“One should never underestimate the profound resiliency of the human spirit, nor how swiftly things can change for the better – often overnight.”

Spring is in the air.

Not necessarily Mother Nature’s spring (though it is warming up considerably) but spring is in the air in our relationship. In Master’s eyes, his step, his attitude. There’s been a rejuvenation of his spirit- and by extension, my spirit as well.

All it took to create this magical miracle of high-flying wonder? One solid spanking and some hella good sex.

So simple. So fucking easy. It’s like we’ve been swimming in mud without realizing it until we slid into clear sparkling water. Suddenly, we’re light and airy- and sore, at least I am- but light and airy nonetheless.

Not even Jes’s foul mood yesterday is going to spoil this high. It’s been too long in coming and I’m going to enjoy it, dammit.

We were little social butterflies this weekend, going out to meet people all three nights. Not just any people, D/s people. People who light a spark merely by their open acceptance.

Friday night we met a couple for dinner whom we’d been emailing with for a few months or so, and we had a great time. There was nothing overtly kinky going on, we were all dressed and sitting in public like “normal” folks- well, nothing overt unless you count his hand under the table, giving my leg a painful squeeze and his stern order to “Stop wiggling. It’s irritating.” A sneaky snatch ‘n’ tug of my ear when he caught wind of us girls, giggling over hiding toys. Or the non-assuming way he handed me his mug, a mug full of that dark, deeply bitter beer that he loves so much and that I find to be disgusting, quietly telling me to take a nice, big taste just because he knows how much I hate it.

Nothing overt, though probably a waiter passing too close may have been taken aback at the conversation subjects. ;-)

Saturday we went to the munch and that is beginning to feel very comfortable as we become more familiar with the faces and names. I’ve seen quite a few of them naked now, and they’ve seen me, so, really, what’s left to be shy about?? We talk and laugh and surreptitiously grope each other when the wait staff leaves the room.

We’d had tentative plans to play after the munch but we talked too long and it got late and everyone was tired so it was decided we’d play the next night.

So! Sunday night we went over to another couple’s house and they had cooked us dinner and let us use a room for some spanking. I was afraid it would be awkward, you know, like, hi, how are ya, mind if we come over so’s I can beat my woman? But it wasn’t, not at all. They are just the coolest, down to earth bdsm couple and it was really neat to hear them playing, too, as we were.

I got a good spanking. It wasn’t a terribly hard scene, no blood ‘n’ guts, no tears (though I came close) – just lots of focused attention to my butt and then we got really super horny and we fucked right then and there. At their house. While they fucked in the next room. For a little while, I think she and I were having simultaneous ‘gasms, judging from the corresponding moans. ;)

I have to say that we don’t typically feel comfortable enough to ask to borrow a bed, nor are we horny enough that we can’t wait to get home. Like a couple of horny teenagers we were!

Honestly, having like-minded folk around to spark these thoughts and feelings has been priceless. We needed this so. bad.

And again, it happened that I had very little desire for it (the pain and spanking, etc.) right up until it started. Once the blows started coming, my desire started coming. So maybe it isn’t that I’m losing my masochism, but that I really am getting a handle on harnessing it, controlling it. Could it be? Dare I hope?

Yesterday, Master made the comment that he feels it coming back- feels the energy, the exchange, the juju and the mojo.

So if it is true that spanking is destroying feminism? All y’all ladies are screwed, cuz, Imma get me some more ASAP. Sorry y’all. :D

I dunno what this toy is called but it sucks ASS.

You just can’t go wrong with a flogger. Except for when it wraps cuz that really sucks, don’t it?

“Just checkin’.”

His hands just might be my favorite “toy” of all. :)

He didn’t want any part of me to feel left out, considerate man that he is!

So, there you have it. Spanking as a cure-all. Seems like we’ve only had to learn this lesson about 50 times.

There’s a clip up at the clip store.

~cunt

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“Sex is like snow, you never know how many inches you’re going to get or how long it will last”

Sent to me by a fellow Yooperean.

They weren’t fucking kiddin’ when they said it snowed up here.

Have I mentioned that I am so done with winter? Yesterday I wore sandals. I thought maybe I could force spring to come if it caught sight of my pink painted bare toes!

Instead I fell through the ice on a puddle and my pink toes froze.

Ah well. I got my ass warmed up pretty well. (teaser post!)

And speaking of sex… (more tease)

I’ll share the details later.

(tee hee)

~cunt

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More Q&A

you had mentioned that you had once had your nipples pierced i think…when and why did you change your mind and take them out?

