Planting the Seed.

Master is gone and I have FAR too much time on my hands so my apologies if I make no sense whatsoever.

I suspect I’m being manipulated, but Master is very good at it, and it’s very subtle and it’s just subtle enough that I’m not sure.

It all started with my favorite color. Master tells me all the time my favorite color is blue. Very matter of factly. I think I used to correct him.

Master: I bought you a new dress. It’s a blue one because I know blue is your favorite color.
me: Well I like blue but it’s not my *favorite* color. But thank you for the dress!

~~

Master: I was thinking I’d get a new area rug for the living room. What do you think about a blue one? I know blue is your favorite color.
me: Blue is nice. That would be pretty. I do like blue.

~~

me: what is my favorite color?
Master: Blue.
me: Oh. Okay.

~~

Now that’s not word for word of course. So last night, Am and I were at the store browsing through clothes. I held up a shirt, a blue one, and Am wrinkled her nose at it. “Don’t buy that one,” she said. “It’s ugly.”

“No it’s not. It’s my favorite color.”

But… my favorite color didn’t use to be blue. However, as I mentally sift through the rainbow, I cannot pinpoint what color it was. I focus on hunter green which used to be the color theme of my living room, pre-Master, so it must have been one I liked but if I were to say hunter green was my favorite color, it feels incorrect.

Red or maroon colors dominated my wardrobe once upon a time, but they don’t anymore. Blue does.

Periwinkle is a gorgeous color. I do like it, but I think I just like the word itself.

But I KNOW it was not blue. It was not. Everyone likes blue and I never do what everyone else does. It was mint green or burgundy or lilac purple or misty rose. It was not blue.

I KNOW blue is not my favorite, but I’ll be damned if I don’t gravitate toward blue-colored purchases. I’ll be damned if I’m not proclaiming that blue is my favorite color simply because he keeps telling me it is. I’m starting to believe it.

Sneaky bastard.

I think he does this all the time.

manipulate – verb
1. influence or control shrewdly or deviously

I can remember way back as a teenager going through therapy after the abuse came out. I was in the room with my doctor and my mother. The doctor had just finished giving my mom some details of the very early abuse that I had talked about. My mother was denying some of the details as being possible. The doctor finally got exasperated and said “Look lady. It doesn’t matter if YOU believe it. SHE believes it. So to her it’s very real, and she still has to deal with it as if it were real.” And I remember right then doubting my own memory for the first time. What I remembered as happening in my very early childhood remained, for me, doubtful, all the way until my own memories were confirmed by the admission of the abusers.

So I think I’m very easily led by planting seeds of doubt and replacing them with other “truths”. The more he continues to reiterate what he says happened, the more I “remember” it as he explained it. The more he leads my thoughts, confirming them as I go, the more I accept it as fact, as the way it’s always been. I find myself asking HIM things about ME all the time.

Do I like french dressing on salads, Master?
No, baby, you don’t.
Okay. What do I like?
You like ranch.
Oh.

You love these black clamps, don’t you, cunt?
Actually I think they hu-
You love them. You told me so.
I did?
Last time we used them you said they felt great. They feel good, don’t they?
Yes Sir.

(and I shit you not, anytime he tells me to go get the clamps I love I grab those black fuckers. And they really do hurt! Those are the ones that caused the bloody nipples the other day. But I grab those clamps and I think to myself “these are my favorite clamps in the whole wide world, yes indeed! they really are!”)

I used to hate fishing. I used to hate camping. I used to hate the feeling of being held down, snug against another body, suffocating in their body heat, invading my personal space.

He takes me fishing over and over again. Each time he says “you love to go fishing with me, don’t you, cunt?” until my responses switch from “Meh. It’s okay I guess” to where I am now the one to suggest that we go fishing/camping/snuggle on the couch until I can’t breathe.

I used to love romantic comedies. I used to love tear-jerking dramas like Beaches. I wouldn’t sit through a Rambo movie if you paid me. Now what do I pick out when Master suggests I go get a movie? Die Hard. Alien vs. Predator.

I dunno. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon the Great Master Secret of Manipulation and now that I know it won’t work anymore. I’ll be cast out as a traitor, untrainable, unusable.

Maybe I should go clean the house…lol

Because I love to clean. Master said so. ;-)

~cunt

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Here, there be smut.

