The collar

There is a really funny thread going on over on Fet about how someone would feel about their ex owner's new slave was wearing their old collar. Dear gods that is complicated to follow isn't it? Anyway some of the points touched on are the fact that it's the master's collar, and subsequently his to do with as he pleases... and on and on it goes... right down to the idea that he is a cheap bastard. Most of it is nonsensical might one add.

See the problem is one doesn't get the whole collar thing at all and one speaks as a person sitting here looking at two that have been outgrown and with a third on its very slow way. A state that is entirely due to the postal system not the maker... just wanted to point that out. In fact one is sitting here waiting for it with rather mixed feelings.... mostly comprising of antipathy. On one hand there is the knowledge that the new one will fit better, weigh less and generally be more comfortable. On the other hand is the knowledge that if it doesn't arrive soon one is going to be stuffed back into the old one.

The trouble is all of that is balanced against the fact that one just isn't that thrilled about wearing a collar at all. They are hot, inconvenient, there is a whole collection of antique silver one can't wear 'cos of the damn thing... not to mention one gets to deal with idiots in the know on a daily basis at work. Meh the list goes on... but the bottom line is one would happily bequeath the damn things to anyone who wanted them... whether or not you are sleeping with Him. Not that one is actually allowed to do that. Tried it with the Njoy 2.0... several times... until He put his foot down L

In all of this there is the knowledge that most regard their collar as a huge symbol of something or other significant. It makes them feel something... owned, loved, cherished, acknowledged, worthy... the list goes on. And for the life of one... so don't get it at all. A collar is a practical thing for Him to grab one by... and a nifty way of torturing one small slave. He seems to derive no small pleasure seeing one stuck in the damn thing...

Sighs bad slave L

An ode to Freya

Swan vibrators: The trumpeter swan

A slender touch of perfection

We bought this quite a while ago... actually one small slave did... which might account for why it isn't enormous, lockable, steel or just plain scary to look at. And ever since that momentous event... it was the first time one has ever actually bought a sex toy... and one even managed to look past its neon pinkness... it has sat in its box due to lack of time. Well today was its day to shine or at least be charged up J

The pros:

• It is actually really quiet... not silent, but definitely discrete
• Waterproof... it can actually be used in a bath. Just imagine the possibilities, if you had a bath
• Silicone... what else with that pesky latex allergy
• Double ended with separate controls
• Has a press and hold feature so if you want more speed you just press down
• Rechargeable and has an easy to find water protected port
• Has its own transformer/ adaptors to make it suitable for travel 

The cons:

• It's pink
• Doesn't have any pulse mechanism so all you get is vibration... which isn't necessarily a bad thing 

Now what made one small slave scamper out and pay that much money for a sex toy you may be wondering...

Ah, well... it feels fabulous. From the velvety feel of the silicone to the curve that is completely ergonomic, it is a sex toy designed for a woman. It is light enough to not make the hand ache, but still has enough weight in the end that you aren't doing all the work. That long neck is flexible and the small head gets to all those interesting spots including the G-spot. The thick end is just a perfect size for insertion; while that narrow neck allows the muscles to grab onto it so it doesn't slide out of its own volition... you are getting the idea. In fact that shape makes the possibilities almost endless. 

Oh and that lack of pulse... honestly with a button you can just press down until you have the right amount of vibration.... oooooh.

Shall we say money well spent?

Pjur: Back door

Every so often people ask what kind of lube to use for the Njoys and anal sex in general. Without hesitation one always says Back Door by Pjur... it is the best thing one has found to date. Now if you are fisting or using enormous toys then something like Man's Grease or even Crisco is the best, but for long term, high friction situations like steel plugs or anal sex, you want something that is going to last and last.

The pros:

• Long lasting silicone
• Economical... a little goes a very long way
• Probably one of the thickest lubes found to date
• Has added jojoba extracts as an anal relaxant
• Condom safe

The cons:

• The pour top nature of the product means that eventually it ends up all over the bottle
• It makes everything slippery including that aforementioned bottle
• It is damned hard to get off things... including toys

Those issues are far outweighed by the pros. It even comes in a handy small size, that is perfect for tucking into a bag or pocket and allows you to take it with you everywhere. A small, but vital thing if you are going to take out or reinsert your Njoy for any reason... 

What not to wear

The sub-tropical storm edition

We are in the middle of the usual severe summer storm time at the moment. Out of nowhere the heavens open up with torrential rain, thunder and gale force winds... all of which combine to cause the twoo misery that is a sinus headache. Last night it cranked up the conditions and this morning there are branches all over the place and uprooted trees frantically being cleared away. The rivers are swollen and there is flash flooding that is causing havoc for many.

So...

A girl gets on the bus, sporting some rather spiffy snakeskin printed Wellington boots, quite sensible attire given the rain and enormous puddles everywhere. Short denim shorts... again sensible given that she had good legs and besides, just because it's raining doesn't mean it isn't as hot as hell. A fine knit jumper with short sleeves... why do companies produce those... nothing looks as incongruous as knits with short sleeves.  And last but not least, a bright green and yellow sombrero.

WTF?

It's blowing a gale.

