Contract

While I was cleaning just now, I started thinking about some articles I’d read here and there making fun of Master/slave contracts. Especially one recently where a woman was claiming abuse and using the contract as some sort of “proof”. (I’d find the link but I’m rushed for a time. And basically too lazy. :P) Anyway, there were several places where the contracts were being bashed as silly, ridiculous, insane… and more.

I personally found the contracts to be rather light..lol

Anyway, it occurred to me that it was those links that have kept me from ever posting mine. Worried that it would be ridiculed and scoffed at, the next bit of fodder on the sites I’d been to. And that bothered me.

I’m not ashamed of my contract. I am not ashamed of my relationship. I don’t care who finds this silly, or unrealistic. So I’m posting it.

I’ll tell you what’s unrealistic is Master’s insistence that I’ll memorize this thing and be able to recite it on command. *snicker* He’s such a kidder isn’t He!

General Rules.

Slave will place a fresh glass of water by the bed at bedtime.

Slave will apply lotion to Master’s feet every night.

Slave will ask respectfully for the collar and chain. Master will hold the key.

Slave will sleep naked.

Slave will make coffee in the morning.

Master will state a request once and only once.

Slave will answer promptly.

Slave will follow the chore list daily. (see chore list at end of page)

Slave will ask for permission to use the bathroom, to eat, to use the computer, to use the furniture.

Slave will hold onto the Master’s belt, hand or loop while walking.

Slave will not block or move away from Master’s touch.

Slave will address Master as “Sir” or “Master” when appropriate.

Slave will write in her journal a minimum of three times a week, daily when Master is out of town.

Slave will wear nipple clamps twice a day, 15 minutes each time.( See schedule at end of page.) Will spend that 15 minutes kneeling in the corner, quietly reflecting on her place.

Slave will wear the butt plug for a minimum of a continuous one hour period a day. Every day.

Slave will wear the ben wa balls for a minimum of one hour a day, except for the week of her menstrual cycle.

Slave will take the dog for a 30 min (minimum) walk twice a day, morning and night.

Slave will wear the butt plug (this is not to be included in the one hour a day butt plug rule) and the scrunchy for the morning walk.

Slave will wear the butt plug (this is not to be included in the one hour a day butt plug rule) and tack bra inserts for the evening walk.

While in Master’s presence, slave shall ask Master if He would like her to be wearing the plug, the scrunchy, the tack bra, the ben wa balls, or all of the above, periodically throughout the day.

Slave will ask if Master would like a blow job after being chained in for the night and before being unchained in the morning.

At least three times a week, slave will present Master with something new learned on the internet that supports slave training, serving, or cooking. Computer time will not be used wastefully.

Slave will spend one hour a day on the exercise machine.

At bedtime, Master will review the day with the slave (in person or on the phone or msn) to check for incomplete chores, missed tasks, missed opportunities to serve, or other failures, such as arguing or Master having to repeat a request more than once. Each “demerit” is equal to one (or more at Master’s discretion) icy-hot covered clothespin applied to the slave’s labia for one (or more at Master’s discretion) minute. (i.e. three demerits equals three clothespins for three minutes, ten demerits equals ten clothespins for ten minutes, etc.) Slave will apologize to Master for each transgression as each clothespin is applied and again as each one is removed.

When school is out for the summer, tasks and nipple clamping can be done before the kids wake up and after they go to bed. Butt plug can be inserted in the bathroom or bedroom

Daily Chore List
Sunday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Reserve time for what Master wants to do.
Monday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Laundry. Clean bathroom
Tuesday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Dust. Clean kitchen, mop, clean out fridge, wipe down appliances.
Wednesday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Clean bathroom. Straighten up any mess in the basement, clean entry-way.
Thursday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Laundry.Clean living room.
Friday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Put clean clothes away. Clean bedroom. Clean bathroom.
Saturday: Vacuum/sweep. Dishes. Reserve time for what Master wants to do.
Mow lawn as needed.

