Leaving on a jet plane

As gathered from the last two posts one is about to wing one's way to freedom... well to a different kind of servitude at any rate. It is time to stop being the absent daughter and get with the family programme... be responsible and all that...

It all sounds so terribly dull and dutiful L

So this little blog will be unattended for the next week due to a complete lack of available communication. Hell we aren't even sure how we are going to stay in touch. It is going to be very strange to have no computer or phone... although some of you can attest to one's inability to remember to answer anything via the phone... including its rings. Sighs bad, bad, little black sheep

There is however, some light on the horizon...

He offered to do a daily update on how his miniature painting is going... complete with pictures

Peers around and whispers furtively... run, run as fast as your fingers will take you

Blast!

The day dawned with hands pulling the body awake... and might one add it was an ungodly hour so one did the only thing possible... snoozed as soon as He had finished violating one's flesh and had gone to the gym. The rest of the day was spent in limbo waiting for that phone call...

And waiting...

And waiting...

And waiting...

Finally, just as one had given up and gotten ready to go to a work dinner, it rang... mid mascara. It is as bad as feared. The ulcer is cancerous, it is in the lymph nodes, the stomach, the soft tissue organs... it is inoperable.

Of course by the time one had got back from dinner there had been two phone calls from Him and his mother was in a right state. She had just met the immovable force that is another Scorpio who wants something... in this case her big sister... home... now!

In the time one was out at dinner the plane was booked, the tickets were in the inbox and everyone was in an uproar. 'Cos of course the baby sister hadn't consulted anyone as to what was a convenient time to whisk one away... she had just got one on the first available flight.

It seems that one will be living on an assortment of couches as one wends the way from here to the next stop and then to the final destination. Where one will be wrapped up in the loving bosom of the ex second step mother. Honestly she doesn't care which of "her girls" is home so long as she doesn't have to face the surgeon's meeting on Thursday alone to make what will no doubt be some tough decisions. She sort of regards us as interchangeable in some ways. Sighs she was the only one of the wives who was maternal in any way shape or form... father had sort of got the hang of selecting a fit parent by the third one.

Meanwhile the baby sister has turned her attention to father's little domicile. She has organised a skip and a family working bee for Sunday to strip the house which is virtually unfit for human habitation as far as she is concerned.

It seems father has been self medicating judging by the pile of empty bottles and has let things slide...

Complicated no doubt by the fact that the hospital has been treating him for angina...

And that is why one will be residing on an assortment of couches and beds... no sister of hers is staying at his place.

In case you haven't realised by now she is the family organiser, the one that networks and keeps everyone in touch, who FB's and actually remembers special dates... well there has to be one in a family as extended as ours. She is it... our little sheep dog, who tirelessly rounds us up and sets the cops onto her older, errant sister after she disappeared in the last flood... a thing which one did thank her for... most politely.

Of course as the family's black sheep it is one's sworn duty to skip out of her clutches whenever possible...

Family dynamics are... complicated L

Damn and botheration

The baby sister rang today... yes there is one member of the family that one likes other than her mother (one's second stepmother)... with bad news. It seems our father is dying. They operated on a bleeding ulcer, the worst the surgeon has ever seen and was more than a little surprised that father actually survived, to find cancer while they were in there. We are waiting for the biopsy to come back, but it is unlikely to be good news.

Now personally one received the news with more annoyance than sadness. The baby sister is quite devastated enough for the both of us... they are very close unlike us. He was a great dad to her and actually there for the process, whereas one didn't see him from seven to sixteen... even though he only lived about 20 minutes away and Auntie was pro father and completely anti mother. Not that one entirely blames him... mother was... scary and besides, he was on his second family. It's why they got divorced... she found out.

Ah family... special, special people J

Anyway there is plenty to be aggravated about when you live in a different country from your family... a choice one made quite happily for a lot of reasons... the fact that one is not fond of most of them being the main one... and one of them is dying.

There is a general annoyance at the fact that yet another branch of that family has fallen off due to cancer... this does not bode well for one's future...