I had them pierced probably 6 years ago. I had them just about 6 months I guess. I took them out because I like nipple play too much and they were fucking it all up. They were too sensitive after the piercings – and it took close to a year *after* taking out the rings for that sensitivity to go away and for me to be able to handle clamps and pinching again.

How much do the kids know of your and your Masters activities?

Kids are a popular topic when it comes to M/s. My goodness.

They know I generally defer to his decisions. They know I wait on him hand and foot. They know he’s bossy and demanding and that I’m happy to do it. They know that I have and use sex toys and they know that we’re “kinky”. They do not see, hear (much), or know any specific details about that kink. They do not know that it’s a formal Master/slave thing.

If they don’t know, how do you hide the obvious results?

Any marks I get are in places that clothing easily covers. The occasion “oops” mark can be easily dismissed because I really am a klutz.

If they do know are they ever involved?

Um. No. A big fat N-O no. No no no no no.

I have a question: where is Magdala? She used to comment often, and I think she is a great friend of yours, right? I am usually a little annoyed by the number of comments of the kind: “my master does the same!” or “you must live in my house!” I really mean no offense, it’s just that they sound natural when girls are talking, but in writing it’s just repetitive and makes it hard to sort through the comments to find the ones that are really offering some thought material. Magdala often commented something different from that.

That’s a good question! I think she might come around here sometimes; at least, I heard from her a few months ago. I guess, you know, people grow apart or move on and she’s busy doing her thing.

I miss her, too. She always did offer another perspective.

I have another question: Do you think that at least part of your attraction to degradation and forced sex may be related to you not thinking that you deserve pleasure, or don’t deserve that someone pleasure you for your own sake? I think that your recent vanilla-ish lifestyle, in which you are surprisingly satisfied could have to do with you accepting a little more that you deserve some things for yourself.

Meh. I don’t think so because I DO think I deserve pleasure. It just so happens that I find a lot of pleasure in being degraded.

As for also finding pleasure in our more recent vanilla-ish lifestyle, it could be what you said, or it could be that I’m just better at adjusting to what he’s giving me and in finding my own happiness in it, whether it’s kink or not.

What are your plans after all your children have moved out? Is the “cunt in the cage”-plan still your future goal, or has it changed in some way?

I think it has probably changed some, but the basics of it are still the same. Um.. speaking soley out of what I think I know and understanding that Master could come along and contradict everything I’m saying here… I think we will probably have a pretty good mix of cunt in a cage and housewife-gardener-chicken farmer slave. He definitely is still looking forward to and planning on some serious isolation/caging/thorough head-messing fun, but when he doesn’t want that and he wants me to function as his workmate and wife, I’ll be expected to pull myself up by my bootstraps and work it out.

Or.. not. As we keep growing and evolving, who the hell KNOWS what might happen.

If you were to author a book about your life, what would it be entitled?

Tess’s Tale – Relearning Life Master’s Way. A consensual bdsm slave’s true story.

How Tess Got Her Groove On

Tess: Destroying Feminism One Spanking At A Time

“Yer doing it wrong!” – How NOT To Do BDSM (according to the interwebz.)

Kinky Kooking with Kaya or Kinky Krafting with Kaya

Kaya in Wonderland: Finding Pleasure in Pain.

Great Expectations: Learning to Let Go of Them

Sense and Sensibility- in Slavery

The Secret Garden: Gardening Naked- and how best to avoid mosquito bites on your most private bits.

Would you buy it? ;-)

What is the most severe injury you have ever experienced during a session/scene moment with Sir?

I almost passed out once, purely from the pain. I was strung up by my wrists and he was doing his thing – and it was just too much. I got cold and sweaty and clammy, I started dry-heaving, I lost all muscle control and couldn’t stand up and things we getting very dark and very fuzzy- I was fainting. He got me down and sat with me with my head between my knees and then put me to bed.

I had a hematoma on my breast from a particularly wicked breast beating session. There’s been the occasional strained muscle or numb, tingly appendage for a few days – but no really serious injuries.

What is the most severe injury you’ve done to yourself by accident? (lol- my answer would creep the hell out of everyone who reads it…)

Tease. What is yours?!

I don’t think I have any. I’m fairly gentle with myself..lol

And why aren’t our Owner’s talking?

(about sharing, right? seems like I lost half of your question.)

Master has never shared me sexually with another man. He would with a woman without batting an eye, but another man is whole different ballgame.

