Posts tagged: kids

She’ll Be Coming ‘Round The Mountain…

There was nothing major that had to be done, no big epiphanies or anything. I just needed to step back, get some perspective and remember what I’m doing.

The actions haven’t really changed- just the spirit.

And, well, the nagging. That’s changed. :)

Yesterday’s message from the Universe was kind of funny. “Always be grateful for criticism, Tess”. Indeed. I was grateful – later. At the time I was a bit butt-hurt and sulky.

It’s difficult (for me) not to get defensive. I tend to want to justify and excuse rather than listen and take corrective steps. But I’m learning. A criticism from him is not a personal attack.

It just feels like one. :P

Anyway, the kids are keeping me plenty busy, as is Master. I’m sneaking in my Harry Potter obsession while in the bathroom, otherwise I don’t seem to have time to read. (Just finishing up book six right now.)

Am was chosen to go to a creative writing digital storytelling seminar thingie at the university. She had to take a piece that she’d written and choose corresponding pictures to show as she reads it. I was helping her last night with the photos and I was just struck again at how talented she is. Mark my words- someday, she’ll be published.

She’s driving now. Gah. They grow up so fast! She won’t get her license for awhile yet but she has her permit and drives anywhere she and I go. Master is a little leery about getting in the car when she’s at the wheel though. *cough*Chicken shit*cough*

She went to an 80′s themed party over the weekend and I had the best time giving her an 80′s look. I kinda went for the flashdance look- tight leggings, leg warmers, off the shoulder cut-up sweatshirt. But the hair and make-up was ‘teh bomb’. Side ponytail, aqua net bangs, big scrunchy, and the makeup was bright blue eyeshadow clear up to her eyebrows. She was so made of 80′s win.

B-man is going to start taking guitar lessons, which I think is way cool. He’s had a cheap electric guitar for awhile but it’s only been in the last year or so that he’s taken an interest in playing it – and then it broke. So when his birthday rolled around earlier this month and he said he wanted money to save up for a guitar, we started looking around. There’s a place not far from here where we knew there were some second-hand guitars so we mosied on over. Not only does the store owner fix guitars, he also gives lessons and is opening a place for jam sessions and stuff. We got B-man an acoustic guitar for his birthday present and the guy is going to fix B-man’s electric guitar and give him lessons. He’s pretty stoked about it. So am I. :)

Jes is.. well, Jes is Jes.

She’s a hypochondriac (just one among her various problems). Pregnancy has made it worse. Right now she thinks she has the swine flu. She has no symptoms! But that doesn’t matter. She’ll create them.

A couple of years ago she thought she had testicular cancer. So, you know, psychosomatically whipping up symptoms for swine flu will be a piece of cake for her. If you can imagine imaginary tumors in your imaginary testicals, you can imagine yourself a fever I’m sure.

I know it’s not really a joking matter, least of all to her, but if I can’t laugh about it, I’ll cry and I’m so tired of crying.

Every twinge she feels makes her panic. Every cramp, every time the baby isn’t moving enough or is moving too much. She worries about the food she’s eating- No. Lemme rephrase. She doesn’t *worry* about it, she obsesses over it. Is it too close to the expiration date? Is it too much? Is it good for the baby? Is it on her approved list of foods to eat? The doctor said to cut down on caffeine, she won’t touch a can of soda. The doctor said she was dehydrated, she’s practically drowning herself in water.

She is constantly calling the doctor to ask about this pain or that sensation. While down at grandma’s and while visiting the baby-daddy, she carted herself off to the E.R. three different times. THREE. Had she been here where I could monitor things with her and calm her down like I know how to do when she has these manic-panic death-is-looming episodes, she’d not have gone. Soooo.. since she’s getting too far along to be traveling anyway, and since she can’t mentally handle it, she just can’t go anymore.

Other than her mental state, she’s physically doing very well. She’s starting to get uncomfortable- back pain and swollen ankles, etc. She had an ultrasound on Monday and she’s either further along than they thought (by 2 or 3 weeks) or she’s having a big baby. But baby no longer looks like an alien peanut, she actually resembles a human now. She has fingers and toes and everything. I got to watch as she delivered several rather vicious kicks to Jes’s innards which made me giggle madly. I’m sure the tech thought I was the most evil-est grandmother-to-be but she’s never had to live with Jes. ;)

Anyway, that’s about all the excitement I have to share.

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.

Homework Help

Anyone have any ideas on how to make a 3D model of a convergent plate boundary?

(kink blog? what kink blog? I haz no kink!)

