Two little pigs

We were sitting down watching a documentary about the BBC's Radiophonic Workshop (probably most famous for creating the theme music for Dr Who) when He said your breasts are on the play list.

What do you mean?

Look He said, rewinding to the right place. There! Pinky and Perky.

See many years ago the ex named the breasts Pinky and Perky. It was the first and only time any body part has ever had a pet name. She later amended it to Sir Pinkus and Sir Perkus as they grew much bigger, but in their youth they were Pinkie and Perky. And there they were on the screen... their names up in lights so to speak

Huh maybe she named them after some show she saw or heard as a child. The names may have stuck in the subconscious. So off one scampered to the computer to look it up and sure enough there they were. It seems it was a BBC children's program...

Pinky and Perky were named after two animated pigs...

It seems strangely appropriate J

Just in case...

You were wondering how one spent part of today...

Sigh they are just so fucking pink!

Oh there were such plans

Today is the first day of our weekend and we do not have to go somewhere, do anything, get this or that or even leave the house. It was perfect... we looked across the couch at each other as we luxuriated in the knowledge that we didn't have to leave it and made plans for the day...

The gym, some laundry, a little lunch and each other... maybe a snooze

Of course what happened was it was a free meal and had carbs so instead of the wild sexual odyssey with pictures, it became hell let's just do each other, have a snooze and have round two in a couple of hours... before dinner so we don't end up like this again.

So we did each other... a bit too well as it turned out. We had enough time to have the kind of sex we prefer... the kind that ends up with an orgasm that rattles the back teeth. It also rattled a few blood vessels judging by the bleeding that occurred afterwards. Oh He was gentle due to the fact that we haven't had time to have anal sex for so long... we still have sex just more the passing, quickie variety. That weight loss of His has culminated in the extra inch that they predicted and the arse now offers nothing in the way of protection. But! The teeth did rattle thanks to a multiple orgasm so it was worth it J

And we fell into a deep sleep...

As it turned out the sleep lasted the entire afternoon and one has woken up just in time to put dinner on...

That combined with the bleeding (which is still occurring) means that rampant sex will probably not occur.

Mind you there is a good chocolate mud cake for dessert so all may not be lost J

Realisation #92, 93 & 94

Hauling on the gym bottoms one noticed that they were wrinkly and baggy in strange places and realised it was time to move to a smaller size. Feeling quite pleased with this...

The sad thing about being an hourglass figure is that you can literally lose over ten kilos and no one notices because it comes off evenly... mind you the upside is that you can put it on the same way and the first inkling that something is wrong is not being able to do up your jeans to the tune of about an inch...

one scampered to tell Him.

That's wonderful He replied

And as one was leaving the room to find shoes He started to sing the refrain from Wonder Woman.

That's got to be abuse

And He can suck the joy out of any occasion L

Positive reinforcement

You know one was just reading on Fet about the importance of positive reinforcement... there is no time to actually reply or start anything, but due to the 12 1/2 hours of time spent commuting for the four shifts one actually works there is time to read... and it got one thinking about Him. See one is starting to suspect that He's doing it wrong. And according to Fet that is red flag too 'cos it erodes all that trust stuff that is so important.

Apparently to get the most out of your slave you need to reinforce the good behaviours... rewards and the like... hell one will respond favourable to food treats... hint, hint. Instead what happens is that He stuffs one into costumes. And one speaks as a person who has an 'I Dream of Jeannie' costume staring down from a hook as one types this. That can't be right surely?

By and large one is agreeable and obedient... glares at those who are rolling around laughing hysterically. In fact when being inserted into a costume one often asks what one has done wrong. The reply is always nothing; I just like seeing you in them. Now if one perceives costumes as a punishment and one hasn't done anything wrong, they hardly constitute as positive reinforcement...

