Breast Cancer Awareness

I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been touched by cancer in some way. For myself, I have a grandfather who passed from cancer, a sister in law who passed from cancer, and Master’s mother passed from cancer. One of my favorite readers lost a wife to cancer not so awfully long ago.

Yet, people shy away from talking about cancer. It’s painful. It’s scary. It, perhaps, makes people wonder if they’re next.

As I rapidly approach my 40th birthday, I can’t stop thinking about my first mammogram. I’m apprehensive, nervous. Not of the pain (srsly. come on. Me and boobie pain are like THIS >.<), but of the results. According to BreastCancer.org, "in 2009, an estimated 192,370 new cases of invasive breast cancer were expected to be diagnosed in women in the U.S., along with 62,280 new cases of non-invasive (in situ) breast cancer" and "Breast cancer incidence in women in the United States is 1 in 8".

I don't like those numbers. For a long time I believed I wasn't at a big risk for breast cancer because it isn't hereditary in my family. And then I found this out: “90% of breast cancers are due not to heredity, but to genetic abnormalities that happen as a result of the aging process and life in general.”

90%.

I *really* don’t like that number.

So when I was asked to help participate in a little bit of social awareness for breast cancer, I didn’t hesitate.

It’s not much. You don’t even have to donate. You don’t have to walk or wear pink or post pictures of your tits (though if you wanted to do any of those things, that would be AWESOME, too!)

The folks over at Aren’t We Naughty are pledging a donation to the Breast Cancer Foundation. All they– all I– am asking you to do is to go to your Facebook page, and like these folks right here: http://www.facebook.com/awnstore

Then tell all of your Facebook friends to do the same.

The more people who like them and what they are doing, the bigger the donation will be.

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, my friends!

Also, if you go to Aren’t We Naughty and take this fun little quiz, you get a 1% discount in their online store for every correct answer.

Redefining the World, One Word at a Time

I LOVE THIS!

Paintoy was one of the very first bdsm porn sites that I got myself a paid membership to way back before I’d ever had so much as a paddle on my ass. I knew even before I started that I wasn’t interested in slap and tickle, fake moans and feather floggers. If there weren’t screams, genuine tears, and marks that rose up, then no thanks. Paintoy delivers alla that, and more. A lot more. It is definitely my favorite for extreme bdsm content.

However, I didn’t come here to plug the site. I came here to plug the site owner. Because he made that picture and posted it on Fet and it just tickled me pink.

Casa de cunt

It’s been a busy couple of days at teh casa de cunt.

Not that I could pinpoint any one thing that’s kept me busy. It’s been a cumulative sort of busy. We went to a little renaissance fair for a couple of hours and he bought two rabbit furs that make for amazing sensation play. I know my vegetarian friends will shudder at how I think it’s erotic to have a dead animal rubbed over my freshly whipped and hotly welted skin, but there it is. It feels fucking fantastic.

~~*~~

Then we had Jack and Jill and another Domme and another sub over for a cookout. I grilled out chicken, made a spinach-strawberry salad, steamed veggies, a potato casserole, and for dessert, I grilled pears and pineapple, served with a raspberry drizzle (that was more of a raspberry splosh than a fancy-shmancy drizzle) (The grilled pineapple was yum, the pears were meh)(The chicken was dry, the casserole was a hit) (The salad was nom).

We had a great time. Keeping company with other kinky folks is pretty fucking awesome. It just kind of boosts things up.

~~*~~

We went to an outdoor wedding reception garden party which was awesome. There were flowers everywhere. It was so purty. And there was a chocolate fountain.

A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN.

So I convinced Teh Man that fruit dipped in chocolate was still healthy diet foods and he let me have some. Idn’t he a doll?

~~*~~

I also had a house to clean (for that super-super part-time not-really-a-job job that I have) but it was an easy one to do. Not nearly as filthy as some of them that I’ve done. She said she’ll have another house for me in a week or two.

~~*~~

Speaking of jobs, I have a possible line on a real part-time cleaning job that he (we) can’t seem to decide if I should try and get it or not.

It’s office/factory cleaning, about 20 hours a week, afternoons, M-F.

