Calling in busy

Sorry guys. Things here are incredibly busy right now. I’m hoping for it to slow down after the weekend, at least for a tiny bit, after which it’ll get even more busy/stressed than it is right now.

Don’t forget about me! *sob*  I won’t forget you!

;-)

~cunt

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A Gem

“There is only one reason anyone gets involved in BDSM in the first place — it is a great way to have kinky sex. Anyone who says otherwise is either talking a good game (in order to get kinky sex) or should consider getting help.” -Fetlife

I guess that puts me in the “consider getting help” category. ;-)

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Where’s kaya?

Here. Alive. Living what it is that I spend so much time yammering about when Master isn’t home.

Things are moving at a rapid pace and I’m just trying to go with the flow and not dig my heels in. Digging my heels in only gets me road rash anyway.

I think we might be going away for the weekend. I’m not sure yet.

I’m having a word-block. One of those times where there are too many words and not enough time to sort them out.

~cunt

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It’s Cunt Week!

Well, it’s only cunt week if you want it to be. Cunts seem to be the shared theme among bloggers this week. Everyone should show their cunt!

Cunt is an odd word for me these days. It’s my name, my Master-appointed name, and I answer to it as casually as I answer to Tess. I’m also fiercely protective of it. Master, when He’s irritated with a woman (a woman driver usually. He’s such a road rager!) will say something like “she’s such a cunt” and I get mad! I’m like hey, dude, that’s MY name. You can’t go around calling everyone a cunt. It’s mine, motherfucker. Hmmph.

Thing is though, I think the intentions He had in mind when He started calling me cunt haven’t worked quite as well as He’d hoped. It was supposed to be objectifying, derogatory, debasing. I was supposed to begin to see myself, see my purpose, as the name implied. A cunt for use and abuse.

I don’t..lol. Cunt is my pet name. Like snooks. He calls me snooks. He calls me cunt. I feel the same with both nicknames. *shrug* What do ya do?

But speaking of cunts I have a clip I’ve been supposed to post for almost two weeks now. (Oy. He’s not gonna be happy about that I’m betting. I’ll do that tonight after work.) (He’s not home yet, btw ~boo~, but He’s hoping to be home tomorrow night ~yay~)

Anyway, after the awful scene where I felt all dead inside, He set about making sure I could feel something. He attacked my cunt. Now, that’s hitting below the belt (pun optional). That’s not playing fair.

I loathe pussy pain. I hate it. I hate it so much I crave it because that’s what dumbass masochists DO. So He laid me down, spread my legs and.. made it hurt.

And I love/hated it. More love than hate considering that I’ve masturbated to the memory a billion times. Next time, I hope He’s even meaner. (oh! wait a minute. what is that? is that a.. a.. desire? Oh-em-gee!)

The zipper made me scream like a girl..lol How embarrassing.

I tried to get away but He had me locked in thumb cuffs. Who knew you could be so trapped by just your thumbs!

*sob* Owieeee.

So there you have it. My contribution to Cunt Week. Where’s yours? :D

~cunt

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If you ‘wannabe’ submissive, act like it.

This thread makes me sad. (you’ll need a fetlife account but you don’t have to be a member of that group to read it.)

In summary, it’s a bunch of (mostly) single gals who are looking for a dom bitching about the “wannabes” and the “trolls” who approach them on bdsm dating sites. They’re quite gleeful about this man-bashing they’re doing, seem really proud of themselves about it.

I dunno, call me crazy, but wouldn’t it behoove you in your searches for a dom if you actually acted like a submissive? And, golly, why is it wrong again for a dom to behave dominantly?

Seems like a no-win situation for a single dom. If he makes the approach too aggressively (read:in a dominant manner) then he’s a troll, and if he makes the approach too passively, he’s a wannabe poser.

Master and I met online. I was just as ‘spirited’ (cough) then as I am now. I was also submissive. I can imagine if my reply to His first dominant personality quirk had been something along the lines of calling Him a name, telling Him that “submissive does not equal doormat!”, or to ‘put Him in His place’, then we’d have gone no further in our relationship than that moment.

Sometimes I suspect that some “submissives” join these sites merely for the purpose of collecting man-bashing material. So they can giggle with their subbie-sisters and hold up the *proof* of why they are still single. “See?! It’s not that nobody wants me! Just look at what I have to choose from! Look at these losers. I’m single because I haven’t found anyone worthy of me, NOT because I’m not worthy. So ha! Ha ha! I have proof! He told me to kneel. Stupid wannabe.”

