Sunday

I can be a difficult and moody slave sometimes. I try not to go there, but I have not found the key, in all the books I have read, and not on all the lists, and not in any of the blogs either to derailing the little demon moods that come upon me when I am tired and feeling scared and lost and alone in my thoughts. Originally, this blog was to be the place where I was supposed to write and work out a lot of that nonsense, but I get tired of writing it and I can't imagine that it isn't awfully dull to read. Then, too, sometimes, I can go for weeks and months without slipping into a full blown case of the murky icks...

Sunday seems to be the one day of the week when I am most likely to fall into the emotional quicksand. This week, maybe more so than some lately, I was poised for a difficult day. Master and I'd been away for a couple of days at an out of town meeting which had been particularly intense and politically depressing. Getting Him ready to go had been hard work (He does not ever travel lightly), and I was exhausted before we ever left). The first night out of town I slept very badly and only a very few hours, so when it was all over and done with, I arrived home exhausted and worn out.

From the SM side of things, I'd been out in the far edges, feeling alienated and angry. It isn't anything that is easy to explain. These things almost never are. For me, the things that set me off with "bad" SM are almost never what an outside observer might expect or anticipate. They are often seemingly small, innocuous incidents or details that become laden with emotional freight. In this case, I've been all wrapped up over a new paddle. It is really a little bit of a thing -- probably would be inconsequential under any other circumstances, except that it was purchased on-line from a vendor who took damn near forever to deliver the item (and way more than a reasonable number of emails many of which went unanswered -- how rude is that?), then shipped what I think is a substandard piece of crap -- and when it is going to land on my ass, I take the production of substandard crap personally!!! Add this to the fact that this vendor is associated with someone who was wicked to my Dear Master in the past and the whole thing just pisses the hell out of me... From the minute the first crack of that miserable, piece of shit paddle sounded on my butt, I was furious and I haven't calmed down about it yet. I KNOW it is nuts and I can't seem to get over it -- knowing you are nuts does not make for an effective cure generally... This is the sort of female reasoning that just causes Master to shake His head, btw...

So Sunday comes around and everybody here has stuff they like to do... T likes to cook breakfast so we have French toast and stuff like that (but I'd rather have cheeseburgers...), and they both like to watch the Sunday morning TV news shows, so we do that while I scratch and rub Master's back..., and then Master gets on the computer to surf and read and bounce from place to place... During the school year, this would be the time when I would wander off to grade papers and plan and do our laundry... but I don't have any school work to do now. I end up feeling like a third wheel. T has a place to be -- watching her cooking shows and stuff and Master has His stuff to do on-line, and I end up feeling like I just need to do chores as invisibly as I possibly can and not bother anyone because there really seems to be no place where I fit into the routine.

Eventually, Master got around to me this afternoon, and we did have a good session with the vibrator and some low end toys that we haven't played with for a long time: the quirt and a narrow leather strap and a rubber flogger and a braided llama cat and even that evil new paddle at the end. It ended well, with us both reaching orgasm together -- not something that occurs all that often for us.

So smiles were restored.

Slaves and Masters... Sometimes I wonder who has the harder job...

swan

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