Mixed messages

Oh have I found the plug for you, He sings out from the office...

Of course at the time one was actually doing something important... not important enough to remember what it was of course... but one does remember the sense of annoyance at having to stop it to go and see what He was crowing about...

On the screen was a large glass butt plug. No prizes for guessing what colour it was, 'cos we all know His little sense of humour.

Look it's in your favourite colour He chirps

It's probably not that colour really. You know how purple doesn't reproduce well and how it often has to be enhanced.

Oh I think it is that colour. It is on the box as well He retorted

Unlikely. See one of us knows how to lower expectations... sales remember?

You know for a person who is trying to create a positive reaction to the colour purple one can't help but think that His plan has gone off the rails a little of late. In fact He seems to be sending somewhat mixed messages... a fact one pointed out to him.

This little game continued over the course of the evening as He found some truly beautiful art glass butt plugs. Some of them were Vaseline glass that glowed under black lights. A few of them had carnival glass in them. Many of them were pink. He took particular care to show those ones... more than once... as he shuffled between the pics.

OMG He is trying to shift one's perceptions of pink to a more favourable position

One small slave is so awake to what He is doing.

Mind you one or two of them were very pretty...

Bastard!

Ever present

There are people in the BDSM community that believe that the 24/7 crowd are myths. We are the fairies and the elves of the BDSM world. They seem to come to this conclusion because to them BDSM and power exchanges are for the duration of a scene. Subsequently because life is not one long scene, we don't exist.

Well they are right about one thing; we don't scene 24/7 at all. As readers of this blog can attest a lot of time is devoted to extremely unsexy stuff... all of it work related in some way. What doesn't change though is who has the power. Oh one might take a pass or two at the fence... often with remarkable enthusiasm at times... but ultimately only one of us is really in charge. That never changes... it is a constant, relentless thing.

It is one of the many reasons that the term power exchange is a bit useless as a descriptor. There is no passing back and forth like the word exchange would imply. And shoving the word total in front of the term power exchange doesn't make it any more useful. Round here power is more of a one way street... often terminating in one small slave's arse. It is strange how round here all paths lead to that destination... one way or the other L

Meh BDSM terminology... it hardly clarifies things at all. No wonder we so often end up at complete odds with each other. Mind you it might help if the other side would stop saying that we don't exist. Unlike our fae cousins, we don't die whenever they say we aren't real. If anything we just get more annoying J

A day of miracles

As one was juggling morning mouse, an omelette in the pan and stuffing a copious amount of food into a lunch box... just imagine a normal lunch box on steroids and you are getting the idea of the size of the damn thing... the phone rang. Cursing one dropped a couple of things and started to rummage through the handbag to find it...

Only to hear His dulcet tones offering one a lift to work. He had got an early mark and had decided to squander it on one small slave... squeeee

Anyway we pull up to work and as one was about to scramble out after a quick and grateful goodbye He turns around and says I'm coming too, we'll go and look at the gloves.

Mutters should have known there was no such thing as a free ride L

So with a heavy bag and a heart to match one trudged along to the shop to peer listlessly in the window at all the pretty pink Playboy stuff... gack!

And just when you think that there is no God...

The heavens open up and a small ray of light bathes you in hope...

There were no gloves on display

So one went inside to ask...

Nope, all gone.

Though the sales assistant said there might be some in their other store. So off He drove on the hunt... leaving one small slave behind... with crossed fingers.

Arriving home one made a quick search...

No gloves

Squeeeee!!!!

Yes He will have his revenge, but...

Does a small happy dance J

The secret life

As one has commented before it is interesting where one small slave's arse turns up. It usually seems to be hanging out with a young and fast crowd. Today though one found out it has been having this whole secret life. Apparently it has been living in Mexico married to some fetishist on Fet for the last five months, for he claims that it is the arse of his wife.

You know one really does get the idea that words mean whatever you want them to mean. It is a natural conclusion of a post postmodernist society in some ways. If you keep deconstructing things eventually it will lose its meaning, however one had not realised that fetishist and fantasist were the same thing. And yet that does seem to be the case...

Why else would you not only use some random stranger's pics (which honestly one has no issues with, it's the net and it's almost impossible to stop even if you wanted to. Besides it is always interesting to see where pics end up), and not only claim them as your own, but wax lyrical about how good the plug was and how you have both worn yours for weeks at a time and how he had it specially made to be wider... Bet MEO didn't know they did that kind of custom work :)

FFS dude get a grip...

You could have just bought the larger one :)

For that matter you could have just bought one, done the pluming work that you laid claim to, got the wife to wear it and take pics that look similar to this... 

And found out for yourself that your fantasy of wearing it for weeks at a time was... a lot more uncomfortable than you ever dreamed. Most fantasies are... actually so are a lot of fetishes...

Oh... suddenly there is a glimmering of how the words got mixed up

It wasn't his corset wearing cutting off his air supply after all

Umm... those corset wearing pics on his profile were him right? 'Cos it would be a shame if the arse had made a bad choice...

Though it might explain why every other pic on his profile is marked Steelworks, MEO and BMEZINE.com Shannon Larratt; Dated from 1999-2007 Do not republish... all of them followed by a © 

It might also explain why he keeps changing colour too...

Today in review

He got yanked in to work an extra shift for someone so it was a strange day. Tuesday He was in bed by 2pm... which did mean that one got to catch up on some of those domestic chores... like the hamper of gym gear. Yes there is that much of the stuff that it lives in a hamper. And it is a strange assortment of things; thongs in case one ever needs to use a shower, a bikini for the sauna (Why can't we just move past all that modesty stuff and be naked?), sports bras (Now there is some serious design in action. Even the underwires have a squishy gel bed so they don't rub (found that out when one of them ruptured... ewww)), yoga pants, tops, an assortment of t-shirts, spare laces, leather gloves, cotton gloves... You are starting to see why it is never going to fit in the miniscule wardrobe the one is allotted.

