Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Domestic dreariness

It was a day of it to be honest. Silly things like restringing the washing line. Nothing lasts forever in this climate and plastic coated anything is no exception. Of course as soon as the washing was hung out on the new line, it started to rain. It wasn't real rain, more a mist that you could smell and feel. There was enough however, that the washing had to be brought back in to the undercover line.

Apart from that it was hot, there was a low grade headache from the heat and a sore arse from yesterdays little endeavours. All in all it was a day spectacularly devoid of anything of interest. It happens in the best of households...
In fact it was so dull even the cat avoided us J

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Asking for it

How are you feeling He asked?
Those slave senses started to tingle...
Um... bloody sore. In fact the only thing that doesn't hurt is the arse. Seeing His eyes glimmer one hastened to add this part, clearly indicating gluteus maximus, medius and minimus with frantic hand signals.
I can fix that He replied.
See this is why we switched to verbal communication because hand signals are woefully inadequate for most. It is the only explanation for why He got it so wrong and spent the rest of the day trying to stuff large things in one's arse L 

Starting with the x-small and then the small (which is a lie) MEO in He moved to the medium (again a lie, there it is in the middle) and spent some considerable time trying to get it in there. The arse said no. Which was so frustrating... it was so close and it just wouldn't go any further. We did however try out a new lube called Man's Grease... OMG that stuff is so good for large toys.

So He switched tactics and started fisting the arse... and that was where things started to go a little wrong. . The Man's Grease just allowed the hand to slip in and out... it felt soooo good. It fact it felt a little too good because it was almost impossible to not orgasm. That was the thing He was trying to avoid because after one cums, the damn thing closes up tighter than any amphibian.

In a flash of inspiration He thought he would try out the glass toy on the right. It is a similar size to the medium MEO, but a different shape. Again it would only go so far... that last blue line to be precise. And then things went a little wrong. With an almighty shudder the body orgasmed and everything went no... including one small slave. 

So.... things we learnt;
  • Man's Grease is an awesome lube for big things
  • The arse can win a round
  • Man's Grease can make things very slippery for a while afterwards, though it does wash of toys and skin way better than silicone lube does
  • There is a sore spot between gluteus maximus, medius and minimus that has added yet another thing to the list of aches and pains L

Monday, November 28, 2011

Self torture... it's the new black

Today one boldly dragged one's very reluctant arse back into the gym. A glance at the programme made one realise it had been four months since spraining the ankle. To be honest one had no idea it was so long, and being good one didn't have at it hammer and tongs. Aiming for about two thirds of the programme and dropping the weights back seemed to go surprisingly well.

There were some other surprises too... the lungs were not as bad as one thought they would be, though it is going to be a while before one is running round the block. And it is so nice to use the X-Trainer without ever present foot pain. The biceps have taken on complete girl status... they are going to need some work done on them... and the triceps also presented some difficulty of a different kind. The body has got so used to compensating for the foot it had no idea what to do with the foot working again. It took a while to find a centre of gravity and... let's just say there is nothing elegant about hanging from a straight bar shall we and leave it at that? And no there aren't any pics so don't ask.

Now as the end of the day draws near one is aware of a couple of things. It has helped no end with the slow spiralling slide into depression, but then so did His home remedy.
And His treatment actually hurt less than this is going to...

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Selfishness continued...

The day started out unseasonably hot, so much so that the morning medicinal cum injection was administered in the shower. Well it started there... it was one of those times that we all have during sex... they zig while you zag. In this case His arse kept colliding with the shower door, while one small slave's breast kept getting mashed up against the glass wall. It ended when one was ordered into the bedroom and unceremoniously shoved arse up on the bed while He finished off. In fact it was how one was left as He wandered off to do other things.

That was just mean He said emerging from the study
What was?
What you wrote. I'm not selfish... just focused.
Umm... you mean self absorbed...
I prefer focused
... on your own needs
We went to breakfast squabbling playfully over His misuse of the English language.

Hours later, having been picked up from work, we were huddled in the bedroom with the air-con on catching up on Chuck. The evening was so warm we actually carted our dinner and desert in there, and even with the air-con on our ice-cream was only just firm. It hit 34C (about 94F for our American friends) today with humidity in the region of about 83% and it is only spring L Afterwards, as one lay there thinking that ice-cream is better in winter while the cat battered the back door down to remind us its needs hadn't been attended to, He turned around and said well I think I'm done for the night.

How's your arse He said casually.
Are you asking how it is or are you asking if it has recovered from this morning's medicinal reaming?
Has it He replied.
No, since you are so interested in its wellbeing, it is a bit tender.
OK I'll use your cunt then.
Um... stuffed to the gills with dinner and feeling seriously unsexy here
Climb on I want to cum before I go to sleep.

So while feeling like a human fleshlight as one was slid up and down on His hard on with his hands firmly guiding one's hips, two thoughts scampered across the mind...
First that turning off the air-con before we started might have been an error on ones part and that...
He wasn't exactly making his case for unselfish behaviour at all...

