I wish I didn’t absorb his moods like the errant white shirt in a load of angry reds. Blergh.
A conversation after reminding Master of my upcoming appointment with my hair dresser.
me: My hair has to be clean and dry when I go.
Him, disinterested: Mhm.
me: So I’m washing it and then I’m not putting any product in it.
Him, yawning: Mmkay.
me: Which means YOU can’t put any product in it, either.
Him, obviously confused: What?
me, holding up fingers and ticking off the list: No dunking, no pissing, no spitting, no jizzing. In my hair.
Him: ~looks a lot like a kid who just got told he can’t have a quarter for the gum ball machine~
Then his face brightened and he snatched me by the chin and jammed his fingers into my mouth, stretching my lips open.
Him: Then I guess what needs to happen is you better open up wider.
Him: Problem solved.
Master’s been home for one week and i’ve gained 4 pounds. ~head desk~ ~head desk~ ~head desk~ ~head desk~ ~head desk~ ~head desk~
He kills me. Fo’ realz.
Otherwise, though, we’ve been having a blast. No heavy scenes, not a lot of pain. We do still have a house guest, after all. But lots of sex and lots of service and I am a-okay with that. Pain is overrated, says the non-masochist. ;)
We have been doing some work outside, more landscaping stuff. We’re making a naughty gnome-ville section. I’ll get some pictures when it’s done. He bought me a gnome fountain, a birdbath, a HUGE shade umbrella (because Texas, yo) and a tiny swimming pool. Heh.
The pool is one of these quickset ring pools, the 10 foot one. It’s the perfect depth (maybe 3 feet?) to just sit in and cool off. And then we bought this chair and wouldn’t you know, it makes a PERFECT floating sex chair?
Heh. Empty nest is the most awesomest thing in the history of awesome.
As are privacy fences. ;-)
I was going to title it Home Sweet Home but I realized my home is wherever he is, so…
Anyway. He’s home. :)))))))))))))
I got a lovely little rapey scene this morning, about 530 or 6am. I was jerked away by him yanking the blanket off of me, and before I’d even taken a breath, he was ramming himself up into my cunt. There was an explosion of pain, and his hand gripping my tit like a handle, hard, fast thrusts and wham bam, thank you ma’am.
Well, in this case it was ‘thank you, sir’ but you know what I mean. ;)
Then I did lawn care, with Master’s… supervision.
He’s a kind and generous owner. I got to wear a hat AND shoes.
and after, in continuation of his kindness…
I know, this is short and sweet, but we have a busy day and he’s waiting on me to get going. On a not so bright side, our car got scraped in a parking lot so we’re off to a body shop for an estimate. Bugger!
The last time (or maybe the time before, I can’t remember exactly) Master was away, he gave me permission to redecorate our bedroom. I had limitations–I couldn’t paint the walls or buy new furniture or even rearrange the furniture.
Basically, I got to buy new decor. Oh, and I also had to stay in his preferred color scheme, which is called Shades of Boredom.
I mean, earth tones.
Other than that, though, he said, and I quote: “You have free rein, cunt. Have fun.”
Maybe he was having a weak moment, I don’t know.
You’d think with all those restrictions on my free rein he’d have been protected from not liking what I did, right?
You’d be wrong. Hahaha.
Personally, I love it. He walked in for that first look, wrinkled his nose and said “It looks like an old lady’s bedroom.”
Of course, it’s a given that any time he doesn’t like what I do, it gets changed back. But for some reason he won’t let me do that. Anytime I’ve brought up changing the decor in there he tells me to shut up about it, and yet, he keeps making comments about it, about how I feminized his bedroom and didn’t I know him better than that?
It’s like a continued, never ending punishment of sorts. Which is the point, I’m sure. I mean, I still love the bedroom decor lol, but not as much. And I get a little twinge of yuck every time I walk in there.
Anywho, so we were talking on the phone the other day and he, again, made a snide comment about how I “girled” up his place and something about the smelly (yummy scented!) candles on the night stands, and I said, “Master. I put the candles there so we could have sex by candlelight!”
“Put them under the desk, cunt, and you can be objectified by candlelight.”
So I am going to do just that.
It’ll be the most romantic objectification EVAR.
I’ll just woo myself, the old spoilsport.
Remember this post I made a couple years back about getting too fat for my collar and how it was choking me and I was going to be the first case ever of a slave with an embedded collar if’n I didn’t get my shit together and stay out of the fridge?
Well check this shit out, yo.
It is loose enough now that I can tuck my chin into it (I look like a ridiculous turtle when I do it but I can do it lol). I’ve lost an inch and a half around my neck. Of FAT. Yuck!
Might have to get a new collar before I can slip this one right over my head– and then I’ll be freeeeeeeee like Dobby! ;-)
(j/k. It’s never going to fit over my head. haha.)
This is me, like 2 weeks or so ago.
I’m down about 28 pounds. This morning I was 170. (One more pound and I’ve reached Master’s goal for this month. But he comes home tomorrow! Argh! lol)
This was me in April.
