Perfection

You know those beautiful summer nights. Where the sky is a gorgeous shade of persian blue, no clouds around to muck it all up. Perfectly clear, perfectly clean, perfectly blue. Nothing but the glint of far off stars in perfect white sparkles.

A cool breeze blows the heat of the day away, ruffling the leaves of the trees around you. Sounding every bit like a sigh of relief, as if the trees, too, are grateful for the breeze cooling their limbs.

Across the way, the moon, full and fat, and brilliantly white, peeks just over the top of a cluster of trees. A full moon, illuminating the blue of the darkened sky. As it crests the tops of the trees, it throws a shimmering spear of light on the water, straight at you. No matter which direction you move, that shimmering arrow follows, as if the moon were pointing you out, spotlighting you, waiting for you to dance and sing and otherwise entertain the night life.

I felt like singing and dancing. Standing there, with the love of my life beside me, taking in the beautiful splendor of the world around me. Wondering what I had done to deserve such intense joy, such beauty in my life. And thinking that Karma deserves a big, ol’ kiss.

That’s about when Karma “kissed” me back. I think that Karma can be a right mean old bitch, especially when one (me) gets a little too cocky in the world. There I was, gazing out across the river, and just beginning to think that I deserved such amazing things. When something jumped up and bit me on the back of the thigh.

Hard.

Yelping loudly, I spun around, only to encounter Master standing there, wearing that open-mouthed “Uh oh” look, and holding up His fishing pole. The other end of the pole? The “business end”?

Was in my leg.

Silently extracting the hook from my leg (ow!), I calmly and politely handed it back to Him. He then had the nerve to ask me if I *liked* it.

Um. Not so much.

Tonight Karma was in the shape of a big fish who snagged Master’s line, yanked it back like a slingshot, and shot me damn near in the ass. I settled back into the business of enjoying the beautiful summer night.. without the cocky. ;)

(Well, I don’t know about karma but Master really did hook me. And the way His eyes lit up when He asked me if I liked it was downright scary. I see fish hooks in my future and not because some evil fish spit it at me.)

(Also, Master bought me an mp3 player. w00t! No more talking to the dog. No more people thinking I’m talking to the cracks on the sidewalk. No more talking to the cracks on the sidewalk! Now to load her up with some walking music. Suggestions for music to exercise by?)

~cunt

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Out and About

Wednesday evening we went to the store. To Shop-ko. It was late and so not very crowded, but I was extremely self-conscious about the collar. I made a point to watch people, to see if they were giving me those looks. You know the kind, the up and down, nose wrinkle, lean over to their friend and whisper type.

But they weren’t. There were a few second glances at my neck that I caught but no negative expression on that person’s face and nobody asked me about it.

I’m not the center of the universe after all. ;)

So I was feeling very much better about it.

Yesterday’s trip to the doctor’s office (“raging infection”, she said. Doesn’t know how the last culture came up clean. Full 7 day course of antibiotics instead of the usual 3 days.) also involved other errands. Post Office, gas station, etc. I was pretty comfortable with the necklace, though still very very aware that it was there.

Am had gone with me and while we were sitting in the doc’s waiting room, I noticed that her bracelet, a black leather cuff with silver studs on it, would match what I was wearing more than what she was wearing.

“You should let me wear your bracelet. It matches me better.” I teased.

“You should give me that necklace. It would look better on me than on you.” she retorted.

“No way. It’s mine. Why would it look better on you anyway? Is your neck prettier than mine or something?”

“Because I’m 14 and I’m supposed to wear freaky stuff like that. You just look like a sex slave.”

Now, I’m hoping that she thinks the wide-eyed, jaw-dropped look of shock I gave her was because she’d said the words “sex slave”… and not because she nailed it dead on.

She reached around to the back of my neck on the pretense of taking the collar off. “How does it come off?” she asked, obviously not feeling any latch back there.

Do you know how hard it was to say that it requires a key? That it is indeed locked on. She returned the wide-eyed, jaw-dropped look right back at me. And I thought to myself oh here we go. this is it, she’s going to put all of these “clues” together and drop a bomb on me right here in the doctor’s office.

Her open-mouth snapped up into a pout. “I want one! That is so cool!”

“Yep. And the keys can be made into cute little earrings too.” Relief. Oh.My.God. I know it’s coming, but fuck me if I am not ready for it.

So how weird would it be if I did get her a matching necklace? Her necklace matches her mother’s sex slave collar. Lordie. I am so going to hell.

After that, we kind of teased back and forth about sex slaves and collars, but while I was in the store getting the ‘script filled, I was more self-conscious about the collar than I had been before (if that’s possible). If that’s what she thinks when she sees it, then surely anyone else is thinking the same thing!

But then I had to ask myself. So what? So what if all of Wal-mart looks at me and pegs me as a sex slave. Or as any kind of slave. I am, right?

Right.

But I have changed back to the necklace. I’m not ready to be “out there” with my parents. No, not that confident yet.

