Home > rayne > “Let’s just start over in the morning, okay?” M whispered.

“Let’s just start over in the morning, okay?” M whispered.

August 29th, 2009

Topfer_ReveAnd I nodded through my sobs, relief and gratitude washing over me.

I pushed a little too hard last night.  Master is no longer content to let me lead.  He’s clipped leash to collar (both literally and figuratively) and is dragging me along behind Him.

I won’t rehash the argument.  It doesn’t matter what was said.  Even if I had valid points – and I’m not even sure I did anymore – it’s kind of difficult to argue with, “I’m the master.  Not you.”

It would be so much easier if I’d remember that from the instant I get upset.

I’m still confused.  I have the right and responsibility to go to Him with problems, but I’m required to live by the “Master is always right.” creed.  I’m sure there’s a happy medium in there, somewhere, but I tend to jump from one extreme to the next.  “Oh.  You’re always right, huh? So, you don’t care if I have a problem.  You’re not interested in my happiness.”

I did say that to Him.  His response?

“You’re right.  When you’re being a cunt and ignoring my orders and disobeying my rules, I don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.”

I kind of blinked at Him for a second.  It’s not fair for Him to be logical! That’s just fighting dirty!

He was going to release me.  It was a good long time before I could swallow my pride and ask beg Him not to.  I often say I don’t even know how to beg.  I sure figured it out in a hurry last night.

Long ago in a land not so far away (Three streets over, in fact.), when we had a spat or I was in trouble, one of the first things I would do was lick Him.  Anywhere I could reach.  Until He told me to stop or fucked me or… something.  It calmed Him down and made it easier to converse with Him. 

Somewhere along the line, I got it in my head that was fighting dirty.  And I started waiting until after everything calmed down for the most part.  Started using it as a bargaining chip to get back into His good graces instead of trying to deflect attention from the problem.  And then I stopped doing it altogether.

We got in bed last night, both of us emotionally exhausted and not really sure where we stood, and when He turned His back to me, I started to lick it.  I stared at it for a second and then Little Miss Perfect Slave said, “You said you wanted to be a slave, cunt.  Act like it.”  So I leaned forward and began licking Him.

That might have been what sealed the deal.

I cried myself to sleep because He wouldn’t touch me.  And then I woke up crying because He hadn’t touched me all night (And you thought I didn’t notice these things, Master).  I curled up in a ball and just laid there listening to His breathing, wondering if He was awake.

And then His voice broke through all the noise in my head.  “Why don’t you get your big mouth on my cock?” It wasn’t a suggestion.

A weird feeling shot through me.  Something has changed.  I started to notice it a couple weeks ago.  It’s stronger, now.  More obvious.  And I think even He’s noticed it.  Master has changed.

His voice, barely more than a whisper, told me how things were going to be while I did my best on His cock.  “I’m going to start using and hurting you again, Rayne.”  and, “This is piggy’s breakfast.”  right before He came in my mouth.  Then He told me to get the paddle.

Wait, what? When did punishment become part of the deal again? I just did what I was told.

“Lay down on your stomach.”

I was already on the verge of tears.  The first stroke felt like someone stabbing me through the heart.  I sobbed through the rest.

I started to pull it together when He was finished, my face buried in the pillows, and He stared at the back of my head.  But then I fell apart.  I buried my head in His chest and apologized over and over.

He stroked my hair while I cried.  A gesture He hasn’t made since my grandmother died.  And why should He? I’ve been nothing but a cunt since then.

When He decided it was time, He told me to go brush my teeth and get out my dog collar and leash.  I was to crawl to Him with them in my mouth.

When I got to Him, He held out his hand for me to drop them as if I were a dog.  It was so comfortable.  And I looked up at Him with tears in my eyes.  I’m crying still.

He didn’t tell me what to do from there except getting coffee going.  When I was finished with that, I went to sit beside Him on the floor.  Wandering off to do my own thing just doesn’t feel right anymore.  And He let me sit there for a while before allowing me to spend some time online.

I feel like such an asshole.  I’m tired of being the asshole.

I am sorry, Master.  I say that a lot.  I will do better.  I say that a lot, too.

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  1. August 31st, 2009 at 20:55 | #1

    Rayne,

    We Christians are told that no matter how many times we sin and disappoint God, we can go back to Him and be forgiven; basically, tell Him, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” That is such a reassuring feeling and I hope it’s one you’re experiencing right now; knowing M. has heard you and accepted your best intentions to do better.

    You have my best wishes for your success at doing just that.

    Dave

  2. July 3rd, 2010 at 10:12 | #2

    This was a touching story, very lovely. I am sorry you are hurting and I hope things work out with your master.

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