Sleep interrupted

At the moment the council is improving our water supply. This means that the water is being shut off at night between the hours of 9pm and 6am. Now no one is sure what they are doing exactly, but they are doing it very industriously... think large groups of men and machines, making lots of noise here people. Anyway inconclusive results aside, the upshot is that in our little household it has created havoc because one of us doesn't arise until 10 pm and on the night chosen for us, one small slave doesn't get home until just before 9pm.

As one was hobbling home, nursing the beginnings of a bad sinus headache (so hate this time of the year) one spied them congregating in one of the side streets. Even without them doing anything the noise was horrible. Thinking you poor bastards stuck with that lot outside your house all night, one hustled up the hill dreaming of analgesics and antihistamines. Such are the dreams of a slave at the end of a day...

Flinging oneself inside the shower with just minutes to spare, one immersed the body in glorious, steaming hot water... for the few precious moments that one had. Emerging one made Him lunch, and nursed a nice cup of tea until he got up for breakfast. After which one meandered off to bed for a whole six and a half hours of sleep, as one had to get up at 5.30am for what was to turn out to be a ten hour shift at work.

So you can imagine the delight one experienced when awoken by the sound of tarmac being scraped off the road by large machines at 4am. Yes, they had moved... to our corner. Of course not content to just make hideous noises, they had to have shouted conversations... 'cos you need to discuss your weekend plans over your large engines, noise and confusion.

To add insult to injury one of them insisted on whistling while he worked. A particularly loud whistle of no discernable musical merit might one add. May he find a special place in some outer ring of hell for the rest of his existence. Perhaps he might end up where muzak goes to die... it would seem fair.

And for the record... all those freaking TV channels, and the only thing on at 4am is Inspector Morse... again L

Saving water

Preparing to get ready for the working grind one hobbled off to the shower. I'll be right behind you, He said with a lascivious smile. He stood with the door open, masturbating while one showered and shampooed... watching suds slipping on skin as one washed curves and crevices. When the conditioner was on, He made his move.

Pinning one up against the wet tiles, He stood behind spreading arse cheeks apart to give him better access. Pressing the head of his cock against one's arse He leant against it, slowly forcing it to open for him. With slow rhythmic strokes He fucked it as water drummed against our skin. Finally with a quick thrust He came.

Stepping fully into the shower He manoeuvred one out from under the water. In the wink of an eye one was deposited on the other side of the glass door. Frankly, not much cleaner than when one started. Damn Him and his superior size L

See it's not the toothpaste that attracts them... it's the sound of running water... and cleanliness. Nods that's what it is.

Forgetting what we are

Sometimes when we do a series of pictures or a review, one puts some alternate pictures up on Fet. Not often... just some of the more entertaining stuff... mainly so friends who have an assortment of difficulties using Blogger can have a giggle or scream red. And it is amazing how so many, who don't have a safe word, will find their voice to scream that word. Actually one has even used it occasionally... for all the good it does, but that is another story.

Anyway for some reason the MEO locking plug caused quite a stir. From friends of friends even... and there was a singular lack of enthusiasm by and large. Which one gets. Anal is not everyone's cup of tea. According to the Cosmo Sex Census "Is Anal Sex Still a Taboo" Cosmopolitan October 2011: 128, only 8% of women actually like it. Honestly you're doing it wrong... you must be, but again that is another story too.

No what this is about, is the amount of friends who took one look at it and went off screaming variations of the no sentiment. Strangely most of them have someone in their life that owns their arse. Many of them hang out in the group and well... no doesn't seem to be an option. Well it is if you like your no with a side of coercion, and to be honest one suspects some do. They are no more going to get away with the no word than one small slave is... unless the person hearing it agrees with them.

You read of these slaves who are obedient and well trained and one looks at them and thinks... how do they do it? High protocol with firm lines in the sand, a more obliging nature than one will ever possess? Some little drive to serve, more frequent maintenance beatings? Better brain washing techniques... nicer dispositions? Actually that one wouldn't be hard, particularly before coffee.

By comparison to many of those we look like rabble... in fact it is an accusation that has been levelled at more than one of our group at various times. Usually when they are out calling someone on their shit. Seriously what sort of a moron actually expects to be addressed by their self appointed title, and expects the person using it to keep a straight face and adopt a respectful tone? Anyway one digresses...

See many of us have quite long leashes. We run as far as we can, until someone yanks on it to bring us back in. Sometimes one does wonder if our longer leash allows us to forget what we are. We look at those sorts of pictures screaming red and declaring no way... forgetting that it is just as likely to turn up in a nice plain brown box... right on our doorstep. It isn't something that we have a choice on. We get to keep the illusion that no means no, while our owners are ordering the damn things off the net. 

It's done that way so that our owners can see the dawning realisation in our eyes that our illusions are just that L

Bastards... sadistic bastards!

The MEO expanding and locking plug

Based on a scaled down medieval torture device, this butt plug has a push down button that causes the plug to expand when inside you. This makes it blossom to about three times its original size. It is then locked in place so it cannot be removed by the wearer without a key. Made from stainless steel it is nickel free and easy to clean... unlike the original ones.

Now this is MEO's junior version... don't let that fool you, it is still a large plug as you can see from the photo. That is the Locking Plug, the Ex. lg. Rosebud and the large Njoy on the right.  As you can see "junior" is a bit of a misnomer.

In spite of its size and shape it is surprisingly comfortable to wear, though when the plug is expanded ... it is big. The handle can be sat on even with the lock. It actually nestles against the body without jabbing anything. Which was a surprise to be honest... and a relief.

Though personally one doubts it would be suitable for long term wear, and an enema beforehand is a good idea for obvious reasons, it is an interesting sensation to try. So if you are one of those people who like a challenge, you just might love this plug J

Negotiations... looking glass style

The day started off with a vicious minus (migraine/ sinus combo) headache and a complete inability to find suitable drugs... the little fuckers hide themselves deliberately. Anyway resorting to analgesics and antihistamines, one drank coffee and whined to friends on the net until it was time to take more pills. At times like this the need for carbs becomes a steady gnawing ache and He took pity on one small slave... well it was more opportunistic than that, but let's call it pity for now.

What are you prepared to do for the chips...

And a peppermint ice cream one interjected hopefully.

... and ice cream He asked in that soothing, sympathetic voice.

Umm... well one will have a shower and stop whining.

Oh I think you can do better than that He said.

What did you have in mind, one enquired cautiously?

Oh I think a large butt plug to take your mind off things... you can go and put it in while I'm getting dressed.

