A blog from a woman on a journey of discovery.

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Saturday, 1 January 2011

Rudeness will always be punished

I threw a big hissy fit yesterday.

I behaved like a child and I am sorry.

He asked me to do something, it wasn't difficult, it wasn't something that I haven't done before, but doing it was going to be difficult because of other calls on me and my time.
He knew that, but he told me to do it.
I was rude and grumpy, I sulked and glowered at him over the miles.
He sent me away.
I sent him an email telling him he was being unfair, how he was making me feel and why.

I was there when he told me to be, not happily, pleased to see him, pleased to have time with him, but sulking and rude and stressed.

He sent me away

I came back later when he had told me to, and I was still grumpy and off hand.

He asked me to explain and I did.

He told me that I should have trusted him, he was not going to do what I has feared, all he had wanted was to say hello. he was not going to compromise my safety, my position, nor did he have any desire to make me stressed about it, I should have trusted him.

I was so angry. I was angry with him. I was angry with the world. I was angry with myself. I was just angry.

I was wrong.

I was punished......not for being angry.....but for being rude.

I was given a lesson on trust.

I was punished again.

And as the clock changed to midnight I was doing what I should do.
I was gagged, hooded, plugged, the toy deep inside me, tied so it and I, could not move.
The only thing I could hear was his voice, the only thing I thought about was him.

Then he told me off, harsh words, words slaves do not like, words that burn into my heart; "Let down, disappointed, expected more, you should know, bad behaviour," and all spoken softly with calmness and thought.
And I was filled with shame at my behaviour and my lack of trust and not realising that he does know best, he does always have my interest at heart, and most of all shame at my lack of submission.

I could not look at him, I wished he had been able to beat me, but the pain I felt was more than any beating, each word leaving a mark on me more painful than any cane, each phrase biting more than any strike of the whip.

I wanted to crawl to him and beg his forgiveness, but all I could do was beg.
He talked, I cried. he talked I cried more.

He sent me for a shower and a hot drink, and when I returned his greeting "My slave, my love, my sweet" filled me with a tearful sadness and with happiness.
And I curled up on the floor with my blanket and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke this morning , I had a message...." Happy New Year my slave"

I am sorry Sir.

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