A day at the beach

Once again the plan was to go walkies... we both looked at each other and the weather and went meh. So clutching morning mouse one scampered back to bed with only moderate amounts of guilt. Remerging a much better person... read caffeinated to within normal parameters... one noticed that the sun was shining and the idea of breakfast was appealing. Seeing as we had to go grocery shopping anyway, we decided to park at one of the beaches, go for a walk to breakfast and then go back to pick up the car before heading off to the hell that is grocery shopping.

There were other plans of course... which we really shouldn't do because the universe always conspires against them... but we will return to those much later.

So off we set and the second thing that you come to on this route is a perennial favourite. If only because sometimes nature conspires to have a warped sense of humour. The building in the distance is the Redcliffe Surf Life Saving Clubhouse. Now as you can see from the pictures there is only one thing missing at this spot... that's right surf. See according to the maps we should have corking surf here... if it weren't for the small matter of Moreton Island just off the coast. What we have is... well it's more like a mill pond and one has always wondered what happens to those guys when they go to surf meets. Where are you from? Red...cough, cough. Oh! Followed by a keen look of sympathy. It's not that they don't save lives... where there is water there is always some dick looking to drown... but surf is pushing the boundaries a little as a descriptive term.

From there you wander past another couple of interesting features. One is this fabulous natural amphitheatre that was utilised to create a wonderful backdrop to a stage. Being flat they also multipurposed the area as a basket ball court. Culture meets sport... guess which one won that round? To our knowledge the stage hasn't been utilised in the last 20 years which is a shame. He of course thinks it would make a fabulous backdrop for a bondage shoot... good luck with that one. 

Then you wander round to the Lagoon. Which is a natural thing to build when you don't have a surf beach.  In summer this place is packed morning, noon and night. Unlike the beach which most of us only walk along... humans are perverse creatures at best.

In fact the only things that seems to make use of the natural wonders of this place are these cheeky little sods...

After stuffing ourselves with some very tasty omelettes we wandered back to the car. As we drove past the shopping centre one spied the little friend and realised it was Tuesday, and we were supposed to meet up for a standing coffee date. Launching out of the car, one ran back to see her and apologised profusely. Then she got a call from spiffy glasses girl and we wandered off to meet up in the coffee shop, where one caught up with the couple who run the landscaping yard where one worked. Finding Him wandering around in the supermarket we all congregated for coffee and found that spiffy had left her gym gear on the bus... accidently she swears.

We decided to visit Venus at her fabulous shop where we spent a fun time shoving one small slave into outrageous costumes of peacock feathers and beads, trying on corsets and playing with electricity. 'Cos the universe hates one small slave... so of course He managed to find something small and zappy. Do you want to know the difference between some people...

One small slave is holding the implement of torture... He turns it up... one small slave lets go muttering obscenities and numb to the elbow. Spiffy glasses girl holds it... He turns it up... she is holding on... going a delicate shade of flushed... and screaming bring it. Personally one thinks that toy will be smuggled to work and  given a new home... 

By the time people had been loaded into buses for their return trip home, the grocery shopping had been done and we were back home with it unpacked we were knackered. Instead of the afternoon of bondage and sexual torture we settled for an extremely good roast lamb dinner and a movie. People wonder how you keep real life from encroaching into your O/p M/s life? You don't. Sometime though the twists and turns are just as much fun and sometimes you meet people who really get your kinks... sick and twisted though they may be J


Just wanted to add for the less geeky... if you click on a picture you will get the full sized version

Lethargy and gluttony

Some days start very well... intent wise at any rate... and today was a good example. The intent was to goes walkies, do a little laundry, eat breakfast, go to the gym, have lunch and fool around a little. When we woke up it was pissing down with rain... there went walkies and laundry. We did manage to go to the gym, pick up lunch and make it home via the sea food markets for oysters. By which time the weather had turned beautiful... too late to do laundry of course.

By the time we got home and had lunch it was mid afternoon, and we were over the enthusiasm of the morning. Though He did manage to catch one in the shower for a little quick anal. We ended up in bed, scrubbed squeaky clean, watching a show that redefines the very definition of food porn. A show so embellished with saturated fats that the arteries grow hard while you watch it.

Our dirty little secret is Man vs Food. A program that showcases food that will never be found on our fair shores. In a land that is multicultural we have many nations. Unfortunately most of them seem to come from warmer parts of the world where the food is often healthier. We have Sushi Trains galore, but you can't find a hamburger redolent in grease and flavour if your life depended on it... and McDonalds barely counts as food let alone tasty.

So we sat there, eating an entree of fresh oysters and our garlic prawns on a bed of steamed rice and vegetables, marvelling at the capacity to consume that much grease in one sitting. We are utterly gobsmacked at the size of the portions too for that matter. Honestly it is a miracle you lot aren't dead from consuming meals that big... let us not get into the food itself.