So He's sending mixed messages

Ergo He should stop

Logic is a beautiful thing J

The blank page

Most days one sits in front of a blank page and words just come pouring out. They rush and bubble and tumble faster than the fingers can type them. Other days one sits in front of it and it just stares back. A slightly accusatory tone floats around the edges of its luminous surface... it knows there are things to be written, otherwise why would it be up. But still the words won't come...

Those are the days when the mind slips into a jumble of incoherent thoughts. They refuse to coalesce or stay on any topic. Oh one starts to think about something and before one knows it the topic has been changed. It is done like a master magician doing sleight of hand... too subtle to follow.

Today is one of those days...

A downward spiral

The day started out with a migraine... never a good beginning. It then involved slightly insane customers, discovering that the last junior with any experience in one's section has just quit right before Christmas and culminated in a one and a half hour trip home on the bus due to traffic. It was now 7pm and there was still dinner, the gym, breakfast and lunch for Him and a myriad assortment of chores to complete, including dishes, before stumbling to bed at 10.30.

Frankly it was a place that one was just grateful to be going to by that stage. And then His dulcet tone rang out, did you see the present I got you?

No, where?

In here He replied

Now He was in the study... like one had had time to go there to even look at the computer let alone do anything else. Trudging back to the study one stopped in the doorway. There hanging on a door was an 'I Dream of Jeannie' costume. There was a nun's costume as well, but it was the pink awfulness of the genie costume that had one transfixed.

Yeah present really doesn't mean what you think it means

I think it will be wonderful hearing you say "yes Master" while wearing that. In fact having you wear that while doing my bidding for a day will be a great gift. Love you He added, in that saccharine tone he uses when about to get his own way... the only acceptable way.

Yeah one has doubts after this. In fact that is another word that one suspects doesn't mean what you think it means.

Fuck you Sydney Sheldon for ever putting that meme into the universe!

A singular lack of achievement

Today culminated in another round of chasing His latest obsession...

Oh it started harmlessly enough... Have I got a game for the group. They've brought out a D20 version of the game. You'll all love it. And they did all readily agree that it was perfect. Then of course they turned and decided that they wanted to be pirates... not the nobles He had in mind. And that was where it sort of took a left hand turn...

You see the game needs miniatures and they have to be painted. Not a problem as one of our Tuesday night vanillas has been a keen miniaturist in the past... and has the space. So they made a little play date for Sunday to go to his place and start the process. There was just one tiny problem, the groups little left hand turn means that we are not going to be in house colours, one small slave is not getting a horse and suddenly He needs an army. Rather more work than the three or four nobles, all wearing blue, that He originally envisioned. So we spent the last two days on one of our road trips as He assembled paint and characters and brushes and a painting station and and and...

Nearly every flat surface in our place is covered in something pertaining to the game and the painting hasn't even begun. Oh no, He is at the research stage so every computer screen is covered with how to create planking for the bases, water effects and other helpful tips... all of them requiring hours of labour... and space that doesn't exist.

Having lived with a modeller before one knows how this is going to go... bathrooms converted into a temporary spray booth, the oven used to bake enamels to a high gloss, the research, the lively debates about what colour the headlights should be on a continental model of a car...

Is there a sanctuary for slaves out there?

'Cos this is going to get worse...

Positive affirmations

He woke one up sneaking out of the house to go to gym. It gave one enough time to wake up, crawl towards coffee and put on a load of washing. He came back declaring that he felt pumped.

Peering at Him with a jaundiced and cynical eye one said, so you felt bloated and sluggish after the food of yesterday. It was a free day and we had the most divine lunch, followed by an excellent dinner at our Tuesday night vanillas that was finished with baked cheesecake... three different flavours of baked cheesecake. In hindsight the third flavour might have been a bit much...

No, I feel pumped. Stop spoiling my pitch. I feel pumped. I feel pumped. He recited in the same tone a small child sings I can't hear you, I can't hear you.

The jaundiced eye turned more concerned as one wondered out loud if He had been taken over by some strange otherworld creature...