The only thing that lurid fucker is going to do is garrotte you at the first chance. What on earth made you get up and think, today is sombrero wearing weather? Mind you it did make it very easy for the bus driver to spot her, so maybe it was more sensible than it would appear J

The return trip

We were lying in bed the other day... well it is the only place with air-con and that is the story we are sticking with... talking about some recent events. See we think of falling down the rabbit hole as sort of a one way trip. It is inconceivable to us that it might not be... after all these years we don't think in terms of leaving, more transmuting if the need ever arose. An event that makes us both uncomfortable because it would probably signify a major life changing event like illness... but less of that... shudders L

Luxuriating in the cool air, one languidly stretched and idly asked could you go back? To a nice little relationship of give and take... umm one where you get to do both, often in the same day?

Well if I had to... if it was because there was some need for us to do so.

Oh not us silly we will always survive... let's be honest, no one else would have us. No one meant if we ended... like full stop... never no more.

A strange and slightly guilty look passed across His whiskers... Probably not He replied.

It's probably a fair assessment... He's got very used to life on his terms. Mind you He always preferred life like that... who doesn't? But the urge to tinker with His partners was always there. It always ended badly... they hated Him for doing it. That is a thing one never got because most of the changes He tried to wrought were for their betterment... but that is a tale for another time.

Lying there one tried to calculate the odds of Him finding some nice, malleable girl... they weren't good odds at all. See He had such a laundry list last time he sent his desires into the universe. Seriously it was a long and very specific list, and it had some weird shit on it. Not kinky weird... more unusual in their specificity. Odd things like no close family ties... if you had met the ex's mother you would understand that one... but again one digresses.

See we are quite perfect for each other... though if one ever puts out a list again one is going to specify gender. Honestly, when one asked for a six foot blonde one thought is was understood they were going to be female... shakes head... life has a very warped sense of humour. No far better we stay together puddling around the rabbit hole...

Going down?

The return

They say the first day back after a holiday makes you feel like you were never away. Personally one is here to tell you that sensation started way earlier than that... from the minute one woke up... feeling tired and out of sorts on more sleep than the body had averaged all holiday. How does that work? Maybe the sensation of dread has some sort of a drag effect on time... but one digresses.

Now, one could tell you about the morning sex and heights of ecstasy... but one isn't going to do that. No, instead one is going to dwell on the sensation of being stuffed into a collar that is one size too small. What one won't do is try to articulate the pitiful choking sounds that one produced... mainly because there is no way to truly convey them... they were sort of guttural kkkkk sounds that we do not have words for at all in the English language. There is probably some cat out there that can do a perfect imitation, and probably the odd dog too...

And one was also going to gloss over His smirk as one did them. Though one did take a moment to point out that smirking was not the loving, supportive care that Fet was leading one to believe were not only mandatory, but utterly essential in a non abusive relationship.

He just smirked harder and then turned around and said it's all your own doing. Stop complaining.

Well! Hardly the caring attitude one was hoping for L

Seriously, it's bad enough He won't read books written by experts on this stuff, but his refusal to take time off work to attend the vital meeting and workshops that will stop him being regarded as some sort of a dangerous psycho... that is just a red flag to others. You know one does try and stop Him stepping into these obvious pitfalls that make him such a failure as a twoo master...

Bastard!

Ungrateful, uncaring bastard!

On the last day of freedom

As we settled back into the return to work rhythm there was both good and bad news. There was even an orgasm for one small slave. See when one says we haven't been having sex that isn't quite true. He's been having sex... there have been little drippy spots and sore spots to prove it... it's just that one has been the lucky cum repository, rather than a partner in the more accepted sense of the word.

So it wasn't too surprising, when He asked one to join him in the shower this morning that he wasn't asking to have his back washed. He was even generous, as he mashed one up against the tiles, in that he applied a liberal coating of soap as lube. Master is kind, Master is merciful, Master is a miserable fucker loving. In fact one even thanked Him dutifully, when he finished with a shuddering groan in one's arse.

What was a surprise was that later, when one asked for a lift to the gym, He took one to bed instead. Well yes it was close to time for Him to go and one is used for put me to sleep sex, but in this case it was not only a tad early, but he stopped playing Skyrim. He actually left his demonic horse to do it... seriously it was a huge sacrifice on his part. In fact as we lay there in a post coital haze He even offered to take one to the gym as well.

Now that may have been an act of pure cunning on His part. He knows one is inclined to be happy for him to drift off to sleep after sex. In fact after an orgasm like that, one was even inclined to almost forgive Him for his little act of bastardry during, well directly after, the aforementioned orgasm. It was all that forgiveness that led to Him rolling over to snore drift off to sleep, while the other one of us tottered out in the heat and humidity... to bludge a lift from His mother who decided to get her car washed.

And seriously one is never going to the gym in that time slot again... it was full of school children doing something or other that involved swarming all over the equipment and using in not only unsupervised manner, but with no clear idea of what they were doing. Looking around all one could think was the gym must have made their parents sign every waiver in the book... it was a lawyer's wet dream in there L

Oh and the bad news... the new collar hasn't arrived yet so one may be stuffed back into the old one. He thinks it is best if work doesn't realise the damn thing can actually come off... why give them ideas...

Delusions of another life

On Fet one does a lot of reading... not all of it for the purpose of learning. OK none of it is for the purpose of learning... just really, really nosey and on the phone for the long trip home J Sometimes one learns things by accident. One of those things is that words mean whatever you say they mean. The second is that peoples' ideas of reality have become very flexible since the advent of online communication.