Muttering gracefully under the breath one hobbled off to the shower, and after using more than the allotted four minutes one emerged clean and plugged.

Show me He said. Oh green... it will match the ice cream.

So off one hobbled to the bedroom ready to receive the promised treats. Curling up on the bed next to one His hand reached out. Please don't push it... it hurts when you do that.

Ah, but it's mine. I can if I want to... poke, poke, pull, poke

Yeah get that, which is why one said please... you know as in please don't.

Oh, but you didn't sound serious when you said it He replied.

Oh what, you want one to beg?

I don't think you know how to He said.

Well one could try... if it would actually change the outcome.

Nope don't think it would to be honest He said, sounding all kinds of smug.

Yeah well in that case one is not going to debase oneself trying to find out.

Honestly the price of a bag of chips and an ice cream is awfully steep around here if you factor in the taking advantage of a person... an injured, sick person might one add. In fact one is sure it is some sort of abuse. Now admittedly one did spend the rest of the afternoon snoozing off the carb fest, analgesic combination... but dammit the sheets had crumbs. One small slave makes that princess out of "The Princess and the Pea" seem positively thick skinned by comparison. The skin can find micro crumbs... that has to count as abuse right?

Grumbles no it doesn't make one a princess... just sensitive.

In a word

Sore
Damn sore
OK two words

Stupid people

Dedicated to lil and all those out there with mother in laws... actually family in general

His mother's doctor wanted another go at fixing her heart. She was given the choice of two dates; now or after Christmas. Chatting about it one suggested that after Christmas would be better as the foot would be healed and it would coincide with her daughter's holidays, just in case anything went wrong...

Of course she elected to get it done this week. Her daughter was going to come down for a couple of days and everything was going to be fine. They had it sorted between them...

Guess what? Something went wrong and now her stupid cunt of a daughter has to go back up north. Her idiot husband needs her there when he has his job interview. As if that will make any difference to the outcome; though there is a better chance that he will make it to the interview. And she is due back at work soon. And, and, and... You are getting the idea.

This means we are going to be left with His mother's long term rehabilitation when we cannot get any more time off work. His place is so short staffed that it isn't an option and meanwhile one is supposed to be doing extra shifts this week as we are about to move. It's all hands on deck... no exceptions.

So we have to get His father, who is disabled, into emergency respite care on short notice because there is no way one can look after both of them with this foot and ankle, and go to work. Not only does this mean sending His father to a place he has never been before and will hate every minute of (trust one on that), but getting him into an overloaded bureaucratic system.

And all of this has to be done by Wednesday when she swans off into the wide blue yonder.

The same day we go back into work rotation. 

Honestly one could just smother His mother as she lies on her hospital bed. A place she will probably be until... you guessed it. Wednesday!

Except they would revive her... they have the skill and the technology.

But everything will be fine. His sister is cooking food for the freezer before she goes.

And you know something, at the moment one is hostile enough to actually feed whatever crap she makes to His mother, when one gets home at 9pm at night. Not sure what she is going to do for lunch exactly... or how she is going to get it.

But everything will be fine. 

So lil about that gas money... wanna trade J

A companion field guide to trolls

Foreword

As a child one used to like the tale of "Three Billy Goats Gruff" and it was the first introduction to a troll. They were creatures of myth and mayhem that were prone to a meanness of spirit. Something their human counterparts seem to share and something that one has become more intimately acquainted with thanks to online forums. We think of a troll as being an antagonistic creature that stirs trouble. Honestly though one thinks there is more than one type that hangs out on forums, and this field guide will endeavour to catalogue and examine some of them.

Chapter One:

Genus: Troll

Species: consuetudo

Common name: The familiar troll... otherwise known as is that so and so back again.

Habitat:

The subject is attracted to those with strong opinions, who aren't afraid to voice them. At its heart it is a troll; it likes confrontation. It also knows that these people will not only provide it with the best cover and enable it to blend, but the best sport on the net. All it has to do is stand around and come out on the side of a potential friend... they will do the rest. Needless to say it hangs out in groups that will not only best serve its needs, but allow it to meet the right people.

Life cycle:

Stage 1:

Nesting:

Usually the subject appears out of nowhere, often exhibiting advanced communication skills despite its professed newness to the online medium. In fact this erudite communication skill is what attracts its victims... well no one wants to hang out with stupid sounding people... it makes you look bad. The troll comes along, has the right credentials to fit into a demographic, speaks the right language or talks the talk and is accepted into the fold. Inserting itself into a group with confidence and assurity, the familiar troll becomes friends with people. Often this friendship leads them to know the peoples real names and a wealth of little details via memos, IMs and the odd phone call... well knowledge is power after all.

Stage 2:

Adult developmental stage:

Things usually go along swimmingly until people start to ask too many questions. When this happens the troll will do one of two things. It will disappear, if it is not too invested in its character or it will stick it out. Trolls are predatory creatures, not well suited emotionally to being prey... unless they think the victim card can be worked to their favour. At this stage it usually gets ugly with the troll's friends defending them and rallying to its defence. Eventually though if enough heat is applied to the subject it will explode... leaving an egg like substance on people's faces.

It is worth noting that the victims of the troll often follow two paths themselves. They adopt a shame on us approach or they continue to believe that their friend was simply misguided and wanted to belong... a little too much. Well it is easier to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes... Nixon came good in the end.

Stage 3:

The metamorphosis:

In this phase of its lifecycle the familiar troll makes a comeback. They change and evolve; often fixing the issues that got it spotted last time.

Example:

Say last time it was single and this lead to too many offers it couldn't keep ducking, a smart familiar troll might invent a partner to keep the would be suitors away. It is fast and efficient and besides, everyone loves a romance to share in. Now if this strategy was a bust, for whatever reason or if it was the thing that lead to its demise, then next time out they might invent a pre-existing partner... one that enables them to blend in with the target audience. Hanging out with married people? Invent a husband. Need a reason to for him to never be there? Oh he travels... a lot.

You get the idea... fast, adaptive and utterly cynical.

Spotting the familiar troll:

In spite of its adaptive skills a familiar troll can be spotted. See it is a creature of habit and besides, it believes in its own abilities and the gullibility of others... it's a bit lazy like that. When making a character it is good to stick to what you actually know... or are at least familiar with. What better template than yourself or someone you know; keeping some essentials like age, hair colour, children and hobbies, cuts down on a lot of work. It also replicates background details because on some level it embraces certain beliefs and interests.

