Shine a little light

On the fourteenth day of holidays... more of a whimper than a song... the twoo love sodomised me...

The day got off to a very rocky start due to that migraine. In fact it was nearly lunch time when one emerged for the second time... well one had made breakfast and then headed back to bed... shaky and weak as a kitten, to make lunch. Slowly as the room righted itself, thanks to food and a shower, and the colour returned, His attentions turned less solicitous and more lecherous...

That was how one was hustled back to the bedroom for some rough anal sex

Before...

During...

... and afterwards

The man does believe in the idea that you use it or lose it...

Of course sometimes it would be nice if He used someone else's...

Um?

Hello?

Anyone?

Anyone at all?

If wishes were like horses

We were chatting over breakfast about yesterday's blog post. It was one of those funny conversations that we have sometime... the kind that make you wish you had a piece of paper... or the notebook that is usually in the bag just in case. Sighs why is it that clean outs always coincide with needing that very item that doesn't make the cut? Anyway the conversation had turned from the merit of dressing like a teenage prostitute sexily...

That conversation had deviated over territory that had included, but was not limited to, the fact that the most popular hookers are usually young. His logic was that men like young women because they dress sexily while one argued it wasn't that at all... men just like young flesh.

... to the rather revolutionary idea that how He preferred one to dress was how he saw one small slave... and how he saw one was all that mattered.

Sort of like the idea that if we were created in Gods likeness and image we can never be less than perfect one quipped...

See one did stay awake for some of the religious indoctrination lessons that mother shoved one into. That was the only bit of Christian Science that really stuck... mainly because it was at complete odds with aunties rather staunch C of E views... er... the ones that heavily imply that man is going to struggle to make the grade, probably fail and then be redeemed through some complicated process involving death and the church. The idea of missing out all the dull stuff had infinite appeal to a child. All one had to do was accept the idea of perfection and well... medical science was no longer a necessity. But one does digress... as always.

All one has to do is accept your view and... There was some uncomfortable wriggling on the seat... 'cos there was no way one was going to take that path to its logical conclusion

Yes, that would make you a good slave, He said with a small triumphant smile

Yeah not much chance of that is there... See you have to keep lowering their expectations

Oh it's like the behaviourist theory He said airily ... you act like you aren't depressed until you aren't

Sort of fake it until you make it?

Yes He agreed, you act like a good slave until you are one

Yeah, but one does wish that being a good slave didn't involve dressing like a teenage prostitute sexily

If wishes were horses He quipped

Well one does want a pony (which for clarity stems from an RPG game... one didn't get the pony 'cos the others would most likely serve it for dinner -.-)

You can have the bridle

Wanna pony

You can have a saddle

Still wanna pony

You can have the crop

Peering at Him with growing mistrust one pointed out that none of this actually involved getting a pony... more being the pony

Well we do have the equine speculum He added, almost as an afterthought

Wanna shut up now

Bastard!

So excited

All we have to do is get through four shifts, well three in His case as he has done one already, without killing some stupid customer... as a mercy killing you understand... nothing as banal as they were asking for it.... and we will be on holidays. We have plans...

Mostly each other

And we have about two and a half glorious weeks to do it in.

Of course one does have to join the co-workers for a work farewell one night and there is a two day training session booked in... ironically enough on the assorted snake oils that we sell. The manager has given one very specific instructions to not piss the presenters off, call their products snake oil or question them on their junk science and ask where the clinical trials were published. There was also a long list of words that one isn't allowed to use when conversing with them. Actually she offered to gag one before attending if it would make it easier. And it might...

Seriously He might do those sorts of things, but one is pretty sure it would constitute as abuse coming from the boss. Peers around and whispers, anyone know any good lawyers?

So that's three days gone from the holiday...

But that still leaves two weeks for important things...

Each other

Oh and that bloody equine speculum... 