There was a time on chat boards things would be prefaced with IRL, now that line seems to have become more blurred and fuzzy. People on Fet conduct huge chunks of their new relationships (before they actually meet up or moved in together) publicly via chats, journals and posts. And as a casual observer one can't help but wonder a couple of things...

The build up seems to be hot, intense and riddled with high expectations. What happens to these relationships when they move to real time? How can any relationship survive this level of intensity and slightly surreal beginning?  For that matter why would anyone want to start a relationship in this public a manner? Is this happening because we think of online friends exactly the same way as we do real life friends, and treat them the same way? If that is the case when did we start bombarding friends constantly with our thought of the moment and why would they put up with it?

The second thing that leads to more questions than answers is related to that idea that words mean whatever you think they means. The idea of calling yourself X even when you patently aren't is a prime example. Now, one can see why you would use the term in an ad or even meeting people, but to continue to call yourself something in the course of your communications seems to be deliberate obfuscation of the truth. Particularly when it appears that most of the experience in X that Y has is theoretical in nature or worse slightly fantastical.

This again leaves one to wonder some things...

Is this because the nature of reality on boards is so fuzzy that people go oh what the hell... we don't believe half of what people say anyway. Does this come about because people don't really need to believe in order to follow? Do people not actually need any experience in X to be called it and to be followed as some sort of a guru? Or are people so lonely that the endless chatter helps fill their lives and they don't bother to consider the source?

See one suspects part of the problem is that as a person one is just too literal and not much of a follower by nature. Most of this stuff is just nonsensical. In fact there has been more than the odd occasion that one has found oneself muttering use some critical thinking skills... and then wondering if we have lost those too. Sighs less and less of this stuff makes any sense as time goes on L

Klystra's Improved Dilators

One of the many things that toddled in with the Christmas orders was a set of rectal dilators from JTs Stockroom.

The implement:

Based on a set from the turn of the century this set has an added large (read enormous) one to help take things one step further. It comes in a lovely box that pays homage to an older style of packaging with its red insert and gold writing.

The pros:

• Made from heavy plastic.
• Easy to clean.
• Good shaped head for easy insertion.
• Smooth exterior.
• Has a lip to prevent it sliding in too far.
• Has a hole in the tip to vent gas and stop cramping 

The cons:

• As these are quite cheaply made the finish in the interior is quite rough.
• That lovely smooth shape means that you can't move when they are in, as they will just pop straight out... faster than they went in might one add.
• Made of ridged material these are not comfortable to move around or sit on.
• They could be worn with a harness, but that air hole means you vent gas... and the shape of it means the sound is amplified.
• Couldn't be worn in public... see above J 

The idea of these was to loosen things up for the MEO plugs... we are still stuck on trying to get the medium one in. Bloody marvellous the body will happily do a bat, but goes mmmffff mmmmffff at a perfectly nice MEO L Anyway back to these... As a toy they are quite adequate for the job of opening up the sphincter, but they do take longer than you would think.

We started way too late in the day, and it made for a very strange day too. It meant large periods of lying around making some very odd noises indeed. This was then bisected with dinner prep and cooking... which was almost a relief. It took about four hours all up to get to the enormous large one in. By that stage the arse was over it... in fact by the time He pulled out the medium MEO the arse just refused to cooperate altogether L

All in all they are a good idea... though they do take longer than you think you are going to need and there is little that you can do while you wait. No doubt one small slave is going to be spending another day with them in the future... maybe a movie marathon... with snacks J

Shoe porn

Today we went to the city... for what turned out to be a fizzer of a visit. It was us that was the problem not the area itself. Normally we get what each other means... like all long term couples we do speak the same language. Today it was like we were out of phase. 

It happens once in a while... usually when we aren't having sex. And as a Skyrim widow one can assure you we aren't having sex, mainly because we are keeping quite different schedules. Don't get one wrong we have both enjoyed our holiday in our own ways... no collar or plug and unfettered gym time, who could ask for more... and it is a state that will change shortly, but meanwhile... L

By the time we hit the last stop we managed to get on the same page enough to actually shop together. This is the Year of the Leopard and while one is strongly resisting the urge to become the cliché that is a middle aged woman swathed in leopard, one has nudged the edges of good taste with a few accessories J To that end these followed us home...

Wittner Zillion

Wittner Jagged

Now no prizes for guessing which one's He chose and bought...

Yes that's right, the ones that can barely be walked in... He misses the collar J 

Say cheese

We went RPGing last night and carefully selecting one of the vile concoctions He insists are cheese we scampered off. Now the cheese is a small round that can be popped in an oven until creamy... something one would far rather do in someone else's house... but in our climate we just left it out for half an hour. Carefully removing the wrappings one stood back to allow the aroma to pass. It smelt like something had died...

Meanwhile one ripped up bread, laid out alternatives for those who had a sense of smell and poured small aperitifs. Actually they were more to gird the loins for the cheese than accompaniments for the food. He gently smeared some on a piece of bread and bit into it. Oh that's good He groaned in ecstasy. His friend agreed. Against better judgement one had a small sample. Oh that is not good at all. She had a piece... and rushed to the fridge to find anything she could to remove the tasted from her mouth... mostly to no avail.

Looking at us rather like you would space aliens the gentlemen proceeded to devour the cheese. Well that is to say He had ownership of the knife and our friend wrestled for occasional possession... with only moderate success.

Which brings us to the slave's dilemma...