Daily Task List
Monday-vibrator torture day:Three big orgasms.
Tuesday-cunt torture: At least one picture of something big or unusual inside the slave’s cunt.
Wednesday- corner 30 min. jaw spreader for 10 min.
Thursday: tit torture. If no other specific task, as many clothespins, clamps as the slave can fit for 30 min to an hour and a half. White ones first. Timer does not start until completely covered.
Friday: freaky friday.

Daily Nipple Clamp Schedule
Sunday AM. Clothespins
PM. Clovers
Monday AM. Nice white clips.
PM. Mean white clips.
Tuesday AM Tweezers.
PM. Alligator
Wednesday AM. Screw type ones.
PM Wood Clamps
Thursday AM Red tipped metal clamps.
PM. Chopsticks
Friday AM Mousetraps
PM yellow suction cups
Saturday AM Chip clips
PM tightly wrapped rubber band around nipples.

Daily Diet.
No more than two cups of coffee (white Bucyrus cups) per day. One glass of skim milk with lunch and supper. Water is the only other approved beverage, unless asked and granted by Master.

Breakfast: Special K with banana or orange. Coffee.
Mid-morning. One snack from snack list.
Lunch: A combination of two of the following three items: Soup or salad or sandwich. Glass of milk.
Afternoon: One snack from snack list.
Supper: A bowl of salad with low-fat dressing or a large helping of vegetables before the main course. One small serving of the main course. Glass of milk.
Evening: One snack from snack list.

Snack list: Piece of fruit, rice cake, small handful reduced fat wheat thins, cottage cheese, yogurt, carrot or celery sticks.

Daily Schedule.
Upon waking, the slave will ask if Master would like a blow job. After performing (if a blow job is desired), the slave will do her first 15 min nipple clamp/corner task. After the task, the slave may then make coffee and use the bathroom. (Unless Master would like coffee started and served first.)

Slave will make/eat breakfast (with permission). If the kitchen was cleaned up the night before, the slave may spend a small amount of time online. If it wasn’t cleaned up after supper, the slave will clean the kitchen and do the dishes and no computer will be allowed in the early morning.

If there is time before the kids wake up, try to get the daily task done.

When the kitchen is done (or 30 minutes online is up), the slave will do her one hour on the exercise machine and then shower.

After the shower, do the first dog walk.

Begin on household chores.

Lunch.

Do the one hour butt plug.

Continue chores/laundry.

Supper. Clean up kitchen.

Do second dog walk.

Spend about 20 or 30 minutes before bed practicing and learning the numbered slave positions.

If the daily task hasn’t been done yet, do it now.

Second 15 minute nipple clamp/corner task.

Get Master’s glass of water.

Lotion Master’s feet.

Discuss with Master any failures throughout the day and receive discipline. Unless Master wishes to use the slave’s cunt, any icy hot remaining on the cunt lips after the discipline will stay there for the night.

Request collar and chain.

Offer Master a blow job.

Sleep.

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These clamps

I have a love/hate relationship with these clamps. It’s only when I’m at my deepest level of masochistic need, hovering on the edge of orgasm that the sharp pain these clamps inflict becomes “good” pain. And often even then, it’s too much. It’s enough pain that it pulls me too far from orgasm, distracts me, as my mind struggles to overcome it.

When I’m no where near being that turned on, these clamps are agonizing. Such a deep-seated pain that I can think of nothing else when they are on. Even breathing is forgotten for a moment.

I might think I have it conquered. I might think I’ve lassoed the pain, have it under control, close my eyes and will myself to rise above it. And then He’s only got to wiggle the chain, just a tiny bit, and I’m plunged again to the bottom.

These clamps are no good for wearing during lectures. His voice, the words, can’t penetrate. My answers are automatic, frantic, manic.

“Yes Master. Yes Sir.” Blurting out agreements and promises inbetween the heavy waves of pain, inbetween the uncontrollable gasps and moans as the chain is lifted, dropped, tugged, twisted.

In the end, I could not tell you what He said. Nor what I agreed to.

