Posts Tagged ‘the world according to Master’

Did I tell you we finally bought a potato masher? Lol.

May 16th, 2016 2 comments
Disclaimer: this is not the potato masher we just bought. I kinda wish it was. This is what happens when I run my mouth in Walmart instead of at home where I can search the internet for cute potato mashers. You can buy them here: Mr. Potato Masher.

Disclaimer: this is not the potato masher we just bought. I kinda wish it was. This is what happens when I run my mouth in Walmart instead of at home where I can search the internet for cute potato mashers. You can buy this adorable masher here: Mr. Potato Masher.

So a while back, my potato masher broke. When I say “a while,” I mean before Thanksgiving. Hell, it might have even been before Thanksgiving 2014.

I had a minor freakout when it happened. All the best Food Network chefs say not to mash potatoes with an egg beater because they get gummy.

I tried mashing them with the whisk and that shit was not happening. Our whisk is too flimsy. Instead of mashing the potatoes, it just bent all over the place and rearranged its loops. I almost caused myself to be out a whisk with the trying.

So I asked Twitter, and Twitter said, “Try a fork.”

And it worked! The potatoes were mashed. They were creamy. They were delicious. Read more…

Categories: Rayne Tags:

Definitely made a wrong turn somewhere.

March 26th, 2016 Comments off

M: I have to pee.
Me: You’re not allowed.
M: I am allowed, but I could make it so you’re not allowed again. That could be fun.
Me: That was never fun.
M: It was certainly fun for me.


Note to self: Stop telling him he’s not allowed to do things.

Winning Arguments With Kung Fu Panda

February 3rd, 2016 Comments off

La kajira. I am a pleasure slave. I am trained in the ways of the Gorean slave, and the core of my training is “be pleasing.”

The definition of “pleasure,” as you may know, varies from person to person. So, too, does the definition of “pleasure slave.” For some, “pleasure slave” is exclusive to bedroom activities. For some, “pleasure slave” extends to every part of the slave’s life. Regardless the dynamic, one thing remains constant: a pleasure slave must learn to identify things that bring the slave owner pleasure.

So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I noticed Master resisting my suggestions at every turn.

Most recent development in his weirdness: the Kung Fu Panda movies.

When they first came out, he absolutely refused to watch them. Said they looked incredibly stupid, and he couldn’t understand why they were so popular.

I insisted that he’d like them.

He resisted.

Kung Fu Panda 3 previews hit the TV, and all of a sudden he wanted to watch the first two.

Guess who laughed hysterically and is now eating his hat.

That’s all I have to say about that. 😜


Categories: Rayne Tags:

Muddy Ideas

October 13th, 2014 3 comments

“You could tie me up and fuck me like this,” I said. In my head, I went, “When did I start making suggestions again?”

Months and months ago, Master said he’d know when I was ready to play like we used to, and I asked how.

He said something like, “You’ll start making suggestions again.”

Apparently, when I’m up for whatever, I give him all sorts of ideas.

He pumped his hips against my ass a couple times, being funny. Then he said, “In your ass!” not being funny.

“You could!” I said, but I’m not feeling well today, so I followed it up with, “though today’s probably not a good idea.”

“No day is a good idea, according to you. So how about I’ll just decide when I want to be grossed out and you’ll just do as you’re told.”

I laughed. And then said, “If you’re gonna play in the mud, you’re gonna get dirty.”

“That’s fucking disgusting. Don’t say that!”

I think that’ll keep him out of my ass for at least a month. You think?

A Conversation About Fear and Spoiled Slaves

March 4th, 2014 5 comments

CollarOn Saturday, we went for a drive.

Master was going to head out to Vischer Ferry so we could take pictures along the Old Erie Canal. I said, “I was going to bring my camera, and then I decided not to.”

“Well,” he said, “I was thinking about stopping at Walmart so we can pick up one of those binoculars-slash-digital-camera things we were talking about getting.”

“That’d be great. I forgot to bring tampons, and I have to pee.”

He glared at me, and launched his usual tirade about me forgetting something so crucial to our being able to stay out a while. In truth, my uterus is being a finicky bitch (as she is wont to do), and I only have my period every other twenty-four hours. Saturday was an other day, but you can never be too sure. I told him that, but he wanted those binoculars, so we went. Read more…

So, Uh…About Aunt Flo…

February 25th, 2014 3 comments

M and me making faces“So, uh…shouldn’t you be bleeding by now?”

“Mayyyybe.” In truth, I don’t know. I stopped keeping track of my period the day my tubes were tied. I mean, I always have an estimated idea of when my next one is due, but since my last child, my period has never really been exact, and I finally just gave up worrying about whether or not I was pregnant because I haven’t gotten pregnant in thirteen years.

I mean, I know it’s been a few weeks. But has it been three or four? I dunno! Every once in a while, my cycle falls around the sixth of the month. Other times, it falls around the fifteenth. Which is it now? I don’t know!

“I feel like you should be bleeding by now.”

“Well…yesterday my back was killing me. Today my boobs hurt. My stomach’s fucked up and I can’t sleep. So maybe soon?”


“Or maybe I’m pregnant,” I said sardonically.

“No babies! No babies! No babies!” he yelled, in his best game show voice.

“Yeah, that’s one abortion I’ll pay for,” I reply.

“You’ll do what I tell you,” he retorts. “So just don’t get pregnant.”

P.S. This is mostly a joke. Yes, I was a little late, but we’re talking days, not weeks, and M and me were mostly just fucking with each other.

P.P.S I started my period later that day. No babies!