Learning to accept

Some parts of submission are easy.
Some parts of submission are joyous.
And some parts are very hard and very painful.

I am not referring to being caned.
The exact opposite, in fact.
And the pain comes from jealousy.

A few minutes ago I accidentally found out that the sadist was setting loose the beast this afternoon, having gone where he goes to take care of that need. And if I hadn't found out accidentally, then before long I would have found out anyway, as I can't help watching for testimony from the recipient of his incredible cruelty. He seemed to have been particularly vicious today, as he has tended to be lately, which is something we have discussed.

There is no way I want to suffer what I might if he didn't have this outlet. And in fact, if he didn't have an appropriate outlet for his very extreme needs, he would probably go out and find one, for which I would again be very grateful.

Really, comparing what I know about his relationship with his slave and the one he has with me, I quite prefer what I have, and suspect the poor creature who suffers for him would be pleased to have some of what I have.

Except for one thing.

The one thing that leaves a heavy, dark, undigested lump right below my sternum.

My Master's visits to me are half-hour fly-by's, wedged into my lunch hour, leaving me little time to digest either lunch or what I have just experienced, and certainly no time to explore further and in one session the various corners of our relationship and the various ways in which he can receive and extract pleasure from me.

I know that if he went there today, I know that if he did what he did, which from the hints I saw sound very fierce and very cruel, that his need was very great. I know that I will be safer when he does see me next week precisely because he opened the valve and let out the steam of his evil urges to scald someone else's flesh.

Still, my heart feels as if striped by welts from the strip of wood he uses as a cane when I think that he might have come here instead... that he might have decided that I was well enough after all... that he might have come here and spent an hour letting me serve his pleasure and releasing his frustration at having been denied the use of me for so long, first by vacation and then by illness...

Just writing this is calming me.
And remembering that he wants to be sure I am well.
And knowing the effect his desire for me has on him.
And remembering the sweet and revealing things he wrote me the other day.

I just needed to let it out.

He protects me.
He could easily tell me.
He could shove my face in it.
He protects me
and he wants to protect me.
From knowing that the beast was on the loose.
From knowing that the beast had gone to feed.
And from knowing that the beast was at his fiercest.

In Cocteau's La belle et la bête, the Beast is embarrassed when Beauty catches him with the bloody evidence dripping from his jaw that he has been out hunting. My beast is like that, too. He tries, I think, to protect me from the horror.

I tell him that I love him.
I tell him that I love all that he is.
And I do. I can't cut him up
into bits of this and that,
trim away the nasty parts,
the rotten parts,
the sections that don't quite conform
to standards that society
has said are right and good.

I know that he's a sadist, and I'm learning to accept and understand his wish to protect me from the beast. It's just... even though I know how much practicalities and availability determine when he goes where, and even though I am grateful that in fact it is relatively easy for him to spend time with me, even if it's only in small chunks...

It's just that I do so wish he could find a full hour to spend with his pet!

OK.
End of kvetching.
I do feel somewhat better getting it out.

And perhaps this will keep me from moping around and whining to him and letting him know that I know where he was earlier today when I was wishing he were here with me.

Thanks for listening. And now it is way past my bedtime. I'm off to practice my daily assignment designed by him for his own pleasure and arousal. I will lie in bed and practice and be filled with his presence, slipping off to sleep wrapped in the chain of his ownership.

I am, all and all, a happy, lucky, pet.