Being sick sucks. Especially when what you have is a highly contagious virus that could last 2-3 fucking weeks!
I mean, 2-3 non-fucking weeks.
My lovely Irishman called tonight. Obviously, I had to regretfully decline his request to avail himself of that which is rightfully his. It's bad enough giving a guy a cold, but a 3-week virus? Even he couldn't have been that horny.
As an aside... doesn't it strike you as odd that so many doms own me... have rights to me... Seems I ought to be able to design some sort of hierarchy chart. Well, of course you all know what it would be.
The Irishman can call in the middle of the night or the middle of the afternoon and if at all possible I will drop everything and happily present myself for use. I think of him sometimes, and smile at memories of him walking up to my door at a quarter of 1 in the morning. I think of how stern he becomes, how abrupt, how focused, and, underneath, how gentle and considerate. I'm curious to see, as we go on, how far he lets himself go in exploring his urges with me. And I'm happy to have him in my life, even though his appearances are brief and unanticipated.
Serving him pleases me.
My sadistic demon muse owns pretty much every minute of my waking hours and, I suspect, much of my dream world as well. He is always lingering underneath my consciousness, and usually just the act of sitting in front of my computer is enough to bring him to the fore. He values me, he lets me know that he values me, and despite the fact that I drive him crazy, he devotes much time to devising, revising, and then instituting plans that he hopes will train and mold me into what he wants me to be.
I want to be what he wants me to be.
The philosopher sits in a frame on my desk. The philosopher envelopes my butt in pink panties. The philosopher nestles above my cleavage in the guise of his gift of a handmade intarsia Obama logo pin, which I wear almost every day. The philosopher is like a soft and gentle second skin, a whisper of a hug, a tease of sun through the forest leaves... with no promise that there is any more sun to follow but welcome nevertheless.
Love trumps everything else.
Except for a very sadistic virus.
Nothing beats a virus.
Hmmm... I wonder if the sadist could beat it out of me... do you think the endorphins...?