These aren’t the clamps to wear for communication.

These clamps are no good for concentration. For reflection on service. They obliterate thoughts.

The moment His fingers release the full pressure, I’m captivated by the pain. My mind dwindles to nothing. Nothing except the pain radiating from those small, pinched parts.

I long to beat these clamps. I hate these clamps. My stomach flips and my bladder cramps everytime He reaches for them.

I’m afraid of them. I hate them.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours. Cornered with these clamps on my nipples, pulling me to my tiptoes. A torture I don’t soon forget. They leave, in their wake, an ache that persists for days. The metal teeth draw blood, leave bruises.

Yet, it’s these very clamps that I dream about.

That I fantasize about.

I fear the pain they inflict, yet these clamps are at the very top of the toy box. When His hand passes over them for a different set, it’s a confusing flash of disappointment.

Though I can truthfully say I don’t want them on. They hurt. Too much.

They pull at me though.

I love these clamps. I love the fear they arouse in me. I love the way they can knock me to my knees with the smallest of tugs. I love that I cannot harness the agony. I love that when the toy box is opened, they are right there, the first option.

I will never beat them. I hate that.

He will make sure I never beat them. I love that.

These clamps

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Does it work?

Clamps

Spank

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Two sides

I was munching happily on some dry Captain Crunch cereal (I know I know, how childish but it’s good dammit. :) when He strolled by and snatched a handful, popping it into His mouth. I feigned indignation, scolding Him in my best mother-ly voice for stealing *MY* food.

He quirked a playful brow at me and around the mouthful of now saliva-soaked cereal He grunted an “Oh really??”

Grabbing me firmly by the hair on the back of my head, He tilted me backwards and lowered Himself to my upturned face. His lips met mine in a hard kiss. His tongue probed into my mouth and with that, He transferred the soggy cereal into my mouth. Then He stood up and grinned down at me, quite pleased with Himself.

“There.”

I wrinkled my face at Him. Spit. I hate spit. Yuck. Blech. Ugh. *gag* I stuck my tongue out and held it there, bits of cereal globbed onto it. I glared at Him.

“Eat it.” He said quietly.

I hesitated, waiting for the chuckle and the reprieve. It could happen you know! He does that all the time! I eyed Him. He eyed me back.

“Now.” Just as quietly.

So much for the reprieve.

I chewed and swallowed.

~~*~~

I was sitting in front of the computer trying to figure out where the volume controls were. He came up behind me and swatted my hand from the mouse. (It’s funny if I stop and think back about 10 years to what I would have done had anyone swatted my hand from the mouse while I was in the middle of doing something, with no words, no apology. I would have flipped! Now, it’s second nature to simply pull my hand into my lap and let Him do whatever He’s doing.)

He fixed the volume and then accessed the song folder. He then began singing this song into my ears, into my neck.

Would you dance
if I asked you to dance?
Would you run
and never look back?
Would you cry
if you saw me cry?
And would you save my soul, tonight?

Would you tremble
if I touched your lips?
Would you laugh?
Oh please tell me this.
Now would you die
for the one you loved?
Hold me in your arms, tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.

Would you swear
that you’ll always be mine?
Or would you lie?
would you run and hide?
Am I in too deep?
Have I lost my mind?
I don’t care…
You’re here tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.

Oh, I just want to hold you.
I just want to hold you.
Am I in too deep?
Have I lost my mind?
I don’t care…
You’re here tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by your forever.
You can take my breath away.

I can be your hero.
I can kiss away the pain.
And I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
You can take my breath away.

I can be your hero.

Low voiced, whispery breath, goosebumps sped down my arms as He switched from ear to ear. My nipples hardened and poked against my t-shirt. He finished with a flurry of kisses to the back of my neck, straightened up and strolled away.

I watched Him go, breathless, speechless.

~~*~~

Two very different scenarios. How He flips in the span of seconds from one to the other can leave me dizzy. Dizzy and deeply, incredibly in love.