Master kept the breast theme going this weekend. My ta-tas have had an extreme workout! Stick a fork in them, they are DONE.

I shouldn’t ought to say that, huh? He probably would stick a fork in them, mean old bastard. (Have you seen the pictures/video clips of women with those long skewers going straight through the tits??? Holy FUCK I want none of that shit. Hellooo.. crybaby-kaya over here! *waving* None of that boob-kabob (kaboob? *snicker*) stuff for me, thanks!)

I adore him. Does it show? ;-)

And then shit got serious. Seriously painful, that is.

I was trying to zen. Become one with the pain. ~Ohm~ ~Ohm~

And then he did this. Totally ruined my zen.

My nipples will never be the same! I think they’ve grown an inch this week.

Then he got *really* mean.

And I developed a ’tude… (I really wanted to zen!)

But he has badder gear.. So he wins.

“arms out…”

“I said – arms fucking OUT.”

Following the mean was a blow job… and that was fun.

*nom nom nom*

Following the blow job was a doggy style fuck with more swinging nipple clamps. Again fun. But, nipples? So much of the ow.

And following THAT was some raunchy-ass, down-and-dirty fucking. Not sex, certainly not “making love”. We fucked. And it was nasty and messy and I squirted and he did too and I came so hard I thought I peed on him. But I didn’t. I don’t think. Honestly, neither of us much cared.

Then later, we fucked again with more swinging nipple clamps, under the desk, and it was just as good. And just as ouch. Which made it better.

So.. I’m bruised. I’m sore. My holes hurt.

I’d be up for more.. but Master flew out the this morning. *sniffle* A week (hopefully no longer than that) in Oregon. Any Oregonian (Oregonite?) readers? I told him he should go to the Wet Spot. I hear that’s the happening place in those parts.

I think my poor boobs need a week off to heal anyway.

~cunt

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“Who’s to say that love needs to be soft and gentle?”

"No woman truly knows what she is, until she has worn a collar."

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Anticipation, Anticipa-a-a-tion!

There are wicked plans in the works. In a couple of hours the house will be kid free, we’ve napped, there’s a closet full of toys and I’m about to go get “slutty”.

Fear and desire make for an intoxicating cocktail.

~cunt

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Slippery When Wet

The Master’s biggest frustration? A nipple so slick with blood that the clamp won’t stay on.

The cunt’s biggest frustration? A pussy so slick with greed that the vibe won’t stay in.

But never fear! Turns out they make clamps that don’t slip – no-how, no-way.

I did not, however, manage to dry up long enough to keep the vibe in. :-(

Life just ain’t fair.

~cunt

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Since we’re on the topic of breasts…

Aren’t these just absolutely the sexiest pair you’ve ever seen?

Those nipples are amazing!

From Hogtied, of course!

The breast theme is continuing… stay tuned!

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Coincidence? I think not!

It was only a few days ago that I was explaining the "bed of nails" theory to Dan and Bethie in regards to mass amounts of clothespins. For anyone who doesn’t know, the theory is that using a lot of clothespins actually hurts *less* than using just one or two because the pain spreads and evens out over a larger area.

While the theory does hold true in my experience, the "mass amount" of clothespins is somewhere in the neighborhood of ten or twenty.

I rather impishly advised Bethie to use a hundred clothespins. Because I’m a brat like that.

But karma is watching me like a damn hawk.

I really wasn’t even surprised to come home from work this morning to find a little love note left from him. It said:

TASK TODAY!

100 clothespins

Because I’d tempted fate, you see. Yesterday’s task? That I swear to GOD I was going to do, I swear I was. Yeah I was all pouty and I-dont-wanna and foot-stompy about it, and I joked about not doing it, but honest to Pete I had every intention of doing it. But then Fate sat up and said "Oh look! Some cocky little cunt wants to tempt Me! I’ll play." and came along and royally fucked up my day and it really didn’t get done and of course Master comes home and reads that smug little post that was really just a silly jokey thing anyway and he thinks "Oh look! My cocky little cunt wants to tempt Me! I’ll play." and instead of yesterday’s task that was as simple as "just do some clothespins" I get this:

TASK TODAY!

100 clothespins

Now, I know he doesn’t follow my tracks on the computer. Reading blogs isn’t really his thing. He’ll look at y’alls pictures! He loves the pictures (who’d a thunk?) but he doesn’t read very often. So I know he didn’t know about the conversation between Bethie and I. And I sure as hell didn’t mention it to him! You just don’t voluntarily remind a sadist that we even own 100 clothespins. (why did I think he’d forgotten what we own? Silly goose.)

