I Have A Secret

I don’t really have a secret, it just feels like I do.

I can’t believe how difficult it’s been for me to sit down here and write something this last week. Not just here either- everywhere.

I’m feeling quite like a little hoarder where everything is mine, mine, mine and no, I am not going to share. Shoo, ya nosy pokers!

;-)

The whole week was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The time with the kids, the time we spent alone, the time we shared with friends– perfect.

Maybe if I talk about it, I’ll break the enchantment spell that the BDSM wizards have placed over us.

Or maybe I’ve been reading too much Harry Potter. (Just finished book 4 last night!)

I even enjoyed the time we had to spend with Master’s step-mother and that is no small feat, let me tell you. (It was less than a few hours, but in her presence, hours become days. No lie.)

Of course she had to get her dig in, she always does. Every single time I see her, always the same question, the same look. “Are you working yet, Tess?”

(Internal sigh. Deep breath. Bite my tongue.) “No, Joan. I’m not working right now.”

“OoooooooOOOoh! Well that must be so NICE for you! SO NICE!”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“What do you DO all day?! Your kids are in school, aren’t they? You must really love those soap operas!” *cackle cackle*

“No, I have never watched a soap-”

“I just can’t imagine how LOVELY that must be! How wonderful for you to have landed a man who lets you do that! He just works all day and supports you and your kids and you aren’t even LOOKING for work?”

“It’s just what he-”

“I NEVER had that luxury when my kids were young, Tess! I always had to work. My goodness! Surely there must be SOMETHING you could do with all that free time you have, help out a little, maybe a part time job at the grocery store. Can’t you even manage that much?”

“I could but-”

“Well you are just SO LUCKY! I would be bored myself but to each their own I suppose! It’s none of MY business, obviously, but aren’t you worried about retirement? Oh nevermind, I shouldn’t ask those things, I just always had to take care of myself, you know!”

She is such a bitch.

For real.

She’s one of those negative, energy-sucking vampire kind of people. *shudder*

Anyway. Not even she could have ruined my week. We had stuff to do.

We took the kids to a museum and got to walk through the Titanic exhibit. That was way cool. It was very sobering and by the end of it, standing at the wall reading the names, and seeing the sheer numbers, of those who were lost, I was blinking back tears.

So from there, and to help lighten the mood, we walked through the butterfly room. You cannot stand in a room swarming with beautiful butterflies that land on your fingers and head and be melancholy. You just cannot. And some of them were huge! Like paper-thin birds they were. It was awesome.

We took the kids out to eat at Cracker Barrel and then shopping at their favorite stores (Spencers and Hot Topic), places that aren’t available here in the sticks, and then dropped them off where they were going before heading home.

Where we were all alone.

For days.

But I’ll have to talk about that later.

I have to do our taxes today.

What? It’s not the 15th yet. Hush. I have time.

I guess if anything is going to ruin the lingering magic of last week, it’ll be the stupid IRS.

Bah.

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The BDSM Gods…

…are smiling upon us.

After working another 14 day stretch of 12 hour workdays, Master decided he was taking all this next week off. Starting tomorrow through to next Monday morning, he’s all mine.

So, tomorrow morning we’re taking off to attend a family deal and then we’re, hopefully, dropping the chitlins off at friends’ houses for about 4 days of alone time. (Please to be sending us all of your good Kid-Be-Gone juju)

In those 4 days of no-kids and no-work, there will be lots ‘o’ hurtin and fuckin. Master willing.

Maybe even a play party should anyone want to come over. I promise to do better with the living room curtain and not shoot broken clothespins from my white trash sheet-curtain at you.

Mayhaps I NEED to go shopping, Master! :-)

Anyway, so I’m a tad distracted and not up for deep thinking (cuz I’m stooopid! hahaha!) because good times are on the horizon. Impatience is my middle name. (Not really. My middle name is Marie. But Impatience would be a pretty one, huh?)

Of course I have a nasty bug settling in my chest that is making me try and hack up phlegm that isn’t there yet. Last week Master was at the doc getting himself a z-pac for his own germies and though I tried to tell him that he really needn’t share everything with me, he ever-so-generously squirted his germs down my throat by way of his cock. Gotta love him.

I’m hoping that I’ll be done hacking before we get to the good stuff or else I’ll be coughing instead of counting.

And my knee hurts. Too much time on my knees for these old bones. *nods* I’m falling apart. I gave Master permission to trade me in for a newer model. He’ll be taking applications if anyone is so inclined. Line starts to the right.

We had a dinner guest again last night. I’m kind of starting to enjoy having dinner guests. I didn’t realize how informal our family dinners had gotten until I started trying to do Master proud by fancying up the table and the service. Not that I do anything spectacular, these guests are work mates, not bdsm fellas, but no matter. It’s fun and Master gives me lots of pets and praises for it. I even talk to them and don’t cower in the corner like they’re going to bite me like I used to.

I made chicken lasagna, garlic bread and a nice side salad, with strawberry cake and coffee for dessert. It were the nom.

We eat a lot of chicken. Have I shared anything other than a chicken recipe? No wonder the kids groan when they ask whats for dinner and I say chicken. Huh.

Well. Whatever. They always eat it.

We always eat dinner together as a family. That’s important to me. We sit at the table and the tv and cell phones are off, and we talk. Sometimes the conversation gets a tad rowdy- we’re an extremely off-color family and telling tasteless jokes is our specialty. Laughing so hard that kool-aid comes out a nose is considered a success in my book.

