Thursday, June 11, 2009

Disappointment

Sigh.

I won't be going away with my Master at the end of the month. The details, the practicalities, just didn't work out. And he's right that the schedule, as determined by the primary reason for his trip, wouldn't have been very satisfying for our purposes.

However, he did say there are other possibilities in the future.

Real possibilities.

So I will pout a little over my current disappointment, and then move on to imagining some new, lovely, evil, challenging, scary, glorious scenarios until he chooses to reveal his plans for me.

I am actually quite happy.

And I will do all I can to make him wish I were with him on that weekend he goes off without me.

8 comments:

Paul said...

OG, I hope that you remain happy, that nothing comes along to break your mood.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.

mamacrow said...

'Real possibilities.'

yay! sorry you're disapointed, but something to look forward to (((hugs)))

cutesy pah said...

I understand the disappointment for sure, but am so glad you're happy with future possibilities for even more good stuff.

hugs.

Orlando C. said...

So, I have to ask, OG. Most of the writers I know get the best ink on the page when they're in heat and the lover is away. True for you as well?

And if so, is that a consolation or an annoyance?

oatmeal girl said...

Paul, there is always coming along to break my mood, but these days I tend to bounce back pretty fast. I am a fairly mercurial creature. My Master amazes me with how tolerant he is. That doesn't mean I get off without being punished - he understands, as do I, that a punishment spanking is a very effective way to imprint a lesson on me. They upset me, they are physically painful, and they do the job. I am grateful for them - and suspect that they do go some way towards keeping me happy because they stabilize me.

mamacrow - I do suspect that whatever it is he has in mind will be much more satisfying than what we could have managed on that weekend (the last one of the month). I was mainly looking forward to the drive out and back (masturbating for him all the while) and the night in bed after he came back from carousing. There wouldn't have been much more.

cutesy pah - I am, in fact, wracked with curiosity as to what he has in mind. I suspect he will keep things secret for a while, and then feed me tidbits - just enough to spark the writing of pages of riffs on what I imagine will happen.

Orlando - as I have mentioned before, I can't really say that he is my lover. He is my Master, my Lord, my owner. I see him maybe once a week, occasionally twice, for short periods of time. I won't and can't discuss the circumstances. In any case, he is always away. And as soon as I start writing for him, I feel as if I'm in heat. But yes, oddly and ridiculously enough for my age, I do go into heat. Even more ridiculously, I'm on a 2 week cycle. And then I go absolutely out of my tree.

But as for the quality of my writing... my best is usually done for him. But sometimes, I get into this frame of mind, and the stuff just flows... I wrote a long piece for him, a long vignette which will form an even longer piece about the weekend that won't happen...I wrote a short piece for him (you understand, this is an important part of my duties, to keep him supplied with original materials to arouse him - both the pieces themselves and the fact that they were written just for him) so I wrote a short bit about serving him in the shower, and he ordered me to write the preceding section, to end with my leaning against the tiled shower wall and being surprised by feeling a hot stream of urine hit my lower back and run down over my ass. I think he expected a short scene but I wrote about 1400 words. It all flowed in a very natural way. There have been other little pieces, other little scenes, and now I'm thinking of making it into a long, complete piece but allowing it to stay in different sections, different styles, including some poems. It will end with the poem, Re-creation, posted on December 2, 2008.

Orlando C. said...

Sorry, OG. I am always ambivalent about using the titles that other people use in reference to their partners, and "partner" seems so stuffy. (Although we've used both "lover" and "partner" in some contexts to allow gender ambiguity.) I was just in an email correspondence with another blogger, who is a bit on the rocks with her...Master, she would say...but I feel very odd calling someone I haven't met someone's Master, all capitalized and all, especially when their relationship is rocky.

But now I will get over this. [Deep breath.] I'm over it.

I also write for Murre. We must discuss. At great length. Sometime.

DL's toy said...

Best thing ever: "I am actually quite happy."

Isn't that all we could all ever hope for?

He will wish you were there; that's a given. And when all the plans are right there on top of you, well...

*hug*

oatmeal girl said...

Orlando, I fully sympathize with your quandary, especially when you factor in other people's rules and such. When the sadist indicated that I had permission to address him as "Master" - that he WAS my Master - I took it as a gift, a graduation gift. it is a very personal thing, and I refer to him as such here as a sign of my delight and respect and of... that other emotion which is, perhaps, both unfortunate and inevitable in such a relationship.

But that doesn't imply that anyone else should refer to him as my Master. However, do be clear that, in outside world terms, he is neither my lover nor my partners. he just isn't and never will be. So call him the sadist, or my demon muse, or the fiend, or that guy who adds a burning spark to my life. I honestly don't care.

toy - I AM happy. Isn't that funny? He probably makes me happier than any man (or woman) has for a long time. I suspect it helps having clear limitations on what the relationship is or can be. I think much of the angst with the philosopher came from thinking, hoping, wanting it to be more than he was capable of having. I just couldn't believe that it wasn't possible. And much of the happiness now comes from the security of living in a metaphorical cage, one end of a chain clipped around my neck and the other end in his hand. My whole life isn't directed, but the bit that is controlled is enough to make me feel safe.

As for the weekend... I suspect he will tease his friend about what could have been. And lie in bed alone at night, wishing my hand were on his cock.