Thursday, January 22, 2015

Things My Master Says

We're lying in bed and I said something that sounded less like a suggestion and more like telling him what he should do.  

Him:  "What did you just say?"

Me:   "mm?"  (I *had* just said "mm", but I think he meant before that)

Him:  "Who gets to decide these things?"

Me:  "You do, Master".

Things don't go my way but I'm content.  I feel somewhat flattened, but in a romantic and sentimental way:  I got the warm squishies. 


Not My Bed

No, that's not my bed.  And I'm not dead.   I was getting worked over by two men, and looking pretty out of it at that point. ...