Which side of the turkey has the most feathers?

The outside.

Duh!

Bwahahahaha!

I feel the need to do a short ‘What I am thankful for’ post. It’s early but we’re going to be gone and this will probably be my last post before next week. In fact, I asked a question over on the Domestic Servitude blog that you should go and help me with. *nods*

In no particular order, I am thankful for:

  • I have love in my life. Lots and lots of love. I have lots of people to love, and lots of people who love me in return.

  • My husband. My best friend, my partner, my lover, my owner.

  • Our health. Mentally, physically, spiritually.

  • Joy. Our house is a happy home.

  • My children. They are good kids and I’m so proud to be their mother. I love them all so much.

  • My granddaughter. She’s beautiful. Her presence has revealed to me a sense of family, of continuation, of love and connection that I had no idea existed. I’m thankful to have been given the opportunity to so intimately observe my daughter grow into motherhood and to participate in that growth.

  • I’m thankful that Master understands my need to go home this holiday season. As soon as I said that my mom is not well, he made it happen without a second thought.

  • I’m thankful that my mom’s health, fragile as it is, is allowing for at least one more Thanksgiving. I can only hope and pray for more.

  • Finances. Knowing so many who are struggling to stay afloat in this economy makes me incredibly grateful that Master’s job is stable and secure. We can afford to celebrate, and I’m so thankful for that.

  • I have a home. A beautiful, spacious, warm, comfortable home, with all of the comforts and conveniences of such.

  • Food. In a world where so many do, nobody in this house ever goes to bed hungry.

  • Living my dreams. There is nothing unfulfilled, nothing hidden, nothing unrealized. I can have it all, it’s all right here.

  • Honesty and openness. I can, and do, share everything with him, and I’m free from judgement.

  • Laughter, whether in bed late at night or with my kids, I’m grateful to have someone to laugh with.

  • It hasn’t snowed yet. I’m SO thankful!

  • Good books. Especially good books that are accompanied by a warm blanket, a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee and a man who lets me disappear into it for hours at a time.

  • Sex. I’m thankful for sex. Not just any sex, good sex.

  • Friends. I have some!

  • My cats. I love my cats. Especially when they just hop up and plant themselves in your face, so confident that you love them and that you’re, of course, delighted to have their attention. I can’t help but admire anything that sure of spirit!

  • Chocolate. That one is self-explanatory!

  • The internet, for connecting me with friends I’d have otherwise never met.

Happy Thanksgiving!

1 person likes this post.

Follow The Leader

I’ve got some thoughts rattling. It’s just some stuff I read that sparked one thought to another. Not necessarily anything that I am currently struggling with, but certainly a projected path that I could imagine.

Proactive service vs. Presumptuous service.

Lets talk for a minute about Slave O and Master M.

O wants very desperately to be a good slave, to be what her Master wants. Master M has spent a number of years working with, and training O to be everything he’s ever wanted. O feels like she has a pretty good grasp on who M is, what he wants, and in how best to serve him.

Over time though, as can happen, life starts weighing them down. Age, health, money, kids, work, stress… it’s all there. Sometimes, just getting through the day zaps all of their energy. The M/s is never gone as it’s too much of an ingrained part of who they are to ever slide completely away.

An accurate analogy of them might be “the surface of the river is deceptively glassy, while underneath runs a strong current.”

But Slave O and Master M aren’t content with ‘deceptively glassy’. They miss riding the rapids. They’ve talked extensively about it. Master M, while agreeing that he misses it too, appears uninspired to suit up.

Slave O, after waiting some time for Master M to whip up some whitecaps, begins to think of ways that she could proactively “encourage” Master M to resume his post as Paddle Captain.

But it’s a fine line, don’t you think, between proactive and presumptous?

Because of…

Feeling Obligated vs. They Get To Do What They Want

It seems a rather common thread amongst most M/s couples I know that the dominant gets to do what he wants when he wants (within the laws of reason, I suppose. Wanting to be able to fly isnt going to sprout him wings once he hops off the cliff! Likewise, wanting to stop working won’t pay the bills.)

But let’s assume that Master M is a reasonable and intelligent adult and forgo any complicated wants. He wants what he wants when he wants it, agreed?

Good.