And there is the added annoyance that one will probably have to go back home. Right before Christmas which will not make work thrilled and at a time when travel is starting to get expensive... sighs

And it will be fucking freezing... they might call it summer, but they lie and/ or are delusional

And one doesn't have so much as a jumper anymore and one pair of jeans isn't going to cut a week

Crap this means one will have to go out and buy clothes as well as plane tickets

And one has no idea where one will stay or how one will get around

There aren't any direct flights so one will have to come in via Wellington... which is one of the worst airports in the world to land in... and one has become something of a white knuckle flyer over the years

And He won't be able to come

That one is a real problem... we don't do too well with the separation thing at all. In fact we tried it once and vowed it was a miserable time for both of us and wouldn't be done again. And that time we had ways of staying in contact... this time there won't be any way to do that

This is not a good day at all...

Mind you it's probably not too great for father either L

Endearing moments

He came home to find a very queasy slave kneeling naked near the back door ready to take off his shoes. It was not a good morning, a week of sinus, migraines and too many meds had culminated in that state.  Coming in He stripped off, dumped the clothes and turned to give one a hug. As one snuggled up to Him, he leant down and murmured gently in one's ear...

You had better not throw up on me

To which one replied tartly, well you had better not squeeze anything

See people there is all that love and trust stuff they go on about... well what it looks like in reality at any rate J

More Christmas cheer

OFFS if your child is sobbing his heart out because he doesn't want to sit on Santa's knee, why are you kneeling there trying to coerce him into it. It's just saved you a small fortune in family photos. Rejoice! Take some of that money, buy him a damned ice-cream and move on. There's always next year.

And hopefully it won't be in our shop doorway that he does his repeat performance.

Fuck Santa, his sleigh and his bloody elves... along with the singer who keeps missing that key... in every fucking chorus of that song L

In the beginning...

How we met

The strange thing about beginnings is that they rarely are a simple point in time. They are a bunch of random happenstances that converge on a single point. In some ways we were like that.

At the time of our meeting one was living in a long term lesbian relationship. We were the golden couple, the ones that had it all. The house, the mortgage, the fur kids, her kids... in some strange way one had ended up with everything one never wanted... one just didn't know it yet.

He came into our lives via one of her kids and at the time of our meeting one looked at him and thought what on earth is she doing with him. It wasn't the usual feeling of he isn't good enough... it was more of a flick of recognition... one deviant to another if you will. It's like when gaydar goes off... you can always spot your own kind.

Now as it turned out he wasn't with her exactly... he was with the online persona she had generated based on one's characteristics as she perceived them. Needless to say that relationship didn't last very long... great little actress though she was, she wasn't that good. They broke up and we kept him... much to her chagrin.

And we were very good friends, a merry little threesome who hung out and had a good time.

Meanwhile a cat that one was very much attached to died and it became something of a catalyst in one's life. Actually it triggered a terrible bout of reactive depression. One would wake up in the morning almost OK and by mid afternoon one would be so blue that life was almost pointless. It was a very bad time that made one re-evaluate everything... particularly the life one had acquired.

By this stage the soon to be ex and oneself had reached an impasse. We had problems... communication issues ironically. They had always been there, but until the degree, with its heavy emphasis on counselling communication, one had never really noticed before. We were always too busy doing the lesbian party lifestyle.

After the cat though...

We did try to fix them, but it is very hard when one partner doesn't have the skills or the desire to change and ultimately chooses not to, opting instead to make promises and not act upon them. We couldn't negotiate a compromise and we spiralled further and further apart. Living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed, not having sex with each other, it was such a fucking cliché in some ways.

Meanwhile he was on about his third attempt at a relationship and we were good friends who flirted outrageously with each other, but we spoke the same language having been to the same university and loved the same sorts of movies and books and... and... and...

We flirted and went out to movies...

There was an unwholesome attraction under all of this. We just didn't do anything about it... too damned complicated and add to that he was a man cub of about 26. Way too young to be taken seriously...

Until that damn movie that changed everything. The one that lost a girl her lesbian card

So that gentle readers is how we met. It doesn't present the full facts nor does it give both sides of the story, but it is the bare bones. Otherwise this would end up the size of a Tolstoy novel. Consider this the first instalment... of a serialised version of our past... actually "Anna Karenina" was published in a serialised form originally... let that be a warning to you J

Here endeth the first part. Stay tuned for how we ended up in this type of relationship and he became He...

Unsolicited male

One of the fabulous features of Fet is the inbox. Now many people whine incessantly about the things they receive in them, but personally one finds them a never ending source of entertainment. The contents fall roughly into three categories. Though there is a sub category in that the first two are generally not happy.

