Delicious in more ways than one, apparently.

Around 2:30PM yesterday my drain rod arrived, and by 3PM, I was gloves on and outside with the drain cover lifted. It occurs to me to wonder in that moment why anyone would use a drain screw anti-clockwise? The barbs on the screw simply don’t lend themselves to that direction. 

Some people baffle me.

I worked tentatively, careful not to apply too much pressure (hard to believe, I can do as I’m told) and only screw clockwise, as is now stating the freakin’ obvious to me. I use a push-twist-pull motion, pulling out small bits of debris as they want to come out, rather than trying to clear the blockage in one go. All sorts of pieces come out: pieces of plastic bag, pieces of roofing felt, a broken pipe clip (I think), pieces of glass.. 

Decided that I was sure I’d cleared enough of the drain for the water to flow once more, I put the put the cover back. I have no idea whether my work was sufficient until our next bout of heavy rain, but hopefully it was. 

My biggest relief, perhaps, was that Mr C didn’t come out and join me. Our friendship has changed now, whether Mum wanted it to or not. I have no time for him anymore: I have no time for people who let people in need down. 

Last night started with great intentions but ended with bitter disappointment once again. Master knew that I was preparing for the evening ahead, knew that I had tidied the bedroom and made things orderly for us. Yet he didn’t finish work until 6PM, and having missed his first bus, he wasn’t on his way home until closer to 7. By the time we’d tired out the dog and eaten food, it was closer to 10. By 11, Master – by now exhausted from the day – was dozing off on the sofa.

While he waited for his bus, Master sent me a gorgeous sunset photo from over Bristol docks. Unfortunately he’d taken it as a portrait photo, cropping out much of the view. 

Little tip: landscape mode for landscapes x, I replied. Master told me that “no one likes a smart arse”. 

Technically you’re wrong -Sadists and masochists like a smart(ing) arse x

I’ll remember that x, came the reply.

I hope you do 😉 x, I responded. 

I opted for my blue lace-trimmed nightdress again – with nothing underneath like last time – owing to its popularity. It seems a little odd to wear nightwear to the dinner table but it’s convenient for me, and Master doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

No sooner than I’d exited the bedroom in my attire for the evening, Master refers to me as “Snack”. Every damn time. 

To recap, “Snack” is Master’s seemingly favourite nickname for me, as in, “my favourite snack”, as “my favourite thing to eat”.

My pussy. That’s his favourite snack. That’s his “favourite thing to eat”. When I thought about it, I couldn’t think of a single past partner who hadn’t enjoyed going down on me – even Mr C has let me know of his love for going down on women.

If we’re continuing with slave Shae’s theme of objectification here then “Snack”, however appropriate, is very objectifying for me.

I tried Sir JGood for even a shred of empathy, but he spares none of it for me. Instead he proposes “Snackalicious” as a new nickname for me. Master likes that one. 

I sit on the bed, huddling my knees to my chest. My fate feels sealed, my future certain. I am to be… consumed.

I think of Shae in this moment, of our sisterhood (in submission). Shae and I live distinctively different lives, with different Dominants and different Dominant styles, yet in this, we are united. In their objectification of us we find our common ground, and we submissives feel an empathy for one another. Whether we are whipped or devoured, we suffer for them, by choice.

Not that we would want them to stop in spite of our protests, because just as Shae says, we submissives are weird. We like the mental state of powerlessness that our Dominants put us into. Hence, submissive. 

I know that there was a time of day when I almost took for granted not being made to suck cocks like Shae is – I’m not against giving blowjobs, it’s just not my preferred submissive style. I have so many other attributes to be enjoyed, as Master Levi and Sir JGood well know, that reducing me to a giver of blowjobs would be to undermine my submissive potential. There are so many other things I’m good at, so many other skills that a Dominant can utilise and enjoy. 

So then, when they reduce me to that of a “Snack”, there’s a heavy sigh. I have so many OTHER things I can do, so many OTHER things I have to offer, and all they really want is for me to sit on their face? 

There is a kind of surrender perhaps, an admittance of defeat: Shae is the known giver of blowjobs and now I, it surely seems, am now the “Snack” who gets consumed. 

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