Now let’s say that Slave O, pure of spirit and mind, proactively sets up a scenario in which Master M is confronted with the obvious want of his slave. Let’s say she shuffles the kids to a sitter for the night and greets Master M at the door sans clothing. Let’s say she’s spread his favorites toys out, and she slips to her knees before him and bows her head to his feet.

Master M would look at his slave, naked and on the floor, groveling at his feet, view the toys, notice the quiet that only occurs when kids have left the house. The music, the wine, the lighting- but mostly the naked chic on the floor.

It is obvious what is supposed to happen here. There is, without question, a feeling of being obligated. She’s done all of this work, created this stage, arranged this time.

Now, if what he wants to do right at that particular time is to ravish his naked woman until they are both left dehydrated lumps of flesh on the rumpled bedsheets, then all is well and good. Because doing what he wants to do trumped obligation.

But what if the only thing he had been thinking about all day at his grueling job was how he couldn’t wait to get home, turn on the football game, put his feet up and snore his way through the second half. He wanted a cold beer, some hot food and some sleep. In that order.

And gosh darn it, he’s the dom, he’s the Master, he’s created a living environment in which he, yep you guessed it, he gets to do what he wants to do when he wants to do it.

Instead, he opens the front door to- naked slavegirl.

Does he remain true to his wants or does he give in to obligation?

The pat answer is that he’d remain true to his wants. That seems vital to the core of M/s.

Right? Except for…

Anticipation vs. Disappointment.

Slave O has definite expectations on how the night will turn out. She giggled while kissing the kids goodbye. She got the nervous-sweats rushing to get the house set up before he came home. Her fingers shook so badly she could barely strap the cuffs around her wrists. And she had to wipe her inner thighs-twice!-while laying out his favorite toys.

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, her heart damn near escaped her chest when she heard his key in the lock.

Exactly how much would Master M be destroying in her if he does not give in to the obligation to meet her expectations?

Pretty huge, I’d think.

How much of himself has he compromised by following her lead?

No matter how much Slave O is cautioned to check the expectations at the door, no matter how many times she’s experienced expectations falling flat, no matter how much she knows, how much she believes in and arranges for and supports that her Master M gets to do what he wants when he wants to do it– no matter ALL of that–expectations remain.

Maybe they’re softer. Muted. But they exist.

Without them, while it may be true you’d save yourself from some devastatingly disappointing moments, you’d lose anticipation. And I happen to find anticipating big moments to be half the fun of it.

However, placing those expectations upon Master M, arranging scenes, whether proactively or presumptuous, and then anticipating the outcome seems to muddy the once perfectly white waters that they used to raft on.

Because, one cannot always tell who is…

Leading vs. Being Lead

I take umbrage at the idea that the Master of the relationship carries all of the burden and responsibility of said relationship.

Yet, the fact remains that given the nature of how we relate, our hands are tied on just how much responsibility we can assume, just how much we can direct the day to day before we are, in fact, directing the relationship itself.

Too much active participation, and we become The Leader.

Too little active participation, and we, perhaps, cease to matter.

That probably sounds a bit melodramatic. One could say, well, I hardly think you cease to matter just because you step back and let them do what they want when they want! After all that’s the core, that’s the key!

But- think about it…

God Syndrome vs. Masterhood

Humans are selfish, self-absorbed creatures.

Desires run deep and hard. People put themselves into all sorts of impossible and ruinous situations to fulfill their own desires.

Desires are kept in check, hopefully, by your internal compasses. Maturity, morals, ethics, integrity, honesty. After all, some people ARE alive only because it’s illegal to kill them.

Those internal compasses are shaped by life, by circumstance, by your peers and associates. That compass changes direction based on where you are, who you are with, what the circumstance is.

How often do we hear that someone is a completely different person at home than they are at work, or when they are in a social situation.

Or, more shockingly-How often do we hear how that serial killer who mutilated 7 young girls and lived next door was “the nicest guy! I just can’t believe it! He used to rake my leaves!”

If Master M is always and forever quietly supported and encouraged to do what he wants when he wants without regard to Slave O’s expectations, needs or wants, then he WILL stop seeing her.

He’ll stop SEEING her. Not with his eyes. With his mind. With his compass.

She will cease to matter. His ego will cloud out his better judgement. He’ll become so convinced of his superior needs and wants that he’ll forget she even had any. Or, simply dismiss her’s as worth attending to.

He’s treated as a God, he begins to think he is one. Above reproach, above expectation.