Though sometimes Master takes his food and eats elsewhere. I dunno. Maybe we’re too much on days when he needs quiet. We try not to take it personal but, we do. Meh. Obviously he’s not obligated to always find our squeals and stories to be good entertainment.

Anyway! Dang, didn’t mean to get so serious!

The other night, Friday I guess it was, Master got called into work at around 8pm or so. A couple of hours later, I’d just taken shower and was in my jammies and in bed when he called. He said he had gotten a flat tire on his way home, was about 10 miles down the road and that I needed to get in the car and drive down to where he was.

So I got up and went, without really thinking about it. Until I’d been there awhile, standing out in the nasty, biting wind in my jams, with my wet hair flying all over, freezing my ASS off, and realized that I had absolutely no purpose for being there whatsoever.

None.

Zero.

He had the jack and spare with him. He changed the tire without needing my help.

He wanted me there and because he gets to decide these things, I was there.

I just wondered what a typical vanilla wife would have done or said in that situation.

“You want me to get out of bed and come and *watch* you change a flat tire in the middle of the night??”

“Call AAA, numbnuts.” (I seriously don’t know why Master didn’t call AAA actually. These things are not for me to know I guess.)

“Fuck off, I’m sleeping!”

Or some other variant of how I think the nilla’s interact with each other. I don’t rightly know, to be honest. They’ve sort of become a whole ‘nother perplexing species to me.

Those are certainly the replies that would have been passed around the break table when I was working, that’s for sure.

Anyway, we got home and went to bed. That was really about it. lol

Umm.. I had more but I forgot what it was. Did I mention we’re getting rid of the kids and that I’m probably gonna be hurt something fierce? I did.

Scatterbrained.

I probably won’t post for a couple of days. I won’t have internet access until the middle of the week anyway.

Be good!

~cunt

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Perfect Timing

When Master came home from work, he said he wanted to fuck.

I’m finding that there is an internal competition between being Master’s chef and being Master’s slut. He prioritizes sex over cooking and I’m doing the opposite. At least, *while* I’m cooking I’m placing sex at the bottom, I don’t *always* place sex at the bottom.

But I don’t think he EVER places sex at the bottom.

I bit back the “But I’m cooking!” protest and simply said that there were just 26 minutes before the oven timer went off. I offered it, not as an excuse, but as pertinent information that he could do with what he wanted. Generally, an hour is considered a “quickie” for him, but, he could decide that we’d eat burnt casserole if he so chose, I merely put the info out there.

He nodded, grabbed my hand and dragged me into the office, shoved me under the desk and proceeded to start fucking me.

I damn near chewed my lips off while I was under there as I sensed the minutes ticking by. Altruistic as my initial intent had been, I didn’t think he’d choose to let dinner burn. I started mentally sifting through the cupboards for what else we might have that could be quickly thrown together and still qualify as a meal, something gourmet, like, PB&J and Doritos.

I felt a little butt-hurt, telling myself that he must not appreciate my hard work in the kitchen! I hated (not for the first time) those stupid, perfect skinny bitches that I could hear doing their stupid fake moaning in the porn he was watching while I was squished under the desk (where it smelled like feet, I might add), having my face rubbed into the carpet (doesn’t THAT help the complexion. Not!) with my knees aching-

I was pretty much being a sulky, petulant cunt. My only saving grace being that he didn’t know it. My descent into disgraceful, unslavelike thoughts is (mostly) kept to myself because one of the advantages for me to being under the desk is that he can’t see or hear me.

Of course one of the advantages for HIM is that he can’t see or hear me, either. Do not think that has escaped me. (Gives Master the stink eye)

Though I think not having to see or hear me is the purpose rather than a handy side effect. (More stink eye)

But I digress.

Anyway, I did manage to pull my head out of my ass and rearrange my thought pattern. I haven’t forgotten my recent determination to be better, it just took me a minute. (Jes is, apparently, not the only member of this house who suffers from Entitlement Syndrome)

What I ultimately did was remember Kitten’s “Foolproof Method for Success in Slavery”. I shut up (in my head). I listened to what HE said he wanted (which, at that particular moment, was not the perfectly cooked casserole but the perfectly willing fucktoy). And I did what he said (which was to cock my ass, stay wet, stay still, and let him enjoy himself).

Which, he did. He enjoyed. Even I enjoyed, once I stopped being a bitch.

To top it all off, and what prompted the title I chose for this post- He yanked me out by my hair, shoved his dick in my mouth and climaxed down my throat precisely as the oven timer beeped.

Is he good or what??

:-)

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I Suppose

I should update this thing.

I know I promised you some porn a couple days ago. Sorry. I suddenly got very greedy with my porn and didn’t want to share!

Actually, all I was going to do was direct you to the Free Hardcore Gallery offered by Kink.com. I was going to pretty it all up with enticing photos and whatnot, but, meh. I’m lazy and you can click.

There are terrific still shots and some video clips. They are short, teaser clips but you can’t complain about free shit! I don’t know about the rest of you but in this recession, anything free is worth checking out. That goes double if it’s free porn, and it goes triple if it’s Kink.com’s free porn.

The recession, however, hasn’t yet kept me away from The Training of O. I just don’t think there are many sites that come close to matching O for bdsm porn.