I’ve lost 16 total inches off my body. That’s what I love about taking measurements. More so than what the scale says, adding up those inches is what keeps me motivated.
When I started dieting back in January, I was pushing 200 on the scale. I fluctuated between 196 and 198. I’ve done a lot of yo-yo’ing over the last 6 months but these last few weeks have been something of a game changer. I’m seeing and feeling the progress. I know I have a long way to go yet. I have been here before, right here exactly, at this weight, at this level of determination, and completely lost it so I’m trying not to get too smug about it.
Master would like me to be 150. I’d like to be about 130 but he “doesn’t like them too skinny” so we’ll see.
What is most encouraging for me right now is how I feel. I feel strong and healthy, I’m energetic, I’m not stiff in the mornings like I used to be, my feet don’t hurt like they used to. I started the couch to 5K program (again) and it doesn’t feel overwhelmingly difficult, it feels good to run. Not that I can run for any great distance lol but what I am doing feels good.
I got these silly pajamas in honor of Babygirl’s birthday. It’s pathetic that I bought myself a present for my granddaughter’s birthday but any excuse is a good excuse to buy silly stuff says me. What I love about these, besides being probably the most comfortable things EVER, is the size. Not an X anywhere to be seen. :)
I’ve been keeping busy. I guess since I’m outside mowing the yard every other day, I took up yard work as a hobby. It seems silly to put this kind of work and expense into a rental home but we’ll be here another year at least and I want to enjoy where I live and what I’m looking at.
These are the two trees in the backyard. Pretty, flowering trees. I love them.
I had originally had all the gnome stuff out front but it lacked curb appeal so I moved it out back. I still have to edge around this one.
I kept it simple up front. I hate those bushes under that window but they’re pretty deeply established and it’d be major work to remove them and I’d have to replace them with something else and blah blah blah. They grow like crazy, in all sorts of crazy directions, but at least round about November/December, they do get pretty flower-y things on them, so there’s that.
I know it’s pretty small time stuff as landscaping goes but like I said, rental home. Meh. Keeps me busy anyway.
And then, just to make sure I retain my kinky blog status, here’s my butt.
..after sitting on that horrid spiky mat for all of three minutes. Longest three minutes of my life. Hate that thing so hard.
So naturally Master told me to buy another one and make a bra out of it.
He’s so lovely.
No he’s not, I lied. He’s horrid too. Just like that bra is going to be.
It should be here today.
Master will be here tomorrow.
I’m planning my funeral for Friday.
See you there? :D
It’s Babygirl’s birthday. She’s turning 6 today.
As in the number 6. SIX YEARS.
I am unbelievably sad to miss these days with them. I’ve missed lots of birthdays. I haven’t been there for either of 2.0’s birthdays, (and she’ll be 3 in Sept.) and I’ve missed too many of Babygirl’s. Dumb military life. Distance is hard. And Germany is a long distance. ~sad face~
They are having some difficulties over there. There was a much bigger drop in pay than they’d anticipated, they don’t have their car yet (paperwork snafus, it hasn’t even *shipped* yet) which has made everything 10 times harder with no transport and two little kids. My SIL is doing much more traveling training which is leaving Jes home alone more than usual.
AND. They are getting custody of Step-granddaughter. Why that couldn’t happen before they got there I don’t know, but they had to wait until bio-mom was agreeable. They’d have never won a fight and they knew it, but now she’s voluntarily signing over sole custody to them and while that’s a good thing, it’s created a mountain of red tape and a logistical nightmare to get the child to Germany. However, once his child support stops, they’ll be a little better off financially (hopefully), and the step-granddaughter will be better off, too.
I admit I’m a little concerned about Jes taking on another kid full time. I mean, she’s been doing *spectacularly* with her kids, considering her rocky start, and I am so fucking proud of her. I’m worried that with him being gone-anticipated for months at a time- and her on her own with the 3 of them, and the additional stresses they’ve encountered being in a foreign country… I’m just worried. Step-granddaughter is beginning to show the behavior issues that come along with having had an incredibly chaotic and dysfunctional start in life so that’s not going to be easy (she turned 6 in January, btw.), she had trouble in her first year of school, she’s prone to tantrums…
Worried. Worried worried worried.
We are hoping to get over there for a visit sometime over the holidays. I’m not sure when exactly but somewhere around the end of the year hopefully. I’m getting my very first passport ever. Like, I’m practically a grown up now. :D
Anyway. Babygirl is 6 years old. How many of you remember when she was born? Now, she’s reading chapter books, can do math and writes diary entries. She cooks and tells stories and plays WoW with her dad lol. She had a terrific first year of kindergarten, testing well above her age level in reading. She’s making friends on post and has play dates and can swim and ride a bike (with training wheels, haha). She’s very much into Monster High, cooking, Shopkins, and The Littlest Pet Shop toys. Her mom got her an easy bake oven for her birthday which she’s going to LOVE, and I got her some Monster High stuff, shopkins, and a chocolate mold set so she can make her own candy bars and add fillings to them. She’s having a birthday party with friends and a pinata and her mom made her a Frozen cake.
