I don’t seem to have much in the way of words these days. The well has run dry.
Perhaps all of the breath play and choking out has finally killed enough brain cells that I can’t write anymore. ;-)
Luckily, I have some photos and video to pick up the slack.
The other day I sat home waiting for Master to get home. He’d have a rough day at the office and I wanted to make it better somehow.
He gave a little write-up of it on Fet so I won’t get too detailed on my own. What he said is true. I was waiting for him on my knees, drink in hand. He sipped his drink while I removed his boots and socks and wrapped his feet in warm, wet towels. I left his feet to soak in the towels while i removed his shirt and kissed my way back down to his feet. I bathed his feet, before kissing on them, too.
He has a weakness for foot worship and toe sucking.
Then he got on the table and I gave him a sensual full body rub with warmed up oil, wiping him down with hot towels. The candles were flickering, zen music was on the surround sound, there was the click-clack of my high heeled boots on tile floor (a sound he finds very sexy) and I ended it by giving him a long, slow, slippery hand job with hot oil and then washed his cock with a warm cloth.
I seriously think his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It was great.
It can be tricky to do that kind of anticipatory service. He very well might have preferred to come home and hit the couch and not be bothered. It’s always his choice on what to do but there’s an element of obligation involved in setting up service like that. I wouldn’t have been upset had he said thanks but no thanks, but there’s still a level of expectation.
He neither wants nor expects that kind of ceremony all the time. He’d not like it if it were too frequent, in part because of the expectation of his involvement (submission, almost? to my plans?). So I don’t push it. Just once in awhile.
At some point in the recent past, he put the chain back on the bed. It’s not long enough to reach the bathroom and he’s not keen on being woken up for me to use the bathroom, yet my bladder insists on being emptied at least once during the night, if not twice. So, I got this:
It’s been a pretty humbling experience to crawl over to it in the dark, try to keep the chain quiet, and squat over the pot. The puppy pad is there just to catch any spills or drips because I’m not allowed to turn a light on. I try very hard not to wake him, not only because he told me not to but because… because he’ll humiliate about it a little bit.
But. At least I get toilet paper. I don’t always. For instance, I don’t get toilet paper when he makes me go outside to piss; something he’s been doing more and more frequently. “Go piss in the yard like the dog, cunt.” I can wipe with my hand and lick it off or I can use grass or I can let the drips dribble down my leg like a “filthy, disgusting whore”. Actually, they all end in “filthy, disgusting whore” so there you go. Win-win. Or is that lose-lose? Who cares. :D
When he first got home, and for about the first week, he was suuuuper grumpy. Like to the point where I’d gotten smacked across the face before we’d even left the airport grounds when I picked him up. Like to the point where I asked him if he needed to change his manpon and take a midol. Like to the point where we got into a quasi-argument about a social issue that concluded by him telling me that I was no longer allowed to express an opinion contrary to his when in his presence.
Why was he in such a bad mood? I don’t know. He didn’t know. Thankfully it passed and life resumed normally.
Well, you know. As normal as we get anyway. ;)
We’ve settled into something of a routine. Master is having to go into the office, the trade off being that with the exception of a one week trip coming up soon, he’s not scheduled to go out on any longer rotations. I love having this kind of routine back. I’d missed it soo much.
I set the coffee the night before so in the morning there’s time to shower with him. I don’t get to do my own shower stuff but I get in with him and wash him, wash his hair, then get out and dry him off before I head off to make breakfast.
While he’s gone I do my chores or the yardwork, run errands, whatever. When he gets home, we usually have a drink or two, relax, sometimes hit the pool or watch tv.
We fuck or he gets his dick sucked at least once a day, usually more like two or three times. Most often under the desk, sometimes in the sex swing, sometimes bent over the ottoman- my ass and knees propped up on the ottoman, my hands on the floor, my face almost on the floor (such a hot, handy, degrading positioning. swoons) but rarely-to-almost-never in the bed.
I am not allowed clothes, unless I have to. The other morning he came downstairs and I was dressed and he was like “Why the fuck do you have clothes on?” all set to pop me one and I reminded him that it was garbage day and I was just getting ready to take it out. Then he was all, welllll…. alright but then get them off and next time ask first or else.
Yes, Sir. :)
He has been quite strict about my tone, my wording, asking for ev-er-y-thing. I’m loving every second of it. What he hasn’t been strict about is my body- my diet and exercise. That’s on me and since i’m not making the progress he’d like to be seeing, he took some very unflattering photos of my fat gut (he calls it my “meat apron”) and I have to print them out and hang them around the house. Fortunately I don’t (yet) have to post them here and I’m allowed to take them down if we’re having company. Thank god.
Anyway, after dinner and fucking and doing whatever, at bedtime, I read the mantra to him. I only have to read it once, maybe twice. He may or may not hurt me during, or make me say thank you when he hurts me.
We’ve been pretty busy, seeing people and going places. We went to a play party- we didn’t play but it was lots of fun. Houston play parties are so well attended, with people from all walks. I love them. Over this last weekend we went up to Dallas and visited my sister and her family. We went to the Grapefest in Grapevine, Tx. Another night we had some friends over, I made dinner, we played, they played. We talked toys and techniques and relationship styles. Master made me pee outside… And then another night we went to visit friends and ate dinner and talked and hung out.
Yesterday, we were sitting on the couch watching a movie and Master declared it punching day. Throughout the movie, he was punching me everywhere. Some hard shots, too, fuuuck. My lips were a little swollen- not noticeable, only to me and in how sore they feel on the inside, and I have a sore spot on my cheekbone but it didn’t bruise. I did bruise on my arms and thighs though, and a little on my ribs. It sure feels like there’s a bruise under my pubic hair. My upper arms and the outside of my upper thighs took the worst of it. Maybe I’ll get some pictures of the bruises that are still blooming. But they are so fucking sore to the touch and my thighs have lumps on them. I had trouble getting comfortable enough to sleep last night because I’m normally a side sleeper and I just couldn’t lie on my side without it hurting.
He kept reminding me he wasn’t hitting as hard as he could. “Be grateful, cunt. It can always be worse.” I’m surprised I’m not more bruised than I am because it was fucking painful. I don’t even want to know what a full force punch from him would feel like. It’d lay me out, for sure.
Well, would you look at that. I guess I found some words after all. Maybe Master needs to try harder to kill them off. ;-)
Speaking of, he gave killing me off a good old college try here:
Master tries to drown me- Part One and Part Two.
Some stills I took from the clips for funsies.
But I lived! Pretty sure I’m still trying to get water out of my sinuses though. ;)
ps: The site still might go down. Hard to say how long it’ll take but just so you know.