I’m still sick with a cold, and I’ve got a big blemish on one side of my lip that hurts a bit. My gentleman figured out what was wrong with his thesis, and I’m home with puffy lymph nodes, but much more perky than yesterday. I think I’m going to try to get this place somewhat ship-shape again, since my linens are over due to be changed and the place is piled with clutter.
One of these days I have to post pictures of thep place- for now I’m wrestling with the usual storage dilemas. My gentleman has been responding to thesis stress by complaining about how messy I am, which, given his usual habits and the state of his corner of the room, would make me raise my eyebrow if I was actually capable of that trick.
Me, I’m being mildly amused by the way my mind handles having to clean up the mess around here.
I’d be a perfect service sub, if only the darn dominant would do everything I want. You know, hot tea, obsessive table settings, research, sending me on top secret missions. Instead it’s all about this obedience crap, and people who want to shave my head and put metal things in my bits. Don’t you understand? You just exist as a means to fantasy fulfillment and making me feel less silly about my obsessive compulsive tendencies. You’re supposed to be vaguely interesting in the background, not trying to whip out that kajira bullshit or intervene with my carefully ordered schedule.
You see, I have plans, you know. Saturday morning I’m going to slip out of bed early and wake you up with tea and homemade pancakes. Then you’re going to take a shower with towels I’ve warmed on the heater and put on the clothes I’ve picked… I mean laid out for you. Then piss off and go do some work in your study, I don’t want you traipsing around getting underfoot while I wash up the breakfast dishes. I’m gonna go study now for a few hours, with a snack, and then you’re allowed to see me again when I bring a tray to your desk with lunch. Eat it and appreciate the simple luxury of a home cooked meal. Okay?
Got that? Okay, now I’m going to get dinner on so it can cook all afternoon and putter around with gardening and getting the laundry done. I’m going to bother you about what socks need doing. But don’t bother me, I have more important studying/art/whatever. Get back in your study. Shoo.
Okay, it’s dinner time. I don’t care if you hate fresh flowers and fussy table linens. Go put on a nice shirt and use the napkins I put out. Okay, good. Hey, stop having seconds, I’m saving the leftovers for another meal! Go retire to your comfy chair with a book, and I’ll give you some more tea while the fire… um… heater makes crackling noises. You can have two cookies, I’d like to think of you as having severe restraint. Not the whole batch. Hey! Put that tin down!
Okay, off to bed. On time. We keep strict bed times in this household. I’ve warmed the bed, get into your spot. And stop trying to snuggle, you’re squooshing me flat. Shhh. Oh… Sex? Nevermind, yes. Of course. No, I like this position better. Yes, like that. Mmm. No, do it the other way and you sleep in the wet spot, I’m not –that- submissive.
See, aren’t I good at serving you? Sleep well, because I decided you’re taking me for a crack of dawn jog tomorrow.
I think I’m not the only one who tends in this direction either.