Saturday, November 26, 2011

The importance of selfishness

On the face of it He makes selfish choices. They are often done with a casualness that is breathtaking, well to someone who was brought up with the idea that you always offer these things as a form of politeness. From drinking the last mouthful of anything, to asking what one wants to watch on TV and then ignoring it in favour of something He wants. All of the little acts that in an egalitarian relationship would conspire to drive someone not only insane, but mad with rage.

To be honest they have the same effect in this arrangement too... but... they also serve as little reminders that we are not in an egalitarian relationship. Subsequently what needs to change is not His behaviour, but one small slave's reaction to it...
This is where all that grace stuff one reads about comes into play.
Suppose violence is out of the question too...

Friday, November 25, 2011

A companion field guide to trolls

Chapter four:
Genus: Troll
Species: crudelis
Common name: The cruel troll or old snarky pants

This troll prefers groups with a high quota of new and occasionally, one must concede, stupid people. Perhaps a better term for them would be newpid... Either way the cruel troll will not usually be found in quiet little groups minding its own business... well not for long.

Life cycle:
Stage 1:
The cruel troll arrives and usually exhibits highly insightful observational skills. They often have the capacity to cut to the chase in few words because they are witty, bright, articulate and often well educated. In fact these talents often gain this troll a large following... well you have to admire skill whatever its form. The cruel troll is one of the few that actually has not only groupies, but groupies that form a posse... one that will willingly follow it into the fray.

Unlike many of the other trolls the cruel troll is very good at perception management. It will form relationships with people via memos to further its aims, and it will actively court those who might be useful to it in the future. Like many bright charismatic people, the cruel troll has excellent people skills. And it isn't afraid to use them.

Stage 2:
Adult developmental stage:
As time goes on though, those keen scrutinising skills are usually turned more frequently on other group members. The cruel troll exhibits less patience with those it considers inferior in some way as time goes on. Unfortunately it has no qualms about hurting the afflicted or about scoring points on those who are woefully unmatched. In some ways this troll is the biggest show pony of them all, as it plays to the audience and is never happier than in a large group for this reason.

Stage 3:
The metamorphosis:
The cruel troll is an unusual one in that the behaviour usually keeps escalating. In fact it is one of the troll clan that is most likely to be kicked out of groups and given time outs from sites generally. Mainly this occurs because they tend to cross the line from just vicious to slightly rabid behaviour. In some ways it is like they have no idea where the line is and just keep moving over it, until someone puts a halt to its behaviour.

When the inevitable removal happens, the fan base comes into play. They start lobbying the group and site owners to bring it back. Often the fans are quite unaware that not only have they been manipulated, but that they are giving the troll more pleasure than anyone should receive... no one needs that much validation.

Spotting the cruel troll:
Of all the trolls the cruel troll is the easiest to spot. They are always the mean fish in the big pond. In the beginning they may seem very bright... and say the things you wish you had the guts to say. The difference is that somewhere along the path they cross that line and just make you cringe... repeatedly. After a while it becomes apparent that they enjoy inflicting pain for the pleasure of it... theirs might one add.

Control and eradication:
If you have one of these in your midst the best thing to do is nip it in the bud. They are only going to escalate. Should you find yourself in a group with one do not encourage it... even a little... because once it knows it has a following it will only get worse. 

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Doctor in the house

Well He said, seeing as I am taking you to work we will have time for your medication. It comes in three forms; ingested orally, pessary or suppository.
Which do you recommend doctor?
Well suppository of course. Pessaries are effective, but can be messy a little later on.
That being the case one will bow to your wisdom...

This was how one spent part of the morning having a screaming orgasm with Him buried deep in one's arse, as he delivered a little mood altering cum.

Being a hedonist He turned around afterwards and said you could call in sick... It is grey outside we could watch a little crap TV, nibble on snacks, have more sex and go to sleep.
And truth to be told the offer was very tempting. Made all the more so by Him laying there stroking one in a most persuasive manner, might one add. Thinking about it one hesitated... torn between a natural wanton streak and the knowledge that work would be swamped without the extra set of hands. He turned on the charm... as only a Scorpio bent on getting his own way can.

That was how one found oneself floating along as He performed his oral magic. Well He asked are you going to stay at home with me? Suffused in the afterglow of another orgasm... that is the excuse one is sticking to... one replied no. And pointed out that as one had cum there seemed little need to stay. As the words slid out of one's mouth the world lurched to a grinding, uncertain stop...

Honestly it was the orgasms fault...

So one went to work... while remaining uncertain when one will be orgasming again... indeed if ever  L

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Life has got too full... and it has eaten all the things one likes to do. There is no time to chat to people, or go to the gym. Between His all consuming hobby which has bled across any free time one had, and fucked up shifts at work (that always happens at this time of year... yay Christmas) there is barely a skirret of time for one's self to think in, let alone do anything. It was so bad that last night one begged Him to go roleplaying alone. He said no.

