Creative ways to torture your slave

Today was spent in the city due to the car being in for a service. Now Brisbane is a strange city in that the centre of it is a large outdoor mall with seats, water features, little open air restaurants and kiosks. If you look above all the hustle and bustle, above all the glitzy shop fronts, you can see the remains of the original Brisbane City. As part of the deal to put in the glitz they had to retain the facades of the original buildings. Now facadism is not popular, but personally one thinks it is better than losing all of the old buildings altogether... let's be honest a compromise is when everyone is equally miserable.

Jane Debster Empire

As it turned out it was a bad time to shop... there were shoe sales everywhere and it was very hard to turn their pleading aside. Well cull them down to a manageable few as they had to be carried by one small slave. In fact as an enormous bag was handed over the counter in one department store, the sales assistant smiled at Him brightly and said I assume you are the carrier, forcing one to intervene. There was this dancing vision of the shoes being returned post haste.

Hoegl Hammit

It was as one wended the way towards a favourite shoe shop, more for a little self torture as the shoes are usually obscenely expensive, that one got a horrible shock. They were having a relocation sale... fortunately the move is just down the road as it turned out, but it was bad there for a minute. In fact one was forced to indulge in a little restorative shoe looking... just to get the breathing back to normal. As it turned out that was just as well because the wallet needed mouth to mouth after buying these.

He meanwhile had gone to other pastures... upstairs to the gaming shop. He arrived back just in time to approve the purchase above. Mind you He was probably feeling a little generous because he was carrying his newest way to torture one small slave... other than making one scuttle after him wearing high heels all day. You see tucked under his arm was this...

If you are geeky in persuasion you might find this interesting

From there we spent some pleasant time in amongst lingerie where one drooled over the cutest little bras and feverently wished for smaller breasts. Being practical in nature one turned to Him and said well they aren't going to get smaller. What one needs is a girlfriend with perky little breasts. His eyes lit up... in fact He even offered to share her. From what one could work out one small slave was going to be employed largely as a cleaner... of sorts.

So yes, one girlfriend needed. Must have small breasts and like lingerie. Bisexuality a plus J

Thursday turned out...

To be a day of rest... cough, cough. In fact the only one who got any real rest was the arse and even its day ended... well we will get to that. See we had plans; hairdressers, meals, scuttling around and a water bottle. Err... that last one was for the arse. That was the plan... a plan that, might one add, went to hell in a hand basket... and one is still a little hazy about how.

Anyway dutifully fronting up to bed at about 7pm for the planned festivities, involving the aforementioned arse and a water bottle, one found Him looking almost past the point of no return. This diet is kicking His arse with a vengeance.  So we settled for some good old fashioned nipple pinchers, mutual masturbation and a little anal without lube. It seems that the past few days have paid dividends after all.

In fact as one lay there arse up masturbating, as He came in it in great gushing, pulsating waves which felt wonderful, he withdrew and slapped the Njoy back in. And then proceeded to deliver a few walloping blows to one's arse. Frankly one was too far gone to notice any real pain, but the sensation was divine. Probably due to the cheeks being stretched and relaxed at the same time the sensation rolled along the skin like a vibration and ran up along the Njoy. It turned the plug into a large tuning fork and sent one crashing over the edge into a massive orgasm...

As a matter of fact as one sits here writing this with the plug still firmly in place one can still feel a tingly glow...

Along with an overwhelming desire for a naughty and nonexistent snack groans

A vegetable a day...

Life sometimes goes wrong in unexpected ways around here. Oh it started innocently enough with one small slave in the shower happily shaving the legs and washing intimate body parts. He had strolled in, ostensibly to shave, when he complained that he was receiving mixed messages.

Blinks not sure what was mixed about them at all... though the steam might have been causing some of the confusion

Before one could say wink there He was buried deep in the arse... which after a night in the MEO was offering little in the way of resistance. In fact the arse was a little tender before He offered his ministrations... something one mentioned casually in passing.

His response?

A nice soothing cucumber L

At least is was a small one

Master is kind, Master is merciful

Today's plug...

Is the XS MEO...

