MEO anal stretching ring set

Well the anal set (small, medium and large) plus the plugs arrived very promptly as always... about six days from Germany to Australia... and well packed in a discrete box. As a company you can't fault MEO for service and efficiency, not to mention great looking toys. He has this wish list that is just scary... and they just seem to get bigger. Bigger and lockable... shudders L

The implements:

Now we got the x-small one last month and it is featured in this picture on the left. The set is the other three to the right.

 You can find the specifications here, but one thought a picture paints a thousand words and nothing says it as well as a 375ml can of something artfully placed J

Another way to consider the size is to consider that the baseball bat is between the medium and the large... for those who prefer visuals.

The pros:

• Well they are gorgeous looking and very smooth.
• They make you feel very open and exposed.
• The larger they get the bigger the internal holes so the easier it is for someone to make use of your exposure.

The cons:

• The larger the hole the harder they are to get in... without an apex there is nothing to force against the sphincter to make it open and you need to be very relaxed.
• They are big... very big... actually huge.

And we were happily engaged in trying to get them in... We got the small (which is a complete misnomer by the way) one in and were working on the medium, when we had to abandon our efforts due to a broken water pipe. That is not a euphemism in case you were wondering. See this is the joy of 24/7 relationships... other shit gets in the way of your fun. We spent the rest of the day dealing with an assortment of plumbers who came, looked at the job, recommended someone else and fled the scene... with far more haste than they arrived with might one add.

So this is going to be a serial review... done between being zapped and being starved fed French food and dancing around workmen. This recovery/ holiday just gets better and better J

A day out and in

The mower man arrived bright and early to do the lawns. His mother swears that when she rang, the words early did not pass her lips. Yet there he was, with his equally noisy side kick, at sparrow fart. No doubt endearing himself to the neighbours as well... which seems only fair as they do the same inconsiderate shit all the time too J

It did serve to strengthen our resolve to go out for the morning. One of us needed fresh peanut paste and the brand of croutons that only seem to be stocked in the Valley. The other one of us needed things for His French cooking odyssey. And while we were on the topic of food we both needed breakfast... one less meal to conjure up J

So off we set in high hopes... that were dashed when we pulled up to our favourite place at Portside to find the place under renovation. We were forced to move on... muttering about other people's rotten timing. See INTJers do not like change... we like order, regularity and predictability. Well when it comes to food at any rate... we hate it in our sex lives.

Travelling further afield we landed near the places we needed for the nuts and produce so we settled in for a quick breakfast and one small slave amused herself with an excellent coffee. This was just as well because the wait for breakfast was long... though very good when it arrived. It was His turn to pay and with the skill of any good freeloader he conveniently left his wallet in the car, a skill one really needs to learn one feels.

We then proceeded to the Valley for croutons and a side trip to one of the sex shops there... 'cos they  are natural companion stores. It was there that the side effects of the Metformin (used for diabetes) that He has started taking also started to kick him in the arse, and so cutting our day short we preceded home post haste. Well as fast as you can do that kind of distance.

Mind you He rallied enough by the time we got home to try out the new toys he picked up in the Valley. Trousers pulled down, top hoyed out of the way one was spread open and a long sil-a-gel toy was rammed in one's arse. His quiet intent was to get all 10 inches tucked away safe and sound.

Now normally there would be an explicit picture inserted here...

Except that annoying burn sensation that one seems to get from anything other than silicone, glass or steel started up. So instead of a camera all He got to do was respond to the screams of get it out! Sorry L

Which does lead one to a few points...

First; those things are not odourless as they claim... there is a distinct smell and one does wonder if that is what causes the issue as one can have a reaction to perfumes generally.

Two; although one has a latex allergy, which is why we use glass, silicone and steel, they are free of that, and they are supposedly free of the nasties that cause allergic reactions like cadmium, there are obviously still things in there that the body doesn't like.

Three; the lube is the same one we use for everything and if that is causing a reaction when used in conjunction with the substance, is it something one wants in the body?

Four; we will try a few things like condoms etc and see how we go, but at this stage one suspects that it is going to be silicone, glass or steel only from here on in. 

The Neon Wand

It turned up today, looking disarmingly benign in its discrete packaging. Actually its arrival would have gone unnoticed by one small slave blissfully wasting hot water in the shower. Well it was blissful until He pressed the box up against the glass door. Wiping away the steam revealed His smirking face and this...

Sighing with resignation one turned off the tap and wandered out to find it ready to be assembled and turned on. Which was strange because it had exactly the opposite effect on one small slave... imagine that! Look you can't even feel it He said running it along his arm. Here try He said, lunging in the direction of an exposed breast. Which of course just made one move in the opposite direction... self preservation will triumph over any desire to please, every time. Contrary to popular opinion being a slave does not make you a mindless drone J

Get back here He said in that tone. One stood there contemplating the odds... it could only reach so far. You either get back here now or it will be turned up to full... said in that slightly flat, bored tone He adopts when being thwarted. Hesitantly one stepped in the range of His new toy... to be rewarded with a god awful crackling noise that made one automatically check for singed hairs... or flesh. How is it He enquired?

Really unpleasant one answered. It feels like hot pin pricks zapping you. Really He said, running it experimentally over his arm again. Nope can't feel that at all. Playfully one snatched it from his grasp and aimed it at His genitals. Hmm can feel that... just, He added. With a feeling of despair one gave up, resigned to the knowledge that if He couldn't feel it there was no hope of getting out of what was probably going to come.

See the sad fact is the body knows what to do with certain types of pain... it can deal with continual low levels of it rather well. What it can't do is cope with other types very well at all. It hates stingy things and anything electrical with a passion, and one ends up in pain that can't be processed at all. It turns a person with a high pain threshold into the biggest wimp on earth L

Which He thoughtfully videoed for your entertainment... and you will find it funny. Though it did end abruptly when the subject turned on the camera man. Something He intends to overcome with the simple measure of tying one securely in place when he goes to use it for real. Meantime He has amused himself by replaying the video several times... giggling like a school boy as he did so each and every time.

So yeah, the neon wand... it works and He loves his new toy. And it is a pretty shade of purple... which makes no difference to the outcome for the record.

