He told me that I am not allowed to masturbate and cum without permission. Or even to touch myself. This is my punishment. Or at least it's part of a punishment. There might be more. I'm not sure.
I don't know how long the punishment lasts. Some minimum period of time. Some unstated minimum period of time. But maybe longer. If he wants it longer. If he thinks that I have not responded well to his punishment. And of course he decides.
I am allowed to ask to masturbate during this time. In fact I am encouraged to do so. And I've asked a couple of times. But so far he has said no. But he does like to hear me ask. He likes that idea that he has taken something I really want. And as I get less sexual with no sexuality in my life he likes to wind me up again every so often. Just to make sure I really miss it. Just to make sure the punishment hurts. I think it's about time for him to do that again if he wants me sexual. Cause I am not feeling it right now.
Last night he sent me a message telling me that I could masturbate (and cum too!) during a window of time. That sounds nice of him doesn't it? Except that he was pretty sure I wouldn't even see the message until after the window of time was up. And he knew I had dinner guests so he was pretty sure I wouldn't take advantage of the offer if I got it. So really he was just fucking with me. In his opinion it would have been better if I had actually known the offer was there, and just couldn't bring myself to take advantage of it. But I didn't know it was on the table til it was off again.
*********************In other news I have done something to mess up my back. I was sitting on the couch at the time on Saturday morning. Not running, or doing yoga or lifting or anything. Just sitting. And it's killing me still.
I think, from my Internet research that it was a muscle spasm in my back, which got worse and worse until Saturday night when I crawled out of bed almost paralyzed by it. I couldn't roll over and was in enormous pain. I spent that night sleeping (sort of) on my bedroom floor.
And I have had cold on it since then which made it better for a while.
I am going to the doctor this afternoon in the hopes that she will give me drugs.
I'm tired of it, and it's making me blue.
It's Passover and there's too much food, following a period of too much cleaning.
The cleaning always makes me aware of the patriarchal roots of Judaism. As Passover starts the woman has cleaned her house, top to bottom, with a focus on the kitchen. She swaps new dishes and cutlery and pots for old. She scrubs counters and cleans out the oven and the fridge. She throws out all the old food and buys new food, special kosher for passover food. She prepares a holiday meal to special rules.
And then there's a ceremony where the husband and kids go around the house looking for crumbs to see if she has missed any. If she has they sweep them into a bag and burn the bag. Note that they don't help. The just check up on her.
In my house they do help, but they think of it as helping. They think it's my job but they help me.
And the ceremony really is ceremonial, as I hide pieces of bread for them to find and sweep into the bag. Big pieces so they don't look too closely for crumbs. Which they would definitely find. And guess what? I didn't clean out the oven this year. I don't usually. Though I have done so in years gone by.
I don't really mind the cleaning. I rationalize that a really thorough cleaning at least once a year is a good thing. And this puts a deadline on it. So it's just spring cleaning with a little twist. But it bugs my ass that they think they are doing me a favour by "helping".
Wouldn't you think that with all the cleaning and stress and back pain, it would be a nice thing in my life if I was at least allowed to masturbate? Yeah. Me too.
And of course, I keep dicking with my blog layout. I think it's my only creative outlet these days. Is it making you crazy?