My hesitation is over Babygirl. I’m incredibly reluctant to put her in daycare having had a bad daycare experience when my girls were babies. I’m VERY distrustful of babysitters. Not only that, but since the job is just minimum wage and a daycare charges about half that per kid, I’m not sure that the little financial gain is worth the worry of Babygirl being there.

His hesitation is mostly domly-spoiled man stuff. He doesn’t care about the money, and though he shares some worry about daycare he’s never had a bad daycare experience (or any experience for that matter) so that’s not his main concern. He’s pretty much thinking of “the time and energy to go clean for a couple of hours every day will have to come from somewhere and how much you wanna bet that somewhere will be ME”. Because it can’t come from Baby, and it really can’t come from the cooking and cleaning I have to do here, sooooo…..

Not that having a job and raising kids and doing your own housework while still being a service-sex slave isn’t possible. I know most of y’all do it and do it well. It’s just the very reason he pulled me out of work in the first place was precisely because he didn’t want to share that time and energy anymore than he had to.

So, you’re probably wondering why we’re even considering the job at all, huh?

Well. I don’t rightly know, to be honest. It’s hard, I guess, to turn down easy money. But a decision has to be made shortly or I’m gonna lose it anyway. He keeps going back and forth on it. We’ll see I suppose.

~~*~~

Master adopted me a chihuahua from the humane society.

I know, right? Whiskey-tango-foxtrot, Chuck?

See, what happened was Jes came home the other morning with a stray dog that was sitting on the side of the road. I called in to report a lost pet right away and within a few hours, the owners had called and were making arrangements to pick it up. In the meantime though, we all got a serious case of puppy fever.

It’s been almost a year and a half since we put Master’s baby down. He’d not even seriously considered getting another dog until he had that little stray pattering about the house. He almost suggested that I not even call it in to report it, but of course that’s not the right thing to do. The dog was obviously someone’s pet that got lost and not a real stray. He was trained and too friendly. Had the owners not called though, we’d have kept it, I’m sure.

Anyway. The dog went home and Master suggested that I browse the humane society’s website, which it just so happens I was doing even as he spoke the words, and we zipped on over there to meet the pooches.

Master’s always been partial to bigger dogs so that was the game plan when we went in. Meet the dogs, play a little bit, see what they have that meets his wants.

And then we left having adopted a chihuahua. There is just no telling, yanno?

I don’t know his name just yet. He’s definitely not keeping his shelter name. It just so happens to be the same name as one of my childhood abusers. So, yeah. NOT. I need some time with him to get his personality. He’s a long-haired one, looks something like this, only I don’t think he had all that white on him:

We don’t have him home yet. He has to get his vet stuff finished. He’s not a puppy, he’s 6 years old. He was transferred from another shelter where he came in as a stray because he was set to be put down, and I guess sometimes before they euthanize, they’ll give them a chance in another location.

I’m a little worried. His age, plus the fact that he was a stray and then a shelter dog- I’m thinking housebreaking might be a job. But he’s not anti-social, he walked on a leash. He was friendly, he didn’t bark much, didn’t seem to care about the shelter cats, and he passed all of his testing. No food aggression, no aggression apparent to kids.

Anyway, I’m already planning ways to block him in the kitchen at first. That’s not as easy as a babygate in the doorway; we have a semi-open floor plan. But I definitely want him off the carpet and away from the baby for awhile. Baby thinks puppies are the neatest thing since fig newtons.

~~*~~

We didn’t get that house I mentioned last week. It went to the people before us. Which was okay since right before we were notified, Master poo-pooed the idea of moving anyway. He went on to talk about how he moved here precisely because he wanted this isolation, which, since we haven’t talked about our future M/s plans for so long, was kind of nice to hear. I’d kind of thought he’d maybe moved away from his interest in the whole ‘cunt in a cage’ concept, but apparently not.

Not that we’re incredibly isolated anymore either. When we moved here, there were a scant 3 houses down this road. In the last two years, the builder has added 4 or 5 more. There’s a fair bit of traffic these days, including people just strolling or biking along. But not all is lost as we still have the acreage that came with the house which secludes us a little bit.