~cunt

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I’ll get a post up tomorrow about my first “public exposure” with the collar but for now, Master’s chomping at the bit for me to get the pictures up and go to bed. Hopefully I’ll feel better then.

Amazing though, how a little adrenaline/endorphin rush can make you feel better. This is the best I’ve felt all day. :)

Pictures of blood and gore back here

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Bugger

Today, Uristat and the bathroom are my friends. This afternoon I’m off to the doctor again. To hell with trying to be strong and fight this on my own.

When Master said it might be from the new bullet vibe He bought me and that He might have to take it away, I about cried.

Actually I blurted out “cha-right! I don’t think so, Mister!” Because seriously, I’ll suffer the urinary consequences before I’ll hand over my vibrator.

Anyway, that’s my update today. Sometime this evening, Master’s going to re-carve the letters on my tits for Titty Torture Thursday, so I’m sure I’ll have to throw those pictures up either tonight or tomorrow morning. I’m looking forward to it. It’s been awhile, it needs done, and it’s just the amount of pain under His hand that I like.

Have a great day, everyone. :)

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Garden Porn

I was going to add these to the last entry but I ran out of time.

I’m enjoying the gardening much more than I thought I would. Since I’ve never in my life been able to keep a plant alive, I was kind of afraid of trying a vegetable garden. Especially after watching Master do the hard work of rototilling and plucking out sod. It would have killed me to have failed it. Failed Him.

But I didn’t!

I’ve been diligent about weeding and watering. And though there are mistakes being made, as first-time gardeners, we’re learning. We know now that the rows need to be spaced farther apart. We know that zuchini plants get HUGE and that other plants will vine all over. We know that we don’t eat as much lettuce as we thought we did.

Anybody have any salad recipes? I have lettuce coming out my ears!

But I can’t believe the simple joy I get out of watching food grow in my backyard. I’m excited over the tiny baby cucumbers and green tomatoes. This is a service far outside my “comfort zone” of cock sucking and ass beating that delights me in a totally different way.

Garden Porn Pictures

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General Update-ness

It was interesting (to me) as the comments were coming in from the collar post the other day, that with each comment I’d find myself agreeing with the poster. So it was a merry go round of either agreeing that yes, the collar is just fine and then turning around and agreeing that it’s very obvious and not appropriate.

And I’m still doing that. Sure enough, as someone said, Master is enjoying this internal debate, He’s not said much of anything. He just watches me, listens to me, nods.. and then watches some more. I hate it when He watches me like that. I feel like a damn stalked antelope about to be the lion’s dinner. But at the same time, I can appreciate (and am fascinated) that He does it, that He gets that expression and demeanor, and how it affects me.

If Dr. Phil would ever put an M/s couple in the Dr. Phil House, I would be glued to the tv. I’m endlessly mesmerized by the intricacies of the mental domination, the mindgames and how easily affected I (and other slaves I imagine) am by just a look or a word. Nothing huge, no outward signs of anything unusual… but it’s there.

So the verdict on the collar, once I finally convinced Am that I’m not going to give it to her (I knew she would love it and I knew she would tell me that it looks ridiculous on me but would look great on her. She also didn’t appear to make any connection between the collar and the chain on the bed either.) is this; as long as I’m wearing one of them, either the new one or the slave bell, then “it’s all good.”

It’s reminded me of something I tell the kids often (and advice I failed to apply to myself) whenever they are worried about an embarrassing event that happened at school or having to get up in class to give a speech. That is, if you knew what little amount of time other people spend actually paying attention to what you are doing, you’d stop worrying. Or, a quote that lilith posted recently that I thought was super-funny:

When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed to discover they are not it.
Bernard Bailey

I think that most people aren’t going to notice it, or will notice it but not care enough to comment on it. And, as someone pointed out, exactly how many people do I come into contact with in a day? Master and my kids can be the only humans I see for weeks on end. I’m worrying over nothing. But, on the occasion that I feel it’s going to be inappropriate (like this weekend when my parents come to visit), I’ll switch over to the bell. That saves me (us) from any awkward questions.

It was (is) just some reactance. “I know what it signifies so therefore everyone else will know too!” But that’s not true. :)

Speaking of my parents coming to visit, for the first time in a long time I’m actually looking forward to seeing them. We’ve been getting along so well lately that I think it’s going to be a nice visit. Master was possibly going to be going out of town for work and I was stressing a little over that because facing my parents alone is harder. Master gives me courage, or makes everything seem okay and right.. without Him here, it would be awkward and tense I think. BUT! His trip is postponed, thank God, so I’m looking forward to it again. We’re going to take them to a neat little Mexican place and drink Corona and eat chimichangas.

Am and B-man are going back with them to stay for a few weeks and Jes is staying here. I’m glad to have a few weeks alone with her. We need to catch up, spend some time together. Some time, mid-July, we’re going to do the Ren Faire in Bristol with the kids and my parents. They’ve never been to one and I know they’ll love it. We’ll do another kid swap then. Make sure we all get equal time with the precious children.