What the familiar troll can't do very well is mask writing style because style is something that evolves over time with practise, and as such it quite ingrained and hard to correct, particularly on a fast paced board. This is in part why it will hang out with the same core members it did last time... If you have a sharp tongue it is better to stick with your own kind. It is worth noting that it might not get as close to some of the more nosey ones as last time, and it will avoid those that asked too many sharp questions. Sometimes it just can't resist a trophy though, and it will form a friendship with one or two who slighted it last time... well everyone likes a little payback.

Often what sets off the observers alarms is their perfect nature. Their talk is a little too good, their lives a little too perfect and their evident confidence a little too polished. They never seem to have doubts or meltdowns or even emotional difficulties with things. In short they are a little one dimensional in some ways... trust that little voice on this matter.

Control and eradication:

Now when you have one of these in your midst there is very little you can do. Any questions are either going to make it duck off or worse... stand its ground. This always leads to unpleasantness and off the cycle goes. No, you are much better either cutting it off from the intimacy it craves or watching the endless entertainment it provides... preferably from a safe distance. 

Here we go...

Back on the bus again... this time with an arse full of cum. It was a parting gift from Him. A little reminder if you will. Apart from that this will probably not be a good day.

We have been together every minute (well apart from the hospital visit) of the last two weeks. Now we are ripped apart again and it will be miserable. See we have this hinky little chemical bond... call it love, call it pheromones. That chemical bond, for want of a better term, is probably why we are still madly deeply, passionately attached to each other. Without our fix we start to crash and cycle through a mildly depressive state. One that grows more pronounced the longer we are separated.

You read about people that pine away after the death of their loved one. That will be us... we will be those people. It was bad enough when He went to America. No amount of chatting online or on the phone helped make it better. If anything it was worse.

A few members of our group are currently separated by work commitments. Honestly one doesn't know how they do/ did it. For us there simply isn't enough money to make that kind of agony worthwhile. It's bad enough to have to pony up for the 26 odd hours a week as it is. Hell at this stage contemplating eight hours plus travel time is bad enough L

The last day of freedom

For tomorrow we return to work... without as much as a skerrick of enthusiasm on either of our parts. So to celebrate our last day of freedom? We rushed around doing grocery shopping and laundry. This is when a water main blew and left us without water for most of the day... and why one was finishing off the last sink of dishes at 11pm. In fact the highlight of the day was finally getting the last of the iodine solution off the toenails... hey; you learn to celebrate the small victories where you can in this world.

Apart from that, the only achievement was a couple of orgasms and a snooze. Where one dreamt of being on holiday... a good one that involved large drinks with small umbrellas shoved in them... and tons of kinky sex.

Even the subconscious had to get the boot in L

Wrapped in plastic

You may have read the other day when one said He had a priceless gift... Yeah taking that back... Shooting video of someone shuffling off to the shower wrapped in plastic does not make a woman feel sexy. Shooting it for the sole purpose of amusing her readers... all one can say is you are not as funny as you like to think L

On the bright side today commemorates the last day one will shuffle off to the shower in a plastic bag. Today one was getting ready to go to the doctor to have the impediments to showering removed. May one just take a moment to say how much one is looking forward to being able to wash that foot properly and more importantly, showering more than once a day. It is spring here and already cranking up to 26 (78.8) degrees during the day... this would have been hideous during summer.

So off one hobbled to the doctor where she viciously ripped off the plaster... the woman giggled as she did so... pronounced it healed, gave the biopsy results (which were negative), and sent one off into the pale morning light. This exalted state that will no doubt result in another bill for $145. She also dropped one right in it with Him 'cos his first question was when can she wear high heels again? Without turning a hair she replied oh probably two weeks. So much for female solidarity...

Gore alert stop looking now...

Seriously does this foot look like it will be ready to be hoicked up into a high heel in two weeks?

Sighs what is wrong with them... even an untrained eye can see it will be a bit longer than two weeks before one is ready to go scampering after Him, teetering on high heels. It's bad enough that we look like a Chihuahua and a Great Dane, but is there any reason to hobble the Chihuahua any further? There needs to be a Slave Protection Society... anyone... err... anyone else, want to start one? 

Smart arse

Well more a smarting arse really L See it happens to all of us at times... we bite off more than we can chew. OK it's more that someone jams more than we can chew up somewhere. It started off simply enough... a little more quality time in the MEO's, finished off with a night in the company of the green eyed monster.

The rosebud is larger than the Njoy by a considerable amount... about twice the size. There was a time when it was worn all the time, but things go in and out of favour around here, and to be honest the Njoy has a much smaller handle and is more comfortable to wear. Well the external part is. Overall the internal part is very comfortable... just big.

It was decided that if the MEO's are going to be used more frequently, or if the 2.0 Njoy is going to be utilised, then the monster is sort of a gradual transition. So in it was popped for the night. At one stage there it was trying to worm its way persistently deeper into the arse. There is a hazy memory of reaching around there and trying to pull it free, only to have it snatched back out of the hand by that greedy little sphincter. Sighs sometimes everything conspires against you... even yourself L

Needless to say it was a relief to wake up in the morning and remove it for a few blessed moments. Well until He came along and took advantage of the complete lack of defence. Though He was very gentle as he forced his way into the abraded hole, and one was equally sincere when one said thank you Master after he came. See one small slave is capable of gratitude... it just needs an equal amount of kindness to inspire it J

Permanent plug in action

Like a super trouper

It is a little known fact that this country is obsessed with ABBA. Now there are some cultural clues; movies like "Muriel's Wedding" and the fact that there are probably more tribute bands per capita than any other place in the world being two of them. Growing up as a child they were huge. Something that country seemed to let go of unlike this one.

Nevertheless growing up there was always heated debate about who the best singer was and who the most attractive member was. Most people used to come down on the side of Agnetha for the female lead and Bjorn out of the men. Personally one preferred Frida and thought he looked like a small monkey. Sighs... see one was never going to be great at the whole straight sexual thing... even at that age. Mind you one was sleeping with a girl friend at the time so... anyway back to ABBA.

So while one was curled up on the bed listening to Max they had one of those quickie countdown things on with ABBA as the featured band. Wandering in He pointed out that "Waterloo" was voted as the perfect piece of music by some group who know about that sort of stuff. Mind you if you have ever read Cannon literatures you will understand those people don't always know as much as people like to think. Having dropped that little gem of knowledge He wandered back out leaving one with Super Trouper.

This was the ultimate act of sadism because several days later one is still humming it in the mind. It is like a virus that you can't shake off. It keeps coming back for another stab at you when you think you are finally free of the damn thing. A fact that one was bemoaning to Him over breakfast L

You know what it's about don't you, He asked in that smug Scorpio know it all voice.