He of course being ever practical, remarks that we could just get rid of the oven and install a hot plate and deep fryer. Judging by the whimpering noises that emerge periodically from the back of his throat, one suspects that He isn't actually joking. And He keeps glancing over hopefully to see if the idea is taking root... To which one can only smile and respectfully tell him dude that is so not going to happen.

Mind you the sight of all that grease is mesmerising and so terribly alluring... and the idea of smashing your seafood at your table seems like a lot of fun... and does pie actually come in that many flavours... and, if there are actually any Americans still out there alive, can you send us some of the Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch. Oh wait, maybe that was another show...

Picture this

Traveling home on the bus one small slave flicked open the phone to see that He had joined a new group on Fet. Immediately the little hairs on the body became erect.  Then one saw that He had made a comment... something He rarely does... and the arse clenched automatically. Anyone who has ever experienced an emotional response probably recognises those signs. Fear... plain and simple.

The cause of this response you may be asking yourself? There He is calmly discussing the possibilities of electrifying an Njoy. With people on the friends list that are now under review. Why? Well they are not acting in one's best interest nor are they exhibiting any of that loyalty stuff. For that matter neither is He.

See He is supposed to act in one's best interest and not do things that destroy whatever remaining vestiges of trust one has. It says so, constantly and repetitiously, on any forum on Fet. And some of those people have cred in their communities. Nods so it must be twoo.

And for the record:

Helping one get over a near pathological fear of zappy shit is not in one's best interest.

Offers of bags, brown or otherwise, do not mitigate your helping Him.

A Tens Machine is not necessary to ease sore muscles nor does one wish to go shopping for one tomorrow or any other day.

So to all you helpful bitches... just don't help. Don't want it. Don't need it. More importantly will not forgive it... and one has a very loooong memory. 

Extensions of fidelity

A reply one wrote for the group on Fet engendered the rather odd remark that He has limited one as a person. While it was probably not the persons aim to come across quite that literally... hey giving them the benefit of the doubt here... it did spark a couple of thoughts.

When you look at that time He has been in charge, one would have to say that He has done a good job. Rather than limiting one He has made one expand, grow and embrace a better version of oneself. Gods know that left to one's own devices one would have settled into a comfortable middle age by now. And probably been quite miserable and discontent with one's self in the process might one add. Truthfully shoving someone in front of a camera soon makes them more inclined to scamper back to the gym, the hairdresser and reconsider the wardrobe J

He stops one settling and stagnating and he continually makes one confront the inner demons and re-evaluate them. Besides He is sharp enough mentally to make sure one scrambles to catch up. It stops complacency and there is a lot of evidence that the brain, like so many other parts of the body, will atrophy if not exercised and challenged. While He can't stop the aging process he sure has managed to slow it down.

Except for that damned hip... No amount of stretching seems to help this winter L

Sweet dreams

He slid in on those quiet feet and pounced as one lay there. Poking one in the arse He said there is something missing isn't there? No. Fingers probed deeper... humph... why didn't I get to put it in? Strangely enough it hurts less when you don't do it. There is no final jab for good measure to make sure the njoy is in.

He laughed and flipped one over. Spreading the legs out of the way, He pounced. Holding one firmly in place, He licked with quick, firm little strokes of that divine tongue driving one to a fast orgasm.

Slave... won J

Keeping score

Always one to keep things fresh in the relationship, He decided to combine the flogging with the fucking today. For the record He is much more careful with that damn thing when his body parts are involved.

Even though He did cum, one rather thinks the flogger won that round.

Shortly afterwards we were curled up masturbating together while He explored how sore the nipples were after yesterday. Not sore enough to prevent one from coming it seemed. Though He said no when one asked for permission.

Think He won that round.

He decided that it would be more fun to hoist ones legs around his shoulders so he could get a better angle for entry. Unfortunately while being fucked in that position, the hip decided to register a scream of protest at that kind of handling. To be honest one has no idea, and care even less, if He came... Yeah, yeah, bad slave...

Do know the hip won that round.

Then one had to hobble off for a shower before going to work...

Bringing the grand total for the morning to... slave... none.

This inequality stuff sucks L


Blogger is SNAFU... still

Retail therapy

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Today

We were a little kinder to each other

Did some exercise

Ate some junk food

Got around to watching "Inception"

As they say in the classics... we're working on it

Smoke and shattered mirrors

We have been together 14 years... or thereabouts... one of us keeps a better track of these things than the other one will ever be able to do. Like all couples we have a relationship language, a short hand that enables us to communicate complex ideas and emotions. What few we have... like most INTJ's we are a little short on the emotional stuff at times... well according to others at any rate. In our case sex is our means of communication. And while some consider that inadequate, for us it works just fine.

