O S M R puppies... cont.

Master says I forgot an important part of the story about last night.

So... I have these panties... two pair identical. Animal print... leopard spots with red trim. And one of them has an infuriating tendency to ride up the crack of my ass. Unfortunately I had them on yesterday.

And as Master dragged/drug/propelled/herded me around the mall... up, down, back, forth them panties were giving me about a million tons of grief, creeping, crawling, insinuating themselves deeper and deeper... until I was about to scream. Over and over I surreptitiously would pull at the waist band or tugged at a leg, squirming, wiggling and wincing. I remember Master asking me over and over if I wanted to look at something. I would blink and shake my head. The last thing I was going to do was tell him about this dilemma. It would have made his day.

I do remember once we were done with our Mall trek and he took me to the car and opened my side door and I got in, during those three seconds that it took him to walk to the driver's side door, I was rooting about between my ass cheeks trying to extricate what felt like an alien invasion of my ass crack. (later when I told Master about this activity, he commented that he noticed the car rocking as he walked around...)

I know one thing, I threw them fucking evil panties away last night, so I only have one pair of animal print with red trim now...

So there it is... the complete story...

***

Tomorrow is cookie day.

"O S M R puppies, C M P N?"

So one of the things I did last weekend was go to this "Easy Advanced Body Work" class that was for kinky people only. It was very cool and the (I want to say "girl" but that would be showing my age) lady that taught the class was really great. Easy techniques to relax and work muscle groups. (I have been shopping for a reasonably priced massage table ever since.)

She is an acupuncturist and some other eastern type treatment specialist with her own practice here... so when my back continued to get worse instead of better and Master said I had to go to the chiropractor I begged to try out this instead. So I go permission to go to her instead. On Monday I went in and got punctured and then manipulated. And I feel better, all better.

While she is active in the community, her practice is primarily with vanilla people, it was wonderful to go somewhere where I did not have to filter the "Master" word out of my vocabulary and have someone who knew what a collar was and took the time to compliment me on it.

If you live locally and want a referral...

***

Last night I was in a not too uncommon prickly mood. Perfectly comfortable to do my own thing, to crank out an "adequate" meal. But Master could sense I was a little snappy, a little irritable and was all over it, deliberately poking at me just to watch my hackles rise up and giggle maniacally when I would swallow it down over and over. He was having a mind fuckers super fun night.

He kept poking me. (Literally poking, jabbing a finger into me.) And every time I would say, "Yes, Master, is there anything I can do for you?" He would grin and giggle a little evil cackle. Finally I was just barking "WHAT?!!"

He gave me this wordless narrow eyed glare when I told him what his meal options were. But when I asked him what he would rather have, he just stared some more, clearly enjoying the squirmy feelings I was having. He finally grudgingly settled for the hamburger steak, rice and salad... and as I placed the meal down in front of him, I said... "If there is a meal you would like to have tomorrow, now would be a good time to tell me what you would want so I could make sure to have the ingredients ready." Bastard just gave me another evil wordless grin and shook his head and began to eat.

The poking commenced again after dinner, and I gave up on all pretense, just ignoring him the best I could, avoiding his eyes and clenching my teeth, resisting the urge to rip his head off.

Finally he ordered me up off the couch and dragged (drug?) (I never know which one of those is correct, neither sounds quite right.) ...made me go to the Mall for a forced march up, down, back, forth, up, down, back, forth for about an hour.

At one point he paused and stared at the empty store front that had been the pet store for as long as he could remember and I pointed down the long hallway... "They moved down that way." As we continued marching he asked if one nail salon was where I got my nails done and I pointed another direction, "No, they are down that way."

We found the puppies and paused and stared at them longingly. It has been a long time since we had a dog and we both miss it, even though we are both realistic enough to know that with no kids and both of us working full time that a dog would be pretty lonely all day. But we still stare at puppies with a kind of wistful "awwwww" thing. We were only a little way from the nail salon and I pointed down there and idly commented, "That is the place I get my nails done."

So we proceed, and Master pauses in front of the nail place and stares at me accusingly. "You said the puppies were down here." Um... duh... didn't you see the puppies we were staring at, talking about, going awwwww, dude... what the fuck???? I point back toward the pet store. "No that is the pet store, this is the nail store."

Growl... "You pointed over here and said..."

"No I didn't."

oops.

(Never, never, never argue. Mind fuckers love to argue. Crap, crap, crap.)

So there is this poem...

A B C D puppies.
O L M R not puppies.
O S M R puppies.
C M P N?