It's actually about something?

A super trouper is the name of those big single spotlights He replied

Ohhh... OMG those inane lyrics actually make sense. 

Not that the knowledge will get the song out of your head, though it may help ease the pain if you know that those sorts of songs are known as earworms J

Be the best you can be

While convalescing we caught up with some TV... shows we follow but wait until we have a season of and shows we just caught randomly. One of those was "Louis Theroux: Under the knife" and his exploration of plastic surgery. Now as a presenter he brings in a lot of personal bias... well it is his world view that we are seeing. To be honest one suspects this particular episode could have been more interesting if there had been a few before shots, as well as the (in a couple of cases) slightly freakish end results.

In spite of this flaw it made for engaging TV. It was not the reasons why people throw themselves under the knife or the graphic footage... be warned should you ever catch the episode... or even the end results that made it thought provoking. To be honest it was one's own reactions to the whole thing that was the surprise. Seriously INTJ's don't usually have much of an emotional response to things...

Generally one has no issue with the idea of plastic surgery. Apart from that whole feeling of revulsion that sharpies and pointies generally... OK squeamish is the word for the day here... engender of course. Would one ever do it? Probably not. And after watching that one would have to say one was even less inclined... there is a reason one avoids medical shows L

Yes it would be nice to have more perk in the breasts, but dammit they are F cups. Perk is just not going to happen naturally. Would one want to have nipples removed, repositioned and replaced to achieve it? Umm... no. Those nipples are a great source of erotic pleasure. Something they wouldn't be after that... anyway one digresses.

What really disturbed one was the women who underwent the procedures because her on again off again partner, and at one stage fiancée, had gone again. She wanted to be better... she wanted a fresh start; all admirable goals under the circumstances. Ones that were being actively encouraged by her rather expensive personal stylist. So off she trotted, at great personal expense, to be the best she could be...

The end result was pretty good... she didn't look too freakish or unnatural.... though one suspects that if her personal stylist had been less pro surgery and more work with what we have, the results could have been just as good. Though, as the stylist pointed out, she wouldn't have looked as good when naked. Anyway that little niggle aside... the disturbing bit was the re-emergence of the boyfriend. Who took one look at her and graciously accepted her back. And she seemed thrilled... and off they skipped into the sunset.

That was disturbing... even more disturbing than the surgery, but for different reasons. See one can't imagine why you would want him back. No one is that good in bed surely? Why would you want to give someone another go when they have proved to be that feckless and shallow? He's had eight years to step up... why give him the honour now? You know what he is like, he hasn't changed, and he obviously hasn't become a better person...

Now one small slave lives with someone who likes to tweak the image, girl it up and generally do a bit of a Pygmalion on her. But He has never, ever, made one feel that inadequate in any way. He accepts the body the way it is and loves it unconditionally. In fact He prefers it naked... or at least heading in that direction... in spite of all its little imperfections.

See the surprise of that show was not being made to feel slightly creeped out. The surprise was that it made one feel incredibly grateful for the wonderful person who owns one's arse. It would seem He has a rare gift. He can make a woman feel beautiful... and that is priceless. 

Wanachi multi

The Wanachi multi is another pipedream product that has been released as they move into the market with an increasing amount of assertiveness. Designed as an answer to the Hitachi wand, it makes for an interesting product to try. Mainly because it answered some of the issues that the wand has... hey no toys are perfect. Rather than just making a clone they have made a product that stands on its own.

The Pros:

• Waterproof
• Multi-speed; it has nine functions
• Silicone that is phthalate free
• Flexible head
• Much lighter as it is powered by batteries
• It can be used anywhere as there is no power chord
• It doesn't have as much power, so for those that find the Hitachi Wand too much this is a softer option.
• Comes with a couple of heads that are clones of the Hitachi
• Small enough to be insertable
• Easy to clean

The Cons:

• It is noisy... but then so is the Hitachi Wand
• It doesn't have as much power which means you can ignore its sensation, unlike the Hitachi which gives no such option
• Battery operated... yeah always keep spares... bad things happen to those who aren't prepared

All in all they have made a good product that is well worth the money... and the time.

Sun, sand and sex shops

We set off in blazing sunshine and cloudless blue skies to go the coast for coffee. To be honest getting ready was a primer for the nap one took on the trip there. Hey it's a skill... and one has never ever arrived at a destination anything other than fresh as a daisy... engines must change as they reach their destination because 5-10 minutes before arriving up one pops J Of course it makes one a lousy travel companion, but no system is perfect... anyway one digresses as always.

We actually went there to meet someone from Fet which is always an interesting thing to do. Sometimes they are just like you imagined, and sometimes they are an unknown quality. In this case we met a charming man who was bright, articulate and with a wicked sense of humour. So it turned into an indolent coffee and cake thing, overlooking this fabulous view, and a promise to do this again. See he is a keen photographer too... this isn't going to end well for one small slave is it? L

Anyway while we were there we explored the local sex shop. As a rule the Totally Adult shops are far too naughty nice girl for our tastes, but the one at Caloundra was a bit different... judging by the haul He trotted out with. The staff was fabulously helpful and funny... and friendly. So if you are ever up that way take five minutes to drop in there.

One of the smaller things that followed us home was a Wanachi... which one will write about after breakfast. So there is more to come for the day... this was just a primer J

We had such plans

This holiday was started with such plans and trepidations... mainly due to His plans. Now as we near the end, with just one week to go, it is safe to say things didn't quite work out. Well not the way that was intended at any rate. See we both found out who is really in charge in this relationship... He might be the boss of one small slave, but even he bends to a greater authority. Err... that would be our bodies people, not some faceless deity.

The foot surgery has taken more recovery time than anticipated. Mostly due to anaesthetics one suspects. Well that combined with age. There is something slightly humiliating about needing a three hour nap each day, particularly when you were out cold by 10 ish the night before L

There has also been the added complication that the follow up visit that was supposed to be done in ten days after the surgery... Oh sorry...  we can get you in umm... well a fortnight from now. That isn't good enough... will be back at work by then and can't get a bloody shoe on with all this bandage. Oh... we'll call you back. Guess who had to chase their arses down... and the outcome? Two days before one is due to go back they can squeeze one in just before nine.

It means that the entire holiday has been spent with a huge bandage stuck on the foot, having to bag the damn thing every time one wants a shower, no shoes (which makes going anywhere damned difficult), and a foot that is going to have very little time to regain the flexibility it is going to need to be able to walk around. See the sad fact is with it all taped and strapped up... the gait isn't exactly natural. The ankle that was sprained can bear testament to that... it is a sore as buggery by the time one drifts off at night from all the extra work it is doing.