He does let other men play with/hurt me though.

He’s protective, which I really appreciate, because the second another man’s hands are on me, I lose my words.

I am quite positive that he would LOVE to talk to your Owner – and I sincerely think you need to plan a trip here ASAP. Your Owner scares the fucking shit out of me, but I would love to give your deeply masochistic ass to my Owner. And, I’d like to watch you get fucked in the ass. *nods*

What are 3 things that turn you on that are humliating to admit?

Being used as a toilet. I hate it and it turns me right the fuck on.

Icky-yucky tasting/licking of dirty things. Makes me vomit, but turns me right the fuck on.

And- some of his future plans which, unfortunately, I am not allowed to divulge here. I’m horrified, yet, you guessed it, turned right the fuck on.

What was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do and what lessons did you learn from it?

Sitting down in front of that board when he held a hammer and nails in his hands.

I was anticipating that the pain would be enormous. I fully expected it to be way more than I could handle. Other than attaching my hands behind my back, there was no other bondage, no securing me in place. He told me to sit and put my tits up on the board and to be still.

I’d never been that scared before and I haven’t been that scared since.

Lesson learned: He knows what I can take more than I do. I would easily let fear be my master– He masters my fears.

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Ugh.

Personally? I don’t think I should have to do this anymore.

Posting pictures I mean. Who hasn’t already seen my parts a bazillion times???

Besides, I JUST got done gloating somewhere else about not having to post pictures like this lately. I swear he has some sort of psychic connection with the blogosphere – he always seems to know when I’ve gotten cocky and nails me on it. (And he doesn’t read anywhere so I know it isn’t that simple. He’s sneaky-magical is what he is. A witch.)

It’s all your fault, too. “I wanna see the hair!” Pffft. You’re all on my shit list. *nods* I’m scratching yer names off my Christmas card list! Take THAT!

Though I might forgive you by Christmas. ;-)

So this was taken after a session of “you’re just a cunt, cunt”. I always feel kind of silly and self-conscious at the time, but later? Well.. you know how it goes. Later I get so aroused I leave a slimey path behind me everywhere I go. “Where’d kaya go? Oh hey! Follow the snail trail. There she is!”

What can I say? I’m a terribly belated masochist.

What I had to do was take off my pants and lay on the floor, spread my legs and then spread myself wide open and then just… stay there. Still, quiet. He sat in a chair and jerked off, staring at my obscenely spread pussy until he sprayed his come all over me.

There was no touching, no interaction, no sexual release or pleasure for me. After he finished, he had me rub it all over myself, took a picture and told me to post it, forbid me from washing and walked away.

It was all very matter of fact at the time, though NOW, my pussy is singing a capella at me. “Touch meeeeeee. Rub meeeeeee. Fuck meeeeee!”

I’m like one of those super horny dogs that helplessly humps the air as it walks around the backyard. Or Family Guy’s Quagmire. Seems like he’s always humping on something. Giggidy-giggidy-goo.

Anyway. Yeah. Here you go. Slimey hairy pussy.

Remember – you asked for this!

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Q&A-Number Idontknow

What’s YOUR thoughts about becoming a grandma? Is that what you will be called, or do you have another pet-name in mind? How many weeks is she?

My thoughts are a mixed bag of positive and negative.

On the negative: Of course I wish she wasn’t doing this NOW. I’m worried about her, her future, her baby’s future. I’m not sure what kind of mother she will be because she is so incredibly immature. She also has other problems unrelated to immaturity that haven’t been addressed yet and I worry a great deal that that’s going to affect her child if she doesn’t address them.

I’m concerned about finances. Right now, we’re footing the bill for her prenatal care, we’ll have to pay for her hospital birthing bill, and we’ll be footing the bill for everything the baby needs – for who knows how long. The baby’s daddy is as worthless (so far) as my ex is. I see history repeating itself and it makes me feel like a big. fat. parenting. failure.

The money leads to resentment. To be fair, Master, who is the only source of income for the entire house, is being extremely generous concerning this whole ordeal. However, he’s feeling the strain. Of course we’re worried about the economy. I don’t think anyone should be too comfortable in thinking their employment is completely safe, you know?

In the privacy of our own room, away from little ears, he expresses to me some amount of resentment, and he’s perfectly justified in feeling that. He’s not only not Jes’s father, he’s not her baby’s father, either. It’s not fair to him– but he loves me, he loves her, too. And he’s stepping up, again, where other men won’t.