Enjoy... L

The invasion

We have been invaded on two fronts at the moment. The first incursion was ants, which although this country has several of their kind including the dreaded Fire ant (a recent immigrant), we rarely see in this house. Obviously the recent rain (yes it actually rained on and off for a week) has driven them out of their homes and turned them into a marauding force. One that was viciously held at bay with an aggressive insecticide... bad ecologically unsound slave L

The second front was breached by a loathsome thing that one firmly believes shouldn't be allowed in a home. It is the cause of emotional turmoil, depression and low self esteem. They make perfectly rational people become obsessively, compulsively, neurotic creatures. We are of course talking about a set of bathroom scales.

Having come from a home with a dedicated dieter in charge of the fridge, one despises them and what they stand for. As a child it was either feast or famine... literally. Auntie, who came from the school of a little of what you fancy does you good, would take one look at the waif on her door step and cluck noisily with disgust and go on a fattening up phase. Mother would peer at one distastefully and plop one on a diet.

By the time one left home it was safe to say one did not have a good relationship with food. Actually one didn't really have a relationship with it at all. Most of the young adult life was spent underweight... not through dieting per se more that one simply didn't eat. At one stage there the second step mother popped into a dressing room to hand one something, and gasped in horror that you could count every bone in the body. Peering in the mirror one really couldn't see what the issue was... all one could see was the fat.

Of course the irony of that is that now with PCOS there really is fat... the stubborn persistent kind that is so hard to shift. The sort that keeps you on some form of a food alert and in the gym for life, in an effort to stave off the inevitable obesity that comes with PCOS. The difference is that these days one doesn't worry about the weight as much as if the clothes fit, and one is healthy and eating well. The joy of the gym is that clothing is a better indicator of what is going on than a set of scales because those things lie... and they whisper their poison in little slithery tongues that only your self esteem can hear.

So why has our home been breached by one of the minions of evil you may be wondering? Well it's all His doing. He like the challenge of stepping on one of the damn things and them telling him that he is winning. See the sad fact is that you do not ever want to engage in a weight loss battle with a man as your partner... the bastards lose weight up to twice as fast as a woman. Scales are their friends... actually they make the scales their bitch... and it is rolling over for Him.

Picture this...

It is day two of a migraine that is completely non-responsive to modern anything.  So crawling in the door after an excruciatingly slow, bumpy bus ride home, fighting the ever accompanying nausea every kilometre of the way, one plops down in the office chair grateful to no longer be moving. A feeling of peace settles over one small slave as the room finally stops lurching and spinning in time to the stomach. For that moment all is well in the world... well this small corner of it at any rate.

That feeling was short lived because as the hand alighted on the mouse, the computer screens sprang into life.  In large screen format, on the side devoted to emails, this is revealed in bright, clear colour. See round here He doesn't have to leave the comfort of his office to find ways of torturing his slave. It comes to him via an electronic medium and a brutally efficient mail out system. The world just conspires against you sometimes L

On the bright side one is safe for the moment 'cos He just took a vow of temporary poverty after buying the MEO stretching ring set (small, medium and large) in an effort to stave off any boredom He might experience playing nurse while one recuperates. Actually... that's not really safe is it? More a frying pan fire thing...

Is there a slave sanctuary out there?

Anywhere?

This whole recuperation thing is looking more like a shut in with Nurse Ratchet L

Inconsequential thoughts

Sitting on the bus this morning one happened to glance over at the passenger across the aisle. Although she was average height she had the smallest feet one has seen in years and out of the blue this song popped up...

Just thought one should share it with you. It seemed only fair as it is now stuck in the mind on a repeat play cycle L

Strange things

Voice activated commands. We have them on our new phones... that we had to get due to ours no longer being supported... again thanks for that. It gives Him a perverse thrill to just say slave into his phone and off it scurries to do his bidding. Mind you it seems almost as obedient as the real thing at times. In fact it's in training... rather like the real thing.

The difference is the commands in this case are to cum. At the moment it is a matter of learning to sync up with His voice. But a strange thing happened during sex. Having just allowed one to cum, He turns around and says let's try that again. And as one of us was protesting the likelihood He said cum for me. And the body did.

It was a strange sensation. The mind was going so not going to happen and the body scrambled to comply. It was like being hijacked... and worse than the bloody 3, 2, 1 thing L

We have this notion that we own our bodies and they are controlled by our minds, but the more time one spends in this relationship the less convinced of this one is. If anything one is starting to suspect that they are more like some women you meet. The ones who only seem to take advice from the last male voice they hear... regardless of how stupid the advice is... and let's be honest we all know one or two of them L

So what did we do today?

Well... we stumbled out of bed, scampered round like mad things tidying up, a friend dropped in, we made breakfast and went for coffee, ran home for a snack, shot off to the doctors and waited. A surprisingly short time might one add, as the doctor is usually running hideously late. We went in, sat down and He was presented with the Self Diagnosis Award for the year. It is official... He has diabetes.

On the bright side the radical change in diet is working and He has lost some weight... though if one hears I'm hungry one more time it will be to no avail. He will die in his sleep... quietly and without fuss. Actually if one finds Him sniffing round in the fridge with the same woe begotten air one more time the whole waiting for sleep thing will be by passed as well. A word to the wise... reduced carbohydrates makes for one very surly slave.

You see in an effort of solidarity one cleaned out the junk carbs from the diet... well you can hardly sit eating a packet of potato chips in front of someone who is low carbing.  Well you can, but not when they own your arse... it doesn't go very well... they look at you with those eyes... L Oddly enough it is not the low carbs themselves that are causing the issue. As a non sweet tooth it is no biggie at all, once the body has got over the shock of no toast with breakfast. And frankly with no gym at the moment due to the ankle and upcoming foot surgery it was a good time to do it... otherwise one is going to end up the size of a house by October.

 What is causing the issue is having to constantly think about meals. See generally we like to eat different things and as we only eat together maybe eight meals out of 21 it isn't a problem. The one of us who likes vegetables with a side of protein gets to eat as she pleases, and He gets to eat what he likes when one isn't around as he fends for himself... think crusty bread and manly things slapped on it here people.  

Now He has to up the protein intake, include some salads and generally forgo the slabs of crusty bread. Unfortunately He doesn't cook... so one of us in now chained to the kitchen constantly thinking about the next meal to coax his limited pallet... with Him underfoot like the family pet. And He is starving... it will settle down as the body realises it is going to have to work a little harder for its food rather than receiving instant gratification, but meanwhile there He is... head in the fridge, whining gently.