See He is lactose intolerant.  Now in a normal relationship you would just go... do you think that is a good idea? Actually one would probably just snatch the knife and say, no! In that clear authoritative voice you use on dogs when you want to be obeyed. You get occasional glimpses why one isn't in charge don't you?

All of this was laid against a very real reluctance to have that cheese back in our fridge. Honestly when He undid the container they are confined to, the smell wafted into the study... in spite of several layers of wrapping. Besides He was enjoying the stuff... though how you can like something that smells like an old, wet sock is quite beyond one. And one does so try not to nag... sometimes with varying levels of success...

And so the small wheel of vileness was consumed. And then His night was also consumed... along with all of his morning... by his body thanking him for its gift L

That was how one found one's self at the gym for the morning and with a 40 minute wait for the bus afterwards. Weekend public transport round here is as good as nonexistent. So when one finally crawled home it was early afternoon and He was up... and feeling rather bad about the aborted trip to the city that had been planned. In fact He offered a movie and maybe a little dinner instead.

This was how we found ourselves sitting at the waterfront watching a large cruiser leaving the Port of Brisbane for some exotic location, as we tackled the most enormous meals one has ever seen. They were so big we ended up bringing nearly half of them home with us.

The moral of this story?

Respect the stinky cheese. That smell is its warning label J

A Reflection on Colonisation

This was written at a time when one didn't have the blog, but one thought it might be good to pop a revised version here as it answers some of the things that come up in the group and it is much easier to have it here as a reference point... until such a time as Fet actually has some way to search a group for threads.

An interesting thread by MT started one thinking about the idea of no longer owning your body. Oddly enough there have been very few issues stemming from who owns the body. The mind on the other hand has caused more interesting issues. In some ways He has colonised one’s mind with an efficiency that would have made an empire proud.  Unfortunately, and this is probably where most of the empires went wrong, He has also managed to remove all of the means of revolt.

Most of this started harmlessly enough. There was a bit of behaviour modification here and there. Then there were adjustments to the physical that seemed reasonable enough at the time. You know harmless stuff like; I like the hair longer, and those high heels are great... with the added kicker of- you might as well enjoy these because when you get older and have to wear flats, you will regret not having fun now (you have to admire that perfectly reasonable logic).  Little things like skirts are more fun and accessible than trousers, and pantyhose are just not sexy... let’s see if we can find something better.  The list is endless, but you get the idea. Before you know it you have a wardrobe full of things that are girly; your hair (against all reason) is longer, you no longer have the trouser option as part of your clothing and all shoes are going to do permanent hip and foot injury down the track.

The trouble with all of this physical stuff is that it becomes internalised and before you know it the process infects your very thoughts. You find yourself thinking things and going whoa where the hell did that come from? This shining example the other day sitting on the bus; short hair, while it looks great on some faces, just doesn’t do some women any favours. WTF! Firstly why would one even care how someone cuts their hair and secondly where did this thing about short hair (something one has had since chopping off the waist length hair at 13 (it was handed it to Auntie upon arriving home; well she was so damn fond of the stuff)) come from?  No wonder the sisterhood excommunicated one. They could see where this relationship was heading- uncomfortable shoes and long hair. Well that and the whole sleeping with a bloke thing J

Anyway as one was saying, when the physical becomes internalised the mind seems to incorporate the new belief system without you noticing it... which is several kinds of creepy by the way. At this stage one is starting to wonder where He ends and one begins. We are starting to merge into the male and female halves of the same whole and all one can hear is the tic, tic, tic of the bloody watch. 

Peers at His ears suspiciously... well there is the odd white hair... the ears might be next. 

Road trip

What holiday would be complete without one, and so we tottered off along what proved to be a torturous trail to Maleny and Montville. They are picturesque places that are home to artist colonies, boutique business and most important of all, cheese makers. Well that last one is important to Him. Personally one can't see why you would want to form relationships with things that smell like the bottom of a laundry hamper... an old and wet laundry hamper.

Now road trips are not the most favourite thing for one small slave. Being blessed with a form of motion sickness that guarantees sleep in about 20 minutes they are generally wasted. In fact one can say hand on heart that one has slept through more scenic car, plane, ferry, boat and train rides than most. On the bright side one always arrives at the destination ready to go... apparently it's rather annoying L

This trip was no different; a solid hour of snoozing before we hit the roads that resemble corkscrews... and it was there one discovered yet another nasty legacy of the dental implant one had a while back. See they had to crack the floor of the sinus cavity to make room for the pin and ever since one has become part of that small percentage, that goes on to have no end of sinus issues. Well combined with that travel sickness issue and ears that block the minute one goes up a hill... shall we just say that trip was hell on wheels?

It is a trip that is worth it though because at the end are sweetie shops... where they make that wonderful hard candy with messages through the centre, amongst other kinds. And so we had a wonderful day drifting along, fondling shoes and looking at arts and crafts. The sad thing though was that most of it was now imported from other places... places with much cheaper labour.

The other big change was there was so much land for sale. There was a time that the only way you could buy in these areas was if someone died. And then there was a waiting list. Now it looks like those who sought the tree change and panoramic views are giving up and moving out. Many of them probably victims of the crash of the IT market and that working from home kept running into issues of liability and insurance.