I think if I were a dom in search of a submissive, I would probably give a simple order right off the bat too, purely for the purpose of weeding out the man-bashing wannabe posing as a submissive.

~cunt

Edited to add: Sadly, Fetlife itself is making me sad in it’s entirety. I’m watching the few people I respect and admire trickling out and I’m not even wondering why. I know why. I think I’m not far behind them.

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I want to be a part of it, New York, New York…

I’ve spent the last several days looking up travel/tourist information about Washington DC and New York City.

My eyes are crossed, my brain is numb and I’m more confused than when I started. So I turn to you good people. :D

Here’s what we want to do. Fly to DC, do the educational-touristy round there, and spend at least a small amount of time doing the same thing in NYC since I’ll probably never be that close to NYC again.

It’s a dream vacation. I’ve wanted to go to NYC since I was a little kid. Growing up surrounded by cornfields and pig shit led to some very romantic notions of life in the big city. I’ll never live there, but to see it even for a day would be huge.

I took one short plane ride when I was 15, but the kids have never been on a plane and I barely remember my trip, so the plane ride itself is part of the excitement. Master of course travels all the time so He’s nowhere near as excited as we are..lol In fact, I wouldn’t doubt that for Him “vacation” would mean staying home for a week. ;-)

It is not set in stone. We didn’t win the lottery and any number of things could come along to force us to cancel, or drastically reduce(cheapen) the fun. So my task is to keep it as simple, cheap and doable as possible.

We’re thinking that renting a car would be an unneeded expense. Hopefully, the public transportation system through DC and NYC is easily managed. Any thoughts on that from anyone who uses/has used it?

The cheapest method of travel (that I’ve seen so far) from DC to NYC is a bus. This bus line to be exact. Amtrak, which was my first preference, looked pretty darn pricey (upwards of $400.00). I guess my question is – given the distance between DC and NYC, is it even conceivable to try and combine the two cities into one trip? Would renting a car just for the purpose of driving ourselves to the city be more of a headache with parking and traffic than the prospect of traveling by tour bus?

As for must-sees out there, I’m thinking the Holocaust museum, the Vietnam Wall, the White House -Statue of Liberty and Central Park. Other than that, I don’t know! Oh – and the ocean. I’ve never seen an ocean. And the Empire State Building. And Ground Zero. And and and…

So any travel tips for a small-town farmgirl heading to the Big City? :D

~cunt

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“If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again.”

On the long and boring drive to retrieve my children from Granny’s house today I gave lots of thought to the comments given to my expectation/desire dilemma of the past week. I cannot reply to each comment individually, but many of you were saying much the same thing so I think I can reply appropriately to each message in this post.

First, I seriously considered the depression comments. Believe me when I say that I do not see the need for medication, or therapy, as a weakness or as anything to be ashamed of so I’d not dismiss the possibility of depression for those reasons. However, I have come to the conclusion that I am not suffering from any sort of clinical depression, at least not of the variety that might warrant treatment.

I think it *is* a depressing situation, and it’s certainly not anything that causes me happy-happy-joy-joy feelings. But in my every day doings, and how I cope each day, I’m quite content and happy, pleasant and capable. I do not exhibit other signs of depression. My “problem” is completely limited to that one specific thing and has not (yet) affected other areas. Having said that, I think it may have the potential to become something that bleeds over into other areas, therefore, due to your comments, it is something Master and I will keep a watchful eye on.

The next common suggestion was communication. What can I say about this. It’s not anything I can argue with as being “bad” advice. It’s kinda like snatching a marothon runner up at the finish line and advising them to “breathe! You just gotta breathe!”. Totally inarguable as something vital – yet also really, really obvious and inane and a tad insulting.

I really do hate to say that I was insulted by advice that I’m sure was not meant to be insulting, it’s just that I had hoped that I’d put forth the impression that I was able to think of breathing on my own without being told to, you know?

Here’s another thing about communication. There can come a time when communication becomes excessive to the point of being a hindrance rather than an aid. There was a time when I needed, and Master required, that I spill every thought, where I was open and honest and transparent, where He needed to know me in order to control me. We’re just not there anymore. He knows me, and He knows enough about me, that my continued blatherings are as interesting as Seinfeld reruns.

I know that I no longer need to repeat old information to Him like a broken record, just as well as I know that He needs to hear the new information because He’s not a mind reader. I gave up the “well if you loved me enough, you’d know what was wrong!” game a long time ago.