I’ve asked more than once about going back to work myself and he keeps telling me no. That’s not to say it won’t become a necessity at some point, but for now, it only seems to make him upset. He says that it’s not right that I should go back to work, that we should have to interrupt or change our life, when she’s the one who got herself knocked up. He says we’ll tough it out as long as we can and that she’ll be getting a job as soon as she is able to.

But, knowing that he’s under that kind of strain does create a little bit of resentment from me toward her. Especially because she doesn’t act appreciative *enough* of the sacrifices he’s making. I don’t know exactly what I expect her to do or say, nor am I expecting groveling or anything like that – but Jes possesses an irrational “entitlement” syndrome.

I’m also very fearful for my heart. I’m afraid to get attached to that baby because there isn’t a single piece of me that thinks Jes will stay here for any longer than she has to. And it’s going to rip me to shreds when she goes.

Because, try as I might to not do this – I am already hopelessly, head over heels in love with that baby bump. Enough so that I’m sitting here in tears as I type, just thinking about holding it, rocking it, watching its little rosebud mouth, touching its downy little head, stroking its smooth flawless baby skin. Tiny fingers, tiny toes, tiny smiles.

What’s not to love??

But loving it and then losing it? God. Pain. And not the good kind.

Covering all of that negative stuff, though? Drowning it all out (for me anyway, probably not so much for Master) is excitement. Joy. Impatience. Happiness.

I’m going to be a grandma! There’s going to be a baby – a tiny extension of my own baby. I never knew emotions like this existed and she hasn’t even had the baby yet! I am already so sucked in, so smitten with what is coming that I have to keep reminding myself to be calm. I’m already giving myself pep talks on how NOT to be a grandma.

I’m shopping for it, of course. She doesn’t know the sex yet, but she’s already got a whole pile of unisex sleepers and blankets and onesies and socks. Come summer time when rummage sales start? I’m going to be a baby shopping FOOL.

I can’t wait to see what kind of grandpa Master will be. Personally, I think he’s going to fall just as much in love as I am as soon as he sees it. Right now, he’s very much removed from the process. But that first toothless slobbery smile aimed at him? Yeah, it’ll be game over. :)

She is 24 and a half weeks along and I am perfectly fine with being called Grandma. The kids are already calling me that.

Everything will work out because it has to. Because I said so. Because there is no other option.

Baby’s coming whether we’re ready or not.

I think it’s a girl, btw. :-)

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Q&A – LaLa Land

can you tell me how you get to lala land while in pain..I try and I try..just cant seem to get there.

I wish I could tell you, I wish (for my own sake, too!) that there was a step by step process that worked for everybody, all the time. Wouldn’t that be sweet? :)

But there isn’t..lol. What works for me, doesn’t work for another. What they are doing over there? Wouldn’t work for me. What worked for me yesterday will not work for me tomorrow, but might work again next week – if I’m lucky.

It is *such* an individualized process. And it depends on so. many. things. I’ll tell you how it works for me, because maybe there are some commonalities between us that can help you find your way.

First and foremost, it depends on the level and type of energy that’s flowing between him and I. That part really has to be perfect. If there’s anything that’s off, forget it. And the smallest things can throw it off – stress, emotions, moods, feeling rushed, pms, if he’s breathing wrong…

What? I told you it had to perfect and perfect includes perfect breathing!

I think that’s why I prefer having music playing at a rather loud volume. It helps to drown out some of that interference.

Unless he catches me singing along, that is. For some reason that seems to interfere with his mojo. I guess I can see that. I mean, here he is trying to find his rhythm and I’m headbanging and screeching this:

“I am the Astro-Creep
A demolition style
Hell american freak!
Yeeeah!”

Anyway. Yeah. Music can help.

The next thing that is necessary is time. It just isn’t going to happen for me in one of those “wham bam, than you ma’am” 20 minute type playtimes. I need a good hour (at least) of consistent, uninterrupted attention. It takes time for my brain to start releasing those chemicals and for me to get on for the ride.

Which brings me to being *allowed* to get on for the ride. Something that he, more often than not, prefers me not to do. The easiest way to keep me from boarding the train to Never Never Land, is to change up the rhythm too fast, too often and too hard.

Sooo… the way to get me there is to keep it steady and slow, with a *gradual* incease in pain. (Unfortunately, Master and gradual work together like fire and water – meaning, as soon as I’m starting to smolder? He tosses cold water on me. He’s a fucker like that.)

The last thing that will help me get there is to stop. asking. me. questions.