This was taken with the phone as one was stretched across His thighs. It turned out to be a dangerous space. Every time one tried to squirm off His lap he just spread his thighs a little further apart L

The first day is always the worst

Well that is what they always say. And it's not true at all. The worst day is always day three... but we will get back to that later...

Today was the first day of our holidays and He has decided that it might be fun to reinstate all those little protocols and rules that have fallen to the way side due to life inserting itself between us.

To that end one is to be naked when making requests of any kind... never a problem except in winter when one is inclined to be huddled in pj's... though He does let one keep the booties on

Going to the toilet needs permission and boy does He ever like to stretch that one out L

Plugs are back to 24/7

In fact He thought it might be fun to take a quick snap of whatever is jammed up one's arse in the coming days... not a suggestion from the peanut gallery... glares at the usual offenders

It is also the first day of a wellness kick so for the next three days there are no carbs in the diet at all. It is the easiest way to ground zero the body's dependency on readily available sugars. To be honest too many white foods have crept into the diet since being unable to go to the gym and although one is well enough to go back, finally, we are holding off. It seems there is a new gym about to open up literally round the corner from where we live and best of all it will be open 24/7. Not having to lug heavy gym bags, be underfueled before workouts and the general drama of trying to sync up work shifts, buses and gym sessions will be fabulous.

Anyway, the no carb thing doesn't worry one overly not being a sweet tooth... you don't miss what you don't crave. And it is only three days before we start putting better carbs back in the body. The trouble is by day three the fatigue and the muzzy head have well and truly taken up residency. Sugar withdrawals are worse than caffeine cravings any day... and they suck beyond belief.

So here one is, firmly back under the thumb of a tyrant and being starved to boot... and it's only the first day L

Top of the world

This is a post about sleep and gratitude and butt plugs and sex... in fact one after the other. It started last night when He got up early. In part so we could snatch a few hours together, but mostly so one small slave could go to bed early and get some sleep. It is hardly news that one has been running on empty this week... in fact the smell of the empty tank would be closer to the mark. So off one scampered to sleep for nearly nine glorious hours.

What a difference that makes...

So here one is unbelievably grateful for His kindness and thoughtfulness and for the donation of some of his sleep so one could have more.

It allowed one to step lightly through the last shift and scamper around gathering groceries before we wended our way home. It was in that place that one was cornered and the Njoy was shoved in place...

Stick your fingers in your cunt... How does it feel He enquired?

Very tight... This might not have been a smart answer because one ended up flat on one's back with the ankles wrapped around His neck as he tried it out for size. Yeah for the record one size does not fit all.

As it turned out the arse was much more accommodating. In fact it obliging opened as He forced an increasing succession of fingers in there before shoving his cock in their place. It was while He was buried there, as one lay arse up and struggling to breath in the pillow, his fingers wrapped around a nipple in an ever tightening vice that one had a screaming orgasm.

The assorted pains might have conspired to produce that, but fuck it is going to be sore tomorrow... and at this rate, for most of the days to follow. They say you should always start as you mean to carry on L

The final countdown

The day dawned clear, bright and as hot as an outer ring of hell. It would seem that our winter has started to give up in favour of summer.... and it is going to be a long, hot one it would seem.

It was a day that consisted of intervening between a customer who didn't like our returns policy and the poor junior who got to serve them and yet another discussion about that bloody book. As one commented to the young lady in question, there is a woman in England calling for the burning of the book because of its portrayal of women and its normalising of violence against women. Now, one is completely against the burning of books as a form of censorship, but one could almost get behind the idea if they were burning this one for its crimes against literature. She laughed and said either way the author was still going to be making money...

Damn the young and their clear logic paths.

Though the whole encounter did leave one to wonder if parents realise what their children are reading.

All of these realities faded into the background as one kept thinking this little thought...

After this shift there is only one more to go J

Crawling

Not that kind you sick perverts J

No crawling is what one is doing in the lead up to two weeks holiday. All one has to do is to survive two more shifts and then...

Then He has plans for the arse...

It's sort of a carrot stick scenario...

And one is unsure which one is the stick exactly...

