Weekend, weekstart...

Well not a single Trick-or-Treater, even with the Jack-0-Lanterns on the front porch and the light on. It is funny, walk over about three blocks and the neighborhood is crawling with little monsters, but here on our little quiet dead end road, not one. Oh well, now I just have to resist the urge to eat the candy Master bought.

I did not see Livie's costume, but I am sure that there will be lots of pictures. She was a vulcanologist. Yes, my grand daughter the science nerd. She stayed Saturday night here with Grampa and me while Dad and Mom went to a Halloween party. We watched "How to Train Your Dragon" and carved pumpkins. We had a fun time. She would not let me throw away the seeds. I am not crazy about pumpkin seeds and yet I sat there on the floor with her and picked out every single one with her.

I am still struggling with lack of motivation. It is like walking through knee deep mud. Not particularly depressed, not irritable, not sad, not even very uncomfortable. I am not plagued with that "I want something, but nothing is quite right" restlessness that characterizes my normal depression. Just slow, sleepy, uninspired... blahness. Master does not seem much better. We are just sitting around and doing as little as possible between naps.

The only thing that stands out is before the Saturday morning sex, he had predictably decided we were going to go for a walk. Then after looking out at the dark gray, cold, constant drizzle he changed the directive and said we were going directly to the shower. I looked internally and seeing nothing there but that same blah, dull lack of motivation begged for him to shock me, to wake me up, to hurt me first. My voice was plaintive, "Hurt me, bite me... wake me up."

He pushed me down, pinning me face down to the bed and began to nip at me, little annoying nips that I could barely feel, nips the tickle more than hurt and I writhed under him, complaining that I hate those kind of silly little bites, that he needs to sink his teeth into me, "reaaaaallly bite me!" But he ignored me, slipping lower to nibble on my most ticklish places and I was lost in a storm of infuriated giggles.

Later that day, I was sitting at the table working on household bills and he leaned down and bit me, another annoying little nip, picking up a tiny bit of skin. I twisted and complained that he was doing it wrong again. "You need to get more of me into your mouth. Bite me with your whole mouth." And he did.

OH MY FUCKING GAWD...

That woke me up. I LIKED that. I practically came. He was a little taken back by the intensity of my response and looking at the imprint of his teeth on my skin, commented that he did not like that. But I must say, that nearly a dozen times on Saturday and then again on Sunday, he tried it again. Pulling my hair to one side and firmly taking that whole corner where my neck meets my shoulder into his mouth and slowly, experimentally clamping down, rewarded each time with a my instant response. I freeze, go absolutely stature still and then groan low.

It makes every hair on my body stand on end. Cascades of shivers run over my whole skin. For minutes, even hours later I can still feel where his teeth touched me. Just writing this makes my panties warm.

And now it is a dark, wet, cold Monday morning, with a week of work stretching out in front of me. Just writing that is a serious buzz kill. Maybe I can get Master to bite me good-bye before work today.