Except when we aren't having it. Then everything goes tits up. Fast... usually in under two days. Why? Well we get reduced to words and being INTJ we can use words the way others do stones. We don't mean to. It's just that without the sex to act as a buffer to our more abrasive characteristics... let's just say that it is brutal. And of course being solutions focused we are inclined to top it all off with a handy how to do it better guide for next time. Which doesn't help for the record.

So we are in our respective corners licking our wounds for the moment. No doubt we will get back to licking each other's tomorrow and all will be right in our world. See the advantage of 14 years is you have no doubt that there will be a tomorrow. Besides we know that if we were with anyone else they would kill us in our sleep J

Lies, damn lies and revisionist history

We all create our past in some way. Memory is an imperfect thing. Many of us do it without even realising. A good example is going through a photo album with a parent

"Oh look, there you are... you were cranky that day"

Now you may not remember that day at all, but before long you adopt their memories of the event as your own, and eventually you are sharing the picture with someone else and even embellishing the story.

This process is in sharp contrast to those who deliberately set out to obfuscate the truth. Those who deliberately set out to reconstruct events to make themselves look better. See the trouble with those ones, apart from the whole intent thing, is that they do not do it with the collusion of willing helpers. Quite the opposite in fact.

They put those of us who were there at the time in a difficult position. Do we stay silent and thereby complicit in their revisionist history or do we speak out? Does calling them on their shit make a whit of difference in the long run or does it just rally the troops to their cause? Does doing the right thing, which is a value judgement at best, actually change the inevitable outcome? Hell for that matter does knowing you have done the right thing offset the high level of grief that inevitably ensues?

Maybe some of us are too morally ambiguous to be faced with these questions L

More strangeness

Travelling by bus you see the strangest things. Things that would normally pass you by. The latest bit of stupidity seems to be equipping your vehicle with testicles... bless the Americans 'cos we can guess where this came from... more specifically blue ones.

Leaving one to ponder is this some strange acknowledgement of the fact that the vehicle is going to remain chaste or are you trying to indicate the state of your sex life to other motorists. You know... just in case. Perhaps as some have asserted, vehicles are indeed a penis extension and you like to emphasise this image.

Which of course makes one wonder why none of this sexual imagery, not to mention implied homo eroticism, occurred to you as you were squirming around beneath your vehicle attaching the damn things.

An observation

Waiting until one is fully dressed in work uniform and making one kneel before you is kinda hot.

A minty fresh mouth and cum is not.

Open wide

Sorry folks blogger is rearranging posts out of order this was last Wednesday :(

His hand snaked out to grab the collar and He dragged one over to his hard on.  Relinquishing his hold long enough to get a fistful of hair, He thrust into one's mouth. Down, down, down, He pushed. Not letting go for a second He thrust upwards. Finally as one neared the base of the shaft, with lips stretched wide to make a perfect seal, he came. Leaving one the option to swallow or choke with no air.

Afterwards one mused that a reflux muscle would be a handy thing. That and the ability to unhinge the jaw...

The cost

All requests around here are meant to be accompanied by some nudity. See He is susceptible to bribes. Just occasionally though the price is a tad excessive. For the record this is not a complaint... more a consumer observation.

See every once in a while He likes a sweetener. It is a test to see how much one really wants something... that or He is just sadistic. So as one is standing there topless, having made the request in a polite tone... OK it isn't always as polite as it could be, but sometimes it is urgent... and He sits there... Back to the sweetener...

He will smirk and say pinch your nipples. Harder... harder...now twist them. Really He is not happy until there are squeaks of protest from what one can work out.

This morning He asked how does that make you feel. At that moment one didn't have time to reply. So here you are...

Annoyed. It makes one feel annoyed. It pisses one to no end that you do this shit when one is in a rush and you are in the way. On the move here and you are an impediment. In fact one feels exactly the same way when someone drifts along and one is stuck behind them. An overwhelming urge to shove them out of the way and walk over their recumbent form. You are this close to death and dismemberment. And you do it deliberately... knowing full well how it makes one feel.

Well you asked...

Of course in hindsight it is kinda hot...

Reading is bad for you

We are laying in bed together and He asks what are you thinking? He asks that a lot and sometime He probably regrets it because the answer is a Tiki Tour of how the mind wanders around... and you need to take your passport. Other times one probably surprises him and occasionally He gets glimmerings of how living in this type of relationship forever changes how you think. This was probably one of those occasions...

Um was thinking about a blog Histora wrote the other day. Yes? Yes it was very sexual and erotic, but reading it all one could think was there are at least six things in that post one is expressly forbidden from doing to you. You're not supposed to read blogs and mentally list off the banned things are you? No, probably not He replied. Sighs it is a shame really... there were some mean fun things on that list...

