Bits and boobs

The day ended with sex. The kind of sex that you know is going to hurt in the morning even more than it hurt at the time. Oh is started innocently enough... a little too much dinner and an offer of a little mutual masturbation. So like a lamb one trotted off after Him, skipping along, unaware of the turn things would take. In hindsight though there were warnings that things would not go according to plans...

It was a day that started with a migraine and was padded in the middle by a snooze to sleep off the effects of the medication for the damn thing. After that we went and saw Spider Man in 3D. And what a feat of endurance that was. Three hours of sitting through something that was not shot completely in 3D so you were stuck in those uncomfortable glasses more than necessary. It was also a movie that left you with the distinct impression that it was made mainly because someone had some spiffy merchandising that they needed to unload. Let's be honest with its bright primary colours S M does appeal to the child in us all... if not our wallets.

We staggered out unsure of why they had made it once again, but convinced it is like compressing a music file. Every time a file is compressed some nuance is lost... in this case the lines that are quintessentially Spider Man. Not to mention that the spiders are no longer radioactive. Yes one gets that genetically altered is more plausible, but it's a super hero movie. How plausible are any of them... just think about Wonder Woman's invisible plane for a minute before answering that J

So feeling disgruntled and both of us with sore arses for a change, we picked up some takeaways and continued back home. Which is where all this started... in bed having sex that began innocently enough...

Lying there masturbating as He was applying a delightful pressure to the nipples... it was fabulous and one was spinning around, spiralling towards a wonderful orgasm that was just ahead of the pain... when His voice whispered in one's ear, ask me to hurt you.

Say what? Where did that come from and why was it even there?

He repeated the phrase and being as one was floating on the edge one complied. That was where it started to go wrong... because He did. The sensation floated along the breast in a searing shot of pain that took the breath away. And just as the orgasm was about to overcome it the voice was back.

Ask for more He crooned

You know that old adage be careful what you ask for? Well it was for these sorts of times...

And then as one was screaming in pain and orgasm, He started to force his way into a tight vagina that is rarely used. It was like being ripped apart from the inside as He pushed and pushed, going deeper and deeper until he came

Laying there panting in the aftermath all one could feel was three points of pain that formed an inverted triangle... fuck that is going to hurt.

Move along...

Today was an auspicious day. It was a day full of portents and signs... all of them bad. What has brought about this doom and gloom you may be wondering? Ah well it was a Monday and one small slave was working. See as a rule one doesn't work on Mondays... unless begged in an appropriate manner by a desperate manager.

Over the years people have asked about this reluctance to work Mondays and one has always made vague noises about how, having worked restaurants most of the younger years, the body clock has very firm ideas about what day is the end of the working week... or the beginning for that matter. The truth though? Ah that is a far more prosaic thing...

Mondays are the days that things come home to roost...

The customer that has changed their mind

The day that gifts get returned

And we don't do refunds. This means that one small slave gets stuck with disgruntled people who haven't got their own way and now have to choose something else... It does not make for a good day. Even upselling them into something slightly more expensive does little to balance the scales of being stuck with them in the first place... though the challenge does keep one amused.

So dear read move along... there is nothing to see here J

Bear hugs

It was the end of a long day which culminated with our Tuesday night vanillas. For the next few weeks they are a two income family and it was quite funny listening to his list of must have things... though the Nerf Guns were essential. It's only a temporary thing, but for the next few weeks we will meet on a Sunday, which is damn hard on Him as there is only time for a nap in the afternoon after night shift the night before. Fortunately His body has no real concept of a body clock any more... it's been burnt out by years of erratic sleep patterns L

So there we are in bed, one of us sound asleep and one of us still flitting around, when He says come here. Moving over to His side of the bed one snuggled up. More skin He demanded, pushing one small slave off his beloved doona to lift up an end so one could get under. Other way He said. So one rolled over and snuggled up... which put the arse in a very precarious position. Wrapping His arms around one, he squeezed the breast in a vice like grip, declaring mine!

Laying very still one realised that not only was He going back into a deep sleep, but that he wasn't letting go. Of course the TV was still on and the bedside light was still blazing...

Trying a few experimental wriggles only resulted in the arm tightening more and increasing interest from other parts

Umm... you're going to have to let go

Nope!

The lights on... please may one turn it off?

The arm lifts fractionally and slams down the minute one makes a move

The lights still on...

The arm lifts again and one flees towards the remotes... to be grabbed by the arse instead.

You're always trying to escape He grumbled.

Just turning off the light. Which one did before escaping back under one's own doona

His hand followed under and one was groped and molested as He went back into a deep sleep.

Sighing one rolled over secure in the knowledge that He would probably not remember any of this in the morning. Mind you it was still better than when He used to wake one up to cuddle under his doona, then roll over taking the damn thing with him leaving one naked, awake and shivering. Those were always special hugs L

Rock-a-bye baby

I can't sleep He said, stumbling out of the bedroom for the second time.

Uh huh one replied over a mouthful of spaghetti carbonara. Well it's very hard to empathise over a creamy, cheesy sauce... really it is.