There are those who have enquiries about the contents of the blog... quite often things that they are personally less than enthusiastic about. Unfortunately for them they have been directed to make enquiries about the item at the behest of the person in charge. You know there is a reason that many here do not share this blog with their owners... smiles sweetly J

Then there are people making enquiries about the group. That is to say enquiring about why we were mean to them. They are a minority group. Usually they prefer to complain to MT. Don't know why though, but then again she can make fuck off sound terribly cerebral J

This brings us to the last group; the unsolicited male. They are by far the most entertaining. Why just the other day there was a "you are such a cutie" message. That was the entire message in case you are wondering.

It was so sweet. And he actually used whole words... mind you he was a little older. Though judging by the fact he was a member almost exclusively of BBW groups one couldn't help but feel that his admiration was a little misplaced... or at least misled. There are a couple of pics up that do make one look a little... Rubenesque. Eyes the photographer balefully...

The other oddity is the young master or domling as one likes to think of them affectionately. For some reason one does seem to attract the 19-23 year old. The one's who almost exclusively use textspeak... and want to give one a new home.  It's the breasts isn't it? They trigger all their mummy issues. That or it's that damned arse again... 

It's that time again

The Liebster Awards are doing the rounds again... it is that time it would seem. How do people seem to know when it is time for them? Seriously is there some bloggers calendar that one small slave is completely unaware of out there? One marked up with special dates that we bloggers need to remember... 'cos if so one would love a link.

Firstly one would like to thank ancilla_ksst for the nomination. It is appreciated... you can all just feel a big, fat but coming can't you... 'cos there is one. See this award means that you are supposed to share 11 random things about yourself, answer the 11 questions that your nominator has asked and recommend 11 other blogs. Now, one has no trouble with the first part... any reader here can attest to one's capacity to twitter along like a canary in a cage. The second part isn't the issue either. No the real issue is the nomination part.

See the blog roll to the right are most of the people one follows and as you can see many of them are inert due to life changes. Even some of the big, older ones are suffering from this malaise. The list of blogs one follows is suffering from the same problem... with an added complication in that now when someone closes their blog to the public, or shuts it down you are stuck on their followers list with no way of getting off it.

Since the last Blogger upgrade you can't just get off a list from your end... you have to go to theirs. It means there is no way to update the list to reflect who you are following any more. People are following links to things that don't exist.  And yes it is one of those little housekeeping issues that is driving one quietly insane... if you hadn't guessed that by now J

Anyway getting back to the Leibster Award and the poor little blog roll...

One of the great things about the Leibster Award is that it generates some traffic for those little corners of the blogosphere that might otherwise be overlooked and with that in mind one is going to do this a little differently than was intended.

What one would like you the reader to do is nominate one of your favourite BDSM blogs, in the comments section, so that one small slave and the other readers can go and have a look and see what is out there in the hopes of finding some new blogs to follow.

Also if you have any questions that you've always wanted to ask... no matter how silly... this is your chance to ask them J

Geek out

It was at some ungodly hour of the morning when hands roughly pulling at flesh awoke one. There might have been several small squeaks of protest, but they were soon muffled by the pillow as one landed face down and arse up. A position that allowed Him to stuff small orifices with fingers and cock as it amused him. When He had finished one lay there before that annoying oozing sensation forced one to get up briefly before going back to bed and sleep.

Several hours later one woke up once more, to stumble out in the search of coffee and breakfast before tackling the joy of laundry. That joy was short lived as He needed to nip out to the comic shop. It seemed that some little faction of His army was incomplete. You know just as an observation miniatures (affectionately known as minis) may be small, but they sure seem to take up a lot of space... most every flat surface at this stage.

It is probably worth mentioning also that nipping out here has a very different meaning to most anyone anywhere else in the world. The comic shop is clear across town... a drive of over an hour and some 40 odd km each way. Needless to say when we arrived it turned out to be a long visit... it will be oooh at least a fortnight before He goes back... rolls eyes quietly. The time did allow one to wander round listlessly looking at comics and merchandising.

The shop is run by some level nine geeks... they all have different areas of speciality. Unfortunately not one of them majors in cleaning and everything is covered in dust. To the point that rather like an archaeological dig, you can estimate the age of the stock by the depth of the dust on it. It makes shopping singularly unpleasant for a woman... none of the males in the place seem to notice the issues at all as they paw through boxes of comics and cards and minis in the quest to find that one needful thing.