Anyway it meant that He was home at 6am and one small slave was there to greet him at the door... suitably naked of course. We had breakfast, went to the gym for a workout... According to Him the mezzanine floor offers a prime position for looking straight down one's cleavage as one lifts below. Yeah thanks for sharing that. Went home had a shower together... well one's arse and His dick had a shower together when we overlapped. Now here is a bit of trivia...

"Did you know, if you lose 35 pounds, if you’re a male, you are gaining one inch of penis length?" 

Dr. Oz

Of course it isn't really growing; more that as the fat pad leaves the supra-pubic area it reveals more of the penis. Well for the record that extra was jammed in one small slave's arse and also for the record, it could feel it.

After that He went and got prawns for lunch and then tottered off to bed. So it has been a strange weekend. And to be honest one kinda missed Him... even though the extra penis left a lasting impression L

Pain without pleasure

Yesterday was spent running through the gym programme because there is always something new, a different way of doing something old and the Personal Trainer (PT) at the gym was very... thorough. You know one has this little theory that if reincarnation exists, then we don't come back from being someone exotic, like Cleopatra or Napoleon, to being someone quite normal this time around. No, what one thinks happens is that we come back as more of what we were last time around. In some past life PTs were members, very active members, of some little inquisition.

The upshot of the run through was that one small slave did the equivalent of three days worth of programmes in an hour. Today the body called foul. Actually it called far worse than that... and the PT might have been called a few things as well. First off the shoulders registered their complaints... which were quite numerous. Those one was expecting. Upper body strength is not really one's forte.

Then the pecs went... have you any idea how essential they are for everything?  Next the biceps went out in sympathy all but rendering one immobilised... except that housework still needed to be done. The thighs weren't happy, but then squats and lunges don't make anyone happy... well except for Him. He loves one small slave up in the jockey position L

And just when one thought that all the votes were in, the triceps added their formal protest late in the afternoon. Oh and there is a bruise on the shin the size of a teacup... not sure how that happened, but one suspects that it is related to the gym in some way. So yes... pain. Lots of pain and none of it inflicted by Him.

Not that the above statement should be read in any way as a complaint, hint, ideas board or a cry for help in some sick and twisted universe.

Oh and we did manage to squeeze in some very mutually satisfying sex while the roast lamb was cooking. There were several orgasms all round. And so long as one didn't try to do anything that involved movement... on a large scale... it was all kinds of awesome J

Whimsy

Well today we trotted off to the gym to get programmes done. They are brutal programmes if the pain that is starting already is anything to go by, but they are very different. One small slave's is heavy on weights... OMG is it possible to develop a crush on a piece of equipment because one thinks that actually happened... with cardio days interspersed, while His is essentially interval training with a bit of equipment thrown in for toning. His job actually involves a lot of lifting and he has no real desire to get any bigger across the shoulders... there are t-shirts he wants to reunite with... all of them geeky J

In amongst His programme though he requested a bit of boxing... colour one surprised. It was interesting watching though that He, who is the least athletic of persuasion, showed a natural aptitude for it. Watching this it looked like fun... to the extent that one considered joining Him as part of the cardio component of one's own programme. And there was where things developed a strange looking glass turn for the... worse seems a little dramatic, but one will go with that.

See boxing gloves are a bit like bowling shoes... fastidious people are inclined to want their own and they aren't expensive. So of course He wants gloves of his own and turning to one he asks, can I buy you a pair too?

Now, one was a little surprised at this offer... He is a generous man, but doesn't normally offer to buy one small slave sporting equipment. So with a feeling of slight trepidation one said yes... waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Oh good I know just the pair I want to get you, He said brightly.

The hairs raised just a little...

I saw this fabulous pair of Playboy boxing gloves in the shop opposite your work. They are full leather, have the logo on them and are bright pink.

Now personally one goes for rather sombre workout gear... black 'cos you get sweaty and subsequently dirty... all of it the same... 'cos it is damn hard to find gear that has a racer back and will actually go across 38F breasts and all of it terribly practical and easy to clean. It's a strange concept, but generally one goes to the gym to sweat. Looking stylish or cute is not on the agenda...

And to this mix He wants to add pink Playboy boxing gloves.

For one brief and hopeful minute one thought He was taking the piss...

He wasn't L

In fact no amount of pointing out the fabulous red ones while we were out shopping for His gloves seemed to sway him...

Look if they aren't suitable He said, referring to the Playboy ones, I will get you a pair of those, pointing to the bright pink Everlasts.

Don't want pink gloves.

I think you'll look cute in them He replied. They're whimsical, He added.

This is His way of trying to level the gym playing field isn't it? He is trying to handicap one small slave. Oh and buying one a red squash racket... that was just carrying on the aversion therapy wasn't it? L

Velcro is evil

Scampering in from work one grabbed a quick meal before we went round the corner to the gym, followed by some laundry, dinner, showers and off to bed for what one thought was going to be a pleasant little quickie before going to sleep. It's strange how things never seem to work out like they do in your mind. 'Cos what transpired was neither pleasant nor quick...

First off He pounced, rolled one over and before one could squeak out the safeword, let along spell it...

