Alternatively titled: Sometimes "rape" isn't enough.
Yesterday, Sunday, we woke bright and early. Master immediately rolled over and said "Go make me breakfast." I was horny, but that is normal, I always wake up that way.
I, instead of saying what was on my mind ("Wanna fuck?"), said "Yes, Master, what would you like?"
So I went to make some pancakes, and also sausages, tea and coffee. We ate. It was good. Then Master did his own thing (playing Minecraft) and I did mine (playing on the internet), but I was hoping for a little attention still. I came to his side, knelt at his feet, touched his sleeve, made "eyes" at him- you know the kind.
I did everything allowable except say right out "Wanna fuck?" Which I didn't say, because I was afraid of hearing a "No". Possibly the stupidest reason ever not to ask, but there it is, I'm not always so smart.
Interlude: Read this blog: http://youarenotsosmart.com/2011/08/21/the-illusion-of-asymmetric-insight/
Not to mention this one: http://youarenotsosmart.com/2011/07/07/misattribution-of-arousal/
No worries if you didn't read them. I'll probably run out of time/forget to explain how they all tie into my blog topic anyway. Use your imagination.
Now, back to Sunday morning. I swept the floor, cleaned the kitchen, did some other stuff. We were running out of time now, as we had guests coming at noon. So I tried again to get Master's attention. This time he let me sit on his lap, and I could tell he wanted me. He made me get up, and I followed him upstairs, where he pushed me to the floor and told me to beg him to stop. I did, which put me in a weird space. At the same time as I was being sucked down into both despair and ecstasy, I didn't want him to stop, but I was begging him to, which just made him hold me down and fuck me more violently. Soon he came, and left me in a bloody mess, on the floor, on top of my robe, so he could hop in the shower.
I have discovered I can't write about emotions. I'm afraid to let them out (see the first article above). What will people think of me? What if I let out the wrong emotion on paper and they see me as I am sometimes: weak/silly/conceited/vain/selfish/needy/hopelessly insecure?
Emotions, what the hell? I had been mopey, lonely, insecure and near despondent all morning, ever since pancakes, actually. It made no sense, since I am far from neglected and I know it, but since when are emotions related to making sense? They aren't, and trying to talk myself out of them in a reasonable and rational way wasn't working.
I folded laundry, but when that was done all I could do was sit in a heap on the floor until it was my turn to shower. The hot water loosed the tears. Master stood outside the shower and watched me cry. When I stepped out he asked what was wrong, and I said I didn't know. I asked things that I knew the answer to, hoping for reassurance- was he sure he wasn't tired of me? Didn't he want someone else? How could he not be tired of me? Why am I so sad? (ok, that one I did not know the answer to). He answered every one of my questions, even the last one, and he held me tight.
I accepted his explanation of my emotions (see the second article). I still have no idea what the actual reason was, it could have been falling blood sugar for all I know, but his explanation seemed as good as any. I just wanted his love and attention, that's all. And sex. Lots of sex.
Is there an ending to this blog? Not really. Our guests came and went. We worked on fixing the latch to the barn door, which is now all done! YAY!
I pitchforked hay and pigeon muck out of the top of the barn while he mowed the lawn. Then we worked on weeding the garden. At one point he pulled me into the barn and he fucked my mouth for a quick break. Later on I finished the blowjob. Then he spanked me with the paddle until I nearly cried, but this was the glowing red ass happy kind of near-cry.
By the end of the day I was exhausted but happily content.
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