Without the gym the depression is starting to come in waves... they roll across your psyche. All you want to do is sleep, but you can't. You wake up tired and it gets worse as the day goes on...

He wants pancakes stuffed with bacon (which has to be cooked) for breakfast, the cat is there working its own brand of intimidation, His mother wants a clock hung up, the shopping needs to be done, linen needs to be changed, the laundry needs to be redone thanks to His mothers insistence on planting lilies near the clothes line (forget about no wire hangers... it should be no flowers with stamens), the postie is honking his horn and one can't find anything to pull on, the dishes have soaked long enough and now need doing. All of it rubs and conspires to ensure there isn't five minutes alone, that isn't consumed with someone else's something.

Please stop the world... really need to get off

Of course we talked... and rejigged our time together to squeeze in some time for the gym.

And He ended up nailing one's arse to the bed... err not literally... to the point one begged him to please stop fucking it as the orgasm needed to end. It is a strange thing, but orgasms are like anything... even ice-cream. At some point you have to stop otherwise it starts to feel not so good, and ends up feeling bad if you persist.
The sex helps with the depression... for a while at least.

And tomorrow is another day...

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The path

It was a fucked up day full of nothing. In fact the highlight of it was discovering on Fet that for a master to attend master school, he needs to fulfil the following criteria:
  • Must be bigger than eight inches (apparently they measure you)
  • Must bring two bring at least 2 subservient women whom will perform for paying customers 
  • Must have money

All of this will graduate you with the title Domme...

To be honest one thinks that should get you the title of pimp, but not having attended slave school one is obviously confused.

Mind you it was such a slow day that one scampered in to inform Him he wasn't a twoo master.

Yeah not much happening at all, though one suspects Auntie might have been right... a fool and his money are soon parted L

Monday, November 21, 2011

Bridging the gap

This is dedicated to kaya and all those with Gephyrophobia...

We live on a peninsula... the only way to get off it to go to the south side of Brisbane is over several bridges. The first one is the Ted Smout Memorial Bridge, which at nearly 3km or 8, 990 feet long is the longest bridge in Australia and a reinforced concrete viaduct design. Its twin bride, the Houghton Highway, is now used for the return trip, though it wasn't that long ago that its three lanes were the only entry and exit from the area going in that direction.

Pic courtesy of the net
The second bridge, well bridges to be more accurate, is the far more impressive dual Gateways.  Now renamed the Leo Hielscher Bridges, not that anyone actually calls them that, they span the next leg of the journey and go across the river to what is known as Southside. Brisbane is rather odd in that it bisected by a long and winding river and has about 15 bridges of assorted designs that span it at various points.

Now some of you may be wondering what we were doing wandering so far and wide... Well, we thought we might make a quick trip to IKEA. Yes it is half way across town and about two hours drive along motorways and over two major bridges, and probably several smaller ones, but we have a very different perspective on distance here. We also thought that on the way we would fix the small issue with our Gateway tag.

To cross the gateway you have to pay a toll and it is done electronically. Of course ours hasn't worked since we got it, even though we had been reassured it would start magically working after a couple of trips. So off we went to their head office... where we were informed that the reason it wouldn't work was because our model of car has incompatible tinting. It seems there is an area of about two square inches around the mirror where it will work. With that sorted off we set... only to discover we were peckish and closeish to Sunnybank. OK miles across town in a different direction, but it is very good yum cha J

After finally making it to IKEA and shopping until we dropped, and our credit cards had assumed a foetal position, we wended our way back home. It was several hours later and pitch dark, when we pulled up back home to find this little guy sitting on the garage entry. Those with Ranidaphobia might like to look away now...

The Green Tree Frog with another interesting bit of trivia...
These are often kept as exotic pets and the biggest problem is that they can suffer from obesity. Now in captivity their food sources are similar to those in the wild and include the usual insects and what have you. They will also stretch to small mice. No wonder they get to be obese... sit around all day getting large meals delivered, what do you expect?

Sunday, November 20, 2011

A missed opportunity... and a plea

As one arrived at work one noticed a big Labrador sitting patiently in the line to see Santa. The first thought was that it was probably a guide dog in training (a lot of them are brought there for socialisation) and then one realised he was pretty big to be that, and there was no smart dog coat on. Then one noticed that his owner had reindeer antlers in his hand. Oh dear gods someone was taking their dog to see Santa...

Then more arrived, all fractious and excited, barking and yipping as they tugged and danced around on their leads. Looking at it one suddenly realised it was pet day. The day pet owners bring along their fur kids to have their picture taken with Santa. The owners had an assortment of elf hats, reindeer antlers and Santa hats... as if being stuck next to Santa and having you picture taken isn't humiliating enough... you are owned by someone who is going to stick you into a costume for the event.