“Then you turn your back and they are gone so fast”

B-man is going to a dance after school – with a girl! He has a *date*. He told me I have to buy him a new shirt! He’s worn nothing, literally, but black heavy metal band t-shirts for a year and now he must have a new shirt. For his *date*.

My baby. *sniffle*

I also think he smoked pot but I’m not sure and it’s just one of those nagging mom feelings and I have NO idea what to do about THAT. Of course he says he didn’t but a friend of his got busted by his parents for having some and I just know, I KNOW, if his friend had it while B-man was there – come on, I wasn’t born yesterday! So I told him if I ever catch him with any I’m gonna call the police. I don’t care how harmless everyone thinks it is or that “everyone does it!” (which isn’t true because Master and I don’t!) – it’s still illegal and I can’t just do nothing.. right?

Could/ would any of you turn in your own kid?

Gah! What the hell was I thinking when I had kids? SO much easier when they still wore diapers. Srsly.

I got one trying to be a hoodlum, one having to buck society and be a lesbian (the nerve! hee.) and one turning me into a grandma well before my time.

I honestly did not sign up for this part. I want a do-over.

~~*~~

Speaking of grandma-ism. Check this out:

img_4913

Is that not the most adorable little belly you’ve ever seen?? That’d be my grandbaby in there, kicking the shit outta her ribs. *beams*

~~*~~

Tonight I’m taking Master and Am out for a birthday dinner since we really didn’t do much as a family to celebrate. I’m gonna do the whole ‘loud singing waiters with cake, embarrass ‘em to death in the restaraunt’ gig. So excited. B-man will be with us but I think Jes has other plans.

Tomorrow is Am’s party. We’re hauling them all to the movies to see Coraline(? I think) and then back here for cake and ice cream and presents. And then mucho hours of screaming, squealing girls playing DDR and Rock Band.

The joy. It overwhelms me.

~~*~~

I finally have all of the paperwork I need to get my driver’s license renewed. I think. So today I’ll be doing that – my 3rd attempt, and I swear to GOD if they tell me I’m missing something and send me home again, I’m gonna scream. I have never had this much trouble proving who I am. Somehow I find it hard to believe that the U.P. has such a huge problem with nefarious characters that they need to be *this* ridiculously anal about documentation. This does not appear to be a hotbed of criminal activity. Oy.

On the subject of Michigan, I’ve had the “Mmmbop” song stuck in my head on repeat since August. AUGUST. That’s 6 months of mmmbop. Wanna know why?

Too bad, Imma tell you anyway.

Because there are signs ALL OVER Michigan for the Michigan Dept. of Transportation. Shortened to its initials of course.

The M-DOT.

MMM-DOT.

MMM-BOP.

Listen to it. I dare ya.

:P

Respect My Authoritay!

Authoritay - Word use to show authority but in a bigger more dictatorial way, used by people who have more power over others or people that think they have more power than others. ~ Urban Dictionary

Awhile ago I was going to do an entry about the tv show “Wife Swap” but trashed it. A recent testy discussion over at Fetlife has resurrected my wife swap thoughts.

Wife Swap, if you’ve never watched it, is where they take one family and then find another family that is the exact opposite of everything held near and dear to them and then – duh- swap wives for two weeks.

During the first week, the wife has to live by the rules of the family. In the second week, she changes up all the rules and tries to enforce her way of life on them.

It’s all very dramatic and soap opera-ish, and of course, during the 5 minute follow-up flair, they’ve always learned valuable lessons about themselves and changed for the better – blah, blah, blah.

Many, many, *many* episodes feature a submissive wife (and they even use the word “submissive”) who has to swap with some corporate-climbing, fiercely independent, career woman who would rather eat dog shit than wait on some man.

My daughters, while watching the submissive wife episodes and seeing the dramatic conclusion where the dominant husband “sees the light” and stops expecting his woman to file his toenails, will hassle me about going on the show.

They joke about Master having to get his own drinks or fix his own plate. Even though we’ve (the kids and I) talked many times about it being my choice to serve him that way, etc. etc., it’s become a topic they like to razz me about.

They accept, with some amount of.. distaste, I suppose… that the lifestyle of a submissive woman, this old-fashioned arrangement, is what makes me happy. They also say that it is NOT the path for them.

And it doesn’t have to be. Master and I are not training them for it, nor do we push it on them as a “preferred” or “superior” way of being. It is *for us*, and we live it without shame, but it is not, obviously, for them.

God bless women’s lib. God bless the power of choice.

That is why Wife Swap would fail to make Master “see the light”. In that show, those dominant men and submissive women don’t see it as a choice. In many episodes, they are training their children to emulate their lifestyle. Whether due to religious or moral beliefs, they feel their chosen way of living is the superior one and they *want* their children to copy it. They deny them even the exposure to other options.