Which leaves one vacillating between joy and dread

It's a skill they seem to possess; it comes with the decoder ring and the book of jokes in the standard Master Kit L

Thursday's arse has far to go

Well it seems the arse didn't travel quite far enough to be out of His reach... well more that it made the mistake of coming home. It seems that He was less than thrilled about its lack of gratitude yesterday, given that the mistreatment care was for its own good. In spite of the arse's lack of gratitude He has moved things up to the next level and it is now back in a butt plug... again for its own good of course.

Yeah have to say the arse is not feeling suitably grateful L

Wednesday's arse is full of woe

Well not really... having to go in to worked certainly sucked, but there was an upside... in fact the arse was delighted. See it has largely been left to its own devices of late due to all the illness and whatnot. Like all good things though it has come to an end... it is back on the menu so to speak. Unfortunately, rather like the way clothes never seem to fit when you come back from a holiday, it seems to have shrunk... at least a dress size.

So this week He has spent time gently stretching it back into shape... at least that is what he claims he was doing. The arse is of the opinion that He has engaged in a series of unprovoked attacks against it... culminating in that quoits incident. The aches and pains would seem to bear out its version of events. So it was only too happy to hustle out the door to work and escape its violator J

Quoits anyone?

A gift to remember

It all started as a joke many years ago...

At the time Swarovski had opened one of its first shops in Brisbane and we had never seen such gaudy uselessness in all our lives. Brightly coloured animals, useless nic nacs, hideous jewellery and bizarrely tasteless home decorating items winked from behind enormous glass windows. For a long time it was a standing joke between the ex and one small (and at the time) not a slave that we would be nice or else Christmas gifts would be purchased from there... 'cos two lesbians needed Swarovski crystal like... well there probably isn't a suitably derogatory comment for here. Well that pact lasted until she was dying and they released a wonderful Mickey Mouse (she was a huge fan) series and one bought her a key ring from the range. Well everyone should have one gift from there before they die J

Anyway we are sitting on the couch and He turned around and said it's our 15th anniversary coming up and guess what it is?

No idea one replied, desperately trying to work out when our anniversary is... yeah still haven't quite nailed that stuff down, though there is a hazy notion that it is in October.

Its crystal and I thought I might buy you something from Swarovski to commemorate it He said, laughter dancing around his whiskers.

Oh? You know they do some quite nice stuff these days? Not cheap, but a long way from the hideousness that they used to make.

His face fell, well that's no fun.

Oh it will be, just let one go look at their catalogue...

No, gone quite off the idea. I will have to find something else He said.

Well it had better not be another jewelled butt plug.

Well the modern equivalency is glass He parried.

And one of those glass ones with the jewel in the end is not a compromise. Just once it would be nice to have a present that can be shared with people. Other than on the blog, one hastened to add.

Oh that can be arranged He said smiling.

Not what was meant

We can take you to Chermside, in fact any shopping centre you like... we can even take pictures to share with people...

Dammit! It's like making a deal with the devil. In your heart of hearts you know it isn't going to turn out quite the way you want L

Negotiations down the hole

It was the end of a long day and a particularly long one for Him. At nine o'clock He decided to pack it in and go to bed. At the time one was in the study... it seemed safer... or at least out of immediate reach. He had spent the evening making one flash on command. Well it wasn't quite on command; it was more on threat really.

Now in fairness the reluctance to perform was tied into the fact it was damned cold. Besides, as one pointed out, it was unlikely that one was ever going to win 'The Good Slave Award', in fact one has retired from that race altogether, so it seemed pointless hopping to it. Sighs yes writing this one can see how that might have not been the best approach to the situation, but in one's defence He was cheating. See He does that annoying 3, 2, 1, thing, except he was starting at two. Apparently the three was silent. According to Him, his way is more expedient L

Anyway back to hiding out in the office...

He came past and ordered one to bed for some put me to sleep sex. Feeling bold slightly suicidal one pointed out that one small slave did have rights. See time spent on Fet is never wasted... beams happily.

His reply?

Yes you do and I am going to trample on them.

Tyrant!

Conversations at work

Today the overwhelming theme was grey... all Fifty Shades of them. It started with a customer asking if one had actually read them. As it turned out we were put off by them. Of course in one small slave's case it was the complete lack of literary merit, while it seems she was slightly mortified by the sexual content. She was also on book three so one couldn't help but think that maybe the lady did protest too much...