Oh yes, that was a conversation that came up over breakfast. He was threatening one over food... can't remember what it was, but one wasn't enjoying it. In complete exasperation one called red. Nothing happened. So one tried Rumpelstiltskin... just in case things had changed. And then one remembered Him saying that the word was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. On the off chance He hadn't been kidding one tried it out.

The fucker turned round and said, spell it...

That can't be right surely? That can't be how it works... 'cos it is a lousy system if it is.

Anyway back to being pounced on...

Before one knew what was happening He had one trussed up in a Sportsheets Bondage Bar that we had picked up ages ago. It is portable, lightweight and quite innocuous if shoved in the bottom of a bag as it flattens out along the thin, ridged bar to measure about 43 cm (17'). In other words it's perfect for taking away... not that we got to use it last time. So there one was trussed up, face down arse up (that almost went without saying didn't it?) with wrists and ankles trapped in Velcro, while He is attacking body parts with His fingers and the Wanachi Multi. It probably sounds all sexy and stuff...

It wasn't. There is nothing sexy about not being able to breathe properly with a rapidly developing kink in the neck and hair that is insisting on trying to get in your mouth. Anyone who has ended up in that position can attest to that. Not to mention the whole drooling thing... shudders quietly

Taking pity on one small slave He rolled one over and renewed his attack, before finishing off with His dick buried deep in one's arse, as one lay there as helpless as an upturned beetle. That bondage bar is vile. The bloody thing is almost impossible to get out of. It's not going in the favourite toy category at all. In fact one is starting to suspect that Velcro is Satan's tool...

Sighs He is not of that opinion... and apparently his is the only view that counts.

A few minutes after He had finished with one small (and feeling decidedly ruffled) slave, as one was sitting in the office meditating on both the anal abuses that had just occurred and the idea of Velcro being the tool of Satan, He marched in saying stand up. As one did so He shoved one over the desk and proceeded to sodomise the poor abraded arse again with short vicious strokes while making one say how much one enjoyed being fucked in the arse by him.

At that point it wasn't true at all. It was hurting. A lot. In fact way more than it should have.

Vile oppressor, one slung at His retreating back

He laughed and went to bed leaving one bleeding, dripping cum and without a tissue in sight. This was not the night one had in mind at all L

Waxing lyrical

This post is one small slave taking a moment to say how absolutely awesome it is having gym on the corner. Now, one is doing this not to celebrate the fabulousness of being able to run (quite literally) there and back, though that is a point in its favour, nor to rave about how convenient it is to be able to slip a meal in the oven and come home to it cooked, though that too does have a certain favourable quality. No, this is being written to remind oneself how positive this all felt...

Because next week one starts back with the weights...

And it is going to hurt...

A lot.

Over the next few weeks muscles are literally going to be ripped apart to make them regrow... bigger and stronger than before.

The pain is constant and ever present.

And one suspects that it will not feel so positive or awesome at all.

So this is a reminder that in the beginning this was all a good idea.

See... not a masochist... just more masochistic than some J

No, no, no

You know you come home, make a quick roast lamb meal, peel a few prawns for a snack later on, make a cup of tea and plop down at the computer...

And up pops this on the screen.

You know for the record no amount of waxing lyrical about the sensations it produces or how, with expert wielding, it isn't going to leave marks can disguise its true purpose...

He's trying to get rid of the last vestiges of attachment one has to the colour red.

This is aversion therapy

Bastard!

Clear as mud

Do you think we are hardcore He asks, wandering out of the study.

Us? Oh we are complete pussycats. Now Scott and kaya are hard core. We will never be like them... there was a small prayer of thanks after that statement... no offense guys J Mind you, we are regarded as hardcore, dangerous fringe dwellers by many in the BDSM community, not only because you cross over lines of consent all the time, but because we have nothing to do with them. We live our lives without some little oversight committee breathing down our necks the loving embrace of a community. Ergo we must be dangerous while Scott and kaya's relationship is conducted in plain view, making them regarded with far less suspicion... though probably a lot more fear J

Meh guess it depends entirely on who is looking at us. Why do you ask?

Oh I was just looking at the handkerchief code and it is black for hard core BDSM and grey for soft He replied.

You know one has often commented that truth may be the first thing people ask for, but is often the last thing they want to hear. This was one of those times. What on earth was He doing or for that matter reading? Sometimes it is better to not ask. Unfortunately that solution focused brain had already skipped off with the question...

Perhaps one of each would be the solution... oh wait...

There was this fabulous invention called talking... oh wait...

We have all seen how that goes

Meh stay at home without the benefit of hankies it is J

The challenge

Flying round like a mad thing doing breakfasts, lunch and the last little bits of housework... you know one worked out that days off used to total nearly three and a half and are now down to two... no wonder there aren't enough hours in a day to do anything pleasurable. And housework is never, ever going to be pleasurable... frankly there isn't enough time to spend mooning around the washing machine as one whit suggested. Anyway in the middle of all of this He asks what time do we need to leave here? Umm... about 9.20. At the time it was about 8 o'clock.

Well if you finish everything that needs to be done I'll take you to bed for a licking. Now the man has a very talented tongue so it was a good offer. Of course life got in the way and it was 9 o'clock before everything was done. Being practical... hell there was an orgasm on offer... one suggested that we go to bed for a quick bit of mutual masturbation instead... much faster you see.

So one screaming orgasm later, with His cock buried deep in the still sore from last night's reaming arse, one scampered off to work...

Leaving lunch on the bench...

And wondering, once again, how all paths lead to one small slave getting fucked in the arse

The downside...

Of lingerie shopping online is that it is available to anyone with a credit card...