Njoyment

Dinner and a movie

We finally got to see Thor and they didn't do too bad a job of it. Seriously the potential pitfalls were many and they did manage to sidestep most of them... and let's be honest Chris Hemsworth is kinda hot. If nothing else you could sit back and admire... yes that is a good word... all that hard work.

After that we toddled off for dinner where He plied one with way too much wine. Now alcohol has a strange effect on the body and none of it predictable which is one of the reasons why one doesn't drink much at all these days. Sometimes it will make one tipsy, sometimes there is an instant hangover, sometimes it leaves the head a clear as a bell and sometimes it just makes one feel detached. It settled on the latter... well that and peeing like a race horse all night.

Ever the opportunist He hustled one home, after one extra glass, and one was popped back on the table with the bowl so He could enjoy the view. See... told you one would be practising that pose again. This time the body was far more obliging. As one squatted there, pink lips spread open, a steady stream of pale urine gushed forth, splattering the edge of the bowl and the surrounding area. Hopping off the table one noted that pet mats are your friend, that or better aim.

Off you go to the shower He said in that solicitous tone. I'll clean up... which should have been a warning really. In the bathroom, while tucking hair into a shower cap, one reached out to turn on the tap. No need for that He cooed one step behind. Just hop in there and kneel down. As one complied He produced the bowl and poured the contents over one's kneeling form, so that is slid and dripped across breasts and in between thighs. Then He ordered one to masturbate while He splattered hot cum all over one as well.

Later He asked how was that? Well pee feels better when it is warm. And pet mats really are your friend. And one will probably never use the coffee table again... so it will always be clear. See it is all about reshaping your reality...

Over breakfast

A t-shirt emblazoned with...

"I'm pretty much

the best

person I know"

Leaving one to ponder... A statement of positivity or a scathing indictment of his friends?

Losing your lesbian card

Joking on the group about losing your lesbian card one made the comment that one couldn't get laid covered in shots with beer chasers. And the sad thing is in this town it is true... the sisterhood has a looong memory. It's the only way they can keep track of who they haven't slept with yet. And if you think that sounds catty, you haven't been in a room full of women who have slept with every other person at the party in the last 10-15 years.

When we separated she got all the friends in the divorce. Even the friends one had made at uni. Hell she even got the friends of more than 15 years, that dated back to one's murky past. Why? Well they were gay... some of them for the second time.

See when we separated it caused a lot of ripples. We were an active part of the gay community. Orphans day on Christmas, the annual pool party, fund raising type members. As one baby dyke said when she found out, this is like your parents getting divorced. See we had been together seven years (yeah such a cliché) which in lesbian years is like 15 in straight time.

Now the fact that the split was eventually amicable (Don't get one wrong... it was hard work in the beginning, but we had joint property and other ties so it was in our best interest to do so.) was irrelevant in the eyes of others. In one sexual act one has ceased to be a lesbian and the card was revoked. Access Denied.

The stupid thing is that in some ways one doesn't really identify as bisexual or straight and it left one in a sort of limbo. Historically though one slept with both genders, all the long term live in relationships were with women. Men are great for uncomplicated sex... they are just difficult to live with. Conversely women are better to live with, but hell in bed long term. You end up falling into the no sex syndrome, otherwise know as  lesbian bed death. 

Meh... who said sexual politics are simple?

Of course the silly thing was it brought us closer together as a couple. No distractions you see... no phone calls, no invites, no clubbing... nothing. Just silence. He was surprised and a little appalled at the response. Personally one was just pissed off. All those people one had supported, cared for, loved, dried tears for, counselled... gone. Fifteen years, in some cases, wiped out because one fell in love and had sex. With a man.

Kawabunga

The strange thing about getting older is that you don’t feel it. Oh you hurt more when you get up, but by and large (so long as you stay active) you don’t feel old. Until some cute young thing hops on the bus, dressed in black from hair to toe, sporting a wonderful bright Mutant Ninja Turtle bag. And you realise that it is probably the third incarnation of those turtles in your lifetime. How in gods name did that happen?

Mind you the bag is kinda cool...

Thursday

The balancing act

Coming out of the bathroom bearing the bowl, one stood in His study doorway and indicated the patch of tile that allows him a good view when one pees. He looked at it, shook his head and said no I think we will use the coffee table. The bad slave lip curled... having just finished folding laundry the table was covered in neatly folded stuff and the usual electronic paraphernalia... all of which would have to be moved... and none of which was going to get one peeing any sooner. In the wink of an eye it was whipped away... strange how domestic He can become under the right circumstances.

Hopping up onto the table, which is a solid piece of the ex's that He took a fancy to (there is that Scorpio planning in action), one positioned the bowl and carefully knelt over it. No, I think it would look better with you squatting. Adjusting the position one tried again and waited for his cue of satisfaction. He nodded and settled into the couch, masturbating while he watched. Squatting there one waited for the body to comply... and discovered that one couldn't actually pee in that position. Every once in a while one finds a position like that. It means one will be practising again in the near future... it gives Him a better view.

