I haven't been writing anything lately because we haven't been doing anything. He hasn't been feeling well, so it is perfectly understandable.
I get frustrated anyway.
I feel guilty that I'm so frustrated.
I feel guilty that I'm so needy.
I feel like a bottomless well of desire and this makes me hate myself.
I try to cram all this stuff aside and just be good because I know he doesn't feel good and I don't want to be more burden or obnoxious.
And then Master wakes up this morning and uses my mouth and my cunt and it is just so GOOD, but it isn't enough. He has to be off to work right away. As soon as he leaves I dissolve in a puddle of tears, everything that was held back and unsaid over the last few days coming out on my pillow.
Then he comes back in, is immediately solicitous and asks what's wrong. I can't answer for a long time, but then I say I'm a terrible fuckhole, always wanting more.
He leaves to get ready. I make breakfast.
When he sits down I apologize and he takes one look at his food and tea and storms off upstairs again. I don't know if he's feeling too ill to eat, or he's just that angry with me, but he sure storms like he's angry.
The plate of food and tea is still sitting there, he's gone to work, and I'm not sure if I should save it or throw it out.
He said I'm forgiven, but I still feel like the worst slave ever.
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