The Stars Look Very Different Today

Inside the coffee shop where mouse sits staring at the flashing cursor of doom and wondering what to say or to write about.  It's been many months since mouse last even wanted or felt the need to open these pages, let alone post anything. Part of it was likely a way to pretend all was well, when in fact nothing was going as we had hoped.  In summer we were full of optimism, but that's been replaced with dread and wondering if this was actually a huge mistake.  

Was David Bowie actually holding the fabric of our universe together?  2016 has not been a good year for many people (aging musicians and elections aside) and we have to include ourselves in that. Was it hubris that made us set aside the crappy beginnings of the year and exclaim to the void, "what could possibly go wrong?"  

We were just asking for a universe smackdown.  

Since late summer, Daddy has only visited us a handful of times and the one time where mouse was completely determined to surprise him over the recent Thanksgiving holiday was nothing short of pure disaster mouse style.  It began with the red exclamation point indicating that a text message didn't go through and went from bad to worse within a few short hours.  Daddy was frantic with worry and concern, and mouse was too busy listening to music and singing badly to notice.  

To suggest he was angry is an understatement, to suggest he was royally pissed, might be closer.  Have you ever screwed something up so badly that they can't speak?  Not a word.  He would open his mouth, as if to say something but no words came out.  Nothing.  it is often written that a Dominant type shouldn't ever punish their slave while they're angry.  Daddy was so pissed he couldn't speak.  For a day.  Right after the holiday he sent mouse back home.  He didn't kiss her goodbye.  

It was soul crushing to mouse and hurt more than the worst possible punishment he could ever have dealt out.  

Then on Tuesday or was it Wednesday he phoned saying he was coming this weekend.  The rest of the week was. a blur as mouse cleaned and made sure everything was in order for him. Part of her was terrified that everything was over.  In all our years she'd never seen him that angry.  Close but never so that he'd go that long without saying much of anything.

On Friday ahead of his arrival, mouse worked hard, cooking and cleaning so that everything would be perfect for when he came home.  Looking back, almost in an absentminded way, mouse couldn't stop pondering if he felt this was even his home at all.  Was this home? Or simply a place to crash and forget the troubles?

He arrived to welcomed fanfare, horns tooted, dogs howled and children cheered, the roast was excellent and the sides divine he proclaimed.  After, stories were read, dogs walked, and Frozen was endured for the 1,759,348th time, the house was quiet and we were alone at last.  Somehow we had to climb the chasm between us, and meet in the middle.  Holding her breath, mouse asked, "Was your drive ok, Sir?"  a leading question that led to a short discussion about traffic and road rage.  Followed by the uncomfortable silence.

What could be said?  How many times can you express remorse over something you didn't mean to do and if you could do again, you certainly wouldn't?  At that moment her stomach lurched and she bolted to the bathroom.  "Crap did I give him food poisoning?" mouse wondered as she crouched beside the toilet.  His hands were on her neck, moving her hair out of the way. No, it wasn't nausea or food poisoning, it was just the stress finally coming out -- it just came out with dinner.

Daddy held her soothing her hair and telling her to hush.  That wasn't what mouse wanted.  Not his sympathy.  This wasn't planned so that he'd feel sorry for her and become all Daddy like, even though she felt so wonderful in his arms and his smell was...Daddy.  He asked if she could move, and if we could finally talk.  We needed to, and in the end it wasn't terrible, our love wasn't shattered by stupidity, it was cracked a little and found to be brittle.

In all that's been going on mouse was part of it, but removed from it by distance.  Myopically and selfishly mouse assumed he was angry with her.  He was overwrought by the entirety of the situation that he hasn't any control over.  He's been watching a family member he loves dearly slowly die in the most inhumane way possible.  Cancer sucks.  On an intellectual level mouse gets it sucks, but she hasn't been there with him daily as he's been grappling with this.  Being there for someone isn't the same as being with them.  Of course, mouse has been there for him, offered anything and even sent food overnight to him.  When she mentioned for the hundreth time maybe we should just move back, he unwavering said no.  The problem was temporary and we would get through it.

We had to get through this but together as the force of nature he knows we can be.  Was he angry with mouse?  Yes and no.  He was worried when he hadn't heard from her and didn't think she had decided to leave a day ahead of schedule but understood why she wanted to.  The failed text message but he understood technology is relied on far too much.  He apologized for not explaining all this at the time, but found he just couldn't speak at all, if the words started he was afraid they wouldn't stop.  His anger was completely displaced.  He's angry at the situation, not at mouse specifically although she didn't help.

Punishment will happen, but not today or tomorrow but put off indefinitely.  He said there are lots of demerits mouse will eventually have to pay a hefty penalty for.  The masochist inside mouse caused her pussy to clench.  Yes, the idea of punishment excited her, well not the punishment part but what always follows it.  That feeling of being new again.

Saturday morning mouse woke feeling Daddy's body pressed against her own, our legs intwined in that familiar way and feeling deeply connected in a way we haven't felt in summer.  Later, after breakfast and walk into town, he took some boxes down and had mouse decorate the house for the holidays. Daddy hung lights outside in the bushes and down the walk.  He promised he'd be back in three weeks, but wanted to be sure we had the nicest Christmas tree ever first.  Hope the black-thumbed mouse can keep it alive.  That evening we looked at the twinkle lights on the tree and talked of pleasant things.  Much later we again wrapped ourselves up in each others arms.  He didn't push mouse backward or take her from behind, but held her close, impaling her on his cock as she rode him slowly.  It was a wonderful ride.

On Sunday we had to leave the safety of the bubble of love we created the past couple nights.  Daddy called or texted from the road when he had the chance.  At first joking about random observations  and funny things but as he approached the destination,  mouse could hear the stress in his voice as he clocked the miles.  He wasn't going home, because he said almost correcting more than reminding her that's where mouse is.  He was simply returning to a reality he didn't want.  Work is a respite but the nights he's mentioned more than once are lonely and long.  There isn't much else to say or explain. Things don't always go as planned.

There will be a followup to this post at a later date.