Meanwhile He, poor little trooper that he is, has been bearing the lion share of all things domestic... something that is not a natural state at all. May one just take a moment to say how fabulous He has been. Not only has He been quite creative in the kitchen, but he has actually cleaned up afterwards. Which any domestic person can tell you is a drag when you are cranking out three meals a day. Particularly while on holiday... for some reason housework doesn't seem to take time off.

All of this has been done with the double burden of being as sick as a dog. Unfortunately the Metformin has kicked Him in the arse brutally and relentlessly. Worst of all He has stopped losing weight altogether on it, rather than having the accelerated loss that it is supposed to do while bringing your blood sugar levels down. It has been so bad that He has decided to stop taking it for a couple of weeks and see what happens.

So here we are... tired, beaten by our bodies and wondering how in the fuck we have ended up having less sex than we manage to squeeze in during a working week. This has been some holiday. One we are sure to remember... even if it doesn't have a thousand pictures to commemorate it L

Redefining fun

When sniffing through His inbox you come across things that look scary more often than not. Just occasionally you find the odd thing that looks like fun... 'cos we all know that red goes faster  J

Deviant Outlets

To the right of the page is a list of people whose services we have used, in some cases for years, without hassles of any kind. In the age of the online retailer it is often a bit of a crap shoot when you order things, so one thought these guys should get a special mention for outstanding service. If you can get things from half way around the world, often with more than one postal system involved, in a speedy manner you are ahead of the race. To actually get the right thing in one piece under these circumstances is nothing short of miraculous.

On that list are companies like Downunder Toys who are the go to people in Australia if you want to get a Magic Wand clone that is compatible with our power. After trying for ages to get Hitachi to come to the party they gave up and created one of their own. And having both one can say they are damned close... the Medisil Wand does the job just as well. They are also a great place to get a transformer for all those American toys that require a power source. We have had one of theirs for a while now and have never had any problems.

House of Collars has provided us with two collars over the years now. They are fast, efficient, inexpensive and have a good range of sizes including half sizes. See the sad truth is we change body shape, and if your slave exercises the chances are you are going to need more than one collar over time. It is something to think about before you rush out and buy that expensive custom made one of a kind collar... Mind you if you do then you can't beat Vad Farkas at Ring of Steel. He has done a lot of work for friends over the years and there has never been an issue, as his workmanship and service is superb.

The rest... well they have been well documented here in the 10 months this blog has been going, so they need no further introduction J

128 Rules...

Or one man's desire to become known as a dick... you decide.

For many years there has been the 128 Rules floating around. They have changed names over the years; 128 Basic Slave Rules, 128 Rules for Female Slaves etc, but the rules themselves haven't changed that much. Though it is worth noting that there has been more and more disclaimers added over time. That and handy guides about how to interpret and read them... oddly enough none of which include instructions on how to stop giggling, but that is neither here nor there for the moment.

When we started out many moons ago we came across the slave rules the same way most do... by accident. Reading through them one was at first disconcerted and then amused. They were obviously written by someone out to have a laugh...

"The eating of my Master's cum will be counted as one of my meals."

That had to be a joke right? We have sex three times a day sometimes... at that rate one was never going to get a square meal ever again. Of course he does have another rule stating the importance of carbohydrates as part of a balanced diet... maybe Master could cum on a slice of bread :)

" i must never tighten my body when it is being whipped, caned, cropped, slapped, paddled, belted, strapped, spanked, bullwhipped, signal whipped, or anally or vaginally pumped." 

Yeah still trying to figure that one out... maybe one just isn't enough of a pain slut. The idea of half that stuff makes one cringe, even before it gets used on one's naked flesh.

"i may use a towel to dry off, but in my Master's house - only His whip shall be used to dry me"

Well that is just disturbing 'cos round here there isn't room to swing a whip and our tiles are slippery when wet. That rule is just potentially downright dangerous... especially to someone who likes to shower twice a day.

Needless to say those rules were passed over rather hurriedly by both of us... You know in hindsight one suspects it was the idea of being licked dry (another handy rule) that sealed the deal for Him. Probably that, and the thought of listening to one small slave whine about being hungry for the next few years. Anyway, as you do with things on the net, it was forgotten for some years except as an internet prank.

So it was with great surprise that during the course of a thread on the validity of such rules in an O/p relationship, that the author himself decloaked in our midst. Even more surprising was that the man was quite serious about his rules, and was shocked that no one wanted to acknowledge his obvious great gift to us. Needless to say it got ugly... See that is the trouble with gifts generally, they set up these expectations of gratitude and let's be honest... no one likes socks that much.

Make no mistake one suspects those rules were written originally with the intent to help. There was so little written for M/s people and along he came with this simple idea... write down some rules. The trouble is when you set things up as rules and write them in an authoritative, absolutist manner using language like you must, will, only... and then start prefacing them with instructions to read them out loud softly in a quiet place and memorise them, you can't then claim they are only hints or suggestions in the next breath when people start to question your authority or validity.

It is one of those either or things. They are rules or they are suggestions. You can't have it each way, any more than you can defend your writing all over the net in a rude aggressive manner, without it being at the cost of whatever respect you may have garnered over the years. See the sad thing is those rules have gained him a measure of public exposure and recognition, and a following. He is X who wrote the 128 Slave Rules.

He is a public figure because of them, and as time has gone on he has received as much criticism as adulation for those rules. Not because they are stupid, but because he has set them up as an authoritative source in absolutist language, rather than something fun to try. There are copies of them all over the net, on web sites and on blogs, and they have come under a lot of scrutiny. Now rather than consider that some of the detractors might have had some valid points, he has become personally invested in defending them.

Rather than reading the thread in the group and going oh... they don't think it's valid for their lives... whatevs... He strode in and berated people for not coming up with something better, which utterly ignored the fact that our group members are somewhat counterculture in their leanings, and unlikely to look favourably upon lists of rules of any kind, regardless of whom wrote them. He then finished off his little visit by telling some members that they obviously weren't at that stage of submission yet.

Yeah gotta say no we are not and you know something? That's OK... whatevs and all that :)

Burgundy ambition

Until today the act of showering, shaving and shampooing was enough to send one back to bed for breakfast and a three hour nap. It's what the body does when it is recovering... cellular regeneration happens when we are asleep. Besides that took up any precious reserves of energy the body had lying around. Today was going to be different. 