So there you have it. Karma or Fate or Coincidence.

Or stupidity on my part. I am not ruling that out.

Anyway – about that bed of nails theory? It is null and void on 100 clothespins. Does. Not. Work.

Do you know how long it takes to attach 100 clothespins to yourself?…lol. And do you know how freaking hard it is to reach around them to find a place to put one that doesn’t already have one on it? And did you know that you should do the pussy first so that you aren’t jostling around two tits full of clothespins trying to reach it? I do now!

Well, at any rate, it hurt. By the time I got them all on and got around to taking the pictures my hands were shaking so bad I didn’t think I’d get any in focus. But no-fucking-way did I care either. But also, neither was I taking a chance on not doing it right and having tomorrow’s ante upped to 200.

Did I mention that it hurt?

The removal – SUCKED!!

They look like the Bride of Frankenstein’s tits! tee hee

I will not tempt fate again. I will not tell anyone else to do something I don’t want to do. I will not procrastinate the easy tasks when harder ones wait in the wings.

Ah who am I kidding… I will too! :D

~cunt

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Learn Yourself!

So I took this personality test at Learn Myself (thanks Min!). I won’t post the whole thing because I realize it’s only very interesting to myself, but some of it made me grin.

You feel strong cravings and urges that you have difficulty resisting.

You tend to prefer short-term pleasures and rewards over long-term consequences. (see Master? It’s not my fault! I was born that way! :D )

You tend not to talk much and prefer to let others control the activities of groups.

You are likely to take risks and seek thrills.

You are a moderately imaginative person who enjoys a good balance between the real world and fantasy.

You prefer familiar routines and for things to stay the same.

You like the security of tradition, but sometimes have a desire to bend the rules and challenge conventional thinking. (just yesterday I had the strongest urge to do something bad. Something naughty. Not to incur the wrath of Master, but to make a ripple, make some noise… but I didn’t. Because…

You do not enjoy confrontation, but you will stand up for yourself or push your point if you feel it is important. (unfortunately what I find important rarely matches Master’s list. Hmmph.)

You may have a sense that you are not in control of your life. (ya think?)

You find contracts, rules, and regulations overly confining. (snicker snicker snicker)

You find yourself procrastinating and show poor follow-through on tasks. Often you fail to complete tasks – even tasks that you want very much to complete. (I DO have a task that I’ve spent the morning talking myself out of! How do they know that?!!)

You often say or do the first thing that comes to mind without deliberating alternatives and the probable consequences of those alternatives. (Indeed, my mouth gets me in trouble ALL the time!)

So. I was given a task to do today that I have a strong urge NOT to do. I’m focusing entirely on the short-term pleasure of not doing it and ignoring the long-term consequences. I figure if I put it off long enough, I won’t have time to do it before I have to pick up Am for her dentist’s appt. Then my excuse can be that I *couldn’t* do it because she was home! And hope he won’t point out that she wasn’t home all morning, or that I did take her back to school in the afternoon. I am not acknowledging those alternative endings.

Hmm. There’s a lesson in here somewhere, isn’t there?

;-)

~cunt

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The Color Purple…

…inspiring sadists everywhere.

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For Whom the Bed Calls

Some days

looming astronomical orthodontist bills and family cell phone plans(which one, ffs??) and four forgotten baskets of laundry with MOM!-I-need-to-wear-this-today! and rabies shots and what-the-fuck-is-that-squeal-coming-from-the-car?? and seventy-eight-freaking-dollars for one tank of gas and a 3-day a week part-time job that is suddenly SIX days a week plus twice on Tuesday(!!) and, btw-mom? I’m-flunking-algebra and scheduled child support court cases in another state with lawyers who won’t return fucking phone calls and menstrual cycles that have me BEGGING for menopause because I’d like to rip my cramping uterus straight out through my abdomen wall and beat it against the floor

days when you wonder why in the HELL did I get out of bed today?

And then Master pops in unexpectedly, just time for a hug and a kiss and an I-love-you-cunt, puncuated with a nipple tweak and an ass slap and dang, doesn’t that just make the day better?

Well, that – and a double dose of Midol.

:D

~cunt

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