In fact one suspects that it is one of the subtle ways of keeping women out of what is generally a predominately males space. Gods know that it has taken several years for them to get used to talking to one small slave without twitching, shuffling or blinking nervously. The only one that seems to have well developed social skills is the senior staff member and one suspects that is because he... peers around and whispers... self medicates. On the upside of all of this, in amongst the rack of new t-shirts, one did find this little gem.

It seemed a kindness to take it home... she was set for a very lonely existence otherwise J

Christmas baubles

A few weeks back the first of the Christmas decorations appeared in the shops. It caused an inward groan that was probably echoed all over Australia. Honestly they start it way before people are emotionally ready for the onslaught. The city was no different, but add to that store Santa's waving at you cheerily... it just feels sad and desperate. And make no mistake the retailers are desperate.

Clothing is one of those things that are getting harder and harder to unload in the computer age. The sales have started already and there were racks of unattractive spring clothes trying to vie for your dollar. No mean feat when the weather outside has cranked up to the predicted 35C (95F). Some of the worst offenders are the big department stores and one does have to wonder who is running some of the departments at times.

In one well known chain they are still trying to sell what are obsolete games, to the tune of almost three years, for the original price. And these are the people who have just moved to the online world in the hope of staying viable. They don't stand a chance unless the government steps in and starts charging import duties on all goods coming into the country. It will be the only thing that saves their arses in the end.

Even the rather fabulous Christmas angel in the end of the mall had an almost ghostly, skeletal aspect to it that one couldn't help but think was symbolic. And not necessarily of peace and good will to all man. 

Forward planning

Tomorrow we have to go to the city... again... so one thought let's check the weather forecast. See at the moment the wardrobe is kinda sparse. That is to say there is one pair of black jeans, a couple of t-shirts, a skirt that will stay up with the aid of a belt providing a certain someone doesn't help it "fall down" and a couple of very pretty dresses. Though as His parting shot was wear something comfortable for walking those are probably off the list.

As it was pissing down... actually that doesn't do the torrential downpour with blinding flashes of lightning and rumbling, crashing thunder justice... as one ran back from the gym there was a vague hope that the weather would cool down somewhat. If that weather forecast with its predicted high of 35C (95F) and brilliant sun is to be believed though, the jeans will be off the list too

That just leaves the dangerous skirt... and Him

Sighs life is just a perilous place for one small slave at times and this bloody weight loss thing isn't helping at all L

Dream a little dream

You know He said conversationally, one of the things I really want to do when the weight is gone is go to a water park. I haven't been since I was a child

So why do you have to lose weight? You're going to be wearing a t-shirt anyway

Yes, but it will be a wet t-shirt He replied, as though that explained everything

Seeing the blank look He sighed and said they cling... in that patient tone people usually reserve for those they perceive to be a bit slow

See we have different body issues... nudity and being exposed like that doesn't worry one at all... photos on the other hand... L Whereas His issue... clinging things make him all kinds of neurotic.

Personally one looks at this and thinks it's like going to the beach... no matter how bad you may feel in your cossie, someone else is always going to look worse. Besides it's a water park... people are too busy trying to drown each other or prevent it happening to someone to care what people look like. Still it's good to have dreams and ambitions when you are on the weight loss wagon.

Then the thought was...

Wait one small slave will be made to go as well

And it's a park... with water... nasty, wet, splashy stuff... and slides

And it's full of screaming children

And screaming parents

And it's bright and sunny

And hot... revoltingly hot

And the air will be redolent with the smell of tanning products and other peoples' BBQ's

And one will have to go out and buy a swimming costume

And there are body parts that literally glow in the dark they are so white... they're going to fry like the sausages on the BBQ... right after they have blinded someone

Oh bad dream! Bad dream!

Is it wrong to squash the dreams of others? After all one must protect the property... Fet said so J

The handkerchief code: Why it failed

It marginalised people.

Many moons ago, largely in the Gay scene, a handkerchief code was created. It was beautifully simple; each colour represented what you were into and the side it was worn on represented whether you were a giver or a receiver. Now on the face of it the idea was a good one. When you were out and looking for something specific, it saved a lot of pissing around.

Of course as our kinks came out of the closet the code got bigger and bigger. These days it is so big it is unwieldy. Not to mention some of the hankies are just well... bordering on the fussy. Lace frills no less in some cases. Can anyone guess what those ones are for?