I feel pumped. I go to the gym because I enjoy it and it is good for me. I go to the gym... His voice trailed off as he headed towards the laundry to strip off.

Obviously the gym air con is inadequate for this time of the year and He was about to have some sort of seizure... This is not the man one has known for fifteen years.

OMG it's happened! All those times people on forums have declared that they can turn at any time and become dangerous limb chopping monsters... It's finally happened. Of course He's become more of a self harmer than actually dangerous to one small slave, but it's only a matter of time. This is obviously the first sign

Sighs and He seemed so sane... yesterday

Sitting in the back row

Today was spent once again in the city, again with the car as it visited its uncle the mechanic, and we were left to wander the hot streets. For some reason the balmy spring has turned to a vicious summer with temperatures cranking up in the 30's already. A perfect time for the air-con to decide that now was a good time to stop working... once more L

We decided to do what all sensible people do when confronted with this kind of weather... we escaped to the cool and pleasing dark of the movies. Now movie selection was somewhat limited due to the fact the car had to be picked up by 4pm. In fact when we did the calculations the clear winner was "Looper"... actually it was the only contender. So in we scampered at the last minute...

It was the last minute because we had spent some idle time looking for t-shirts for one small slave. A fruitless pastime that one had hoped to avoid because the colour palettes and styles this spring are vile. No person with this type of colouring should wear peach or fluro orange and no human should raid their grandmother's wardrobe... unless she has awesome vintage clothes in it. Unfortunately the grandmother whose wardrobe this collection was based on seemed to favour shapeless and bland L

Anyway we slid into our seats, turned off our mobiles and settled in to watch the movie...

As one became moderately engrossed in the screen He discovered that the arm between us could be removed and one was unceremoniously hauled across to snuggle up next to him. Then an exploratory hand slid down under the skirts waistband...

Sighs one has to buy new clothes... these ones are providing no protection at all now.

Now, one has long suspected that we do not watch movies the same way and this theory was borne out by the timing of His attacks sexual affection. If one was engrossed then a hand was working its magic. If one's attention was wandering then His hand was still. Forty dollars and two orgasms later and with only a hazy idea of what was going on in parts of the movie, we found ourselves deposited into the harsh light and heat of the outside world where we got to wander around... one of us wet and both of us horny, with no way of scratching the itch... though He did somewhat impishly suggest nipping into the disabled bathroom to deal with the "issues".

You know the city has lost a lot of its gloss of late... and it would probably be much cheaper to book into a motel near the mechanic next time because there will be a next time. They managed to scratch a panel on the console while trying to put the new part in. At least it would be cool and more conducive to sex J

Some days...

You look at your loved one and feel an overwhelming urge just to kill them. Oh it's nothing they are doing per say, more a combination of little things. Small, annoying, little things... like them breathing in your presence... that add up to that urge for death. That feeling combined with a sudden sweet tooth (the nagging persistent kind) and breasts that are tender and swollen lead one to conclude that the body is getting ready to have its fake period.

And He just has to keep reaching out to tweak a nipple and squeeze a breast. That is not diminishing the urge to kill Him as he lies there...

Of course the body has chosen now to do this... one actually has a three day weekend and other than plans to do life stuff, there were plans to have lots and lots of catch up sex. Instead what will happen is a baaaad migraine and a rotten disposition.

Actually the rotten disposition is already here...

Strange how collars are not a magical ward against that either...

They really are useless things L

He is not of the same opinion...

He thinks that the collar is an essential item at this time... something about holding one in place while he still has the sex that was on the agenda

Bastard!

Compromise

Generally one firmly believes that compromise is when two people are equally miserable... 'cos let's be honest no one likes losing... not really. Every once in a while though, the idea of compromise has some merit... OK only if it is slightly stacked in one small slave's favour... but one is prepared to consider it under the right circumstances...