Above being a disappointment.

So what does she do when she’s fervently wishing for a white water rafting expedition and Master M is stuck in an eddy?

I don’t know.

It seems a slippery slope, with sharp rocks at the bottom.

1 person likes this post.

Erm, nevermind.

It ain’t broke.

I thought it was. Of course, he comes home from work and 5 minutes later he’s happily surfing the net.

Have I mentioned I’m a computer retard?

It was a good lesson though. I thought I lost everything so guess what I’m doing now? Baby pictures, urls, passwords- I thought it was all gone fo-evah! I’m a busy back-up bee today.

(Big thanks to luna for helping me recover that which I’d thought I’d lost!)

I’m having brunch this morning with Jill (Of Jack and Jill, my bff-jill). I was going to have a Little-s-type brunch here but the kid has a doctor appt. and I’ve got mucho errands to run. Another time, though. :-(

We had Jack and Jill over for dinner last night and had such a blast. They are so much fun and we get along really well. We have a lot in common, and Master really seems to value having someone who has been in the step-parent/step-grandparent role to bounce things off of. And I very much value having another mother/grandma/slave to relate to.

We just talk, about life, kink, kids, money. We laugh, tease, tell jokes. We really value their friendship.

Mushy stuff aside-

Jill farted at the table so I’m guessing I was a good cook. That’s a compliment to the chef, right?

*snicker*

She’s just going to die when she reads this. I can see her blushing from here. Fortunately for ME, she won’t read it until AFTER we’ve had brunch. Ha!

Of course, Jack keeps threatening to spill the beans on the real kaya- but gosh golly darn it! The one with the blog has all the power! Mwahahahaha!

So I just have to ask all of you church-goers out there, seeings as how I’m not a bible expert or anything: Is farting in front of the preacher’s wife and then nonchalantly slipping away and letting your Master take the blame a special sin? Or just a regular sin? I’m not clear on it.

Do I need to save her a seat in hell? One that is far away and downwind from me, of course.

(For the record, I do not fart.)

(I get the vapors, maybe, but no farting.)

Anyway! Sorry for the false alarm (that I think I’ve done a couple of times now because when I push the button and nothing happens I just KNOW the sky is falling!) but thank you for thinking you might miss me! I has a warm fuzzy naow.

Blue Screen of Death

It may be pretty quiet around these parts for the next little while. Our computer is (has?) crashed and I don’t like to access my naughty sites on the kids computer.

Be back when I can!

Look At My Cummy Cunt!

That was one of the search terms that brought someone here.

Look at my cummy cunt.

I have never, ever, ever, ever (ever. I mean it!) used the word ‘cummy’.

Never.

In fact, I try not to use the word ‘cum’ even, let alone ‘cummy’.

I have more imagination than to be stuck with ‘cummy’. Wet, juicy, dripping, sopping, drooling, filled, leaking- I mean, shoot! Cummy. Puh-leaze. How old are you, 12? And if you ARE 12, GTFO my site. Where is your ‘mummy’ anyway?

In other non-kink related news- Master bought me the new Stephen King novel. Have you seen that baby? It’s massive! I’m uber-squeed to get to read it. First he said he was going to make me wait until Christmas to read it, but I puppydog-eyed my way into getting it now. I have to finish the book I’m reading though (and had JUST started when I got the SK one). It’s a who-dun-it type so I’m skimming it to find out who-dun-it.

Over the weekend we went to the movies and watched that 3D Christmas Carol. I thought it was pretty good, though definitely not a kids movie. I really liked it. Now I want to see 2012. And maybe New Moon but I’m not sure. Twilight sucked major balls so.. meh.. maybe not.

In kink-related news- we went to a play party after the munch this last weekend. Strangely enough, we didn’t play with each other. I got a couple of experimental whacks from another Dom who had toys I’d never experienced before, and Master got to whap on a girl who was new to almost everything. We never managed to whap on each other though.

Well, not that I whack HIM- but you know what I mean.

Actually that’s not entirely true. When I was standing there watching him I made a smart-ass comment and, without even turning around, he snapped the singletail back at me and left a welt across my shin.

Fucker! I’m totally reporting him to the Safety Police. You can’t whip someone’s *shin*! My leg coulda falled off! I hope they fine him but good.