Seriously. Just STFU with the Spanish Inquisition stuff. Don’t ask me how the weather is, don’t ask me what I want to do on Saturday night, don’t ask me what’s for dinner, don’t ask me how my hands are or if I’m having fun or what I want next. Don’t ask me *anything*.

By all means, grab my hair and hiss into my ear what a filthy disgusting pigwhore I am. Grab my face and scream, letting spittle spray over my lips and cheeks while you tell me how badly you’re going to fuck me up. Do ALL of that.

Just don’t expect me to answer. Cuz the very second I have to engage my brain to send a message to my mouth to formulate a response beyond primitive, gutteral moans and grunts? The train is gone, I’ve missed the ride, too bad, so sad.

So there’s my path to LaLa Land: Energy. Shutting off. Time. Consistency. Shutting up.

*reads over the process*

Huh.

No wonder he doesn’t let me go there very often, right? I make it sound all complicated and shit. “The moon has to align with Planet Zircon and the earth has to be tilted toward the sun and the grass has to be exactly one and three-quarter inches long on a Tuesday afternoon.”

It is complicated, though. It’s a lot of work and when he wants to play, usually he just wants to play. He doesn’t want to *work*.

So, we play how he wants to play and lala land tends to remain elusive. I’m not going to say that I don’t like getting to go bye-bye because of course I do enjoy that. But, there is another, very satisfactory emotion that follows knowing that HE is pleased and that I took it/did it exactly his way.

Subspace, or lala land, is nice, but it’s done for me, not for him. Given the choice, I’d choose doing it for him any day.

I don’t say that to try and make myself sound like the uber-altruistic-slave because it’s not like that at all.

There is a greater sense of satisfaction and purpose that comes after his kind of scene, something that just does not occur after my kind of scene. So if you look at it that way, it’s a completely selfish preference. I am not altruistic. No how no way. I get stuff out of it, it just sometimes comes in a roundabout, backwards way. :)

~cunt

ps. Further evidence of my uber slaveyness–

Last night. We’re in bed, right? I’m tired. I’m literally starting to doze. I’m naked. It’s fucking cold outside of the blankets.

THREE times he pokes me and sends me off on an errand. THREE times, he waited until I was back in bed, snuggled in and warm and right close to drifting off again.

(Okay. So. Maybe three doesn’t seem like a huge number of times now that I’m writing this today. But it FELT like a bunch last night.)

Anywho, I was getting pissed.

And then. THEN! The last time, that third time, after I’d opened my almost-asleep eyes and kind of glared at him a little bit, you know what he said? You know what he had the NERVE to say??

“Doesn’t it suck to be the slave?” and he smiled.

No. I take that back. He didn’t smile. That makes it sound way too pleasant.

He smirked, he grinned, an ear-to-ear, shit-eating grin and gave a lazy, contented sigh and snuggled down in the blankets and flapped his hand at me. Like, “shoo, you lowly-fetchmeshit-slave. You’re dismissed. La-de-da”.

I tell ya, I was boiling. Srsly, he has no idea the self-restraint I have. He sees the glaring and the way I snap the blanket off and stalk out of the room and he’s probably thinking “oh that uppity bitch! why I oughta!” but if he KNEW, if he had ANY IDEA how much I want to, like, kick him and bite the end of his nose and I DON’T? He’d be impressed with my self-control.

Right?

Well. He should be. That’s all I got to say about that!

So anyway, I fetch the shit and I deliver it, and I didn’t even spit in it or anything, and I’m climbing back in bed and I say “I’m not getting up again.”

He’s reading his book and I see him roll his eyes and he mumbles by rote, “Don’t tell me what you’re going to do.” clearly not very interested.

“I mean it!” I say, angrily punch-fluffing my pillow. “If you ask me to get up one more time, I’m taking off my collar and I’m gonna quit being your slave for the night, and we’ll just have to start over in the morning!”

He chortled and peered at me over the top of his book. “You’re gonna quit just for the night, huh?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

He snorted and went back to reading. “Go to sleep, you goofy shit.”

Dismissed again, just like that. Just as ignored as you please.

So. Lily Lloyd? That just goes to show you that sass only gets me sent to bed! Hmmph!

If sass worked to get me beat, it’d be non-stop action round here. ;)

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I was wrong! Again.

We’re not crashing. The cat just overheated the modem and it froze.

Apparently, no matter how cute and comfortable and sweet the cat looks curled all up in a tiny furry ball on the warm modem, I can’t let her sleep there.