If I put on some crap TV will you come and watch it with me He asked

Um... looking longingly at the last mouthfuls of sauce and ignoring the folding and dishes sitting there waiting... OK. Just put something bad (read a show not followed by one small slave) on and one will grab a quick shower. So off one trotted in the pursuit of cleanliness...

Later curled up on the bed, slightly stupefied in a saturated fat and carbohydrate glow, as the show finished one heard Him say make me cum. Looking at Him one didn't comply with the request immediately. In fact as one pointed out it was a little hard to tell if it was a request or a command.

That's because you are a bad slave He replied

Ignoring the insult one started to turn off the screen and the router and the amplifier... it's never a simple matter of a remote around here. It was as one was reaching to put the last controller in the box... it's the only way to keep the little critters corralled together... that He attacked one with that paddle.

Don't you be nasty, otherwise one will write mean things about you in the blog.

OK for the record threatening Him might not have been the best move in hindsight. Threatening Him while he was armed might have been mildly suicidal...

Let's just say for the record He got to cum and one small slave got to do the dishes

He is a mean man L

Power and privilege

MT started an interesting thread in the group and it made the mind spin around thinking about everything around the actual questions. For starters one isn't sure you can separate class from privilege. They may not be the same thing, but they certainly stem from each other. We are middle class and we have both been afforded all the privileges that extend from that. But that is a debate for another time... back to this...

In spite of growing up in similar backgrounds they were not the same. His family are working class, with a comfortable amount of money, and He became first generation snob by attending university. Meanwhile one small slave's parental units were first generation snobs and auntie and uncle were all the more odd in that, although they were working class, they owned land... something that probably wouldn't have happened in their native England. See the colonies do have a tendency to level some... though not all... class structures. We just like to pretend they don't exist J

His family were big on parental responsibilities while the parental units at this end were... surprisingly neglectful of things like... oh let's see... curfews, wanting to know where you had been all day, what you did over the weekend, if you had actually gone to school, why you slept all afternoon... you know stuff that would have landed His parents on his back in a heartbeat. The ironic thing is that He would have thrived in a household that believed there was no wasted education (his parents believe that you get an education to get a job) and that age appropriate reading meant you could read it with minimal assistance from a dictionary... and no parental input whatsoever.

Who knows He might have got to the Marques De Sade before Nietzsche... his life could have been very different a lot sooner J

Personally one has always thought that the beach holidays He was made to suffer through year after year sounded pretty awesome. And regular meals... actually meals in general... and His mother's legendary biscuit tins sound, well are, pretty awesome too. Oh one would still have rebelled; it's what children do, but one suspects that the rebellion would have been so much more... middle class and a lot less unseemly that the route one actually took. It would have probably culminated in marriage to an inappropriate husband or two, judging by how His sister has turned out.

The bottom line is though that in spite of the differences there are enough cross over privileges that we rub along together very well. We both attended the same university and were indoctrinated by them, we both never really wanted for things, we both had people that loved us enough that we could go on to form a loving attachment to someone else and we both grew up with a roof over our heads. We have similar values... we both loath working.

We are Mother Nature's grasshoppers who were raised by ants... bless them. Well His at any rate... his still have full biscuit tins J

A negotiated surrender

Right time to go to bed and fuck me to sleep He said in that tone.

Peering at him from the coffee table one was perched on one calculated the odds of getting to finish the coffee first. They were not good. Well we could or we could try that anal sex thing one offered.

Right to bed He said

Umm... no. The shower might be a better choice in this case. Mainly because head down starts up the coughing that delights Him so while leaving one exhausted and sore... in this case at both ends. But you are going to need to be gentle... it's been a while.

He sat there with a contemplative look on his whiskers

What are you thinking?

Well I was wondering He said in a reflective tone, which would be more gentle... slamming in hard a few times or lots of little thrusts spread over time

Looking at Him with exasperation and a measure of terror one pointed out that neither really constituted as gentle

So off we trotted to the shower... one rather closer than necessary for the comfort of the other...

And He started of very gently... applying lube... the real stuff not the more convenient soap... in a very diligent manner. In fact one started to relax thinking oh this might not be too bad...

Sighs yeah one should know better...

For the record His penis is much bigger than a few fingers and His experimentation with a few little thrusts followed by slamming in hard a few times before slipping back to gentle thrusts...

Yeah, as far as the arse is concerned? Neither is gentler than the other. They hurt equally, but in different ways. 

Cheap and cheerful

Today was one of those days... too many things to do and not enough time to do them in. In spite of that one did manage to squeeze in cooking breakfast and garlic prawns for lunch, a couple of loads of laundry, cooked two casseroles to freeze, discussed the idea of starting up a home business with His mother, reluctantly turned down her offer to accompany her to the professional quilters to look at designs for a quilt she has just finished, went to the hairdressers and had these follow one home...

The thought was that they would look rather spiffy with a little black dress. 

Sighs it isn't easy coming home empty handed when you have to walk past your local dealer, on the way back from getting your hair done. Well that's the excuse one is sticking to at any rate J

And frankly one is unsure why this was called a day off... it was nonstop