And speaking of precious children… it’s the usual summer complaint. There is no privacy, no time to be kinky. The dynamic doesn’t change ever, but the s&m slides. (sad face)

Those candles last night were great though. And HOT! Holy christ. I don’t know if the candles were really that hot or if it’s just been so long that my pain tolerance plummeted but I was one quietly squealing wiggling tied up little masochist last night.

We got the candles at our favorite little sex toy shop. The Lion’s Den in Oshkosh (home of OshKosh B’Gosh dontchaknow). The store has a fairly nice selection of s&m toys and bondage accessories, something that most sex toy stores don’t. It’s not the typical “slap and tickle” type toys. They have serious stuff. That’s where Master got the leather hood, that’s where a good majority of our nipple clamps came from. When we were there this last time, Master made me write out the link for the journal for the guy behind the counter and for some reason that embarrassed me to no end. Master was asking the guy if he knew of any munches or local bdsm groups… and I dunno… it just flustered me.

Anyway, usually candles from a sex toy store are pretty mild but these suckers were hot hot HOT.

Well shoot, I have to go. Master’s coming home for lunch. I have to go make myself look prettiful. :)

~cunt

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I don’t remember where I yanked this picture from. It was someone’s journal (I think). I found it tucked away in a folder and decided to toss it up.

I love the message. Far too many people that I read let this happen to them. It hurts me to see them hurting. There is nothing anyone can do or say to make it better for them, nothing but sit and watch them suffer.

I don’t think that it’s selfish to make yourself a priority. Life is too short to be anything less.

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Squeaking this one in just under the deadline. :)

In the nature of “doing” rather than “talking about doing”, I’m just going to put up the pictures. Words aren’t necessary.

Pictures under here

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I can’t wear this in public!… can I?

I knew I was getting a new collar. In fact, I’m the one who found the website (though I could not tell you when or who from. It sat bookmarked for months before I showed it to Him). We’ve been having the “collar discussion” forever. We both want something more… pronounced? More permanent than the necklace (that I shamefully broke. I’msosorryMasteragain) but also something society-acceptable, and non-wtf-is-wrong-with-my-parents-inducing. Something discreet, yet collar-like.

The more traditional leather collars with D-rings and big shiny buckles? Nah. Not for me. I’m not accepted into the dog collar crowd. For the same reason that I finally let my tongue piercing close. I’m too OLD.

The newer traditional allen wrench House of Collar things, while beautiful, are too obvious in my opinion. Though I will have one of those someday, it’s not practical for us now.

So I found this one. Discreet. Simple. Perfect. I waited (im)patiently for it to arrive. Bounced up and down while waiting for Him to put it on me. All the while singing outloud… I gotta new collarrrr.. I gotta new cah-ah-ah-llerrr. (Think Eddie Murphy and “I got Mac-donooowds!”) (Long story if you weren’t watching Eddie Murphy in the 80′s. In which case… nevermind.)

He locked it on.. and stepped back.. and didn’t really say anything. It was heavier than I expected. Felt thicker. And tighter than I prefer. But it’s my brand spanking new BDSM collar that officially makes me a slave!!

Until I looked in the mirror.

Picture here

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BDSM makes your IQ drop.

No really. It’s true. The Safety Police said so.

This post brought to you by the bloggers SpankBoss, and Bitchy Jones

I understand that people like to be “helpful” and like to feel all kinds of important and inform you of things that they think you don’t know. I get that.

One of the ones that I hear about a lot (and makes me shake my head in utter astonishment) is when I discuss being chained into bed at night, someone will *always* say something like “MY Master would *never* do that because I might roll out of bed and choke to death and DIE!!”

Well, I’m sorry you don’t wake up when you fall out of bed. I’m lucky enough to have outgrown that phenomenon when I was… oh… 4 years old or so.

I somehow doubt that I’m not going to notice being strangled in my sleep. Christ, I wake up if the cat farts.

If you sleep that heavily, and I’m sure someone does, then I’d say your bigger worry is sleeping through your house burning down around you than an insidious chain on a murder mission.

You pick up a whip and your IQ drops? What the HELL.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate advice, because of course I do. I don’t know everything. (I just pretend I do *snicker*) I’ve gotten lots of wonderful advice here. But advice.. and Kinky Kampus Kops are two different things.

I think those kinds of responses are insults, I think they are intended as insults, and I think people disguise it as “safety advice” because it sounds nicer than saying what they are really thinking. Which is “y’all are fucking freaks”.

I am terrified of the very idea of sky diving. I think people who jump out of perfectly good airplanes are stoooooopid(not bad stupid, just, you know.. scary stupid). I want to tell them so. I want to warn them of what horrible things can go wrong. I want to let them know that if their chute doesn’t open.. they will plummet to the earth and smoosh themselves into human gravy. I want to tell them that because *I* am afraid of it.

But I bet they already know all those risks. Guess they just do it anyway.

What a concept.

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