“Have a set ready for the mansion,” I tell Spitfire before logging during her morning. It’s o’dark early for me and I am sleepy, cranky, and tired.
I wake up when she’s gone to dinner and I start to put my set list together when I check and see what the notice says.
I triple check all other modes of communication. Nothing. No message anywhere from either the B-man or Spitfire.
Visualize steam erupting from my ears.
I decided to go and let my bitch fly and go on Deck with the dommes of Divine Sadism. Eventually, set time comes and I go check it out.
“Playing with the scumherd?” She asks me as I set stuff up for her.
My anger has risen by then to explosive proportions. “I think it would be safer if I was there, not here.”
I leave and join Rosa scening with her and two of the naughtiest boys, and another domme.
“This won’t do. I want you to dance with me.”
I growl and snarl, but I obey, making a simple excuse – I’m needed elsewhere.
I rejoin Spitfire, sliding into her arms.
Almost two hours of silence.
She knows I get hyped up and snarly when I go to Divine Sadism.
She never trips the trigger which calms me down. She goes to bed without talking to me or leaving me a message. I stay dialled up for the rest of the day, and then some.
It didn’t help that one of her “sisters” joked about how she couldn’t tell who was the dominant in the relationship between us. I mentioned this to Spa who was there when it happened and Spa goes all snarly over it too. Long talks. More talks.
Over the last few days, Spa has been instrumental in calming me down over “who’s on top.” Mum’s advice rings true too. It also doesn’t help that I’ve been having full-fledged body memories of being a pedo’s plaything.
Eventually, Spitfire listened to me. The trigger to help her still works and I convinced her to run the double trance. “I don’t want you to be 8391, I want you to run it to try to balance you.”
See, my anger has rattled her, since she was the main target.
“Why are you so upset?” She asked me.
“I came back. I stayed. I didn’t get a “good girl” or a dial down. I asked you to have a set ready, not do the set!”
“I really dropped the ball.”
“Lesson learned, mine.”
Other than letting her know when she’s failing as a domme, things seem to be getting back to normal. I don’t know how to explain to her that I don’t think she’s failing when it’s a miscommunication.
Spa is championing an idea that I concur with. As I’m writing this, I am obeying my domme – I’m at the ER waiting to be checked cause it hurt to breathe, even with a humidifier right at my head. I didn’t want Spitfire to worry or freak about it either.
I’ll be okay. Asthma sucks.
Where do we go from here? As soon as my voice heals, I have trances to voice for both Spitfire and for the Collective.
I need to figure out what Spitfire and I need to do together so I can be her submissive, so I can show her my submission, so she can feel as if she is my dominant.
Wearing pink isn’t it, no matter how good she says I look in it.