Mutters it is wrong to fondle the knives when His back is turned...

Mind you He did go out and buy a couple of cook books... well He is going to be in charge of all of this in a couple of week's time due to the foot... in an effort to learn. One of us suggested a nice easy to follow grilled meats cookbook... He went for full on French cookbook. And is wondering where you can get hold of a goose in these parts. This is going to be... interesting J

Three... two... one

He likes compliance... preferably speedy compliance. Unfortunately while one is compliant... the speedy part... well time is relative isn't it? Who's to say that the compliance isn't instant... in one small slaves mind at any rate? The real trouble is, as far as one can see, that our minds don't sync up better. To that end He has started the three... two... one method of compliance.

Now personally one doesn't really get the whole humiliation thing. There are probably things that He does that some would find terribly humiliating... usually things that one looks at and can understand how some might find it that way as an intellectual understanding. It just doesn't make one feel that way... at all. This gets one a step closer to understanding the idea.

Oh not that He is using a method that is usually used on children. It probably doesn't push those buttons because there is no past relationship with it. No, what one finds just a little bit... uncomfortable... is how quickly the body is complying while the mind is still analysing the odds. In fact it is kinda disturbing...

See normally when He asks for something the brain calculates the odds... if one says no, what will the outcome be? It is automatic. There are no doubts that He won't come across and smack one into compliance... just that well... analytical brains... odds are utterly irresistible. For some reason Him counting those numbers bypasses that part of the brain, and the body is responding while the mind is watching. It's unsettling being bypassed like that. It makes you feel utterly out of control and that is... disturbing. There is something terribly Pavlovian about it.

A beginner's guide to butt plugs

It occurred, as one was reading back through the anal guides, that there are a few of you who are starting out and in some cases very anal shy, in which case this blog is probably just not very useful to you. But there was a time one was just like you... and look at how that ended. Now that may not be your ambition, but there are some tricks that can make anal a lot easier and one thought it would be good to share some of those personal experiences with you.

The plug:
Ideally it should be flexible and soft.
Chose a silicone based jelly (sil-a-gel) for your first anal toy because it is very flexible or silicone if there is likely to be any allergy issues.

Select one about the size of your finger for starters.

If you can get a graduated set so much the better, but if not then keep an eye out for a next size up... don't get too keen J

The lube:

Get something very thick and viscous. A lot of guys use Crisco as lube and it works well by all accounts.

Generally with silicone plugs you can't use silicone lube, which is a shame as it is an ideal texture. The reason for that incompatibility is that silicone is made from sand, and even though you can't feel it there is a school of thought that says it is like two objects wearing against each other and over time it will degrade the toy.  Now having said all of that the very high grade silicone toys state you can use that type of lube with them so if in doubt check the packaging.

The position:

Oddly enough one of the best starting positions (even for anal sex) is on your side. It is comfortable and you can still reach.

Conversely on your back is one of the most difficult and something to work up to.

The trick is to find one that works for you because ideally when doing this, being able to masturbate will help relax the sphincter.

Starting out:

Make sure you are relaxed and comfortable; you could be doing this for a while.

Generally it is easier to insert a plug when you are aroused... everything relaxes.

Apply a generous amount of lube to your finger... If you are squeamish you will find finger gloves at your pharmacy. They look like little condoms and are used for a variety of purposes including inserting suppositories... and insert the lube just inside the anus by gently pushing it in.

When you are comfortable with this sensation lube up the toy and gently insert it. Take your time. Once you have got the tip in hold it firmly in place. You will feel the anal sphincter muscles contracting and if you apply pressure they will actually draw the toy in.

This process may take a few goes and if it does don't despair or get upset. Everybody is different and while some are very relaxed and elastic, there are those who are just tight. Often they are the ones who have the most difficulty and have had bad experiences which make them very reluctant to do it... ever again.

What now:

Once you have got the toy in just leave it there.

Stand up walk around a bit and get used to it.

If there is any pain remove it.

They can be left in for extended periods providing it is securely in place... and if you are a relaxed person the beginners size may creep in as you sleep so something to think about.

Should your plug disappear in that manner it can be removed by sitting on a toilet and gently bearing down... just relax and don't panic.

When you are ready you can remove it by gently pulling on it, generally it is easier if you masturbate as you do this.

Wash the toy as per the manufacturer's instructions and store it until next time.

Practise until the process is easy and then try the next size up.

Being in charge

A BDSM checklist for those who may not be sure if they actually are;

If you want to do something your slave doesn't like and they threaten to leave do you?

  1. Ask if they need help packing

  2. Ask if there is some reason for their reluctance

  3. Ask if they will forgive you and promise to never do it again

If you answered 1 then the chances are you are in charge... of course if that is your approach to all confrontation you may find yourself alone at some stage of the game because eventually we all lose a hand.

If you answered 2 then the chances are you have the basis for a stable relationship where you move forward together with you in charge.

If you answered 3 then we all know the answer don't we? Though the rest of us can hope that they are a great fuck because you need to be compensated in some way J

Mutters there are parts of Fet one really shouldn't go to first thing... it just makes a slave cranky L

Bzzzt... Bzzzt

He took last night off, but was feeling well enough to drive one to work this morning... squee more time together. So after a hearty mixed grill for breakfast we set off in the car. You know, JT's have brought out a cheap version of the violet wand. It's on sale He added conversationally.

See this is what they do. Take a perfectly nice time together and turn it into a disturbing event. It's a talent they seem to get along with the decoder ring. That, and a copy of the "Rulz Book" that seems to only work in their favour.

Umm... really, one replied politely feigning interest. Yes He said. It comes in two colours; orange and purple. Somehow one doubts that the colour will affect the outcome one retorted sourly. True, but you can get it in your favourite colour He said, smirking. Honestly, they are not as funny as they like to think... at all L

Undeterred by the venomous look He added, it will give me something to do while you're recuperating from surgery. You know this isn't quite the rehab one had in mind... right? Oh He said, feigning surprise. How did you envision it? Well meals... rest... you know... care. Oh no, He said. I think my idea is much better.

Well He would wouldn't he? He's not the one being starved, getting trained to cum on command and zapped at regular intervals. You know one is really starting to think...