Slave proposes, Master disposes

He was sitting on the couch, looking rather hot in his button fly jeans... what is it about button flies that work so much better than the far more utilitarian zip... as one sat there idly rubbing his erection through the rather thin denim with a naked foot. Smiling at Him one said why don't we get out of these clothes, go and have a quick shower and umm... you take one to bed for a little oral sex?

So off we scampered together...

Now this is where the happily ever after ending or in this case the happy ending should go, but of course our life is never quite that simple...

We are lying in bed, one of us with legs spread akimbo, when a persistent arrhythmic banging, graunching noise... a noise not caused by us... made a presence.

See we are in the middle of a cyclone at the moment... not the worst one ever, but certainly more noticeable than some. For a change it was bad enough that the awning on our window sounds like Mother Nature is trying to rip the damn thing off and take half the wall with it.

He of course was undeterred by the fact that the room sounded like the inside of a drum... why is it during sex too much audio stimulus will kill any chance of an orgasm for one of us while the other, who can't tune out the sound of muzak in a lift, can carry on undeterred?

And carry on He did. Raising one up onto all fours, He proceeded to deliver the longest, slowest, most painful fucking in the history of our time together. It was painful because that extra inch now hits the cervix, or rather the scar where it used to be. He amused himself by creating little rhythms of pain. Slip, slip, bang. Jab, jab, jab, and slam. In the end the body did the only thing it could and embraced the pain... blocking out the noise long enough to cum in a screaming orgasm.

Afterwards He rolled over to sleep while the other one of us spent an evening on the couch by candle light... 'cos the power went out... for more hours than there were candles L

You know some days...

Just don't work out quite like you envisioned them.

See the day was supposed to involve things that looked like this...

Where in reality it looked more like serious couch warming... followed by a nap.

The virus is kicking one so bad that there was even mention of making a doctor's appointment for large quantities of blood to be extracted... next week. We don't want to rush into those sorts of decisions. Besides giving it a name won't make us any more acquainted than we already are J 

Spoilers

Look what arrived in the mail...

The fucking thing is huge L

Surprise

Well there are some interesting things of their way He announced, walking into the lounge.

Are there?

Yes some stuff from MEO...

Like what?

I left it up for you to see...

What that bright red thing?

Yes

What size is that?

I have no idea He replied

Glancing up from the book one suddenly started to pay attention...

But MEO makes huge toys

Oh and the equine speculum  was on special at JT's so I ordered one of those too He added, almost as an afterthought.

He sat there watching one's face

You know you could have just bought an Easter egg like a normal person. Or was this an early birthday present?

Well you always said you weren't that into birthdays and preferred un-birthdays He said, in that infuriating rational voice.

Yes, but one still likes presents not un-presents

L

Picture this...

It is day two of a migraine that is completely non-responsive to modern anything.  So crawling in the door after an excruciatingly slow, bumpy bus ride home, fighting the ever accompanying nausea every kilometre of the way, one plops down in the office chair grateful to no longer be moving. A feeling of peace settles over one small slave as the room finally stops lurching and spinning in time to the stomach. For that moment all is well in the world... well this small corner of it at any rate.

That feeling was short lived because as the hand alighted on the mouse, the computer screens sprang into life.  In large screen format, on the side devoted to emails, this is revealed in bright, clear colour. See round here He doesn't have to leave the comfort of his office to find ways of torturing his slave. It comes to him via an electronic medium and a brutally efficient mail out system. The world just conspires against you sometimes L

On the bright side one is safe for the moment 'cos He just took a vow of temporary poverty after buying the MEO stretching ring set (small, medium and large) in an effort to stave off any boredom He might experience playing nurse while one recuperates. Actually... that's not really safe is it? More a frying pan fire thing...

Is there a slave sanctuary out there?

Anywhere?

