Sunday at home means butt sex

In terms of kinky stuff, this was a quiet week, and for once I was thankful.  All my sore parts got a chance to heal up and had a rest from being hit or bit or tweaked.  I still served as usual, we did our nightly ritual until it is beginning to feel more natural now, and we had sex a lot, with a little light slapping, sometimes my wrists tied down, some humiliation, but nothing very painful.

Then there was Sunday, yesterday.  I don't know if he just decided it was time again, or I had that look in my eye that was more like "Hurt me" than "Please don't hurt me", but I'm thinking it is most likely that he figured my being on my period was a good enough reason for butt sex.  And that was a good enough reason for caning. 

First he told me he wanted me upstairs.  I went up, and he had me sucking his cock in bed.  Then he got a cane and had me use the vibrator while at the same time he whacked me and I sucked more.  This is close to my favorite thing ever, it has all the good bits: his cock, orgasms, the cane... I had a few orgasms as he commanded.   

He rolled me on to my stomach and was using the cane harder and harder, then a brief pause and I felt the butt plug being pushed in.  I tried to relax, but it wasn't happening.   He pushed on it for a while, then just stuck his dick in my butt instead.  I was so not ready, but it didn't matter, it was happening.  I tried to concentrate on not making any noises, only semi-successfully.    

He pulled out rather abruptly and went to clean off.  I guess all was not sparkly clean in butt-ville. (Please don't suggest an enema, he won't allow it anyway).

I had a rush of emotion while he was gone.  Sometimes I think my bottom is directly linked to an emotion center in my brain.  Does that sound weird?  Anyway, all of a sudden I was sure I had done something wrong, displeased him somehow and that was why he had stopped.  Maybe I was too loud or too painful sounding?  

 I don't know why exactly, but I was crying when he came back.   He told me to cut it out, that the bed squeaks were simply too loud and he was going to cum on my face instead.  He reminded me it was not up to me to worry about why he wanted this or that, or why he stopped fucking my ass, but simply to accept and obey.   This cheered me up some, along with a few slaps "for sniveling", and I rather enjoyed being frosted by him.  

We took a shower together.  I got peed on.  It was good. 

However, the rest of the afternoon I still felt off somehow, muted and subdued, and I couldn't figure out why.  I felt down, like I'd been a disappointment or failed at being a good slave. I didn't say my mantra.  Actually, every time I thought of it my mind did an ironic laugh that said "No, you're not any good".   

That night during our ritual I had a whole FOUR things to confess as not being up to par in service, but they were all minor and he didn't punish me.  Maybe I would have been happier with a punishment, but I didn't ask for it.