Except for Paintoy. Dude, if you’ve never checked them out, you have to. For real. WAY worth it. Alebeard and Dru haunt my bdsm nightmares.

There. I’ve delivered porn. :-)

~~*~~

I’m starting to slide into a disgruntled state of mind that, if any of you could be so kind as to kick me in the ass so I get out of it, I’d be most appreciative.

It’s not only not an appropriate attitude to carry around, it’s just not fair to him to even feel it.

Of course, rational thought does shit-all to kick it to the curb apparently, because instead of keeping it at bay, it’s only growing day by day.

What I keep thinking is that it just doesn’t pay to even work at trying to rekindle the desires when ain’t nothing going to happen. All of that resurgence of masochistic need that broke through has done nothing but awaken desires I’d successfully squashed and I’d prefer not to want what I can’t have when I can just not want anything at all.

One way is dead.. the other way is angsty and irritable and unfulfilled. Given a choice, dead is easier.

It’s just not fair to HIM to be so grumpy about it. He’s working really long, hard hours right now. He’s out the door at 6am, he’s home at 6pm, he eats and goes to bed. Repeats it the next day. And the next. And the next… wash, rinse, repeat. He hardly wants to have vanilla sex let alone anything more involved.

When he does get a day off, he’s trying to recover. Even if he weren’t drained, the opportunity isn’t here anyway.

So. Not fair, not appropriate. Needs to be squashed. I regret that I let it consume me. I know better.

Anyone volunteer to kick me and set me straight?

~~*~~

I’ve been having a ball on FetLife lately though. I really enjoy the people I’m “hanging” with on there. Our sense of humor is similar to one another and we do nothing but egg each other on. It’s way fun.

~~*~~

The snow is melting *finally*. It’s melted enough that I’ve discovered Christmas decorations that I forgot were out there. That was just too funny. I kept peering out the window over the course of a couple of days going, wtf is that red thing in the yard?! Someone threw trash in our yard, the bastards! Wait. Is that a..? That looks like an ornament! Who the heck would throw an ornament in our yar… Oh. Oh wait. That’s mine. Nevermind.

Still out there too. I already packed away the Christmas stuff. I am not even digging it all out again. I figure if I didn’t miss it when I was putting the stuff away, I must not love it very much so… fuck it. Hello, trash day.

The melted snow has also revealed a winter’s worth of frozen dog turds, which, I have to admit, has done a lot toward healing my heart from the loss of Sutter. I will not miss poop scooping one little tiny bit!

~~*~~

Last but not least- It’s a girl. :-)

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Titles are so last year!

Master is working this weekend (boo) so I have nothing but time on my hands. I’m gonna fill up on some memes, some pointless babbling, and then, later, (today or tomorrow) I’m gonna shoot y’all some porn (and it’s not me! Another boo!).

I think we need to make some porn though. After watching some of what I’m going to show you later, I’m feeling quite neglected and horny and very much like stomping my feet and demanding that he “play with meee! Wah!” Not that that works or anything but that’s how I feel. I ain’t gonna lie.

Yesterday, I had a big resurgence of masochism. It’s been pretty low-key, as I’ve shared here, almost to the point of Do-Not-Wantism rather than masochism. But yesterday it all kind of bubbled up to the surface and now it’s just slowly simmering. I haven’t had this itchy, twitchy feeling in my panties in a looooong time. It feels kinda weird actually.

What was the big event that sparked the masochism tango in my spankies? Hee. I’ll tell ya!

I was making dinner. Roasted red pepper, asparagus and mozzarella cheese stuffed chicken breast with fettucini alfredo on the side. Wanna see?? It was uber-yummy!

First, you pound out some chicken breasts. I sprinkled them with an Italian seasoning/parmesan cheese/chives mixture on both sides. Then add in a couple of asparagus spears, a pepper slice and some mozz. cheese. Roll up, stab with some toothpicks to hold it together, drizzle with olive oil and bake at 350F for, oh, 20-30 minutes or until done.

Here’s the precooked look.

Here’s the finished look.

It was so nummy. But I digress. Enough of the noms.

So I was standing at the counter, pounding out the chicken breasts, right? And, you know, I was all alone and, admittedly, I’m getting a little stir crazy, a little cabin fever taking root as winter never ends up here in No Man’s Land, and I talk to myself. In LOLCat language. I guess maybe I figure my cats can understand me if I speak in their native tongue. That way I’m not really talking to myself. I’m talking to *them*.

They do look at me like I’m insane so they could be listening!

Hush.

Anyway, the cats are terrified, either because I’m talking to them or because I’m rattling the windows with my earnest meat flattening, hard to say really, and it amused me that they were all poofed up and hunkered down and wild eyed, stalking around the house trying to flush out the enemy. So I started brandishing the meat tenderizer at them and going, “Ahh! I are teh skeery meat lady!” *Slam!* “I will beat you with my skeery hammeh!” *Wham!*

I’m beating the bloody hell out of the chicken breasts. “I are teh Chicken Boob Sadist! I will mangle your titties! Grrrs!” *BamBamBam!*

And then I held up my little wooden meat tenderizer and I thought, now why in the HELL is this neat-o toy NOT IN THE TOYBOX!?!?!

Just like that, I bubbled. Yep. Bubbled over with masochistic need.

This?

