Alright, this “war” has gotten blown way out of proportion. This is my last post on the subject and then I’m dropping it and moving on to happier stuff. My last post “Disposable” was not an attack on Carrie Ann, even though she believes it was. I do not for second believe that she loves her son any less than I love mine. I’ve been reading her blog for nearly a year now and I do believe that her and Taylor have a wonderful relationship and that he would never harm her child. I understand she was talking in the realm of “what ifs” and it’s easy to say what you’d do in a given situation when you know in your heart you’ll never be put in that situation. I also believe that if it came right down to it, if push did come to shove, that she would do what she had to do to defend and protect her kid, most moms would. Not all moms would though and that’s what scares the shit out of me. There are women out there that no matter what the man did, she would put him above her kids and that bothers me. It just does. On a primal level as a mom, it disturbs me that some women (not talking about Carrie Ann) would and have made horrible decisions regarding their kids. Take the case of Susan Smith from 1994. She had two beautiful little boys and that by all accounts she loved dearly. Then she met a man who did not want to be a Daddy to them so she chose to kill them because she put the boyfriend before her kids. Extreme example, yes, but you hear about similar cases on the news all the time and it worries me. I have read on other blogs that the slave should put her Master above all else, including the kids and that is just wrong in my opinion. I’ve also heard it stated on several blogs that as slaves we don’t have the option of walking out the door of our own free will and I get that. I too have that “can’t leave” clause, but (there’s always a but, lol) if I thought Daddy was hurting my kids, slave or not - I’d be out the door with my kids before he even realized whats happened. I also believe other mommy slaves would do the same exact thing, that even though we know it’s not going to happen, that these men love us, our kids, and we’re a happy family - I believe that if it turned out to be a huge lie and he was a monster, the mom inside would prevail over the slave inside because being a mom trumps being a slave.
The point of my last post was simple - it’s a horrible thing as mom, slave or vanilla, to put a man ahead of your minor children. It’s my opinion on the topic, that was talked about on other blogs, but most recently on Carrie Ann’s and it sparked something inside me. It was not written as an attack and I believe anyone who reads this blog regularly will understand that.
It bothers me how many mothers out there are willing to sacrifice their kids for their BDSM relationship. WTF?? How selfish and cold could you be? Is being beaten, humiliated and abused into one helluva orgasm worth getting rid of your kids for because they’re in your kinky way?? It’s insanity!! The high someone gets from heroin is probably like Heaven for 10 minutes too, but I wouldn’t throw away everything in the world for that feeling and it’s the same thing with BDSM. I love BDSM as much as the next sub/slave and wouldn’t want to give it up for anything in the world….except for my kids. Mom trumps slave - it just fucking does!
I hear women say they did all they could to make it work, but in the end it wasn’t working out so the kid was the one who got the boot not the Dom/Master. Maybe they think they’re being the perfect little slave girl, but what they’re really doing is being one of the world’s worst mothers and they’re fine with being that as long as he pats her on the head and says “good girl - way to throw the kids under the bus for me”. I find it appalling that any mom would choose kinky sex, bondage, and submission in general over her kids. Some things in life are more important than BDSM and your kids should be one of them. I’m getting on my high horse, but it’s my blog and I can so deal with it. There are many things I would risk for the sake of my D/s relationship, family, friends, employment, but there are two things I would NEVER risk no matter how God like I thought he was and those things are my kids and actual freedom (prison). Those two things are non negotiable. Period. End of story. Daddy would never put me in that position because he knows that I would walk and maybe that makes me the world’s worst slave/sub, I don’t care. Up until they both turn 18 - being a mom trumps being a slave, damn it!!
I’ve also read that even if the Dom/Master was abusing the kids - she would send the kids away for their protection, but would continue to stay with her Dom/Master (the kids’ abuser) because as his slave she doesn’t have the option to leave. That’s just stupid. You’ll send the kids away to protect them, but stay with the asshole who did the abusing in the first place because you’ve got something to prove about how stupid good you can be. Dominance/submission is an illusion. A carefully crafted and wonderful illusion. Yes, you can too walk out the damn door, unless of course, you forgot how to work a doorknob. The whole “not allowed to leave” crap feeds right in to the illusion that we all love, but shouldn’t vote the kids off the island over. Maybe women this dumb are doing their kids a favor by sending them away to live with more intelligent people.