The real trouble was for those kinks that come under the heading YKINMKAYKINOK. Brown hanky... let’s just give that a wide berth... There is Mr. Brown in the centre of the room with everyone carefully avoiding him. See we like to pretend the kink community is one big happy family. We are all about inclusiveness... oh yes we are.

Failing that we can just studiously ignore the things we don’t like... it works for the ostrich. That way we won’t have to come up with a way to deal with the things that repel us, alienate us, make us feel anything remotely uncomfortable or challenge us to look at our prejudices and preconceived notions. So much easier for everyone... except those whom we are marginalising as we make ourselves into socially acceptable fun loving kinksters.

SSC FOREVER!!! 

Mutters really need a label for sarcasm...

Notes from bridges

Much though one enjoys Fet there is a downside. That downside is often the kinksters and their persistent refusal to realise that how they do relationships is not how we do them. See what they don't seem to get is that we realise how profoundly these relationships change us.  It is why one has always called it down the rabbit hole. You may come back, but you won't be the same. Probably ever again... and that is OK... all relationships do that on some level.

Knowing this means that it is kind of tedious having people debate your life and existence as though it is grist for the mill.  Which for them it is, but that combined with their need to tell us that we are playing and that this is all imaginary does get dull. All of life is a construct... theirs is too. It doesn't make it less real.

This stuff causes profound changes in how we interact with others. Personally one searches for similarities rather than difference. It is also because we just get drowned by the myriad of voices that can be found on public boards that one tends to avoid these types... life is simply too short. Unfortunately they still come across the feed via those one does like to stalk. That friends list is something of a double edged sword at times.

In many ways tuning out the naysayers is an essential skill because otherwise one just becomes burnt out and retiring from public boards rather than enjoying them. It's better than becoming swamped by the continual voices saying our way is wrong, dangerous and not real. It is not that one can't separate the right for us from the wrong just that their noise is deafening

Often people accuse one of being picky and elitist when it is really a form of self protection 

Help... in its many forms

Otherwise known as why there are no pics this week...

You're doing it wrong... again... one cheerfully announced to Him over the kitchen bench from the couch below. Won't bore you with the specifics, let's be honest they aren't important, but one did think it was important to keep you informed. See time of Fet in never wasted...

Well perhaps I should do something right to make up for it He replied, moving towards the bedroom

Scampering to lock the door one hastened to follow... hey even one small slave can detect an offer in the making

It was at that moment that there was a crash at the outside gate, followed by a cheerful pounding on the door... the one clearly marked "do not knock" with an arrow pointing helpfully to the bell that rings at the other end of the house. See this house is so long you can't hear anyone pounding on that door. Well we can, but we are not the usual targets of those knocks. There was a quick scurrying to find something to wrap around the nakedness as one hastened to answer. There beaming on the door step were the tradies that His mother had ordered and effectively stood up. Leaving one small slave to deal with them L

Now in fairness they were a bit early, but she was more than a bit late. In fact she waltzed in just as they were finishing her job list. By that stage we had given up the idea of sex, toys and pics and were consoling ourselves with a prawn lunch... a very poor substitute might one add. When all of the hullabaloo finally died down we slid back off to bed... with just enough time for a quickie before He went to sleep.

That is to say He quickly managed to get most of his hand in one's arse before using its relaxed state to his advantage. He held the cheeks apart to get just the right angle and to keep a small gape before withdrawing his cock all the way out of and slamming it back in. Stretch, withdraw, slam, stretch, withdraw, slam... faster and faster until He came deep in the arse.

It was something He later assured one felt very good. Apparently all the muscles rubbing against the head of the penis where all the nerves are is way more interesting than just being gripped around the base tightly. Who knew?

No, what one small slave did know, as the screaming orgasm ended... errr... that was one small slave's screaming orgasm... was that it was going to hurt like fuck. Not so much damaged as pumped full of air. And as it turned out, that much pummelling made for an interesting walk back from the hairdressers later that afternoon too...

Good thing sphincter muscles are very elastic... it could have been most unfortunate J

Shopping rituals

Usually when we shop one small slave trails along about a pace behind... carrying all the baggage. That is not how things are done here. In this country the women stream ahead of the men who are loaded up like mules... and looking almost as thrilled as one to be there performing the service might one add.  Here it is normal to hand large packages to the man... to the point that one has had to stage an intervention to prevent such a hand over. 

He of course smiles sweetly and says if she can't carry it, she can't have it. A response that usually garners a twitter of laughter, right before they realise He isn't joking. It's got Him a look more than once in the past. A look might one add, that He is completely immune to.