Wants vs. Needs was next. Now there’s an endless debate, eh? Master decided on my needs long ago. I have four basic needs – air, food, water, shelter. Everything else is a want. I may think my want is a need because I long for it with every cell in my body, but that longing does not magically transform it into a need. There may be wants that make me a better person, a person easier to live with or better able to serve, but again, that only gets to be a need if Master *needs* me to be that person. He can, and does, change what He *needs* from me on a daily basis, thereby adjusting the catering to my *wants*.

Whether or not He comes to the conclusion that I *need* something else, or something more, from Him in order to maintain my purpose in His life remains to be seen. I’m not approaching this problem of mine from the postion that He *needs* to fix it. Because it wasn’t a problem that HE identified (which would have acknowledged that it’s a problem for *Him*) my approach, and my question to you all here was what can *I* do, or what have you all done, to cope with this.

Expectations and Disappointment. Align my desires with His, lose the expectations, and voila! no more disappointment. Sage advice really, if that’s what I was trying to do. I guess I wasn’t able to clarify that that’s what I had already done, which, in essence, is the “new” problem.

Oh I admit this was a huge issue for me once upon a time. I had my expectations, mostly unrealistic I might add. I came into this with some hugely fantastical ideas of what it should be like, of how He would act and how I would act and how life would be. And I was sorely disappointed when reality kicked my ass. It was a job to pull my head out of the clouds and align myself with Him. It was a job to not be as annoying as a chihauhau on crack, bouncing and yapping around His ankles, going “play with me! play with me! PLAY WITH ME! yap yap yap!” It was a job to learn to not be devastated when play was put aside in favor of sleep, food and paychecks.

But I did it, see. I stopped expecting and I stopped being disappointed. I rolled with the punches (pun optional). If whatever happened, then – whatever happened happened. Or didn’t happen. I did my stuff, my service stuff as He wanted, without constantly thinking about what I would get out of it or when I would “get paid”, accepting, finally, that I’m not going to get paid, it’s not about what *I* get out of it, and either way, I still have to do what I do. His expectations didn’t change, mine had to.

There’s no build up of resentment. There may have been early on but that proved pretty quickly to be a useless waste of energy.

So when I read the comments advising me to align my desires and drop my expectations all I could think was I did! I have. Mission accomplished. And as a result of doing that – now I have this. This.. apathy… and what do I do about *that*.

Walk away. Leave. Do it or don’t do it (but ‘shut the fuck about it’ seemed to be the rest of the message). I despise this as advice. Seriously. Not everyone is looking for a way out, nor should giving up be encouraged so readily. There are instances where “get out” is appropriate immediate advice, but I am not one of them nor do I think I’ve ever given the impression that I need that. And honestly, how discouraging is it to hear that the only “fix” for your situation is to abandon it? Or that it’s not okay to whine about it (if I am whining and I’m not decided that I am yet) without someone dooming a relationship to failure. Besides, unless you’ve only just started reading me today, you should already know this – leaving is not an option. Period.

I’m more than willing to have the whole “can I or can’t I leave” discussion if anyone is interested, but for now let’s just scratch that off as an option. So since it’s not an option, what I’d really like to do is find a way to deal with this *within* the confines of the relationship.

Which leads me to “harden the fuck up and deal”. That’s really not bad advice. That’s also what I’ve been doing for months. I’m ‘dealing’. I’ll continue to ‘deal’ because, thus far, there is nothing more I CAN do. I thought I could talk about it and maybe find something more attractive than “harden the fuck up and deal”, something more pleasant – but maybe there isn’t anything.

I am still deeply considering the accepting of the acceptance, which ties neatly into being Master’s puppet. There is truth in that if He wanted me to return to that eager, greedy, yapping painslut who begged for it, He knows how to create that again, just as He knows how to shut it(me) off. Perhaps He needs to do His own experiments with me, creating and destroying multiple times in multiple ways before He can decide which of me better suits His needs. Maybe I suit Him now, as is, and indefinitely shelving what I once was will continue on. Maybe beating me while I hang there, impassive and detached, excites Him. Beating me until the pain trumps the apathy; a moment of triumph not quite equalled when I’m otherwise so willing.

If He were here, He’d pop me in the mouth and tell me to stop fucking analyzing everything to death.

Now there’s some sound advice that I should take.

G’night

~cunt

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“My passions are all gathered together like fingers that make a fist.”

Master must think I have go-go-gadget arms or something. Srsly, who can do this??