One small slave was going to tackle restoring the laundry cupboard, which had to be emptied for the plumbers, to its former... well... stuffed to the gills state. See Ratty from "Wind in the Willows" is a personal hero. That rat had a pantry for all occasions and one does try to emulate his wisdom... it just extends to all types of pantries including laundry/ bathroom supplies. So it seemed simple enough, curl up on the floor and put stuff back. Master said yes... for a change... and went out to get lunch.

Of course He left the back door open and the cat made a run for the bed so one had to field that. The process involved moving the crates of laundry stuff, while clutching the vile, wriggling beast and balancing on one foot. This left one tired enough to retire to a chair for a few minutes to recover. Fortified, one hobbled back to the laundry to tackle the cupboard, which now seemed much larger than one remembered.

Of course as one peered in it the realisation dawned that it would have to be cleaned first... so off one toddled to get cleaners and do the job. This left one in need of another sit down before one could sit down and actually do the job. Happily sorting through the crates, yes the love of order and neatness is an affliction, but one that gives some of us a simple pleasure, one happened upon His water gun. That was put to one side... well back in the crate.

Coming in through the door He spied it and said I see you've thrown out my gun.

No, just put it on the consideration pile. If you can come up with two good reasons to keep it... the voice trailed off there. Hey one of the things being in sales teaches you is how to apply pressure J

Fine, He said if I want to play predator and prey I will need it. It will also come in handy if our enema equipment is dirty. 

Now you have to imagine these reasons accompanied by those wonderful little pantomimes He does so well. 

Standing there one was less than convinced, after all we have more different types of enema equipment than the average hospital. Keep it if you want one said hobbling back to bed.

As He came past the bedroom, heading towards the rubbish bins with the rejects, he had the water gun in his hand. Are you going to get rid of it one asked?

Yes, I think I will. There are so many better ones on the market now and I think I might upgrade it for something with more reach. It might be fun to chase you round the yard with it... or better still the pool yard.

You know shooting rats in a barrel came to mind L

Collared

Since the night before the operation the collar has been off. Whee... OK you probably aren't meant cry free, free at last, when your collar comes off, but our uneasy relationship has been documented before. So it was without enthusiasm one greeted its proposed return today. Yes, yes, bad slave... hangs head contritely.

Seeing the reluctance He said so you're ready for the brand.

Brand, what brand?

Well the one that permanently marks you He replied.

Did we just skip a step here? How did we go from collar to brand? Oh this is because one was less than enthusiastic about the tattoo idea wasn't it?

Well your reluctance did indicate to me that you didn't think it was enough as a mark of ownership, He replied.

That was because you want to get "all deliveries at rear"... tattooed round one's arsehole. You just do this shit to make your original idea seem to be the most reasonable one by comparison. Don't think one doesn't see your little Jedi mind tricks.

So it was under these coercive tactics that the collar was put back on... along with the Njoy. There is nothing like the combined weight of steel slapped around your neck and shoved up your arse to remind you that someone other than your good self is in charge. Well that and the slightly maniacal gleam in His eye...

You know, one thinks that maybe the recovery phase is coming to an end...

Permanent plugs revisited

The plumbers were farting around all day yesterday. Trooping in and out, traipsing mud and god knows what else all over the place. It made nap time very fraught... and a girl needs naps, preferably a solid three hours late morning is ideal. Water was turned on and off, there was noise and confusion... OK that bit occurred because three of them turned up that morning, but one of them wasn't supposed to be there as he came from another company... one digresses.

So this morning all one looked forward to was a nice long, uninterrupted shower, rather than the hurried event one got yesterday at some ungodly hour. After securely taping the bag on to protect the bandages... make note to self; we are going to have to find a way to shave the legs as the tape is going to hurt like a bitch when it is removed... off one hobbled to the bathroom. To find a new addition had been installed while one was couched...

That extra hose you see is for the permanent/ enema plug. It seems He had the plumbers do a little extra job while they were here. See the problem is although the plug/ enema combo is easy to use, all you have to do is remove the shower head, whack on the connector and screw on the plug, it isn't that easy to do when everything is covered in silicone lube. They become slippery little suckers and you end up with water spurting out all over the place. There is a reason people like Crisco; it comes off with soapy water unlike the lube. Not to mention you freeze your arse off while in a shower where all the water is being directed elsewhere L

Now this is where one is going to address a question from one of the readers. It is also where the more squeamish stop reading.

Off you go...

Shoo.

Angel Leslie asks...

"... can you go to the bathroom regular or do you have to use an enema while wearing (a permanent plug)?"

The answer is long and complicated so one thought it would be easier to put it here J

This depends on some variables... diet, stool size and plug size would be the main ones. With some of the large butt plugs like the MEO's it is likely that you wouldn't need an enema, but if your diet is bad it could be messy. Ideally you would want nice soft stools (that come from a good diet and plenty of water) that pass out cleanly and are not too large.

For this kind of permanent plug (or the small MEO's) you would probably need to use an enema.

Do stop reading here if you are the squeamish type who is still peeking...

Now the advantage of this type of plug is that you can just take out the core and replace it with the enema attachment. The thing is though generally these types of plugs work best if you have a wet room or at least a well tiled area because the minute you detach the hose, you are going to get spillage. Now some people find that deliciously humiliating and others find the idea of shit just repugnant... on all levels. That is one of the things you are going to have to decide for yourself.

If you do decide you don't want to deal with the realities then you are better off using the Njoy or Rosebud  butt plugs, removing them discretely to go to the toilet and reinserting them afterwards.

Personally one thinks that you can't have anal on a regular basis, mess around with enemas or plugs in general without encountering shit at some stage. It's no biggie unless you make it one. The Njoys are easier, the other types are fun... both have advantages and disadvantages which is why we have several types. With more to come... L

Proof

Caught in its natural habitat, the rare and elusive Homo Domesticus. Normally shy and retiring, but prone to unexpected aggression when exposed to a camera flash, it was caught with a great deal of stealth and no small amount of danger to the intrepid photographer.

Gods is He going to regret insisting that one get a smart phone with very good camera and video capabilities ;)

The day of firsts

Well this morning the only thing that hurt was the bloody throat. That's right they cut out the Morton's neuroma, which according to the doctor was so large it almost sprang out in its efforts to escape the confines of the foot, and the only thing that is sore is the throat. Meanwhile the neuroma is away being biopsied just in case and the doctor is amazed that one could walk at all. So here we are convalescing...