Including Him L

Oh don't get one wrong we chose the good stuff together, but still the joke panties arrive... with no warning L

Surprise!

Stumbling out of bed one started to cross over to the source of all mornings... the kettle. Only to be shocked into wakefulness by a strange apparition... the sight of Him dressed in exercise gear.

Want to come to the gym with me?

Hell no. It's pre-mouse. There is no exercise before morning mouse or food

Oh come on it will be a great start to your day

No it won't. It's not even 6.30 am and you know... no morning mouse

He lingered in the doorway chirping away like an annoying (insert insect here... it was too early to identify the species) while bobbing around in the line of sight. All of which made one curl protectively around the mouse with narrowed eyes and a growing sense of annoyance. Seeing one was not scuttling to the door dutifully with Him he trotted off leaving one in a much better frame of mind.

Well it was until one mentally calculated how much housework, laundry and shopping had to be squeezed in over the next two days. The two miserable days that now constitute one small slave's days off. Sighing one ignored most of it in the pursuit of mouse and in fact one was still engaged in that pursuit when He came back from the gym.

When are we going to Yum Cha He enquired

Well the thought was that one would make breakfast, do some of this domestic stuff and then we could leave here about 11 am. Does that sound alright with you?

So three changes of outfits (it is amazing how a few kilos off and nothing fits the same way it did last time) and three changes of boots (OK that one was purely trying to find the right boot for the skirt and micro nets one was wearing) off we scampered for a leisurely Yum Cha lunch. With one small slave sporting some of the new underwear that had arrived courtesy of an online lingerie store and British Post.

Not a word about the colour OK?

We wended our way home via a sports shop to get Him new gloves and to replace his old squash racket for the game he has booked in for Saturday. Him and his little school chum (who also joined the gym and seemed way too keen about the bar that is being installed) are going to kill themselves at this rate...

Mind you it would mean peaceful mouse...

Peers around furtively does that make one selfish? 

The human fleshlight

On Fet one often sees sneering comments about sexual slavery as though it was somehow not a valid type of service. It's not surprising as most people associate sex with some pleasant, mutually fulfilling act... provided it's done right. Now we have a great sex life and considering we have been together 15 years one is always grateful that we still have sex at all. So many couples drift into a sort of sexless companionship mode after that length of time. It's not always by choice, but more circumstances conspiring against them and often they don't know how to reconnect as sexual beings. Hell sometimes the desire to do so just isn't there.

We are not those people. No sex makes us edgy and disconnected because it is how we communicate. If for some reason we start spiralling along the edge of the no sex vortex one of us soon pipes up and says something. Other times one is just pointed to the bedroom and used like a convenient orifice. Enjoyment is not necessary for both of us... in fact it is more of a luxury at times.   

Tonight was one of those times...

Called to the bedroom from important things like catching up on housework... a notoriously hard thing to do with a partner on night shift... He requested (do you like that word?) a hole to cum in. 

Which one would you prefer?

Either will do, but you know which one I prefer was His reply.

That might be difficult with the knee... you should see the bruise from the other day

Well in that case you will just have to be on your back... something that makes anal very painful

Hate you one muttered, stalking out of the room

You are going to get the lube aren't you He asked, in that tone

Yes... it was a slightly resigned, defeated, mumbled affirmation, but still a yes.

Coming back into the room one applied lube and got onto the knees very gingerly. He slid in gently, forcing the arse to open up. After a few gentle thrusts He proceeded to fuck it without a thought in the world other than his pleasure. No squeak of protest or pain deterred Him from his path as he held one firmly in place, rocking one back and forth along the length of his cock. Faster and faster went the pace until with a grunt He came.

Thank you Master, one said in a dutiful tone as He disengaged leaving cum firmly deposited deep in one's arse...

And feeling for all the world like one had been used like a human fleshlight.

See sex isn't always a mutually fulfilling thing at all. There aren't always rainbows and birds chirping or stars and rocket explosions. Sometimes it is simply being used for someone else's sexual gratification. And if that isn't a service one doesn't know what is.

Where the whole slave thing comes in is mentally adjusting to being used in this way... some times for days at a stretch... without becoming resentful or hostile to Him. It makes one feel used and violated on a very fundamental level and one small slave adjusts. Why you may be wondering? Well one adjusts because this is part of how we communicate. We are not in an equal relationship, however much He may adore one small slave.

So to those who sit and sneer at sex as a form of service one has only this to say...

You're doing it wrong J

Highs and lows

Well here we are... both with memberships to the new gym on the corner. And heavens haven't they spent some money on equipment... all of it in bright orange. Walking in there was this horrible flashback moment to the 70's. Still no doubt it will tone down with wear and go hopefully the way of that new smell. See gyms are supposed to have a certain smell... the smell of pain. Not the smell of strong adhesives it is currently wearing J

In other news work is trying to destroy our comfortable existence by putting one on an extra shift. It will only be until Christmas and one normally works extra hours until that time, but this is an extra day. Neither of us is looking forward to a day less together, but we are acutely aware that we are both lucky to have steady employment in the current market. Sighs why is it when you know you should be grateful that you are less inclined to be so? L

So yes not a whole lot happening, but all of it ensuring that there is less hours in a week... how the fuck does that happen?

Unexpected outcomes

As some of you may know at the beginning of the holidays we embarked on a wellness campaign. Between our assorted medical 'issues' the best diet is higher in protein and fresh vegetables, low in fat and carbohydrates... particularly the junk kind. Read that as they were removed altogether except for one small serving at breakfast and they had to be high quality carbs.