Will be in the toybox. And I will have my breasts tenderized. Probably not quite as mangled as I did that poor chicken, but close. I hope.

I has needs!

Dinner was good though. Really. ;-)

~~*~~

Speaking of the cats, Loverboy (orange kitty) has been acting up the last few days. He wanders around the house yowling (and he’s fixed so no chance of being randy), and we call him over and he comes and lets us pet him for a second and then he resumes his prowling and yowling.

He tore the shit out of Am’s lunchbag. Like, shredded it. He dumped over the water dish. He paces up and down the stairs, to the bird channel window, to the door, to the bedroom, to the food dish but doesn’t eat, to the bathroom, in and out of the cupboards, back to the stairs…

I think he’s looking for Sutter. :-(

~~*~~

I was tagged! By TakenByLovely.

List five songs you’re REALLY into right now and then tag 5 more people:

1. Single Ladies- Beyonce. (It’s not the song so much, other than that it gets stuck in my head, but the video! All that ass-shaking and air humping, my eyes become glued to the screen.)

2. I’m Yours- Jason Mraz (for the same reason that I like that Hawaiin dude’s version of Over the Rainbow.)

3. I’ve Been Loving You Too Long- Otis Redding (this is a crap video but I can’t find a good one. Love this song though. One of my all-time favorites ever.)

4. Pretty Pink Rose- Ashton Allen (I don’t think this song is very popular. I had to upload it myself to get in on youtube, and though it says it’s like 7 minutes long, the song is the usual length of 3 and a half minutes or so. The rest of the time is dead air. I dunno why nor do I care enough to fix it. I really can’t say why this song appeals to me. Just.. the melody, the smoothness of his voice. I dunno. It just do!)

5. Oh, Darlin’- Robin Gibb. (Again, not the best video. Just, yanno, don’t look at him. Just listen.)

I tag everyone. 5 times.

~~*~~

The Controversial Survey

Would you do meth if it was legalized?
I would not.

Abortion: for or against?
Against.

Would our country fall with a woman president?
Yep.

Do you believe in the death penalty?
Yes. But I think the cases it’s used in should be absolute.

Do you wish marijuana would be legalized already?
No.

Do you believe in God?
No.

Do you think same sex marriage should be legalized?
Yes already. Preferable before my daughter is in love and of legal age to marry.

Do you think its wrong that so many Hispanics are moving to the USA?
No, not wrong. I wish they’d do it legally though.

A 12 year old girl has a baby..should she keep it?
I guess that depends on her parents, as they’ll be the ones raising it and paying for it. But, yes, if she wants it, she should keep it.

Should the alcohol age be lowered to 18?
Well, I think that either the legal adult age needs to be raised to 21 or the drinking age lowered to 18. Preferable, raise the adult age. But the spread between the two makes little sense to me.

Should the war in Iraq be called off?
Before it even started actually.

Assisted suicide is illegal..do you agree?
No.

Do you believe in spanking children?
I do, but with lots of qualifiers. The childs age, how it’s done, what it’s done with- that sort of thing. I don’t necessarily think that physical punishment is the answer for every mistake, but when you need to make a point pretty quickly, a swat on the ass can sometimes shock them into listening better.

Would you burn an American flag for a million dollars?
I probably would do just about anything for a million dollars, though if I did this one, I’d have to be prepared to be disowned by both Master and my dad. Soooo… No. I wouldn’t.

A mother is declared innocent after murdering her 5 children in a temporary insanity case, Do you agree?
I agree with the defense of temporary insanity in some cases, however, I don’t agree with that equalling getting off punishment free. If not life in prison, then life in a mental institution. Whatever.

Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers?
I am not afraid of it, no.

~~*~~

Amusing (to me) story:

Master, and the rest of us but Master started it, likes to snack on peanuts. So we buy them in these big ginormous bags from Menards. But we’re dorks, right, so we don’t call them peanuts. We call them penis.

As in: Hey, anyone want some penis?

And: Who took the bowl of penis??!

And: Am, they’re gonna kick you out of the Lesbian Club if you keep sucking on penis.

In the store: I found the penis! Penis over here! Penis in aisle 3!

And: I could really sink my teeth into some penis right about now. *nom nom nom*

Hee. Anyway, it’s become stupidly normal to call peanuts penis, we all do it without even thinking about. So last weekend, Am had a friend over and they were sitting at the table working on a homework project. I walked into the living room and the coffee table was a damn mess. Peanut parts scattered all over!

So I holler through the house, “Who in the hell left penis tracks all over the damn coffee table!?”

Am answers back, “The cats were playing in the penis and tracked it all over, Mom.”

And this poor girl (snicker) gets this terrified expression on her face, her mouth drops open, and she’s looking back and forth from me to Am to me to Am and she whispers to Am, “Did your mom just ask you about putting a PENIS on the coffee table??”

We cracked UP. Omg. Freakin’ hilarious. And she’s just staring at us like we’re fucking crazy. Took a few minutes to explain the whole penis-peanut connection and then she was fine, but oh lordy, I forget that not everyone is as weird as we are.

And it isn’t that she was offended that we say penis. She’s 17 and I’ve been with her and her mother and I know they talk about penis, too. It was just the context of it I guess.

Too funny.

Well. Anyway. This is the longest bullshit post in the history of ever so I’m done now. :D

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Sex is always the answer, it’s never a question.