Soon the line had stretched along as everyone waited impatiently, and all one could think was the Coffee Club must be thrilled at this and wonder which poor sod gets to clean the floor. Seriously what responsible pet owner would think that bringing their animal to a noisy shopping centre is a good idea? Let us not even dwell on why you would want to shove them in a hat for the occasion.

And then the thought crossed the mind that we had missed a wonderful opportunity...
We could have brought the cat. Not shoved it in an elf hat, after all one is homicidal not suicidal. He reckons it would be an each way bet... Santa or the cat. Santa does have a large sack... the cat might not make it J

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Nothing going on

Santa and his minions are still parked outside the door at work. For some reason he has taken to smiling and waving whenever one goes past...
Maybe Santas are like cats and can sense who doesn't like them. Cats will usually make a bee line for those types and go to great lengths to rub themselves all over their victim.

Perhaps one could sic the cat onto him... she bit a repairman who came the other day, as he knelt while undoing a screw. Surely the red suit should enrage it enough to do some serious damage. It might even take out the photographer and her damned squeaky toy (which she applies liberally to encourage small children to look at the camera) while it was at it...

And people wonder what goes through an INTJ's mind as we wander to the rest room J

Friday, November 18, 2011

Degrees of separation

One of the interesting things that has emerged from the VBA is how clicky and slightly incestuous we are. In some ways it shouldn't be a surprise. Some of us have hung out online for years, but following links around has made it very obvious how we band together. Most of us are linked by far less than the six degrees of separation that some theorists have postulated.

In the vastness of space we cluster together because although our relationships often have a gulf between them, we get each other on some level. We are the freaks who turn what is for many a fetish or an elaborate scene into a permanent power dynamic. It may flutter and wane occasionally as life tries to force itself upon us, but that dynamic will always rear up. Mostly because although some of us can do vanilla, we don't do it as well as we do this. Ultimately we are happier and more fulfilled when we aren't trying to squeeze ourselves into a power void in our relationships. Not that any of us would dream of doing that... cough, cough.

So here we are, a small flotilla of life rafts bumping and nudging each other in the blogosphere.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Out of the spotlight

He came home looking tired, spent breakfast trying to get the computer to behave... for the record computers are not submissive anymore than cats are... and then cleaning up images from the photo shoot on Monday. Meanwhile one pottered around feeling slightly resentful... it was Thursday morning. It's supposed to be our morning together... the last one we have until Sunday.

And sure enough right on cue He wandered out in the last fifteen minutes before one had to get ready for work for a little put me to sleep sex. 

Nothing says to a woman, regardless of the dynamic, that you are special quite as adequately as squeezing her in the last quarter of a day. Particularly a day when there is a standing arrangement to spend time together. A fact one did point out... you will notice those excellent communication skills... none of that passive aggressive shit and acting like nothing was wrong. See the thing is it is always a strange sensation when He is distracted like that. It's like someone has turned off the spotlight and you are left alone on the darkened stage... Of course this performer will ask what the fuck is up with the lights.

Of course He turned them back on...

We talked... about being too fried to do much more than what we were doing. It is strange but our lives are a mirror image at the moment... jobs where the staff is decreasing, but the work load isn't. It means that at times neither of us bring our A game to the relationship. This is something that we are both vigilant about. Hey even a relationship like ours doesn't survive without work... it's why we are still together after all this time.

Crawling across the couch for a hug one sort of ended up in an assisted ooops. That is to say one fell in His lap. Taking advantage of the position over His knee he proceeded to spank one with a less than gentle hand. He subdued the attempts to wriggle away with an arm and increased the rhythm. Protesting that one had only come across for a hug He replied this was a hug. Couldn't one feel His arms and the warmth?

To be honest one felt warmth of a different kind when He tossed one back on the couch and proceeded to perform some of that talented oral.

And there was even more warmth when He decided to finish off with a little anal without the benefit of lube of any kind... something He is too big for. That really made one squeak in protest... something He ignored. No sadistic tendencies there... oh no. It left one bleeding and has wrecked the damn thing for a couple of days is one's pick.

Dammit that spotlight needs a pink filter L

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

VBA is not a disease

Most chain letter type things are a pain in the arse. In fact the family were told outright, if anything bad happened it would be all their fault for sending that stuff to one's inbox, as there was no intent to ever pass it on. It took a few years, but finally they got the message and ceased and desisted on sending one heart warming burning little bits of spam.

Then along came Vixen4770... who completely ignored the unwritten rulz regarding such things. And the worst of it is one is going to have to give her a pass because it is in a good cause... you will so get yours Alice L

It seems that the Versatile Bloggers Award is a way to help spread the joy of your reading list and creates a little publicity for those quiet corners of the web. The idea is to thank the person who nominates you and link back to them in your post, share seven things about yourself, pass on the award to 15 bloggers that you enjoy and contact your nominees.