Shifting back to the original position the body complied and produced a stream of light golden pee. It splattered against the side of the bowl making a tinkling sound before pooling on the bottom. When finished one looked at Him for permission to get up. Stay there He said. Standing up, He took the step to where one was, balanced precariously over the bowl, and shoved his dick in one's mouth and came in a quick hot burst down one's throat. It seems that table is the perfect height. Now you can go He said. Leaving one to scramble off the table in a less than graceful manner.

In reply

This is going here though in truth it should be posted on Fet. The thing is if one does that every person with a gripe will find it and one will spend almost as much time defending it as one does the group. More probably... there aren't mods for journals. So it is going here... you lucky things you J Why? Well just sometimes it is nice to vent and that option isn't open on Fet until such a time as journals can be set to private or no comments allowed.

When we formed the group on Fet it was to create a haven for those of us in co-habiting relationships. We did it for the simple reason that it was impossible to find such a group on Fet, that wasn't overwhelmed by those in other types of arrangements. Most of us had ended up homeless when other boards were overrun by them, and we had been told in no uncertain terms that we were supposed to get along with them. Even if conversations were often rendered nigh on impossible due to philosophical differences. Fet gave us the opportunity to start our own corner for those in similar situations... well that was the idea.

The group was an uphill battle from day one. There were continual issues with the caretakers who thought we should all get along, there were issues with people who just don't see why their views were redundant to discussions, and there were issues with those that thought we should do X, Y or Z to appease their views. In the end we hashed out a definition of what we were, so we at least had something to point people at and go... this is why your views are unacceptable here.  Now the definition is still not perfect... it makes some feel that they are not welcome and still doesn't have enough teeth to discourage those that should feel that way. Those ones we usually have to resort to applying heat to, and even then they still persist in many cases.

In part these issues are why our group has caused more splitter groups than any other on Fet. And it is worth noting that most fail. Even when they get good numbers. The reason for this is simple. When someone stomps off to start their own group, they have no idea how much work is actually involved in keeping one running, particularly in the beginning. It takes a year or so of hard slog to get things to where people feel enough of an emotional investment, that they are prepared to stick their necks out and start things. And that caution is wise.

The group has cost personal friendships, it has alienated people, and it has upset people (often ones we had no real issue with). The group has resulted in threats, lies, intimidation and bad mouthing from one end of Fet to the other. Not to mention inboxes that are full of dreck, and sneering from the sidelines via journal entries and posts in other groups. All of this aggravation because we wanted a place to call our own and to chat (not continually defend or debate) about what was important to us.

That our group is successful is testimony to hours of bloody hard work. Ours and the members alike. It is damned hard week after week to think of new topics that will appeal to members. There are weeks there where we look at the blank page and know we are just tapped. Other days we just wonder why the hell we keep doing it. We persist because having a home is important to us... and we hope a useful resource to others who come to read and learn.

And you wonder why we don't want to change the groups parameters to include you? Well we have to a certain extent. When we started it was only meant for those in O/p relationships, but we realised that there were those of you who were nosing around the edge of the hole, who had no one to ask questions of. Basic stuff like are we going mad? So we included you, as best we could without losing too much of what we were, and in doing so many would argue that we have leant too far. It is a delicate balancing act that sometimes we slip on... yet we persist.

Then there are those who have no place being there at all, who want to be part of things and wonder why (usually all over other groups) we aren't kinder to them or close down their threads. The answer is very simple... if we don't erect some barriers we will lose what makes the group unique. What makes our group special is that it does have people who actually live together, or are working on it, and trying to make this work. The group is where we exchange ideas, learn things, incorporate new ideas and support each other in the knowledge that we are in similar boats.

If we do not draw the line we will end up with threads filled with people needing advice about something. See the sad fact is that we are old and grumpy and we feel no obligation to hold your hand while you figure out which way is up. There are groups all over Fet for that purpose... go join one of those. Even you will get to the stage where you groan a little on the inside as you read yet another debate on those topics.  

Now we try to welcome you, we try to start topics that you can add to and we try to support you as you find your way. What we will not do is change for you. And one day when you are in a 24/7 cohabiting relationship you will thank us... if we are still around. See the sad fact is some of us are tired... of the incessant whining and complaining and of being bad mouthed. And eventually we will go fuck it, enough is enough. Until then if you do not like the way things are, start your own group. 

One perfect day

Sitting at the main computer, luxuriating in morning mouse and catching up with what have you on Fet, while nursing the traces of the sinus headache that is ever present at this time of the year, there was a strange sense of tranquility. He was in the other room watching food porn and all was right with the world. It ended abruptly when He appeared in the doorway like an apparition. That's it, get dressed, I have the very definition of cabin fever and we are going out.

