I would so lose on Fear Factor.

Why you should always turn the light on when you get up for that midnight potty break.

They scared the shit out of me!

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Endurance

The thing about this position is how torturously uncomfortable it is.

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Why don’t you call me sometime.

Take a look at me

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

I’m not late yet!

I’m going to just squeak this entry in under the wire. I just couldn’t bring myself to sit down here and post today. I mowed the lawn though. Every time I do I think it should be the last time of the season. But since it started snowing as I was mowing, I’m pretty sure this was the last time.

So.. I have someone who reads here from The Colony, Tx. Most people have probably never heard of that little city called The Colony, Tx. It’s a suburb of Dallas. The only reason I’ve heard of it is because my sister lives there. Now I’m not saying that it’s my sister logging on and reading here, just that it gave me a little jolt you know? But if it IS my sister… um, hi! *waves* and btw, I’m a slave. ;-)

I spent about two hours today going back and adding tag words to my entries after I spent about an hour searching for one entry in particular. It was then that I realized the value of tags. In that two hours I got ONE MONTH done. One month! Are you freaking kidding me! As a favor to anyone who is newly beginning their journal experience, I offer this advice. Start tagging NOW. Don’t wait a year and a half when you have 552 entries. Nobody told me this in the beginning but I will tell you. Tag tag tag.

A few days ago I was asked this question:

Could you discuss at some point the exhibitionist (you)/voyeuristic (him) aspect of your journal. Would the masochism/sadism be more muted without the former? I’m asking it in regards to you and him, not your readers.
Have you both become dependant upon this medium?
Thought it might be something you’d like to talk about. If not, that’s ok, too :)
I just sense a strong dependancy.

First, I am not an exhibitionist. I know that sounds unbelievable if you take a look at this journal but I’m really not. I do not like or want to be the center of attention. I go out of my way to NOT stand out in a crowd. I’m the one that you will find in a dark quiet corner at a party. I’m shy. Very shy. I don’t want people to look at me. If I’m in a bar or a restaurant and I have to get up and walk through people to get to the bathroom, I’ve been known to hold it until I’m in serious discomfort because if I stand up and the people around me are sitting down, they’ll all look at me.

I’m a social retard. I always have been. My nickname used to be E. F. Hutton. The slogan for E. F. Hutton was “because when E. F. Hutton talks, people listen.” and when I talked, because I was so withdrawn and so quiet, everyone would turn to me. In shock mostly, but also because if they wanted to hear my mousy voice, they had to *listen*.

I’m also not an exhibitionist in the sense of “a compulsion to exhibit the genitals in public”. I won’t even wear a low-cut top in public. The more skin I have covered the more comfortable I am. I’ve never even owned a miniskirt. I’ve never flashed anyone and I wouldn’t even do more than a peck on the lips for pda.

Until I met Master. I now own a skirt that is a tad too short for my comfort, though still not a mini by any means. But He’ll have me wear it just because it keeps me on the edge.

Master is a voyeur, no doubt about that. He *loves* to observe. I wouldn’t say He does it secretly which is the definition of a voyeur because that’s too ‘peeping tom-ish’. He’s not looking in anyone’s windows or anything. But He is a people watcher when we are out, especially a female people watcher. He collects pictures of women, nude women, most especially pussy shots. He has bazillions of them and He just likes to look through them. And yes, a good portion of them are mine.

He also has a good collection of videos of women getting fucked in all sorts of scenarios. From straight vanilla sex to hardcore bdsm sex. What do you think He’s doing most of the time when I’m under the desk? He’s watching, peeking in on all these people, watching what they do, in the only safe way that a voyeur can do that these days. The internet and free porn.

About two years ago, He and I were driving somewhere in West Virginia I think. I was laying across the bench seat of the pick up truck and He had my shirt up and was playing with my boobs as He drove. We attracted some attention from the truckers, but one truck in particular was going out of his way to stay along side us. We did many many miles of letting this guy get an eyeful of my boobs. Master loved it. That was my first exposure to exhibitionism. It was exciting, thrilling. But then it got creepy..lol. The guy just wouldn’t leave even after I put my shirt back on and sat up. We ended up exiting off the highway to get away from him. That was the first and last public display.

Would the masochism/sadism be more muted without the former?

No. We had the same masochism/sadism before the journal, before He started posting pictures and we’ll have it without the journal. Our relationship and how we interact isn’t because of the journal, the journal is because of our relationship. We use the journal to enhance parts of our relationship but if there was no journal, we’d just find some other way to accomplish the same effect.

Have you both become dependent upon this medium?

I wouldn’t say we are dependent on it. We use it because it’s here and it works. If LJ suddenly disappeared tomorrow, you can rest assured we will still be doing everything that I’ve ever posted about. And more.

I understand why you sense a dependency. The journal has been exceptionally successful and because of that, He uses it to it’s full potential. And why wouldn’t He? It would be silly not to use something that works. You could say that Master’s dependent on His crop to hurt me. It works. It hurts me. But He can certainly hurt me without it too. And without the journal, He’d find some other medium that would give Him satisfactory results.