To be honest one isn't sure what you don't already know about one small slave so let's have a rummage...
  1. Hates wearing knickers with a passion
  2. Loves morning mouse with a ferocity that is well... almost an illness... certainly symptomatic of one
  3. Has a serious shoe problem... in fact one does an annual cull to keep the numbers down
  4. The favourite colour is not purple... it's red dammit!
  5. A bit geeky with a fondness for SciFi
  6. There is a weakness for strong tea and bacon butties
  7. Spends most of the time naked... even cooking the aforementioned bacon

Now there is a blog list of places one really enjoys. They are written either by people one knows from around the traps or have been places one has enjoyed quietly for a long time. Of course there is also a list of places one visits that are newer and often quieter that one slips off to when there is five minutes and a cup of coffee...
Now one has to sort them out and pare them down to 15... Yeah, thank you Vixen...

So in no particular order, which causes someone a tad anal a great deal of pain, the list of places you might like to read...

May you find something enjoyable J

Now as for contacting the nominees... that one might be a bit more fraught, but one will do what one can, though they may notice this when they slip in.
That being the case... Surprise!
You have been VBA'd
It's all Vixen's fault

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Run rabbit...

As some of you know one small slave is a reluctant model... completely camera phobic would be more honest. From the earliest age most shots are back shots as one escaped off into the distance, darted behind things or hid the minute a camera was pulled out. In fact one of the few family pics of one as a child is uncle on bended knee, with a grave faced child peering at the camera perched upon it, as auntie stood near us. What people don't see is uncle's arm clamped firmly around one's waist as he held on grimly. Hey difficult at any age... what can one say J

Of course because the universe is a spiteful malevolent humorous entity one ended up with a keen photographer and the running has come to a graceful halt. OK it is more that one is ordered into the studio and made to pose for the camera. Protestations that He has plenty of willing victims have fallen on deaf ears as has one's pitiful begging and pleading. For some reason He seems to like them not so willing... no sadistic tendencies there. Oh no... rolls eyes

The silly thing is that He does great work as you can see...

Even though you are never safe even when picking things up...

And He really enjoys taking the photos of one in a way he doesn't when photographing others... 'cos as one has mentioned there is nothing sexy about studio work. In fact He came all over one's immaculately made up face afterwards...

Um for those of you who use this blog as a how not to do stuff guide...
Cum in the eye... don't do it. It stings like a bitch and takes ages for the stinging to stop
Oh and mingled with heavy makeup makes it damned difficult to remove.
And He remains completely unapologetic for the incident... where is that damned slave union?

Monday, November 14, 2011

Just another day

Well while everyone was displaying some impressive pink bottoms over on Fet, one of us spent the day in a very different way. It was another photo shoot and somewhere between being makeup artiste and wardrobe mistress, one got elevated to oiler of models.
Yeah, for the record it is not as sexy as you would think L

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Purple all over

A friend on Fet has an owner who makes interesting looking paddles. Well He thought they were interesting, while one small slave thought they looked mean and scary... if rather beautiful. Unfortunately His opinion is the only one that counts and before you could say wink one was on Fetmail making enquiries. He particularly liked one make out of Purpleheart wood... and they were about to do a batch of them.

Today one got a little note to say they were just being oiled and enquiring how one was. For starters they are not topics that should be in the same email... 'cos not good any more is a natural response. In fact the first thing one said to Him was, you realise that hitting one with that purple paddle is going to undo all your hard work with the colour don't you?

Looking up He said well in that case I will just have to use the purple Tango at the same time... that way you will just be conflicted.


Sighs it was worth a try...

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Hell... on earth

He came marching along, preceded by a vanguard of elves liveried in bright red and green. All around him swirled jazz musicians, carollers and hordes of small, screaming children. With great pomp and ceremony he mounted the enormous sled and took up position on the red seat... no sitting on Santa's knee for this generation of boys and girls... oh no, they get to sit next to him. The photographers took up their stations and held back by only a gold coloured rope, the crowd formed an enormous, ragged queue that stretched across the doorways of most of the businesses in our arm of the shopping centre.

Then the noise really began as the jazz musicians clustering to pump out hearty refrains of assorted Christmas melodies linked by rifts of blaring sound. They were joined by the carollers who took up stations opposite to sing completely different songs. In between all of this chaos danced small, precocious girls in leotards and antlers. All the while small humans dressed as presents cavorted around with the Cat in the Hat.

Still a little unsure what he has to do with Christmas.

This was topped off by the hoards of screaming children and air-conditioning that cannot compete with the old style halogen lights in the shop.

So let us see...
  • Screaming... check
  • Carollers... check
  • Indifferent jazz... check
  • Christmas songs... check
  • An iconic figure dressed in red... check
  • Children... check
  • Horns... check
  • Incredible heat... check

Yep, hell has opened its portals L

Friday, November 11, 2011

Seeing as it is the 11/11/11

It seemed only appropriate that there be more eleven...