~cunt

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Farewell pubic hair!

I wasn’t able to shave while I was away. Not just my cunt but armpits and legs as well. I’ve sort of gotten used to the hairy cunt, He hasn’t let me shave that for a month or so at least. But the fuzzy legs and armpits was downright disgusting. Definitely one of the more humiliating things I had to do was to lay there naked when I got home and let Him inspect the manly growth of hair that was covering my body. And then He took pictures. Ugh.

Then He let me shave the legs and armpits. (Thank You Master.) Talk about holy hairy bathtub drain when I got done. Blech.

He’s delighted in tugging and plucking and yanking the thatch of pubic hair between my legs. He mentioned several times that He just might make me keep it. I’d forgotten how the hair tends to get caught in the zipper of jeans. Or a stray hair will become wrapped in the elastic of your panties and be yanked out when you take a step. The way toilet paper drags on the prickly bits and falls apart, leaving tiny balls and flecks, like pubic dandruff.

Pubic hair, to me, looks dirty. I imagine that it traps and holds odors and urine drops. I can *feel* it. I had been a religious pubis baldy since my crotch was shaved during the birthing process of my firstborn, 14 years ago. Long before it was the “in” thing to do. Way before brazilian waxing was a household term, before salons offered the service. Back when the doctor who handled my next two pregnancies raised his eyebrows the first time I stripped for an internal.

It had nothing to do with the reference to pre-pubescent girls, which was a very common thought about shaved pussies back then, and everything to do with loving the clean and smooth feeling, the way masturbation or intercourse felt all slippery, how open and exposed my clit and hole was. The delighted comments I would get from a man during that first sexual encounter, when I’d drop my pants and he’d first see that hairless cunt glistening for him.

These days, it seems everone is hairless or close to it. It’s nothing special or shocking now and certainly Master is the only man to see my cunt (well, except for all of you.. lol) but I remain loyal to my smooth lips and clean mound. At least when I’m given permission to shave. ;)

The last few days I’d resigned myself to being a hairy cunt. Not by preference but by denial of shaving priveleges. It’s been with a stab of longing that I stop shaving at the top of my thighs. The shaving cream that I use on my cunt only has gathered dust atop the shower stall, the razors sit rusting in the holder. Master had become a pubic hair freak and I, the ever obedient slave, have honored that.

LOL.. how soap opera-ish. It’s true but fuck.. I still hate it. Master took more pictures this morning, of which I’m supposed to post them all -post hitachi orgasm pictures no less. After snapping the final picture, He gave a sharp tug to the mass of curls and said;

“You can shave today. You haven’t complained about it for two whole days.” Then He smiled while I squealed, clarified that I could shave ALL of it and clapped my hands.

Good bye hairy cunt! Good bye smelly pubes! I don’t even mind so much posting these nasty horrible pictures because I won’t have to post icky hairy pictures for a long time now!

It’s with pleasure that I present to you my hairy, nasty, cum-smeared, red-lipped, swollen and well used cunt as I am, right now, off to the shower. :-)

Pictures

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Don’t you run out of ideas for subject lines?

Master’s deserted me and I’m bored.

Actually, He’s playing some game with my son and His nephews and I have the gift of free time to waste. I caught up on lots of reading and now I’m here. To entertain you all with …… nothing!..lol

It’s been such a weird few weeks. We’re doing remodelling and painting, knocking down walls and ripping up floors. Generally just making a damn mess that the slave (me) gets to clean up. Master’s a hard worker and a wonderful gentleman but men just don’t know how to clean. (Don’t bash me for the stereotyping either. It’s true and you know it!) Gone for two weeks -about- and can you imagine the state the bathroom was in?..lol. Immediately upon returning home, Master pushed my head over the toilet so He could pee in my mouth and my only thought at the time was “holy christ is that a filthy toilet!” Nevermind the pee, just please don’t let my hair, face, hands, or *gag* tongue, touch the rim of that nasty thing.

He didn’t. See, He can be nice sometimes.