It is hard to make a D/s relationship work with kids, but I’m doing it!! It is possible. There are times that I wish my mom would keep them for a weekend, but I would never send them to live with someone else just to suit my own selfish needs. Women who put men above their kids make me sick and probably shouldn’t have breed in the damn place. Your kids are not disposable like garbage for the sake of a stupid whip!! Get a fucking clue!
P.S. This post is not directed at Carrie Ann at “A View From the Floor” even though she thinks it is. I’ve heard many other slave/sub moms say the same thing - the man would come first over the kids. I think that’s wrong whether you’re in a D/s relationship or not and THAT is what this post is about.
Daddy had a three day weekend and we had a lot of big plans with what all we were going to do, so what did we end up doing? Playing World of Warcraft aka - Worldcrack. It’s addictive just like crack and you lose all sense of time too. I was never a “gamer”, Daddy’s played for years, but I wasn’t interested in it at all. Then he decided he wanted me to play, that it would be fun to play together, level our characters together, etc…. Well, I hope he’s happy because I’ve become full-on WoW addicted. I’m a friggin “gamer” now. lol I even dream about it at night - how hooked is that?? I use to dream about bondage, blood, and sex and now I dream about blowing mutant spiders away, WTF??? lol
That’s not to say we didn’t drag ourselves away from our computers long enough to have some actual reality fun!! *smirk* We were playing around, talking about increasing our efforts to find a suitable female playmate and I started sucking his cock while he talked about all the things he wants to do with her, wants to see me do with her, etc. Then he said something that just floored me, something I so was not expecting, but had secretly (OK, not so secretly) wanted for a long time - he wants to watch me fuck other guys!! Woo Who!! I’m not sure why that’s so hot to me, but it is. Oh, hell, I do too know why it’s appealing to me - I’m a slut in every sense of the word!!
Short post - off to play some more WoW!! I’m going to have to join a support group over this damn game soon! lol
These are a few of the things I hear when I mention young kids + slavery = damn near impossible if you want to maintain your sanity.
I realize and begrudgingly accept that kids of all ages present an obstacle to a 24/7 power exchange relationship, however, it’s my firm opinion that small kids make it much more of a challenge. Notice I said kids - plural. I’m not saying that having only one child is a piece of cake, but back when we had only our son, life wasn’t nearly this chaotic and my submission seemed to come more easily. Add a baby into the mix along with a toddler and Rose here is one stressed to the max momma. Always being stressed out does not bode well for my submission to Daddy.
Let me share a day in my life - I start by only getting 4 hours of sleep every night because Daddy works second shift and when he gets home around midnight those few hours until 3am are our only time alone together. So I go to bed around 3 am, I don’t always fall right to sleep so it may be almost 4 am before I’m actually asleep. The baby gets up between 7 & 7:30 am and the toddler is usually right behind her. I make him breakfast while she screams for her bottle. If I make her bottle first, he’s in my face “momma, momma, I’m hungry! momma, momma!!” Change diapers, change clothes, turn on the t.v. to cartoons and cartoons are what will be on all day long. I now fucking hate Sponge Bob Square pants. During all of this, demolition derby is going on, our son takes random stuff so I chase him around to get it back - the remote, a cell phone, a coat hanger, etc. pretty much whatever he finds that he knows he’s not suppose to have. With these these objects or a toy, he’s probably whacked his sister with them and now she’s screaming so I have to console her. He’s jumping on the couch, he drags out every toy he’s ever owned into the living room, he thinks mommy is his own personal jungle gym if I dare sit down for a minute and he tortures his sister. He trys to pick her up (she screams), he once tried to give her a wheel barrel ride (she screamed), he trys to rough house with her (she screams), he yanks toys away from her and she screams. While all this is going on, Daddy is still sleeping. Around 10 am is when Daddy usually gets up. Remember “Alvin and the Chipmunks”? I’m Dave. Seriously, I yell my son’s name like he yelled at Alvin all day long. Lunch is joke, I make lunch and son picks at it. I tell him that’s his lunch and not to ask for anything else - HA!! Who the hell am I kidding? Asking for food every 5 minutes is this child’s job. In between dealing with the toddler, there are dirty diapers to change on the baby, bottles to give, and she’s learning to self-feed so that’s just more mess to clean up. Daddy helps when he can and sometimes I do get a nap in before he goes to work, but once he leaves the chaos