We entered into it expecting the worst... grumpiness, hunger pangs, cravings... to name but a few. As it turned out the reality was different, as it so often is...

Oh don't get one wrong. The cravings for the first few days were hideous. And for the first week and a half one small slave was slightly psychotic. Between the mood swings, the not sleeping and the overwhelming urge to kill Him... who knew that sugars were so important as mood stabilisers J

But here we are X kilos lighter, not craving quick energy boosting foods, not hungry... ever.

Of course the sheer amount of time spent cooking, planning and thinking about food is staggering. See generally one doesn't think about food very much at all. We work different shifts, eat different foods (one of us actually likes vegetables rather than arguing that green is Mother Nature's way of warning us that something has gone bad) and so we generally resort to something quick. That is to say we look at the idea of food, shrug and going meh... not that hungry or worse grab some bread... slathered in butter of course. In fact the only time one really eats well is when going to the gym regularly.

There have also been some interesting developments on His wellness front. Most of them seem to be in the form of an ever present hard on. Seriously before it used to go down between things... now it barely draws breath.

Could the arse get any luckier...

Or sorer?

Yeah it probably can L

Disclaimer: That last question was in no way meant to be read as a challenge or asking for it.

Random stupidity for the week

Sitting on the bus one noticed that a new bedding shop has opened up right next door to the funeral parlour.

That bit of juxtapositioning made one chuckle all the way to work J

Cursed

In our kitchen there are large tiles that are fine... unless moisture should happen to land on them and then it is every skater for themselves. Now why is one boring you with this little bit of trivia you may be wondering. Ahhh well we are about to get to that...

Coming out of the study one slipped and fell, landing heavily on the knee and managing to bang up both a finger and a toe. It was a heavy fall... it damn well caused a shriek of pain and quite a few tears.

Are you all right? He asked from the other room

No! For fucks sake who can't tell the difference between a shriek of frustration caused by blogger and a shriek of pain?

He came out to inspect the damage. How badly is it hurt? He asked solicitously

Bad! What, the tears weren't a clue?

Where does it hurt?

The knee hurts... the toe is fucking killing though. Why is it that all the pain receptors in one's body seem to be concentrated in the toes? What sick and twisted bit of design was that?

This is all my fault He said

Blinking in shock... in fifteen years those words have never come out of His mouth... in fact "wasn't me" is a stock standard phrase when confronted with any type of bruises. Well yes it is, one retorted pithily. That water was from when you stood there dripping all over the floor after your shower. If only we had followed the 128 rules. 

Oh I don't mean that He replied airily. I meant this is all my fault because I had plans for your body... bound on your knees. Guess that is out of the question now. He looked mournful... rather like a child who has just lost an ice cream... before brightening at new prospects.

What sort of a man stands there over your bruised and banged up body considering better sexual positions? That was the question one asked oneself while hobbling back to the chair in the study.

In fact that was still being contemplated later when the phone rang...

Don't hang up, said a desperate sounding voice. I know you're there... you answered the phone. Look I know it's your last day of holidays, but I was hoping you could come into work.

Fucking cursed! It's the only possible answer L

Our last night

It was late, but we were determined to get in one last round of decent sex... read that is when one gets to cum... preferably in comfort... before our holidays ended. How do they always end so quickly? We didn't achieve a single thing on our extensive sexual bucket list. There is a pile of toys unused, including the equine speculum... not that one was in any real rush to try that one to be honest. The bloody thing is the length of one's arm and bigger in size.

So there we are, finally collapsed in bed chatting idly. The topic of conversation was His fetish of exhibiting one small slave via this blog. Well actually the topic was His enjoyment of viewing the pictures and how they are the best kind of porn to him as they all involve a memory of the act; how it felt, smelt and sounded. It was at that point that one small slave felt obliged to inject a little reality into the conversation by commenting that it couldn't go on forever. There would come a point that one would be too old and wrinkly to be doing this stuff on a public blog.

Never, He declared. We will go on to shake the dominant paradigm of what is sexually attractive. We will show them that you can be old and still have a great sex life.

Umm... don't wanna be a pioneer. Please don't turn one into granny porn.

Ahhh... but it isn't about what you want is it He retorted. Besides it will get better. We will create holograms. Well we already can, but it will take a while for the technology to get smaller and cheaper.

By this time one was retreating from Him and his ideas... there was a slow steady creep to the other side of the bed. Unfortunately He noticed and grabbed hold of one in an inescapable hold, while simultaneously pouncing on unprotected body parts. There was a feeble squeak of protest... one that was firmly gagged by a hand squeezing a vulnerable nipple in a vice like grip.

You're supposed to be over here He said... in that tone

And with that one small slave was made to lay compliant in His arms masturbating until aroused.  Which wasn't easy given the images dancing in one's head...

Please may one have some lube?

Suck my cock was the reply

Umm... don't think that is going to be enough. Please, please...

Oh all right He said.

And really the capitulation should have warned one that things were not going to be that easy.

As one lay there propped up on bended knees He entered the arse with a slow, unrelenting precision... forcing the arse to open up to him.  He braced himself with one hand on the headboard while his other hand snaked under one's body to grab a nipple. Kneeling there one started to masturbate as He slowly fucked one in the arse. It felt so good...

And the arse started to relax and open up...

Then He gripped the nipple so one was trapped with nowhere to go and no way to get there without hurting something even more than it was already being hurt.

It was at that point... just as the orgasm was building that He picked up the pace, brutally fucking the arse with speed and ferocity.