The second encounter was a woman looking for grey face makeup for her son's costume party. As one pointed out to the customer, most women want a makeup that enhances their natural colour. She shot back as quick as a wink that it was a shame, grey was a nice neutral colour and there were at least 50 shades of it J

The third encounter... oh that was very different. That was the thing squirmy sensations are made of... and not the good kind either.

Sitting in the lunch room with one of the juniors the conversation started innocently enough with her asking what was the best way to tackle the orange she was dealing with. Yes that probably tells you how young she is. So as she is sitting there, nibbling away at her neatly cut up orange, she turns around and asks have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?

Umm... yes one replied with a note of extreme caution, all the while wondering what was coming next.

What did you think of it?

Well they might not be the worst written books ever, but they are probably close.

Yeah it is pretty bad...

And she would know as she is an avid reader... most of them books far in advance of her years.

But people seem to be getting more bent out of shape about the sexual content than the writing, she added thoughtfully.

Casual shrug... our views are becoming increasingly Americanised, so while we have no problem with  people being killed violently on our screens and in books, we are loath to deal with sex. Ironically your generation is bombarded with sex in a way that previous generations weren't.

That's true and people are so concerned about young people growing up to be sexual, when it is all around us. It's hard not to.

And then of course there is that message that all someone needs is love to fix them... that is a dangerous fallacy, but it is promoted as one of the themes in the book. If love could fix things more people would stay married...

Now that was a deft turn of conversation because her parents are divorced and she is the bone of contention between them. After that things got back onto much safer topics for a modern work place... like what she was going to do for a job when she finished school at the end of the year and when she was going to leave home... both of them J

Communicating perceptions

On Fet at the moment, one is following a thread with all the fascination usually reserved for a car accident. It's being followed in part because one can't quite figure out if the person who originally started the thread is the most passive aggressive person on earth or if they are a troll of the first order. This one seems to have blended characteristics of The Innocent Troll and The Provocative Troll. Sometimes it is nearly impossible to tell those who have poor communications skills apart from those using it as entertainment.

The thread does however highlight the importance of communication and more importantly, the capacity to be on the same wavelength as those you are talking to. Part of the issues being encountered, apart from the complete inability to hear what the other is saying, deliberately or otherwise, is that the poster in question keeps on joining M/s boards to have their discussions. Their stated belief that they are all "s types" is being received in what could only be described as a lukewarm manner... think Code Red here J

So what is the point of all of this you may be wondering? Well apart from the huge amount of entertainment that the thing is providing and the fascinating insights into what the poster is probably like to deal with... and to marvel at how they have remained alive so long... there are other interesting things going on.

The numbers of the group escalates whenever a stoush like this ensues in a quite fascinating manner. In fact the group has more growth during one of these rounds than at any other time of the year and one can't help but wonder if the owners desire to run an uncensored group isn't a ploy to gain membership. There is also the interesting development that since the group owner has got into a relationship, they have become the voice of reason within the group rather than stirring the pot like they used to. They have also gone back through old threads and cleaned up anything that made them look bad... it must have taken hours of editing... not only of their own comments, but others in reply. All of which makes one wonder if they actually know what uncensored means.  

The thread also serves as a reminder to us all to talk to the people in our lives... preferably in a language they can relate to and if that capacity isn't there to go out and acquire some basic communication skills. It might be terribly modern to think that words can mean whatever you want them to mean... it just helps if people have similar notions on the matter at hand J

Doomed to failure

Sometimes you look at peoples aspirations come to fruition and wonder where their friends were. And why didn't they grab hold of them and go "No" in a firm and loving voice. What has inspired this random thought you may be wondering?

A new business has opened up near our waterfront selling mini, dirt and quad bikes.

What fun you may be thinking... with dancing visions of quads bouncing over the dunes.There is just one little problem... well a couple really.

Apart from the fact that bikes are not allowed on the beaches...

There are no dunes around here. There is no dirt either. There is nowhere to ride a mini bike for that matter.

This leaves one to ponder why you would choose to open this type of business here...

And how long it will survive L

MEO twist n suck

Carefully tucked in an order was a box of these... in six sizes no less.