I tried.

But darn these limited joints of mine!

The sad thing was that I so heartily threw myself into cleaning to earn that orgasm (and the house is shiny I might add *beams*) that I cleaned until about 8pm, at which point I was so bloody tired I didn’t care if I came or not..lol

I vibed for a little while but kept getting distracted by worrying over the homemade laundry soap (which is working fine and it’s certainly a money saver, but the website clearly stated that it would be a gel-ish goop and what I have is cloudy water. So I’m obsessing over what I did wrong. Anyway… ) then I watched porn for a little while, but I was only getting irritated at how they are “doing it wrong!” so finally I just got-r-done, as Larry would say. I did come, though, I mean shoot, I’m not going to waste it or anything.

In other news, my butt itches. I know I know, that’s probably more about kaya than you wanted to know but that is kinda the “theme” of my journal here isn’t it? I should change the name from ‘Under His Hand’ to ‘TMI About Kaya’s Privates’.

I walked around at work today shoving my hands down the seat of my pants every time I could sneak off into a hidden corner or doing The Twist in my chair claiming I had taken up chair dancing as a new exercise.

But WHY does my butt itch? Surely no one will sleep tonight if they don’t get the answer to that question. I know I won’t sleep tonight (because I’m too busy scratching, but that’s not the point). Well. I shall not share that sort of private info out here in the open. Me and my itchy-butt-secrets are jumping behind a cut.

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Any movie buffs out there?

I’ve been trying to find a movie that I saw a million years ago.

I *think* it had Alec Baldwin and Michelle Pfeiffer in it. Though I could be so wrong on both of those actors. And I think Michelle Pfeiffer played a dual role, playing her own twin who was in prison and they did an escape/switch so the one could kill Alec Baldwin.

I think there was one scene where Alec Baldwin was on his way home in the middle of the night and had called home with a very precise list of what he wanted her to have cooked, what she should be wearing, etc. And I seem to recall a rather steamy bathroom/sex scene where she did a little strip tease.

Sound familiar to anyone?

EDIT::::

It might be Final Analysis. It could be that I’m remembering two different movies and am mixing the two plots together, too. The abusive husband angle fits for sure, as does the lighthouse scene that seems vaguely familiar. But I am positive, for sure positive, about the woman playing dual roles and switching places with her “twin” in prison. The point of that, if I’m not mistaken, was so the murder would be gotten away with. (How could the twin do it when she was locked up kinda plan) I *think* the husband didnt know the twin existed. Or something. I don’t think Basinger and Thurman look enough alike to have played the twins that I wouldn’t remember it being two different woman in the role.

I sure can’t find it though. I’ll have to pick up a copy of Final Analysis to see how much that fits and where I’m mixing up plots. What makes the movie stick out in my mind was the clear domination/submission role between the husband and wife. Especially the scene where he called home and gave that precise list to her.

Bah.

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A change of scenery does wonders.

How’s that for a change of scenery? *snicker* Sometimes it’s just too damn difficult to work a photo into a post. But Master wants the picture, so Master has the picture. Ta-fucking-da.

Before Master left, I told Him that we can’t blame the house being messy on the kids anymore. They’ve been gone for a week and a half and the house is a disaster. Considering that He and I have done nothing more than go to work so we can rush home and fondle each other’s gentalia, it’s no big surprise. Doing dishes and vacuuming just doesn’t hold the same appeal, yanno?

So as He was leaving, He told me I can’t masturbate until the house is spotless. Which just cracks me up. It sounds so much like something I say to the kids “No, you can’t play with your friends until your room is clean”, instead He’s saying “No, you can’t play with yourself until the house is clean.”

:D

It’s a motivator though! I also have a task to do today (how long has it been since I’ve had a task!?) which I can do either with or without an orgasm, makes no difference to Him, but I certainly prefer to do it with an orgasm so a’cleaning I shall go.

That’s my plan for the day. I’m done working and I’m laying aside that other topic for a bit. I’m going to sink into my June Cleaver persona, put on the apron that lovely kate sent me, and clean my messy house. In fact, I may start right here as I think there is a drip of semen on the wall to my right. (tee hee) And a dildo that needs washed. (how nasty would it be if I stuck it in the dishwasher with the dishes? Is that too much or do y’all do that, too?)

There is a big thunderstorm rolling in, I can already hear the thunder rumbling and I love wicked thunderstorms. Imma lay out the candles and unplug the comp and turn up the stereo and go clean clean clean!

~cunt

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