What to do?

I didn't ask if I could masturbate today.

This morning he gave me a little taste of everything.  He had about 10 minutes to flog me, whip me, stick his cock briefly in my mouth and cunt and then to stand on first my cunt (I squirted on his slipper. Heh)  and then my throat.  I am intensely grateful that he used his 10 spare minutes to give me this attention, but...it leaves me... um.... well, totally sexed up.   

Yesterday he said I could masturbate only after spending at least 4 hours pressure washing the deck.  It was cool here.  The well water is cold.   After that many hours holding the pulsing, vibrating pressure washer slightly stooped over in a cold mist, every muscle I had was cold and sore.   
  I was totally focused on my task and concentrated on the fact that I was doing it for my Master, because he wanted it done, and no other reason. 
 In the back of my mind was the thought, ruthlessly repressed until it all broke free last night,  that I was getting this beloved spot all spruced up so someone will see it and want to buy it.    

How many hours have I sat on that shady deck watching the kids play, watching the dogs play, watching the sheep graze in the field.  How many birthday parties, picnics and regular cookouts have we held on that deck?    The thought of leaving hurts my heart.     

When I had completed four hours of washing (and no where near done- I'm going to have to do it again today) I tried for a hot soak in the tub and the water would only get lukewarm.  

It was not as pleasant as I was hoping.   

Then the kids got home and it was time to make dinner.  So, no, I never quite got around to that self pleasuring.

Late at night I was tormenting myself with the silly thoughts that come to over tired slaves.  He thought he'd be nice to me by just letting me go to bed.  Nice isn't always nice though.  After he had dragged my problems out of me (by ruthlessly staring at me until I fessed up)  he paddled me and fucked me hard, which was oh so delicious.    It was what I wanted/needed but was too glum to ask for. 

The best part, though, was when he tipped my head back using my hair as a handle so I had to look into his eyes.   He told me how important to him it is that I do these tasks.  The same goes for doing research for him, he told me firmly, and telling him my opinions when he asks for them.  He told me I am his slave, his property, and when he needs me to do these things, they are important and he knows I will do them because they are for him.    Including giving my input, even when I am afraid and it is hard for me.  

(some drivel about touchy feely mushy slaveheart was redacted to save my readers' sanity)  

But I never asked about today.  He didn't say the same rule applied about the deck/playing with my vibrator. 

  So... 

I guess I'm just going to assume that work comes before play.