Who died and made you my master?

You know how some people can get under your skin and gnaw at you? Just an annoying little inconvenience, but still enough to piss you off? Well, I haz me one of those.

This particular person has said a few things to me that, although reasonably innocent individually, when taken as a group have seriously rubbed me up the wrong way. Last night it all kind of culminated into a big seething mass with an off-hand comment and I was just about ready to slap the guy down.

Master had decided to give me my birthday caning over the table after dinner. He did his usually ‘drum-beat’ caning that’s not particularly hard, but gives me a warm bottie and serves his purpose, to which the person in question commented:

“If that’s your “caning”, you don’t want to be caned by me.”

He then proceeded to show us exactly how it should be done on his girl.

It just made me irrationally angry. Granted I’m plaguing at the moment and breathing makes me irrationally angry, but his tone and the implied message that I was a wuss really bothered me.

This incident is a prime example of the nasty thing called ‘competition’ rearing its ugly head in bdsm. There definitely does seem to be a thing about who can shock the most or who endures the most. I gave up long ago trying to compete in the ‘who can take the most’ competition, but Master and I still have a running joke about one-upmanship where a group of subbly ones are discussing how harsh and cruel their masters are:

“I sleep in a dog cage every night.”

“You get to sleep in a dog cage? Extravagant! I sleep in a hamster cage!”

“You get to sleep in a shoe-box? Extravagant! I sleep in a shoe-box!”

“You get to sleep in a shoe-box? Extravagant! I sleep in a match-box!”

“You get to sleep in a match-box? Extravagant! I sleep on a thumb-tack!”

We just keep on saying stupider and stupider stuff until we run out of small things to say. I don’t think we’ve ever gotten down to a quark, but I’m sure we’ll get there one day.

It was a strange kind of night. Master had a bee up his bum the entire time and kept picking at little things which made me respond in kind and we ended up shouting at each other and in a semi-fight over stupid stuff like whether I’d opened a pull-top can with the tip of a knife. I can best describe him as in a “testy mood” and I didn’t know why seeing that he had been fine all day and that was even before the comment-fest began.

So Master was testy, I was irrationally angry and it was just uncomfortable all-round. Perhaps it’s the ridiculous heat of late that is wearing down on everyone, but I know I definitely need some time to decompress after that night.

EDIT: Master has just shouted at me some more because he wasn’t ‘testy’ he was “angry”. Apparently, opening a pull-top can with a knife IS the worst thing I could possibly do and me talking to our guests while I serve dinner, thereby extending the time it takes to get the food on the table, is the SECOND worst thing I could do.


14 thoughts on “Who died and made you my master?

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  1. “Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o’clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah”

    Of course, if you told that to the young slaves of today they wouldn’t believe you.

  2. Gee he does sound angry, ask him if he has his man period? Then run away very very quickly. PMSL

    Sir and I also joke about the bdsm competition. I can still vividly remember speaking to a well know Brissy Dom about something I wanted to try. He then proceeded to drone on and on about how he was going to do this and that with his subbie, how it was going to be more out there than what I wanted to do, more painful etc.

    I later said to Sir that would have to be THE biggest wanker I’ve ever met. That was my first introduction to the I’m more a pain slut, sadistic Master/Mistress than you, you and oh yeah you.

    You see it on fetlife all the time.
    I’m just waiting to see some person putting needles into their eye balls and maybe burning themselves with steam to show how tough they are. *rolls eyes*

    And seriously, that guy who showed you how to do a caning, what a fuckwit.

        1. Not pins, it has to be forks!!

          I think the droning doms are just the worst…it’s like, get a life, we don’t care how many forks you stick in your submissive.

  3. I completely understand what you mean by the “competition” between slaves/subs/bottoms …heck anyone really. I often even end up comparing myself to other slaves. They say something or I read a blog and I think “wow, I dont feel like I submit enough” or “am I a bad submissive because I dont do that?”. Its entirely foolish. While its always better to learn and grown and deepen your servitude, you can only do what is right to you in your relationship. What one Master may see as an act of “proper” serving, another may feel is totally uncalled for. Every Master/Dom is different just as every submissive/slave is different. There is no need to compare, its like comparing apples to oranges! Both are tasty yummy heathly treats but thats is about all they have in common. I have to tell myself this all the time, its a complex I have a hard time moving past. I think a lot of people do it subconsciously. It is however, very annoying and unattractive in my opinion.

    1. I think the reason I was so unrationally angry about it was because I felt bad because he did hit her harder than Master hit me and I was still dancing around, doing the botty jig! Lol..

      I have to keep reminding myself not to compare too. It’s so hard not to sometimes…

  4. I have friends like that and days like that with Master too. I can’t say anything about our lifestyle without my friend coming up with something ‘worse’, and just this morning Master woke up on the wrong side of the bed, which means that anything and everything begins to bother him no matter how quiet and unassuming I try to be, which then leads to a host of new rules and reminders that leave me quietly seething and hoping it will be over soon.

    Point is, it does end eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later for you.

    1. I realise I’m not the nicest or easiest person to live with 100% of the time, so I guess he has got the right to be having his man-period sometimes too. I think some deep breathing is required for both of us 🙂

  5. Lets get the facts straight, you were told on more than one occasion that evening that l wanted you to quickly put the food l had prepared on the table, to stop talking while you were getting the food out of the fridge as you were simply delaying eating and what you were talking about should be done as table dinner talk while we were all eating.

    You should never use a cooks knife to open tins, loosen jar lids, or prise ope ring top cans, its a professional blade used for cooking and such abuse only damages it and you have in the past snapped in half my ceramic cooks knife and l didn’t want you adding to your list of abuse crimes.

    1. And I told you that if you wanted it on the table more quickly you could have helped instead of just sitting there, not talking to our guests and yelling at me.

      I apologised for the knife several times. I didn’t do anything to your ceramic knife that I shouldn’t have done, it just broke while I was cutting a slice of cheese.

      1. ehm.. not helping Kitten… not helping.

        (on the up side: you might get a caning even harder than your friend did, grinn)



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