So rather than argue, I grin and point pack toward the pet store, and say... "O S M R puppies, C M P N?"

And no matter what Master said to prove I had was wrong about what I may or may not have said, I refused to say anything other than, "O S M R puppies, C M P N?" for the rest of the forced march through the Mall.

Bad back and a new collar.

Another dark, wet, cold weekend. Friday afternoon was our work Christmas party and I had permission from Master to be late. I had baked that recipe of coconut ginger cookies. (I will put up the recipe on Thursday when StrivingForPeace has her cookie recipe exchange.) The cookies were good, but not really right for a go to the bar and drink beer snack. (Darn that lady that asked us to bring cookies... nobody else did... pffft...)

But the bad thing was late Friday afternoon, I started getting this ache and twinges in my lower back. Ick... the last time I had lower back issues was the day about two years ago when Master very decisively and physically demonstrating to me, that we had descended down this rabbit hole far enough that there was not climbing back out .

The party was okay, but I don't function well in crowds and I did not stay long. By the time I got home, my back was threatening to go into spasms. Master got home almost the same time I did and while it was still early. I don't know if it was the party or the pain in my back I was tired and fell asleep early. And when I woke up in the morning I was in serious pain.

We had a funny morning. Master was sending me all kinds of mixed messages. Let's go grocery shopping early... Lets go "take a shower". (Master speak for take an hour having sex under running water.) Shower sex is not a quicky and is almost inevitably followed by a nap. A suggestion completely at odds with the "early shopping" plan. Now I am easy to command, but nigh on impossible to stop once I get started on said command. Once I had that grocery list in my hand, I was giving him a "you have got to be fucking crazy" reaction when the shower topic entered the scene. I am the type to have a serious meltdown if I see a "detour" sign.

For my "you have got to be fucking crazy" reaction, I got another physical demonstration that I was not in charge around here. I got shown this in no uncertain terms. We arrived at the grocery store far from early. And my back was totally bitching me out for my stubborn, frantic struggle against those strong, no nonsense hands as they bent me over the edge of the bed and alternately spanked and held me down as he fucked some sense into my stubborn head.

Suffice to say, Master was just a bit smug as we walked around the grocery store and I was far more emotionally and mentally flexible, even if my back was the exact opposite.

***

Cool thing though, my collar came yesterday. It was funny, I was wildly excited and was tearing at the paper and guess what, son number one and Livie walked in the front door. Poop... I had forgotten I had said I would baby sit. Everything got put away.

Later Master asked me why and I looked at him with this "I just wish you could realize how important this is to me." pained expression and murmured, "I want it to be just you and me. I want to kneel at your feet when you to put it around my neck and tighten the screw."

We ended up babysitting until late but before bedtime I got my moment, on my knees at his feet. I am not sure if Master puts the same kind of symbolic meaning into having me wear a collar as I do. But he did take a certain "technical" interest in the design and gave it his official approval as to fit and appearance.

At first I was a little unsure as to the fit. But the circle is round, so it does feel a little wide on the sides but the front to back dimension is perfect and it does not rest on my collar bones. If I had gotten a smaller size, it would press on my adam's apple. I slept in it and never once was bothered by it. (Unfortunately I was bothered endlessly by not being able to find a position that did not make my back hurt.) And already this morning it feels like I have worn it all my life.



It is shiny and strong. It feels exactly right, rigid and inflexible, like my Master's hands around my throat.

...And now I better get up off my ass before my back freezes in this position. The only real solution is to keep moving.

I am a smart ass.

So it was a busy, busy day at work. I started out filling in for a coworker that had to go to a training. I raced through her job and headed for my own, never once slowing down all day long. In the middle of my lunch the walkie-talkies all started buzzing with a apb about a kid that ran from staff and I had to walk away from my nice warm chili and search the entire building and then the grounds in driving ice cold rain. Sweet... we never found him, but he was one that knows how to walk home. Crazy kids, it was nasty wet outside.

Then when it was finally over, the last bus driving away in the fading gray day and I sat down and took a long deep breath, my boss walked in and said, "Don't get comfortable. We have a bus coming back." Groannnnnn.....

The kid was all, "I didn't do anything." And we were all... "Whatever... Now we have to figure out how to get you home." When one of the options being tossed in the air was wait for his dad to come get him in two hours he let out a deep exasperated groannnnnnn... and I laughed, "You know that was the exact same sound I made when I heard your bus was coming back."