As some of you know He loves to torture shove one into have one wear costumes... hate them, they itch and are stupid... but the one he has always lusted after is a Wonder Woman outfit. Personally one loves the costume... on her. And for a long time there have been plenty of excuses... not tall enough, can't fit the boots (which we all know are essential)... glares at the naysayers... the arse is too big. Oh the list has been endless over the years.

The trouble is that in a fit of insanity one might have said that if one ever got back to a size 12-14 ('cos those breasts aren't going anywhere very fast) one would wear the damn costume. Secure in the knowledge that between the PCOS and the gym it would never happen...

Now as one nears that goal one is prepared to consider a compromise. How do you think this will go down? It's in the spirit of the costume surely? We can call it a gateway practise costume...

A certain type of logic

Piercings are one of those things, rather like dermal implants and tattoos, that you either find attractive or you don't. Personally one has always hankered after a belly button and nipple piercings.  The former was always a difficult proposition due the fact that there was nowhere to put it because of the shape of the belly button. Now that changed after the hysterectomy oddly enough...

When the post op swealing went down a convenient little fold of skin suddenly appeared on the navel. It sort of dropped. Not much... probably less than a quarter of an inch... just enough to have something to pierce.  Of course now the problem is the up to six months (and sometimes longer) healing process and the gym. Still tossing it up... wibble, wobble, flip, flop

His response to the nipples being pierced was an outright no. To quote Him "I don't want a mouthful of metal". Understandable you are thinking...

Then why whenever we go pass a good piercing place does He usually suggest we should think about a clit piercing? The man likes oral sex.

How is that mouthful of metal any different?

He just likes to see the look of confusion on one's face doesn't He L

Different ends of the spectrum

Today we have been together for 15 years. Hell one even remembered to say Happy Anniversary while stumbling past Him on the way to bed... alone. Not that one was in any fit state to do more by then... it was the end of a long, hot and tiring day. Anyway this is not about exhaustion. No, this is about the anniversary...

It is our crystal anniversary... apparently... and to that end He selected appropriate gifts. This brings us to the interesting point...

Umm... no, this is not going to be a schmaltzy piece about how much we mean to each other. Most who read here can get the gist of our affection for each other besides, we tell each other on a daily basis, along with how grateful we are that each other is in our life. Hey we read Fet... we've seen what's out there...
Anyway back to this... the point...

The biggest (and one suspects the only) maker of crystals is Swarovski. They have everything from their own lines of jewellery, as one has mentioned before, to making "gems" for all sorts of things. And that was what one received...

A heart for the charm bracelet 

And a gem for the other end

You could say that He had the anniversary covered J

Some people...

Are too ignorant to understand irony...

We are driving along and this car zips past us...

All black; black in colour, black mags and the darkest tinted windows allowable in this state.

The licence plate proudly proclaims...

WYT PWR

L

Pests and other problems

Today we were expecting the pest inspector... well he's more of a specialist pest inspector as it was time for the annual termite check. Termites are a problem in this area to the extent that we jokingly call this place termite hill. Those little buggers can eat a house out from under/ around you without you knowing until it is too late. So every year a little man comes out equipped with a stick and a meter to tap all the walls and skirting boards.

Now for us this means that, rather like the ex and one small (and at the time not a) slave used to have to de-dyke the house before certain guests arrived, the flat has to be toned down a smidge. That is to say one has to trot around and at least gather up all the assorted sex toys that seem to converge on flat surfaces. Sometime it is things waiting to be photographed, returned to homes after being cleaned and in some cases things that on the "to do" list... 'cos once they've been put in storage it can be years before they see the light of day.  So one laundry basket of toys later... honestly they breed the minute your back is turned... and after covering up the whack rack we were ready.

It was at this moment that Satan's little helper... otherwise known as the postie... turned up with a large box. Apparently it was our anniversary present... and again this proves that word doesn't mean what He thinks it does because nestled in amongst an assortment of things was this...