The thing is though... peers around furtively and whispers... it's safer trailing along behind. See when one is in front for any reason His hands reach out and do annoying things. One small slave is goosed, skirts end up in the crack of one's arse, hems are lifted up... the list is long and varied. But none of them are as annoying as the double hand clap on the shoulders. From His height they have time to build up momentum before they land L

No it is far safer scampering along in His wake. Perhaps one needs a t-shirt to that effect...

It's safer in the back

Behind is where you want to be

Hmm... maybe not J

It's the simple things

Today we scampered out to buy a pirate ship... for His war game. Of course it took three shopping centres to find anyone who had stock. He graciously left one for an hour at the second destination, while one small slave looked for the perfect shoe to go with the 50's inspired dresses that have ended up in the wardrobe. May one just add that finding the right shoe is harder than you think. It's rather like finding the perfect mate. The more things that are on the criteria list, the smaller the choice pool becomes.

Eight shoe shops later one did find them. Of course one also found several that didn't fit the criteria that one would have loved including these. Sighs really one is going to have to start shopping online for shoes. The selection in the stores this season is miserable... not to mention the colours are vile. Honestly some people do not look good in coral or pink and they hurt the eyes L

The other problem was shopping alone... it's a very rare thing. Normally He is there to give an opinion or at least approve. It was rather like shopping blind. Whenever one looked at a shoe that little voice was going, yes, but will He like them. Which wouldn't be such a problem if it weren't for the fact that one isn't allowed to buy Him clothes 'cos he hates one small slave's choices. The whole process ended up with more dithering than decisions.

Mind you watching Him shop for himself is just painful. Apart from His personal criteria that one has only a hazy understanding of... which may account for why one is banned from purchasing him clothes... some of his methods are more trial and error than necessary. Take belt buying or rather belt looking. He is at the stage where he needs new ones... there is no more room on his to get another hole punched. Now bear in mind no one is going to see these belts... in this climate any sane person wears their t-shirts untucked...

First off they have to be the right width... fair enough... belt loops... get that

Then they have to be the right shade of brown... OK

Next they have to look good and have a good buckle... losing any sense of perspective now

Then they have to be supple... small perk of interest

Can they be doubled over... small twitch of concern now

Will they be capable of delivering a wallop if necessary... yeah moving away right about now

Sighs shopping is a very fraught process for one small slave L

Lest we forget

Language barriers

It was something of a surprise when He stumbled out of the cave, formerly known as the bedroom, shortly after one arrived home. It was an even bigger surprise when He voluntarily came along to the gym after dinner. What happened afterwards wasn't such a surprise though...

We were in the shower after all

There had just been a conversation that had ended with Him calmly pointing out that one was free... free to be used as He saw fit, free to be used whenever He wanted... Let's just say that particular conversation had not gone one small slave's way shall we?

In fact it might have been the failure of that conversation that led to an inquiry as to whether one small slave's opinion on the matter meant anything.  At the time one was pressed up against some tiles in the shower... which for a change felt fabulously cool against the skin... still burning after the workout.

Of course it means something, He replied

It was the tone that made one dig a little deeper... what does it mean...precisely?

Nothing at all... nothing is still something though, He growled reassuringly in one's ear.

It was shortly after that comment that one found oneself jammed in the corner of the shower being used for His sexual relief. As one was pinned in place, his cock sliding in and out of one's arse, He conversationally inquired if one has missed him. It was on the tip of the tongue to ask if it mattered, but it seemed a silly time to broach the subject. Hey that survival instinct isn't completely dead

You know one is starting to suspect that words really do mean whatever you want them to mean... if you are the one in charge L

LOL7

Each year on this day it is Love our Lurkers Day. It was started over at My Bottom Smarts six years ago. The idea is that this is the day when we bloggers thank our lurkers and try to get them to decloak and say hi, how are you? Now generally one doesn't do this day as this blog, with its strangely anal focus, is not quite in their core group. It isn't a spanking blog, though that does happen and it isn't DD, though that happens too and it is hardly D/s. Mutters He is far too mean for that label. Nevertheless one does think the idea of thanking the lurkers is a good one and it also happens to coincide with the start of this blog two years ago so...