Lest we forget


Thursday, November 10, 2011


It seems today is Love Our Lurkers Day. You lucky things, you get a day devoted to you J

So one would like to take a moment to thank all you silent types... who traipse across the door on whisper quiet feet... for your continued lurking. It is a constant surprise that you not only find your way here, but keep coming back. Like many who start a blog this was never done with the idea that people would actually read it. This was meant to entertain Him... and a few friends. Some of whom get far more pleasure out of this than they should...

Thank you one and all. May you continue to enjoy and get the odd giggle J

Conspiracy theory

The day started with promise; woke early, felt OK... stumbled out for morning mouse. From that point on it careened pretty much downhill. No computer system and then the phone rang with the manager begging one to come into work early. Strangely the feeling of wellbeing evaporated... actually it disappeared in a fizz of annoyance.

Of course we had plans... meet and greet at the door and being whisked off to bed for a little old fashioned anal sex.

Instead He got breakfast/ dinner shoved in his direction and one flew out of the door to catch the bus. For a while there, given the track record of the last few days, one thought it was the universes way of saying stop doing housework. Upon review however, one is starting to think its saying stop making plans L

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

One year ago today

This blog was started by one small and somewhat reluctant slave at His behest. Now let us not dwell too long on the miracle that is remembering this anniversary... particularly given one's track record on those sorts of things... and let us concentrate on the surprises. And there are a few...

Firstly one has actually enjoyed writing this far more than one would have thought possible given that...
A) One firmly believes that things shouldn't be committed to paper that may be used against you later
B) Being more inclined to oration one has no great love of the written word and
C) Well a notoriously short attention span... ask any of the girls that sat patiently on one's doorstep while one dallied with someone else having completely forgotten about them and our date. Peers around furtively and whispers He is one's karma... nods it is the only explanation.

Yet here one is, day after day (OK that is a huge surprise in its own right) indulging in a delightful form of narcissism... a blog... and liking it. What was started as a thing to entertain and titillate Him, has sort of grown in some unexpected directions.  And oddly enough some of you seem to enjoy it too... though one suspects that some of you enjoy reading about that aforementioned karma coming to roost far more than is entirely healthy. You know who you are...

For the rest of you who just come to go OMG did that fit there... for you there is a special bonus. The Njoy Eleven...

... large end head first, so to speak J

And for Him, seeing as it is sort of an anniversary and that one tends to forget them... a special surprise, a onetime deal...

Master you were right.

Groans oh the pain that those words cause and the joy He will receive... which actually causes a different type of pain in its own right L

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Sharing... and its opposite

It was nippy the other evening and both of the t-shirts one likes to haul on in a hurry were in the wash. So what is a slave to do? Well being practical one grabbed one of His. Well He was asleep and unable to defend them.

Selecting a nice, soft, slightly worn item one slid it on and pottered around... until He got up.
He took one look and grumbled what are you doing in my shirt?
Umm... it was cold and the others were in the wash? It is just a loan one hastened to add.
Looking unconvinced by either the argument or the temporary nature of the arrangement, He delivered the lecture about the sanctity of his t-shirts.
For the record He has a double wardrobe full of them... rolls eyes... it's not like it's his last one.

Now this morning He had to take his mother to the heart specialist... so one had plans. Coffee, computer, catch up time and a little light housework... yeah one should have learnt by now L The morning started with promise... coffee, computer... and then the net and phone system crashed completely. Something it did again later in the day for the rest of the night... only they included the TV in the deal as well. And people wonder why we have two separate phone companies in the house... it's so you can phone up to complain about the other one.

So with crushed hopes one grabbed the t-shirt and started on the housework and laundry.
What are you doing in my t-shirt, was the first question out of His mouth when he saw one scamper by.
It's still the same one... not cleaned or anything... more of an extended loan.
That is how it starts. You steal them, He said and a harsh, accusatory tone.
OFFS that was one t-shirt, one time and it was years ago. Look at it this way, one is doing you a favour and stopping you looking disreputable.
It's all it takes... one dangerous precedent.

Later when He came home and was stretched out on the couch... fighting peak hour traffic will do that to you... he lifted his arms in a universal signal for a hug. Sliding on top of Him, one snuggled up... and felt him slowly lifting up the t-shirt. It was not in the least bit sexual. He was trying to get the t-shirt back.

Mind you one did get a bit of revenge... we had to go to a work related birthday function this evening. He got the pleasure of seeing one in real clothes and shoes.


In fact one even managed to get back into the first pair of high heels in a year.

And He got to sit across the table for hours of excruciating chit chat that was work related... though the girls had very kindly herded the men folk down one end of the table to chat amongst themselves. There is nothing like a work function to extract a little pay back J

Monday, November 7, 2011

He stole out...