Peering at Him in a mixture of distress and disbelief one prevaricated with firstly one doesn't get paid until tonight and was utterly flat broke, and secondly one has a mad yen for sushi. Good so do I... I'll pay and you can do the next two meals. And with that He literally ran in the direction of the shower, leaving one looking mournfully at the now cold dregs of morning mouse and wondering if breakfast was going to be an option. It wasn't... it seems that sushi is quite suitable for the first meal of the day. Well for one of us... He'd had breakfast while watching the food porn.

So meandering around in a fog one tried to find something to wear that at least gave the appearance of trying... couldn't find the favourite lip liner... how do these things disappear... and generally pottered around dazed and confused. In between all of this the mask arrived... beautifully wrapped and lovely to behold... the cat wanted to be fed... it turned out the jeans one wanted to wear were in the wash... and the lip liner remains a complete mystery. It was sad to behold really L

Slipping into a car park one was hustled upstairs to the sushi where we watched dainty morsels of food trundle past on a train. Sitting there surrounded by all things Japanese, the slow steady pace of the train soothed away the sense of rush... well that or the woefully inadequate supply of caffeine kicked in. Either way by the end of the meal one was emotionally prepared to do some window shopping and fortified we meandered off, arms wrapped around each other.

We perused linen shops and book stores. He literally pushed one into a sound shop, despite a valiant attempt to make a break for it and head to Crocs. And one was made to stand there quietly while He looked for and then paid for Blu-Rays, before being allowed to scamper quickly into Crocs for a nose around all things bizarre in shoes... really wedge heeled crocs are just strange as an idea let's be honest.

Mooching around we looked at underwear and silly frilled things, some of which made it into the bag. He bought a wonderful umbrella (not that one will ever be allowed to take it out... given the unfortunate track record with loosing the things (it started with a bright yellow frilled one with a silver handle at the tender age of about 6 and has compounded ever since) it was a miracle it made it to the car. We bought a range of stockings to try as a last attempt before resorting to online suppliers, some rather interesting coloured pegs that could be a lot of fun... just not the way they were intended, and finally ended up at the French patisserie for decent coffee and a cherry almondine... five hours later.

It was a lovely day... it was nice to get out of the house and do something together. It was bliss to just spend time with each other, while we were both awake at the same time. It is days like this that make our crazy hours seem worthwhile. Mostly it was just wonderful to be with Him.

A special day

Now most you probably think of Mothers Day as a special day. Not in retail it isn't. We deal with those who exhibit their passive aggressive tendencies and unresolved anger towards their mothers. They come in, on their way to visit them, demanding item X that was in the catalogue... the one that started last week... and are surprised to find we are sold out. For the record there is no mysterious "out back" in our shop and yes, we are sure of this.

Better yet they come in asking for Y that is, and always has been, an exclusive of a certain department store, and are surprised that we can't do anything except advise them to travel 20 minutes down the road to that store. You don't want to go "all that way" for the woman that gave birth to you? Fine! Just don't linger in front of our perfume cabinets like we are going to magically make it appear from that mysterious "out back"... those companies pay for that exclusivity and guard it like an enraged mother bear.

Even the council has got in the act this year and has done something special for Mothers Day. They moved the barriers to the other side of the road. Now when we pass by, we scrape along the low hedges that fringe the edges of the cafés. From our lofty height we can peer onto the plates of celebratory meals as we go by. We can even see the look of unease in their eyes... justified unease given the skills of some of the drivers might one add.

So for those of you who are mothers, may you have a wonderful day of being plied with carefully burnt toast, tepid tea and lovingly slopped juice. All the while secure in the knowledge that there is probably a huge mess waiting for you when you leave the sanctuary of the bedroom. And may they not grow up to be like the thoughtless cunts one gets to meet.

Touched

We lay curled up on the bed watching TV. His hand makes periodic raids on one's breasts... groping, pinching and squeezing. It is a sensation that sets the teeth on edge and He know it. A hand reaches out and strokes the hair. Now that sensation one just loves. It is short lived... a finger reaches down to stroke the eyebrow the wrong way. It moves further, down the bridge of the nose tickling as it goes, and on to explore the tip of the nose which evokes a strong urge to sneeze.

It is a game He plays to get a response. And it usually gets one. No matter how many times He does it one cannot just lay there and take it. Soon there will be a physical retaliation and one will turn round and swat the offending hand. It never ends well and one always loses... yet it never changes the outcome. Poke, poke, poke... retaliate.  It sets the teeth on edge just thinking about it L

Bastard!