So, yay for that, even if I didn’t get my 7 bedroom, double living room, 2 garage, Victorian monster with the wrap-around porch. I still have a 5 bedroom, 3 bath, with a deck and a terrific future cunt cupboard under the stairs. *beams*

~~*~~

I was just talking to Jill about the ebb and flow of the more noticeable activities of M/s, and had remarked that Master was in the flow portion of the ebb-n-flow. He’s been stricter, harsher, firmer.

I’m not complaining. I’m enjoying the fuck out of it.

I think he’s enjoying the fuck, period.

The other day, the planets, stars and moon aligned and we had no kids for a short time. At first neither of us were aware of the gift that I had fallen in our laps. All of a sudden, he came stomping into the living room, looking all pissed off, looked at me innocently sitting on the couch reading a book and snapped “What the fuck are you doing?”

Which just about had me pissing in my panties as I searched my mind for just what exactly the fuck I was apparently supposed to be doing.

“Um. I don’t know?” was my intelligent reply.

“We have no kids here. Get your ass in the bedroom. Why aren’t we fucking?”

“I don’t know!” was my much happier (and hella relieved) reply.

So I went and we did and it were grand.

Then, a day or so later, it was my turn. We were laying in bed reading our books and it dawned on me that we should be fucking so I turned to him and said “Hey. You wanna fuck?” and by way of answering he whipped the sheet off his body and pushed my head down to his dick.

I took that as a yes.

Then we had incredible, amazing, sweaty, hot, upside down sex that made my eyes roll and my toes curl and made him collapse on top of me and giggle (yes. I know. He GIGGLED. A manly-domly giggle but a giggle nonetheless) as he said “That. Was. AWESOME!” (just like that kid on the tricycle at the of The Incredibles).

And then just last night I was in the shower when he came in, yanked the door open, pushed me down to my knees and spurted all over my (freshly washed *sigh*) face and hair. And then he left.

Then I whined because it got in my eye and my eye got all stinging and bloodshot, which he thought was funny so he tried to take a picture of it and I couldn’t keep my eye open for the flash of the camera so he was pinning me down and trying to pry my eye open while flashing the camera directly in it and I told him he was gonna blind me and that was *for sure* against the rules of bdsm and he’d be kicked outta the SSC club if he didn’t stop- and then I saw flashbulbs for ages.

The picture is fucking hilarious, but also fucking hideous and no, no you cannot see it.

~~*~~

Also, it looks like we’re gonna make it to Twisted Tryst. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too far, and he’s being real careful to temper all talk about it with the disclaimer of “but things come up and we might not..”

However!

We’re fucking going.

The End.

Sanity

One more song and dance routine of Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes and I will lose mine.

That is all.

Maybe Mental

Random quote snatched from Fet:

Loving this “No dealbreakers, no limits, it’s His perogative” stuff. Not to pass judgements, but if I’m on his jury when he cuts your throat, hey….

A lack of self-preservation and survival instinct indicates mental illness. And frankly, I don’t see why a Master would want a slave with that kind of low self-esteem.

Thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Why?

Tweets

• WordPress is giving me fits and won’t let me upload any pictures so the post I wanted to do can’t be done.
• We’re bottle weaning. She’s stubborn, willful, determined and has a screech that goes right into the center of my brain like an ice pick. She’s winning.
• We went and looked at a house yesterday that i absolutely LOVE. It’s huge, old Victorian-style, has 2 living rooms, SEVEN bedrooms, and 2 garages. Plus, it’s about 10 minutes from Master’s work. We’re an hour from it now. And, it’s the same price as this house. But we aren’t first in line for it, nor has Master decided 100% that he wants to move anyway. Thou shalt not dangle teh carrots in front of teh donkey!
• I need sex. He’s working too much (or just not touching me!). Much masturbation has occurred.
• I texted him the other day in the middle of the work day to gloat that I’d just finished masturbating. He paid me back by telling his co-worker. Much blushing has occurred.
• He’s not 100% sure that Twisted Tryst will be doable this month either. There is a lot going on at work and he’s obligated to attend to it if it needs tending during that week. I’m going to try and be a big girl about it but expect much whining to occur if we can’t go.
• I expect to die of cancer of the tongue if he keeps shoving his lube-covered penis in my mouth. Plus, it tastes yucky. Blech.
• But I guess I’d die with him happy
• Why don’t ALL men want to be doms? Sex on demand seems a rather common male fantasy. Baffling.
• I want bondage sex.
• Masturbation calls. Brb.
• Actually I lied. A poopy diaper and the crabby baby in it calls, but that doesn’t sound nearly as sexy. Either way though, I’m outta here. :/

Playing With Toys

“I want to see my tits and my pussy, cunt. Now.”