Like a thief in the night. That is to say He tried several doors... none of them quiet, his sneakers made that sticking sound as he walked on the lino, he had trouble with the gate (several times) and then sat outside the bedroom window with the car running while he fiddled with the GPS. How is it possible for a man, with such quiet feet that He can sneak up on the one with radar like hearing, to make that much bloody noise exiting a building? Rolling over one peered at the clock resentfully, to find it was half an hour before one was due to actually get up to get ready for work. Sighing one gave up and got up.

He was supposed to spend the day here...

Shooting photos of a mermaid and so He waited...

Until it finally occurred to Him to check his phone... to find the shoot was cancelled due to the mermaids all too human condition. It seems in the flurry to sneak out of the house He forgot to check it before he left.

And although this is going to sound petty there was a small part of one that rejoiced in the knowledge we were both going to be miserable with a fucked up day...
See the secret of any long term relationship is shared experiences J
In fact that feeling lasted until one realised that He was going to be at home feeling miserable, while one small slave was going to be stuck at work.

Think one small slave might have won that round... one can tell because there is no feeling of victory at all L

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Sunday bloody Sunday... again

It's late in the evening and one small slave was thinking about showering, and other little ritualistic behaviours... most of them conducted in a horizontal position. Somewhat early might one add, as one is being dragged into work tomorrow to do an extra day. Wouldn't you know it one did have plans... He is leaving early to do a shoot up the coast and one small slave was planning a little lay in, coffee in bed, catching up with a net buddy, oh and some light housework so everything would be nice and clean when He got home. In fact one was even toying with the idea of a little shopping. All of that was laid to waste by staffing issues... other peoples might one add.

Anyway back to puttering around thinking about showers...

He says I need your packing skills.
Umm you usually consider them excessive.

As an aside laying the wardrobe out so you can check it is the best mix and match combo, with accessories, is a sensible approach if you want to maximise both flexibility and space. And everyone needs a packing list...preferably attached to the suitcase. How else are you going to mark things off so you don't forget them? Needless to say His packing looks like a slightly demented squirrel; a quick rifle through the wardrobe as a few t-shirts are tossed, along with an assortment of socks... what is it with that many socks?... onto the top of the neatly packed suitcase. Why this casual abandon you may be wondering? Well He is secure in the knowledge that one small slave has thought of everything else... like toiletries and shavers and, and, and...

They usually are He retorted, but in this case they are going to be handy
Perking with interest one hovered in the study door with dancing visions of artfully packed camera and equipment bags.

I need sun block.
Umm... do you think it might have been sensible to mention that while one was still at work?
Well we have some.
Yes, but do you even know where it is?
No, but I have you and you will know where it is.
Yes and it is right here... reaching out to the shelf nearby one checked the bottom for an expiry date... and you are in luck.

I need a hat
Looking at Him the interest started to wane... this is not the stuff of packing dreams... more a search and find mission. Moving into the study one picked up the hats.
Sounding exasperated He said I don't want those ones.
Of course not. Digging around in the recesses of the hall cupboard one found some older ones. Coming back in the room one enquired, which do you think says I know what I am doing more? H R Pufnstuf or Ren and Stimpy?
Looking less than enthusiastic He asked is that it?
Well they are your hats.

Standing there one desperately tried to keep a straight face as He tried them on... for the record it is very hard to takes someone wearing either hat very seriously.

I need a new hat He said somewhat mournfully.
Helpfully one handed over the others saying please don't even begin to try and suggest that the Jedi Training Academy hat is remotely...
He glared at one as he tried them on finally settling for ... not the Jedi hat one noticed, which was a shame as the shape suited him.

So there He is all packed...
And here one is... deeply disappointed on so many levels L

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Widening the aperture

There is a thread on the group about limiting outside influences... at least in the group you can have a discussion about that without a resounding chorus of red flags. Shutting your slave off from the outside world isn't necessarily a bad thing. At a simple level every one of us probably has a friend or family member who does not enrich our life... and some people are incapable of saying no and others get immersed in their drama. As one said, and has said before, isolation is not necessarily a bad thing.

The other advantage of cutting off contact with the outside world is that it focuses the attention on the owner. They become the sun and the moon... they are in effect the voice of your personal god. And if they are worthy of that is of course dependant on how well you chose. But that is something for another time...

Of course if the owner doesn't have a god complex and isn't quite so controlling, all that attention can be a bit much. Couple it with a slave who is a natural introvert... to the point of resenting having to go out once a week to friends (entertaining though they are)... even though one understands that friends are important (still a little hazy as to why, but no doubt that will be resolved in the fullness of time)... and it ends up with a little too much focus being shifted your way. That and an environmental control freak who actually likes getting into corners of the bathroom with a toothbrush. Or worse quilting and planning four course dinners... though at times when immersed in a quilt they may well come out of cans.

No, far better to send one small slave out to work for a few hours a week and let the public torture her for you.

