Fuck ups and Fantasies

Okay yesterday I sort of totally fucked up the cha-cha.  I tried to down load a cool new gadget.  Suffice to say it was NOT cool when I finally got it up and running.  It looked nothing like the pictures, did not do what I wanted... and erased all my past comments.  NO FUCKING WAY.  So I deleted it.  And everything went south from there.  I could not get the comments thingy to work at all.  Then I could not get past my "adult content" consent button interrupt thingy... It would pop up and I would click yes... and nothing would happen... arggghhh... I could access my home page and could create a new post and publish it... I just could not see it.  Thank god, Bonnie from MBS sent me an email with a good tip and I got most everything back the way I want.  Thank you... Thank you... Thank you.  I think my heart stopped a few times there.  I deleted all the test posts, so if you got notification about a post and it is not there... don't freak.  Things should be getting back to normal.  Thank you for your patience.

This was the post I wrote last night for this morning... so on with the show.

I am not sure if it is a good excuse, but it is a bitch to get anything done around here.  After a lazy day of naps and walks and dumb TV… (I didn’t even have to cook because I made a vat sized pot of vegetable beef soup yesterday) …I finally took on the task of putting the dishes into the dishwasher and turning it on.

I know, I know… that does not sound like a good service slave.  And the fantasy slave in my day dreams would rather have her limbs amputated rather than leave a fork unwashed even for a moment.  Hell the fantasy slave would experience spontaneous orgasms while washing and polishing said fork… from the sheer joy at doing this thing for the fantasy Master.  But then again, the fantasy Master does not live here either. 

The fantasy Master would care about such minutia as how many minutes a fork may go unwashed.  But in reality, the only expectation here is there be “a” clean fork in the drawer when he opens it and reaches in.  And this not stupid slave has made sure we have a butt ton of forks, spoons, knives, plates, bowls and other things like that.  The sink would be literally overflowing before we ran out of clean anything.

In reality, the Master around here is not very particular about clean floors or cobwebs or piles of stuff here and there.  And the fantasy slave that lives in my head kind of wishes he did, at least a little bit more.  It would make doing it all that much better… not orgasmic… but better. 

So anyway back to reality… I made myself get up off the couch and wandered into the kitchen.  And as usual, the sleeping predator lifted his head, instantly alert… the prey was on the move again.  It wasn’t many minutes before he was behind me… my hands deep in warm soapy water, and my pants around my ankles.

Amidst the myriad of blows raining down upon my ass, between squawks, I asked, “Are you spanking me because I am being a good girl and doing some work?  Or are you spanking me because I have such an awesome ass that you could not leave it alone?” 

He laughed and answered, “Well it started out for the first reason and keeps going because of the second.”  And as I shuffled back and forth from the sink to the dishwasher, hobbled by my lowered knickers, blinking and trying not to duck and weave, I mutter, “No wonder I don’t get much done around here.”

Happy Holidays...

It was a regular outfit… form fitting jeans, long red polka dot shirt, black cardigan. The polka dot shirt did hang out below the sweater making a sort of a frilly, flouncy skirt thingy. But something about it caught Master’s eye. He was happy with it, making rare positive statements about what I am wearing. Usually, the only outfit that draws his attention is the lack of outfit. Naked will always catch his attention. But his compliment was a bit strange, he said I looked like Wilma. Wilma??? This was no off the shoulder, mammoth fur mini dress. There was not necklace of big white rocks around my neck. My legs were not bare… Wilma?

I screw up my face in my classic ‘Master, I just don’t get it’ expression. “Is Wilma sexy?”

“Oh yes, very much.”

Sexier than Betty?”

“Without question.” He seemed very serious about this. I have some vision of him as a pimply faced teenager masturbating to old Flintstone comics.

“And I am like Wilma?”

“You ARE Wilma.” Okay this is a bit much. He is NOT Fred. I can’t really come up with a comic book character that would fit what he looks like… maybe you could visualize a bald fifty-ish Shaggy from Scooby Doo. But you would have to put in the personality and smarts of The Brain from Pinky and the brain. But I can definitely picture him yelling, “Wilma!” There are echoes of that in the sing song, warning of “Pretty girrell….”

My black eye has gotten even prettier… spread to the other side and while they don’t match… I definitely have two black eyes now. And the yellow of the healing bruises has suffused to surround my nose and both eyes. I told Master that the yellow, brown, red and purple colors are just my fall colors. He asked if that meant my nose was going to fall off soon.

I tried to plead that marathon fellatio does not go with bruised and swollen noses. But from his unsympathetic expression, he apparently did not care. And it wasn’t so bad… actually it was very good, judging from the sounds he made as he came. For me that is better than any orgasm, that wave of joy that I feel when he comes so hard that he gets loud.

Today it is cold and nasty and wet… as usual… but the house is warm. My parents are flying in for the holiday and are arriving this evening. I am staying home all week, so I have a whole day to finish up and to just rest and relax. I got ninety percent of everything done this weekend, so there is not all that much to do. As Master was about to leave this morning and I went to kiss him good bye and wish him to drive safe and come home soon to me… and as he pushed me against the wall he said his usual… “I should tell you…”

And you know what? I interrupted him and said, “I wish you would stop talking about what you should do and just tell me.”

