I’m in an irate mood. One of those ones where everything just grates on your nerves. I thought I was sending out enough vibes to the universe for Master not to ruffle my feathers the wrong way, but no…he still felt the urge to drag his fingernails down my proverbial chalkboard.
It’s been a while since I had a good vent/rant as I’ve been in la-la land recently, writing about M/s fluff and exercising my brain, but it is definitely time for me to have a good, long, hard old-fashioned purge. So here goes:
Master has this absolutely, positively annoying habit of 99.9% of the time phrasing requests as post-failure demands as in, he doesn’t say, “Get me a coffee” or “Can I have a coffee?” he says, “Where’s my coffee bitch???” with the tone of an annoyed customer who ordered one an hour ago and it hasn’t arrived.
Substitute the word coffee with about ten other things throughout the day and you’ll begin to understand how a woman in an irate mood, can begin to plot the slow painful death of her owner.
I’m sure he thinks it’s funny or cute, but god help me, I’m this close to slapping him somewhere the next time he says it because I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!
“Where’s my breakfast bitch?”
“Where’s my remote controller bitch?’
“Where’s my blanket bitch?”
Even writing this I can feel my blood pressure starting to rise.
Sometimes, in exasperation, I’ll ask him,
“Did you ask for it?” knowing full well that he didn’t.
And he’ll answer, “No, but you’re supposed to be anticipating my needs.”
It’s definitely one of my buttons and he knows it – the fucker.
I’ve always hated being entrusted with a job and then being questioned about why it wasn’t done or what happened when things were out of my control. But the one thing I hate above everything else is being accused of not doing my job, when I have done it. That’s why his demanding, questioning tone puts my teeth on edge because how can I fail to do something when I haven’t even been told what to do??? That just annoys the fucking crap out of me. Really. In.a. MAJOR.way.
They don’t teach you how to deal with shit like this at slave school (although obviously they teach it at dom school and Master excelled at the subject) and after three years of swallowing the bitter pill that is endurance, I’m pretty damn close to breaking point.
If I was Master’s girlfriend instead of his slave, this would be point where I would be screeching like a fishwife at him. But I’m not and so we have Reason #365 of why it is difficult to be a slave:
You can’t tell your owner to, “STOP FUCKING DOING THAT FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, MAN!”
Being that Master and I are two different people and all, I realise that we’re going to do things that annoy each other. Just off the top of my head, I’m sure my constant Japan talk and lack of enthusiasm in boot-wearing rub him up the wrong way, while his ‘post-failure-demand-requests’ and ridiculously loud sneezes annoy me. That coming together of different habits and customs when you live with someone is a really, really big thing.
Think about it, if you’re not a morning person and never in your life have you been able to wake up before 8am, but your owner is a morning person and gets up at 5am everyday, as a slave, you, in the blink of an eye, have to become a morning person too. This may be after 10, 20 or 30 years of doing what works for you. When you live together in an M/s relationship, you’re suddenly thrust into another person’s way of life and you have to accept it and live with it.
Personally, this is what I think breaks more M/s relationships than anything else; it’s not problems with the play or the roles or anything M/s related, it’s simple things like he sleeps on your side of the bed or blows his nose in the shower.
Seemingly unimportant things that are nothing more than the breath of air off a butterfly’s wings.