As one cried out in pain... a pain that was overriding the orgasm... He started to cum. Thrusting deeper and deeper He came. All the while one knelt there trapped between two conflicting sources of pain that held one in place. Spent He rolled off... still hard

One lay there eyeing off the enemy, silently pleading with it to not to turn this way again

Seeing the look He chirped well I'm ready to go again if you are

Yeah have to say... sometimes it is better to fly under the Master radar. Not to mention much, much safer L

Art and humour

Today was once more spent in the city due to the car being in for the second bit of work. We had a leisurely breakfast while waiting for a specialty bra shop to open... we'll get back to that later. Now where we go for breakfast is in an old arcade... one of the last remaining couple of them in the city. They are lovely old things with little shops with huge glass windows surrounded by dark wood, marble and wooden floors and a glassed in atrium in the centre. In this case they also took the unique step of planting a tree that would never need maintenance.

The arcade also sports the world's tiniest public conveniences. Honestly you can't get two women with large handbags past each other without contact, laughter and apologies. It was while sitting in the miniscule cubicle that one noticed this bit of graffiti on the door.

Of course being INTJ the first thought was well that's not really a prayer. There is none of the pleading, wheedling or negotiations normally associated with a prayer. Hell it's even lacking in basic manners. In fact it's more of a mission statement than a prayer.

Then one noticed the reply... and burst out laughing.

So from there we tottered off to the bra shop to once again find nothing in one's size... and they wonder why the likes of one small slave now does most of the lingerie shopping online and doesn't support them. Apart from the outrageous mark ups... what one can buy online from England for $20-$40 costs $80-$120 in these places... they never seem to have stock. Or if they do one already has it... or it's ugly. Beige is rarely sexy let's be honest.

The trip wasn't a total loss though... there were some rather nice chocolate coloured tops that followed one home. And a very sexy little black dress that was an absolute steal. It's strange how sometimes you just try something on and it literally fits like a tailored glove. And with these breasts that is a rare thing... especially at that price.

All it all it was a great day filled with humour and the odd bargain J

Flying under the radar

For every person who springs one at work or the gym due to the collar, there are many more who just don't notice. Generally most people don't really care what others are up to unless they perceive them as being in their space in some way or form. Even then people will often opt to put the whole thing on ignore. His mother is a good example of that... even after bumping her shin on the stockade it was never mentioned again. It is a bit like the rack of floggers on the wall of the bedroom... it's there and there isn't a word about it.

Why is she so blind? Well amongst a myriad of reasons is that she really doesn't want to know. And most people are like this... too busy with their own lives to care enough to ask. Often on boards one sees threads requesting ideas for discrete collars and what to do when sprung and the thing is...

People don't care

People don't want to know

People don't ask

People who ask are usually in the know already

People are too damn busy with their own lives to care about yours...

It's very freeing to realise that J

Wipe out

That phrase most closely resembles the day... a complete wipe out might even be closer. The migraine that came home with us from the coast grew to epic proportions, until even the migraine meds couldn't make it go away. Then for good measure the body decided to have a sinus issue as well and closed off the eyes to small streaming slits. It was at that point that one loaded up on antihistamines and heavy duty pain meds and went to sleep.

Sighs it wasn't pretty... even He showed clemency and refrained from targeting the arse.

So with that sorry tale out of the way one is going to leave you with this...

A far more entertaining tail J

Catch of the day

Waking up for the second time this morning... the first was more a rude awakening caused by Him not shutting the bathroom door at some ungodly hour... why are people so enamoured with en suites?... there was a happy thought; breakfast. Actually it was more modern medication for the migraine and coffee type thoughts, but we will pretend that all was going swimmingly shall we? At least the room was mercifully dark J

Those little ritual needs out of the way the thoughts turned to breakfast... though His seemed to be more on slave snacks. In fact He took advantage of the generous sized shower to pound one's arse into submission... for what felt like hours. Unfettered by the miniscule space ours offers Him, he took great delight in having a lot more room to move. Most of that movement seemed to be in an onwards and upwards direction. By the time He came one was almost at the stage of begging him to stop. In fact afterwards when one said thank you Master it was with sincerity.

With one small slave's arse out of the way His thoughts turned to more pressing matters... breakfast and with that goal in mind we moseyed downstairs. Waiting to be seated in the dining room one had time to notice that all the commemorative plaques on the walls had been done without the benefit of a spirit level... which was most unfortunate because whoever had hung the pictures had used one. It was something of a relief to be shown to our seats... if only to get away from them.

Now some hotels do fabulous breakfasts... The Sheratons are usually one of them and in the past the Noosa one was no exception. Until this morning...

With gusto one tucked into a pile of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and some pancakes... all slathered in maple syrup. Well there was gusto until one bit into the pancakes. Now they were fresh off the hot plate... one saw them come in and yet they were the texture of leather. Very old, tough leather might one add. No wonder everyone was eating theirs slathered in ice cream L

Undaunted one turned to other things...

He was looking for something to drink not being a tea or coffee drinker, so one did a lap looking for the hot chocolate that is normally around. Not finding it one asked one of the staff to be informed that it was available for an extra $5.00. Fine, whatever... He's worth it.

It arrived... served in a hotel tea cup and half of it foam.

It wasn't even good hot chocolate L

Never the less we found enough to keep us fortified for the morning... the omelettes were excellent as was most of the other items. Though there were no figs... He was most miffed having developed a taste for them.

Guess Gracia

So off we ventured for a little shopping... to find that there are five types of stores left in Noosa... resort wear (a peculiar type of clothing only to be found in these areas), tourist/ gift shops (and you would have to not like someone to get them gifts from some of those), jewellery shops (you have to accessorise that resort wear), shoe shops (that specialise in shoes to go with the resort wear) and swimwear shops (you guessed it... to go under the resort wear). It all made one very glad we had squeezed in a little shopping on the way up. That was how these found their way into the luggage.

