Mixed messages

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

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

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

Look it's in your favourite colour He chirps

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard!

Ever present

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

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

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

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

A day of miracles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were no gloves on display

So one went inside to ask...

Nope, all gone.

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

Arriving home one made a quick search...

No gloves

Squeeeee!!!!

Yes He will have his revenge, but...

Does a small happy dance J

The secret life

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

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

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

FFS dude get a grip...

You could have just bought the larger one :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today in review

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

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

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

Dr. Oz

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

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

Pain without pleasure

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whimsy

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

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

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

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

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

The hairs raised just a little...

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

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

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

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

He wasn't L

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

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

Don't want pink gloves.

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

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