Not Fair

Sometimes it is just not fair.  I shouldn't be surprised, I know that there is no promise of fair, if anything quite the opposite.  But sometimes it still sneaks up on me and bites me in the butt.

I had already talked with him about this thing, in my eyes had gotten permission to do this.

I had talked with him about how I was just not going to eat the same food as him, that eating the meat and potatoes and all the fixins was making it easier and easier to slip away from my low cholesterol diet.  

way back machine...

About two years ago I got the heads up from my doctor that my cholesterol was just a bit high, any higher and we will need to talk about medication.  That was a bitch, I wasn't eating a lot of high cholesterol type food, I don't like eggs, meat, cheese all that much.  But I got ruthless and cut it ALL out.  Nada... day after day, week after week of 0 mg cholesterol and other forms of saturated fat.  I upped the amount of good fat, olive oils and seed oils.  I also started exercising... (in all honesty, the exercising was Master's idea... I was getting pretty crazy and he just dragged me out of the house one day and forced me to march for about ten miles in the hot sun.  It did wonders for my attitude and he instituted a pretty rigorous walking schedule.  It was good for us... time to talk, a way for him to exert control.)

All these changes had an unexpected result... the pounds just slipped away, five, ten, twenty, thirty pounds... it was effortless, the pants got baggier and baggier, Master made many very lecherous and appreciative comments about the "new" shape.  I threw out all the fat clothes, bought a whole new sexier wardrobe.  More lechery from Master... mmm... very reinforcing.   

Cut to to the present...

The 0 mg cholesterol thing slowly found excuses for a treat here, a snack there, a birthday, a holiday, a new set of expectations to menu plan and cook for Master every day... laziness crept in... and greed.  That pot roast can't hurt, I will eat just a small helping... cookies??? Well, it is Christmas.  Coworkers that find it not all that difficult to talk me into that piece of cheese cake.

The walking went from every day to every other day to a few times a week and now... now it's a few times a month.  We blame the weather and I have to admit that here in the Pacific northwest it has been pissing down rain for what seems like a year.

Those 35 pounds gone have started to creep back.  That new wardrobe was tight before, now it is getting darned uncomfortable. 

So now... now before things totally get out of control, I trying to get back to that original mindset.  No red meat, fat free dairy only, more fiber, more beans and vegies and fruit and whole grains... not some, no good excuses... nope... nada... it is like being a vegetarian... you don't say you are a vegetarian and then eat a steak on your birthday because it is a "special day".

So there is was, a re-commitment to eating different, being healthier and hopefully skinnier... and yet maintain my obedience and devotion to my Master who wants...  he requires meat, preferably cow meat or pig meat.  So I had talked to him about cooking his dinner but not eating the same food and he listened and said okay... he even questioned me about my weight gain and has started taking a more active role again in taking me for walks.  We have been driving to Malls... meh... not my favorite type of walk but it was raining so hard last night that we got soaked just walking across the parking lot.

Yesterday, for dinner I had planned for him a pork chop with rice and salad.  For me, steamed winter vegetables and a slice of fat free bread spread with garlic humus.  I love cooked cabbage.  It was yummy.  But I screwed up.  It seemed like a good idea if I was cooking two dinners, it would be easier to cook mine first and his when he wanted it... Master usually wants a late dinner, around 7:30... I usually am starving around 5:00... separate meals at separate times.  If I eat earlier, I am more likely to stick to regimen.  If I eat earlier, I would be 100% available to serve Master... I could even sit at his feet as he eats...   genius... or so I thought... until he walked in after work and saw the left overs from my yummy steamed vegetables... and roared...

 

"Why did you cook this now?!!!???"

"But... you said... I told you... we talked..."

Something inarticulate, loud and intended to shut me the fuck up.

So I shut up. And got all sorry for myself and weepy.

Not fair... not fair at all.  But apparently, he would have eaten the steamed vegetables too.  And apparently I was supposed to have known that.  So I got some very clear messages.  He likes steamed vegetables.  I may eat what I want, but do not assume that he is not going to want some of it too (even if he has already told me what he wanted for dinner).  I am required to eat at the same time as he is... even if I am hungry or it is late.  "You will not starve to death."