Yesterday I met up with a couple of other small s-type girls for lunch. It’s really a lot of fun and I relate to this group of women so well that, literally, hours and hours pass before I know it and then I’m scrambling to get home. I didn’t get home yesterday until almost 4:30 in the afternoon! Yikes. Good thing I did chores in the morning and had dinner in the crock pot.

(Pat myself on the back for good planning. Good job, kaya! :D )

Anyway, one of the conversation questions was “What would you like to have happened in your life within the next year?” and my answer was that I would like to have the protocols and BDSM stuff become a higher priority than what they have been lately. I said that the line between being a normal vanilla wife and being a slave gets awful blurry awfully quickly.

It’s just all too easy to become complacent within our M/s relationship when we focus more on trying to avoid some of the curveballs life throws at us. Maintaining M/s to the level that we both prefer it takes work. Real work. Maintaining normalcy doesn’t. Or doesn’t seem to when compared to the other, I guess.

(And of course, even as I sit here talking about feeling like a vanilla wife, I can’t help but think of just how much of my day to day life would feel incredibly non-vanilla to a vanilla. But that’s not my topic today.)

As I was saying, I had said that I would like to have bdsm practices become more commonplace. I had also mentioned that in thinking that, I had to acknowledge that I could be more proactive myself. That I tend to fall back on thinking that, oh, he’s the leader and I’m the follower so I should just sit and gather dust while I wait for him to lead- when the truth is I should not be absolved of the work portion of keeping things high on the priority list. That I can’t fault him for not doing it if I’m not doing it either.

I don’t mean to make it sound like we’re wallowing in vanilla territory because it’s not that either. There are a myriad of things that happen throughout the day, and he does pay attention to things, and it’s not all bleak and dreary at ALL. But there are definitely areas that could use improvement and I was acknowledging that, in some cases, that improvement could start with ME, within myself, my attitude and my approach rather than taking the lazy way out and excusing myself because HE didn’t do this or say that or whatever.

Make sense?

No? lol. Too bad.

So yesterday evening, shortly after Master came home from work (which was shortly after *I* got home!), he started making sexual advances at me. And this is one area that we both know needs improvement. Sex.

Not the sex itself. He’s phenomenal in the sack and dammit, I am one lucky whore in that respect. What’s been off lately is the timing. Somehow, our timing together got totally screwed. Not only that, but the fact that his advances are coming at what I consider a “bad time” for me even factors in is totally whacked.

Part of it certainly is my continued lack of libido, which I am fairly convinced now is directly related to our lack of play. Because the fact is, when we do play, I get hornier than a two-peckered billy goat so I know it’s *there*, it’s just not getting “fed” as it used to. I don’t really worry about anymore because knowing it’s there and just a little starved right now is a pretty big comfort. I am not becoming non-sexual, I’m just hungry. Good enough.

So, having a lower desire means that when he wants to “do it” at odd times of the day, I’m more prone to try and weasel out of it. If I know it’s going to be just a wham-bam, or under the desk (I’m seriously hating that right now. Like, you don’t even know.) AND I have no desire for it? I’m just all… blah… and “do I hafta??” which, as you can imagine, isn’t conducive to creating happy-horny feelings for him.

Now, if we’re getting into bed and it’s going to be a good fuck with no pressing concerns like kids asking for homework help or dinner burning on the stove or whatever, then even though I still have a low desire, I’m less likely to try and excuse my way out of it.

Unfortunately, Master tends to be sleepy-tired by the time we get to bed and HE doesn’t want to do it then. He wants to fuck when he’s horny and has the energy. Like, when he gets home from work.

So, needless to say, it’s been kind of a hit and miss, with some mutual but understood frustration on both of our parts.

My frustration has been blanketed with some hella heavy guilt, too, though. I’m supposed to be the sex slave here, yanno? Oy.

Anyway, so after the conversation at lunch, and then he comes home and starts smooching on me and eyeing the bedroom, and then he asks me what I’m doing and says let’s go fuck.

Seriously, and this is so fucking sad- I gave him a rueful smile and pointed to the kitchen. “I can’t. I’m cooking.” which I was honestly doing, and to back up my words, right as I said that, the oven timer dinged. As I walked away, I jokingly quipped over my shoulder “Excuse me while I go tend to the real master of the house- the stove.”

He didn’t say anything. I mean, this is the norm around here lately. Unless I’m really NOT doing anything, somehow his needs have fallen to the bottom of the priority list. I just can’t fathom how cooking or homework or *whatever* started trumping his dick.

So I go into the kitchen and check on the biscuits. They aren’t quite done yet so I reset the timer for another 2 minutes and I’m standing there thinking. The conversation at lunch is echoing in my head, along with his quiet acceptance of me having walked away and it’s bothering me. Like, bothering me a LOT. And I just keep thinking, be proactive, cunt. THIS is not proactive. THIS is lazy. This is shameful. This is NOT slavery or bdsm. This is what you say you don’t want, yet this is what you DO?? Get with the program, woman!

I kind of look around the house a bit. B-man is in his room playing video games and probably won’t come out until I drag him out. Am had fallen asleep on the couch and probably wouldn’t wake up until I poked her. Jes is gone still. So what uber-important thing am I doing here? What is the worst that will happen? We’ll have cold biscuits for dinner. That’s what is keeping me from going and servicing my Master’s cock?? Srsly, cunt?