continues. Around 6 pm it’s dinner time and once again Mr. Picky won’t touch what I’ve cooked because he wants a hot dog - I give him a hot dog, nope - he wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich - fine - a few bites and he says he’s done. Then I look over and the baby has a big glob of jelly on her head. Now here’s the fun part - bath time. By the time I get both of them washed I look like I just took a shower with my clothes on. It’s a fight - everything is a fight. So we’re coming into the home stretch and it’s almost bedtime - THANK GOD!! The baby is an excellent little sleeper, son on the other hand is in and out of his bed and the Dave style yelling continues until he finally he goes down to sleep. By the time the day is over and done with - I have steam coming out of my ears, my fangs and claws are out and I’m about fit to be tied. Then there are a few, not everyday, surprises that son likes to throw in just to make things even more interesting around here. We’re potty training him - he wants privacy (he won’t go if you’re standing there) I thought he was doing his thing, but he’d been in there a little longer than usual so I went to check on him. Shit. Literal shit - feces is on the door, the floor, the wall, the door handle, him - it was a nightmare of gigantic proportions!!! So yeah, do you see now why younger kids are more of a challenge to a M/s relationship? Older kids do bring their own unique challenges, but NOTHING like what small kids do. If I didn’t have to be on my feet chasing someone, getting something, doing something all day and could breath - I wouldn’t feel such an issue with my slavery because by the time Daddy gets home, the last thing on earth I want to do is drop to my knees and cater to someone else’s whims. I want down time. Call me selfish, but I want some *me* time. I don’t get lunch breaks, weekends off, or vacation time - this is how it is EVERY SINGLE DAY. I am complaining about my kids even though I love them dearly and I’m thankful to be able to stay home home with them - even if it is pure chaos. I know this is just how motherhood is and that all moms feel stressed out by the unrelenting demands of their kids, but I still say that being or attempting rather, to be a lifestyle slave is harder when you have young kids in the home too.
I told you all of that - to tell you this. Daddy and I have dropped my status from “slave” to “submissive”. Yeah, titles don’t mean a whole lot, but just saying that I’m a sub and not a slave somehow lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. The pressure of being everything to everyone all the time was getting to me and making me doubt if I could live this lifestyle anymore. We refuse to go back to being just partners, so that left finding a solution so we could go forward in our D/s relationship. Daddy changed two rules that have made all the difference in the world as to how I feel now about sumbmission. I don’t have to crawl around the house anymore is the first rule he dropped. Now, when I’ve had a particularly hectic day I don’t have to drop to my knees and try to be the docile, beck and call, slave girl. Daddy will get his own drinks and such. Also, two nights a week he said I could go on to bed before he gets home!!! I’m going to get an actual full night of sleep twice a week!! Him saying that felt like Christmas morning to me!! However, on the nights when we play everything is back in full effect, even the crawling around the house. Those are pretty much the only three changes and everything else stays the same, but it’s enough to help me enjoy this lifestyle again! I may have just found my balance, now I need to work on the grace part of my submission….
Sorry for the hiatus, but a bad storm came through here and it knocked out the cable so we’ve not had the internet or t.v. for a couple of days. It’s been hell, I didn’t realize how depended we’d become on the internet or cable t.v. until they were gone. Anyway, on with my post that is now almost 3 days old, lol.
I’ve tried to write this post several times already, but it all just seemed to come out in a jumbled mess. Of course, the constant interruptions from my kids didn’t help my concentration any either!! If this post jumps around a lot and doesn’t make much sense then I apologize.
Daddy and I know that I’m going to continue having episodes regardless of what we do or don’t do. We also know that since we want to go further in our relationship and with my submission, we can’t wait for the magical day to come when I’m cured because it’s not going to. He’s decided “screw the disorder” and to push me through it kicking and screaming if he has too. Sad thing is - he will have to. I am so not submissive during an episode, but that’s not the only time. Since every single time I’ve ever acted out or broken a rule couldn’t possibly be bipolar related, I’ve started to question if I really am the submissive type and if I’m cut out for this type of lifestyle. The interest is there, the desire is there, but I don’t know if the ability is.