And so leaving the picturesque Montville we tottered off to the outskirts of Maleny; home of the quilting shop and cheese maker, where we had a leisurely lunch before going into the town. A town that provides a home to another cheese shop (one with vile smelling cheeses all laid out in a cold room so you can inhale their pungent, earthy aroma en masse) bad art, very good coffee and a wonderful second hand book store. 

All this before the descent back to home... with the cheeses stashed in the boot of the car triple wrapped to no avail... and painkillers and bed J

That weighty matter

Over on Biddable's blog she wrote about her response to a couple of people's pontifications about weight. Like her one found most of the assumptions offensive. In fact one started to reply and it was getting to be such a diatribe that one stopped and decided to put it here instead. It is a topic that one has grazed over before... in passing.

The thing is it makes one furious that so-called intelligent people still keep spouting the myth that fat people are obviously lazy, who eat poorly and are unmotivated on some level. Why? Because it is a myth and one is a case in point. See all the women in the family are fat. Oh they don't start that way... if anything, rather as one once was, they start out skinny. Hell at 23 one fitted into size 14 clothes... umm... that's children's size 14 clothes by the way. But at the age of 35, as the women in the family are wont to do, one woke up with someone else's body.

No longer was one able to eat and never put on weight, no longer was one able to diet and drop a few pounds... literally in a couple of weeks, no longer was one able to do sport and never have to worry about weight. No, at the age of 35 the body went no. Not no as in we need to be coaxed, but no as in hell no. And there one was staring down the realisation that, like the rest of the women in the family, one was about to get fat. No not a little chubby, but clinically obese.

At 35, rather like the rest of the women in the family one suspects, PCOS had struck with a vengeance. Leaving one secure in the knowledge that all the diet and exercise in the world probably wasn't going cut it ever again. Not that the knowledge stopped one trying. With hand on heart one can say one has failed nearly every diet on the books... hell on some of the more famous ones there was actually a weight gain. In fact the only ones that had moderate success were low carb ones... and success is being defined here as the weight stabilised.

And exercise? Oh hell one walks... miles at work and on a treadmill and everywhere in between. In fact one spends six to eight hours a week in the gym weight training and walking... 'cos unlike cardio work (which one also does) it doesn't disturb the hormone levels in the body and make them canter off down the road to resistance. The diet is sensible 98% of the time, though one will come out for a little home baking, the job is active and after doing that, one still hits the gym regardless of how much one would rather just go home.

And all of that work results in the weight gain slowly, but surely, going up and up with every passing year. The difference is that the weight goes on at a rate of about 1-2 kilos a year rather than a month. And best of all one knows this is life as one is going to know it for, potentially, another 30 years at least... and it has been 13 years so far. And why? So some ill-informed pontificator can say that it is Master's fault that he doesn't shut off the food supply and make one exercise more because one doesn't have the necessary self control?

Well fuck you, you fatist fucks!

All of us have prejudices... it is a human thing. Of course not all of us feel obliged to pass judgement on people publically by writing that kind of drivel, gussied up as some sort of a public service designed to show our concern. And don't say there are exemptions for those trying to do something about it. You look at us with the same judgement you pass on everyone else... how can you not? You have no idea what is really going on, you just see the end results. Besides we all know you only tack those comments on so you can spew your misinformed shit, without guilt and without being accused of being the fatist that you are.

Why do you care what other people do in their relationship? For that matter why do you care what other people's property looks like?

Try looking to yourself and asking how can I be a better human being... 'cos seriously, some of us have a raft of suggestions.

Oh and while we are on the topic of self improvement you might like to catch up on recent research... you know the stuff that goes a long way to debunking most of your sage advice. For starters there is no evidence that exercise increases weight loss... in fact it actually increases appetite. They think exercise reduces stress hormones in the body, which in turn may aid weight loss. Secondly diets, even those rebranded as healthy eating... all they do long term is fuck with a metabolism... so starving the bitch ain't gonna work as you will find out... if she sticks around. Though why anyone would want to be owned by someone so ignorant beggars belief...

Now if you will excuse one small and pissed off slave the gym awaits... it's excellent for stress :)

Love is...

Warm... well He said he was just warming it up 'cos it felt cold

Thoughtful... hence the MEO plug (in this case the small) right before trying to stuff a hand in there

And sometimes it is cruel to be kind... in this case Histora's bloody paddles, well her owners at any rate

It is not love to keep poking the bruises on Valentine's Day while asking does this hurt?

Drought breaker

Well our lovely friend flew through for a quickie visit... well you can do a lot in a day. So picking them up from the train station we stopped off for a few essentials and then went home. We had champagne, conversations, redacted, redacted, more champagne, redacted, and a shower. That was followed by a very late lunch, redacted, redacted, redacted, and another shower.

Then we had dinner and a movie followed by desert and then drove them home. You know when your guest has to use GPS to find their way home you just know they live in Woop Woop.

It was a lovely visit... but between the two of them... one suspects they broke something

Oh and real friends wouldn't help the abuser hold one small slave down... just saying. Mutters seriously need some nice friends J

A new day

Well the day dawned bright and damned late. We were meant to go to breakfast, visit the market and go to the gym... well one of us was supposed to go. Of course what happened was one woke early and then slept in. There was barely time for morning mouse... it was not a good morning L In fact there wasn't enough time to go to the gym. But deciding to make the most of it we trotted off dutifully for breakfast.

