I feel a little crappy today about something that happened last night, and even though I’m certain that Madam P has already forgotten about it (because she loves me so much), I feel that I need to post a confession here. I’m not sure that this entry will be approved by Madam to post publically, but I’m still going to write it and post it as private so that Madam receives this apology.
I got a little bossy with Madam last night. Bossy, bratty, cranky, crabby, it all amounts to the same thing; I argued with Madam even though I’ve agreed to obey her. I take my agreements to Madam very seriously… I’m just happier that way.
Madam is very easy on me. She’s gentle and loving in her domination over her slave girl. Even though Madam has grown to love exercising her power over her slave, the act of training her spouse to serve as her slave girl is not a powerful calling in Madam’s heart, not like submission and service is a powerful calling in my heart. I believe that the reason Madam has come to love training her slave girl/wife so much has more to do with how much Madam enjoys the end results of training. Madam has grown attached to how slave training has changed my personality. I’ve become happy and content. I’m more consistently and demonstratively loving and respectful, and I am no longer allowed to have dark, mopey moods that last for hours or days. I don’t tease so much anymore (Madam use to hate the way I’d tease her all the time.) I’m openly adoring. I pamper and dote on Madam at every opportunity, sometimes on demand, and sometimes on my own initiative. And best of all, Madam has absolute power to stop any disagreement or argument before it even has a chance to get started. Ever since Madam P and I signed our power exchange contract, the love and harmony in our home has been overwhelming and beautiful! All that love and harmony bubbling over in our home is, I believe, the source of Madam’s growing love of training her wife to serve as her slave girl.
Last night I got bratty with Madam over the stupidest thing. Madam brought home 3 sweet, delicious tangerines yesterday. I love tangerines when they’re really sweet and juicy, especially if the skins come off super easy. I asked Madam why she only bought 3 of them. Madam didn’t want to load up on expensive fruit only to have it go bad. I tried to assure Madam that, as much as I love super sweet easy to peel tangerines, there’s no way they’ll go bad in our house. Madam was skeptical. Well, I didn’t want to argue about it, I just wanted more tangerines. I insisted. I became bossy. Madam, realizing what was going on, told me point blank, “This conversation is over.” Madam gave me a direct order. There was a pause. In my mind I weighed the passion of my argument against the risk of disobeying Madam’s command. I pushed Madam a little further. I know I came dangerously close to some form of punishment, being put in the cage, handcuffed in the dark, a spanking, having my hair pulled harder than I like, something… but I had a feeling that Madam wasn’t quite to the point of harsh punishment yet. I had the feeling that Madam was weighing in her mind how harsh to be with me versus interfering with our pleasant evening activities. Madam came to me and started poking me in my butt where I’m bruised from last weekend’s caning; she was letting me know that she was dead serious, that I needed to stop arguing NOW! I pushed my argument just a little further. Madam gave me a look that told me that one more word was going to land me in the cage for the rest of the night, so I finally shut my mouth.
Fortunately, soon after this unfortunate exchange with Madam, it was Madam’s bedtime, which meant that it was time for me to perform my bedtime service ritual. I warmed Madam’s heat pack, turned down the bed, and slid the warmed up heat pack under the covers, I undressed and waited on my knees beside the bed for Madam to come in. Soon Madam entered the bedroom and allowed me to undress her as I do every night; I was then allowed to worship at Madam’s feet as I do each night, kissing and licking Madam’s feet in gratitude for being allowed so much time to work at perfecting my art. After that I was allowed to brush Madam’s beautiful red hair and scratch her back as I do each night. Then I tucked Madam into bed and crawled under the covers to cuddle her until she fell asleep.
I’m grateful that Madam chose not to punish me harshly for talking back and arguing with her last night. I’m grateful that she didn’t just let me get away with it either. I’m grateful that Madam is always so fair and just. I’m grateful that my bedtime ritual of pampering and spoiling Madam came so soon after my bad behavior; serving Madam helped me to remember my place in her household… and especially reminded me of Madam’s power over me and how lenient she is with me because she loves me so much.
I’m honored to serve Madam P. I feel bad that I turned bratty on her last night. I’m sorry that I put Madam into a position of having to balance punishing me against maintaining the harmony of her loving household. I want to openly apologize to Madam here and now, and I want to renew my promise to obey Madam’s commands to the best of my ability as I agreed to. I promise to try harder to be less argumentative. If in the future I feel so strongly about something that I’m asking Madam for that Madam disagrees with, I promise that I will make every effort to remember to assume a begging posture, as befits my place in Madam’s home. I will make every effort to make any passionate appeals from my assumed position of Madam’s property, begging for what I really, really want rather than hurling demands at Madam. Most of all, I promise to rededicate myself to honoring my fifth agreement in the contract I willfully entered with Madam: “I agree to inform Madam of wants and perceived needs, recognizing that She is the sole judge of what it is that I need or how these desires shall be satisfied.”
Missy
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