Those men believe they are, or should be, dominant over ALL women. Those women believe they should be submissive to ALL men. That that is the Natural Order and anything else is undesirable.

Master and I don’t believe that. We don’t preach that, we don’t think that, we don’t even come *close* to raising our kids with that philosophy.

We believe that it works for us. Specifically for us. He is dominant over me – not over women in general. I am submissive to him – not to men in general.

I will, mostly, respect the dominant position that a male, or a female, has chosen. I will respect it based soley on some imagined (to me) hierarchy in my world. Not to mention that Master himself expects that I respect another’s dominant position, male or female. (But that respect is within reason, which will be further illustrated in this post.)

Master treats dominant women, submissive women (except for me), dominant men and submissive men as his equals. He affords the most gentlemanly courtesy to everyone. He does not think himself “better than” any one of those groups of people.

Master doesn’t resent women in positions of power. He doesn’t have issues working along side, or even under, a female. He doesn’t trash-talk women, he doesn’t disrespect women, he doesn’t find them useless or worthless. (He does think women are lousy drivers, though. Man, that just burns my ass! But that’s another topic for another day.) He doesn’t think they can only function in the kitchen.

Neither do I. I do not think that woman’s lib is to blame for the breakdown of society. I don’t believe that only men can successfully navigate the corporate world. I don’t think my daughters are foolish to dream of better things than housewife drudgery.

Gone are the days when a woman needed a man to survive. Long, long, long gone. That caveman-esque way of life is no longer needed in today’s world. A woman’s only path to fulfillment is not to serve a man. If it ever was!

Probably some of this may sound at odds with other things I’ve said in the past. My views on a female president, for instance, certainly could have been misconstrued as mysoginistic or in support of male power. But as I tried so hard to express in that post, my views and where my comfort level lies are specific to me, and me only. I don’t, because I’m a smart cookie, include anyone else in those views. I don’t even expect anyone to agree with me. I don’t try and convince anyone else that I am right and they are wrong.

And I don’t raise my girls, or my son, to accept my word as gospel. Or to accept my choice as their only option.

We are very different, my girls and I. While my comfort lies in being dominated, in living my life according to the supposed “Natural Order”, while my path to happiness is heavily laden with servitute and submission, I do not think that any other chosen path is “unnatural” or a mistake.

My two girls’ path could be *anything*. My son’s path could be anything. What I make sure they get are options.

Take chores, for instance. In the households on that stupid tv show, the chores are divided up according to girl-chores and boy-chores. They are training their kids to follow that path. The Natural Order path, the path where boys do boy things and girls stay in the house and cook.

I don’t do that here with my kids. There is no differing between boy/girl work. B-man does laundry and dishes, the same as the girls’ do. And the girls can take out the trash and mow the lawn just like a boy.

There is no difference between my expectations from them either – at least not based on gender. I tailor my expectations, and how I relate to them, based on their individual personalities, needs, and wants.

If my son even so much as hints that he “deserves” to be waited on because he’s a boy, I’ll smack him down quicker than shit. Nobody “deserves” anything based solely on the genitalia swinging between your legs.

My girls don’t deserve to be servants merely because of their gender and my son doesn’t deserve to be dominant because of his.

Neither will my son have “squandered away” his supposed birthright to dominance should he choose to be an equal to his mate. There is no birthright to dominance and submission.

There is choice. There is personality. There is personal happiness.

What makes someone dominant? I have no idea. I don’t think it’s a penis and ball sack, but beyond that I really have no opinion. I spent enough time trying to figure out why I was a submissive that I no longer waste the time trying to figure out why anyone else is what they are.

The question that sparked the heated debate over on FL was essentially – “Since the primary role and path to fulfillment for a female is to serve a man”, [...] is it a waste of time (to educate) girls as they are raised?

The question itself, I thought, was ignorant. Quite frankly, it pissed me off. I abhor the very idea of “grooming” children toward a certain path. Denying them exposure and opportunity is, imo, appalling. Absolutely should not be tolerated or condoned or even entertained as semi-acceptable.

(At that point right there, and then further evidenced by subsequent posts from the same OP, that respect that I mentioned earlier that I’m supposed to show another dominant? Gone. No longer required. I have my own (and Master’s) pre-set, pre-defined acceptable standards of dominance, and that just violated all of them. Not only is that dominant no longer my superior, he’s beneath me – in character, in integrity, in values, and frankly, in brains. I will not speak to him like he’s entitled to my submission, I will not offer him niceties or curb my tongue based on his imagined position. I’ll speak to him like the ignorant ass that he is showing himself to be.)