He's doing it wrong!

That or the handbook is missing a couple of chapters.

Conversations down the rabbit hole

You know your arse felt very good without the lube He remarked conversationally over his breakfast. Oh good one replied, 'cos that is the last time you will experience that... ever... you broke something. He paused mid bite of his steak and salad... well it was our morning and technically his evening. If you think that is bad, you should have been the one cooking it with a migraine... the smell of blood... ugh! Anyway one digresses...

You know that scene where the person claps their hand over their mouth and exclaims OMG while looking mortified? Yeah that one... that was totally what was going on inside. Seeing the look fluttering across one's face He smiled. That nasty, smug Scorpio smile that makes your insides go all squishy. Fortunately that medication was working, which is why He was home early again, and one was safe... for now. That is not going to go well for the future one fears L

Now you might think one would get smarter over time, but one is here to tell you... that is not the case. Though one does have a working theory as to what goes wrong. Wearing a collar makes you lose IQ points over time. It is the only explanation for the attrition of the capacity for self preservation. You get so used to telling the truth, it all just slips out. Nods its all the collars fault...

Later in the day He says will you get me a glass of milk? Umm... no, one replied from the comfort of being snuggled up in His arms. His heart actually missed a beat... one could feel it via the ear pressed up against his chest... and that thing beats with way more precision than one's own ever will achieve. Umm... that was a question right? It went up at the end... that signifies a question. Right? Right?

Apparently not... It seems there are two ways and one small slaves way is not the right one. And one did ask for clarification on that point. You know... just in case He was wrong. It seems that is not an option under His system. It hardly seems fair...

Surprise

Stumbling out of bed one shoved on a load of washing and shambled towards the kettle. The only real thought was morning mouse... sweet mouse... loaded in caffeine and steeped in rituals. Computer and mouse. Fet and mouse... you are getting the idea.

So it was something of a surprise to see Him at the computer. Not just because possession is 9/10ths, but because well... He should have been at work. Back peddling slightly to come to the door one popped the head in and graciously asked what are you doing home? Hey it was pre mouse... give a girl a break.

It seems the new blood pressure medication, the doctor changed it in light of the rather high reading yesterday and the fact that it is has links to the aforementioned condition, is making Him ill. Rather more than the slight dizziness He was lead to expect. Think vertigo and all the accompanying nausea that goes with it. It was so bad He was sent home early and will probably continue to do so for a while is ones suspicion.

He did manage to rally like a champion for a little anal sex before one scampered off to work though. For the record; one really does recommend lube. The pain was searing hot and breathtaking without it, even though the arse is not a novice. Undeterred by the muffled screams one of us did manage to cum and He did let one have a consolation orgasm afterwards... mainly as a distraction one suspects. 

In fact one also suspects He broke something L

The unexpected

This was going to be a humorous tale about Veet and a man's genitals.  And you have to admit the idea is making you smile... just a little bit. Well it certainly made one small slave smile as she contemplated it. Unfortunately it has been put on hold for the moment because something else came up instead. Eyes up people... honestly J

No this little tale is far more sombre and somewhat less entertaining, but it is something for us all to think about. Lately He has been thirsty... very thirsty. No big surprise, the man doesn't drink enough fluids and is far too fond of soft drink for any human being. He has also needed to pee a lot... which sometimes happens when you get dehydrated. It is also a side effect of hypertension medication which He erratically takes... we are not going there.

It wakes him up at night lately and frankly the last week has been annoying to say the least. It wasn't until He had to nip out mid movie the other day that one really took notice... other than to shove another glass of water into his reluctant hand. In all the years one has known him He has never ever left a movie (well there was that once... but that is a tale for another time) nor has he had a Woolworths bladder. It made one notice... and actually pay attention because the first thought was prostrate.

After a few questions that was deemed unlikely because the bladder was evacuating properly... besides He cums more than most men so it was not high on the list of probabilities.  You could have diabetes one suggested conversationally. It would certainly account for the raving thirst you are experiencing. And you have lost some weight lately. You need to go to the doctors... besides your meds need to be checked out... especially with your track record of taking them.

Looking less than thrilled He agreed to go next week and sloped off to do a little digging around on the web. You might be right He said looking glum... there are tests. Well we have to go past a pharmacy on the way to do grocery shopping we can stop off. They might have some pamphlets and they may sell the tests, though you need a fasting one for accuracy.

Inside the helpful pharmacy assistant suggested that their sister store could do a prick test. Quickly before He could back out one shoved suggested He could toddle off and do it while one did the grocery shopping. It was the first time He has almost looked like he would rather go grocery shopping. Actually He looked like He would rather have needles shoved in his scrotum... why are men so difficult about their health?

So off one scampered to do groceries... humming free to do what... honestly shopping without Him is much faster. There is a list. There is order. There is no disappearing to look at things. There is no threatening of one small slave. There is no sexual harassment of her either. There is no reading of labels on things we don't want. There are no tins of Escargot that mysteriously appear at the checkout. And oddly it is much cheaper... but one digresses...

He comes back just as one hits the down ramp wielding one heavy arsed trolley with no directional aim. How was it one enquired? Well it's official. I have diabetes... there's that drama degree in action again. What was the reading, one asked out of curiosity. Looking clever He said 20.7. Oh, that is impressive... 10 is considered high... after a meal. Guess we are going to the doctors to get paper work for a fasting blood sugar test a little sooner than next week then... 

Nipple Enhancers

Which is just another word for slow torture... think the worlds tightest shoe here for comparison.

When we were out and about we picked up some of Doctor Love's Nipple Enhancers which are "designed for both arousal and appearance". Now as a person who has nipples that pop up the minute there is a breeze the last one is a bit of a strange concept, but arousal is an idea one can get behind. So they were popped on and one waited for the arousal to begin...

It is a simple system to use. You select the right sized bulb and pop a ring over the clear end of it. Depress the bulb, align it over the nipple, suck the nipple up and slip the ring in place. Sit back and wait...

At first there was a mild tingling... kinda nice. Then there was a throbbing ache... yeah that works too. And then we moved on to the other sensations... a deep stinging ache... that got progressively worse by the second. Now one suspects if this had been during sex it would have been fun. Providing one didn't look down and see the nipples turning blue... which is disconcerting to say the least.

