A Week in Bed at My Master's

That's not a week in bed with my Master. In fact, there was no sex all week, because I was sick. I exaggerate when I say I spent the week in bed, but I can tell you I managed to consume two packages of chamomile tea, quite a bit of honey and several packages of store-bought chicken soup. What started as just a pesky cough became an exhausting cold.

That had a huge implication on my week with my Master, a relatively short stay this time. I did my best to still provide services, including laundry, a little cleaning, grocery shopping, and driving him around sometimes. But I wasn't very productive, and more importantly, I couldn't massage him, which is one of the main chores he likes to use me for. And sex. He's definitely not going to bareback me this time, and I'm not sure if he's even going to fuck me with a condom before I leave.

He's just especially careful about any infection—STIs, COVID or the common cold. He'll do everything not to get sick. Which meant that being sick was especially hard on me, because I had to wear a mask all week! Yes, not just when I was around him, but also when he was at work, so as not to contaminate the space too much. Serving as a slave comes with a critical responsibility not to make him sick.

On Friday I labored all day long over laundry for him, as it included his bed sheets and the entire apartment's curtains. My research efforts paid off, thanks to laundry-care advice from AI, so most of them came out without too many wrinkles. On my previous visits I had to iron all the curtains. That's probably my least favorite task. It's so tedious.

Last time I was here I was also sick for a part of my stay but on my present visit it’s lasting for the entire duration of my stay, which is a little shorter than usual. I know that's a disappointment to my Master but I don't take responsibility for the germs I catch. I didn't even have sex for a week before I arrived at my Master's place, so I may have gotten it from my hosts, as they were sick too. Otherwise I'm usually careful, often wearing a mask on public transportation and the plane, especially when it's ahead of meeting my Master.

Before I leave San Francisco on Monday, we'll have our traditional going away meal. He invites me to a meal upon arrival and before departure every time and those are the only times I'm allowed to look him in the eyes. I can speak a little more freely on those occasions, but it's still important for me not to forget my place. I expect that on that occasion he might say something about how this week was for him. But that's life, right?

I still served him in many ways and it was a sacrifice. By that I mean that if I were somewhere else, even with roommates, I'd have my own room, so I wouldn't have had to wear a mask 24/7 and I would be able to focus on myself and my recovery. Staying with him while I was sick was much harder than it was when I was in Gran Canaria at that shared apartment for nudists.

I'm considering whether I should travel in June-July. Choices are Gran Canaria, Vienna, or Berlin. I need to decide soon. Which reminds me I also have a chore to plan an itinerary for the days after our gay cruise in late July. There's so much to do in his service.

Time to wrap up. It's Friday night. I dropped off my Master and his friend at a bar in the Castro and went back to his place. I had dinner, did a little more work, and now I'm just finishing up this post and going to bed—so I'll be fresh enough when he wakes me up in a couple of hours to come pick him up.

Pathetic? Nah, I have an excuse. I'm sick. But, the truth is I don't go out much when I'm in San Francisco. Maybe it's because he keeps me quite busy with chores, so between that and my other commitments, I'm glad for those times when I can simply relax. And as an introvert—I recharge by having some me time. But, I'm planning to explore the topic of "being pathetic" in a dedicated blog post soon, so stay tuned!

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