Hell, I didn’t even know I was playing! Nor am I British! Anybody know how much I’m getting?

I was also notified that an “Elder Mouther Swallowed Sons Pecker”. Whatever a “mouther” is.

The information super-highway is being highly abused me thinks.

~~*~~

 I may get to another post today, about the punishment and how it was completely FUBAR-ed and why  and whathaveyou… but just to answer a few questions about it real quick right now:

The sentence changes based on what lesson I’m supposed to be learning. It’s a sentence of His choosing and an amount of His choosing. He’s real good at picking a dictionary definition that’s meant to drive home the meaning of something, but He’s also just as prone to make it a repetetive reaffirmation of a rule.

This particular time was this: Obedience – the act or practice of obeying; dutiful or submissive compliance.  250 times. Which is a LOT of paper and a lot of time and a lot of hand cramping.

I think I’ve mentioned a time or seven how much I loathe writing sentences, yes?

The bench (aka, the bitch bench) is covered in sandpaper, something like 20 and 40 grit, which translate to ‘gravel-grit’. Those circles are round sandpaper pieces meant for a sander I think.

I sit there, bare-assed, for however long it takes me to finish writing whatever sentence He’s given me in that hateful ‘punishment book’. Or I’m supposed to. But as I said, last night was fucked up, which is a rather long and whiny and complicated story. And now, Master and I are miffed at each other.

But, I have a lot to do this morning so perhaps later.

~cunt