He treated himself to these vile little critters at one of the gift shops. Only an inch long and with more bite than should be allowed. They are not going to give one happy holiday memories is one's pick L

In fact if one had known how bad they were, they might not have made the trip home at all... they could have easily been lost

Bad, bad slave

Wending our way back to the hotel to pack one commented that Noosa was in a decline... which is a shame as it is a pretty place with great walks, beaches, bars and restaurants... it's just struggling to survive in a lean market that isn't being driven by the tourist dollar.

This was something that was exemplified by our hotel...

You stay in luxury hotels for a reason... to pamper yourself and we go with that in mind, but let's look at the reality of it all for a minute...

The rooms were spacious... the halls had a funky damp smell that came and went in a mysterious manner.

The king bed that is essential for a 6' bloke as the only other option is twin doubles... an extra $20

Parking was $20 and the valet service was an extra $10

Room service is one of the best reasons to stay in a hotel. These days on top of the premium price of the food, a steak runs to just under $40 (an average steak in a restaurant is $25), they now add a service fee of $8 for delivering it to the room.

Water was $9 a bottle

There is a lovely TV. It doesn't play anything other than movies... at $15 a pop or $20 for adult (read very tame adult too).

Internet connection... you guessed it $15 a day for connectivity

Local calls.... $2 a minute (local calls are not timed here and cost about .30 cents)

Somewhere along the line all the little luxuries have attracted add on fees and many of the traditional services you can get around with modern electronics. The trouble is that the hotel industry may be aware of its customers' needs; it just doesn't know how to not make you feel a little gouged or worse smile at its attempts to do so. 

As they chirped at us we hope you enjoyed your stay one couldn't help but think well we did, but there aren't too many reasons to come back any time soon... unless you like wearing resort wear and dining out. And why would you go all that way to eat?

So we wended our way home, stopping for a few groceries before pulling up in the garage to be greeted by the cat... well it lifted an eyebrow enough to see who was disturbing it. Scampering inside there was that sense of relief coming home always gives... there is nothing like your own toilet and the relative safety that a miniscule bathroom provides. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for the bedroom where He reamed the arse one more time before one drifted off in an attempt to give the medication some more time to work on the migraine... it seems it too has made it back from the coast intact L

Gone fishin'

The day of our quick getaway dawned... quite literally... one rolled over to find it was 4.45am and there was no point in going back to sleep. Considering one had only got to sleep at midnight it was not a great start. He laid there in a deep sleep... the bastard! In fact it was hours before He awoke, just in time for breakfast coincidentally.

As soon as one had finished the packing we were off for a nights stay in the Sheraton Noosa. Now we had booked there not only because we both have a weakness for decent hotels, but because their breakfasts are awesome... a topic we will return to at a later date. We had also booked in to their restaurant for the seafood buffet. On arrival we were given an upgrade to a room facing the pool... not the street which one personally prefers 'cos it is fun to curl up on a balcony and watch the people scurry by. Facing pools is always noisy... all you need is a couple of monstrous children and there goes any peace you may have been seeking.

Have you stayed with us before? the receptionist enquired brightly.

Yes, when you first opened

Oh that must have been lovely

No, not really. It was the coldest day in living memory and your heating wasn't up and running. We had to go out and buy clothes to huddle under the bedclothes in. In fact some nice man stole the manager's personal heater so we could emerge out from under the blankets to shower.

Her bright, perky face fell... oh that doesn't sound fun

No, it kinda killed the romance

She brightened in a professional manner to assure one this trip would be better....

We'll get back to that... though facing the pool one didn't hold out much hope

Flopping on the bed, for a much needed nap before dinner, one let out a squeak of delight, oh the bed is just right

Glowering He said its soft isn't it

Oh so very soft and snugly... you're gonna hate it. And it's on wheels... it will move all over the place.

He bounced on the bed experimentally... well it does make your breasts jiggle in an interesting way he declared. And with that He pounced onto one small slave for a little sex... just to try out the bed of course.

Afterwards He lay there...

You're wide awake aren't you?

Yes I am, He replied

Well personally one is going to snuggle down and have a snooze... and with that one burrowed down into the doona and pillow... brought from home of course (really one wasn't joking about that).

He went out to explore Hastings Street, an area known for boutiques and small speciality stores.

Not any more it would seem. He came back an hour or so later to report that nearly every second store had a "for lease" sign on it or a closing down sale banner... including shops that have been there for years. It would seem that Noosa is no longer the Mecca it once was. And to be honest our strong dollar isn't helping at all on that front. It had an almost eerie quality to it as we sauntered around there after dinner for a much needed stroll.

It was much needed because well... not to put too fine a point on it... we made very good use of the seafood buffet. He certainly got his monies worth out of the oysters... in fact he waxed lyrical on their superbness for several rounds. Even one small slave was tempted enough to try one... secure in the knowledge that a martini will kill almost anything. It wasn't bad... considering it wasn't smothered in batter... which is the only safe way to eat one of those things. Well that or smoked... but one digresses. There was even a rather good cheese selection to finish off with and one tempted Him to try his first dried fig. It seemed more successful than the oyster experiment.

All of that is why one was tottering after Him in four inch heels as we went for a constitutional after dinner. Why is it men always invite you out for a moonlight stroll when your feet are strapped into the modern equivalency of stilts? And give you that look when you aren't thrilled at the prospect? We finally tottered back to the hotel in a haze of gluttony... which is why the usual hot hotel sex didn't happen that night...