Let’s see. If I were him and my cock was twitching and I had a supposed sex slave who, ideally, is to service that cock whenever it twitches and instead she’s decided that watching biscuits brown is more important?? Uh… mayhaps there needs to be a lesson given about priorities. Or.. maybe that lesson should already be known and the next lesson is giving up.

Sad thoughts, yeah? Sobering thoughts.

But this is how we grow, right? I mean, I like to think that being brutally honest with myself about my failures means something.

I guess the real test is what I ultimately end up doing with these realizations. Not just for one day, but every day.

Well, I’m happy to report that we had cold biscuits for dinner. Onward and upward, Christian soldier!

~cunt

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Gratitude. I has it.

Thanks guys. Your words have been a great comfort to me over the last day or two. I know I shouldn’t need to hear that I’m doing the right thing but… I do.

I have my mother and my daughter trying desperately hard to convince me that I’m NOT “doing it right” and then I start feeling guilty and start doubting myself – and that’s the cycle we’ve been in throughout Jes’s formative years.

I was surprised really, to hear that not many do the allowance thing though! I thought it was more common than that (even though I never had one and neither did Master).

The allowance was something we wanted to try, more as an experiment between us, in an attempt to come to some sort of compromise over money/kid issues. When I became a non-money earning partner, while I was okay with giving up the “right” to buy myself mascara when I wanted some or whatever, I was not (am not) willing to make that same sacrifice on behalf of the kids.

But then I’m rather sensitive to making sure that my decisions to be submissive do not become their decisions, as well as making sure that Master’s dominance and control over me does not extend to them – beyond the normal parenting stuff of course (and even at that, sometimes the lines blur in my head – but that’s a different entry).

So we thought we would try it and obviously it didn’t work. *shrug*

I haven’t talked much with Jes since she left, but I have argued with my mother. That’s a nice little bonus. Jes has always been the “chosen child” when it comes to my mother so I didn’t expect anything less, it’s just too bad because my parents and I had finally come to a fairly peaceful place and now that’s on shaky ground again.

Well. Anyway-

I just wanted to say thanks. Again. You’re all back on the Christmas card list. ;-)

~cunt

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Q&A-3 and then some.

(I’m super creative with the titles, huh? :D )

What are your favorite types of books to read? I know your selection is slightly limited, but not so much that there isn’t variety (I’m assuming).

Definitely horror fiction. Stephen King, Dean Koontz. I like John Grisham, too, but sometimes the law detail gets tedious. Almost anything long that will take me more than a day to finish, but I cannot get into things like Little Women or anything set back in that time period or very flowery-ish. I also won’t waste my time trying to plow through the supposed literary greats, like The Odyssey or Shakespeare.

Have I explained the “Rule of Ages and Pages”? No? Well come on then!

When you’re starting a new book and you’re having trouble getting into it, you read the number of pages that equals one hundred minus your age before you decide it’s too boring to finish. So I have to read 62 pages (100-38=62) before I can give up on a book.

An elderly lady I used to care for who loved to read explained this rule to me. She had to read something like 10 pages..lol. She said the older you get, the less time you have to waste on trying to muddle through a boring read. She was a darling.

Any Stephen King you haven’t read? Which is your favorite? (He’s my favorite author, too).

I have not read that tower series (whatever it’s called). I’ve tried to, on a couple of different occasions, but it seems to be much closer to science fiction than I like (I hate science fiction. Master loves it. My biggest fear is that he’s going to start making me read his books. Blugh.).

I haven’t read the non-fiction books he published either. And I thought this last book of short stories he put out was crap.

My favorite by him is The Stand, for sure. The Talisman, It, The Shining – I hate his movies though. HATE them.

I’m turning the kids into little Stephen King groupies, too. Jes read The Stand a few weeks ago. B-man is reading Night Shift right now and Am just finished it. She didn’t like Salem’s Lot though, which surprised me because she’s all into vampire books. But Salem’s Lot is a far cry different than Twilight..lol

Any parenting regrets? Things that, if you could turn back time, you’d do differently?

Only about a million. Some big, some little.

On good days I can tell myself that everything that has happened has shaped who they are today and I love who they are today.

On bad days I tell myself that everything that has happened has shaped who they are today and it’s all my fault they are who they are.

Mommy-guilt is a constant presence in my life. I love my kids but I’ve made lots of mistakes. Lots.

What’s your favorite thing to grow in a garden?

Cucumbers and squash and tomotoes and green beans top the list. Probably because they are hardy and easy to grow and you get a lot of return for your effort.

Carrots and onions are in the middle. Carrots are difficult. I never thin them out enough because it seems like I’m picking all of the seedlings out and then I get impatient and pull them up too soon because I can’t see what they’re doing under there! Same with onions really, though last year I got a lot of onions and they stored really well and we used them for a long time.

Lettuce is at the bottom. I haven’t yet found a seed for lettuce that I really like, it grows like *crazy*, and a lot of it goes to waste because I don’t want to eat lettuce 200 times a day. My kids like salads but only iceberg lettuce and this stuff we grow is leafy lettuce – which gets bitter if you don’t pick it at the right time and eat it right away and blah blah blah.

I want to add broccoli and cauliflower this year. I’d like to try potatoes but I hear so many conflicting opinions on whether or not it’s worth the time and garden space for what little you get. And I really wanna do corn but I’m not sure the growing season is long enough up here.

