Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Welcome to December.

Still trying to get back in balance after the busy holiday week. We were low a lot of things, most crucial... toilet paper and coffee creamer (or coffee poison as Master calls it.) So I drove straight the grocery store from work.

Master was home when I came in with my arms full of food, TP, and you name it. And I got an earful about not being home when he got here. It is times like this that I think again about getting a cell phone, so I can call and ask permission to make a detour to the grocery store... but then I am not allowed to call him on his work phone unless it is an emergency... and is going to the grocery store an emergency??? Dunno.

I rushed about, putting away groceries, making a quick dinner for him, making a completely different dinner for myself. I am tired of compromising my diet to fit his tastes... tonight I made a spinach salad for myself, with avocado and tomatoes. Yum. Master will have left over turkey noodle soup and a green salad. (I loathe iceberg lettuce and celery, and for him it just isn't a salad with both those ingredients. Gag.)

As I sat down with my yummy spinach salad he gave me this look, a dark frowny glare and I froze and went, "What?"

He narrowed his eyes, glaring at my meal choice and I start to yammer, defending spinach and avocados, extolling the relative nutritional values and he snarls for me to shut up. He says he was sort of thinking of doing "something" with me when I got home, but me going grocery shopping and cooking messed all that up. He does not elaborates on what this something might be... exercise, fuck, play, christmas shopping??? ...fuck if I know. I instantly offered to put my food in the fridge and be available for him, but he shook his head, "No, you go ahead and eat." The "its too late now, bitch." left unsaid and yet hanging in the air between us.

Bastard, I would bet about a thousand dollars that if I had just come home, been on my knees waiting when he came in the door, he would have done exactly what he always does... fall asleep in his chair... no playing... no sex... no nothing, just snoring. But because I made a left turn, that mind fucking bastard hangs out this "something" that can't happen now.

I have learned not to expect anything, to be satisfied with the comfortable routine. I have learned to not even think about the possibility of play, or fucking, or ropes, or whips... I have set myself up for disappointment so many times that I don't even think about the one in a thousand chance that he just might do that "something", especially on a week night, after work any more.

To give him credit, we have not had any kind of play or sex beyond a quick roll over and poke it into a warm wet place in the middle of the night in several weeks. He knows I want more. He probably wants more too. But he did not say a word, did not make a hint... and to expect me to read his mind... Like I said before, mind fucking Bastard.

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