Punishment detail

The work colleague bought one small slave a gift back from her cruise. It feels like the beginnings of a chest infection. She came back to work touched stuff, took a turn for the worse and went home for the rest of the week. Leaving one to clean up in her wake and be stuck in cosmetics for the rest of the week dealing with wanty needy women.

Since most of the high end department stores have taken to running on skeleton crews in an effort to stay afloat in the shift to online shopping, many of their customers have taken to visiting us to get their fix of attention. They will spend inordinate amounts of time humming and haring over simple choices like which pink blush to buy. The whole thing is like herding cats...

This is why one doesn't like being hugged... no good ever comes of it :(

Creative ways to torture your slave

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

Jane Debster Empire

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

Hoegl Hammit

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

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

If you are geeky in persuasion you might find this interesting

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

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

Cucumber 2.0

Pulling cucumber from ass brought to you by PornHub

For those of you who missed this due to technical difficulties

Real food porn

A link to another host for the video can be found here

The clean up

Shaving is one of those little jobs that are done on a daily basis and rather than risk losing something near and dear... those little snick, snick sound effects of the other day were a little too close to the heart... one uses a Seiko Cleancut. He bought it for one many years ago and it hasn't missed a beat since. Apparently the new ones are rechargeable, but this one isn't and goes for weeks on its batteries. Anyway it is one of the few domestic chores He likes to settle in to watch.

Actually that's not quite true... He loves to watch one do domestic things... preferably naked or in that French maids outfit... but one could never work out why this little job seemed to attract him quite so much. As soon as He hears the whir of the shaver he appears like an apparition to settle in to watch. This time He came with his camera...

Relief

Wrapped in plastic

You may have read the other day when one said He had a priceless gift... Yeah taking that back... Shooting video of someone shuffling off to the shower wrapped in plastic does not make a woman feel sexy. Shooting it for the sole purpose of amusing her readers... all one can say is you are not as funny as you like to think L

On the bright side today commemorates the last day one will shuffle off to the shower in a plastic bag. Today one was getting ready to go to the doctor to have the impediments to showering removed. May one just take a moment to say how much one is looking forward to being able to wash that foot properly and more importantly, showering more than once a day. It is spring here and already cranking up to 26 (78.8) degrees during the day... this would have been hideous during summer.

So off one hobbled to the doctor where she viciously ripped off the plaster... the woman giggled as she did so... pronounced it healed, gave the biopsy results (which were negative), and sent one off into the pale morning light. This exalted state that will no doubt result in another bill for $145. She also dropped one right in it with Him 'cos his first question was when can she wear high heels again? Without turning a hair she replied oh probably two weeks. So much for female solidarity...

Gore alert stop looking now...

Seriously does this foot look like it will be ready to be hoicked up into a high heel in two weeks?

Sighs what is wrong with them... even an untrained eye can see it will be a bit longer than two weeks before one is ready to go scampering after Him, teetering on high heels. It's bad enough that we look like a Chihuahua and a Great Dane, but is there any reason to hobble the Chihuahua any further? There needs to be a Slave Protection Society... anyone... err... anyone else, want to start one? 

Like a super trouper

It is a little known fact that this country is obsessed with ABBA. Now there are some cultural clues; movies like "Muriel's Wedding" and the fact that there are probably more tribute bands per capita than any other place in the world being two of them. Growing up as a child they were huge. Something that country seemed to let go of unlike this one.

Nevertheless growing up there was always heated debate about who the best singer was and who the most attractive member was. Most people used to come down on the side of Agnetha for the female lead and Bjorn out of the men. Personally one preferred Frida and thought he looked like a small monkey. Sighs... see one was never going to be great at the whole straight sexual thing... even at that age. Mind you one was sleeping with a girl friend at the time so... anyway back to ABBA.

So while one was curled up on the bed listening to Max they had one of those quickie countdown things on with ABBA as the featured band. Wandering in He pointed out that "Waterloo" was voted as the perfect piece of music by some group who know about that sort of stuff. Mind you if you have ever read Cannon literatures you will understand those people don't always know as much as people like to think. Having dropped that little gem of knowledge He wandered back out leaving one with Super Trouper.

This was the ultimate act of sadism because several days later one is still humming it in the mind. It is like a virus that you can't shake off. It keeps coming back for another stab at you when you think you are finally free of the damn thing. A fact that one was bemoaning to Him over breakfast L

You know what it's about don't you, He asked in that smug Scorpio know it all voice.

It's actually about something?

A super trouper is the name of those big single spotlights He replied

Ohhh... OMG those inane lyrics actually make sense. 