 The pros:

• There is something for everyone
• They come ranging from nipple sized to you could probably get most of a breast in there sized
• They have a very good grip
• You can tighten them unmercifully if you are feeling mean

The cons:

• They can be tightened unmercifully... those fuckers can hurt in the right wrong hands
• Probably should have been called the lick, twist n suck as you need moisture to form a seal

He tried these out while one was incapacitated yesterday... the vile beast! They are an interesting sensation and had one not been tied up at the time there might have been time to explore them further... rather than being distracted by Him. The body really can only focus on one type of pain at a time... glares pointedly at a certain someone. If you like nipple/ breast torture though these are a handy things to have round the house J

Bound and branded

First there was the catch and cuff stage...

 And then there was the stinging slap stage... the first of many as it turned out

 The man took advantage of the situation L

Interlude

We were curled up on the couch finally catching up with 'Falling Skies'. It was also getting late and all one wanted to do was hop in the shower and get clean after pottering around doing housework. Not wanting to miss anything the plan was to nip out and grab the washing off the line and have a shower in between episodes.

But this is the rabbit hole... nothing goes quite to plan

As one moved towards the shower He was one pace behind. In fact as one hopped in the shower the door was opened and there He was.

Pee for me He said

Now some girls can pee standing up... one small slave is not one of those girls. In fact there is very little directional aim in spite of being made to practise over the years... indoors and out. For a change though one did manage to get a visually pleasing arch of light golden pee for Him.

It was so visually appealing that one got to kneel in it while He came all over one's tits with gobs of hot, sticky cum afterwards.

And they say no good deed goes unpunished J

Beginnings and ends

On Sunday mornings we go out to breakfast before one small wage slave is deposited at work. It is usually something fast and generous because there are no more meals coming one's way until the early evening. Being that one is contrary by nature there was a yen for something different from our usual repast...

Do you feel like doing something different for breakfast this morning?

Oh lets go to the markets, He said with enthusiasm. He was chasing a Turkish pide stuffed with meat, garlic and cheese judging by the look on his face.

Umm... it's kinda crowded down there and we have very limited time

Oh it will be fine, was His breezy reply. I'll drop you off near the curb and you can go and get them for me.

You know sometimes one suspects you think you have a slave

Oh it will help you feel more than a series of holes I fuck was His cheery reply

Master is kind, Master is merciful...

Yes I am

And your sarcasm detector is obviously broken.

We were home very late after spending time with our now Sunday night vanillas. In fact by the time He got to bed he had been up for about 25 hours straight and all one small slave wanted to do was get clean and crawl into bed alongside him.

Come round here and make me cum He said.

Mentally sighing one trudged to His side of the bed and took his proffered hard on right handed. As a southpaw it is not a natural feeling and something one tends to avoid because it always feels clumsy and awkward. His hand snaked up inside the t-shirt and sports bra one was wearing to pinch a nipple in a vice like grip.

Ouch! That hurts.

The sooner you make me cum the sooner it will stop hurting He said, tugging and pinching the nipple and making one whimper softly.

Standing there, leaning over held in place by a nipple and unable to get away, one proceeded to give Him the command orgasm.  

Oddly enough any feelings of awkwardness were overcome by a throbbing nipple L

Reprogramming your rabbit

When we first got together He was reading a book about memes... in fact he was keenly interested in if they could work on a smaller scale. Now not being bothered by pesky ethics committees His first project was one small... sex buddy. He wanted to see if he could reprogram certain attitudes one had towards sex. That is to say if He could get sex to link up with emotions... they were somewhat separate states continents as far as one was concerned.

To cut a long story short it succeeded beyond His wildest dreams. A little too well in some ways... He took a person who was a complete commitment-phobe, with profound attachment disorders and turned her into someone who is so besotted with him that sex can't be enjoyed without him. Boy has that one come back to bite Him on the arse on occasion over the years.