So yes... could be a lot of fun... just not sure how you are supposed to wear them for appearance. Well not for any length of time. In fact they state quite clearly on the packet that they are not to be used in that way. Perhaps you are supposed to pop them on just before your date... and scamper off to the ladies at regular intervals to adjust them. Which could make for an interesting evening to say the least J

Creative idea #6

Yes more from the man who brought you all those others L

Just this morning one was suggesting demanding a pillow. It seemed only right since He has turned one into an anal queen. Now personally one had something soft and squishy in mind. Perhaps a nice velveteen in a preferred colour... not too much froufrou... tassels get in the most unexpected places. He thought it was an excellent idea.

And this is where we go through the looking glass again people L

He suggested one of those round haemorrhoid pillows with a hole in it, would be a perfect solution to the length issue of the 2.0 Njoy. The handle should tuck quite nicely into the hole and the whole thing is portable. In public one will even have a choice of explanations should anyone ask; haemorrhoids or extremely large butt plug. Apparently one can even have it in the favourite colour... purple L

Sighs so much for becoming a pillow princess...

Just this morning

Most mornings one stumbles to the computer clutching mouse and checks out Fet, with the same dedication that others do the comic section of the paper. Like all good comics some are thought provoking, others downright hysterically funny and occasionally... educational. OK that last one has a looking glass kinda quality to be honest. This morning though was special and one thought it should be shared as a lot of you come here for a morning/ evening giggle as well... often at one small slaves expense J

It seems He has anal sex more than any other kind because one is too ugly to fuck face to face. Which struck one as interesting... what is this obsession that some seem to have with seeing their partner and looking into their eyes? Frankly the eyes are usually closed to cut down on external stimulus and concentrate on the sensations so one can cum... when allowed. No wonder so many seem to have trouble having an orgasm. They are too distracted for their own good.

But you know in case they were right one asked Him when he came home. After careful consideration of the question... OK looking as though one of us had swallowed stupid pills... He replied umm no. I fuck you in the arse because it feels good. But we can do in with you on your back if you would prefer. Umm no thank you... it's just fine the way it is, one hastened to reply.

The next thing of interest was a moment of clarity from the Gorean community. Yeah the Trekkies of the BDSM world... bless them. Yes they are banned from the group. Not because of their basing their lives on a series of books. See if that were the case we would have to get rid of the Christians too because to those of us who are atheist or agnostic they are similar. Who are we to say that one book is better than another... though in fairness the bible is better written.

No they are banned from the group because over time they have proved again and again that whenever they get together the most horrific chest thumping ensues. That and their belief in the natural order stuff. Then it gets into people citing examples of exceptions and round and round it goes. From a mods point of view... it's just easier to say sod off to the lot of them; which is a shame because some of them are interesting people with interesting things to say. Unfortunately having the odd one or two is just used as leverage by the next one... we know 'cos that has happened too L

Despite this attitude and the fact that it is clearly posted over our door they join. And we could never work out why... other than the poor comprehension skills that are needed to be able to actually read the books. When questioned they would just keep citing that they were like us... which is just disturbing to many of us. Sure we are a small niche group, but they are... well... Gorean.

Well it seems some of them are closer to us than the rest of the BDSM community. They believe that consent is given once. At the beginning, not every time the owner wants to do some nasty entertaining thing. Many of them are consensual non-consent practitioners. Which does bring them closer to the O/p group than any other on Fet.

OMG we are related to the Goreans!

You know they say that anything worth learning is not on the net... they might be right L

An ode to the dish fairy

And other acts of kindness...

The ankle is alive and well and living... well at the end of the leg. It has coped with going back to work and the manager has been fabulous about one sloping off an hour or so early for the last couple of days... they really are just glad to have an extra body to help cover the floor, especially at lunchtime. Today was the first time the ankle has felt good, and yet by the time one got near home all one could do was dream of the couch and a horizontal position on it. In fact there might have been moments of micro sleeping on that trip that were devoted to that actual idea.

While we are on the topic of trips home one would just like to put a small thank you into the ether for His mother. She has picked one up at the bus stop, dropping whatever she was doing at the time to do it, at the end of each shift. It isn't far, but we live at the top of a small hill (there isn't really any other kind round here) and with this ankle it might as well be a cliff face; particularly at the end of the day. The woman is awesome... and she actually remembers the right favourite colour. Anyway back to the couch...

It was in one of the moments between micro sleeps that one remembered the dishes... the ones that hadn't been done. Oh the bulk of them are done in the dishwasher down the other end, but things like mugs and knives are done by hand 'cos they do not like being washed any other way. They rebel by going funny colours over time... funny unattractive colours. To be honest one was rather contemplating shoving some detergent in a cup (singular) and being done with it... the couches force is strong.

So with assorted feelings of guilt and competing slovenly behaviours one surveyed the bench next to the sink...

See the thing is He doesn't care about housework. In fact He doesn't understand the need for it at all... if anything it is an intrusion into his thinking time. The trouble is, as one wrote for another place many years ago, no person has ever walked into someone else's place and thought the man of the house needs to do more housework. What they think is she is a lazy pig. It doesn't matter if she works or has been sick... she is the one held responsible. It's why men don't really care about such stuff... they don't have to.

... and lo the dish fairy had been. At that moment one could have kissed its little wings. The levels of gratitude were almost pathetic.

Now where is all of this going you may be wondering? Well to the couch with a snack, SG Atlantis and a glorious three hour nap interspersed by the sounds of gun fire and explosions. A place one highly recommends to any sick slave. To hell with this guilt about an owner doing housework that one reads about J

These are not the droids...

Every once in a while there are searches on the blog and one can't help but think that was probably not what you were looking for... at least not the first time. So one would like to share some of the highlights with you...

The first one "cream the rabbit" got the lucky recipient this instead of the recipe they were probably looking for.

Comfort bikes brought up a surprise, though not as big a one as was probably had by the Humane Society when they searched for inhumane.

The art of good communication got this... though in fairness that one did have some handy tips... and a laugh or two.

So to all of you who experienced the shock surprise that is Google searches... sorry J

The new party trick

The human body is a complex thing... and things don't always go the way they should. Take pain for example. At the moment due to the foot there are continual low levels of it. The body processed it as erotic... which was rather unexpected though not new.