Not that the knowledge will get the song out of your head, though it may help ease the pain if you know that those sorts of songs are known as earworms J

The Neon Wand

It turned up today, looking disarmingly benign in its discrete packaging. Actually its arrival would have gone unnoticed by one small slave blissfully wasting hot water in the shower. Well it was blissful until He pressed the box up against the glass door. Wiping away the steam revealed His smirking face and this...

Sighing with resignation one turned off the tap and wandered out to find it ready to be assembled and turned on. Which was strange because it had exactly the opposite effect on one small slave... imagine that! Look you can't even feel it He said running it along his arm. Here try He said, lunging in the direction of an exposed breast. Which of course just made one move in the opposite direction... self preservation will triumph over any desire to please, every time. Contrary to popular opinion being a slave does not make you a mindless drone J

Get back here He said in that tone. One stood there contemplating the odds... it could only reach so far. You either get back here now or it will be turned up to full... said in that slightly flat, bored tone He adopts when being thwarted. Hesitantly one stepped in the range of His new toy... to be rewarded with a god awful crackling noise that made one automatically check for singed hairs... or flesh. How is it He enquired?

Really unpleasant one answered. It feels like hot pin pricks zapping you. Really He said, running it experimentally over his arm again. Nope can't feel that at all. Playfully one snatched it from his grasp and aimed it at His genitals. Hmm can feel that... just, He added. With a feeling of despair one gave up, resigned to the knowledge that if He couldn't feel it there was no hope of getting out of what was probably going to come.

See the sad fact is the body knows what to do with certain types of pain... it can deal with continual low levels of it rather well. What it can't do is cope with other types very well at all. It hates stingy things and anything electrical with a passion, and one ends up in pain that can't be processed at all. It turns a person with a high pain threshold into the biggest wimp on earth L

Which He thoughtfully videoed for your entertainment... and you will find it funny. Though it did end abruptly when the subject turned on the camera man. Something He intends to overcome with the simple measure of tying one securely in place when he goes to use it for real. Meantime He has amused himself by replaying the video several times... giggling like a school boy as he did so each and every time.

So yeah, the neon wand... it works and He loves his new toy. And it is a pretty shade of purple... which makes no difference to the outcome for the record.

Enjoy... L

Inconsequential thoughts

Sitting on the bus this morning one happened to glance over at the passenger across the aisle. Although she was average height she had the smallest feet one has seen in years and out of the blue this song popped up...

Just thought one should share it with you. It seemed only fair as it is now stuck in the mind on a repeat play cycle L

YKINMKBYK...

is just freaking strange.

The day started with Him roughly propping one up in a kneeling position and being fucked awake. Well a close approximation of it at any rate... awake enough to ask what's the time? Well it was more a series of guttural mumbles until one had the sense to turn ones head out of the pillow. Honestly before mouse it is just as well that breathing is automatic L

Moving to procure that mouse one realised just how fucking sore everything was... tits to arse... literally. The icy cold morning made the abused little nipples stand up and the rubbing on the fabric when one hauled on pj's just made it worse. And the arse? Oh well that made its presence felt when the body reclaimed it as its own.

It is strange how something that can feel so good at the time can feel so bloody painful later on. It is our persistence in the pursuit of these sensations that most non-BDSMers probably find so strange. They look at our assorted kinks and the things we like and think we are the odd ones. The thing is though some other people's pursuits are just as even more strange.

There is no endeavour where this strangeness becomes more apparent than in the field of sport. People train and plan and compete and spend hours on things like Extreme Ironing. A sport in which you have to admire not only their sense of humour, but the sheer amount of fitness that is required. Not to mention a good head for heights.

At the other end of the spectrum there is Freestyle Paddle Dancing. It is the only sport in history that seems to have only one manoeuvre. It is a bit like ice skating where all they do is swirl around the ice. Honestly though nothing prepares you for a sport more boring to watch than golf...

So next time someone says your kink is strange just point them at these examples. It should shut them up... or put them in a coma. Either way peace will reign J

Food, fondling and films

We woke up and stumbled around getting into gear to go walkies. You may have noticed a lack of the usual pre-mouse grumblings involved in that opening sentence. See what a little training can do? OK one was also bribed with breakfast on the return leg.

As one is hauling on shoes He says if we go up the stairs it should bring us out almost in front of the cafe. Those Stairs one asked distracted from lace tying. The ones where you took advantage of your slave and broke her trust? He looked around the computer screen bemused by the sudden appearance of another drama queen in our flat. Well would you rather I just pulled down your pants and sodomised you in daylight He offered. If trust is just about predictability, then doing that should be replicating the pattern and subsequently increase your trust. Sighs you see what one has to live with?