 

Caning can be delicious

There is an art to caning… and it is definitely delicious. At first after that class, the first few times Master put his hand to me, he seemed to deliberately reject all the things we learned at the class.

Lately he has approached giving pain to me in a harsher and harsher manner… starting harsher and harder each time we try until I cringe when he reaches for me. But there is still some part of me that hoped… hoped that maybe he could learn from another what he refused to learn from me.

The teacher had spoken at length about two things, one was where the muscle is deep enough to absorb the cane strike without hitting bone and two about watching your subject, taking the time to watch them absorb the energy of the blow and process it, transform it and ultimately enjoy it. And once we were home Master pushed those limits. Even with just his hands, he seemed to perversely reject the concepts of warm up and pacing. And when I would cry out and plead that when he does that, it pushes me too fast, that it is nearly impossible to bear. And he would laugh and gloat, “Oh, I know. I always knew that.”

At first I was sort of disheartened, that I was the one that asked for this, started us down the rabbit hole, and now… now… now that he has taken control, he has taken the things I ask for and distort them, mutate them into something different, just close enough to what I beg for to give me hope and yet… just off the mark far enough to frustrate the hell out of me.


I had almost reached the point of deciding to not ask, to avoid pain from Master… one can only ask for ice-cream and get a dish of pickles so many times before they stop asking for ice cream. I mean I can eat the pickles and if I try hard enough I can even convince myself that I like pickles or that maybe this is pickle tasting ice cream… or hell that maybe all ice cream is really pickles and I was somehow stupid to think it had ever been anything different.

And then last night, I had been tired, just beat… I had not slept well the night before and when I got home I just had run out of gas. He directed me to rest, take a nap if I could capture sleep. I sat there for an hour, not quite asleep, not quite awake… and an hour later he woke me. But I was dopey, waking was almost beyond my reach and he pulled me to lie across his lap and began to spank me awake. At first he just spanked my bottom and it felt good… but then as I sighed and told him that it was good, feeling really good… he hit my thighs hard. And I lunged and protested that he was going too fast, hitting too hard… not going at a pace I could manage. And finally, miraculously he slowed. And once the pace was within my ability, I found myself doing what the teacher guy spoke of, absorbing, analyzing the sensation, moving it around my body and enjoying myself.

We talked about it, about the caning stuff and he told me to come down to his lair and picked up the length of rattan we had purchased at the very beginning of this M/s relationship. He hit me really hard right from the first and I cried out, begging to ask him one more question before we started… I asked him… “Is this for you? …because if it is, then do your worst, I will bear it. But if it is for me, please be open to my words; listen to what I have to say… please.” And once again, miraculously he listened.

I found myself lying, sensually luxuriously bathing in sensation as he lightly began to tap, tap, tap, tap… raining fast light taps up and down my ass and thighs… back and forth… up and down… sensitizing me and then “whack”… an exacting blow, not so hard as to interrupt the music but a punctuation mark in the storm. And it was interesting to feel the wave of pain… if it was pain… roll up my body, accentuated by the feeling of the continued taps. I spoke… soft continual comments, “That’s good. I like that. I like the way the two feelings blend and contrast and fit. I like that a lot.”

We did that for a long time, experimenting with different positions, different styles of blows, different implements, different body parts being struck and talking about it… talking and feeling listened to. There was no loss of awareness, no subspace… in fact I felt very clear minded, very calm, very relaxed, very sensual and very safe. It was awesome.

I am sure there will be times that it will be for him… times when he will not wait for me, will not allow me to enjoy it. And that is okay… in many ways that is more than okay. In fact those scenes push me into that mental place, where I feel my submission and awe of him more than any other times. And afterwards, for days after, I continue to feel that for him. But now I know that sometimes, even if it is hardly ever… it is good to know that sometimes the ice cream will really be ice cream.