Some blogs offer all sorts of incentives... smacks for every comment and things of that nature... to get their lurkers to decloak. That is not going to happen here... none of you can be trusted to use that kind of power responsibly. In fact one isn't sure that lurkers even want to decloak at heart. Oh one understands that some of you are shy or feel that you have nothing to contribute, but honestly many of you like your anonymity. Half the fun of the net is that it is by and large anonymous... well gives the illusion of it at any rate.

No what one wants to do here is thank all of those of you who lurk... the silent majority. Those of you who come to be amused, entertained (often at one small slave's expense) and occasionally somewhat scandalised by the fact that one hasn't won that good slave award... yet. And some of you have been doing it for quite some time and often from far flung places in the world. In fact it is always something of a shock that you ever found one in the first place.

So thank you. All of you; the silent and the vocal alike because it is appreciated J

Are we there yet?

All these extra days at work are playing havoc with the body's internal clock. This evening one came home at 7 pm and turned on the oven, put the pork in to marinade for tomorrow night, gathered the ingredients for a dinner for one, shoved His duck in the oven, put on some eggs to boil, cooked dinner and ate it. Then at 8 pm one shuffled off to the gym before returning home an hour later to make His lunch, shower and do the dishes. In fact it was during the making of His breakfast at 9.30 pm, as one was mentally congratulating oneself on how smoothly the timing had gone, that one suddenly realised something...

It was only Thursday and He was supposed to have chicken. The duck wasn't meant to be cooked until tomorrow. In fact the pork wasn't meant to be marinading either...

Sighs domestic goddess one ain't... but that good slave award... that's in the sights... surely 

Fucking insane

A customer comes in with hair looking like the end result of an unfortunate experiment...

She wants something to correct the ash (that she put over her gold blonde hair when she tried to tone it down) that had gone streaky and grey looking. So one spent a few minutes explaining why it looked grey against the gold... carefully not pointing out that if she had applied it evenly, the outcome would have been a little different.

Then she decides she wants a semi which one explained we no longer kept... well not in a box format... she will have to mix her own or go to a hairdressing supplier to get one. Of course that is too much work. She wants something simple and convenient and here.

Then she wants to know if her hair dresser's advice would work... it seems she rang her on her holiday to ask. Ummm... not a hair dresser so no way is one going to touch that... though one did suggest that her hairdresser is far better qualified to give advice than one was ever going to be.

Then she wants to know why she can't just use a permanent... oh let's see your hair has been bleached, coloured and then coloured again.

Then she wants a guarantee that whatever she uses is going to work... yeah that isn't going to happen either. In fact one spent about five minutes explaining to her the assorted variables that would make any guarantee impossible.

Then she wondered out loud why her hair dresser had to go on holidays...

Yeah one was wondering that very same thing... though one was starting to get a very good idea why L

Squash sucks

He is of the opinion that squash is a good workout. Normally He and his little school chum can be found banging a ball around on a Saturday morning, however this week his friend was away. So one small slave got to be stand in... or moving target... at times it was a little hard to tell them apart.

Now as the day nears a close one has these observations to share...

The game of squash actually requires more talent than one will ever possess

It needs a level of hand eye coordination that one simply does not have

You need to be fit... hell you need to be more than fit... to play it

After an hour of futilely chasing that stupid rubber ball around a room... usually to little avail... there is not one single body part that doesn't hurt. Actually the serving arm is kinda numb from the elbow down.

Of course His helpful suggestion was to masturbate and pretend it was someone else doing it. As one pointed out the answer to all problems is not sex. To which He replied it should be L

Mind you as it turns out one may just try it out...

It's 9 pm and He has gone to bed pleading exhaustion... actually one found him on the couch, curled up in a foetal position sound asleep

If sports really are about the last man standing then...

Slave 1 Master 0

Helmet head

In amongst an order was this glass plug and just in case you are wondering how safe glass is for your arse? While getting it out of the box it slipped free, hitting the bench on the way down. The plug is fine, but the bench has a chip out of it. So unless you are taking a sledge hammer to the damn thing while inserted one would have to say that glass is pretty safe.