Speaking of anger and disappointment (because I totally was. You just missed it, that’s all)- there’s a reoccuring topic on Fetlife about the concept of being devastated if your Owner-type becomes disappointed in you.

All of this “The worst punishment is his disappointment” .. blah blah blah.

It just strikes me as so much trite bullshit.

Not that I challenge anyone who feels that way. I don’t. If it is that devastating to you then I completely believe that it is.

It’s just not for me. Like.. not at ALL.

I mostly just kind of shrug and think, um, so?

I know I’ve said otherwise in long-ago posts. I know I have. I was wrong.

Mostly I think I probably parroted what I’d heard so many other slaves that I admired say. Or, maybe I even wanted it to be that way for me, like it seemed to be for everyone else, so badly that I tried to convince myself that I was devastated. Kind of the theory of “fake it til you make it”.

But I’m so not about trying to fit in or ‘do it right’ or any of that anymore.

Or..maybe I was devastated back in the early days. Maybe I’m so used to disappointing him that it doesn’t bother me anymore.

I’m just not upset when I disappoint him.

I mean.. I AM. Momentarily. But I’m not crushed by any means.

Take this morning for example. Yesterday before Master left for work, he laid out a shirt and asked me to sew a button on it. Well, the day was what it was, I had to run B-man to the doctor which was unplanned, Jes was leaving for two weeks so I got busy helping her pack up and get out the door, then I rushed around trying to get the house cleaned up and supper going before he got home so I put off the button sewing.

He even reminded me when he got home. I told him I had every intention of sewing it before bed, that I hadn’t forgotten (because I really hadn’t, I was just busy) and that he didn’t need to worry (read: don’t ride my ass about it. I’m on it!)

And then… yep… completely spaced it out for the rest of the night. Did not even think of it at ALL.

So this morning he asks me about the button. You know that deer-in-headlights look? Well I got the deer-in-headlights feeling. But it’s pretty fleeting, you know what I mean?

I fucked up. Admittedly. I disappointed him and I felt bad.

But, once I’ve apologized, what ELSE can I do about it? I can’t turn the clocks back. I can’t fix it, can’t change it. I didn’t intentionally forget, I didn’t blow it off as unimportant, I didn’t refuse to do it. I didn’t want to disappoint him. That I DID is regrettable, but not devastating.

It didn’t ruin my day, in other words. Didn’t ruin his either. He ribbed me about it for awhile, I profusely apologized, then he laughed and told me to punish myself by masturbating.

Seriously! Is he the most awesome guy EVAR or what?!

Point is, disappointing someone or making someone angry is a fact of life. It’s part of being human. If I was devastated every time I acted like a human, I’d spend a lot of time being emo in the corner.

How is it for y’all? Am I the only callous bitch ’round here?

Fucking A

I just typed up a big ol post and wordpress ate it.

Condensed version because I don’t have time to redo it: Been busy, had fun.

Fucking wordpress.

Now I’m pissy. Bah.

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My Fate Is Sealed

“This is how you’re going to die.” He said, breathless from the effort he was expending trying to drill through me and into the mattress underneath.

I cracked open one eye and peered up at him. His head was tilted back, his face contorted, sweat shimmered on his chest.

“You’re going to fuck me to death?” I asked, the words huffing out as he fucked the air out of me.

“Yep.” He grunted and doubled his efforts.

Oh God, what a way to go, I thought, a slow, lazy smile spreading across my face. Shutting my eye, I fell back, fell away, as that familiar tingle started in my toes.

~~*~~

I’m not dead.

But it ain’t for lack of trying.

;-)

~cunt

BRB!

Something to amuse you while I’m gone:

Is this your kid??

ATT00115

He’s Violating ‘The Vegas Rule’!

We’d started talking about the holidays. About travel, about presents, about money.

“It could be a lean one, snooks.” He said.

“I know. But it could NOT be, too.” I pointed out.

“Well. Even if it’s not, it’s going to be because I read what you wrote on the blog and I’m going to hold you to-”

“HEY! Hey hey hey Mister Man.” I said, wagging my finger at him. “What happens on the blog, stays on the blog!”

That’s the Vegas Rule, baby. You don’t fuck with Vegas.

She’s making a list… checking it twice…

Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice..

Or sexy or not..

Or.. yeah.

Generally, when I hear that I’ve “made someone’s list”, it’s not a good thing. This time it is though.