So if I’m not an exhibitionist, why is it that I post 1,000 pictures of my anatomy on here? Simple. Because He tells me to. And the minute He tells me to stop, I will. And be damn grateful too.

Master has me post the pictures because it humiliates me. I’m a masochist. I like to be humiliated. There is very little that humiliates me *privately* between Him and I anymore. But putting it out here, in public?? That’s a ten on the humiliation scale.

There are things that He used to have me do that were humiliating. But what I started to realize was that when He tells me to do something, like lick the toilet or suck His sperm off the floor, I have to obey. I’m only doing what He tells me to do and why would I be humiliated by obeying? So those things, while still serving a purpose of giving Him avenues to demonstrate His power and control over me, ceased being humiliating.

The pictures have never ceased being humiliating. Yes I am still obeying and that lessens me being totally crushed by it. I can ‘hide’ behind the facts that I have to post them. But it’s now public. It’s “out there” for anyone to see. For anyone to comment on, to copy and save, to do whatever they want with. According to the stat counters that I have (which I’m not entirely sure of the accuracy of because LJ doesn’t cater well to stat counters), I’m getting between 2 and 5 thousand hits a day. That’s a lot of people to be looking at my cunt. Thats a *whole* lot of people to be looking at my cunt. That’s like… if I think about it too long, I begin doubting my ability to maintain this journal in that capacity. The very minute He excuses me from posting pictures I am all over that shit!

Except…. I’m a masochist. And I like humiliation. So.. this works.

There are some pictures that have never been posted. Some pictures that have sent me down on my knees with genuine tears in my eyes begging Him to please please please don’t make me post them. He delights in taking those pictures. He delights in having me beg not to post them. And because those kinds of pictures exist, when it comes time to post the mild ones, I don’t complain. All He has to say is “well if you don’t want to post these, you could always post the other ones.” I’ve posted one or two of those kind. I don’t like it.

If we didn’t have the journal for this public picture posting humiliation “fun”, I’m sure He’d find another way to do it. He’d probably start a private mailing list or something. With the way the laws are squeezing porn off the internet, it’s a real possibility that this forum won’t exist much longer anyway.

I hope that answers your questions. It’s bedtime for me.

~cunt

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Though I think my sugarplum and I share the same readers, if you haven’t already read this, please do.

Mother’s Lament

Anyone who supports gay rights needs to read it.

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

To forget one’s purpose is the commonest form of stupidity. –Friedrich Nietzsche

just_his_girl asked to see how things go under the desk.

The desk

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Back so soon?

So everything in that last post worked out amazingly well because Master just called and halfway through His flight they fixed the problem and don’t need Him. He got as far as Dallas and is now on His way home.

He’ll be here about 4pm. Which is about 4 hours earlier than He’s usually home on a Friday.

To go from thinking I may not see Him at all for another week to knowing He’ll be home in just a few hours! Yay me!

Course now I have to get busy and get the hell off LJ.

That cold that I had earlier this week that I thought I kicked with my awesome immune system is back with a vengeance. It never left! It only retreated to gather forces so it could wage Mucous War III in my sinus cavities. That’s always attractive to come home to isn’t it? My nose is completely stuffed yet dripping like a leaky faucet (explain how it does both at once huh?) and rudolph-red to boot, complete with tiny scabs forming at the corners. Oh so pretty. My eyes are puffy, bloodshot and as leaky as my nose. I’m walking around open-mouthed and slack-jawed because if I close my mouth I think I’m suffocating. My ears are plugged so “huh?” has become my response to every little sound I think I hear.

I look like the village idiot with a hangover. And sound like him too.

Add in my frequent sneezing which sends me backing my ass up to the wall so the plug stays put and I am one pretty damn picture, let me tell you.

:D

Now I have to go write the first sentence of the definition of “forgot” 100 times because I forgot(obviously) to do something He told me to do this week.

“to cease or fail to remember; be unable to recall”

It’s only a miracle that I remembered that I had to have this done before He gets home. I wonder what the consequences for that would have been.

“But Master! I forgot that I forgot and forgot that I was being punished for forgetting!” Grr.

I have lots of thoughts in my dinky little brain about that voyeur/exhibitionist question and I may be back yet today to lay them out. We’ll see how I am on time first.

But since I *may* not be back and it is Freaky Friday, my task for today is nothing painful to my body. Only painful to my eyes. Well, it was painful to my body at the time! Now, it’s a lesson in humiliation. I don’t like posting pictures of my face and I especially don’t like posting pictures where I’m making ugly faces.

But it’s not about me, is it?

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Master is not coming home tonight. Maybe tomorrow night or Sunday morning. And maybe He’ll be stuck in New Mexico for a month. At least I think He went to New Mexico. I’m actually not 100% sure of that.

I hate the impromptu travel aspect of His job. I can deal better with planned in advance trips but these 6 hour notice ones suck. It makes the fact that we are not well organized rise up and slap us in the face.

Master called me yesterday at about 4pm and tells me He might be getting sent out. Almost immediately, He’s starting to stress. At that point, I’ve got to be the calm one. I’ve got to just soak up the information, do what He says -and no more or less than exactly what He says- and wait. Because it’ll be several more phone calls before plans are finalized.