Thanks! :-)

~~*~~

Well, Master is working this weekend again. This is like, day 14 in a row of 12 to 14 hour days. I hate that he’s working so hard. Poor guy is exhausted.

Today, I have to go into town. Am has some birthday money and she wants to get her tongue pierced. I had mine done and – it hurt. But I’m not having any luck discouraging her from doing it. She said it can’t hurt any worse than getting her industrial done and I’ve never had one of those so I don’t know. She’s a nut.

Jes wants to get a haircut. Oh man – Jes was away for about two weeks, she came home last night and she went from having a cute little tummy bump to looking like an unmistakenly pregnant girl. I’m suspicious of her due date now. (One of the questions was for a new picture so I’ll try and get one today)

Mostly I’m going in to go to the grocery store. Master’s bringing his crew back here for dinner after work tonight and I don’t have nearly enough food for them. He had them over one night last week, too.

The good news is they won’t stay late. They are all burned out on working so much so they’ll eat, sit at the table and drink a couple of beers, fart, and head back to their hotels. (Good times. Srsly. Men, beer and farting while I wash dishes. Slave much?)

Cooking for 7 or 8 oversized, hungry, hard working men-folk makes me hella nervous. I’m already jittering. He invites them over because they are all here doing what he used to do: traveling. They’ve been in Michigan for a couple of weeks now and it’s hotel rooms and eating fast food for 3 meals a day. He hated it when he had to do it so he seems to think they appreciate a home-cooked meal and a chance to sit and yak outside of working.

Personally, I’d rather eat out than eat my cooking, but what do I know?

Anyway, when they were here last week, I had mentioned to one of the guys that I found a new recipe for chicken enchiladas but that it was way more complicated than the enchilada dish I usually hauled into the shop for them. So of course that’s what he wants to have.

Oy vey. I better get busy. Ain’t accomplishing shit sitting on my ass right here!

Recipe behind the cut if anyone is interested. Any suggestions for what to serve with it??

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Oppression is in the eye of the oppressed?

I’m still reading along over at Nine Deuce’s place. I thought it was decent that she’d posted a somewhat more reasonable explanatory post, but I was glad to see she’s getting it with both barrels by pro-bdsm bloggers, too.

And, I found it pretty ironic that she got all butt-hurt over an insult when she’s so insulting herself. But that’s not very nice of me. *snickering behind my hand*

However, what I want to talk about is the current, rather interesting conversation going on over there, that is, so far as I can tell, remaining polite and adult-like.

There are a lot of comparisons being made between being kinky and being homosexual. Chiefly, trying to equate the oppression of homosexuals with the (supposed) oppression of BDSMers.

There are certainly some correlations, I think. But I’m not sure it’s anywhere near the same.

Unless you happen to be both homosexual *and* kinky. Double whammy?

So homosexuals are fighting for their rights. Basic rights equal to the rights of straight people. The right to marriage, the right to adopt or raise their own child, the right to secured employment, the right to live in peace – and whatever else they are fighting for (I don’t want the focus to be on gay rights).

But what right, exactly, are BDSMers fighting for? What are we denied?

I think it IS true that there are severe injustices surrounding the kink world. I think there are people who are prosecuted who shouldn’t be, I think people get fired for no other reason than being kinky, I think people lose custody of their kids for no other reason than being kinky. I think people hide who they are, I think they feel shame and embarrassment, I think kinky people are prone to depressions and disorders, quite possibly due to feeling shunned society.

But does that equal oppression? In the same way that homosexuals are oppressed? Does it matter that it’s perhaps not as bad, does it have to be the same to be a valid complaint?

Would it be accurate to say that homosexuals are not nearly as oppressed as black people were (are)? Therefore, they cannot stake a claim on oppression either?

I do see a connection in the language being used though. For sure. How those people over there are talking about bdsm and our sexual practices is almost word for word how people talked about homosexuality. The same insults, the same spoken fears, the same suspicions. And I think that’s more than a little scary, to be honest.

I’ve been asking myself when it comes to my kinky self, what right would I fight for or what discrimination would I wish to end, if I could change anything.

I’m not forbidden from marrying my partner. I’m not worried that holding my partner’s hand in public will be cause to get my ass kicked. I’m not disallowed to be on my partner’s health insurance or from entering his ICU room.

We are recognized as a couple by society, recognized as a family by society. We’re accepted as a couple by friends and family.

We can go to his company Christmas party without raising an eyebrow or jeapordizing his job. He has a picture of me on his desk and introduces me as his wife.

It’s very mainstream. Very accepted. So what would I fight for? What is the basis for a claim of oppression?

Because there is no denying that we hide things, that we feel like we’re forced to put on an act for people, that we aren’t being true to ourselves unless we’re safely shut in behind closed doors.

I have no interest in some of the more in-your-face performances that other people might be fighting for. We don’t find it appropriate, even if it were widely accepted, to stroll around in a collar and leash or sit at his feet on the floor in a restaurant.

I don’t want to wear nipple clamps down Main Street. (As one comment said over at ND’s place)

I guess I’d fight for simple acceptance. I guess I’d like to not have to see the smirk on the waitress’s face when I turn to ask Master what I can order. I’d like to not have to hem and haw to vanilla acquaintances to stall for time to ask permission. I’d like to not have to lie when his answer is no.

