Do you ever wake up filled with love and light and gratitude?
No, I didn't think so.
Most days I don't either.
Most days I wake up in a coffee deficient fog of vague horniness and need to pee.
Today, however, Master did not wake me up at 5:45 to make him breakfast, so I woke up slowly around 6:30 under the electric blanket I got him for Christmas. I was in a toasty cocoon of sleepiness, and I just lay there until he came to get me up to do something for him before he left.
In those sleepy half way moments between the two worlds I sent thanks out to God and Whomever, and to Master, for the beautiful Christmas we had. Maybe there was nothing out of the ordinary, no trip to Cozumel, no family members visiting, no tricking the kids into hearing tiny reindeer on the roof (they are too old and wise for that, but the they go along with the whole Santa thing in the spirit of commercial enterprise). I talked to my parents. My mom won't be home for another week but they seemed to be in good spirits, considering. They wished we were all together. I do too.
But there was an electric blanket.
And it was warm.
Master said he slept better than he has in a long time, and didn't wake up once. I'd like to think it was because of how well I satisfied him, but really it was probably the electric blanket.
And there were the wooden spoons I was sent. The largest of which went straight to the bedroom last night and was used to beat my ass thoroughly before he fucked me.
I have several bruises (yay!) between Wednesday's ass whacking and last night's, but how many pictures of that do I really need? I already have plenty.
Also the cinnamon sweet sticky roll buns turned out amazing and delicious. Master said they were as good as my mom's, which is a high praise. It is her recipe.
Yeah, there is a whole lot to be grateful about around here.
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