Luckily for Master, I only needed to be told this once , twice, three times. I are teh obedient slave. *beams*

Actually, here’s a sure-fire way to tell when kink is exiting stage left:

When you read a forum where someone asks “How do you make stocks?” and you start typing “Boil the chicken carcass with some onions, celery and–” before you notice that other people are writing plans involving wooden beams and neck/wrist hole measurements?

Youuuuu might be vanilla.

Tis a sad day, my friends. A sad, sad day.

;-)

~cunt

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Coffee Break

I think our computer is crashing (it’s not working right anyway) and I don’t like to use the kids computer for my deviant website trolling-

So! I’ll probably be scarce for a little while maybe. I guess I’ll go and enjoy *cough* the fucking snow.

Yesterday there was a saucer-sized patch of earth showing in the backyard and I had a moment of springtime joy – and then it was snowing this morning.

Meh. It is what it is, I suppose.

Anyway, you all have a great week and I’ll see ya when I see ya!

~cunt

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Q&A – almost done.

Can I get another picture of Jes’ tummy?

How about two? :)

You can see the baby move when you watch her tummy now. That just creeps B-man right the fuck out. Too funny.

Do you think that your masochism may have gone because, at times, the pain or suffering was too bad? [...] (This is the background: Nowadays, I often get so afraid when we are starting to “play” that I am almost paralysed. In looking back once it is over, everything doesn´t seem so bad. But, in fact, while I still really like playing with humiliation, and softer pain, I don´t feel any arousal anymore when he uses the horrible instruments or does the feet torture, or whatever.) Do you sometimes wish you could make Scott “play softly” – which, I think, sadists can´t really do?

I do get what you’re saying when you talk about the fear prior to play, I feel that too sometimes. But I don’t think that’s why I’m currently masochism-less.

I really think that my desire matches what I’m getting. The more I get, the more I want – therefore, the less I’m getting, the less I want. When it ever comes to pass that we get back on a regular schedule of pain play, I expect my desire to match it. At least, I’m hoping so.

Are you able to eroticize the fear/hate/anger that you’re feeling during those “hard” play times when it’s over? I mean, there are times when I’m hating what he’s doing so fucking much that if he didn’t have me tied down, I think I’d be packing up and leaving. I fantasize about it in the middle of the scene. I prepare my speech I’m going to deliver him. I cry and feel sorry for myself. I get vindictive and tell him he better just fucking enjoy the shit out of what he’s doing because it’s going to be the last time he ever touches me!

And then, you know, it’s over and I’m not dead and I see that hot, primal look in his eye and he’s all chest-beating manly and I’m all sweaty-snotty submissive – and eventually, maybe right away, maybe the next day, I’m furiously masturbating to what a mean asshole he is.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Does it work that way for you or do you never find a way to eroticize that heavy pain? I would think that would make a huge difference for anyone.

what are your favorite and least favorite ways of spanking? Like positions and instruments.

My favorite position is to lie flat on the bed. Because there’s a little give and lot more padding on my ass that way..lol

Least favorite position is to be bent over. The skin stretches too tightly over bone and it hurts more. I equally hate being over his knees. I cannot get comfortable (mentally or physically) so I just can’t get into the spanking very well.

Favorite instrument: I like those leather slapper type things the best. A belt is my top choice. Crops are nice. I love the whip but I don’t know if that really qualifies as a spanking implement. I can really get into a wooden paddle if it’s not what he uses right out of the gate. Once my butt has warmed up a little and my cheeks are rocking the pain, paddles are hard enough to oomph me into lala land.

Least favorite: That blue stick, for sure. Hate that fucking thing. Canes. Anything thin, like a ruler, paint stick, whatever. I can’t say I care much for floggers either. They either don’t hurt at all or they hurt too much because they hit where they aren’t supposed to. So maybe anything that has the potential to wrap or miss it’s mark entirely keeps me too much on edge to relax and enjoy it.

my question is since you do so much cooking, do you grow any of your own spices? i am thinking of growing them in little flower pots inside so i just wondered.

I have not yet. But when we moved here, I got a housewarming gift sent to me from Kitten and it was two of those window/indoor type herb gardens. But I haven’t used it yet. I want to wait until I can put it outside on the deck. Trying to grow plants in a house with three cats who think everything in it is for their pleasure is just a bad idea. They would destroy it before it even grew an inch. So we’ll just have to do this together, huh? Get you one! Dooo eeet!