Over time there has been the hugely hysterical (to Him and a few of you) experiment with changing one's favourite colour to purple. He still snickers whenever the hand reaches out to something purple. Or worse stands there deadpanning 'oh look it's your favourite colour' like He is talking to a child. He is not as funny as he thinks he is L

Some were unexpected side effects like the time He inadvertently laid in a cough response to him going anywhere near one's nipples. It got so annoying that He spent several hours undoing that one. Well He claims that was what he was doing. Personally one suspects that it was an excuse to harass one small and sick slave. Though one does have to admit the cough response seems to have abated... for now L

He has done a myriad of other things too, most of them far more subtle. See He got better with practise. That is to say He got more sneaky and underhanded. In fact some of it is rather like a Jedi mind trick. In all of it though one can't help but wonder would He still do it if the early results weren't so promising? Would we be here now if it had failed?

Bowling for fun and sport

As some of you know many people who comment on this blog are known from other places. You may have also noticed that some of them take great pleasure in trying to aim one small slave straight under the bus... actually some of you seem to have hopped on that particular bus as well... with far more enthusiasm than good manners would dictate might one add. Anyway, every once in a while one gets the opportunity to return the favour...

So with no further ado may one introduce you to ancilla_ksst and her new blog
A slave to Master.

No need for thanks ancilla_ksst... happy to help a fellow blogger J

Representation

For years the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (NCSF) regarded the M/sers as not in their purview. In fact they avoided them whenever possible as they considered them a bit of a minefield. Now that the M/sers, with their slogans of Safe Sane and Consensual (SSC) and to a lesser extent Risk Aware Consensual Kink (RACK) and its largely unknown cousin Risk Informed (PRICK), have started to slide under their umbrella they have had to start to deal with a range of issues including consent.

Needless to say the O/p crowd are still very much out in the rain... a place many are quite happy to remain in. If we were good at toeing lines we would probably be more scene orientated... rather than the dangerous fringe dwellers they insist on believing us to be. Though judging by the furore over issues such as rape and how it is handled in the scene, that are making the water choppy on Fet, it would seem to be much safer in our little electronic burrows... apart from that rain dripping on our noses.

Recently the NCSF has taken steps to form a committee to advise them of issues pertinent to the M/sers. They have been chosen from well respected BDSM community members. A title we can probably assume to mean known the NCSF... it's usually how people get elected to anything... someone knows someone whom... and it is probably safe to say they are members of the NCSF.

So now we have an organisation being advised by its members on issues that are important to them.

Yeah nothing could possibly go wrong there... small pools are excellent places to fish

In this little corner of Australia these people have no sway. Our government has no interest in acknowledging any of its minority groups if it can help it. But for the Americans who are in CNC relationships and do read this blog, here is the thought for the day...

You are being represented by a group of people from the BDSM spectrum whose lives barely mesh with your own on a good day. Don't sit there thinking they have nothing to do with us. These are the people who will go on to influence the people who shape the policies of the future... your future.

Masochism in many forms

The day dawned with a clear head... it was also late. So while one scampered around catching up on laundry He went out to do the grocery shopping. Now He is excellent with shopping... if it isn't on the list it doesn't come home. Unless of course it is some sort of a treat like cucumbers or cheese... as one discovered while unpacking the bags.

First came the three small wheels of assorted goodness and then came a huge wheel. Now being the sharing type the first thought was this has to be for Sunday gaming, but closer inspection revealed that it was in fact a baking dish for the cheeses. Again the first thought was sharing the calorie load with our Sunday night vanillas, but as one half of that pair has a cholesterol level in excess of 50 it's safe to say he will be allowed to sniff only.

So one small slave is out the back hanging up things in the shade and there are all of these whimpering, sighing sounds emitting from the office. Sure enough He was on the computer looking at recipes on the net.

Umm... you remember the last time you ate a wheel of cheese?

No, was the slightly truculent reply from inside

Oh you do. You two ate the wheel of vile stuff by yourselves. And do you remember what happened afterwards?

It was worth it He asserted

The man is lactose intolerant. Why on gods earth does He bring this stuff home?

A mixed bag

Today was a day for car rides, lunches, sex and naps... it all sounds very promising doesn't it. Of course as many of you know life round here often has a looking glass kind of quality. Take the car ride for instance... it sounds perfectly harmless. Yeah here to say a car ride on day three of a migraine that just won't go is ambitious to say the least.