He doesn’t want a robot or a doormat and that’s good because I don’t know if that’s something I could be. What if he did want that? Could I do it? Part of me says “yes” because that’s the correct answer to give, but I don’t think it’s actually true. He says he’s going to break me down and rebuild me as he wants me to be. It’s everything I said I wanted and now I’m scared. I don’t think I fit well into the submissive mold because I’m opinionated, strong willed, sarcastic, feisty, high strung, competitive and aggressive - not fitting qualities for a slave. Maybe what I really am is just a kinky lover.
I’m getting my wish, everything I moaned on and on about in my last post and now I’m wishing I had something to hide behind because “bipolar” doesn’t cut it anymore. Being vulnerable is hard for me. Letting go and *being* submissive is hard for me. I don’t want to let go. I don’t like doing something I don’t want to do simply because I was told to do it. I still want to be right and win the fight. Sometimes I still have the attitude of “how dare you” when he punishes me or tells me I can’t have/do something I want. I’m afraid for him to break me, I’m afraid of what/who I’ll become. Will I recognize her? Will I like her? There are so many things about me right now that I would love for him to change, to fix, but it’s scary at the same time because all these things are *me*. It’s who and how I’ve been my entire life, it’s what I know, it’s what’s familiar and safe. I’m also afraid that he won’t be able to break me, I’m afraid of failure on my part to become who/what he wants. I’ve tried so many times to be more docile, just like I’ve tried to control being bipolar without medication and with both things I’ve failed miserably.
Sometimes it’s hard to relate to him as my Master because for so long he was my partner, my husband. As most wives do, I learned how to manipulate him and sadly that didn’t change when the dynamic of our relationship changed. I still found ways to impose my will over his, I knew that if I pushed long enough and hard enough that I’d get my way. I can’t get away with that crap anymore and it’s scary to me because I can see him already starting to break me of my old habits and change is often met with resistance. There has been much resistance on my part, even though I’m getting what I said I wanted - go figure. Sometimes I think it would be easier if we’d met while in this lifestyle - if he’d always just been my Master and that as his slave was the only way I knew how to relate to him, but it’s not. I remember so clearly how we were before and I’m not saying that I want to go back, I’m just saying it’s hard to make and maintain a 180 degree turn.
I’ve been listening to a Bruce Springsteen song “Brilliant Disguise” and crying because a lot of the lyrics hit close to home for me. Especially the line “Is it you baby or just a brilliant disguise?” because that’s how I feel about my slavery/submission. Is it me or just a disguise? I also like the last line “God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of.” I also relate it back to my submission - I’m doubting what I’m sure of it is that I want, who I want to be. The power exchange light switch has been flipped, I’ll never be able to go back into the dark, but that doesn’t make seeing the light easy.
Friday and Saturday night he started the process of breaking me down. This is a list of all that happened, I would put it in story mode to give a play by play of when and how, but I can’t remember. I was in some serious head space during and after all this so I can’t go by my memory of the sequence of events. While doing these things, there was also an intense interrogation type of conversation going on.
- got the shit kicked out of me while Daddy was wearing steel-toe boots.
- Daddy pulling me by my hair to lead me with and nearly pulling it out by the roots.
- fucked up the ass with no lube while having my panties shoved in my mouth to muffle the screams.
- held by my hair and face fucked until I was crying, gagging, and vomiting.
- fucked very roughly vaginally.
- face slapped repeatedly.
- shoved up against walls and thrown to the floor, got a carpet burn on one occasion.
- when I crawled, he put his foot under me and flip me over repeatedly.
- strangled until I was dizzy and thought I was going to pass out.
- forced to have several orgasms. Some I wanted, some I didn’t because I was angry and hating him.
- punched in the stomach and on the arms,thighs. Repeatedly punched on both breasts like he was training for a boxing match.
There were a few times that I was genuinely afraid of him like he’d lost control of himself, but he hadn’t. All of the above really did “put me in my place”, but it was short lived which now has me doubting how slave-like I really am. Then again, maybe there’s not a damn thing wrong with me and I’m doing the best I can at juggling everything in my life. Maybe I need to stop over analyzing everything.
