"i Baked Your Fucking Cake"

Apparently that's high on the list of things NOT to say to one's Master. i think i covered the entire list about a million times over in the past few days and yesterday in particular.

i got annoyed at Master's being goofy which was exactly the same goofiness which had cheered me up earlier in the day, the same goofiness whose PURPOSE was to make me laugh. So i got even more obnoxious than i had been prior, no small feat. Master wanted me to bake a cake. A boxed mix. No big deal. Um, hello, SLAVE here!

i refused.

i've been telling Him "no" constantly of late and it seriously needs to stop. Apparently He felt this way too because He got the quirt and, with a lingering bitchy attitude and no semblance of respectfulness, i baked the cake. i stuck around until it was done and removed it from the oven. At the time this seemed like a HUGE concession on my part, as if i was doing Him a MAJOR favor. Um, hello, SLAVE here!

Master was worried about me as this was going on and it just pissed me off further. When i went into the bathroom (without asking of course since i was in full bitch mode), He was ready to investigate since that's where i would most likely cut and where i'd gone when i was going to kill myself.

Then i went and sat in the spot where i sleep and Master wanted to know where i was. Answering Him might have been a good idea. Perhaps with something more informative than "What difference does it make?". i wasn't doing anything wrong physically and was livid that i needed to answer to Him. Um, hello, SLAVE here!

i was still mad at Him for having been acting goofy earlier but not for distrusting me when i was in a mood. Besides hurting myself in the bathroom fairly recently, i'd left the house barefoot through the window of the room where my spot is not very many days ago and His specific question had been whether i was in that room or the bedroom. He hadn't insisted i do anything other than come out where He could see that i was safe. That He used to trust me to be safe but no longer does due to my own actions really infuriated me. i refused to move.

He was even fairly tolerant of that and gave me a bit of time before again demanding that i come out. i whined and argued and refused and insisted i wasn't doing anything wrong and finally told Him to just leave me alone because i had baked His fucking cake. Um, hello, SLAVE here!

i think He must have teleported into the bedroom because there was a quirt in my face attached to a none too pleased Master before i could even blink. He had had it by that point and my cursing in speaking to Him had been the final straw. i wasn't any less pissed, maybe even more so, but i'm also not stupid. i started answering Him respectfully. i was scared that He'd punish me physically but never that He'd lose control and seriously hurt me. Still, He was mad and i wasn't about to resist any longer.

Despite my acquiescence, He struck my left thigh with the quirt once before escorting me back into the other room. It hurt but it surprised me more than anything. i hadn't been expecting HIm to use it since i'd started listening to Him again but i'd certainly driven Him to the point of doing so... and past that point... into a different zip code. i remained mad nevertheless. Even that didn't snap me out of the mood i was in though it definitely made me behave.

After sitting on the futon for a few minutes glaring at Him, i asked in a voice i took care to make sound bitchy, how long i had to stay there. He asked if i wanted to go to bed. He asked it nicely. my response? "If it will get me out of HERE, i do". He allowed me to go and i never chained, just fell asleep. When i woke up, my bad mood had gone, thank God, replaced by a tiny bruise where the quirt had struck.

i found it kind of ironic because i have seldom carved at my legs when i cut so they don't bear may self induced scars. The mark from the quirt happens to be right at the only such scars on either of my legs. i don't know. There just seemed something sort of poetic about that to me.