Often when we drive along He asks what are you thinking? In this case it was more concentrate on the horizon, ignore that wave like sensation in the tummy. No, you are not going to throw up! Look at the trees... oh that is an unusual colour for a car. Wonder if they chose that off a paint chart and why? Why out of all the colours did they think that was the one for them?

Nothing too deep going on at all...

By the time the car rolled to a stop one small slave was more than ready to disembark. That exit was thwarted by a man who had developed a keen interest in what one was wearing under the dress. It seemed the explorations He had conducted as we drove along needed to be confirmed... visually.

Lunch was strangely similar to the car ride. See when one said well let's go to sushi tomorrow, a thing He has been craving for a couple of weeks now, one assumed the head would have settled down. Well we know what they say about assume don't we L So there one sat watching little bits of raw and cooked seafood on tiny beds of rice trundle past. Need we say more?

Now the sex was awesome. It even took the mind of the rest of the stuff... including the fact that the head and the stomach were competing for the title of most queasy. Though why He thinks the begging skills need to be improved is quite beyond one. To be honest one suspects He just enjoyed the sound of it yesterday... a little too much.

There one is on the cusp of an orgasm and there He is saying no. It was getting very dire and desperate towards the end... not to mention painful. Even when He said cum for me it wasn't that simple. He made one do it a few times... until one was begging him to stop.

And the nap? Ah yes one of us got about 20 minutes before the nausea got going again and the other one of us settled in for a solid four hours. By seven o'clock one went in to poke the bear... it was so fucking unfair that He was just there snoring gently...

There are limits dammit!

Touch a touch a touch...

Lying in bed with the aftermath of yesterday and day two of the migraine it was shaping up to be a day of achieving very little. He was obviously of the same mind because he was snuggled up as well wielding an assortment of remotes. Of course one small slave had a different vision of the day's outcome as it turned out. It was not the snooze fest one envisioned at all.

Every few minutes a hand slid out to aggress a nipple. Just long enough to make one scream... honestly it is like nails on a chalkboard. After about half an hour one pulled out the sick card and waved it valiantly. It was futile... actually it was countered with well normally I would be having sex which you aren't up to. It's very hard to argue with that...

After a couple of hours of this it was getting to the stage that the body was trying to curl away from the aggressor. He just pounced and hunted them down... it looked like a dog chasing peanut butter out of one of those toys. When He tired of that he just pinned down the arms and went for the nipple instead. It was dirty pool!

This went on all day. Over the course of a day one tried feeble struggles, pleading, whining, logic... in fact one even took time to point out that touch carried out past a certain point was singularly unpleasant. Hell one even tried no in a firm tone... that one was just mown over like it wasn't a word at all. In fact one did ask if His dictionary was a different issue from everyone else's.

At the end of the day He said well you have stopped coughing every time I touch your breasts. I think we can call that a success. The desensitising seems to have worked.

Blink! In what universe is sickness supposed to be used as time to reprogramme your slave? Mutters OK obviously this one, but dammit where is the slave protection society or the union for that matter? 

Bloody Sunday

Sunday is a bad day at work, that is to say no one wants to work it. Well except for one small slave who loves the fact that we have breakfast together and it is only five hours until we are reunited. This Sunday though did not start so well... in fact one rather suspects it was a mild case of food poisoning. Never the less being the eternal optimist one tottered off to work thinking it would have to be finished by 10 o'clock. It seems one was mistaken... in fact He took one straight back home to recover.

The body though had other ideas... it seems it was not content with the chemical cocktail that had already been poured into it. It decided that the day needed to finish with a baaaad migraine. Needless to say nothing much happened around here. Actually that isn't quite true. There were a lot of funny incidents...

Umm... for the record Him going out to get a pizza as one dozed and putting the box on the recycling is hardly "getting dinner and doing the dishes"... whatever He may claim.

But the brain is mush and so they were lost in a haze of illness and assorted medications. And on that note one is going back to bed...

The EKKA's coming

He got on board the bus, a tall rawboned man with the sandblasted countenance and oddly rolling gate of someone who had spent many years outdoors on a horse. His clothes spoke country too, from the battered hat, neat shirt and clean well worn boots, to the carefully pressed dark jeans with the cuffs turned up. The bus driver greeted him like a long lost friend, which as it turned out they were, asking what he was doing in these parts.