We’ve been busy, really really busy. And tired. Master’s taking full advantage of having a sex slave too. One of my rules is to ask Him if He’d like a blow job when we get in bed and again when we first wake up. Is it bad of me to admit that I have my fingers crossed for a “no thank you, cunt” just lately?..lol More often than not He says yes but before it’s a finished blow job we’re both horny and He’s soon pounding me into the mattress. He’s just been ruthless since I’ve gotten home. Strict and sadistic, demanding. Loving too though. No scenes, nothing major to report, just a nice steady hand. It’s wonderful.

And how long has it been since I’ve shared kitty love? He -it is a boy- has grown sooo much. He’s mean! Man, he has claws!

And the reason that my legs are aching and burning and screaming at me with every step I take isn’t because I’ve had them propped over my head and been getting fucked proper. Well, that contributed but the main reason was these five thousand steps we climbed. Fantastic view though.

Master, being the rule breaker that He is, just had to vault the fence and hike on the rocks. To give me a heart attack no doubt. :P

And about that nipple-ectomy. I feel those last pics do it no justice at all. It’s not a one time pinch and pull you know. It’s 20 or 30 minutes of hard squeezing, hard pulling. Of twisting and yanking. Pulling them out as far and as hard as He can, shaking them, pressing them together, pulling up and then down, or one up and one down, trying to wrap them around my shoulders and tie them around my back. All while I have to lay still, hands fluttering at my side, fighting every *normal* impulse to grab His hands, protect myself. I can whimper, quietly. Sometimes I have to close my eyes to the sight of my nipples being stretched so far from my body. It *looks* too painful. It looks like the flesh will rip at any moment. Other times, not seeing it is a torture in itself and I have to look, to reasurre myself that they are, in fact, still attached. When He finally finshes this particular torture, when His fingers and hands have cramped enough that He stops, my nipples remain blushed bright pink for days. So incredibly tender that the simple rubbing of my t-shirt is painful. Every move He makes to tweak one elicits a cry from me and an instinctual hunching of my shoulders as I curl inward. My nipples will scab over within a day or two, and will finally return to their brownish coloring with the shedding of said scabs. (Seriously, is there a grosser word than “scab”?) The pictures taken this morning, having them pulled as far as they were so soon after that torture, and then held there while I struggled to snap the damn pictures was awful. Anonymous commenter, you really…. really… need to appreciate that pic. :-P

It seems I had something else on my mind to ramble on about but I’ve forgotten it. No matter, it’s bedtime anyway and I’ve a blow job to give. I’ll have to ask Master if I can post the updated rule list/schedule. It’s quite daunting really. Oh and “The List”. Remember that? I found it and it’s damn scary. I’ll see if I can post that too.

Until later, sleep tight. :)

~cunt

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Ask and you shall receive

“(Anonymous) on May 27th, 2006 03:30 pm (UTC)
Glad you’re back but…

It is good to read a post. It is such a dissapointment on days you don’t post. But, please post pictures. We want to see what a double nipple-ectomy looks like.”

Because you asked so politely. And because Master saw it and His evil red eyes lit up.

(Ignore the paint smears…lol.. we’re painting the kitchen.)

Pictures

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Pride

I had the interesting experience of having to defend my life choices while I was away, without being able to explain the actual “lifestyle”. The isolation, the dependency, the total commitment, the obedience, the service.

I wasn’t very concerned with their obvious offended woman’s lib reaction. I was more interested in my own determined and proud answers. I didn’t feel the need to over-explain. I didn’t come up with excuses or reasons to soften the truth. I didn’t blush or hide or avoid.

I didn’t let them talk me down either. I am proud. I like my life. I love my Master. I consider myself to be a very lucky little cunt indeed.

It’s one thing to say or think or suspect that I would die without Master in my life. It’s quite another thing to know it and accept it as fact. Quite another thing on top of *that* to try and explain that and defend it as a rational and sane belief.