With that logic before mouse one scampered off along the waterfront. The day was quite grey and miserable and there were few people out. As we mounted the stairs and approached the landing He grabbed one by the collar, hauled one to the banister and slid his hands down the shorts, roughly slipping into one's arse. You sure you don't want a trust building exercise He enquired breathily in one's ear. Mutters why is it you can never find a walker, jogger or a convenient elderly exerciser when you need one?

The little hole in the wall cafe around the corner from us has received yet another owner and another new lease of life. In the time we have lived here it has been a restaurant, a Portuguese restaurant (which we always meant to try but it closed before we got around to it), a kebab place and now it has arisen as the Burnt Orange Cafe. A place that has chosen a simple breakfast and lunch menu that uses really fresh ingredients and generous servings. That should still one's palpitating cholesterol levels... OK maybe not with that much glorious crispy bacon J

After that, a gym visit and a shower, we set off to see "Sleeping Beauty" at the movies. It is a beautifully shot film that sets the actor's almost ethereal beauty against a wonderfully grimy Sydney. There are even some shots of the University of Sydney... yes the one of Fet fame that is always included in those nonsensical threats of law suits, and other empty promises of rather unlikely retaliations against invasions of privacy. It is also a film that has divided the critics... and upset many of them.

The film though is well worth watching... particularly by those with a fetish for partners who are drugged into unconsciousness... as it is a quietly erotic film that explores an extravagant lifestyle where age can buy beauty, and what it chooses to do with it when it is in its grasp... amongst other things. 

The reality show

Waking up one came to the realisation that there was a nasty headache lurking with intent behind the eyes. Coffee, breakfast and Panadol did nothing to halt its advance and in the end one made the sensible choice and called in sick. Even that did little to slow it down L

So armed with a second coffee one curled up to wait for Him to come home... and may one just take a moment to say kneeling naked at this time of the year is not as hot as it sounds... in fact it is downright nippy. Finally the car pulled into the garage, the door slammed and His footsteps sounded. As did a tell tale rustling sound... a sound that got louder as He juggled bags and himself through the door and endeavoured to keep the cat out. It was touch and go there for a minute... the cat is determined and it fights dirty.

Bursting through the door triumphantly He came round the corner to find one looking intently interested in the source of the rustling. Hello He said in surprise, what are you doing home. Rotten headache that is set to get worse... how are you? Oh I've got a migraine too... but I have supplies, He replied shaking a large paper bag gently. And I'll share... not words you hear from a Scorpio very often.

Slipping off his shoes, one followed him into the kitchen and happily snuffled through onion rings and fries as He scarfed a burger. Why does greasy food always taste so good when there is a bad headache coming... oh that's right... the taste buds go into hiding. It leaves you with only the base receptors of sweet and salt... both major components of junk food. Bless you developers of burger chains... you might be slowly poisoning entire generations around the globe, but damn you know your stuff.

Curled up in bed watching crap TV... which is about all one was capable of following and then only barely... He turns and says in him most winning manner I need some chocolate. Sighing in a very slave like manner, one slid out of the sheets to haul on clothes and trot around to the local shop. Wondering why the sun is always so freaking bright when you have a headache as one scampered along. And wether, when dreaming of slavery, if this is the sort of crap they have in mind... bet it's not.

Returning one cast aside clothes and slid back into bed where one was rewarded with small squares of chocolate. To be honest one could only think of Sheldon training Penny...

Which can be found here

And with that thought in mind one was lulled into sleep by the drone of the TV and analgesics. Secure in the knowledge that the headache will still be there when one wakes.

Being retired

This area has a lot of retirees. Of course it does; it's right on a stretch of lovely beaches and cafes, with an easy commute to shopping centres. It offers a laid back lifestyle, sunshine for aching bones and endless views. In recognition of these natural and not so natural advantages one of the largest growth industries, other than luxury appartments, is retirement villages. The most recent of these is "The Village".

Now while many of you are too young to remember the show "The Prisoner", some of you probably do. It was one of those fabulous British spy shows from the 60's featuring iconic clothes, music and sports cars. The show itself was slightly incomprehensible, with inscrutable plot lines and imagery that always left you feeling as though you either didn't take enough drugs or perhaps had... it was an each way bet sometimes.

The story revolved around a spy known to us as Number 6, and his struggles against being decommissioned and debriefed, after his bosses decided to make his resignation more permanent. Each week you watched his endeavours to return to London and his life, and more importantly from his bosses point of view, his attempts to take them down.