Yeah, this redefines tedious for the record. We were on the couch and He turns with a knowing smile and says are you bored yet? Oh hell yes. He laughed. The bastard!

Mind you there were some interesting moments...

He went out the other day and bought himself a food processor, with the perfectly logical excuse that all of the recipe books seemed to assume you have one. Now some of us have coped without one for the last 40 odd years of cooking, but who is one to deny a man his first kitchen appliance... especially when He is paying for it. And what did He make with his new toy you may be wondering? Breadcrumbs, He made breadcrumbs.

See the sad truth is that due to assorted little allergies most of our food has to be made from scratch. It is the only way you can control what is in the damn stuff. It means that convenience food is not found in our freezer very often... nor eaten for that matter. On the bright side it does mean that although the food is time consuming, it is very fresh and tasty.

He then proceeded to make veal stuffed with ham, mustard and Swiss cheese, and rolled up, crumbed and sautéed in butter. This dish has some very posh sounding name in French, though the cook book is too far away to hobble to, but essentially they are a version of a veal roulade. Now He did get a bit of a hand with those ... it was the first meal we have ever made together... because they are fiddly to make. As He discovered when he crumbed not only his veal, but most of his fingers. He looked like a cat when they get their paws wet J

They were unbelievably tasty too... and as one snuggled up to Him after dinner one made an interesting discovery. Being fed makes one feel exactly like being well fucked. That is to say affectionate, sated and relaxed. It would seem that Hobbit might have been right, at heart one is an alley cat, you just need a saucer of cream. 

Scalpels on the horizon

Well here one is mooching around, trying to take the mind off the impending hospital visit. See one is quite calm and relaxed about the whole thing... providing one doesn't think about it. The minute one starts to think about the foot operation the queasiness starts. Not thinking about it is a brilliant system that works well.

Well it would if one didn't have to fill out forms in triplicate and wash oneself, once again, in vile smelling iodine wash. The stuff makes you think of hospitals immediately. It's that medicinal smell that they have... disinfectants over the smell of human fear and excrement. Oh and the whole nil by mouth thing since 7am is not helping either... not to mention cereal for breakfast.

Which wanker was responsible for decreeing that cereal was an adequate breakfast? Now there is someone who should have had a scalpel taken to them. The poor little tummy, which is used to protein rich fare, is grumbling its dissent. Meanwhile the rest of the body is fighting an urge to snooze from all those carbs being shovelled in like that.

Oh and there might be a small underlying caffeine deficiency as well... just a small one... glares at the gigglers.

So here we are in the world's smallest waiting room. OMG there is the strange guy from the gym... with his mother no less... playing his iPod so we can all share in his pleasant taste in noise. Gods that is so annoying and there he sits oblivious to the glares of those around him. There is one in every crowd... he's ours L

Oh gods they are going to dress one small slave in purple. The universe hates, hates, hates...oh... maybe it's just His co-conspirator.  That it! So not dying during surgery. To die in purple would just be the living end.

Starving! Would kill for coffee, steak and chips about now. Not necessarily in that order might one add. Oh their calling one's name... here we go.

Whee and one gets a red cap... cos they go faster. OK and there is that pesky latex issue... which is kinda complicated in a hospital. And here comes the man bearing sharp things and a charming bedside manner. And here is the doctor bearing another type of sharpie to draw on one... dear gods how big is the bloody incision. Ah now here comes the good stuff...

Someone is calling a name... oh that's right... don't hear that name very often. Why do they have to wake you up by shouting at you? Pain relief? Umm... paracetamol will be fine. And there we go back to sleep... analgesics always do that every time.

The eyes flutter open... no pain. But damn one would kill for a drink and a snack. Oh good they won't let you out until you have eaten. What, is the question? Oh yoghurt and cheese... yes please. Institutional tea... umm no thank you, water will be fine.

Home again... dinner? Yes one knows the instructions said a light meal, but it's been nearly 12 hours. Dammit don't make a girl beg. And yes one gets control of the remote... recovery phase remember? Err... no one doesn't have to put out for these privileges... in recovery. Wonders idly how long that can be used... it's a sweet deal J

And the award...

For illogical behaviour goes to...

The local council

Again

As one has mentioned before our local council is in the process of improving our environment with a massive amount of concrete. The progress in reaching this goal is long, slow and very messy. Not to mention dangerous... more than one of our local citizens is sporting some nifty bandage work courtesy of this upgrade. They will not be compensated for their medical issues though, as the council has done its duty in posting signs everywhere extolling people to watch their step L

Just when you think the end is near they find yet another section to rip up. Not that they have actually completed the sections they are currently working on of course because that is completely counterintuitive. As time goes by though, you can see the bones of their master plan taking shape before your eyes. And as with so many master plans throughout history you can't but look at it with a jaundiced eye and think how did you get voted in?

See they are reducing the width of the roads to make generous foot paths for the cafes. Space which they will, no doubt, charge rent for... they aren't completely stupid. The trouble is to do this not only did they not put in the desperately needed parking, but they are actually going to have less of it. This is going to be a bit of a problem for the newly envisioned cafe society they have in mind one suspects.

These newly formed one way streets that are slowly taking shape will mean that the locals will be directed along the, admittedly scenic, waterfront road. Unlike those coming to the area who will be directed down the rather grimy back street...

and here's the kicker...

They will exit just before our local courthouse, police station and holding cells, where they will see some of our colourful denizens at their finest hour. To add insult to injury they will have gone past the cafes and the nonexistent parking.

Mind you it will be a while before most of this becomes a major issue. They are currently ripping up the front of the last of the struggling cafes and restaurants, thereby ensuring the last bit of local support dries up in dust and despair, and no doubt speeding up their demise. Which you have to admit is an inspired bit of town planning. Not only have they created a new beginning, but they have ensured a clean slate J

The art of scoring

You know one of the things one just adores about Fet is the ability to stalk around reading things and indulging in the favourite past time of people watching. See people are way more interesting to watch when they don't know they are being observed. They have no idea how bloody entertaining they are either... well to one who is cynically inclined. Take this week's little drama... one that is played out on a myriad of boards on any given week.

A sweet young thing, a regular damsel in distress, comes to a wise bunch of strangers with a little tale of woe. It seems her one twoo master hasn't spoken to her for some time... the vile beast. What should she do... she loves him so. Now people get on and giver her sage advice, point out in the nicest possible way that she has been abandoned and that no twoo master would treat her so. Of course some get on and tell her she is being a complete twit, but they are usually shushed by the kinder ones... she is obviously in pain, why make it worse.