It’s scary in some aspects. Death is frightening of course. The unknown is always scary. But over and above that fear is a huge comfort. I will not have to “come back” from being His. I can sink completely into His control, I can let go of everything, everyone, and be nothing more or less than what He wants. Forever.

I was given the advice to become an empowered woman. I was also told that I am entirely too dependent on Master for my reasons for living. That I don’t see myself as a seperate entity from Him.

I was quite pleased actually, that a stranger with no knowledge of the goals of Master’s training picked up on that.

In fact, I was very pleased with myself, too pleased, and it was that pride that empowered me. I did become an empowered woman. So much so that I carried too much of that pride with me when I got home.

During some of Master’s and my conversations while I was away I had expressed some worry that He would go easy on me when I returned. For whatever reason, I had decided that He would treat me like a fragile chine doll when I got home. You know me, always worrying, right? In fact, He didn’t treat me that way at all. He stepped right in as if I’d never been gone, hot and heavy, and to be honest, my feelings were a little hurt..lol.

It was apparent to me that I *wasn’t* ready to jump right back into it. Maybe because I had spent the last two weeks intellectualizing it instead of doing it. Everything was right and proper in my head and in the words that I spoke but getting the correct emotion behind it took some work on my part. I expressed all of that to Master, how I didn’t feel ready, and He did the best thing that He could have done.

He said too bad.

Isn’t He a keeper? :-)

I am proud of being a slave. Proud to be His. By the end of my trip, the people that had worked so hard to convince me that I was wrong in my thinking had to admit that I am indeed intelligent, rational, sane and capable. I came home feeling lifted, validated. And somehow expected Him to idolize that.

Well. It only took about two days to set me straight. I’m so very thankful for Him.

And my nipples hurt. Holy fuck does He have strong fingers. Dayum. I think I almost had a double nipple-ectomy.

AND good lord have you all been busy. I need a week just to catch up! Thank you so much for the welcome backs. It’s great to be here. :)

~cunt

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Home again

I was out of town, attending to some family business. I’ve only just returned today, about 3 hours ago to be exact. I’m astounded and my heart is warmed by the comments left. Thank you all so much. To be sure, I missed you all too.

I didn’t have access, nor the time, for any online activities while I was away and I worried that everyone would give up on me, especially considering the turmoil I was in directly before the sudden and unexpected “vacation”. Again, not the vacation I had in mind.

It did serve a purpose though, the absence gave me opportunity to think and put things into perspective. I was away from Master also and I hated it for every single second we spent apart. I missed Him terribly and I’m so glad to be home and back in His arms. We’ve lots to catch up on and I hope to have some juicy details for you soon.

I was also away from my kids and I’ll be making the 10 hour drive to pick them up in the next day or so. I missed them too, bunches and bunches and it will be a hectic next few days getting things back on track here. My posts will even out again soon, as I said before, Master is not letting me off the hook. Just sometimes, life hands you a lemon, you know?

For now, I’m going to curl back up in Master’s arms and enjoy being home again.

~cunt

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Or not.

The vacation request was denied. Sort of. Master reminded me that the journal posting rules are as follows; three days a week when He is home, every day when He is out of town. He’s home this week and after today I’ll have my three in so my “vacation” can be until Monday. That’s not exactly what I meant but I’ll take what I can get. He’s also given me a writing assignment, apparently free thinking (and posting) is not what I need right now. I don’t know if it’s a one time assignment or if it will be continuous assignments but frankly, I don’t care. Right now, assigned topics and journal entries sound heavenly.

I tend to get myself in trouble when I think too much anyway.

I can’t respond to all of the individual comments right now. I appreciate them. That’s about all I can say about it.

Just to relieve any worries that things are “rocky” here, they are not. No matter what inner turmoil I may spill here, Master and I interract the same as we always do. Of course we’ve talked about that last post and while His overall response to it is an exasperated “this again??“, He patiently answers and reiterates and restates and soothes.

No matter how frustrating this can get, every time I do this, every time I lay out another ugly piece of myself, we get closer to the core.

He won’t let me quit.

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