Yes that is right, He left his lair... hell he even shaved and had the grace to smile. Though one did notice that He squinted a little in the bright light, but round here the light if fierce so that may have been a coincidence J We had breakfast in our favourite little hole in the wall cafe... where it was almost too hot to eat and where the conversation turned, as is to be expected, to Skyrim. For the entire breakfast might one add.

Then off we set to the markets. Now they aren't huge or particularly interesting markets, but one goes past them every Sunday on the way to work and thinks it would be so nice just to have the day off and wander round them. Besides He needed to leave the computer even if he wasn't so convinced. So wander them we did, as the sun blazed down with a ferocity that was both staggering and unpleasant.

After a while, in between comments about the light and the heat to which one tartly responded this is the outdoors... which wasn't exactly making one's case for being in it... He started to perk with interest at the food. And to question why we hadn't come here to eat. You know there wasn't a thing there that wasn't cooked in a lifetime's supply of fat... often its own. There was food there that one wouldn't even consider putting in one's body... or that of the worst enemy. Finally the heat drove us to the supermarket where we lingered by the frozen cabinet and wondered out loud if they would notice us setting up camp in their store.

Eventually we were driven out... we figured it was better if we left before we were asked to leave... and returned home... back to Skyrim. It seems it is a land of snow and ice. And the soundtrack of howling gales, along with the fan at full blast can almost make you believe it isn't sweltering. Well that was His excuse at any rate...

The day was not completely lost... The heat started to crank up along with the humidity. By late afternoon it was so bad He offered to take one out to dinner... we still had a comp from that disastrous work Christmas do. It was an offer one gladly accepted, even if it did mean having to put on clothes and going back there...

Oh my, didn't He have complainer on his file... never in the history of that place has a meal turned up so quickly or a plate been cleared so fast. You really could not fault the service or most of the food. The steak still has a large question mark over it though... see normally a very rare steak bleeds. This one did not and the meat was a particularly fluorescent shade of red and a rather strange texture. In fact one is still not convinced it was real steak as much as one of those reconstituted ones. At any rate we will not be dining there again. No one likes to question the authenticity of their steak.

And so we wandered home in the rain and the humidity, which had managed to turn it up a notch if that was possible, sated if mildly disturbed. Reaching our destination He fled back to Skyrim while one fled to the bedroom and air-con. To be lulled to sleep by TV and the realisation that He had made it through an entire dinner without once mentioning Skyrim. Man that must have made Him twitch on the inside... even more than the steak J

The reality

All over the place you find people wittering on about power exchanges. Hell one does a fair bit of it here too. The thing is though that reality is often far different from the theoretical debates. Reality is also far less glamorous than people imagine too... quelle surprise

We went out last night to RPG night... we're on holidays so to make our Tuesday night vanillas happy we switched nights. Normally because we work end weeks the only time we can make it is that Tuesday night and they work and have kids, so it is a huge concession on their part to take time out of their hectic schedule to make it possible. Anyway we rocked up for an evening of "Dread"... except one small slave had forgotten an important detail. Well more didn't realise the implications of it until it was too late. You see they play Skyrim too...

The first hour and a half was taken up with Him and him, with the odd comment by her, discussing the finer details of why resorting to killing your companions is often a necessary survival strategy. Well that was the opening gambit... after that one sort of zoned out with a polite (yeah the one that looks like a small, savage dog barring its teeth) smile plastered on one's face. At the end of the thing she turned around and said you are very understanding about Him playing so obsessively. You know just occasionally you get glimmerings of how your friends really don't understand the power structures of your relationship at all. Understanding... seriously? For that matter she doesn't quite understand one either J

See in this power exchange one gets to express things like Skyrim is colonising your life... one doesn't get to nag Him into giving it up. So you can imagine one's delight when at dinner time He promptly shut off the programme and joined one for dinner and a little light entertainment...

The delight ended when He took over the whole couch, leaving one to stand up and drink the cup of tea one had just vacated the couch to make, before one drifted off to do something else. Not only because there was nowhere to sit, but because He was also drifting off... to sleep... at 8.30 in the evening.

Which is why one is sitting here writing about the reality of power exchanges in a 24/7 relationship. They don't look like the debates at all and there is precious little in the way of kneeling and gifts of submission. More often than not it is about sucking it up and dragging on the big girl panties, and acknowledging that just because you envisioned the evening being spent a certain way, doesn't mean that's what is going to happen. Not the one in charge, remember?

And so one is going to bed... to wake up with these very childish feelings of resentment and disappointment tucked firmly where they belong... in the big girl panties... for tomorrow is another day. There is no good reason why these feelings should be allowed to cloud that one J

Holiday snaps

It is a strange thing, but here one is on holidays, free from both collar and plug and yet one still finds oneself on hands and knees...

  

In this case busily scrubbing floors. There is something so wrong with all this... not to mention that He will leave Skyrim to take happy snaps of it L

Responsibility

A common, and frankly irritating, meme on Fet is that being owned is in some way trying to abdicate all responsibility for anything ever again. And of course you do this because you are trying to escape the responsibilities of life... usually because you are weak of mind and spirit. As with most things nothing could be further from the truth. Though it would be kinda nice if you could abdicate like that...

Round here we both have responsibilities for different areas. And you know often they are dependent on if He has any interest in the process. He has no interest in how a meal gets there, and for that matter when or what it is, so long as one turns up. Except for breakfast... He's big on breakfast. Mind you He also feverently hopes that meals will come in pill form before he dies... Do you have any idea how utterly insulting that is to a good cook... but as always one digresses.