If indeed, one believes in the natural order of things, that men are naturally dominant and women are naturally submissive, if that’s how things naturally occur, then there would be no reason not to educate your children and expose them to other ways of life. Because wouldn’t they “naturally” fall in line with the “natural order”?

I mean, let’s be serious here. I long to have lived in the Victorian era, when women were property, and options were limited and rights didn’t exist. I’d give my left tit to have a society in the present day where one could live outwardly with those principals. But I would never, ever wish that for my child. What makes it so alluring to me now is knowing what else is out there. It’s having been exposed, having *lived* as an independent woman. Why on earth would I want to take that away from someone? Why would anyone even consider narrowing another’s options?

I’m submissive because I choose to be. If I were submissive because I *had* to be, would I find it nearly as fulfilling? I don’t think so.

God. That topic just gets my goat.

….

….

I was asked “What gives a man the entitlement to require submission from a woman, if it is not his gender?”

My answer – Nothing. Absolutely nothing entitles a man to require, expect or deserve submission from a woman. Entitlement and birthright have no place in my world. I think it’s a ridiculous notion.

Master is dominant for reasons known only to him. In order for me to believe that dominance is a birthright entitled to him by his gender, I’d also have to believe that my own son is entitled to my submission (by birthright -ain’t gonna happen), that my doctor is entitled to my submission, that my brother is entitled to my submission, that my neighbor is –

Or worse, I’d have to believe that any male who isn’t an egotistical dominant ass is flawed in some way. Any male who didn’t want my submission was “unnatural”.

And I don’t believe that. I believe in personal choice, by both parties. I believe in mitigating circumstances that lead some people to D/s. I believe in pairing up with the person whose personality fits yours.

Why is he dominant? Because I submit to him. Without the other, we would be “nothing more than an egotistical arrogant self important bastard taking advantage of someone else who to stupid know better.”

Or worse, he’d be an egotistical ass thinking he deserves something that he doesn’t.

Personally, I think all doms are egotistical asses. I think it comes with the territory – a requirement, almost. I think the “flawed” part comes in when they con’t control it and begin thinking they can dominate outside of their little circle.

So I was admonished in the group for being disrespectful and rude (who? me? mouthy and opinionated? *le gasp!*), which wasn’t surprising because my hot-headed reply for that kind of dom to kiss my ass didn’t fall in with the “natural order” of female submissive-ness.

See where that sense of entitlement bites ya? I rather felt I was entitled to speak my mind since I’m not one of them “natural” submissive who falls to my knees at the sight of the big burly caveman and he felt he was entitled to lady-like, submissively-worded, gentle objections.

I guess we were both let down based on our misplaced sense of entitlement.

At which point I left the group. Not necessarily in an “I’m taking my ball and going home” huff, more of an “I don’t think I fit in here” kind of way.

Honestly, I really really do like and admire the moderators of that group. (Just not that particular OP) I have the utmost respect for them, as a couple.

I think she is just about the hottest thing on two legs.

I don’t have to agree with their views any more than they have to agree with mine. I have no interest in surrounding myself only with those who agree with me. I sincerely DO hope there hasn’t been damage done to what is, to me, an invaluable friendship.

But I really only bite my tongue for one person. I accept that my unwillingess to play by other’s rules may be costly. I accept that how we do this, the allowances he gives me, aren’t acceptable for others.

I guess I don’t know what else to say about it.

Rewiring the brain

I’ve been an at-home slave for 5 months now. Sometimes I lose sight of the reason that I’m at home and not back in the workforce. Master isn’t keeping me home so I can be an at-home mommy. I’m supposed to be training for the days to come.

Maybe it’s a parent’s natural tendency to step in and make things easier on the kids. Or maybe I’m “lazy” in thinking that it’s easier to do it for them than to battle them in making them do it. Maybe my kids are taking advantage of this new living arrangement and maybe I’m trying to make up some of what they missed out on before we got to this.

No matter what the maybes are…. this is not what Master had in mind.

My kids aren’t babies anymore. 14, 13 and almost 11. Why in God’s name am I cleaning their rooms? Why have they suddenly lost any and all responsibility for the pets that they wanted and promised to care for? Why am I packing lunches when I haven’t done that for them for years? The list goes on, things that they did independently not so very long ago. My day has become filled with household chores, which are part of being His slave, yes.. but not in the capacity of slaving to teenagers who’ve suddenly forgotten how to flush a toilet.