By the end of the plans, He’s completely irritated with the process of the whole thing. He hates the lack of notice too because that puts Him in a bind as well. And the thing is, it’s not like we don’t know this happens. We should be much better prepared for this.

All of His travel stuff is here because the company is supposed to make His flight plans out of this airport. But since they are in the Big City, they routinely “forget” that and set everything up through the Big City airport.

I don’t have a car. Yet anyway. The last time the car broke down, it just wasn’t worth the money to fix it. It’s not been replaced yet because 99% of the time, I don’t need a car. We do the errands on the weekend when He’s home and if He’s going to be gone for an extended period of time, I have the truck while He’s gone. But here’s the 1% of the time when it would be convenient for me to have a car here so I could take His stuff to Him.

He calls me with the final plans, completely pissed off about the goof up in airports and in a crap-ass mood. He’s ranting and raving about how He’s going to have to drive 2 1/2 hours home to get His stuff, at 8pm last night, then get up at 2am so I can make the 2 1/2 hour drive back to the airport to drop Him off for His 6am flight. That way I have the truck in case He’s out longer than the 2 days they say He’ll be out. Then I’d have to drive all the way back there to pick Him up and He’d have to drive me home and turn around and drive back. That’s like umpteen hours and god knows how many tanks of gas for one two day trip.

I have to swallow what it is that I want and make it easier for Him. I have to soothe Him if I can. I propose that He just go buy whatever He needs. Whatever would be spent on all that gas would probably more than pay for what He needs, even if it is silly to buy things that He already has. Stay there in the city, go to the airport in the morning after a good night’s sleep and leave the truck in the airport parking lot.

It’s not easy for me to say that. I *want* Him to come home, even if it is only for a night. In the back of my mind is a looping whine of “but what about me?” I’m also quickly mentally going through the cupboards, considering that He may not be home this weekend and wondering just what am I going to run out of. How well can the kids and I get by for another week. How am I on dog food and cat food. There’s also other things, other errands that needed to be done this weekend.

If He ends up being out of town for a couple of weeks, I’m screwed on groceries and pet food. The gas station that’s within walking distance only carries so much. It could be really inconvenient for me to go that long without transportation. So I’m biting back the retort of “well if You would have gotten me a car by now we wouldn’t be having this stress, even IF the car would be sitting in the driveway most of the time!”

I’m biting back the urge to whine and complain about possibly not seeing Him at all when I’d gotten myself all excited about the plans made for the weekend. I can’t say any of that. My job is to soothe and make His life easier. Not make my life easier.

I suggest what’s easiest for Him to do. I don’t mention how that affects me. He already knows how it affects me. And I know that if there was something that I needed, He’d make sure I had a way to get it. His family would take me anywhere in a heartbeat. That’s not my preference and I’d avoid it as long as I could.. but it is a possibility. And it’s something that I’d be willing to do if it means His life is a little easier.

He’d come home if I wanted Him to. He’d miss out on the sleep and make the drive and put up with the hassle if I insisted on it. And trust me, it was a battle of wills to not insist on it. I’m a selfish girl! I like having Him home. I like sex. I like sleeping with Him. It took a lot of tongue-biting to say “No, Master. Stay there. Go buy the luggage. I’ll be fine here.”

It’s immediate, the lightening of His spirit. His mood improves. I’ve reduced His stress by about a million points. He knows that He should come home. He knows what He’s possibly setting me up for. And He knows it’s His responsibility to take care of that stuff. To have me relieve Him of that is a blessing.

And too, I struggle with a little bit of doubt. Most of the time, I’m fine and accepting of His decisions. He doesn’t want me to work. Okay. He hasn’t yet decided that I should have a car or that I need a car. Okay. He decides on the money and the finances. Okay. Then something like this comes along and I start comparing what my decisions would have been. I start thinking that if I Were In Charge, we’d not be in a bind like this. I’d have a job. And a car. I’d have made sure that “this” wasn’t a source of stress.

I forget for a moment that “this” only happens in exactly this manner once or twice a year. The majority of the time, His decisions work out wonderfully. Why is it that an occasional wrench in the gears can set me off on a major doubting spree that begins to encompass our entire lifestyle?

I’m actually quite proud of myself for pushing down what I want and suggesting that He take the easy way. I could have insisted on my way and given myself some peace of mind but I put His peace of mind on top. And if the trip is only two days, He’ll be here and everything will be fine. If He ends up being gone longer than that, He’ll make sure I’m taken care of. I have faith in that.

And I’m recognizing the pattern of doubt that’s creeping in and working to quell it. I can’t question every decision He’s made just because this one time isn’t working out perfectly. Trust and faith. I have them. Now is the time to put them into motion.

But maybe now He’ll buy me a car..lol

~cunt

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

“You know the worst thing about oral sex?”

“The view.”
-Maureen Lipman

You be the judge

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike

Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?

Is anyone else having trouble with the backdate thing on LJ? Mine is trying to tell me I have to backdate entries which appears to be buggering up the order they’re showing up in.

Be the first to like.

Like

Unlike