This whole recuperation thing is looking more like a shut in with Nurse Ratchet L

After the event

We had a friend over the today for lunch, dinner and a little exploration of mutual interests. Oddly enough one is going to say very little on that topic other than it was a wonderful day, that left us all a little too high on endorphins. In fact this post would look like we picked them up at the train station, picked up some wine for lunch, redacted, went and got seafood, redacted, redacted, redacted, went out for Zorbas excellent pizza, redacted, redacted and took them home. Well it would except for one tiny little problem...

He is a big boy and so are most of his toys and one small slave has a latex allergy. All of this means we have to import large latex free condoms because they are not available in this country. Not really a big deal in this age of international postal systems that are linked. So He hopped on line, ordered some from Condom Jungle, paid for the hideously expensive (over $30) expedited post that promised arrival in six working days, and got on with other things.

Anal speculum

That order was placed on the 20 July and guess what? We are still waiting for those bloody condoms. It meant that some of the things we had planned were shelved in favour of others. We are nothing if not adaptive, though one does now have a sink full of toys that are going to have to be sterilised rather than just cleaned. Happily the day ended up looking like this --->

Honestly though, this could have been the biggest three way disaster in the history of sex, so thank you Condom Jungle L

The postie is Satan’s helper

We have a strange house... it doesn’t face the way it should. Well not as far as the contractors for the postal service are concerned. Each time their contracts are up we have to train another one that just because our post box is on one street, doesn’t mean our entrances are. In fact thrusting them through the gate on the post box side only delivers them into a rose garden... you would think the scratches from the thorns would be a giveaway wouldn’t you?

The trouble is that when you have trained them they then diligently deliver stuff to your door, and sometimes they are things that might be best left in the rose garden. None of this receiving reluctance is improved by the fact that He can find nasty things from all over the world... and often does. They never ban the things they could ban oh no... They ban things like the vinegar one loves and can’t get in this godforsaken place (the stuff here is too weak to crawl to the edge of the bottle). They seem only too happy to let in nasty arse toys and implements of torture.

The new speculum arrived the other day and He was just quivering to try it out. So yesterday, as one lay on the bed, aroused, wet and very compliant He produced it from nowhere and slid it in. Cranking it open with a speed that made one gasp, He peered at it from all angles and then grabbed a camera. The damn thing wouldn’t focus due to lack of light as the curtains were closed.

Close your eyes He said, as he flicked on the bright halogens that make up some of the bedrooms light sources. It is very hard to stay focused on sexual thoughts with bright lights shining on you and someone shoving a camera where it doesn’t belong. As the arousal levels dropped one became aware that the speculum hurt like a bitch. It was a protest that fell on deaf ears.

Roll over He said cheerfully. As one started to comply the speculum bit back and one uttered a shriek of pain and screamed get it out. Note to self do not roll over with that in you and cranked open. It opens a different way from the other one as you can see here and it renders you immobilised on fear of pain... lots of it.

Afterwards, when He had finished coming in ones arse, He slipped the butt plug back in and as the arousal levels dropped one realised how sore it was. It felt like someone had kicked the damn thing. Every time one rolled over in search of a new sleep position, the butt plug nudged against the walls of the vagina and you could feel the bruising. Mutters still don’t believe women have children by choice...

How does it feel?

Some women enjoy the whole Pap smear experience... apparently. Not one of them, so one will have to bow to His wisdom on the matter. Personally one is just happy that they only have to be done every five years... the upside (one of many) of a hysterectomy. Conversely He of course enjoys jamming unnatural objects into ones orifices, especially ones that can be cranked open. He likes to see things that are in secret places or hidden from view. Needless to say gags and speculums are some of His favourite things.



Lying on the bed while you are lubed up, a speculum inserted and cranked open is an alienating experience. It feels like it is not your body, which is rather the point of it. Having someone kneel between your thighs and ejaculate into you is even more so. It is impersonal, dissociative, isolating. You feel used small, insignificant, unimportant.

Just as him pulling it out of you, taking it way, leaving you alone does. It makes you feel like a toy... played with and discarded. It is very erotic this sensation of having been used and discarded with no thought. But then one has always found the strangest things erotic...