Home > Rayne > You’re not pleasing me.

You’re not pleasing me.

June 25th, 2010

Since typing that title, I’ve been staring at the blank page for a couple hours.

I want to relay the events of the night before last, and what lead up to them.  But my thoughts are all over the place, and I can’t really figure out where to begin.

M would say it’s because I’m gabbing Laurel’s ear off.  And maybe He’s a little right.  But I couldn’t figure out where to begin before I started chatting with her, so chatting with her has only compounded the problem. 😛

I complain too much.  There’s a start.  About everything, and nothing.  It’s not so much that I annoy easily as it is that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.  And try as we might, M and I are not always on the same page with regard to what we want to be doing, when.

This shouldn’t matter.  I’m the slave.  Human property.  And I should be grateful for any attention I receive.  Even too much attention.

It wasn’t really too much attention.  It was attention when I was busy.  Busy… Too busy for M’s attention.  As if I have that right, ever.  Or should even think that way.

I have responsibilities, now, that extend outside our home, that’s true.  But my first responsibility is to Him, always, and I created my own problem.  I put it off, not considering that, even if family court went well, I might still be stressed out.  And not expecting to find myself restricted from my computer.  Which was also my own fault.  Obviously.

I said to Kristi, the other day, “I think my slave brain’s on vacation.  And I’m not sure whether it means I need a break or a beat down.”

And that should have been my cue.  I should have went straight to M and said exactly what I said to her.  But I knew that would mean some form of crackdown, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that, or was ready for it.  As if it’s my decision.

I fail at being a slave.

Wednesday morning was the last straw, and He took the decision from me.  We talked about it while He worked.  Sort of.  I mean, as much as we can when we’re both distracted.  Him with His career, and me with my writing.

The rest of the day went mostly fine.  We settled down to watch TV when He was finished working, and read for a while before going to sleep.  I honestly thought everything was fine.

Until 2:53am, when I woke to M quietly saying my name.

“Get up and crawl into the living room and kneel there.”

I sat up and looked at His face to see what kind of mood He was in.  I was already clambering out of bed when I determined that there was something wrong.

Occasionally, I worry that He’ll see my quick assessment of his body language as me questioning the validity or seriousness of His order.  It’s not that.  I know it’s not my place to question.  But He rarely, if ever, gives any verbal indication of which direction we’re heading in.  His voice often has the same seriousness, the same edge, whether He’s placing me for play time or punishment.  His face is what’s different.  The way He holds Himself.  The way He looks at me.

I mean, I know it was weird.  While He does wake me up for sex, He almost never pulls me out of bed for it.  Once or twice, He’s decided He wanted to cum all over me while I knelt on the floor.  He usually decides that mid-blow job, but there’s a first for everything, right?

And like I said, I thought we’d settled our problems earlier in the day.

He said, “I was going to address this earlier, but I realized that I needed to do it when neither of us had any other distractions.”

And then He said, “You’re not pleasing me.”

And then, “I think you should stop writing about this.  Because you’re not doing it.”

There are three sides to every story, so I’ve been spending a lot of my time in my head going, “But I did this!” and “I did that!” and “He’s not exactly perfect!” But there’s this niggling little voice that keeps trying to tell me that obviously “this and that” isn’t enough.  And that it’s especially not enough when I do “that and this” in between “this and that”.  And that He can be as imperfect as He wants and my only course of action is to ask Him to be merciful.

This is what I mean when I say I can spout off about what’s expected of me till I’m blue in the face, but don’t always follow it.

He made me kneel while He told me what was going through His mind, and eventually, I asked if I could go to the bathroom.  I didn’t want to, and I waited as long as I could.  But my bladder was so full, as it so often is when one wakes from a deep sleep, and the pain in my knees and ankles from kneeling had become so great, that I was sure I was going to pee the carpet if I wasn’t allowed to fix one or the other.  And I told Him so, knowing full well that if He chose to ignore my plea I would have to suffer and pray I had more restraint than I originally thought.

It was obvious in His calculating face that He knew that I knew and was trying to decide which would serve His purpose better.

In the end, my being able to concentrate on and retain what He was saying won out, and He sent me to the bathroom.  When I returned and went immediately to my knees, He told me to sit down.  I have no doubt that if I had tried to sit down, rather than kneel, I’d have found myself suffering through the pain.