Another unexpected side effect of slipping so far under Master’s control has been that I lost some credibility as an authority figure to the kids. Not that I was ultra-strict before but it’s worsened considerably lately. It’s very very difficult to walk out of one room where I was just seconds before having my will obliterated by some task from Master to Authoritarian. In some instances, unwilling to draw attention to the fact that I’d just been crying, perhaps, or that I was not ABLE to comprehend what they were asking me, I’d wave them off with a quick “do what you want”.

And let’s take punishment. Theirs, not mine. As most parents of teenagers I’m limited on ways to punish them. I can ground them. Take away internet or phone privileges, the TV, etc. And all that does is make them that much more intent on paying attention to ME.

Since Master has started traveling again, these things about the kids are slapping me in the face repeatedly. Now the kids aren’t hooligans just yet. For the most part, they’re still fairly decent kids. I’m at a cross roads though, I think. Heading rapidly toward “it’s almost too late”. Especially for my oldest daughter. Master’s been trying to tell me for weeks and I kept missing His point.

I’m not here to play mommy. I’m not here to make up what they didn’t have as toddlers. I’m here to become a better slave because someday, I won’t have kids to make PB&J sandwiches for… but I’ll have a Master who had better be able to stick His big ol cock in my ass anytime He wants to. Who had better be able to snap His fingers and point at the floor and find me there in a nanosecond. Who had better be able to snap alligator clips on my nipples and cause me pain but not enough that I pass out and ruin His fun… or lock me in a box and NOT have me freak out so the neighbors call the cops. Who can feed me nothing but cum for a day or two and I’ll be grateful… who can pop His cock in my mouth and urinate in the middle of the night and not spill a drop on the sheets…. the things that I’m training for go on and on…. and THAT’S why I’m at home and not at work right now.

I’ve got a list of tasks that fill the entire day that the kids are at school. The hours that I would normally have been at work and not at home making beds and scooping litter boxes. And these tasks don’t include housework at all. It’s hours of butt plugs and ben wa balls.. nipple clamps to toughen them up… hours spent in isolation… starving myself, forced exercise to limber up, lose weight, gain muscle strength to learn to withstand hours of bondage. Jaw stretching, gag reflex overcoming. Following orders to the letters, being exactly where He tells me to be at exactly the time He tells me to be there, doing exactly what He tells me to do. Mind training, mind control… I’ve got no excuses, no outs. My purpose is to assist Him in turning me into what He wants. And He doesn’t want Super Mom. He wants Super Slave.

He’s not encouraging me to ignore my kids. On the contrary, He’s upset that I’m not stricter, more involved. I’m not teaching them to be responsible and independent. I’m allowing them to run His life and that’s just not acceptable.

Do you know that we almost missed this weekends play party because I didn’t know where my daughter was? The events that led up to her having the confidence to just up and disappear have been weeks in the making. (Turns out she went to the movies with some girlfriends, all innocent fun but not the point here at all). The tense feelings and mini argument between Master and I over that almost ruined the party anyway. And the whole thing has turned into a huge source of conflict as I spend the weekend that He’s home on pins and needles waiting for the kids to present more evidence of my “failure” as a parent.. which only heightens my “failure” as a slave. Because I’m not spending the entire day training myself to be His perfect cunt.. I’m spending it cleaning up my kid’s laziness, hiding their mistakes…. and trying to run interference between them and Master.

The entire process is exhausting me. The mental anguish of trying to please them all and not pleasing any of them is making me ill. When Master left this last time, I spent the entire next day in bed.. sick. I don’t get sick. I’m never sick. It was nothing more than stress-induced fatigue, I’m sure. Worsened by pms.

So… I’ve had to rethink things. Last night, while making a run to pick up one kid from a school function Master had tried to call.. the message said something to the affect of “you’ve got to do better than this, this is not acceptable”.

That’s been ringing in my ears all last night and all today… of course it’s acceptable that I go pick up my kid, it’s NOT acceptable that He didn’t know where I was. It’s not acceptable that He’s ever EVER wondering where I am. Barring a sudden trip in an ambulance somewhere, I’ve no excuse for not taking the time to call Him or send Him an email or something to tell Him where I’m going. When I’ll be back. But that whole line…”you’ve got to do better than this, this is not acceptable” applies to so many other things and I know it.

My days… Monday through Friday… from 8:30am to 3:00pm are to be filled with SOME aspect of slave training. No excuses. None. Zip. Zilch. Just imagine that… at any given moment between those hours I’ll be either in pain, or fucking myself in some hole with some thing. Right now, I’m sitting on the big butt plug. I just finished with the clothespins. I’m starving hungry and when I hit enter, I’m heading out into the cold to get some exercise in.

And at 3pm, I start mommying. I start the housecleaning part of slavery. And I get my lazy-ass kids to make their own beds.

~Master’s cunt