Well, my week has calmed down…a bit, which allows me to move from overwhelm to self-reflection.

In the quiet, I think about how eagerly I take on Master’s assignments. Even if I struggle with an assignment, my eagerness doesn’t necessarily wane.

He gave me the assignment of a daily task earlier this year with no requirement for reporting. I attempted to do on my own, but it quickly waned. When the assignment came up again a couple of months ago, I was the one who requested to do reports because it is easier for me to fulfill assignments when I know I have to write a report. He expressed a bit of reluctance, which I attributed to Him not wanting to micromanage this part of my life. He, however, knew it would help me and so reporting became part of the assignment.

I’m looking back through my e-mail to see when my reports stopped. I knew I’d stopped them, but I couldn’t remember when. The last report was the week I started my new client (which has dominated my time since). Hmmm…

What is surprising to me is how casually and unconsciously I dropped the reporting (and then eventually the daily task) when I approach all other assignments so eagerly.

Master may be sadistic, but he is not mean. If I’d gone to Him and talked about being overwhelmed, I know He would consider my request for some adjustment. He might deny any adjustment to the requirements of the assignment, but He would hear me out.

Instead, my will wandered in and just took over. I judged what were my priorities and what I could handle.

When He told me I would be punished for not fulfilling the assignment, I froze. I felt both the anger of “doesn’t He understand how much I’m dealing with right now” and disbelief and sadness that I’d treated an assignment so cavalierly. When I’m feeling two opposing feelings at the same time, I freeze (and get quiet).

The fact that He’s holding me accountable for this and intends to punish me makes my pussy wet…not in anticipation of the punishment but that it is a reminder that I’m His. I feel peace under His direction, and I’m glad that I can rest in that – even when I wander off for a moment.

My day sucked.

Besides dealing with all hell breaking loose with one of my work clients (not my fault, but yet-another-problem with the project we’re working on), I have an impending punishment on my mind.

Master brought my attention yesterday to my slacking off in a particular area – weekly reports on instituting daily activities into my life.

I assumed my current life circumstances (a new, big work project) and also the fact that I took the leap into a huge, personal change that we’ve been discussing for a long (long) time would be sufficient explanation. Master deemed these excuses…and my punishment – whatever He decides it to be – will be a factor of how many days I slacked off times the number of excuses I gave for not doing it.

At some level, I get it…and I can’t really argue with his rationale (nor his high expectations of me). But adding punishment to the mix just feels like the straw that is going to break my back right now.

He said I could talk freely on this blog (that my explaining my reasons wouldn’t multiply my punishment), but I’m having a hard time writing all that I am thinking in this public forum. I want to yell and kick and scream and cry “not fair!”

Sometimes I hate how well Master knows me. He sees my struggles and understands yet waits for me to punch out of the paper bag world I’m in.

I’m still smiling from sex this past weekend with Master.

Sometimes it’s the small things that make me smile…like losing myself in the sumptuous task of sucking His cock and licking His balls. There are times I get frustrated that my jaw and my body position prevent me from having more stamina on any particular day, but otherwise time suspends when I’m worshiping His cock. I feel like I could do it all day.

When he slid His cock inside me, he told me I couldn’t cum until he told me to. My pussy was already wet from licking His cock and balls, and I enjoyed His cock gliding in and out of my well-lubricated pussy. When He added licking and sucking on my nipples to the mix, I felt the orgasm starting to well inside me.

At one point, I let out a big sigh…a reaction a bit out of place in the moment. He asked me what that was. I said, “I’m thinking about baseball,” indicating my attempt to hold my orgasm at bay. He continued licking my nipple as He conveyed that He wasn’t sure that would help me because I’d just start thinking about all those balls and those bats and about being fucked with one. I laughed out loud because – yes – clearly that wasn’t going to work now (or ever again!).

My squirting orgasms feel so amazing. They’re different than a clit orgasm, which tends to feel tingly and electric. Squirting comes from a deeper place inside me. Once I have one, they start coming in waves. I feel them through my entire body. They were particularly deep and intense this time. I enjoy how much my body seems to be opening to allow these incredible sensations. Squirting really is about being open and letting go.

I discovered my ability to squirt about this time last year. It’s wonderful to reflect on the joy of the initial experience and how my exploration has evolved my understanding of my body. It’s a connection and appreciation for my body that has eluded me most of my life.

As I look back and see how far I’ve come in a year, I wonder where I’ll be a year from now as I continue to open up and let go.

When I was in kindergarten, the teacher told my parents in a parent-teacher conference that I needed to practice coloring inside the lines. My parents then bought me a coloring book so I could do my “homework.”

One night when Dad got home from work, I proudly showed him my masterpieces. He turned each page and praised me for doing so well. Then he arrived at a page that was all scribbled on. It wasn’t just a few scribbles; it was dark, heavy scribbles trying to cover as much of the page as possible.

“What is this?” Dad asked.

Without blinking, I proudly replied, “Oh, I started and then messed up.” In my eyes, the whole thing was ruined the moment I made the slightest mistake.

He was a bit stunned by the fervor with which I’d scribbled out my mistake. Both parents tried to explain to me that just because I’d gone outside the lines a little bit didn’t mean I needed to ruin the whole picture. Even now I remember looking at them like they were the crazy ones.

—

I remembered this story after breaking down crying in front of Master today. Sometimes the pressure I feel from Him pushing me to what I interpret as no less than perfection overwhelms me. In these moments, I feel like nothing I do is good enough and that I will never attain His standards.

When I broke down, He reminded me that I do measure up…and He is going to push me.

I recalled this story after He left, and what stood out was what my parents said about not needing to ruin the whole picture. When I interpret Master’s pushing as a demand for perfection I’m not achieving, I seem to scribble out the whole picture in dark and heavy lines.

As I wrote this story down, what stood out was how I felt when they told me I didn’t need to be so perfect. That five year old girl reacted with much more self confidence than I felt today with Master (or feel in my life at the moment). Maybe my parents had a point; but I also knew where the bar now was for coloring inside the lines, and I was going to attain it no matter what. I felt a motivation to meet and exceed the challenge and pride in my ability to do so.

Somewhere along the line my perfectionist tendencies got tangled up with the message that I am inadequate. I started striving to please and be perfect in order to prove I’m worthy. Yet, at one point – I did act from that place of inner knowing where striving for perfection isn’t a need to control or to fill a void but is a pathway to expressing the best in me.

I want Him to push me, and – deep down – I know I have it in me to rise to the bar He sets.