On our last night home alone we’d headed to bed fairly early. I was sitting on the bed waiting for Him to finish His bathroom/toothbrushing stuffs and to come lock me in. He’d been chattering to me about something or other through the open door, when He came into the bedroom and stopped mid-sentence.
“I’ll give you to the count of three.” He said quietly.
My eyes went wide, my heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat. I looked at Him, He looked at me. He crossed His arms and gave me “The Look”. I gulped.
“One.”
Frantically, I cast my mind out, searching for what He was talking about. It was something that I was obviously supposed to know or He’d simply tell me what it was. I reached up and felt my neck even though I already knew my collar was on. It hadn’t been off for days. All four cuffs were also on. Mentally I fast forwarded through His bedtime routine. Blow job was done. Foot massage done.
“Two.”
Panic squirted, hot and bitter, into my mouth. I held the key to the chain in my hand, ready to present to Him to be locked in so that wasn’t it. I’d done everything else! I looked quickly around the room, searching for something out of place, something amiss. My bladder cramped and then I saw it. His empty nightstand, devoid of one perspiring, ice cold glass of water.
“Thr-”
“I’m going!” I squealed, interrupting Him, and sprang off the bed.
His eyes bored into me as I got closer to Him. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest and planted my bare butt against the wall as I tried to sidle by Him through the doorway that He filled. But halfway through He leaned against me, trapping me between Himself and the wall.
“You’re going to start getting into trouble for this, if you aren’t already.” He said sternly. “I’ve had to remind you of this every night I’ve been home.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t deny it. I hadn’t remembered the water one time. I just kept my eyes down and waited to be released. He did, straightening up and letting me by. And isn’t that the hardest thing ever, to have to walk by, leaving your ass as an open target when They’ve been irked? *sigh*
But as I was in the kitchen getting the water, I became rather indignant. It’s not my fault He’s away more nights than He’s home. By the time I got back to the bedroom, I was heading toward sulking “it’s not fair!” thinking.
I’m not allowed to pass Him the glass from the foot of the bed, nor can I get in on my side and hand it to Him. I have to walk around to His side and place it on His nightstand. I sneaked a peek at His face to see if He was over it yet.
He wasn’t.
He watched my every movement, lips thin and straight, brow furrowed. That unnerves me. It’s hard enough being observed when I’m naked and He’s in a good mood, but it strips me inside to be scrutinized so closely when He’s irritated and clearly plotting my demise.
By the time I’d made it back to the foot of the bed, my skin crawling with the weight of His gaze, I had to start talking. Nervous babble. It was either that or sink out of sight behind the foot board so I could catch my breath. Unfortunately, my babble always consists of whatever is on my mind -minus the ‘censor’ function.
“It’s not MY fault Master! You aren’t here enough for me to make it a habit. I can’t help it! I just forget.”
He just looked at me. I stood on my side of the bed, fiddling with the bed sheet, not quite brave enough to get within arms reach of Him. I went on.
“I mean really! If anyone is to blame here, this is entirely YOUR…” my little fairy finally woke up and smacked me upside the head. “…fault.” I finished lamely.
He just closed His eyes and shook His head. “Bed. Now.”
So I dropped it. Grateful that He’d not busted me then for my mouth and not willing to push my luck. Who says I’m a slow learner, eh? ;)
But I brought it up again the next day in the car.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for from Him. I feel guilty, such a failure for consistently missing this rule. And it’s not just been recently, I’ve struggled with remembering that stupid glass of water since day one. I want to be absolved from the responsibility I guess. I don’t know.
Maybe I just want validation, that it is indeed very difficult to remember things that I am only supposed to remember once in awhile. I want Him to pat me on the head and say “it’s ok baby. I understand.”
But He didn’t.
As soon as I brought it up, He sighed. “No kaya. You know what your rules are. I’m not accepting any lame-ass excuses and I haven’t decided on an appropriate punishment yet.”
“I don’t forget on purpose You know.” I said defensively. “I don’t see how this is a punishable offense. It’s an honest mistake.” I held my hands up and shrugged. “How can I make this part of a routine if You aren’t home?”
(Yes I was trying to hit below the belt. Trying to take the focus off of my failure and put it on to Him. And yes, I am thoroughly ashamed.)
“Fine. Then you do it every night whether I’m there or not. Get the glass of water, put it on my nightstand, every. single. night. Now you’ll have no excuse for it ‘not being routine’.”
“Oh great. Now I have to serve You when You aren’t even there??”
“Yep.”
“Fine!”
“Pardon?”
“Yes Sir.” and I stared glumly out the window.
And I’ve been obsessing over it ever since. Why? Why this rule? I have a lot of rules, I think, and it’s just this one that kicks my ass. I want it taken away. Just… damn. You know?
Okay. So I know there seems to be no point to all of that, and certainly no dramatic or humorous outcome. It’s simply something I’m struggling with and of all the many many hard aspects of power exchange that there are to struggle with, I’m tripped up over a god damn glass of water. Maybe that’s just it. All the paces He puts me through, most especially this last week, and I came through them beautifully (if I do say so myself). I made the adjustment without a hitch, I took what He gave and it would have been a perfect, perfect time together if not for the water glass.
Anyway, there. It was on my mind and now it’s not. :D
I know I have so very much more exciting and kinky things to share and show and say. It’s just been very hard for me to get it all… um… in coherent words I guess. All in good time I suppose.
Master’s still here so He’s keeping me busy. We picked the kids up yesterday and my daughter LOVED her room. We got new furniture so I’ve been in rearrange heaven, too. The dog was sick and left me so very many nasty messes to clean up. The kids start school tomorrow and I’ve been getting a fashion show for “ohmyGod MOM! What do I wear????!!” It’s been hectic, which leaves me no time to process and make those pictures into stories.
So… Saturday is Ren Faire for anyone wanting to go. Penguinskitty, magdala? That work for y’all? We’ll have kidlets with us so don’t expect me to be in collar and cuffs. ;) I’d love to see you there though, if you can make it.
That’s all for now. Master keeps coming in here and touching me or talking to me which means ‘wrap it up, girlie girl’. :D
bluebelle… check your email sugarplum. :)
~cunt
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Uncategorized | kaya | 
Thursday August 31st, 2006 10:21pm | 
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