Safeword

The following day we did some normal errands. We went grocery shopping, picked up some stuff, rented videos, etc. The entire time, the misses constantly called me Master. My ego felt good, my dick hard and my imagination pumped into overtime.

"What do you think of this, Master?"
"Sir, I would like to get some ice cream."
"Please Master?"
"Yes Master!"
We spent the afternoon getting things cleaned up and generally lazed about. By evening she was on my lap spoon feeding her Master some ice cream. I could finally take no more of this slaves teasing and promptly grabbed her and dragged her willingly to the bedroom. Tossing her on the bed, I pulled her pants off and started rubbing her cheeks.
A few smacks later, she and I were good and warmed up. She had settled into the bed, laying on her stomach ready for some more attention. I had other ideas. remembering how she had reacted to the vibrator on her clit, I commanded her to get her vibrator form the box and bring it back to me on the bed.
She groaned. "You get it." She said.
I gave her another light smack on her ass. "Slave!" I growled. "I asked you to get it."
She dug in. "You get it."
I thought this was her testing my authority. In hindsite, I think she was just satisfied with my attention and was comfortable and didn't want to stop the session, get up and get the vibrator and then try to start again. For me, she had disobeyed a direct order. I told her so. Her attitude changed. I didn't notice it. She now had gotten stubborn.

We both have a standing arguement that the other person is the most stubborn person we have ever met. She thinks I am, but I know she's wrong, because no matter how stubborn I am, she's ten times worse.

"Well, I'll have to punish my slave, if you refuse to get the vibrator."
I wacked her a little harder.
"Ohhhh, so scared!" She taunted.
I picked up the pace and started to use a little more force.
I paused after the fourth blow to her ass.
"Is that all you got?" She again taunted me.
"I used more forced. My hand cracked with the sharp blows to her cheeks.
Two more blows, and she was quiet.
"That hurt." She said. There was no amusement in her voice.
She curled up and away from me.
The signals were all wrong, the body language was all wrong. I new right away what a mistake I had made. I hadn't read the signals.
Worst of all was that I had hurt her. After our very first bondage session, where I did the tortoise shell on her, in the afterglow of that scene, she had confided in me that she had went along with ALL of this, was that she trusted me. TRUST. I wouldn't harm her. I wouldn't cause harm to her. She would always be safe with me. I had just thrown all of that trust out of the window. Flushed it down the crapper. I had failed her. I had failed myself.
The salesman in me tried to speak and make things right. Gibberish spewing out of an idiot.
All day long we had performed our roles. She the slave, me the Master. She had called me that all day long. But was "Master" just a pet name to her? Like "Lovey", "Boo-Boo", "Sexy thing"?
Master is not a pet name. My dick does not get hard when she calls me "Boo-Boo". My dick gets hard because the word Master is a statement. I call her slave as a term of endearment, but it is used to underlie the fact that that is what she is at that moment. I have identified her as slave in my mind and that is how I'm treating her and how I expect her to act. It is a verbal que for how to act and play. That is what I expected of her when she called me Master. Call me my name, and I know we aren't playing. Call me Master, then don't expect me to let her dictate what to do.

Mixed signals, miscommunication. Hey we're learning here! I managed to calm her down, and I realized that this was when a safeword would have come in handy. We discussed this, and both agreed that she should choose a safeword so that when our signals are crossed we can end the scene immeadiately, without hurt feelings, without explanation.

Onions.

That's what she chose, that what I will honor. This seemed to content her. It was a long day, and she curled up and faded to sleep. I went to my study. I wish I could have been content as well. But I wasn't. I blamed myself. A heap of emotions flooded me. Worst of all was the feeling of failure. After that was the feeling that with that last scene, I had killed a new relationship between us before it had a chance to really start.

The following week, nothing. I was tentative, she was distant. She didn't say the word Master. I didn't call her slave.