The House of Death

Not the title of the latest horror flick, but the title of my LIFE.

Well okay, nothing is dead. I’m so melodramatic.

But people are sick. Except me.

Jes had strep last week, Amber has it now, and Master woke up this morning sicker than a DOG.

He’s so sick that I have performed services that never. ever. EVAR. made it into my fantasies. Things that are typically on the fetish taboo list. Things that, once upon a time, I got PAID for.

He was quite unamused when I asked for my paycheck.

Apparently, humor isn’t appreciated when you are dying of the death on the toilet. Hmmph.

Well. At least I got laid before the germs invaded his body. It was a good one, too. You know that scrunchy-faced, body-jittering move that people do when they bite into something uber-sour? Yeah. I was doing that underneath him on the bed. Because he wouldn’t leave my clit be. There are only so many times it feels good before it turns into torture, you know what I mean?

Now, I wouldn’t have classified lemon-face OR spirit fingers as my sexy look, but it sure seemed to have done him in. He finally had to stop giving me ‘gasms so he could have one of his own.

That reminds me- I used to gloat cuz he’d only get his one orgasm and I’d get three or four or more, until he made sure I had NONE so he could gloat about his one.

Isn’t he an ass? Honestly.

Now I just gloat secretly to myself, smirking when he isn’t looking. *nods*

Wish me luck that whatever germs he has weren’t present in his bodily fluids when we fucked. I don’t have time to die.