Time has not been my friend lately. There's been very little time for Master and i, and what there has been has had the unfortunate burden of a slave's expectations.
Master's last day off was a great example...of a lot of things. i desperately wanted a snuggle with my beloved Master as we settled in to watch Iron Man for the first time ever (missed it in the theatre, unfortunately), but Master wanted to snuggle with a slave who was trussed in rope. Despite the fact that Master was being kind and using the lovely nylon satin ropes instead of the evil Sisal rope, i could not move beyond the hurt that i created by building expectations of the rare times we have together.
After all this time with Master, i should remember that my expectations should be couched as requests...and frankly, never become expectations in the first place. After a lengthy discussion, regarding expectations, who should have them, what i should do with them, and being reminded over and over again that topping from the bottom is an absolutely prohibited behavior, we settled in to watch the movie.
As time schooched by, i became more and more tired. Late evenings are not my friend, despite the fact i sometimes battle with insomnia. Because of Master's new work schedule (which i hate, hate and hate) midnight is his early afternoon, and while His slave wilted with exhaustion when the movie ended, He was still needing something from me.
Something that i have been struggling with often, of late, is what to do with the anger and frustration that well up within me when Master asks something of me that raises the selfish creature that dwells within me. And i struggled, at that moment. i was exhausted, tired beyond patience, and frustrated that on those rare days that He has the opportunity to be home with me, i become more exhausted than the other days.
So, there we are, Master needing either a warm cunt or a talented mouth, and a pissy slave who is frustrated and angry.
i wanted to throw something. i wanted to break something. i wanted to lash out and say something cruel. i wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore the world for a peaceful eight hours. The first three are flatly, absolutely poor behavior. The last is delusional.
i swallowed my frustrations, swallowed my anger, and gave Master the rarity of a blowjob. He swears that i hate them, and is saddened that i don't volunteer them more often. Why did i choose to give Master a blowjob? This is what He wants to know. This is why He asked me to write about this.
(For the record, i don't hate blowjobs. It's very intimate and a joy to bring someone to ecstasy by exploiting the generous helping of nerve endings that make up our sexes. Far more intimate ─ and in some ways more "touching" than sex. i don't volunteer to give Master more of these treats because He has a fantastically awesome girth and lovely length, and with my smallish jaw, well...it seems to me akin to attempting to ram a half-inch screw through a three-quarter inch cap nut.)
But back to the question at hand, why did i give Master a blowjob instead of offering Him a warm cunt? i simply did not trust my mouth to not be busy. Every question He asked me during my display of oral talents fueled my anger, driving me to work harder at sending Him into ecstasy, into the toe curling bliss a blowjob often takes Him. Because He'd ask less questions if He was busy breathing, gasping and wiggling on the sheets.
Afterwords ─ it was ironically easier to truly accept and swallow my issues. He knows as well as i do the frustrations of our lives. He understands exhaustion, for different reasons, maybe, but He knows it well. Sometimes the frustrations and anger that stems from the world outside our door get to Him, too. The best we can do is be who we are.
In that moment (when I was thinking my Master should try drinking pineapple juice), it was easier to simply accept that i had to trust Master and let go of what i expect and of the frustrations and anger that build in me because of life. In that moment, Master and slave were at peace with the world, anger and frustrations melted away in the afterglow.