We talked for a while.  Well, He talked.  I mostly listened.  I didn’t offer any defense.  There is none.  I know what’s expected of me as both His wife and His property.  I know how I should want to behave as His wife and His property.  And I know that my not acting that way really isn’t for lack of love, respect or desire.

He told me once upon a time I was the type of slave most men would kill for.  And that I’m not even close anymore.

He said we have to refocus me.  Not just in our relationship, though especially there.  But also in my responsibilities outside our home, so that I am able to quiet my mind and focus on our relationship, since each seems to be heavily affected by the other.

And it’s true.  I rarely manage to hold a thought in my head more than a few minutes.  I’ve always been that way.  If I don’t immediately do what I’m told, or whatever I think of that I need/want to do, I forget.

My parents, rather than trying to combat it, instead took to only telling me what they wanted me to do when they wanted me to do it for things they could, and started making me write down the things they couldn’t.  And they’d still remind me a few times throughout the day.  “Have you checked your chore list, today?”

In school, I was always required to keep an assignment book and have it signed by my teachers before I left each class.  My parents checked it every night when they got home and made sure I got each assignment done.  Matter of fact, I think my grades started slipping when they stopped paying attention.

M’s not willing to accept having to literally stand over me reminding me of what He wants me to do so I actually do it for the rest of our lives.  I’m 30 years old.  I shouldn’t need someone to do that.  And I certainly shouldn’t need Him putting Himself in my face to pay attention to Him.

I think what it comes down to is I’ve been taking Him for granted.  It’s one of the many downfalls to having both parties at home all the time.  It doesn’t happen to everyone, but occasionally, people go down the path of, “We’re together all the time! Surely he/she knows how I feel.  I don’t need to show them all the time.” and then “not all the time” becomes “not every day” and “not every day” becomes “almost never”…  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so how can I miss you if you won’t go away?

The shitty part is that I’ve been known to flip shit because M feels withdrawn and uninterested.  For it being something I complain about, I should make damn sure I don’t do it myself.  Shouldn’t I? I should.

When He was finished, He said the beginning would be that I wasn’t allowed to touch my computer until He said I could.  I’ll admit, I was angry.  I still had an article to write, and another one that needed to be sent out so it could post, and here He was telling me I was not allowed to fulfill my obligation to these people.

Today, I logged into Twitter and saw this tweet:

I now know what the next step is to get @insatiabldesire‘s training back on track. The sacrifice required is great. I dunno…

And I wasn’t really sure what to feel.

Whose sacrifice? Certainly not His, right? I mean, how could it be His sacrifice when it’s me who’s losing privileges, and being made to act a certain way? When I’m the one who has to sit there and be perfect while He stands over me wielding a cane or a whip making sure I remember to do so?

Oh, OH! You mean, He doesn’t want to have to do that? You mean… He doesn’t enjoy bitching at me all the time because I just can’t won’t act right? You mean He’s not gonna like the resistance He’s met with as He steadily pulls up the reins?

Well, color me stupid.

And He doesn’t know? What does He mean He doesn’t know? How could He not know whether or not He wants to sacrifice whatever it is He has to sacrifice to get our relationship back on track?

But I think what stung the most was seeing that after hearing that our relationship would not work without the owner/property aspect.  Not for lack of want, because we both very much want to be with each other.  But because M is a dominant person.  He requires control.  And we both know that I will never be merely a submissive wife.  It’s all or nothing with me.

And apparently, I’d subconsciously chosen nothing, because I wasn’t doing it anymore.

And then, I read this one:

Sometimes, in M/s and other parts of life, it’s best to remove some of the distractions and really focus on core issues.

And I was sort of irritated with myself for letting it come to this.

With M’s and Cin’s help, I’m working on getting my outside junk organized in a way that M and I both will be notified of due dates (and maybe “when I want to have them done by” dates, if possible) so I don’t have to keep reminding Him and He doesn’t have to keep asking.  I mean, it’s difficult enough for me to remember when I need to do things.  Add to that reminding Him that I need to do them so He gives me time and I’m sunk.

I think getting my outside junk organized will make things much easier on me with regard to my focus.  But I may find myself having to close all other programs until I finish the things I need to get done, again.  It’s becoming painfully obvious that I just can’t multi-task like I used to.

Holy crap! 2000 words.  I guess that’s all I have to say about that.


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  1. June 25th, 2010 at 15:22 | #1

    Well, well, not staying in touch all the time like we used to, is not serving us well. We were very good at keeping each other on track at one time, and now we’re both all fucked up! Sheesh, we’re easy to distract.

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