When a sadist is a sweetheart

Or maybe he's just oblivious.
Or thick skinned.
Or used to the idea that submissives are a pain in the ass.

Another day or three of progesterone, depending on how tolerant I can be of the shaky state of my intellectual and emotional health. I'm going to try to hold out until the end, I've upped my antidepressants which may help, but I'm not proud of how kvetchy I've been. Especially over the holiday weekend.

But the sadist, who can be quite stern and controlling, doesn't seem to be distressed at all. Maybe, dominant that he is, he's just used to ignoring any little mews, squawks, and whimpers emitted by anyone he owns unless it would amuse him to respond - or unless he thinks a line has been crossed and the offender firmly dealt with.

But that doesn't seem to be the case here. And it's true that he does spoil me... so while I led off this evening's chat session with a crawling mea culpa for being such a pain, he assumed I was apologizing for telling him about my session with the dentist. (A front top crown is being replaced.)

I haven't felt very creative since I've been on the progesterone, although I did manage to write one good poem for my Master over the weekend. But he says don't worry about being creative, I did a good job, concentrate on feeling him touching me...

Oh yes.
I can do that.

Thank you, my Master.