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Archive for November, 2007

My Crazy Life

November 17th, 2007 No comments

Things have been a little crazy around here lately. They’re winding down, finally, though. Today’s tentative plans are to deposit my check, get a few things we need for the new business and begin making prototypes and/or samples to be given out. We’ll see where the day ends up ::grin::

I made a complete idiot of myself Wednesday night and Thursday morning. I let myself get carried away by emotion. I allowed my stubborn nature to get in the way of my slavery. And when Master found Himself forced to ask if I still wanted to be His wife and slave I responded by saying I did not want to be a slave anymore.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it would ever truly be possible for me to just stop being a slave. Granted, I’m not perfect at it. But well before I begged for Master’s collar, I was asking before I did anything. I mean anything. I asked to go to the bathroom. I asked to go over to my friend’s house. I asked to get something to eat, drink, do… Everything. And when His grip starts to loosen on my collar I start to freak out.

I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m glad He said, “Tough.” I would have felt very silly indeed a few hours later when all was well and I had to ask to return to my place in His life.

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Starting a Business!

November 15th, 2007 No comments

So I know I said I’d write more about my tasks. But the fact of the matter is there was never time and then I forgot what I was going to write. Sorry guys.

I can’t get it together today. Yesterday was such a shit day and we went to bed pretty inebriated. Now I’m exhausted and I just want to curl up and go to sleep.

5000. That’s the number of $0.01 jobs on turk I’d have to do to pay my weekly child support. Five thousand. And if each one takes me two minutes that’s 167 hours at $0.30/hr. That’s productive. Especially since there’s only 168 hours in a week.

Master’s agreed to give us a go at starting a business that would eventually (hopefully) make it possible for me to stop working for someone else and just work for Him and me. Something I can do and work at the same time just in case it doesn’t go as well as we hope. And if it does REALLY well, He’ll be able to stop working for someone else too! I’ve already got my hopes way too high. I’ve got all these really awesome ideas. I need a new notebook to write them all down in. ::grin:: And you know, there’s never a pen on my desk. I think the first order of business should be getting me a new desk that has so many cubbyholes and storage spaces and flat surfaces that it’s impossible for it to be disorganized. ::nods:: (kidding – though that’s a really good idea for the future)

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Ode to Odors

November 13th, 2007 No comments

Okay so I know I started that other blog and I really will finish it when I get home from work tonight. I just am reading kaya’s post while I’m on lunch (not eating… bad slave. I’ll probably grab a yogurt when I get back to work) waiting to see if Master’s going to be able to pop in and say hello (online) before I have to go back (shit… in 10 minutes! Where does the time go?) and I got thinking. Holy run on sentence, batman!

So I was thinking. I, like kaya, also have weird odor issues. I hate it when things stink. Master’s house, my body, the trashcan, my clothes, my breath, what have you. It is embarrassing to no end. I won’t go somewhere if the smell is less than pleasant on a semi-regular basis. I won’t use a public restroom if I’m doing more than just urinating and I can wait. I just can’t do it. My job is killing me because we have a handful of residents that refuse to shower. And I avoid the first floor as much as humanly possible when we’re down a housekeeper because it always smells like urine.

So I was thinking. With my ex, I just stopped caring. So long as we were home I didn’t care. He wanted to fuck and I hadn’t showered? Oh well. If he kissed me and I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet? Oh well. Out of deodorant, not going anywhere and no one coming over? His problem.

With Master, on the other hand, I am increasingly aware of odors. I shower daily. I didn’t before I met Him… 2-3 times a week, maybe? Unless I was going somewhere. I just didn’t care. If He allows it, I buy gum and/or mints. I brush my teeth 2-3 times a day. I wash my hair if it even has a hint of that fresh out of bed odor even though that doesn’t really stink, it just bothers me. If Master says something smells even slightly off I’m almost immediately searching for the culprit and cleaning it. Laundry gets done daily. Towels are washed a couple times a week (speaking of which, they’re due – note to self).

I should have noticed that I was way too comfortable with the ex at my worst long before I finally ditched the lousy fuck (I mean that both figuratively and literally). And I wonder if I’ll ever get more comfortable with Master seeing me at my worst. And should I? I mean, isn’t it a good thing that I want to be at my best for Him? Shouldn’t I always? Anyway… I was just thinking.

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Tasks

November 13th, 2007 No comments

Not quite finished, though you can read what’s there now if you like. Will be finishing it tonight when I get home from work, provided I have time. If not, I’ll definitely finish it tomorrow before work.

I haven’t really talked much about my daily tasks. I don’t always get them done. The news, TDG and studying WS is actually rather easy, truth be told. But quite often, even when I start the second I get out of bed, I run out of time for blogs and writing. And the pictures never get done anymore. There’s not time.

That last is a bummer. I love the pictures. I hated deciding what to do in them. I’m not a sadist and I’m not particularly good at making up my own humiliating tasks. I prefer to be told what to do to and then do it. Hence my being a slave and not a dominatrix. And everything’s been done. Maybe not by me, but definitely by someone. And we just need more toys. Period. This is the thought process I go through when trying to figure out what to suggest to Master. I’m not complaining, I’m just explaining why it’s difficult for me. Course, if everything about being a slave was easy, everyone would be a slave.

Like today, for example. I’m now out of time to blog because I wrote first. I’ll finish this when I get home. I’m writing myself a note now 🙂

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Permission to be a bitch (Disclaimer: KIDDING!!!!)

November 12th, 2007 No comments

In discussing another master and his slave, I said “She’s really sweet.”

Master responded with “What use do I have for sweet?”

That’s permission to be a bitch right there, isn’t it? Isn’t it??!?

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Scene Write Up

November 10th, 2007 No comments

Yesterday was beef stew for dinner. Which means that if I want dinner ready almost exactly when Master gets home (I’m off on Friday and Saturday), everything has to go in the slow cooker at 9:15am. I forgot. I forgot until I went into the kitchen and saw the slow cooker sitting on the stove. It was 10:30 when I got everything in the pot and turned on, pushing dinner time to 6:30. A full hour after He got home. That could be hazardous to my health.

Not because dinner was supposed to be ready by the time He got home. But because that gives Him a full hour between when He walks through the door and when He sits down to eat to do whatever it is He wants with my body while He’s still wired from work. While He still has energy. And the second “You should be naked, slut.” left His lips, almost as soon as He stepped in the door, I realized He planned to take advantage.

“Come over here and spend some time on the floor.” He said. And I cringed a little as I scrubbed the lip gloss from my lips. His voice had that tone that says, I have an idea. And my stomach fluttered nervously as I realized it meant He wouldn’t reveal His plans until the minute He was ready to.

I curled up at His feet and licked and kissed His thigh as He searched online for a new game to play. I remember getting annoyed because He always makes it seem like He’s ignoring me when I’m on the floor, which is well within His right. And then He told me to rub my tits on Him (“Let me feel those big tits, cunt.”) and the annoyance was gone. Overcome by embarrassment. Humiliation.

It wasn’t long before He sent me on my way to find something for Him to hurt me with. I asked what He wanted and He said “Surprise me.” I knelt before the toy trunk and stared as my pussy got wetter and wetter and my body began to tremble with anticipation and I wished I didn’t have to choose. Choosing the implement of torture He uses on my body fills me with so much anxiety. What if it’s not what He wanted? What if it’s more than I can handle? What if…

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