Here is the Bruce Springsteen song “Brilliant Disguise.”
The title is a quote from the movie “Mallrats” - love that movie!! We like to quote movie lines… it’s something we’ve just always done.
In my last post, I didn’t really want to go into what’s pissed me off because I was still processing it myself. Sometimes writing it out helps to clear things up and other times it all comes out a big jumbled mess, so I decided to keep the post short and sweet until I figured it all out in my head.
What has me upset is - I want more from my slavery, I want to give more. I want to FEEL owned even during the vanilla times when I’m chasing an active toddler while also dealing with a crying baby. I feel so frazzled during these times that it would be so nice if I could feel like something else besides a frumpy mom. It’s great when the kids go to bed, he comes home from work and it’s just the two of us free to be who we are Master/slave. Most of the time it’s great to have to crawl around the house, naked to get things for him and he enjoys watching me walk back on my knees bringing it to him. Sometimes he makes me push things to him using only my nose. I love humiliation play and I want more. Sometimes more doesn’t seem like an option, he seems hesitant and I now I know why.
I would love to have the kind of domination in my life where my wants/needs/desires didn’t particularly matter. I would love it if he would/could beat it into my head that his wants/needs/desires come before mine. I would love to have a certain level of fear of him. Not the kind of fear where I’m afraid for my life or that he’d maim me, but the kind of fear that is like “Do as I say - or else!!” Sometimes and though we are getting better at it, the “or else” isn’t there. When it is, it’s usually not what I pictured in my fantasy. I actually started believing he was just too nice of guy and that my world was crumbling because he wasn’t as in to all of this as I am. I was wrong.
Today was a bad day - I stomped around and acted out and nothing was said or done. Yes, the kids were right there and they are a large part of why my day was going to hell. Yes, he can’t very well slam me against the wall right there in front of them and yell at me about my place in our dynamic, but sometimes I really wish he would do something - anything. I want him to take my submission from me. I’m not intentionally trying to take my power back, but if it’s not being used and it’s just flopping around like fish, then yeah - guess I do. I have a tendency to fall back in to vanilla wife mode too and want to win the fight. I want to be right. It’s a holdover from when we were partners - you’ve heard the saying “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”. That was me. It’s a behaviour I haven’t learned to let go of and I really do want to. I resist, but that’s when I want him to TAKE the submission from me. I can’t give it up, I’m fighting to win and even though I know I should, that it’s my place to be wrong (even if I’m not), submission is soooooooooo hard for me when I’m angry.
Which brings me to what I learned from him tonight. The reason he won’t push me further or harder, even though I’ve made it clear I want him to is because I’m bipolar. He’s afraid to push me because he’s afraid of what reaction I will have to it. My track record is not good. I’ve come unglued many, many times - I shoved a shopping cart into someone once at Walmart and for that I’m labeled for life as a hothead. In my defense, I was not on medication at the time and now I am. Yes, I still have episodes, but they aren’t nearly as bad or as violent. Doesn’t matter. I still have episodes and that’s the problem. Whenever I’m in a pissy mood and stomping around the house feeling all icky inside - it’s chalked up to being bipolar. I don’t like it. It’s way too easy to hide behind. I could excuse any behaviour I have and the reason I disobeyed any rule to being bipolar and I don’t like it. I don’t want or like the label of being unstable. It’s not who I really am. He knows me and he knows it’s not always bipolar related, but sometimes maybe it is. Often I don’t see it when I’m having an episode and only see it after he points it out to me.
I don’t know how to get past this. How do we reach a new level in our relationship if he won’t take me to it because I’m bipolar? All this just sucks. I understand his concerns and his reservations about it. This is why he’s in charge - he’ll see a line in the sand and ponder it for a bit deciding which way to proceed and I’ll see the same line and if left up to me, jump right over it because I’m the girl who will leap before she looks.
I need to calm down. Hell, maybe I’m in an episode right now, lol It’s not up to me to direct what road we take or if we ever cross that line. This is his show to run however he wants and I know all that, but still I can’t stop the ache for more, more, MORE! I want him to shove me down, beat me, hurt me, make me cry and brainwash me out of my thoughts and into his.