See touch is a strange thing. Humans do not do well without it... apparently. There are times though that one craves to be touched in a nice way. Round here it rarely happens. For a while there He used to hit whatever was conveniently to hand the minute one bent over. And it is scary how fast that man is on his feet. It wasn't hard or violent, yet after a while one still flinched when He came near.

Over time it made one skittish and hyper vigilant. And very reluctant to pick anything up. It was like the time one had pneumonia and the collapsed lung, and He tried to take advantage of it and ended up with a trained cough response... which is still there for the record. See the body has ideas about what is good touch and what isn't... and at this stage they don't seem to coincide with His at all.

A bride thing?

A customer came in looking for the perfect shade of nail polish. Not a word of a lie, she had spent nearly $60 on nail polish in the hunt for that shade. Now what was the object of her lust you may be wondering? A shade of nude that would blend in and make her nails disappear.

That's right disappear. Now she had beautiful nails so why she wanted them visually gone was fascinating. And being nosy one just had to ask why she was after that effect. It turned out she didn't want anything to distract from her bling on "The Day". Even she had the grace to look a little embarrassed when she said that, and hastily went on to explain, somewhat defensively, that brides tend to get a little obsessive before the day.

Smiling reassuringly, one said that that there were so many things that had the potential to go wrong on the day, that people were probably more inclined to focus on the things that they could control. Smiling in relief, mainly because one didn't think she belonged in the crazy corner, she agreed that was probably right. She said I have waited for that man for 15 years and I want the day to be perfect.

Which left one to ponder a few questions that one couldn't ask her...

Fifteen years... what the hell happened?

Had she been the other woman and he had a dying wife?

Was he particularly slippery on the commitment stakes?

Did one of their incredibly rich relatives disapprove of them, and they had to wait so as to not be disinherited?

Suddenly the bride to be was six shades of more interesting.

A fine line

Greeting Him kneeling at the door, partially naked due to the encroaching winter, did not elicit the usual gleam his eyes. What are those He asked, pointing to the pyjama bottoms. Um protection against the cold one replied hopefully. They need to be gone. But it's freezing, and they were allowed last year. Well not this one, was the unsympathetic reply. Why do people always have to mess with systems that work just fine? Oh right because they can L

Later stripping again before the box one pointed hopefully at the socks. He smiled and shook his head in a negative motion. Reluctantly one took them off and knelt waiting for the flogger. Think we will try one of the others He said in a jovial tone. Any sense of relief one was feeling quickly fled as He started his warm up shots on an exposed cunt. Gods one just hates being hit there, even playfully.

That course of IPL hair removal He had done was the most horrible thing ever. Every freaking month one was escorted to a cubicle to be hurt by a professional. The bitches lied... it didn't get any better with repeated treatments. Mind you one did discover that the families lack of baldness extends to that area as well. As a family we are not particularly hairy... we just like to keep what we have. Oh the hair fell out... it just grew back, without missing a beat. Speaking of which...

When finished, with one extra thrown in for good measure... it was the socks wasn't it?.... He grabbed one firmly and worked his way up to his balls in one's arse. Fortunately there was still lube in place from the butt plug. Which was just as well because just as we can never remember to put tissues in a convenient location, the same issue seems to occur with the lube.  Honestly after the sock incident one figured one's chances of saying just a minute and scampering to get the stuff was... well... not good.

Later after a good breakfast, we repaired to the bedroom for a little put Master to sleep sex. He was most gracious and allowed one to cum. And as one lay there writhing in ecstasy one made the critical error of curling up. It was at that moment that the stomach muscles, that had a little workout yesterday, announced their annoyance by erupting into screaming pain. Which kinda killed the buzz 'cos some pain is not sexy or sexual.

Realising that the endorphins had hit an all time low He decided to make a move. Turning one over onto the knees, He grabbed one firmly by the collar and drove back into one's arse. No lube, no endorphins, no getting out of the foetal position... it hurt. When one informed him of this later, after He had cum and one had thanked him politely, He smiled. As one pointed out tartly it was such an inappropriate response, and made one less inclined to reduce his sadistic tendencies rating. He laughed out loud. Sighs you know sometimes one suspects He is starting to enjoy this way too much.

Aches and pains

Yesterday and today one made it back to the gym. To do mind numbing things like walkies on the treadmill. Honestly one watches the people striding along, often for what seems like hours at a time and there one is... 10 minutes... check clock... oh yaaay, 10 minutes and 26 seconds. It doesn't get any better, however far into the torturous half hour one gets. Now why is one small slave self torturing like this you may be asking.... ah well that is a sad story.

As some of you know one spends a reasonable amount of time in the gym offsetting the side effects of PCOS. Now when you have that, to date the most effective weapons are a high protein diet with moderate carbs and exercise. Weight training is excellent as it doesn't upset the hormonal balance (what little there is) in the body, and fat burning exercise over heavy cardio training... in other words walking over running. The small complication is the weights need to be high rep work because the increased male hormones in the body mean that one can bulk up like a small gorilla, which is not the aim.