I ended up driving him home in the school van. Typical, I am the only staff person that has kept their driving credentials current, so I am the go to person to schlep the little monsters home when they can't follow the bus rules.

***

Tomorrow is the work Christmas party and Master has given me permission to be home late. When I got home, I threw together a quick recipe of coconut cookies. On impulse I chopped up some candied ginger and dumped that in with the coconut. Master is not a big fan of ginger so I thought it would be fun to try something different on my coworkers.

When Master came home he headed for the cookies and I warned him, "Those have ginger in them."

He gave me a puzzled look. I shrugged and said, "Yes, I am cheating on you. I have started baking for someone else." As I got down on my knees for our ritual Master is home greeting. Suffice to say, the normal few happy to see you swats were replaced with a nearly unbearable flurry of blows with a handy spatula. I was soon squealing, "They are for work, the Christmas party. Please, ouch, I will make you cookies, ouch, ahhh..."

He finally stopped and after a humiliating order to pull down my pants he touched up the glow here and there and finally stopped. I knelt there, exposed and asked, "Do you want cookies?"

"No."

"Then why did you spank me so hard?"

"Because you were being a smart ass."

I could not help but protest that the "cheating" statement was a joke, that I was not being a smart ass. I was trying to be funny...



...and got another series of swats. I ended up howling, "Yes, I AM a smart ass, I AM a smart ass, I AM a smart ass!!"


He ate a cookie and said they were perfect, not too gingery. I ate one bite and they are double yummy.



I am a smart ass... or at least my ass smarts.

Humiliation revisited

I did not end up going to the Erotic Humiliation thing. I did not even ask again, even though he had never really said no. He had just emanated disapproval. And perhaps, it would have been just a little too embarrassing, a little too humiliating to show up to something like that alone.

There are lots of other things happening this month that he has said yes to. Yes to going to the erotica writers group, yes to a body work class... and a maybe to a munch where there is an open mic thing for people to read their stuff... in public. I have an unspoken fantasy of reading my poem "Devotion" (you can find it under the poetry key word at the bottom of the page)out loud, dedicated to him, with him there in the audience. We will see.

Speaking of humiliation, which seems to be the topic of the day... he made some callus, selfish directive and emphasized it with the word bitch and all he got was that suppressed giggle grin. He grabbed me by the throat and glared at me. "Seems like the word bitch is not quite humiliating?"

The grin just got wider.

He pushed me down, pinned me to the bed and narrowed his eyes, "I think I will call you..." And he paused thinking.

I lay there, wide eyed waiting. Words like cunt, whore, slut dancing about in my head.

"...Pooh bear." Gahhhhhhh!!!!!!! Bastard, mind fucking bastard!!!!!


This morning he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I shrugged and said that I thought that the recumbent tricycle was my present for every day of the year for the next three years. Then I said tentatively, "but... if I could have anything I wanted... I would ask for a ring of steel 1/4 inch stealth collar."

He directed me to show him the images and said, "Okay, order it."

That is how things are done. I tell him what I want. He gives me permission to purchase it. So easy for him. No surprises for me. And I don't much like surprises anyway.

Humiliation?

The local leather organization is sponsoring a class in a local dungeon this afternoon. "Introduction to Humiliation and Erotic Embarrassment" A couple of days ago, I had told Master about it and he made a face, frowned, wrinkled up his nose and shook his head.

I countered with a, "would it be permitted to attend by myself?"

The frown got deeper and he stared at me, perplexed and just a little weirded out. Finally he asked, "Are you really interested in that?"

Oh, god, how humiliating and erotically embarrassing. It was hard to say, "Yes."

He did not say yes or no, but there has been a bit of a flavor change in his tone since then. The 'bitch' word has been coming out a bit more often, the sex has been a just a little more humiliating. And yesterday, when I was all... "I want to get going early. I want to get some shopping done early before the crowds."... he lifted an eyebrow and unzipped his pants and pulled out a lovely hard on and pointed at the computer and said, "You are going to give me a blow job before you go anywhere." So I was on my knees, head bobbing up and down, trying to keep spit and tears out of my hair while he watched some skinny girl get it up the ass by a guy who was still wearing a cowboy hat.

That would have been humiliating if it hadn't been so funny.

I wonder if Master can really humiliate me. My absolute confidence in his love for me kind of undermines it, it always comes off as play or pretend. And I always want to giggle. And I remember once realizing he does not really want me debased, he wants me happy.