*heavy sigh*
One day - I believe that maybe one day my mental illness won’t be an issue because we will have found a way to either conquer it or to go around it. God I hope so. I hate this slave angst I’ve got now and I want him to fix it. I want him to fix me, but he can’t. He can’t control my disorder. I sure as hell can’t control it (I’ve tried countless times and failed every single time). The only thing that can control it are two stupid little pills I take three times a day.
Alright….. letting go. I’m going to work on letting go and stop trying to drive the car. Maybe we’ll reach a new plateau and maybe we won’t. I should be thankful for what I do have and stop looking over the the fence for greener grass.
My bubble burst. Damn it. I knew that dreamy, floating feeling wouldn’t last forever, but I wanted it to. Nothing major happened, just your usual life shit that brought me crashing back down to earth.
Now I’m the opposite of where I was - I’m grumpy, pissy and just generally not a happy camper.
Everything will turn around and be fine again, but right now my own head is playing mind games with me. I’m feeling full of cliches today because it’s true what they say - you are your own worst enemy.
Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s sub-drop. Maybe it’s bipolarism. Maybe it’s just life and I need to get over myself. Don’t know. Right now I’m too busy wallowing in it to care.
I’m consumed by the love I have for my Daddy right now. I always love him, but right now it’s just burning hotter, stronger…something’s just different. I feel like I’m walking on a cloud and floating in that lovely, wonderfully delicious sub-space feeling. What brought all this on is the conversation about consistency we had the other night and since then, let me tell ya - he’s been VERY consistent. I can’t get away with jack shit around here anymore, lol. He says he likes having me on a short leash and honestly, I’m loving it too! It gives me such a safe and secure feeling. Peaceful. I know eventually I’ll come back down to earth, but right now I’m really enjoying this feeling.
We had an intense scene last night that also helped to put me into this dreamy feeling. It’s literally like a dream because a large part of it I can’t remember, the memories of what all happened are swirling together in my head. I remember having my nipples thoroughly tortured, Daddy forcing an incredibly intense orgasm out of me and I know I swallowed his cum, but everything else is hazy….love it!
I wanted to put these songs on here for Daddy because they represent how I feel about him. The first is Pat Benatar’s “We Belong” and the song speaks volumes to me. Daddy and I DO belong together - we fit just like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and I’m so in love with him. The second is Tanya Tucker’s “Two Sparrows in a Hurricane”. It’s a beautiful love song that represents our entire relationship, we married so young and everyone said we were fools so I especially love the line “The world says they’ll never make it, but love says they will.” I know to some “love” is the death of a M/s relationship, but for me, love just makes it sooo much stronger. I love my Daddy and I’m the happiest, luckiest baby girl in the whole world! Sorry, I know it all sounds so sappy, but I can’t help it. The last couple of days have been incredible for me and I’m all bouncy, bright and happy right now.
Consistency is hard to maintain in a M/s relationship, or at least it’s sometimes a challenge for us. I want the “in your face” type of domination where there is NEVER any question of who’s in charge around here and sometimes Daddy just wants some down time because he’s not really in the mood to be “Billy Bad-ass” at the moment. When those times happen, it’s hard for me to sit and patiently wait for him to “feel like it” again because it throws me into a tailspin. I feel lost and like there’s a disconnection between us. I HATE feeling out of sync with him, it makes me feel like everything in the world is wrong. I turn into a bitch and a total brat, oh yeah, I’ve got the brat act down pat.
What started it for me was - I’m to get his stuff ready for him before he goes to work, his wallet, cell phone, etc… On the list of things to get are his thumb drives (I’m not a computer person, but they are these small, computer related things he needs for work.) Well, I forgot them and later on when I saw them on his desk, I called to apologize for not having everything ready for him. He said it wasn’t a big deal and the thumb drives were the least of his problems. Now…. to most people that probably would’ve been a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a “big deal”, but it upset me. I felt like if it’s not a big deal, if it’s not EXPECTED of me to have EVERYTHING ready for him, then why am I bothering? I got quiet so he knew something was wrong - I’m not a quiet person, I’ll talk your ear off if you let me. He asked what was wrong and I flat out told him. I told him that it was a lack of consistency, that if it doesn’t really matter then why am I doing it? If I don’t do something that’s required of me, even by accident, that it fucks with my head when nothing is done about it. He was having a bad day at work, I did not know that or I would’ve kept my mouth shut, but he ASKED me what was on my mind, so I told him. It got tense and we ended up in an argument. The fight continued when he got home too - I was pouting and hurt, he was stressed, tired from work and not really wanting to “deal” with me at the moment. We avoided each other and the situation for a while, which just made the gap between us feel so much wider. Eventually we both calmed down enough to talk it out and he understood my need for consistency and that not having it sometimes just fucks with me. He admitted to being a little lax with me and said that he was going to make a conscience effort to hold me accountable when I don’t do something that’s asked of me. Damn, vanilla mode is toooo fucking easy to slip slide back in to.