Is there any sex act that you really *hate, hate, hate* to do that Scott loves? Is there anything sex-wise that you have NOT done (besides the ones that are illegal) cause i think you have done just about all the really good ones…..(but i am sure that there is something you haven’t done).

Ass licking. *nods* Just not my favorite pasttime yanno?

I’m currently loathing the fuck out of being under the desk. I’d rather pluck my eyelashes out than go under there. I don’t know why – it comes and goes. *shrug*

I am sure there are things we haven’t done. Anal fisting comes to mind (and I don’t think we ever will. I don’t think he has any interest in becoming that intimate with my rectal canal.) Beyond that though, I can’t think of anything. I’ll need to see a list of sex things! Maybe I’ll get some ideas, too. *wink wink nudge nudge*

I’d like to know why B-man is called B-man?

Oh, in the beginning of blogging I suppose I was trying to remain anonymous and not use anybody’s name. But over the years I’ve gotten careless and I think most everybody already knows all of our names. B-man is actually what Master calls him (among other things, we’re an extremely mean-sarcastic family) so I used it here. His name is Brandon, btw.

What is your favorite time to day to blog, and why?

Early morning, usually. After I’ve fed everybody and packed lunches and helped with hair and cleaned up the kitchen and fed, watered, and pottied the pets and everyone has left the house – it’s quiet and I take my cup of coffee and sit down for a break. And I blog.

And then I have a tendency to sit here and sit here and sit here….

A bad habit I need to break. Probably I should change my blog time to later. It’s too easy to keep telling myself “oh I have time!” and then lose track of time.

What IS your favorite ice cream?

Why yes you ARE a bad reader, Chloe. ;-)

Butter Pecan. *nom nom nom*

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Q&A-5

do you ever have sadistic fantasies?

Yes and no. I fantasize about really elaborate sadistic scenarios, but I imagine myself on the receiving end. Most of them are impossible scenarios though. They defy the laws of physics and human ability.

I especially fantasize about CBT – which, wtf right? I don’t have a cock or balls to torture! Minor details, man, minor details. That’s one of my favorite masturbation fantasies, though. I *love* watching CBT porn and it’s just about the only porn I will watch.

I do not have any desires or fantasies to actually hurt another person. When I first discovered kink I had a relationship with a switch and did a bit of topping, but it just isn’t my thing. That experience is probably why I don’t have those fantasies. I’ve already tried it and didn’t care for it.

I was wondering when and where did you meet your Master?

I always have to carefully think about what year it was that we met because it feels like I’ve known him forever. Let’s see – this year will be our 3rd wedding anniversary and we were together for… shoot.. 3 years(?maybe 2) before we got married. And then we sort of “knew” each other for about 2 years before that.

We first became aware of each other’s presence in a bdsm-themed chat room. But we only chatted there as chat buds because we were both in other relationships at the time. (It’s weird to think back to that time from where we are now. There was no question that we were drawn to each other, but we never once were inappropriate. He was just so much fun to chat with and we bantered back and forth all the time.) Then we fell out of touch with each other because we both took a break from chatting for a while.

In the meantime, those relationships we’d been in had ended though we didn’t know that about the other. I had started chatting again after a few months but he never came back to chat and really, I’d forgotten about him. But he was still in touch with a girl who I chatted with, a girl who was his previous online sub actually, and she decided that we needed to meet. (waves to rinna)

She decided this based mostly on the fact that he and I had the same favorite ice cream…lol. That just cracks me up these days.

Anywho, she pretty much arranged the meeting. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a booty call. We were both still stinging from our fairly recent break-ups but he was passing through my area on his travels so we figured why the fuck not? A little pain, a lot of sex, do us both some good, right?

He was supposed to stay one night and he ended up staying the whole weekend before he HAD to leave. When I talked to rinna after he left I was already telling her that I could easily fall in love with that man, and she was all, No! No you don’t! Slow down!

I didn’t listen to her. Two months later we were living together and the rest is in the archives. ;-)

When did you have your first (consensual–I don’t want to assume anything) kiss? How did it happen?

I’m assuming you mean between Master and I and not my first kiss ever, right?

Um, that first day that we met, as I said it was meant to be a booty call. So I already knew we were gonna fuck on the first date. I was plenty nervous though, and very insecure, and I’d never even laid eyes on him before, nor he on me, so I was very much worried that we’d not even find each other attractive in the least.