And I’d give almost anything to be there. :(
It was 11 years ago in July, right around this time of the month, that I first met Master.
We did it the old fashioned way. You know, I chatted with him online and then invited him to my house for a booty call. As you do.
And then.. like, he never left. Nor did I want him to leave.
I mean, he did leave, of course, because life doesn’t give a fuuuck if you’ve just met your soul mate; he had work and I had work and there was the small matter of us living and working in different states.
But somehow, in the lengthy, endless span of 2 whole months, we’d worked all that shit out and I moved in with him.
The rest, as they say, is history.
I remember being as giddy as a schoolgirl that day that I met him, watching him walk up my sidewalk. My whole body reacted to him, like iron filings to a magnet.
11 years later I still get giddy when I see him. My body still reacts just as strongly. It’s never faded and I can’t imagine it ever will.
The traditional 11th anniversary material is steel. Wellllll….. I’ve already got steel around my neck, around my wrists, around my ankles, and lodged up my ass, so-
Mebbe we’ll just skip this year’s gift giving. (pleasepleasefortheloveofgod)
Happy I’m-so-glad-I-met-you Anniversary, Master. :)
and then he said:
Yep, Steel, already have the Steel idea. stainless steel to attach all the steel cuffs and collar together and of course the anal hook to attach it to as well. BTW..NJOY your day today and tomorrow.
We’ve reached that stage of absence where we get irritable. Or, at least I have. I feel pretty confident in saying he has too because he’s being a big meanie head.
It all started when I got stung by a bee.
Actually… no, it started when he got all Billy Bad Ass about my daily step count and losing weight. And then I got stung by a bee.
Which, I mean, whatever, it’s a bee sting, I didn’t get hit by a bus (no matter how hard y’all try to throw me in front of one. Fuckers.) I’m not allergic or anything serious like that. The day I got stung, which was two days ago, it didn’t faze me at all. Yesterday it didn’t faze me. At some point last night, it started to sting and itch. I took a Benadryl, but I slept like crap. This morning it was pretty swollen and still super duper itchy. It was so swollen I had to take the wrist cuff off because my wrist was starting to swell around it. Taking the cuff off helped, the swelling was going down almost right away.
But it was still itchy so I took a couple more Benadryl tablets. I still took the dog for a walk and did chores this morning, but once the Benadryl kicked in, I started getting really drowsy.
These kinds of medicines always hit me like a mack truck. Nyquil, Benadryl.. anything like that. I rarely ever take stuff like that so it knocks me on my ass when I do. I fell asleep, and dozed off and on for a couple of hours. Then Master called. We chit chatted about normal stuff, blah blah blah. Nothing untoward. He asked why I had been sleeping, I told him I took some Benadryl and it made me tired. I said I was still really groggy.
Then he said he was running late and had to go *right now* and finished by saying “And get your steps in today” to which I hurriedly replied no because there wasn’t time to say anything more. Then he was gone.
He likes to do that to me. Give me orders when I don’t have the opportunity to respond. It pisses me right off, it does.
A bit later I get a text from him.
“You’re going to pay for telling me no.”
To which I replied:
“I can’t just pretend Benadryl doesn’t contain ingredients that make me tired. If I’d have known you were more worried about the pedometer than the swelling and itching, I wouldn’t have taken any. So the priority isn’t to take care of myself, it’s to obey no matter what. Gotcha. My bad.”
(snark, what? Not me.)
To which he replied:
“Good answer, cunt. The priority is both.”
I said: “Can’t be both when one conflicts with the other and I can’t get a hold of you to clarify.”
He said: “Health is always first. No worries.”
(to which I thought ‘oh, good answer cu-‘ wait no, no I didn’t even think that. Ahem.)
and I said: “Am I still going to “pay” for telling you no? Because that’s a worry.”
and he says: “Yes. Of course you are. I understand what you were trying to say but there are more respectful ways to say it.”
Then he rambles on for a bit about other, unrelated nonsense and I’m not saying anything so he asks me if I’m still there and I say ‘yes but i’m sulking’ and he says ‘ok. I’ll talk to you later, bye.’
Because he haaaaaates sulking.
So I’m going to sit here where nobody cares and sulk and eat peanut butter out of the jar because that seems like the most mature and slavish course of action I can think of.
Well. I thought Master did. Now I’m having second thoughts lol.
He ordered me this: Jaxxx Hammer Multi Function Rechargeable Sex Machine.
And at first I thought-and said- “Ooooh! You’re so NICE! You’re gone a lot and you really care about my sexual well-being. You are just. so. great!”
I was full of the grateful slave thankies.
Then I remembered-
He comes home next week.
He’s bringing his cock with him as he’s rather attached to it, so why oh why do we need a second cock ’round here anyway?
Oh, fuck me.