No round here by and large responsibilities fall into three categories... His, ours and one small slaves. His include the major decisions and final says... oh and things he really wants to do and actively pursue... like killing one's arse with some horrid toy. Ours include things like the relationship 'cos like any relationship this one needs two active participants. People who are equally committed to keeping the relationship on the straight and narrow might one add.

All this brings us to one small slave's responsibilities... unfortunately some still exist. See round here one has a responsibility to Him and that includes being open and honest about what is going on in the crazy zone known as one's mind. Every once in a while He will ask what are you thinking and one tells him. The whole crazy convoluted thing... it's like a maze without hedges. And after all these years He still asks... hmmm... maybe he is more masochistic than he lets on. Anyway one digresses... again.

See round here it is equally one's responsibility to speak up if the relationship is heading off the rails. Now He may agree or disagree... that's where his responsibility comes in. So after four days of someone living in their cave exploring the world of Skyrim, and yet another meal eaten alone one did point out that maybe we needed to consider some ground rules for our holiday together. Simple things like dinner... together... and maybe a little sex thrown in for good measure.

He agreed one might have had a point. So hopefully we will get back on track and actually spend some time together... not in separate rooms as is often our want. And you lucky readers might end up with something to see other than widow status updates. No promises though... Skyrim is like a black hole J

Hard line

In the group at the moment there is a debate going on as to whether leasing is the same as owning. Unfortunately it is laid over someone's personal grief, but often debates get started over the strangest of issues and where people least expect them. People are wondering why we are being so mean about the whole thing. Well here is why... for those who are genuinely interested.

The group was formed for those in co-habiting O/p relationships. Long term can't/ won't leave relationships in which people often do some serious rewiring of their properties psyche. Now we have tried to keep the group open to those who are genuinely interested, working on it, have tripped and fallen down the hole and those who have been there. What we were never designed for was those who fell down it and now want to call it something else that fits in with their circumstances.

See there is a hell of a difference between owning something and leasing it. Well there is in this country at any rate. Here when you lease something you can call it yours and treat is like it is, but there are things you can't do. You can't rip out walls, rewire the place to make room for your new fan, hang pictures on the walls, change the colour scheme or decide you want to concrete over the lawn. Well you can, but there is going to be horrible financial repercussions if you do. The bottom line is you can call it yours, but it is a lease and as we much we like to think of them as being the same, they are not and never will be the same thing.

Now when you own something you have a lot more latitude... within the building regulations. He has done some serious renovating, including rewiring whole sections and making changes that are probably quite irreversible. It has been done because for a number of reasons most of them aesthetic to him. And He has been able to do it because he owns one small slave's arse.

Of course people are looking at this and going, but what if this happens to me? What if my relationship crumbles and falls?

Well just so we are clear, you will be former owners and property. We as a group will still support you, love you, hang out with you and try to help in any way we can. What we won't do is change the group description to include your rebranding of your relationship. Still think we are big meany pants for doing this?

Consider this...

There are lots of groups for TNG's usually under 35. Now people found and join those groups and never give a moments thought to what happens when they turn 35. Having watched them though, one can tell you exactly what happens. They get removed, no matter what or how long they have contributed. It is nearly always ugly... it is a bit like leaving the church one imagines. It means the person loses a part of their identity and it is bad enough that many move on to other groups of ex TNGers, often sounding as bitter as they feel.

We don't do that to group members, but we do ask that you don't try and rebrand your relationship and expect us to smile and move over to include it. You are in an O/p relationship that failed... it's that simple and that complicated. Don't try and tell us it was a leasing arrangement in a group that is about being owned. It's just not going to happen because that is not what we discuss. 

Day two

Major achievements:

• He came to bed about 6am... those werewolf hunters are even more persistent than the frost trolls
• Went to the gym
• Had a snooze
• Poked around at some chores that have been put off for far too long
• Going to do an itinerary so we actually do some of the things we are talking about... markets, a couple of day trips...

See one is keeping a record of this because at the end of every holiday you wonder how you managed to waste it. This way there will be no doubt...

Day one

Major achievements:

• Two meals
• A three hour snooze
• Consulted with His mother over colour choices for a quilting project of hers
• He killed some snow troll or something. Sorry, frost troll rolls eyes

In really exciting news the collar is off and He is talking about getting one of these. Hopefully it will weigh a little less than the current one 'cos over the years that little puppy has literally worn a groove in the neck... like a ring does on a finger. A thing which might one add just makes Him smile and quip something about better than a mark L

Ice-cream, you scream, we all...

Tonight is the first night of our holidays together. We have plans... let's watch them go down in flames together shall we? Already the first opening salvo has been sounded as one is getting dragged into work for four hours on Wednesday... but let's not go there just yet. No, let us instead revel in that feeling of freedom that the last shift for a fortnight can bring.

It's the kind of feeling that makes you want to celebrate with something naughty... and finding nothing quite fitting one settled for some of the fabulous Maggie Beer Dark Chocolate and Orange ice-cream one is currently enamoured with. So clutching the remains of a small tub one scampered over to join Him on the couch... politely asking in an approved manner to sit down... by which one means stark naked. Looking not at one's naked form but at the tub He asked where's mine?

You don't have any... and there isn't enough to share. Besides if one does then all it will do is give you a taste for it. That's not a kindness one said in a smug and slightly sanctimonious tone.

