Home > Rayne > Just like he read my mind.

Just like he read my mind.

February 13th, 2014

MeSo the other day, I was stalking people on Fetlife (this has become a hobby…maybe one day I’ll start interacting again), and I ran into a thread of conversation about that moment of “oh shit!” some of us slaves get when we know we fucked up. And I thought, “Man…ya know, I kinda miss that.”

I’ve been saying “man” a lot lately. I dunno what’s up with that.

I’ve never really been afraid of Master (excluding that one time I’d convinced myself he was going to kill me based solely on nightmares and hallucinations). I respect him beyond just the general respect I try to give everyone I meet because he deserves it. He’s intelligent, and funny, and balanced, and kind, and responsible, and…I’ll stop now.

I survived an abusive relationship, so I know what it is to truly fear your partner. For me, the fear was birthed from not knowing when he was going to lose control, or what he’d do when he did.

I’ve never had that with Master. He doesn’t lose control, and while I don’t always know what his reaction will be, I always know when they’re coming. That makes the fear of being in trouble so minuscule when compared to the fear of a violent psychotic break that it’s barely a blip on the radar.

Plus, I just don’t get in trouble anymore. ~flounce~

Stop laughing. It’s true! For a very long while, no matter what I did, I didn’t get in trouble.

Okay, so it’s because he was giving me the room to throw the tantrums I needed to throw, and feel the things I needed to feel. He knew I needed him to be my backstop. If I started to get out of hand, he told me so, and I made an effort to chill the fuck out, which is more respect than I’ve ever showed anyone, ever, in my life.

We’ve changed. It happens. Life bends and twists, and tries to jump the track, and all you can do is just hang on for the ride. And I’m realizing that at least half the obstacles over the past eleven years have been in our approach. Growing up, they call it.

So imagine my surprise when I popped off with something smart, and he grabbed me by the throat. He said something about me watching my mouth, and squeezed just enough to punctuate his point. My pussy twitched in that dark, obnoxious way it always does when I know I’m pressing my luck. He’s hot when he’s angry. Watching his face and body strain to maintain control of his irritation as he clenches his fists, or tucks his hands in his pockets is just…wow. It’s hard to be repentant when my engine’s revving so high it’s about to blow.

And! Being angry gets him horny! So while I’m trying to ignore the slickness dripping down my thighs, and be and appear remorseful, I’m watching his cock stiffen in his pants. I love that cock. I can see it in my mind’s eye, right now, while he’s in the shower, and I’m sitting naked at the kitchen table. I can feel my tongue glide over the head and tease along the edge. I can smell him as if I’ve got my face pressed into his water-soaked pubic hair.

I squirm, and something in the air changes. His lips brush my ear as he growls, “Sit still. Wouldn’t want to piss Daddy off more.”

My mouth drops open. There it is. That “oh, shit!” moment, when I realize I’ve fucked up. Just like he read my mind.

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  1. February 23rd, 2014 at 23:37 | #1

    I love this. 🙂 Love how real these posts come through…you don’t see that a lot in blogging anymore.

  2. February 24th, 2014 at 11:21 | #2

    @ Secretly Sensuous Aww, thank you! It seems a lot of bloggers have gotten so caught up in teaching that the experience falls by the wayside. The experience is the best part, for me, and I like to share. =D

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