To reconnect, I curled up with him on the couch and started rubbing his cock through his shorts. I love rubbing his cock and feeling it starting to get hard. He took it out of his shorts and I started sucking on it, mmmm…. He forced his cock down my throat until I started to gag and a little bit of vomit came up in my throat. Then he took his shorts off and told me that I was owned, I was his slut here for his pleasure and to further resolidify that my head, he told me to lick his asshole. Yuck. I HATE doing that more than I hate having anal sex. I’m just not a “butt” person, but I did it. It gave him immense pleasure and I was happy that I was pleasing him, even if I was holding my breath and just trying to get through it. After a while, he pulled me up on top of him and I rode his cock for little bit while he yanked and tugged on my nipples trying his best to pull them off my chest. As he was about to reach an orgasm, he pushed me off of him and told me to suck him off. I love the taste of my pussy on his cock and then I remembered I had just finished my period and there’s always that residual…fuck it, I just went with it until he exploded in my mouth. I didn’t get to have an orgasm, part of his reminding me who’s in charge around here. Of course I would’ve loved to have an orgasm too, but I was one satisfied little whore anyway just feeling reconnected to him as his slave.
Later on we were playing Wow (World of Warcraft - we’re addicted) and I know I’m to crawl to get the things he asks for, but lately he hasn’t said anything when I walked so I kinda got out of the habit of immediately falling to my knees. It happened twice and he called me on it both times. I was not testing him, it was just a mistake, but I was happy that he sent me to the corner for 5 minutes for the infractions. I wasn’t happy about being punished, I never want to be the kind of slave that does shit just to get attention, but I was happy for the consistency. I stood to walk, when I should have knelt to crawl and he put me in my place for not doing what I know I’m suppose to do. I felt so centered and sooo happy - I was floating. Consistency….gotta love it!
I’m lucky that I don’t suffer from PMS like a lot of women do, but I found this icon, thought it was funny and had to use it. I don’t have anything kinky to share since I’m ragging and we don’t play during that of the month, some do and that’s great, but it’s not our style. Yeah, I know - it sounds like a contradiction when self proclaimed “blood freaks” won’t go south of the border during a storm, but menstrual blood isn’t pure blood and therefore isn’t appealing to us.
Anyway…. On with bitch fest part 2
I was reading CNN and Fox News when I read two articles that pissed me off and made me realize that being “politically correct” has gone too far. In Atlanta, some women got their panties in a wad over the “Men Working” signs they post on the roads because as they put it - women are working right along with the men and it’s discriminating against them. WTF? So now Atlanta is spending big bucks to replace all the signs with ones that just say “Workers Ahead”. These bitches even have plans to go national with their discrimination campaign to have all the signs, everywhere, changed. Get a fucking life already!! THIS is the shit that keeps them awake at night?? I think the words “Men Working” do actually include women too - did they ever write down the word “women” and realize that it’s just “men” with a “wo” in front of it? Maybe the words “woman” and “women” are going to be under attack from them next. I’m surprised they stopped at just “Workers Ahead” and didn’t push for “Men and Women too damn it - working ahead”. Personally, I like the thought of a sign that reads ”Men and a few bitches that should be at home in the kitchen cooking, but had to prove to everyone that their balls are bigger - working ahead”. I wonder if they’d like my suggestion? lol. Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, I’m not saying that women aren’t qualified to do the job - I’m saying that forcing a city to spend money to fix road signs that aren’t broken because a few hens felt slighted by the words on it is absurd. All that money could be spent in a much more useful way that would benefit everyone and not just their particular egos.
