under the surface. But the fact of the matter is Iâ??m
going through a wild range of emotions that I had before I was PMSing but have
become intensified because of my stupid monthly curse.

Now Iâ??m crying over Hootie. Blah.

I donâ??t know why I make Master push me before I finally spit
out whatâ??s on my mind. And I always wield my thoughts and emotions like a
sword. And I make the act of saying them appear to be an attempt to hurt Him. When
really itâ??s just me finally letting go and opening another little piece of me
to Him. And Iâ??m not real sure why I have to be an emotional mess to do that. Maybe
I havenâ??t let Him in as much as I thought I had.

This battle gets tiresome. Iâ??m sure it does for Him too. What
am I protecting? He already owns me. Thereâ??s nothing more intimate than that. So
why, when He starts to peek over certain walls, do I start building them

And I wish I could say â??If you do this, I will be laid
completely open for you and all of this struggling will be over with!� The
truth is, I have no idea how to stop it. I donâ??t intentionally keep secrets or
hide things from Him. Noâ?¦ I
do, but I donâ??t do it with the intent of breaking His rules.
I donâ??t
know why I do it, except to protect something I donâ??t have the right to
protect. Something I donâ??t own anymore.

I donâ??t want this. I donâ??t want this constant fear of
letting go. I donâ??t want to be afraid to say whatâ??s on my mind. I donâ??t want to
feel like I need to hide behind this façade of the perfect slave when really
all I feel like lately is a wife whoâ??s occasionally controlled by her Husband.

Iâ??m freaking out because I think Heâ??s lost the desire to be
sadistic with me. Iâ??m driving myself crazy because I feel like Heâ??d rather just
give up on me. Iâ??m sitting back and watching Him after I do something blatantly
against the rules and staring with incredulity when He doesâ?¦ nothing. And then
when He shows interest in another woman Iâ??m clamming up because all I can think
is â??Hey, wait a minute! Youâ??re not even interested in making me do what Iâ??m
supposed to anymore. Youâ??re just gonna move on?â? And then while I sit and think
about how thatâ??s His right, I tear myself apart for ever allowing myself to be
so out of line that itâ??s become a viable option in His mind.

Somehow, I start making everything my fault. Everything He
does must have been influenced by some screw up. He likes some other girl
because Iâ??m not a good slave. Or because Iâ??m not good enough. Or because I
threw a temper tantrum over having to make the bed.

Anywayâ?¦ this is long enough. Looks like youâ??ll have to wait
another day or so for the conclusion of â??Sexual Submissionâ?. Iâ??ve got some
things to process.

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