Yeah for the record one wants to state that their description lies. There is no thud. There is only pain... the bad stinging kind. And it leaves marks... OK it was only colouration, but a mark is a mark. In fact one thinks that He ordered the wrong one by mistake.
Now admittedly it would be hard to take anyone who fronted up wielding one of these very seriously, but yanno it would be a kinder, gentler option. Besides it doesn't need a practise dummy to learn on. Though one did offer Winston's services to that end...

He said no! In fact He expressed shock that one would offer up the bear in that manner.

Bastard!

Bargains and bonuses

We ended up spending one of our two precious days off in the city with the car. Honestly that car is like a Rottweiler one had many moons ago. She had a massive crush on the vet and would fake an injury to go and see him. The damn dog would limp for a week if necessary and just when you were convinced that she wasn't faking it this time, you would open the car door at the vet's only to watch her bound out of it, muscle his practice door open and run with all the grace that a large dog can muster down the hall to find him. Mind you she also had morning sickness when she had a phantom pregnancy as well... really she was the consummate method actor L

Anyway, back in the city again we trudged... though we did manage to squeeze in catching up with a friend so it wasn't a complete waste... for yet another day. It is really interesting how many businesses that have been around for twenty plus years have just shut up shop. There are shopping centres in the city that are eerily empty... businesses lured away by a brighter, shiny, newer one. Including our regular Yum Cha haunt and frankly the substitute we found was mediocre and expensive. Now generally you will forgive one or the other, but both together is an unpleasant combination L

While there though one did pick up a couple of dresses in wonderful stretch fabrics that will allow one to drop another dress size without losing all shape and some gym clothes on sale 'cos they take a hammering. Between the sweat and the continual washing they have a very short life and one hates spending good money... read way too much money... on something that is designed to fail. However, it was on the trip home that one found an absolute bargain... well two of them to be precise.

The first one was a replacement for the fabulous black and red check skirt that was bought a while back and now falls off. So this means one won't have to completely alter the damn thing... and while it is complete laziness on one small slave's part, it was on sale and frankly one doesn't have time to do the job anyway. The second bargain was this gorgeous dress...

This season there have been a lot of 50's inspired dresses around, which He loves, but the trouble with them is that when they are a perfect fit everywhere else, the damn breasts won't get into them. The dress has the same vintage feel, but because the top is bias cut they fit... squeeee. Of course one was looking at it thinking that is going to feel so cool and floaty and He looked at it and went oh that's fabulous, you will be able to wear stockings and suspenders under it...

How do they always manage to suck the joy out of things?

It's like a special talent L

The t-shirt raid

Otherwise known as 'How not to borrow or lend a t-shirt'

It has turned unexpectedly and unseasonably warm, which has been followed by a cold snap... leaving one to scramble around finding something to toss on in the cool... read bitterly cold...  mornings. And where else is a girl to turn if not to His wardrobe? There are t-shirts in there that don't fit Him anymore... one or two of which are at that lovely, soft, broken in (you will note not broken) stage. He noticed what one was up to just as the hand had alighted on a particularly nice feeling one.

What are you doing, He asked in that deeply suspicious tone.

Umm... just looking for something to wear

Why?

Umm... 'cos it's cold and...

Why are you looking in my wardrobe?

Well there aren't any in one's own meagre collection.

He made that sort of grumbling, growling sound of extreme reluctance to share.

I know which one you are after He said

Umm... no... 'cos it's in the wash... already checked you see. But this will do one added, triumphantly hauling out the object of the fingers affection.

I haven't worn that t-shirt He howled in protest

No... It doesn't fit yet and it's very thin (He hates thin t-shirts, but had fallen in love with the old style Captain America design on it). In fact it feels positively pre-loved. And any way, at the rate you are losing weight by the time you remember that it is there it will be too big.

By this stage one was busy rubbing little smells all over it...