I put my book down and looked over at him. He was naked, erect, and slowly stroking himself.

And waiting. Not patiently.

Still, I hesitated. Squirmed. Blushed. Mumbled a half-hearted protest, even though I knew I was defeated before I began.

I knew what he was going to do. I knew he was just going to look. Inspect. Stare. And otherwise scrutinize my naked body.

It does not seem to matter that he’s seen it eleventy-billion times before. It does not matter that he’s seen, touched, and probably licked, every flaw, every imperfection, every mark. It doesn’t matter that I’m naked in his presence more than I’m dressed.

It just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t compare. All of those natural occurrences of viewing, of shared coupling, of mutual body exploration don’t even compare to this… this… bug-under-a-microscope experience when he just has me lie there, exposed and spread and nakedly vulnerable to his disconcerting gaze.

He gave an impatient grunt and flapped his hand at me in a hurry-it-up gesture.

Swallowing the embarrassment, I stripped, lay back, and shyly propped my legs open a bit.

Without a word, he lewdly shoved them apart, my lips spreading, cool air whispering across my dampness. He grunted in approval and reached down to tug and pull, stretching things open to an indecent level.

There’s something that happens to his face, to his eyes, something that tells me he’s not seeing me. Not the me that is a person, a woman, his. He’s not there. We’re not there together. He’s shut me off, tuned me out, turned the me that is me away. He’s seeing a cunt, a wet, exposed, vulgar piece of meat.

He climbed up between my legs, up on his knees, still stroking himself, and still no words passed between us since my initial embarrassed, quiet protests. It’d be so easy to close my eyes, to hide within myself, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the expression on his face. It was like watching someone else through a window, a peeping tom into his world.

Plus, I wanted to be there in the moment. Fully immersed in being dismissed, being nothing. I wanted, needed, to experience him discarding me.

God damn masochism. Hate feeling so raw while at the same time dragging my own mental fingernails down the abrasion.

He flicked his fingers across my clit and I jerked, moaned. For a moment, he came back, blinking at me. And then he was gone again, staring unabashed at my spread-wide cunt, his hand slowly, lazily stroking up and down his cock.

He didn’t touch me again.

I wasn’t allowed or encouraged or expected to touch him. I wasn’t really supposed to be there. Just my meat.

He wasn’t going to fuck me. He wasn’t going to make me come. I was just a tool, a living, breathing toy.

Though it felt an eternity that I laid there, spread open to his view as his hand worked himself, it likely wasn’t long before he sat upright and with a deep, guttural growl, shot sperm across my torso, my pubic mound, my tits. And then he was gone, leaving me to marinate.

Later, when he was snoring softly beside me and the ceiling fan had long-since dried me off, I pulled the sheet over my naked body and rolled to look at his sleeping face. I marveled at the simplicity. He’d left me feeling well used with hardly a touch.

Maybe the difference between men and boys isn’t just the price of their toys, but in how they play them.

~cunt

Job Security

Do you wonder just how much that guy (Derrick Pierce, btw) loves his job?

Seriously. The bragging rights he must have down at the local watering hole.

Bartender: “Hey man! Nice to meet you! So what do you do?”

Derrick Pierce: “I tie gorgeous girls up, beat them til they cry and then fuck them in whatever hole looks good at the time.”

Everyone else: “I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!”

The applicants must be lined up around the block.

Lulz

OMGWTFBBQ!

There is something terribly, terribly, TERRIBLY WRONG!!

Last night, at bedtime, I begged my way out of blow job, sperm-swallowing session just because I had just brushed my teeth!!!

*runs off to take my temperature*

Worse than that though?

HE LET ME!!

*runs off to call an exorcist*

Also, I totally told him I was going to blog about him getting his ball sack stuck to the toilet lid and now I have. BWAHAHAHA! Funniest thing I’ve seen all year.