Christmas cometh...
The tinsel is up
Santa is due to arrive
And soon the carols will begin L

Friday, November 4, 2011

A companion field guide to trolls

Chapter three:
Genus: Troll
Species: insons insontis
Common name: The innocent troll... otherwise known as what did I do?

The subject can be found at the centre of a definition debate... often one they have started. Usually under the guise of trying to find a definitive answer to the meaning of life as other people know it. The innocent troll prefers groups that have a mix of developmental stages for this reason... more experienced members because they are most likely to get annoyed with it and beginners to take its side.

Life cycle:
Stage 1:
The innocent troll usually arrives all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Usually young or worse young at heart, it settles in. Often its first foray into a group is starting up a thread that is almost guaranteed to make the inhabitants weep and gnash their teeth. Its first words are usually "what is the difference between..." or "I don't understand how...".

Stage 2:
Adult developmental stage:
From there on in it is usually a sharp downhill decent. When things have turned into definition hell, it can usually be found curled in a foetal position whimpering why are you so mean to me? That is its defence mechanism and it will assume that position any time it is threatened. Actually it will assume that position any time it thinks it might get some mileage out of it.

Stage 3:
The metamorphosis:
Unlike the familiar troll and the provocative troll, the innocent troll remains a perpetual adolescent. It doesn't evolve and seems content to practise its routine ad infinitum. At best it will change groups, but the nature of the questions never seem to change.

Spotting the innocent troll:
Always looking for others to spoon feed it answers the innocent troll has no qualms about playing stupid. It is interesting to note that this troll has no search function capabilities... always something to watch out for. In fact it does "a bit dense" better than the rest of the species. Also keep an eye out for anyone curled in a ball screaming and relying on the soft hearted to protect it. Chances are you are looking at an innocent troll in action. 

Control and eradication:
The minute you hear "what is the..." those words are your cue to walk quietly in the opposite direction. Move away smartly is the best one can offer. The innocent troll is equipped with sticky little feelers that allow it to cling to anyone getting too close. How else is it going to suck you into its definition hell? 

Thursday, November 3, 2011

As a reward for doing the makeup for the photo shoots, He decided to treat one to a chair more suitable to the job. Let us not dwell on the whole thing of positive rewards or how He is cunning and buys things that will further his aims, and let us dwell on the spirit of the gift. The idea was a chair that will raise the models up to a more convenient height and take the strain off one's back.

It arrived quietly last week and stayed in the breezeway because neither of us had time to unpack it. Of course on Tuesday morning He slipped out to assemble it, and we discovered the chair was badly damaged... and not the kind that can be fixed with a bit of glue. So we phoned the company, which is online, and lo their number was no longer available.
Little bells starting to tink away quietly.

So He did the next best thing and sent an email. This came back informing us they were unavailable...
You are all starting to feel a little cynical about now aren't you? J
... and giving another email address.

Contacting that address we were pleasantly surprised when they replied quite rapidly and asked for photos of the damage. 
Sending them off... we waited.
They got back to us later in the day and informed us another chair was on the way and to keep the damaged one. That was a relief because neither of us were enamoured with the idea of popping the damn thing back in its box or paying for the freight.

The new chair arrived safe and sound today.
So thank you redwrappings,  for excellent service and complaints resolution. 

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Soap and sodomy

With a headache that was reaching a crescendo one thought a little steamy shower would be very nice. For some reason the steam always clears the sinuses and relieves the head just for a little while. Of course when one scampered in there, He was already in possession of the shower and all the steam. So feeling frightfully brave, which as we all know is another word for stupid, one asked to join Him.

For the record when anyone opens a door that wide and has that kind of a gleam in their eyes... it is not going to end well. And this sad tale is no happier might one add...

Stepping in, He proceeded to wash one's back... gentle, rhythmic, massaging manoeuvres that completely lulled on into an unguarded state. And then He dropped the soap. And like a fool one bent over to pick it up. And gave it back to Him.... That right there was the foolish step, or maybe it was the bending over...

At any rate He proceeded to wash everything... very carefully. And His fingers did seem to keep accidently slipping into little crevices with alarming regularity. In fact it got to the point that one was forced to mention that much exploration was unnecessary. To which He replied that one was correct... what was needed was the right tool. One that would make everything all squeaky clean...
You squeak, I'll clean.

Sighs every one of them is a freaking comedian L

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

And what did you do today?

Well today was His birthday. It was one of those milestone ones that have a big fat zero on the end of it. So what did we do you may be wondering. Oddly enough it didn't involve a birthday beating... which was good 'cos He is starting to creep up there... into the land of oh hell that hurts.

No, we spent the day involved in another photo shoot. Actually there were meant to be two of them back to back, but only one turned up and it went all day. Then we had to scamper down the hallway to do His birthday dinner and presents. That was followed by scuttling out to roleplaying for the rest of the night.

See the secret of the distraction technique one outlined the other day is to keep them coming. Don't give them time to come up for air... or your arse J