Stop that! And don't spill things on it! And I don't want it coming back with pokey out bits in the front either.

FFS! The whole point of a t-shirt is that they are stretchy. Besides... 6' blokes t-shirt. How much stretching do you think a 5'4" female is going to do? Even these breasts are not going to make your shirt go out of shape... rolls eyes...

Scorpio's are such bad sharers 

A marked woman

A few days ago Florida Dom left a comment on a post and it has been rattling around in the brain ever since. See one does think about the comments you leave on here... and some of them are even real thoughts rather than general death wishes. Anyway the comment was about how one must be proud of the way He marked you and it got one thinking...

Why would one be proud of that? Should one even be proud? Is there some sort of deficiency in one small slave that one doesn't look at them and feel... well much of anything other than a mild inconvenience. Well they are to someone who potters around naked most of the time... and has His mother just down the hall way.

So why is there this general sense of meh about bruises? Could it be that on any given day one is covered in them? At the moment there is the remains of one on the shin, a new one just below the knee, one on the other calf, one on each forearm (big ones), one on the shoulder that hurts like a mother... think that one came from a weight bar during squats. In addition to that there is an assortment of little ones that look suspiciously like finger prints. The kind that emerge if legs aren't spread open fast enough... glares at a certain someone though no doubt He will deny any involvement. Yeah like one did those as some sort of self harm thing... not!

Now admittedly the broken blood vessels that create marks are a little different. They seem to be much harder to achieve... for some reason. But marks are marks. There is no sense of pride or attachment to them. It's more surprise that they happened...

So what is one missing here? How does that even work? Why pride of all things?

Meh too many questions and no answers...

Hate that L

Wallpaper

You know there is something confronting about minimising the pages on the computer and coming face to face... so to speak... with your own body parts. At the moment there are glimpses of one's arse... in fact it fills the screen... peeping out from behind the shortcuts. Might one just add that the shortcuts are not strategically placed... there is no arty fig leaf configuration at all L

Nothing quite prepares you for that first thing in a morning

Actually nothing quite prepares you for that at any time of the day L

Where are we now?

Well it has been about seven weeks since we embarked on this wellness kick. So far He has gone down a pant size and a shirt size... about one and a half to be precise. That shirt thing is a bit unfortunate because His work shirts are now starting to look blouson. In fact all He needs is a parrot on his shoulder to complete the pirate look.

Regrettably one shared this observation with Him this evening. His eyes lit up as he pounced and asked if that made one small slave his wench. Judging by the squawk of surprise that emitted as He did this one suspects that the roll of parrot was filled, rather than that of wench. There is no point in ordering more shirts, as they are changing the style at Christmas... at this rate there will be room for two in the damn things by then. Mutters hopefully the pirate impersonation was a one off... it wasn't funny at all.

Meanwhile one small slave is optimistically reviewing the t-shirt situation. That is to say there is a small stash of favourite t-shirts that were kept, not because one ever thought that one would get back in them, but more that one couldn't let them go. The only problem is that this diet with gym work means that the top hasn't lost any size at all, so now they are getting to be a good fit until you lift up your eyes and then... they sort of look confronting O.O

Though the Hooters t-shirt He brought one back from the States probably looks the way it was meant to J

On the other end the arse has lost some weight. To the extent that one has to wear a belt with skirts because He thinks it is hysterically funny to pull them down. When your only protection in life is a belt, you know things are just wrong...

And He isn't as funny as he thinks he is 

Surprise!

Coming home from work one turned on the oven, stripped off and started to haul on gym gear. Of course that was the more linear version of what happened. In reality there was a lot more back and forthing to get the lamb out of the fridge, dump work bags, find the gym top that one had put down somehow... nowhere near the rest of the kit... and things of that ilk. It was in this mooching around that one found a plastic bag.