Apparently, I’ve made the top 100 sex bloggers of 2009 list over at Between My Sheets. Thank you.

(The complete list is posted at the end. Quite a few blogs on there I’d not read before, and a lot that I have. It’s always nice to see new links and get new reads, I think.)

It’s coincidental that I’d find out about this list right when I was about to make a post about sex that is quite unsexy. I wonder if that’ll get me booted from the list? Heh. Let’s find out. ;)

So, Master and I have an issue. It’s a reoccuring issue, one that I “solve” time and time again, only to find myself right back in it a week or so later.

The issue is this: I… am a sex slave failure.

*nods*

Tis true.

Here’s the thing.

He tends to be randy at the most hectic and busy time of my day.

Every day. Without fail.

Shortly after he gets home from work, he wants to fuck.

The kids have recently gotten home from school and they, well, Am anyway, has to recant to me every single word spoken throughout her entire day. What teacher said what, how she did on this test, what friend said this, who is fighting with who, who just broke up, who just made out, who just came out of the closet (srsly. There has been a homosexual explosion at the high school. Gay is the new black.)

B-man does less telling me about his day and more bitching about his day. For real. Is it an age thing? Do 14 year old boys have random moments of pms? He can be such a.. a.. a bitch, to be blunt.

The noise and chaos of those two being home, talking over each other, digging through the kitchen for anything edible, tends to set Babygirl off. She’s either screaming because the chaos pisses her off, or she’s squealing because the chaos got her excited. She’s almost always in her jumperoo which has the. most. annoying. monkey and elephants noises. I mean, that’s a lovely addition to the ruckus, right? Hooting and trumpeting to bouncing baby music.

Then he comes home, and he wants my attention when he walks in the door. He wants me right there to greet him, ready to take stuff out of his hands. He wants to tell me about his day and he wants both ears on him.

Plus, I almost always have something on the stove right then. He wants to eat, I have to cook it. It’s just that simple.

And, always, ALWAYS, somewhere in the middle of that, he’ll come up to me and say “Let’s fuck.”

Are you freakin’ kidding me??

Now I know… I KNOW… those are nothing but excuses. I really do. And poor excuses at that! Shut the stove off, tell the kids to buzz off for a minute, and go make mah man happy. I know.

But at the time, I am as unhorny as it is possible to be. I really really am. I would never, ever tell him no. Never. I just am not.. eager.

That’s a nice way to put it. Yeah. I’m eager-less. (Perhaps, also, apathetic, annoyed, put out, dispassionate, “Ugh. do you really want to?”… but we’ll leave those out for now.)

And that’s not sexy. It hardly turns him on or makes him want me, you know? Not that I blame him or anything.

So he’ll wander off to do his thing, I finish what I’m doing. We eat dinner, the kitchen gets cleaned up, the kids scatter off to laptops and xboxes, Babygirl is in her swing, heading towards sleep, the house is quiet, my work is mostly done for the day, got my feet up and then I’m all.. huh! I’m horny!!

I track him down… and he’s sawing logs in his recliner. Then it’s me saying “Hey! Wanna fuck?!” and he looks at me with bleary eyes and says “I’m going to bed. G’night.”

Hummph.

Rejected!

Last night I says to him, you know Master? We really need to coordinate our horny times. and he says to me, you know cunt? You really need to spread your legs when I’m horny.

And I says, Oh. Right.

I knew that. I really, honest to God know this.

So why do I keep cycling back to this same fucking spot? I mean, we talk about this, him and I, and we come up with a plan. Or we vow to stop. He’ll say things like, cunt, I don’t care what you’re doing, if I want to fuck, I expect you to move your ass and that’s that. And I’ll say things like, cunt, plaster a fucking smile on your face and do what he wants. FFS woman. What a pathetic excuse for a sex slave you are! Snap out of it!

Pep talks, you know?

And then the time comes and…. Nothing. Same old, same old.

It’s terrible.

Obviously I need to make some changes. I need to change the routine so I’m open (literally!) when he comes home. I already KNOW that’s when he wants to go at it. This is not on him to fix, it’s all me.

Now to just DO IT.

Gah. I suck.

Actually no, I don’t. I NEED to, though. Heh.

So there’s my very unsexy sex post. :P

~~*~~

Top 100 sex blogger according to Between My Sheets. Enjoy. :-)