Unfortunately the high rep work means that in the course of a week one is lifting almost as much as some of the big boys. And the body decided to stage a small rebellion by developing tendonitis in the elbows and right wrist. Those little puppies lose flexibility as you age like everything else. Now normally you will start to get twinges before this and if you are smart you stop, change programs and do something else so it doesn't get to this stage. Of course with a high pain threshold the body didn't do that. Oh no, it went straight to can't lift the bloody cast iron frypan, let alone a weight in one smooth movement.

So here one is plodding away on a treadmill seething with boredom, with no endorphin rush to smooth things over at all. This is probably how most people feel when they have to go to the gym... a profound sense of dragging your arse there and hating every fucking minute of it. Even a bit of leg and ab work didn't help. Sighs you know one is starting to get glimmerings of why He always looks at one with a particular sense of loathing, as one scratches at the door to get going on gym mornings L

Stockings

In this country it is very hard to find stay up stocking that don't assume that you have the thigh of an anorexic teenager. There used to be a great company called Schiaparelli, but of course as all things great they were bought out by another company. Sara Lee, of all people. They went the way of the dodo toot sweet. Ambra came along and finally there we were in stocking nirvana. Until the last few batches.

The bastards have changed the tops, that or they all shrunk at the factory. And although it could be put down to the weights, the bottom line is that the thighs have actually got a bit smaller. A fact borne out by how high they are now sitting on the leg as evidenced in this photo.

What is it with these companies? The fact is that nothing feels sexier than a stocking, and one would put money on some of those wearers being more mature. And guess what? As we get more mature we lose the thighs of an anorexic teenager. Stockings that roll because they are to small at the top do not make a woman feel sexy, and they will not stay up despite the endeavours of the best garter belt in the world (which kinda defeats the purpose of a stay up anyway).

The thing is we might be losing our thighs, but you stocking companies are losing your customers.

Remakes

Most people think that all 24/7 relationships are high protocol and that whips and chains abound. The sad reality is that some days look almost depressingly normal. Today, which is ironically the Labour Day holiday, was one of those days. We spent the day in geeky nirvana catching up on TV series watching. Of course things are done with a slightly warped looking glass logic.

He asks what do you want to watch and one replies with a definitive preference. He considers it for about a nanosecond and says we will do it alphabetically. Which is why we ended up watching "Being Human" instead of "Sons of Anarchy". Honestly the whole consultive process is so He can get insight into how to screw with one's preferences.

So we settled in with misgivings... no offense guys, but generally when there is an American remake of something you just sit there going WTF! Why did they do that? Well it is often more what were they thinking? Anyway one digresses... back to "Being Human".

While it doesn't have the charm of the original, and they have upped the aggression levels, and changed the characters names, and insisted that they are a different show based on the original (at least they have stopped doing things scene by scene when they remake), and inserted about 18 more episodes because the British have a sensible approach of six episodes per season rather than 20 something, it's not too bad. It kept us involved enough that He only threatened one with anal sex a couple of times during the 12 odd hours we were watching. Usually what happens is that laying next to him results in being reamed at regular intervals... mostly when there is something engrossing to one small slave.

In fact the most active we got was consuming takeaways. Though in fairness to our lazy arses we did actually get in the car to pick up rather than have delivered... OK they don't deliver, but the thought of exercise was there. Which is probably why the hip started to protest about midnight by producing excruciating pain every time one tried to hobble out for drinks. Oh yeah baby winter cometh L

Being retired

This area has a lot of retirees. Of course it does; it's right on a stretch of lovely beaches and cafes, with an easy commute to shopping centres. It offers a laid back lifestyle, sunshine for aching bones and endless views. In recognition of these natural and not so natural advantages one of the largest growth industries, other than luxury appartments, is retirement villages. The most recent of these is "The Village".

Now while many of you are too young to remember the show "The Prisoner", some of you probably do. It was one of those fabulous British spy shows from the 60's featuring iconic clothes, music and sports cars. The show itself was slightly incomprehensible, with inscrutable plot lines and imagery that always left you feeling as though you either didn't take enough drugs or perhaps had... it was an each way bet sometimes.

The story revolved around a spy known to us as Number 6, and his struggles against being decommissioned and debriefed, after his bosses decided to make his resignation more permanent. Each week you watched his endeavours to return to London and his life, and more importantly from his bosses point of view, his attempts to take them down.

Now the questions for the day are...

Was the designer of the complex that bloody young that they don't remember the show or are they planning on issuing each new arrival with blazers and a number, and filling them with psychotropic drugs? 'Cos if so, is there a way you can put a deposit down now with an eye to the future?