The other thing that pissed me off has to do with race. I’m playing with fire now because this a very sensitive topic, or at least here in the south it is. Some official somewhere (can’t remember where) got pissed off over the phrases “black hole”, “angel food cake” and “devil’s food cake.” I’m dead serious. Those popular, everyday phrases are threatening to him and he’s waging a war over their use. WTF? He said that “black hole” is offensive to the black community because it’s used as - when something is lost, it disappears into a “black” hole. Once again - THIS is the shit that keeps some people up at night? His beef with “angel food cake” is because it’s “white” and therefore angelic where as “devil’s food cake” is “black” and therefore evil. WTF?? I can’t even think of words to to describe how ludicrous it all sounds to me. These food items have been around for a long time and I’m sure their names came to be what they are because of WHAT they are and never had a damn thing to do with race! In my way of thinking it goes like this - angel food is soft, light, and airy like an angel would be, that “angel” could be black too just for the record and devil’s food is delicious, decadent chocolate that will cause you to eat the entire cake so therefore it’s the “devil’s food”. Maybe it’s just me, but I think some people go out of their way to complicate shit that just isn’t complicated. What’s next for this guy? I bet he’s going after “The White House”, after all it’s as plain as day right there in the name - “White House”. It has to be offensive to someone, somewhere and Heaven forbid anyone feel “bad” so let’s go ahead a change it to “President’s House” so no one feels left out and discriminated against. Fucking assholes with entirely too much time on their hands to bitch about pety shit.
I’m not exactly sure when all this “politically correct” crap got started, but they are taking it all waaaay too far now. I understand handicapped people not wanting to be thought of as lesser people and prefer being called “physically challenged”. We all know they’re handicapped, but if it makes them feel better about it - fine. Same thing with midgets wanting to be called “little people”, it’s the same damn thing only now the word is all dressed up just so it sounds better. I’m not attacking anyone or trying to come across like a bitch - I’m just making my point and my point is this: Call a spade a spade already. Stop dancing around it, using fancy words that aren’t going to change the fact that it is what it is and fucking deal with it. You can’t protect everyone, everywhere from getting their feelings hurt so stop trying. Hell, I’m in an uproar, my feelings are being hurt by all this “politically correctness” that’s gone insayne and I’m feeling “peace of mind challenged” so maybe I’ll start my own campaign to end all the bullshit now. lol
Alright, this “war” has gotten blown way out of proportion. This is my last post on the subject and then I’m dropping it and moving on to happier stuff. My last post “Disposable” was not an attack on Carrie Ann, even though she believes it was. I do not for second believe that she loves her son any less than I love mine. I’ve been reading her blog for nearly a year now and I do believe that her and Taylor have a wonderful relationship and that he would never harm her child. I understand she was talking in the realm of “what ifs” and it’s easy to say what you’d do in a given situation when you know in your heart you’ll never be put in that situation. I also believe that if it came right down to it, if push did come to shove, that she would do what she had to do to defend and protect her kid, most moms would. Not all moms would though and that’s what scares the shit out of me. There are women out there that no matter what the man did, she would put him above her kids and that bothers me. It just does. On a primal level as a mom, it disturbs me that some women (not talking about Carrie Ann) would and have made horrible decisions regarding their kids. Take the case of Susan Smith from 1994. She had two beautiful little boys and that by all accounts she loved dearly. Then she met a man who did not want to be a Daddy to them so she chose to kill them because she put the boyfriend before her kids. Extreme example, yes, but you hear about similar cases on the news all the time and it worries me. I have read on other blogs that the slave should put her Master above all else, including the kids and that is just wrong in my opinion. I’ve also heard it stated on several blogs that as slaves we don’t have the option of walking out the door of our own free will and I get that. I too have that “can’t leave” clause, but (there’s always a but, lol) if I thought Daddy was hurting my kids, slave or not - I’d be out the door with my kids before he even realized whats happened. I also believe other mommy slaves would do the same exact thing, that even though we know it’s not going to happen, that these men love us, our kids, and we’re a happy family - I believe that if it turned out to be a huge lie and he was a monster, the mom inside would prevail over the slave inside because being a mom trumps being a slave. 