Now it would have been fine if one had stopped at the finding, but you know what they say about curiosity and the cat. Well of course one just had to peek inside. Only to find a large quantity of wooden pegs nestled in the bag. Sighs really one should know better...

As one was cooking Him breakfast, what we euphemistically call his getting up for work at 10pm meal, he turns around and says, oh I bought you a present.

Yes found that... umm... at the risk of sounding not very grateful, one suspects that present is another word that doesn't mean what you think it means. People usually look forward to presents.

Well I'm looking forward to them He replied

And of course He is the only one that has to L

Communication issues

You know when He says I'll treat you like a princess...

This was not what one had in mind L

He broke it

We have a very compressed weekend this week and so with that in mind He was determined to get as much sex in as possible. To the extent that one was hustled to the bedroom rather than the gym that was being aimed for at the time. Now don't get one wrong as keen on the gym though one is, sex is still more attractive. Subsequently the struggles were kinda feeble... mind you 5'4" is only so effective against 6'... even if it is an aggressive 5'4".

That was how one found oneself being sodomised at 9 am. Something that the arse was more than cooperative to be might one add. It is strange how sometimes the arse is just so relaxed and unresisting... it just opened up and let Him in. And stayed that way after He came and then continued to pound his way along its length... his cum providing lube in his explorations towards another orgasm.

It was not in that obliging mood an hour later when He had another run at it. The nipples weren't so happy either. In fact they were both lodging complaints after our orgasms.

Actually the nipples were very hand shy for the rest of the day. A fact that He just seemed to regard as a cute and fun challenge as he actively hunted them at every opportunity L

The arse was far more proactive. It just shut the gates and barricaded the door. In fact one pointed out that He had broken it.

So does that mean that it is ready to be used at any moment? He asked

No it means you have broken it

Yes so it's ready He persisted

Umm... think you might be confusing broken in and broken

He laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. In fact one suspects that it doesn't bode well for the arse at all L

Arrows and strings

We were lying in bed discussing what we were having for our free meal tomorrow... well one of them at any rate. At the moment there is a yen for a pie. It is something one gets a yen for maybe once a year at most, but at this moment in time the thought of all that fat and flavour is very tempting. The only trouble is deciding which one.

As one was running though the possibilities that He interjected to say, well you can choose your own tomorrow when you come with me. The attraction of the pie decreased ten fold... at least. In fact there might have been some twisting and whining that ensued... hate going in the car on food runs... which is an illogical response in someone who likes to eat, but there you are... complicated J

He listened to the reasons why one couldn't accompany him and then said you can come with me dressed in your choice of clothes or mine.

The visions danced through the head... none of them were stylish or seemly.

You know a good master has more than one string to his bow... you really need something in your repertoire other than threats and coercion. See time on Fet is never wasted... the place is veritable treasure trove of wisdom J

OK He retorted, saccharine dripping from his tone, you can come with me dressed however you like.

One lay there next to him wondering out loud why it is that our talks never go quite the way that Fet would lead one to believe they should, all the while silently calculating the odds and outcomes... none of them were good. The threat might have been implicit rather than explicit, but it had still been there in the tone. In spite of that one did consider the statement on its own merit. And to be honest the statement wasn't as good without the threat back up. Sighs some of us are just more comfortable with the carrot and stick approach otherwise we are just going to snatch the carrot and make a run for it.

A slave's prayer

The net is full of these prayers... often written in lurid purple prose. This is not one of those. No this is a simple prayer for a company to produce a multivitamin that has been clinically tested and doesn't smell and taste like vomit. Because every morning one has to take a multivitamin that does. And every morning it has to be taken with food, otherwise that newly developed gag reflex does its job with ruthless efficiency. May one just say that while they might taste bad going down, they taste a damn sight worse coming back up.

It has got to the stage that the throat is starting to close up the minute the mouth opens to receive its morning offering. Then there is an ensuing tussle between the will and the reflexes and should the will win that round, it then has to deal with the stomach. It seems that the stomach is even less thrilled to be receiving the pill than the mouth was. Sighs there has to be a better way to supplement than this L

Master this!