Anyway, I was done quickly and up, washed my face, sucking the flavor of sperm out from between my teeth as I headed out the door. I got a lot done, grocery shopping and then I was off down to the big city and the main reason to drive across the bridge, Powell's books. The best book store in the world. I treated myself to a gingerbread latte and bought myself a little package of extra hot ginger gummy bears at the Whole Foods store. (I also got some dried peaches for Master but they were BAD BAD BAD... we ended up throwing them away.) I got that new Mark Twain autobiography for my mom and dad.

I put together a couple of Christmas packages and stood in line at the post office. (Side note: What is it with all the sick people? Everybody was coughing and sniffing. It was like being at the TB ward. The last thing I need is to get sick. I started to wish I had one of those face masks, like Michael Jackson wore all the time.)

It was a rare beautiful day. Bright and sunny, if a little windy and cold, so I changed out of my cute little 'got to the bookstore' corduroy skirt and pulled on some warmer clothes and went out to do something about the drifts of oak leaves in the back yard.

Master's master plan is to drive the bagging lawn mower over these leaves, grind them up and suck them in all in one swell foop. Run in a circle around the lawn and stop at the compost pile and dump, rinse and repeat. So I was out there, pulling and pulling on the rope, giving that lawn mower the piss eye and muttering to myself. "Fucking damn machine. I know you would start for him, but me???? fuck no... fuck no..." I don't want to disturb him. He is finally working on that car in the garage. The last thing I want to do is distract him for even a second. Finally I surrender and march up to the garage and grab a rake. He looks up from his mechanics... "What are you doing?"

I shrug and pun, "I am better at sucking off old jerks than I am at jerking off old suckers." He shook his head and followed me down to the back yard and gave me a lecture on how to start lawn mowers and with one... ONE pull he had it was purring. (that was humiliating.)

So I got all the leaves in the back yard picked up.

Son number one came by with Livie and I cut his hair and I sat down at the computer with him and ordered a family membership at the local science museum for their Christmas present.

We had Philly Steak sammiches for dinner... all in all a good day.

Gonna come, bitch?"

I remember once, when asked by someone only slightly less experienced in this thing that we do, "What is aftercare?"

I snorted and said that is when he tells you to get up and cook something for him to eat. Well, it may have been more pithy than that, maybe something like, "Make me a sandwich."

That "something" happened tonight. I had been good, put on my collar and wrist cuffs, but had not put on the ankle cuffs because I was still doing chores around the house and had on some warm boots. He picked up my wrists and eyed the cuffs and then shot a meaningful look toward my ankles. I mumbled something about not having them on and he pointed toward my room, where they were.

I pulled off my boots and then my pants and buckled the black leather cuffs around ankles and then stood looking at him, not sure yet if the something was really going to happen and what the something might be. He reached out and snagged a nipple, grabbing and pinching hard and walked out of my room, still gripping hard. I trailed after, gasping and giggling. The sharp corner and the staggering dance down the stairs only twisted and tightened the vice-like hold he had on me. By the time we were at the door of his lair, the giggles had stopped and the yelps and yips had started.

He pulled off my panties and tied me face down, spread eagled and spent a lot of time making sure the ropes were short and taut, making sure I could not move. I made sure to work my head under a pillow, today I did not want to watch, I wanted to close my eyes and watch the play of light behind my eyelids. I wanted to sink below the barrage of blows, the surging tide of pain and lose myself in the sensation.

I did not cry out much... or laugh. I whispered and hummed. I groaned and sighed. It was a song punctuated with the staccato sound of the strikes on my body. Naked from the waist down, he played a symphony on my ass, legs and feet. And I was flying.

In the end he freed one of my hands and placed my vibrator in it. His hands were heavy and hot on me, his voice in my ear, "Gonna come, bitch?" And yet, each time I tensed, each time I began to shudder with the pending explosion, he would hit me again, twist my flesh in his hands and say it again, "Gonna come, bitch?" He spread the cheeks of my ass out and I knew he was staring down at me, at my ass and cunt, pulling open to his eyes and he gave me a little shake, "Gonna come, bitch?" His fingers worked their way deep into me, filling me, stretching me and he asked one last time, "Gonna come, bitch?"

And I did. Exploding, fighting the ropes that held me stretched and spread, screaming to him, for him.

And then he took my free hand and tied it once more, tightening the binding ropes one last time and he left me there. Limp, panting, with a soft, lazy smile on my face. This, this being left tied to the bed, unable to move, that was aftercare.

Though it was only a little while. He needed his dinner after all.