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Illness and S&M

March 18th, 2008

I’m sick. It figures. Five days off and I’m sick for four of them. Isn’t that always the way?

And I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. That hangy-ball thing in the back of my throat (Yes, I’m aware it has a name. No, I don’t know what it is.) is swollen and red and sore. So are my tonsils and I’m guessing my sinuses since I can’t breathe through my nose to save my life. My throat was sore when I went to bed but not like this. And the hangy-ball thing wasn’t swollen last night either. I didn’t sleep much because I would forget while asleep that I had to put effort into holding my throat open and it would close and I’d lose the ability to breathe completely. I tried sleeping sitting up, lying on my side, lying on my stomach… it just didn’t work.

Somehow I managed to choke down an egg sandwich for breakfast. Despite the heat being excruciating even after it cooled somewhat, I drank a few cups of coffee, too. But now, as much as I want to finish the pot, swallowing is triggering my barely-there gag reflex because of how swollen my throat is. And I’m nauseous. Diagnose me! No… I’m kidding.

But this brings up an interesting topic of discussion. We’ve concluded that the M/s should continue regardless the situation. But what about the S&M? I guess it really depends on the couple and the activity.

Yesterday, Master wanted to play. Being the slave, I have no choice but to comply. And, hey! I’ll take my beatings where I can get them! Positive ones, that is. But yesterday I just seriously was not in the right frame of mind.

My throat hurt. I was tired. I was cranky. I was whining to EVERYONE. Master. The bird. The fish. An old friend I haven’t talked to in ages – Hi, rayna! Smile

When Master pulled the flogger out, I thought, “Something good to focus on!” But the more He hit me with it, the more I wanted to snatch it away and flush it down the toilet. That’d be one hell of a clog!

Even the light strokes felt like He was skinning me alive and I was getting mad. Which was bizarre. Cause I rarely ever get mad during any sort of play. But I wasn’t mad at Master. I was mad at me. I was mad at my inability to get into it. I was mad at my reaction to the flogger, my favorite toy. And I was cursing my illness.

Ow… sneezing hurts my throat. So naturally, I’m gonna get stuck in one of my five-million-sneezes sneezing fits. And here come the chills. Wonder if I’m running a temp. ANYway…

He kept asking if I wanted Him to stop and if I wanted more. I don’t know if He would have stopped if I’d have said yes but it was obvious I was not where I wanted to be mentally. I kept pushing forward. Hoping I’d get over it and stop being a whiny baby. I kept asking for more.

After He came gallons on my face and hair and tits and stomach and legs – One blow job, boys and girls… that much cum should be illegal! But it’s so yummy! – we were standing in the kitchen talking and He started flogging my chest. That I wanted to stop. He was only catching skin with the tips of the tails and it felt like razor blades parting flesh. And then I got visibly annoyed.

I apologized for being bitchy and explained I wasn’t feeling well. He keeps asking if I think He should go easy on me because I’m sick. The answer is no. I don’t. But, as I told Him yesterday, I don’t think He should take it personally that I’m not in the right frame of mind for it, either. It has nothing to do with Him or the flogger or the way He’s doing it or… I’m just not feeling well. And I’m the biggest baby when I don’t feel well.

In our case, I don’t think the S&M should stop simply because I’m sick. If He wants to play with me then He should. Unless I’ve broken every bone in my body or have been mandated away from play for a period of time by a doctor (though we don’t always listen to that either) or something equally dangerous to my ability to function when it’s over, I see no reason for Him to avoid doing something He wants to do.

I may get whiny. I may get angry. I may cry more out of frustration and not being able to get into it than from the pain. But when it’s over and I can step away from it all and really look at what just happened, I’ll be happier that I pleased Him and that He did what He wanted without first consulting me or entertaining my whining than I would have had He stopped because I was whining.

And I’ll respect Him more. Because He continued to do what He wanted with me regardless of my opinion or comfort.

It sounds like it would be more work for Him, I guess. I’m a door and He’s the battering ram and instead of flinging open and allowing Him passage, the door is barricaded and He has to keep hitting it to get through. But that’s part of what’s gotten us in this mess we’re trying to get out of to begin with. Him letting off when I barricade myself in instead of pushing through.

I don’t know… we’ll get there. One way or another.

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