Unfortunately when you add something new to the mix it has to find another way to let you know it is not happy. So rather than pain because that would be normal, and a little hard to do 'cos that is being registered on low grade level, it has taken to using nausea to signal its dissent. Overdo it... nausea. Knock the ankle... nausea. Rough anal sex... nausea.

That last one is not so good. A fact one discovered as He was thrusting into the aforementioned orifice. Every time He slammed into the arse a rolling wave of nausea would hit. So one did the instinctual thing of trying to get away from the source and He reached out to grab the collar and hold one in place. It was one of the very few times one actually wished He would just cum... sooner.

Now some of you may be wondering why one didn't just pipe up and say something. Well apart from the fact one was face down in a pillow which muffles things... it was so freakishly new one had to take time to work out what was going on. Slam... nausea... hmm that can't be right... slam... nausea... no it definitely seems to be linked. Huh! Well that's just wrong.

Then when the connection was made it was a case of just stay as quiet as possible... mainly because one really didn't want to throw up all over the pillow and opening the mouth at that point probably would have resulted in just that. To say it was the strangest sexual experience would be an understatement. It was also the first time anal sex was less than stellar... which just sucks.

It did give one an interesting insight into why you can lose your voice during a beating. The mind gets caught up in processing each blow individually. It gets stuck in logic loops and eventually the pain just takes over in such a vast way that the capacity for speech (in the formal sense of the word) is gone. Leaving you with only the ability to whimper into a pillow... which isn't much good as a form of communication. 

Beware of owners bearing gifts

He was out doing the grocery shopping, so while a load of laundry was on one nipped into the shower to use an illicit amount of hot water. A noise outside the shower door caused one to wipe off the steam and peer out. He was standing there casually leaning against the wall... in front of the towels so there was no avenue of escape. The whole pose was enough to make the whiskers twitch nervously.

Smiling He said I've bought you a present. Looking at Him with a sense of dread... well he had been in the produce aisle alone... one hazarded a few guesses. Umm... cucumber? Carrots? (OK that one was just hopeful). Smiling He produced the gift from behind his back. Look what I found He said triumphantly, and it was on sale.

It's a baseball bat one said sounding utterly dense. Yes it is He agreed gravely. Umm we don... the voice sort of trailed off there. He smiled encouragingly and said be grateful it's not a full sized one. Besides it's for later... after you've cooked breakfast.

As it turned out it was more after breakfast and a couple of bouts of anal... for which one was also suitably grateful. And it is amazing what you can find under a desk... the stuff that rolls under there is fascinating. So with that taken care of and laundry flapping on the line one was escorted to the bedroom... bearing a newly scrubbed bat. Fortunately some extra large condoms arrived yesterday... fancy that.

After applying a generous serve of lube He proceeded to stretch the arse by fisting it. He's thoughtful like that. And then He started to insert his new toy. A toy that makes the Eleven pale into insignificance on the anal stretching front.

The strange thing is that once it got to a certain point... a point that was actually making one call uncle for all the good it was doing... the damned arse just started eating it. The sensation of the bat being drawn in by the sphincter muscle was an amazing sensation. Adrenalin is pumping around the body, it is relaxed and you are feeling no pain. Honestly one can see why people tackle traffic cones.

So yes... sports equipment... far more interesting than watching a game any day J

A day of small horrors

We crawled home at an abominably late hour, and just as one peeled off the last item of clothing one remembered that there was a specialist appointment at an ungodly hour. What sort of a cretin makes an 8.30am appointment? Oh that's right, one who thought it would be good to get it out of the way. Early; so it left the day free.

So feeling exceptionally sleep deprived one awoke a whole four and a half hours later to shower and front up at the specialists. Sitting in the car waiting we vowed to return home, ignore all chores other than the Census, and go back to bed. At the appointed time we front up, meet the charming surgeon... wearing the spiffiest high heeled boots... who examines the foot and announces the neuoroma is about the size of her first thumb joint. She is surprised that it hasn't been giving more grief.

She also chirpily informs us that the hospital waiting list is even grimmer than we had been lead to believe. You wait two years for the appointment... the actual surgery is another year. After giving us the cost to do it privately we look at each other and nod in union. The foot is booked in for the 6th of September. On the bright side she does it from the top, rather than the bottom. It means one will be ambulatory virtually the next day and back at work in two weeks, unlike the six weeks we were originally told... that should make our employers happy.

We scuttled home with visions of bed, only to be greeted by His mother and the grandchild. Brimming with obscene levels of chirpiness, bouncing blonde curls and big blue eyes she informs us it is her birthday and asks will we come to the party? We look at the little monster and with a deep loathing accept her invitation. Crawling away feeling like the condemned one of us removes clothing, gets into something more comfortable... yes it might have been purple... and He starts the Census. It takes forever and goldilocks is less than thrilled by the lack of attention being bestowed on her. He sics her in one's direction to distract her. Perfidy thy name is Owner.

Fortunately one managed to micro sleep between toy selections that were brought up for one's amusement. When she appeared on the horizon bearing a fishing game one played possum like a pro. Honesty there are limits and one called red... it seems to work better with her than Him. Finally they left and we fell into a short sleep... before being called to lunch.

We fronted up to His mothers, trying to look thrilled to be directed to our seats by our small sadist, who organised us with all the efficiency of a drill sergeant. She even made us don pink fairy hats... that were one size too small. Looking at the love of one's life with a smile, one threatened to take Him out in his sleep if he took so much as one happy snap. Bad, bad slave J

Giving the birthday girl her present He asks what colour dress is Barbie wearing? Purple is the solemn pronouncement. It's her favourite colour He says, smiling in one's direction. Mine too goldilocks says, beaming like she has found a kindred spirit. No it's not says His mother looking perplexed. Her favourite colour is red. Bless that woman. 

Finally we are released from the hell that is other people to crawl up the hallway to bed. Firmly locking the door in our wake... not that it did much good... there was tapping on the door just as we fell into bed. Seems they needed their computer tech to once again explain the vagaries of Skype. Just as one was drifting off in blissful sleep, He came back, bounced on the bed, and hauled up the covers to put his cold hands all over one's warm soft breasts. It got ugly there for a short while. Again, bad, bad slave L

You know what this means He says, with a smile in his voice. No one says, desperately trying to go back to sleep. No more jeans. You will soon be back in heels and skirts, and lifting them up to show me... maybe with one of those large MEO rings in. That will look exceptionally nice!