Oh I'm off to the show to steward the wood chop, he replied in a voice that was designed to carry across great distance. I do it every year

In the next twenty minutes one learnt things about the bus driver that one had been woefully ignorant of... it seems he was a jockey in his day... well that explained his short stature. The other gentleman had worked the shows and rodeos that crisscross this vast land. All the small shows feed into the annual show in each state including the EKKA in Brisbane.

A place one dreams of showing a quilt in... it was meant to be this year, but life kept getting in the way.

They both had been bad boys in their day between the drinking and the brawling and now they both were constantly chased by their doctors to remove skin cancers with alarming regularity.

They passed the trip by exchanging stories about people they knew in common...

Do you remember so and so?

Which one was he?

He was the one that could ride anything... he used to get up and just lay down on the animal and they couldn't shift him.

Oh he had incredible balance... he just used to lay there as they bucked and kicked

Yeah, blackfella of course (as though that explained everything). Well he's dead. Went down a gully and his horse rolled on him.

Damn shame, they don't make riders like that any more

What happened to so and so?

Oh he's still chopping... never seen anyone so precise with only one arm. His father's still chopping too

His father was the biggest man I've ever seen

Yeah, but he could chop like no one else. It's a dying art, the young just aren't interested.

No the shows aren't the same. This one used to be a real country show and the EKKA? It's full of kids who don't know or care where their steaks come from. All they're interested in is show bags.

It was on the tip of one's tongue to point out that the children were often very interested in the animals. They were usually in the petting shed patting their future steaks... but one stayed quiet. As a former country mouse one knows not to poke the grumpy bears J

The miserable fuckers

As of next week one will no longer be on the Thursday evening shift at work. This has happened because staffing levels have dropped so low that we can't cover the day shift... to the point that if someone is sick we are screwed. So their brilliant decision is to move one in earlier and put an untrained junior in the section for the last part of the day. It's another super idea from a company that prides itself in customer service... obviously from 9-5.

Now don't get one wrong. Much though one does care about the customers, one has no doubts but that they will survive. No, the actual problem is that there will be no more leisurely breakfasts together, followed by sex and a lift to work on a Thursday morning. Of course on the bright side it will free one up to go to the gym in the evening to work off all that spare energy...

Yeah it still doesn't make up for losing all that contact time with Him L

Today's epiphany

We were in bed and He was whispering deeply distressing things in one's ears. It was a darkly disturbing tale of tying one up and using the wand indiscriminately, unfettered by one small slave's feeble struggles. Now being the paranoid type one assumed He was talking about the Neon Wand so there was no real pleasure to be had in His tale. As it turned out He was talking about the Hitachi wand.

Will you be using it past the point of pleasure?

Probably, He replied

Well then it doesn't matter which wand it is... either way it will not be pleasurable for one small slave.

It was at that moment, in a time of perfect clarity, that one realised that the real reason ball gags were invented was not, as Master has suggested, to stop slaves using a safeword. They were meant to be used on Masters to stop them whispering their vile plans in our ears.

Who knew that once again we were doing it wrong? Now how to get Him to wear it...

How do they always know?

Scampering back in from the quilters all that was needed was some water, some caffeine (not necessarily mixed together) and to stop moving. The coffee was just made and one was idly wiping down the bench while contemplating a biscuit to go with it, when the door slid open and He appeared. Grabbing one by the hand He started to lead one to the bedroom...

Umm... coffee?

Sex, He replied firmly

But the coffee is made...

You said when you went out that you would put me back to sleep when you came home if I woke up.  

Yes, but that was before coffee was made... 

Well I'm awake

Already one could feel the argument being lost. It wasn't just the whining, wheedling tone one had adopted; it was the fact that He doesn't drink coffee nor understand the perfect temperature thing L

Come and sit on my face He said.

Sighing one complied and squirmed around as He proceeded to find as many sore spots as he could... there was quite a few might one add. It was when He reached up for the poor nipples that one really squeaked in protest...

Then come and sit on my dick He said, as though it was the most reasonable of compromises

But that is really going to hurt too...

And it did... made all the worse by Him saying faster, harder, make me cum

And the coffee was cold by the time He was finished torturing using one small slave...

Bastard!