I could do without being sneered at when I tell the cashier that she’ll have to ask my husband when she offers to sign me up for a store credit card.

I’d like to think that should Master be spotted at a kink event, his job is secure.

I’d like to not stumble over what to call him as we crisscross between the kink world and the vanilla world.

One world would be sweet, wouldn’t it?

So what say you on the idea that BDSMers are oppressed? Does that theory hold water for you?

The other debate going on over there is whether or not kink is an orientation or a choice.

My feeling is it can be both. It depends on the individual.

I believe that for some people it is a choice to be kinky, just as some people choose to be homosexual. I don’t think that’s equal to “faking it”, not at all. But I think it is a choice. They can find satisfaction and happiness making either choice. They can have functional and healthy relationships being straight or with a member of the same sex, and they can do the same when engaging in kink or when living completely vanilla.

I think for others it’s an orientation. I believe submission or dominance can be a person’s sexual orientation, just as homosexuality is other’s orientation. It’s not a choice and there isn’t the option of living fully when choosing a different lifestyle.

I’m not sure the people arguing over there quite comprehend that. They seem to believe that we’re choosing to be kinky and choosing to engage in these activities when we could just as easily choose not to.

They appear to see it as a question of logic and morals more so than a matter of orientation and being “wired” for it.

And really, this is where I begin to compare BDSM to homosexuality. If they can grasp the concepts of homosexuality, I’m hopeful they can grasp BDSM in that same way. But each time we try and go there, the homosexuals stand up and start screaming to stop equating their orientation with our sick, perverted choices.

We’re defiling the beauty of homosexuality, we’re belittling their battles, we’re trying to ride their coattails.

So what do you think? Do you think BDSMers are oppressed? Do you think we have anything to fight *for* or do you think we’re fighting for the sake of fighting?

Also, what are your thoughts on kink being a choice or an orientation?

Is there any merit in trying to get people to see being gay and being kinky as the same thing and therefore, worthy of the same acceptance?

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You can’t always get what you want….

So. No spanking. Yet anyway.

And don’t you know when it can happen, I won’t want it anymore.

Story of my life.

Can I just whine for a bit? (which would be different from any other day how, right?) (shut up, ya big meanie-head)

Master is working stupid insane hours right now. He’s up and gone by 6am and not getting home until 6pm (Or later. Saturday night, he came home, was home less than an hour and was called right back out. He got home at like 11pm). Yesterday, he was home for less than an hour and went to bed. No days off.

I told him I’m starting to feel like a widow. Boo-hoo.

I’m trying to remain pleasant and undemanding. I offer myself and my “services” (wink wink nudge nudge) but he’s just too tired. He’s work-eat-sleep, work-eat-sleep, etc. etc.

Though last night, he did wake up long enough to get a sweet little massage when I got in to bed (and two tylenol and then right back to sleep).

I know it’s temporary-ish. These hours aren’t permanent, but they sure suck donkey balls in the meantime.

I just feel so useless I guess. There is only so much house to clean, and even that loses it’s appeal when he’s not around to notice, or not notice for that matter. He’s eating without tasting; last night, not 2 hours after dinner, he asked me if he ate and what it was. He’s practically on autopilot.

It’s not that I require excess amounts of praise and attention, it’s more that I require *him* to function above autopilot myself.

I’m restless without actually wanting to do anything. The more I stay at home, the more I want to stay at home. Even going to the grocery store (which I desperately need to do) seems like a majorly complicated outing. I seriously get sweaty-nervous because I know I’ll have to go alone. Which is all kinds of pathetic, isn’t it?

Don’t answer that. I already know.

I adapt way too easily to being a hermit. Isolation soothes me. I’m anxious to get outside and work. We moved here fairly late in the outdoor weather season and were too busy with the house to worry about the yard, but there is a LOT of outside clean-up that needs to be done.

We’re going to have to bring in topsoil for a garden and frame it out and fence it in to keep animals out. I still have to research the growing season and what can grow up here. I have a feeling the season is going to be too short for a lot of what I wanted to plant.

We’re also gonna build a chicken coop and raise our own chickens. We’re kicking around the idea of selling eggs, but I don’t know. I’m afraid to get all the chickens, and thus have all the eggs, only to not have anyone who wants to buy them. We’re not exactly in a high traffic area or anything. So we’ll see. Plus, I’m still fretting over thinking that having a chicken coop will attract wild animals too close to the house. (From the DNR website: Approximately 15,000 – 19,000 black bears (including cubs) roam the hardwood and conifer forests of northern Michigan. About 90 percent of the bear live in the Upper Peninsula.) Encouraging, yeah?

I would like to get other animals but Master is a little leary of it. He’s not convinced that it’s cost effective to raise a pig or a cow for slaughter. By the time you factor in feed, building a shelter, slaughter house fees, etc., he thinks it’d be cheaper to just buy the meat. He’s probably right, I just wanna have the animals. Course then I’d fall in love with them and not be able to stomach the idea of slaughter anyway.

So, anywho, standing at the window watching the wind blow and the snow fly when I want to do all that other stuff is frustrating enough. To be alone all day with no interaction from my Man only makes it worse.

I just miss him, is all.

Well, now that I’ve sufficiently whined my way to tears, I’m gonna leave..lol I really really need to hit the grocery store or we aren’t gonna eat today. Or ever.

~cunt

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