Once again, I find myself away from here far too long. I was even chastised a bit for my lack of writing. Too often now, I lack in words or the motivation to relive the small things happening in our dynamic. I say small things not out of disrespect, but that is just the reality we are living in at the moment.
He is so busy these days and I take pride in doting on Him when I can, ensuring that everything is to His satisfaction, and that the house is generally running smoothly. Submitting to Him as the Master of our home has become quite comfortable and easy.
Then the rare opportunity arises for "playtime". My feelings should be that of thankfulness for His time and attention. Hell, I spend all of my days pretty much daydreaming about being behind closed doors, being thoroughly used by Him.
So, why is it, that as soon as that door closes and we are behind it, I have to fight the feeling of (oh my gosh, I hate to say it)...irritation?
I am ashamed to admit that this part of my submission has become...not so easy.
Saturday night was a perfect example. We had a couple hours without the kids and decided to grab something to eat. It wasn't too shocking that on the way, He informed me to lose the sports bra.
Then He asked me what I planned to eat. My response was grilled chicken salad. Again, not too shocking when He didn't approve of my choice and announced that He would be ordering for me.
After dinner, we had just enough time to swing into the adult store. Apparently vibrating panties and a new bullet type vibrator were must haves for the evening.
As we left the store and got in the car, He told me to lean the seat back and get myself off with my new vibrator. That's the point I could feel myself starting to clam up. It didn't bother me that He wanted me to do it in the car, that hardly even phases me anymore. I was upset because I knew my edge would be gone for the evening. Trying hard to hide my disappointment, I did what I was told anyways, hoping the rest of the evening would go differently.
Later that night when we were alone again, He motioned for me to come upstairs. When He closed the door and showed me the clothes laid out for me to try on, I had instant flashbacks to the last time. I got myself in a bit of trouble for being, shall we say, less than enthusiastic. If you missed that little story, you can read about it here. Anyways, I put on a good face and did the best I could to be accommodating.
But for the second time that evening, I fought overwhelming frustration as I tried on outfit after outfit, while He concocted some horribly trashy outfit that would be (un)suitable enough for sending me to the car wash to clean His car. I held it all in until He had me begin demonstrating the postures He expected me to use when vacuuming said car.
Tears of humiliation began streaming down my face and I felt as if I might choke on the lump in my throat. Now, unable to make eye contact with Him, I stared at the floor as He scolded me for crying.
All I had wanted the whole evening was to be in the comfort of His arms and feel His touch.
Again, I am faced with the fact that these are my wants or desires, or in some cases things I don't want. I try and remind myself that this my issue, not His. Then, somehow I manage to feel even worse because this internal battle or dialogue in my head leads me to believe that I may never be the slave He deserves.
Stayed tuned for the rest...