Well there was that under shower spanking that He delivered when we were getting ready to go out to dinner. His hand rained down with hard, stinging blows... and one couldn't feel a thing due to the impact being absorbed by the water. In fact one stood there giggling as His hand got harder and faster. Right up until the moment when the water hit the skin and the body registered how much the poor little arse was abraded. Then it started to sting like no one's business... then one stopped giggling and started to make a different noise altogether. For some reason He started to look much happier about then... but one digresses from gluttony

Honestly the body can only do so much sensation at once... ours opted for being stuffed to the gills... literally rather than figuratively... for a change.

And so once again one small slave snuggled down into a blissfully soft bed and into the embrace of sleep J

A private wet playground

For a couple of days He had been looking... pleased with himself... one would almost say smug. It is never a good look. Well not for one small slave at any rate. A delivery late in the afternoon provided some answers in the form of a neat package. It also explains our visiting a camping store the next day looking for an air pump...

Oh look you can get a mains powered one He said happily

Yes and you can get a foot operated one for half the price

So when I pull you out of bed to entertain me, you will be happy to stand there pumping away while you are busting to pee?

Umm... how very thoughtful of you Master. The mains powered one sounds like a much better idea... beams brightly while secretly mourning morning mouse

The implement:

This playground from MEO is designed for people who like messy, wet fun and games. It is perfect for the floor, on top of the bed (it measures 2X1.4 m (6' 7"X4' 7")), in a small area or anywhere else you can think of. It is 10cm (4") deep... enough to contain any mess. There are even convenient handles to carry it with or tie someone to. It can be used for massages, splodging, enema play, watersports... hell you could probably use it for jelly wrestling if you were that way inclined J

The pros:

• Made of tough vinyl
• Slip resistant
• Oil resistant
• Easily inflated with an air pump
• Easy to clean
• Folds up into its own mesh bag for easy storage
• Ideal for smaller spaces 

The cons:

• It can be a little awkward to move around, though you can let out some of the air which makes it form a shape similar to a bag, making it easier to get through a door. 

We decided that the easiest thing to do was to use a pet mat to absorb all the liquids, toss it in the shower, clean it off and then deflate it before throwing it over the pool fence to dry... which in our climate took about 15 minutes due to the black colour.

What a wakeup

After a night filled with rich carbohydrate food and a couple of drinks... you have to love diet with a free day built into it... one slept well and late. Stirring or rather rolling over and groaning against the reality of morning, one was surprised to find Him still in bed too. Normally He is an early riser... though not usually by natural inclination. Left to His own devices he would be late to bed and later to rise, if only his body clock would cooperate.

He lifted up the covers in an inviting manner... and then physically hauled one small slave over after the silent entreaty was ignored... hey even at that hour one still has some sense of self preservation J

Of course to grab one in that manner meant He had to let go of the covers which meant the doona got between us.

Now this is where things started to go a little wrong and in hindsight one can't help but think it might have been one's own fault...

Laughing one made a break for it...

Only to be scooped up in His arms, ending up face down, held in place by a nipple and his unnaturally long legs wrapped around one's own, while he proceeded to spank a newly exposed arse. And it was a long hard walloping that He delivered... in fact one lost count after about 25 on one cheek alone.

He then proceeded to violate one's intimate spaces while telling one to stop squirming. Now, one has to ask how exactly one is supposed to do that when trapped and desperately needing to pee, with someone is rubbing and squeezing and probing one's personage with long, inquisitive fingers. In fact it was something of a relief when He hauled one up onto the knees and proceeded to deliver a brutal fucking...

All of this was before morning mouse...

The day hasn't gone well since... there is this pervasive feeling of being ruffled... rather like when you rub the cat's fur the wrong way. Not that one would actually do that... whispers we respect the cat.

And you know one would like to say that it ended better, but as you can see from the pics it didn't. Here is one small slave getting ready to spend some quality time in the Njoy 2.0. In fairness one would have to say it was better than last time... the arse has learnt to adjust. But... and it is a big but... it still didn't have a good time nor did it sleep very well with that jammed in it. And as the old joke goes, the arse rules everything. If it has a bad night... so does everything else L

Food glorious food

Today was packed full of running here, there and everywhere. All of it culminating in not really achieving much other than a Yum Cha lunch and finally making it out to a work related surprise birthday party, where we managed to scamper in a hairs whisker in front of the guest of honour. A guest might one add who thought she was going out for a quiet dinner with her spouse of many years. Little did she know that he was our co-conspirator.

Nine West Keno

As we watched the little drama unfold, we looked at each other and promised feverently to never pull this kind of stunt on each other.

See time spent with people is never wasted... it gives you a new bench mark of what not to do J

It did however give one an opportunity to give these little babies an airing...

Update...

This is proof that the gods do not protect one small dragonshrew

As we were chatting over a very nice bacon breakfast the postie tooted his horn and there they were...

Beautifully wrapped and passed through customs

 

The second heaviest cuffs in the world... for once He chose not to go with his personal motto of go big or go home and elected to not get the 1.3kg model, settling instead for the 1kg model. Thrilled beyond belief He slapped them on and proceeded to put his cold, cold hands on any bit of warm slave flesh he could reach. He was completely undeterred by the struggles and screams of "hate you, you miserable fucking shit" that echoed throughout our tiny domicile L

And worst of all, in spite of the struggles and their weight, the cuffs left no trace at all.

For a change one can't point to bruises and cite abuse

This is not going to end well for one small dragonshrew

Bastard!