So I got a list of things to do. He told me to go down and hide that big pile of implements of ass destruction, to sweep and vacuum in his room. That is huge… not the hiding of whips and paddles, the dusting and sweeping stuff. He usually, hell he NEVER lets me clean his room. I washed the sheets too… something he never objects to, as long as it is all put back together before he gets home. (ppsssttt… the weapons are now under the bed in a duffle bag…)

In many ways I am fortunate that Master does not care about dust or cobwebs. He does not care about that kind of house cleaning all that much. And I am equally lucky that my parents come to visit twice a year, so that I have some external motivation to beat back the creepy cobwebs. Part of me wishes he was stricter, part of me knows I am a lucky lazy bitch.

Anyway, it is all done. I knocked down six months accumulation of dusty spider webs, swept herds of dust bunnies (muskoxen would be more accurate) into the dust bin. I had time to go get my nails done… the ultimate spoiled girl indulgence… red sparkly in honor of the holidays. And I still have about four more hours to hang out and write.

So holidays... here I come. Ohhhh, speaking of holidays... time to get that turkey bird out of the freezer. I don't know if I will have much tome to poke my head in and say hi, what with family and cooking and all those kinda fun thingies... you guys have a good one.

One Hour a Day...

So far I have been sticking to it... the instant I walk into the house I set the timer... one hour.

Last night I was so tempted to put in 45 minutes or even just 30. I was dragging ass... I had spent a couple hours kid wrastling. We have this cuuuuute new little guy, as uncivilized a child found raised by wolves. He won't sit still, he is up and moving every ten seconds, he has no sense of boundaries, getting into all the cupboards and cabinets, he grabs stuff, he runs out the classroom door and zips down down the hallway at top speed... and if you block him, say no, say wait, say "first lunch, then..." his beautiful brown eyes widen, he opens his mouth wide and shrieks and ATTACKS. He pinches, he bites, he hits, he kicks... he is little but SQUIRMY and his family has left us with a directive that they do not want us restraining him. Yeah, right, just let the little darling bite the fuck out of me... NOT! I was dripping with sweat by the time I got someone else to take a turn with him.

Anyway I was one tired kid wrangler when I got home. But I was good, I put on 60 minutes. And I got lots of stuff done, ran the dishwasher, folded three loads of laundry, dusted, swept, put a couple coats of finish on my new spreader bar, set some mouse traps... (the big hole in the wall, the one Master made when he was working on the insect damage, seems to have let in some squatters... lots of little mouse poopies showing up in that room).

I was still working when Master got home. He is learning, he looks at the timer. After throwing myself down onto my knees, my forehead respectfully on the floor the minute he came in (no delays today) and I got some happy greeting spanks and then a big hug. He sat and watched me putter around the house for the last ten minutes and then told me to go sit down.

I asked him if he was happy with my new resolution, and he said yes, but he did not require it every day. He said he knows what it is like to come home tired from work. Erk... I wish he had said that it was a rule, an expectation, a DO IT, BITCH... it is so much easier to be externally disciplined rather than internally. Pout...

I need to check my trap line before I go to work.

Update on "What is she writing now."

The only "chore" Master left me with today is to write... and I have been a good little obedient slave.

I just put up the rough draft of chapter 20 of Demon Child on my "What is she writing now?" page, if anyone is too impatient to wait for it to show up on Literotica.

I am off to do some editing and then I am going to start the epilogue. Woot... another 400 page novel under my belt. I am AWESOME!!!!!

Alaska pictures

So I am home again. A little older (I did have my birthday during my visit.) and a little wiser. I do know that I was doing a lot of mourning. While my mother is still very much alive, she is just not the same and I had to face that loss.

They gave me the "Girl With the Dragon Tattoo", "The Girl That Played With Fire", and "The Girl That Kicked the Hornets Nest" for my birthday present. I am already done with the first two and half way through the third. They are good mystery thrillers.

Master has left with the 'struction to "finish that book" so I won't be sneaking off to read alla the time and he can give me longer lists of things to do. But to tell you the truth he was so happy to get me home that I have been totally spoiled since I have gotten here. Direction to "take nap now" twice a day. Order out Mexican put down in front of me when I rouse and blink bleary eyed. And he was right... I was pretty drained when I got home. Both physically and mentally exhausted. And lets not forget the amazing sex. I really needed the rest.

Here are some pictures of my Alaska trip.

If you get up very early in the morning...














... and you keep a sharp eye out, you will sometimes see the caribou as he swims across. He is the little black thing in the water.












And you will have a better chance of actually catching a salmon to eat.












Here is a picture of that unfortunate rainbow trout with the terrible facial scars from being caught and released so many times. He was big and strong and healthy... if a bit battered and having an ugly mug.









And here is that lonely Stellar Sea Lion at the Seward Sea Life Center.

















So I guess I better get to reading if I am going to obey the 'structions and finish that book.