 

The implement:

• Made from glass
• This is the extra large and measures 12 cm (5") long
• It is about 14.5 cm (5 3/4") around
• The base is 4.5 cm (just under 2") wide
• Comes in clear or black

The pros:

• Smooth shape for easy insertion
• Wide base and narrow neck so it stays in place
• Could be used for longer term wear
• Easy to clean as they can be put in a dishwasher
• Not so big that it is uncomfortable when in place 

The cons:

• That helmet head shape has quite a defined ridge and unlike a penis it doesn't flex so removal is a bit more painful than insertion

All of that aside if you are looking for a plug that is somewhere between a bit too small and OMFG is that going to fit then this might be for you. It was very comfortable when in... though He seemed to experience some difficulty squeezing his way into the other available hole when taking advantage of one small slave... but the base is a bit wider than one prefers for very long term wear or walking around. It is a handy little plug though and would make a nice addition to a toy box J

Traditions

Is the bad taste Christmas present still only $10 He asked as we were leaving the supermarket

Yes it is...

See the bad taste Charismas present started many moons ago and frankly most participants admit it is the only one that they actually enjoy shopping for. It has to be tasteless and practical and it has to cost less than $10. The person who comes up with the best one is acknowledged as the winner. And it is a huge matter of pride to get the title.

His mother is still the grand champion after getting him a book mark one year that was a series of gold coloured plates, linked together, each inscribed with a part of The Lord's Prayer. Its gold colour was not what made it tasteless... though it was indeed just that. No it was giving it to an atheist that cinched the deal. Add to that the fact that the plates were curved to look like pages from a book, which rendered it completely useless as a book mark because it wrinkled the book and cracked the spine...

It was a winner on so many levels.

Damn He exclaimed

Why?

Well look at that... read the line at the bottom... and the instructions are pretty accurate too

The dragon is not amused L

A tiny flaw in the plan

Little monkey suggested that to really maximise the effects of predation avoidance one should stop waving the red flags and play dead. Which of course did beg the question does that actually work in the animal kingdom. Theoretically it must because otherwise it wouldn't have evolved as a survival technique... they would all simply die out. So off one set out to find how successful it is...

It was during a cursory research of the net that one found the sheer number of creatures that adopt this strategy is staggering. In fact it seems that is where the phrase playing possum originated. It was however, while watching this short video that one made an interesting discovery... well two actually.

The first is that the Australian possum is way cuter than its foreign cousins (check out the pygmy possums in amongst the native flowers)

The second one was discovering why playing possum won't work for one small slave

It seems to be successful at this strategy you need to be able to secret an unpleasant odour to mimic the smell of death...

In fact the possum does it with the aid of secretions from its anal glands.

Mind you He doesn't like the smell of perfume very much... perhaps something noxiously sweet and floral would work...

Of course one small slave is allergic to most of them as well... they give one sinus "issues"

That would lead on to another sick day...

Or worse being hauled into the shower to be thoroughly cleaned...

No on second thoughts, perhaps one might just endure the sex and assorted depravities without the headache... it is the lesser of evils

A quality sick day

In Australia there is a long standing tradition of the sickie.  They are not meant to be squandered lightly on something mundane like illness... though that is what they are designed for. No the twoo purpose of a sickie is to stay at home and have sex. That or nurse a hangover acquired during the pursuit of sex. Of course one small slave failed those lofty ideals and spent the last two days home with a very bad migraine. Not that it stopped Him having sex... after all one was conveniently there.

That was how one found oneself being roused out of a nap by being rudely levered up onto all fours, while He used one as a convenient place to deposit a load of cum. And later in the shower where one was squashed up against the tiles while being sodomised roughly before He went to work.

A position that was repeated in bed this morning when He came home... right before the anniversary butt plug was inserted and He went to sleep.

Later in the evening upon returning from gym... the migraine had finally abated and one needed the endorphins to get rid of the sluggish feeling... one found Him awake...

How's your arse He enquired conversationally

Its fine... was the cautious and somewhat terse reply from this end

Oh good He cried, leaping from behind the computer desk to do a rather good impersonation of the girls who strut around the ring holding up the cards to announce the next round...

Ding, ding, round two He announced

The worst of this is the knowing looks one will receive upon going to work tomorrow...

None of them realise that the sex is not quite voluntary...

And that it is far safer for one small slave to be sick at work, than it will ever be at home having a sickie.

Red flags

Over on lil's blog, where she is discussing a hysterically funny an unfortunate sexual encounter, she suggested that one might like to loan her a red flag as they didn't seem to be of much use to one small slave. The thing is one does get to wave them freely... they just don't seem to make much of a difference to the outcome...

And it got one to thinking...

Perhaps there is a reason for this.

Maybe He can't read the frantic signals

Maybe He is colour blind...

That would explain everything...

See one small slave waves a red flag and He sees grey... for go L