Now the questions for the day are...

Was the designer of the complex that bloody young that they don't remember the show or are they planning on issuing each new arrival with blazers and a number, and filling them with psychotropic drugs? 'Cos if so, is there a way you can put a deposit down now with an eye to the future?

Geek alert

Now some of you probably have guessed by now we are a little geeky. It is not a malaise nor will you catch it, but you can study hard for it. You can also signal to others that you are one... it is a bit like the handkerchief code, but with T-shirts and coffee mugs. To that end there are many places to get all the geeky accoutrement that signal to others of your kind, but by far one of the more diverse places is ThinkGeek.

Seriously where else will you get a tin of unicorn meat, a tie that says "Ties Suck" in binary code or an electronic butterfly in a jar... not to mention a host of other must haves. And with heady lures like these, He cruised around until he found the stuff of dreams. A way to find one in the shopping centre... which was rather cruel of Him as one heels beautifully. Anyway back to His little find. It is a t-shirt with a proximity alert on it. You both wear one and when the other person is in range it lights up.

Now let us not dwell too long how sad it is when couples go out wearing the same clothes... anyone in a long term relationship has probably done it. Hell even we have headed out the door, only to realise we are wearing the same colour combinations in a his and her format. Shudders just a little at that memory. Anyway one digresses... It was when watching this little video that one realised the BDSM potential of these T-shirts, which incidentally are on sale for under $10.

Think of the fun you could have hunting your slave with little stingy toys... the possibilities are endless.

Back in the saddle... again

Well it has been a break from butt plugs and butt sex. Of course all holidays must end and this one did the other night. With far more force than necessary might one add. Mutters and that last little playful poke at it was just downright painful.

Yesterday He replaced the large njoy with himself. It kinda put things back in perspective, as one was reamed with enthusiasm. When He was finished it was patted affectionately, and He commented that it was getting so much easier that it was time to look at the 2.0 more seriously.

He decided that the 2.0 needed to spend more time out of its satin lined box, and more time where it was intended for last week. Of course illness got in the way of that plan. What one hadn't realised was that He was considering it instead of the large njoy. As in for long term wear... o.0

Now that 2.0 is the bane of ones existence. Not only is it heavy, but it is huge. The handle is too long and you can't sit comfortably, and the sheer size of it means that gas build up is an issue, even with the vents. There is a reason that one is always trying to palm it off to some other victim lucky recipient.

Despite the issues He is convinced that the body will adjust. He believes given enough practise it will be no worse than the large njoy, which is currently making that poor little orifice feel like it is on fire as we speak. Besides it will make getting the Eleven in there easier 'cos last time He couldn't get the big end in.

Oh yes people, He is doing all of this for one small slave to make her life easier. Stop sniggering you miserable bitches. Do you honestly think your owners will stop at the large? This will be you... just you wait and see.

Creative idea #4

From the man that brought you the other ideas, there is now The Cult of the Bunny

Coming home from work one plopped down and gained possession of the good computer to catch up with some of your blogs. Of course with that owner radar, the one that always knows when you are up to something that they can interrupt, He woke up. And proceeded to chirp His way through any attempts one was making to read. It seems watching Angelina Jolie in movies makes women depressed and there is an alarming trend towards women feeling depressed after sex. Well that last one is no great surprise. After promising that AJ only ever made one happy and that sex was absolutely awesome, with no tendency towards making one depressed (quite the opposite in fact), He moved on to his latest idea.

He thinks that a bunny cult would be a good idea. As He said it is no more stupid than Gor... why does spell check keep rejecting that word when it accepts Klingon... and there are a lot of similarities. They both have a print medium... and you have to admit that one is no less vapid than the other. In fact the bunny’s even had their own manual which would end the tiresome debates that so many seem to get bogged down in about the right way to do things. They both involve the subjugation of women and a rich fantasy life with costumes. And more importantly they both have poses to learn.

It seems when you were a bunny you had to learn the bunny walk, the bunny stance, the bunny perch, the bunny dip for serving and on and on it went. Now you have to picture these poses being done by a big naked man who has just woken up, to appreciate how distracting and annoying all of this was. He proceeded to wax lyrical for what seemed an eternity with this latest idea. Things about having your slave greet you in the correct costume in the correct pose, how a pose could be morphed into one for taking off shoes... you are getting the idea.

Oh and He already has some of the original playboy club ashtrays so décor is not a problem L

You have inspired Him... Thank you, each and every one of you.