She nipped it in the bud - ha!

I'm sick. Again, and well, still. I haven't really recovered the last months, and this weekend it hit with full force for the umpteenth time this spring. One of the symtoms is sinusitis, I can breathe through the nose ok, but I've lost my sense of smell and when I blow my nose, there's blood. And that's actually what I'm going to write about, blowing my nose...

Because Mistress said I was blowing my nose too hard. We were in the bathroom, she was in the shower, I was trying to stop that irritating itching at the back of my nose and we were discussing the bleeding and if I should call the doctors again (bleeeergh! Don't wanna!) and then she comments on me blowing my nose to hard, that she was afraid I was causing it to bleed. And suddenly I'm furious, and more or less growls at her: "I do not blow my nose too hard! We've talked about this! It just isn't so!"

I think that "we've talked about this" was somehow the worst bit. Or maybe my tone - I don't think I'm supposed to growl. Or glare. Whether I made things better or worse by stomping out without looking at her I don't really know, but that's what I did anyway.

I stomped into the bedroom and sat there sulking, feeling worse by the minute. Eventually, Mistress came in and stared at me. I stared back. And then I looked down. And cast a glance at her again, and she was still staring at me. Slowly, I was actually feeling a bit more embarrassed and aware of my own behaviour, and a little less obsessed about the complete ridiculousness of her commenting on the way I blow my nose. After en eternity or so, I glanced up again and mumbled "sorry...".

She grabbed my ear between thumb and forefinger and started to ask questions; "who do you belong to?", "who controls you?", "who is it that makes the decisions around her?". My part of the conversations was restricted to mumbling "you do, Mistress" and eventually I asked humbly for forgiveness. She told me to put my hand out, I did, and she slapped me lightly with her own hand three time, and then forgave me.

And I thanked her, a lot. I didn't say it out loud, because I didn't have to, we both knew I thanked her for this time remembering that I am her little slut. Even when my behaviour is atrocious. I belong to her, even when at first glance I seem to act the complete opposite. Usually, a situation like this would have been the prelude to a long, long, bitter fight, with both of us convinced the other one had withdrawn all love and affection and the power dynamic laying in broken heaps around us. This time, only one of us acted like an idiot (that would be me) and she choose to do something different. Something that worked.

She's my hero. She's my hero for so many different reasons, but being able and willing to change, to try new things, to see situations in different lights and figure out what works, is one of the bravest of all the many brave things she does every day. Now I'll try to be even half as brave, and everything will work out just fine.