Then along comes a special breed of master, one who is brave and strong. He proclaims loudly, with much chest thumping, that the other master is a cad... obviously... and that she deserves so much better. Peeping out at him through tear soaked lashes she murmurs really kind sir? Oh thank you for saying so. The fact that several women have just said the same thing repeatedly doesn't count... obviously.

The next thing you know the shy young maiden and the good master have become friends and so off the story goes... It is a tale as old as mankind and before. It is a tale of predator and prey. The only thing one isn't sure about exactly, is who is about to become lunch... 'cos the money isn't on the master J

Money talks

There was a wonderful... we are talking full on car crash type thread... going on over at Fet this week. It is all about money and the evils of joint finances... well other things too, including wastrel stay at home doms who are just pimps in disguise, but it was the joint finances thing that one wanted to touch on. See we are rather odd for a long term O/p M/s couple in that we don't have joint finances. This is just as well when one of us is perfecting the art of leaving the slave with the check at the end of the meal J

When we first got together we had separate everything including homes. This worked out well as His taste in clutter offended every monastic fibre of ones being... actually it still can at times, but that is a story for another time. Besides one was still involved financially with the ex, we still owned a joint home which she would not have been able to afford on her own and as only one of us wanted out of the relationship, it hardly seemed fair that she should suffer financially. Life is complicated sometimes... anyway one digresses...

When we sold the house and separated our finances, she was dying by this stage and we wanted her to have some fun with equity, one moved in full time with Him. One of the things we discussed was the issue of finances and we ended up keeping our rather hinky little system that worked for us. That was to say we paid our own way and split bills, and took turns on buying appliances as they were needed. It worked well... so why fix it.

About a year later we changed over to this style of relationship and again discussed finances and decided to leave them as they were. At the time we earned about the same so it wasn't a big deal either way. Of course fast forward a few years and one now earns about half of what He does and still pays half of everything... though He does pay for some entertainment and virtually all of the sex toys. It has meant that one is pretty much financially dependent on Him anyway... the food bill alone in this house is horrific... rather like the bill for sex toys J

This brings us back to the joint finances and the evils of that according to that thread. Now our group members, by and large, have been together a long time. Most of them do have shared finances or they are so intertwined they may as well be (like us), so most of us read that thread and go what is the big deal. It's a relationship... it will have ups and downs and sometimes you will have to financially support your partner... get over it. Which is completely at odds with those not in long term relationships, who were going get the hell away from our bank accounts.

The thing is though that for the younger people it is a big deal. They have grown up with the idea that a smart woman keeps a damned good eye on her bank account. It is probably the one sound bit of advice our generation ever gave them... even if they are too young to remember why it is important. See they seem to have gone from the feminist belief/ ideal that our mothers wanted equality and have adopted the idea that men are not to be trusted... which is the sad truth occasionally one must admit L

That pursuit of equality was why mother wanted a separate account, and it was a good time to want one as it turned out. See as a child of the 60's and 70's one can attest to how sensible that desire was. She was married to the step-father at the time, renovating a beautiful old farm house in a semi rural area, while working her arse off as a teacher. It was her home and he put it on the market without telling her. The first she knew about it was the real estate agent rocking up at the door.

In those days the husband could just go to a bank and do whatever he liked... refinance, mortgage, drain an account... put a house on the market without his spouses' signature. Oddly enough the women were less than impressed with this and they wanted change. And they wanted it now... because they knew they were not only were they now a disposable commodity (thanks to the advent of divorce (which is where mother and the step father headed shortly after that house incident)), but so was their security and the security of their children. In those days you could whistle Dixie for child support and the government agencies had even less ways to enforce it than they do now.

So one read that thread with interest (OK and the odd giggle) and while one can see it from our group members' point of view... there is a large part of one that goes... keep your money where you can get it. Until you know and trust them enough to hand it over. And gee it only took one ten odd cough, cough years to get to the point where one would hand over the finances in this relationship... what are a few years for someone new? But then one was a child of the 60's and had a twice divorced mother... which was a scandalous thing in that country at that time. Meh women in our family were always good at doing it wrong J

The domestic

They sat there talking quietly until he said something that set her off. It grew more animated as we drove along, spilling into hot, short words that bit back and forth as we neared the train station. As we pulled up he stood to leave, and she shot white hot angry words at his retreating back. He got off and looked around, seeming surprised that she hadn't followed him off the bus.

He stood there a moment... angry and nonplussed. Hesitating he paused, before striding back on the bus.

I'm not going with you. Piss off!

He left telling her to get off the bus. She sat there mute with rage before mouthing we're over at him through the glass, while he shouted at her to get off the fucking bus.

The bus started to pull out and realising that it was leaving with her on it, he charged at the bus in an impotent rage. The driver hauled arse... and we almost made it to the end of the platform before she got up like a whipped dog and asked the bus driver to let her off the bus, before slowly walking back to him...

I can't believe she got off exclaimed one passenger as we drove off. I hate travelling with those two exclaimed another. It always ends up in a fight. You're kidding pipped up someone else. Oh no that happens all the time. It's so bad you just try not to make eye contact in case they both turn on you. They deserve each other.

Conversations carried on back and forth in this manner, and the entire time one sat there wondering how people can ever confuse that with a BDSM relationship... 'cos they look nothing alike.

Dealing with the devil

He arrived home and while one was kneeling to remove his shoes, he amused himself by stroking and tugging one's hair. Though it hardly aids one's capacity to undo the double knots He favours, it is a sensation that one just adores. Almost as much as when He pressed one up against the kitchen bench, slid his fingers between very moist lips and nibbled at one's neck... but one digresses. See this isn't about His distraction techniques... more a tale about being careful about what you agree to do when you are in a post orgasmic haze.

Over breakfast He said now, I'm taking you to work? You are? He looked at one with a cunning glimmer crossing his eyes. Well I will, but you know the proviso. No root, no ride one parroted dutifully. That's the one He said, flashing white teeth.

Later after a few orgasms and in a state of bliss, one snuggled up next to Him sighing that there was no desire to go to work at all. That's OK, I so don't want to have to get up and drive you He retorted. So not an option one countered, reaching to peer at the clock to see what the time actually was. Hmm might be able to make the bus if one gets a move on. Oh, He said hopefully.

Scampering out the door one shot at Him, don't think one hasn't noticed that you broke the code. It makes up for all those times you've reneged, He retorted. It doesn't work like that... it's like sick leave. You can't accrue it. Actually I can He said smugly. But thank you, it will be nice to just go straight to bed.

He just had to rub it in.

Bastard!