I’ve had four stories kicked back, a few others edited to hell and back, some confusion surrounding payment because I didn’t ask enough questions, and one mishap with another author accidentally getting credit for one of my stories, but overall I’ve had nothing but positive experiences. I’m sure at least part of that is because I got lucky, and got a writing job with a company I’ve been working with for over a year, so I’m (mostly) comfortable asking questions, and completely comfortable with fucking up. Another part is my resolve to view this whole thing as a learning experience, no matter what.

I think what surprised me most is the atmosphere. I’ve dealt with all sorts of people from all over the world, so I never know what to expect. But so far, things have been really relaxed and friendly. I think because of how things have been in our neighborhood, and some epiphanies I’ve been having about other areas of my life, I’ve sort of forgotten that there are some people out there who are genuine and respectful. Besides the small circle M and I have begun to draw tighter to ourselves, of course. More me than M, but I think He’s getting there. 

It’s really interesting to watch Him open up. It reminds me of when Anais Nin said, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” I think He’s feeling kind of like that, these days.

Not long ago, a friend acquaintance neighbor was rambling about how M and I both had a lot of growing to do, and how very few couples grow together, and how I should be prepared for a day when we would grow apart. I knew she meant well. She wasn’t trying to be insulting. And she never made mention of who she thought would mature faster, or decide to go in a different direction. But I assumed she meant M would be a child forever, because she believes all men will be children forever.

That was the end of the friendship. Not because I was offended. I wasn’t. I know where she’s coming from. I know that her hatred of men is really her coping mechanism. But I’ve spent a lot of time building confidence in myself, and my relationship, and learning how to trust someone, and I don’t need anyone tearing that down. Even unintentionally.

I do this a lot. Instead of just saying that, I walk away. If the person pursues me, I make excuses. I don’t want to hurt their feelings. I can’t handle hurting their feelings. And it’s easier to make myself look like an asshole than tell someone I really don’t know well that they’re being an asshole. My personal goal, lately, has been to remind myself, when I begin to worry about my reaction to something, that I have a reason/right/responsibility to  myself to react the way I did. And with a kick ass owner, and friends like the ones I’ve got, that gets easier every day. Though I’m sure I exhaust them all.

In other news, a guy across the street from our house got shot the other day. In his house. By people trying to break in.

We’re telling ourselves it was people he knew and pissed off. Shut up. We can’t afford to move right now. But soon.

The other day, M told me to go get His laptop for Him. I’m not really sure what struck me about that as odd, except maybe that He’s never done that before. Plug it in for Him, sure. Get the tray table so He could set it up. But to actually get up from the table, walk to the couch, and sit down, without taking His laptop, in front of which He was just sitting, and say, “Go get my laptop for me, and plug it in, since you’re such a good slave girl.”

Yeah, I sort of blinked at Him. There was challenge in His eyes, and I laughed while I picked up the infernal machine and carried it to Him, then got down on my hands and knees to plug it in under His end table.

He keeps threatening to make this week like the week in May, but I think He’s waiting for Aunt Flo to stop being a cunt (~snicker~) so He can fuck me while He treats me like garbage. He enjoys that an awful lot. I enjoy that an awful lot. But not as much as He does, the sadistic bastard.

He gets a twisted pleasure out of stuffing His cock in my pussy while He tells me how disgusting I am for allowing it. His cock gets an inch longer and an inch thicker, I swear, when He spits in my face and reminds me that my affinity for taking whatever He has to offer is what makes me not worthy of anything He wants to give. And yet, He gives it to me anyway. Aren’t I just the lucky slut?

The other day I saw a picture of one of my favorite porn stars sporting a black eye, and my cunt twitched. I wonder if He has the balls. I wonder if I have the balls to stand there an take it.

Okay, so not so quick, but definitely dirty. And now, I’m off to prepare His feast.

~pigwhore