Every once in a while some fledgling master drops one small slave a line. There is a sort of theme in common with these neophytes; they are all young, scrawny, semi literate, living in the home state and all of them keen to give a girl what she needs... them. In fact just the other day one got an offering from some young thing. It was a scrawled line of text speak that basically could be summed up as do you want to be my slave? Actually that wasn't summing it up... that was the entire message.

And that does bring us to an interesting question. In fact the teenager went on to ask the very same thing on a Fet group later that day. Why aren't slaves interested in me?

Now not being a member of that group it was on the tip of the fingers to reply to his offering via pm, which one is reluctant to do because sometimes engaging with these people is an exercise in masochism, but what the hell, one has a blog. So here we are for the record...

Why you don't get taken up on your offer by one small slave

Your age is not the issue... hell one is as partial to snacks as the next... for that matter He is about eight years younger than oneself. No, the real problem is that... well to put not too fine a point on it... you are too skinny. Personally one prefers a man with a bit of meat on his bones, or muscle... either one works. That extends to woman too. Oh one thinks that tiny elfin women are cute, but one does so prefer a bit more substance in the bed.

Your inability to write a sentence is a problem. It's not that one can't read text; more that one suspects it is indicative of a general communication issue. We have already established that you can't comprehend the written word... otherwise you wouldn't have made this sterling offer to someone whose profile says blissfully happy. Oh and owned... But one does understand that words mean whatever you want them to mean and so one is going to give you the benefit of the doubt.

But while we are on the topic of your missive... yeah women like to feel special. You have to woo them just a little. It doesn't have to be flash, but a mail out to virtually every woman in your state? And one surmises this based on the fact that they have to get to page 32 of all the Queenslanders to find one and that we are not in any shared groups. How else did they even find one's profile?

Next there are the little nitpicky things...

The first question is not do you live anywhere near me, but do you want to be mine?

Then there is the fact that your profile has some of your rules on it including, but not limited to, this little gem...

"You will crawl onto my lap to be punished"

Yeah... you're gonna have to catch one first J

Pretty 'n pink

Well it has come to pass. Arriving home one was greeted by these sitting on the bench.

Nothing more needs to be said really... though one would like to say that there is a special place in one's heart for the area manager, who went above and beyond the call in bringing these back from some far flung place in our state. Admittedly it is a small dark place... and rather hot, but it is all yours J

The next day

Turning around one realised that He had left marks with his particular brand of humour...

Unfortunately the camera just seems to hate purple so this pic doesn't show this in all its glory. It's sort of a livid cerise and purple and considering that one doesn't mark all that well... apart from bruises that seem to appear in the strangest of places... it is miraculous that there is anything at all. 

Nasty hard handed... umm... Master is kind, Master is merciful J

He is not funny!

He had vacated the nest so one small slave slid in to strip the bedding. Unfortunately one was caught in the middle of this nest desecration. The retaliation was swift and brutal...

Forced down across the bed the PJ's were pulled down one handed as the other hand was pressed firmly between shoulder blades. Stinging blows were rained upon an unprotected and upturned arse in spite of the pitiful cries for mercy.

There was none.

In fact He turned around afterwards and said well you keep saying that your favourite colour is red and that you don't like pink. So I have to hit you harder... just to make sure your arse goes the right colour.

Again one says bastard!

Christmas is coming

In fact Christmas is just a few weeks away... if the steady stream of chocolate arriving at work is anything to go by... and some of you are probably wondering what to get your loved ones. Well here is the gift for you. A snip at only 2,490... errr... pounds that is. Nothing says I love you and you're worth it quite like an obscene amount of money being spent on something... well one wouldn't quite say useless, but shall we say somewhat unnecessary?

Well nothing says conspicuous wealth quite as well as that at any rate J