Oh goody, goody gumdrops L

For the record

The favourite colour is not purple.

And you can all stop laughing now!

He says one has to mention that currently one is wearing a purple striped top, purple starred bottoms and purple booties... it doesn't count :(

Cool sands, warm water

The plan;

Walkies in the soft sand at the beach... it's supposed to be good for rehabilitation of a sprained ankle. Mainly because you can't limp and the foot is all over the place as you try and maintain balance.

The execution:

He parks meters from the stairs, which one can manage due to the nifty inclusion of a handrail, and guides one to the soft slope to the beach. Which with the amount of mobility one has to negotiate such a drop, could have been the Cliffs of Dover. So one gets to walk to the stairs... not so great for ankles for the record L

The outcome;

Negotiating soft sand is great for making the foot work... and it is a bit of rehab designed by a sadist who has never had a sprained ankle. Not to mention one actually has to touch soft sand with bare feet... it gets between your toes and has to be up there with splodging as a sensation... eww. So after struggling along for a few meters and back, at a slow crawl that left one as puffed as a marathon runner, we got back in the car and drove to breakfast.

From there on in the day took on its usual looking glass quality... do stop now if you are squeamish.

We are parked on chairs, while the ankle swelled up to an impressive size as a way of thank you for the exercise, and He turns and says, with that particular gleam in his eyes, when we get home we can have a quick shower and... Quick as a flash one leaped in and hazarded start tidying up before the guests arrive tomorrow? How bad can it be he asked it was only done last week? Blinking in disbelief one asked have you looked? Well no more than normal He replied (which is code for not at all). Rolling the eyes one started making a quick list and calculating the physical ability, in an endeavour to make a list of the essentials.

Taking one look at the face He says and this is why I'm in charge; the ability to prioritise and put the important things first. Sty was the first word that blurted out of one's mouth. Yes, but you would be too blissed out to care He retorted. That or blindfolded so you couldn't see. Either way would work He finished up, looking smug.

It was after the last load of dishes were done, 'cos rather like the sandwich fairy, the dish fairy hadn't mysteriously presented itself over the last couple of days either, one plopped down to do a manicure. It was at the critical stage when the bladder insisted it was in charge. Now one of the great joys of having an owner who like water sports is that you can say would you mind giving one a hand? Following one into the bathroom He started to divest himself of his clothes, which made one squeak in protest. All He had to do was pull down one's pants and pat things dry afterwards.

Really you need to stop reading here...

Of course it wasn't that simple with Him in charge. Oh no. He decided it might be fun to see if he could get the notorious lack of aim to improve. You know when people are yammering on about slave training one just bets that this isn't the stuff they have in mind. For the record He can get better aim, but he is lousy at the pat down. And one did explain the idea was to pat with the paper... not rub... repeatedly.

For the record though, should any of you find yourself in the position of needing this kind of assistance... it makes you feel like a child; a slightly resentful child. And it doesn't help if someone is playing water cannons with your plumbing. Honestly it is so hard to get good help these days... it's like they try to be difficult... or something...

He has ruined the orgasms

It has always been His dream to get one to cum on command. So far the only thing saving one small slave is lack of time. Though when the foot surgery is done, He has pencilled the training in for something to do. Now that will be a rehab to remember... not enough food and forced orgasms L Yeah laugh you miserable bitches.

You don't understand the evil that is Him. Those orgasms will be occurring at the worst possible times... in the cold section of the supermarket, lifting a weight at the gym... it will not be pretty. Worst of all one is noisy... really freaking noisy. Mind you at least in the gym no one will notice, and the crash of the weight will barely raise an eyebrow. Though the sight of one trapped under it might cause some mirth.  

Meanwhile He has amused himself with establishing voice command protocols. It is one of the reasons one isn't supposed to cum without permission... well that and He likes saying no. At this stage it is a little wonky and doesn't always work. What it has done though is ensure one can't cum with any ease while masturbating without Him. The only way one can actually achieve an orgasm is to hear His voice in one's mind. Even then the orgasm is never as good as when He is there.

Damn Him and his infernal need to tinker!

Bruised and swollen

Well it is official the ankle is sprained... well and truly. The doctor estimates 2-4 weeks off work and one told him it has a week. For starters one can't afford the time off, and certainly not with six weeks off in the future due to foot surgery. It does look kind of impressive in a cankle sort of way. It is also boring as hell being unable to do much... yeah bad patient. He says that one needs to learn to entertain oneself... grumps where is the fun in that?

There is an interesting side effect to all this though... The continual low grade pain is making one as horny as hell. Obviously it is the right sort of pain for the body to process in this rather intriguing manner. It won't process His bloody floggers in that useful way, but it will a sprained ankle. Go figure... rolls eyes.

And He is being so supportive of the whole situation. Oh not meals or anything practical like that, though He did bring some crusty bread home with him. He is rising to the occasion in a particularly sporting manner... He thoughtfully sodomised his slave before going to sleep. He even let one cum.

Of course as one is now awake and horny again... wonder if that is what He meant by entertaining oneself? An afternoon of cumming and snoozing... OFFS sooo bored... this is going to drive one nuts and it is only the second day. Peers at the bench wondering if one can stand long enough to make a sandwich...

Oh and for the record:
Condoms from Condom Jungle... 11 working days and still nothing

Thursday

The day started innocuously enough. Wake up, drink mouse, catch up on Fet, curl up at the door to wait for Him to come home and cook breakfast. Nice normal domestic stuff. Well that was how the day began... from there on in it sort of went off the straight and narrow.

It started getting more interesting when He enquired how's the arse? With a scowl one informed Him it had shut tighter than a fish's arsehole. Smirking He said so sex is out of the question? Now the question wasn't the issue so much as the hand waving pantomime He was doing at the time. Glaring at Him one retorted that waving his fist around like that constituted as threatening behaviour.

Mind you it wasn't as threatening as when He cornered one in the shower. Lubed up with soap He thrust into the poor little orifice in a series of quick, deep jabs. Held in place all one could do was whimper and breathe until He finally came. It was a hell of an orgasm judging by the hard rhythmic pumping and His final deep groan of release. In fact after one thanked him politely and cleaned him off He was still hard. It's the sounds of whimpering that does it one suspects... though He denies it.

