Friday, September 20, 2013

What does mean mean?

I woke up around 3 this morning.  While I was trying to go back to sleep I replayed some recent things Mistress has said to me.

Last night after dinner Mistress mentioned that the day she had me wear the camisole, she had originally intended me to wear panyhose or tights under my pants.  Her concern was that it was too hot that day and it would be mean.  Earlier this week she mentioned she had intended for me to re-do the nail polish on my toes, but thought it would be mean if I couldn't wear flip flops this weekend.  Last week Mistress called "safe" before I did.  I am guessing there are few more things she has thought about making me do but considers it "mean".

Now I am very lucky to have someone that wants the best for me and doesn't want to see me hurt.  In most cases that is a good thing.  The problem is I am wired a little bit differently than most.  I have also created some of her caution by being wishy-washy early on in our relationship.

Now she's right, it would have been very hot to be wearing stockings that day.  I might of even wished she didn't make me do it.  However I know deep down I would have loved it.  It likely would have been my edging material for the next day.  Same goes for the nail polish.  Me wearing flip flops takes a backseat to her wishes.  Flip flops are bad for my cracked heels anyhow.

That being said, I think I know a workaround as well as a way for Mistress to get her confidence back as far as being meaner to me.  Let's tae Tuesday as an example.  She wanted me to wear stockings but reconsidered and had me wear a camisole.  If as part of that task she said "either wear stockings or a camisole today" I could then choose.  Looking back I likely would have worn both.  Ultimately I don't want to have the choice.  I want her to make me do what she wants me to do.

I obviously have limits, but what I find to be the biggest turn on in the world is bumping up against my limits.  Going up to the edge and flirting with my limits is where the magic happens.  The edge of pain.  The edge of humiliation.  The edge of something disgusting.  The edge of breathing.  The edge of discomfort.  The edge of being outed.  The edge of cumming.  The edge of my insecurity.  These things are all meant to be pushed.

I'm sure Mistress is afraid of pushing me too far.  There is nothing to worry about.  Small steps and communication will allow her to be mean in the way I need without being mean overall.

I haven't had time to edge yet, but when I do this is what I am going to edge to.  Some people might consider it mean.

We have a bunch of weeds in our yard that need to be picked.  My edging will be me fantasizing about Mistress picking out my clothes for a day in the back yard.  I imagine my work boots and shorts of some sort.  I also imagine my legs being shackled as well as my wrists with a steel collar around my neck.  Mistress would be sitting on the patio reading magazines or surfing porn.  She would be playing with herself while watching me work.  After I was done with the weeds she would inspect my work, and point out weeds I missed.  I would then be taken in for a punishment for missing the weeds.

I should be careful what I wish for, but I can't.

Side Note.  Sunday marks one year of me keeping track of orgasms.  Here are the stats.

40 Total Orgasms
4  Ruined
3 By my own hand - with permission

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