Bats in my Belfry? ...or worse?

All yesterday afternoon I would hear this thump and rustle. I would pause in my writing and wonder, "Is Master home?" He has been known to sneak in. Sometimes to spy on me, sometimes to scare the crap out of me. Twice I got up and looked out the front window.

It was loud enough to be a door opening or closing... or someone walking in the empty bedrooms upstairs. I would listen carefully but it would be quiet again. Nothing... but then a few minutes later... there is would be again. I even walked around the house, looked in every room... the noise was loud enough to make me nervous. I grabbed the hammer that was sitting on my leather working bench... telling myself I needed it for a little repair job on the main floor, but I found myself gripping it firmly and finding a small amount of security to have a weapon in my hand. But again there was nothing, nothing out of place. The house eerily silent as I patrolled.

Then the more easily identified sound of the screen door and I found myself hurrying to greet Master, my tension making me babble... "Finally, it is you, really you?" (Another release the squirrels moment.) I knelt at his feet, my forehead firmly placed between his feet, so happy he was home. Something creepy was going on in my world and I wanted him here with me... here with me now.

When he lifted my up and wrapped his arms around me, I asked him, "Do you sometimes hear things in this house? Like doors opening and closing or people walking around?" He responded all the time, saying that it must be a ghost. (I know he does not believe in ghosts but it is also true he hears the same things sometimes.) Most of the time it is squirrels dancing on the roof but this was closer, more mysterious, stranger.

Then as we walked together to through the house, I found a clue. A black sooty, ominous clue. In front of the fireplace was a smooth black layer of pitch black soot with the tracks of bare feet going back and forth, my bare feet from each trip I had made through the house. I freeze and point, whispering in pent up excitement... "Look!"

Master's voice was confident, "Something is in the chimney. Sometimes birds fall in and get stuck because they can't fly straight up." We stand still listening but the house is silent for the moment. I vacuum up the mess and run a duster to get up the last of micro fine particles. I open and shut the flue violently a few times... BANG! BANG! BANG! I stick a poker up the chimney and rattle it around but there is not a sound. Maybe it was gone? Master tells me to close the flue tight and go wash off all the soot I had gotten all over me, before I sit on any furniture.

Then later, an hour later, Master calls me into the front room. "Listen." But it was quiet, he says he had heard it, that it sounded exactly like a bird, maybe a jay or a pigeon. Several times through the evening, it would tap, thump and flutter and I would envision that poor thing caught, covered in fine soot, choking on the dust it was kicking up. The practical part of me thinking that nothing could live long in such conditions and hoping it would hurry up and die. The worry wart part of me wondering if this thing would stink or clog up my chimney, vaguely pissed about having one more household thing to put on the list that makes me question and nag my Master.

And now this morning, my precious Friday morning, my one day a week I am not working and Master is. The one day I have to myself to get those extra chores done, to work on special projects like writing, crafts and reading. After Master leaves for work I am sitting in my special place on the couch... there it is... thump, tap, rustle...

Shudder... that thing is still in there, still struggling, slowly dieing. Part of me wonders about going and opening the flue and seeing if it will finally fall out... but enough of me is terrified of what it might be, some kind of black monster that once freed will flutter and flap all around my house, spreading germs and soot. Or worse grow to unrealistic proportions and come after me in some kind of vengeance for my callous wish that it would just hurry up and die.

One of the tasks Master has left me with is to clean all the ashes out of the fireplace. He says that we should try and get the corpse out.

I am reluctant to approach the fireplace... creeped out to being even that close to horror. I think this is far worse than ghosts.

Productive Friday... or "Get to Work Bitch"

It is not quite 1:00pm and I have my chore list finished.

Weeds.... check. Master has this special kind of weed that he is waging war upon. They pop up through the grass and then spread. They are hardy beyond belief and their roots go to China. He told me to go find them and dig them up. I found six. I wish there was a bounty on them suckers.

Laundry... check. Sheets washed and bed remade. Master's clothes all folded and put away. A load of towels and dishcloths... sweet and bleachy and folded and put away.

Weed eater... check. The down side of running the weed eater is the flying dirt and dust. But I got all the weeds down where I can't get the lawn mower and I got side tracked and went after some paving stones that had started to sink down into the lawn. By the time I got done I was coated in dirt.

Dig all the roots away from the edge of the foundation... check.

Spread insecticide... check. Better living through chemistry. There have been a few signs of carpenter ant activity around our foundation. Normally I like to go organic... but when the little bastards start chewing on my house... well like I said... better living through chemistry. Die mother fuckers die!

Floors... check. Hand and knees scrub in the kitchen and vacuuming the rest of the house.

Peel and boil potatoes for potato salad tomorrow... check.

Write... check. I have added a page to my blog... "What is she writing now?" I am going to throw up what ever is new... raw and unedited. I will take down old stuff and put up whatever is new. Hopefully this will keep me focused and motivated.

As you see, Master left me with a long list of things to do to keep me busy... ha ha ha... already done and I have hours left to myself. I rock. Not so lazy bitch today. Speaking of which... back to writing.