As one nibbled through the dark chocolaty richness He cuddled close... an arm reaching round ones shoulder.

Don't you go threatening the ice-cream like that... one knows what you are up to.

He smiled innocently... crinkling the edges of those bright blue eyes.

As one reluctantly finished the last morsel and popped the empty tub on the bench behind the couch He hauled one over his knee. Where He proceeded to wallop one's arse with a great deal of enthusiasm as one tried to wriggle away.

Finally let upright one shot that was for eating the ice-cream in front of you wasn't it?

No, that was because I could and it gave me pleasure.

You know He is pettier than he lets on... Scorpio

Being unfaithful

As some of you know one really doesn't function first thing without coffee. Actually that is a massive understatement... we are talking crawling to the edge of awareness here.  And one isn't proud... there have been times when it is literally hot water swirled around the nearly empty coffee jar. It was desperate times calling for desperate measures.

Now as many of you know there is an ally in this need in the form of morning mouse. But lately there has been someone new... someone blue and fabulous. Someone given to one small slave by Him for Christmas... and might one add she is less inclined to judge this need than he is. So without further ado let one introduce you to the new love of one's life...

Though it is worth noting that one has always loved her... just this one contains coffee J

The clique

Over the years the group has often been accused of being a clique. And one is the first to say yes we are. The thing is though people often seem to forget that the word clique is sometimes not only used incorrectly, but that it isn't necessarily a bad thing. See a clique is as good or bad as its leader.

Under MT's leadership the group has definitely become a much mellower place than it once was. Hell for that matter the Wild West has become mellower. The group when it started out was a rough place where the sharpest tongue won. And people used to come in just to take on the sharpest one around. But just as the Wild West gave way to cities she slowly, but surely, civilised us J

The way Fet was set up there was no way to remove people and the care bears were often more of a hindrance than a help... bless them they were out of their depth more often than not in that group. They really couldn't understand why we couldn't all get along... we were just kinksters having fun weren't we. Umm.... no. No, we were not. And for the record waking up to find whole threads removed because some bloody kinkster had got their knickers in a knot over something that we had said wasn't fun at all. But one digresses... back to cliques.

We, as a group, do have certain features of a clique. There is a queen bee; MT, her sidekick; N (her daughter dubbed him so), bankers... those that collect information and secrets... err a group full of INTJ's... it's what we do, floaters (most of the members 'cos we don't force them to be faithful or monogamous) and the targets. Now that last one is the interesting one... and that is the one most worthy of closer examination. See normally a clique, one that is poorly led in particular, targets outsiders. They actively go after them.

Now we might exclude people, but we rarely go after them. In fact the only time we as a group have ever gone after anyone, was when they have insisted on ignoring our boundaries in the group. Usually after we have spanked them we just toss them out the door. Occasionally the odd group member, not the group, carries on nailing their arses to the ground outside of our borders... some of our group have warped senses of humour. The rest of us have no dog in the fight... we literally don't think they are worth the energy nor do we care enough to do it.

So while one has no issue with describing us as a clique, one would have to say we are a fairly benign one. We're just not warm and fuzzy... and we have a zero tolerance for stupid. Actually we also have zero tolerance for armchair pontificators, people telling us we are wrong and dangerous, people who come in to defend someone's honour when they have had a run in with someone from the group, people who tell us we are a bad example to newbies, people who tell us we are fantasists, people informing us we are going to be amputated along with the boiled kittehs and those who have obviously mistaken us for people they can change... oh and sections of the Gorean community. Other than that we are pretty much live and let live J

The comedian

His face loomed in the shower doorway, as one got ready for work.

Going to the gym He quipped.

No.

Oh, so this won't be a problem...

You all know what happened next... some of you better than others.

He is not as funny as he thinks L

Hard limit

When we first got together He presented one with a BDSM checklist to mark off what one was interested in and well frankly... had no desire to ever try. Of course we mainly started with the latter (unless He had no desire to try it) because how would one know if one didn't want to do them, if one didn't actually try some of them? Besides He knew the things one liked. And that people is the kind of logic one deals with... daily L

Over the years the odd thing has been added to that list... one of them is Him coming in one's arse before one scampers off to the gym. The reasons are fairly self explanatory... we are going to pretend they are OK? Now today was a strange day, bisected by a late hairdressing appointment that meant one had to go to the gym early rather than when He goes to bed. It was also a hot day and all the scampering round trying to fit everything in led one to the shower.

Needless to say He got one in there...

You know there was a time where one considered the shower a refuge. It was where one went to think, cry, be bad tempered and generally unwind. Now one thinks of it as a second bedroom. There is as much sex going on in there, especially during summer when it is so hot, as there is in any other room.

As usual one found oneself mashed up against the cool tiles as He forced his way into his favourite hole.

Afterwards one spent some quality time with an assortment of bus time tables, trying to find the best way to squeeze in the gym and still get another shower in before going to the hairdressers. Whichever way it was done it was going to be a tight fit. In the end one selected the way that gave us more time together...

This is where He came along and grabbed one's hand, carting one off to the bedroom with a cheerful I thought you might like to cum.

That was how one ended up with a screaming orgasm and an arse full of cum... right before going to the gym. Dammit there is a reason one tries to avoid that. It's not meant to be some sort of hurdle for Him to barge through... where's that red flag when you need it?