The sun came up this morning and kissed the clear blue sky. It pressed a smile to my face with its rising and as soon as Master was out the door I threw open the blinds. I am elated to see its return, however brief.

It was out yesterday peeking from behind the many gray clouds I assumed were the next storm we’re to be mauled by, but that was no where near good enough for me and my S.A.D. (on top of PMS). Winter in New York is mostly gray skies and blustery winds mixed in with lots of water in one form or another. I hate it here.

When we first moved in here (the new apartment) I would get up, start the coffee and go sit either on the toilet or the floor in our tiny bathroom so I could talk to Master while He showered. When He was finished, I’d go make breakfast, lay out His clothes, pour Him a travel mug of coffee and snuggle and kiss and cuddle till He walked out the door.

Once He was gone, I’d grab the phone and light up my first cigarette of the morning as I opened the back door and sat on the porch. Usually on the stoop. I was in too much of a hurry to talk to Him to go looking for a chair I could take outside (they’re in a closet but I couldn’t ever remember which one). And then I’d call Him. And we’d talk till He got to work, when I’d put out my cigarette, go inside and pull up Pidgin so I could talk to Him on AIM.

Eventually, as both of us got more and more comfortable with where we’re headed, I stopped. Hell, I rarely even get His clothes together anymore. They’ll be tumbling in the dryer when He gets out of the shower and, instead of telling me to get them, He just grabs them Himself. In an apartment this small, it’s easier and faster for Him to grab them on His way by than to have me stop whatever I’m doing and bring them to Him.

Everything that reminded me I’m a slave has slowly dwindled. Either because I threw a tantrum one too many times about it, or because it just isn’t practical anymore. Regardless, it’s left me feeling quite unslavelike.  Read more…