We kind of came up with a “code” for the day we met to indicate to the other after laying eyes on the other, everything was still a go. I mean, it’s not like i was gonna say “Oh hey, yer ugly. See ya later, bye!” right? (Though he’s not ugly. He’s very attractive!)

Because it was all supposed to be dom-sub, he wanted me naked-ish. What we decided to do was this: I’d be naked under a flimsy little robe. (He came to my house, btw. I wasn’t slutting it in public) If he found me attractive, he’d say “So are you going to open that robe for me?” Or something like that, i can’t remember the exact wording. That was my cue that he was still on board with the plan. And if I let the robe fall open to reveal my naked self, that was my cue that I was still on board with the plan.

I know it all sounds so silly now, but we were young then! Young and clueless. Cut us some slack!

So he asked, I let it fall, and he swooped me up into a heart-stopping kiss. Which was the end of the romantic, awww!, stuff for a while. Cuz, then he hurt me and we had raunchy, rotten, nasty sex with lots of slapping and ouchy and degradation.

I was in lurve. *sappy sigh*

What has been the most difficult thing about the change in your relationship from M/s to more ‘nilla-y

I don’t know if this is going to make sense but the hardest thing about it is that it was so easy.

I mean, it’s almost frightening how easily it slipped into what it is. How easily we’ve accepted it, how comfortable it feels, how well we interact – the whole thing. It seems like there should have been a crash and a bang and a fight. But there wasn’t.

What I struggle with the most outside of him and I, is not feeling like I particularly fit in with the bdsm crowd anymore. I think my identity, especially in the online forum, was so wrapped up in posting pictures and recounting scenes and stuff that I almost feel like I’m out of my element these days.

It’s not that anyone has ever made me feel that way, it’s all me and I know that. I guess I don’t feel interesting? And I’m just waiting for someone to say it.

Stupid insecurities. Do we *ever* leave high school??

How many loads do you swallow a week? Of those what is the breakdown: bjs? sex finishes? other? What do you prefer?

I’m going to answer this from a typical time frame and not the present time frame of Master working himself to death. Because for right now and until he gets a day off, any kind of sex is sporatic at best.

Typically, Master orgasms at least once a day, sometimes two, occasionally more than two. But it’s safe to say once or twice per day, so per week anywhere from seven to fourteen times.

I swallow all of them, usually. He rarely doesn’t finish in my mouth. The only time he doesn’t end in my mouth is during period sex or messy anal sex. Otherwise, I think what *makes* him come is the sight of my open mouth waiting for it. (He really likes that. That just tickles me.)

I’d estimate it’s an even mix of blow jobs and sex finishes. Probably slightly leaning toward blow jobs.

I prefer the sex finishes, of course! At least I also get to come then. I don’t do a whole lot of orgasming during a blow job and it IS all about me, you know. ;-)

Im curious of when or how you made the transition from just “thinking” like Master’s slave to actually and honestly “feeling” like His slave?

Not without a lot of angst and tears and thinking we’d never get it right, that’s for sure.

I want to say that it started to happen when I stopped trying to turn him into my dream dom and instead, started working to become his dream slave.

Which is way easier than it sounds. I just think that we submissive type come into these relationships with so many preconceived ideas, things we read on this blog or in that forum or this yahoo group. All the ways it should be and how it shouldn’t be, what we should feel, what they should be doing, how it’s done right or wrong -

Just so. much. stuff. So much that isn’t based on reality, or that completely misses the point of who should be in charge. Its not like I think anyone should not have *any* needs or wants because obviously we all come into these relationship because we have needs and wants and we want them filled, right?

The question then, for me, was Can he fill those needs? I was sure he could. Then it was, But will he? And I was sure he would. Then it became Is he going to fill them his way and in his time or am I pushing for it to be done my way and on my time? That was a trickier question to answer, and a rather unflattering answer when I had to admit that I wasn’t letting go and I was still trying to force him to do it my way.

As for how I let go and how I ultimately found peace with it? An every day conscious choice to shut up, listen, do what I’m told, and please him. (That recipe for success courtesy of Kitten)

Do that long enough and it becomes your normal way of being. And it’s SO peaceful.

None of that says I don’t have bad days or moments when I lose it. I certainly do. I had one last night in fact, over a ridiculously silly stupid thing that I insisted I was right about and I just would not let it go.

The work never ends, it just can be easier. There is something profound that happens internally when you start finding pleasure in denying yourself what you think you *need* to have, only to find out that what you really needed was exactly what he gave you – even if that something is sometimes nothing.

~cunt

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