So slightly traumatised, one scampered off to catch the bus for work. That was when disaster struck. In a heartbeat one tripped and fell, skinning a knee and twisting the other ankle badly enough to be grateful for the lift a couple of sparkies gave one to the corner. The errant ankle is now in a compression bandage awaiting inspection by the doctor, but judging by the way one can't actually rotate the foot without ending up in a screaming heap one rather suspects it is sprained.

He of course, being the soul of sympathy, turned around and said to be grateful that you tripped rather than had a fall. Making a time honoured gesture in His direction one contemplated at what age you have to be to no longer trip. Is there a cut off age at which you start to have falls? It was in the middle of this contemplation and confusion that the postie turned up bearing a package of Biofreeze.

It was only a couple of days late... unlike the condoms which we are still waiting on L

Right at this moment though one is eyeing off the tube of gel in a completely non-sexual manner... which is not what it was sent for. So not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, it is going to put it to good use. See the universe does provide you with just what you need. The secret is to recognise it J

The end of the sexual revolution

While He went to get a haircut one spent the morning doing laundry and cleaning up a massive pile of sex toys... think kitchen sink full here people. The place looked like the inside of a brothel with lube and condoms scattered between tissues and drinks and discarded items of clothing. Having been in the one or two brothels over the years one is speaking from experience. There was also that pervasive smell of sex in the air, despite clean sheets, and all over the skin, despite numerous showers. It was lovely J

He spent the early afternoon making sure the endorphin crash wasn't too bad. Wasn't that just the nicest thing? Promising sex He lured one to bed and proceeded to work on toughening up the arse... his renewed mission to make one more receptive to his bloody floggers. Seems yesterday just increased his resolve and He is of the opinion one just needs to be beaten more often. Yeah, thanks for that... glares at a certain someone... really starting to consider getting an elf... one who likes to be beaten.

Mind you the whole beating thing paled into insignificance as He proceeded to see if he could get his fist in ones arse. Actually it wasn't too bad once He got the knuckles in. Mind you by that stage the endorphins were so high one wasn't actually capable of feeling too much. Three hours later one is still waiting for the feeling to come back... that will not be good.

So after a massive orgasm one scampered off to the hairdressers. The walk was lovely and the mind sort of floated along... as it does. Actually the mind had spent the whole day slightly pixilated. Really one had forgotten how much fun group sex was and as one walked one mourned, just a little, the passing of the sexual revolution. And it has passed well and truly from what one can see.

Growing up one had the advantage of living in a country that was a little behind the times in some ways. It meant that one caught the tail end of the social experiment that was peace, love and sex. Everyone has a time they would like to have been around for and dammit the 70's would be the time one would choose. Great music, great drugs and sex... what more could a person want?

Chatting to the babies at work it is fascinating how the age of the sexually repressed is upon us. Oh they are still having sex... it is just that it seems to be attached to a whole pile of things; self esteem issues, love, cementing a relationship. Well the advent of diseases that can kill you will do that. It is such a shame... particularly to one who always enjoyed sex, preferably with virtual strangers.

Now it is too much like playing Russian roulette to hold much appeal, but the idea of an elf is starting to grow increasingly attractive.

Right up until one considers the search for the mythical unicorn known as a third.

Then the mind just retreats and starts rocking gently while moaning no.

After the event

We had a friend over the today for lunch, dinner and a little exploration of mutual interests. Oddly enough one is going to say very little on that topic other than it was a wonderful day, that left us all a little too high on endorphins. In fact this post would look like we picked them up at the train station, picked up some wine for lunch, redacted, went and got seafood, redacted, redacted, redacted, went out for Zorbas excellent pizza, redacted, redacted and took them home. Well it would except for one tiny little problem...

He is a big boy and so are most of his toys and one small slave has a latex allergy. All of this means we have to import large latex free condoms because they are not available in this country. Not really a big deal in this age of international postal systems that are linked. So He hopped on line, ordered some from Condom Jungle, paid for the hideously expensive (over $30) expedited post that promised arrival in six working days, and got on with other things.

Anal speculum

That order was placed on the 20 July and guess what? We are still waiting for those bloody condoms. It meant that some of the things we had planned were shelved in favour of others. We are nothing if not adaptive, though one does now have a sink full of toys that are going to have to be sterilised rather than just cleaned. Happily the day ended up looking like this --->

Honestly though, this could have been the biggest three way disaster in the history of sex, so thank you Condom Jungle L

Revenge

Right in the middle of blitzing the place He announces that a trim would be nice for a change. At that moment one is in house work mode and staring at him blankly with a slack jaw, it took a minute to realise he was talking about his genitals. Let's be honest it was not a logical first choice... actually there weren't too many possibilities at all, which is why one was standing there looking so vacant. Though it was the most inconvenient suggestion, which should have been a clue.

 Um you want one to zip around your most treasured parts with a blade one enquired in disbelief. See the art of good communication is mirroring... they say something, you rephrase it back at them... it is a way of double checking you are both on the same page and lets them know they are being heard. Besides it sounds better than you what? Though in fairness "you what" is faster.

Yes I would like a trim He repeated in a patient tone. See all that good communication going on? Tell you what one said by way of compromise, how about one does the difficult bits and you do the important bits... 'cos you are never going to believe that any slips are an accident. He's Scorpio, not only is he never going to believe it, one small slave is never going to hear the end of it either L

So off He trotted to get the clippers and start the project. He started the first decisive swathe and one realised He had taken the guides off, which meant rather than a trim it was now going to have to all come off... it was that or He started a new trend in Mohawks. Right at that point it was tempting... bad slave. It was also at that point that one realised why people spend so much going to salons to get clipped.

There are parts of the male anatomy that are almost impossible to reach unless you are a contortionist. So one small slave got the job of being the clipper bitch. You know all these years of having sex with men and one had never realised how much surface area there is in a ball sac when it is stretched out. It also convinced one that there was another job one would never want to do for a living... clipping... though one suspects that the waxing could be fun.

Later He turns around and says I like the way this feels. We might keep this for a while. All of sudden the future was clear... and it was not bright. Um how about next time we try some Nair or Veet one offered helpfully. Well it has to be quicker surely...