What have I forgotten?

Master is out today, running errands and taking care of things He needs to take care of.  I am at home.  Before He left this morning, He pulled me close to Him and said, "What are you going to do today?"

Not an unusual question by any means, but the intensity of it left me a little rattled.  I told Him my plans, nothing exciting, a little cleaning, perhaps some writing.  My answer seemed to meet with His approval, but I was left feeling like I'd forgotten something.

As I spent the morning cleaning and doing some of my chores, I kept wondering what I could have forgotten, and I couldn't come up with anything.  I finished everything I wanted to get done, then I sat down at the computer.  Surely I had earned a little game-time, no?

No sooner did I sit down with my laptop then the phone rang.  He was calling to check in with me.  He told me how His errands were going, and He would have time to grab a bite to eat before His final appointment (this is good, because I was worried He wouldn't have time for lunch).  Then He asked, in His best Master voice, "So, what have you been doing?"

That little part of my brain that had been worrying before went into panic-mode; surely I must have forgotten something important to Him, otherwise He wouldn't be asking me this again.  While this part of my brain tried to remember, the other part calmly listed all the chores I'd done and told Him I had just sat down for some game-time on the computer.  Once again, He seemed OK with my answer.  He then told me when to expect Him back home, and that He loved me.

The point of this story?  I still can't think of anything I've forgotten, but I do feel very, very owned.

Forgive me Master, for I have sinned...

Last night He told me I was "Topping from the Bottom."

Who, me?  Would I dare to commit the cardinal sin of slavitude?  (That's not a word--I just made it up.  Feel free to use it if you like it.)

The answer is yes, yes I would.

He told me I was TFTB (I just made up that acronym, too--again, feel free to use any time) in the middle a beating.  To be honest, the beating was not going well.  This was not due to any fault of His.  His application of pain was spot on, so no problem there.

The problem was me.  My mind wasn't where it should be.  I didn't like how I was tied up, and that's all I could think about.  Yes, I know, I can hear you saying it:  "Don't like how you are tied up?  Too bad, suck it up, buttercup."  I tried to suck it up, I did, but I failed.  Epically.  All I could do was obsess on how I was tied up.

So, in the middle of the beating, He brought out Mr. Cane.  Unfortunately, I was in no mood for an encounter with Mr. Cane.  And I told Him so.  I believe I said something like, "Not the cane. Isn't it broken by now?  Where's Mr. Blister?"  (Mr. Blister, for those who don't know, is a leather paddle.)

Not very slavey (hey, another new word--I'm on a roll this morning!) of me, and I am surprised He didn't just end the beating right then and there.  But no...He obliged me.  He put Mr. Cane away, and He grabbed Mr. Blister.

Ominously,  He said, "Look at you, topping from the bottom."  Then He and Mr. Blister proceeded to show me the error of my ways.  For the record, Mr. Blister hurt just as much as Mr. Cane.  I have the marks on my ass to prove it.

                                                                              *****

When it was over, we talked about what went wrong.  I apologized and tried to explain where I was at during the beating, and why I derailed.  He reassured me that everything was OK.  He said, "We are good 99.99% of the time.  It's natural that every once in a while, things wont quite work out the way we want."

I love how understanding He is.  But, I wouldn't be surprised if He puts a gag in my mouth the next time He decides to beat me.  That would be one way to prevent the dreaded TFTB.

An Almost-Weekend Update

So what's been happening here in the House of Oblique?  Here's an update...

• The weather has been unseasonably warm, but we refuse to turn on the AC in March.  We are getting by with open windows and a box fan.  There is just something wrong about AC in March, if you ask me.

• Yesterday I did Master's laundry.  While I checked his pockets prior to loading the washing machine, I somehow overlooked the iPod tucked into a pocket of His exercise shorts.  Yes, I washed His iPod.  No, He wasn't angry (yet another reason why I love Him so much).

• Master has decided He wants a spreader bar.  When I (naturally) questioned the need for this, He said it would make me feel more helpless, and as such, the spreader bar was really for me, not for Him.  Eh, what?  Did anyone follow that logic?  I guess Masters have their own unique logic, so complex, that we lowly 's-types' will never be able to comprehend it.  Yeah, that's it.

• We will be alone tonight--our College Kid is staying over someplace else this evening.  Master has indicated that my butt will be beaten.  Here's hoping!

Tip on the Tightrope

The fine line between pleasure and pain; it's the tightrope upon which I balance so precariously...a daring game to see how long I can maintain equilibrium before He knocks me off the wire.

He is on top of me and inside of me, pinning me in place; His thick, hard cock thrusting deep.
Ah, there's the pleasure.  I close my eyes and let it wash over me.

Still thrusting, His right hand mauls my left breast, grabbing, squeezing, pinching. 
Ah, there's the pain.  I keep my eyes closed, and I balance on the tightrope.

Then He grabs my nipple with His teeth, biting, chewing, tugging, pulling, HARD.  His cock in my pussy feels so, so good, but His teeth feel like they are going to bite right through the tender flesh of my nipple and tear it right off my body.

I try to stay balanced on the tight rope, but I start to tip.  The pain is greater; my arms start to flail at my sides.  I notice this and fight the urge to grab Him, to push Him away, to protect my breast.

It hurts, it really hurts, I'm losing the battle, panic threatens to set in...I am going to fall off of the tightrope.

Then He lets go. 

Relief engulfs me.

My nipple continues to throb with pain, but balance is restored.  I stay on the tightrope, for  now.  It's only a matter of time until He manages to push me off, in one direction or the other.  

It's a game He always wins.

No, no, no, no, no... just NO

We went to Costco this morning.  As we pushed our shopping cart down the main isle, one of the product-demonstration people approached me, a woman, thin, middle aged.  She held some type of cloth in her hand--I couldn't tell what it was.  As we got closer, she reached out with the cloth in her hand and said....

"I'd like to talk to you about night sweats."

WTF???!!!???

Night sweats?  Night sweats?

I looked at her, somewhat astounded, and said, "Sorry, but I'm not there yet."

Then I spent the rest of the shopping trip seeking reassurance from Master that I didn't look like a little old lady.  I figured I must be looking mighty old this morning if this strange woman is approaching me about night sweats.

He told me I didn't look old, and He finally said  if I didn't let it go He would beat me until I did.

I let it go (for the remainder of the shopping).  Sort of.  I mean, I know my age, and I know menopause is in my future, but that has to be the worst sales pitch EVER.

Night sweats...pfft.

Two of a kind

Last night, He read yesterday's post and it made His dick hard.  The only solution to that problem was to take me into the bedroom and shove His cock down my throat.

Which He did.

And I liked it.

Good thing we are both wired the same way.

It seems I'm not like the other girls...

Sometimes I wonder why I am wired the way I am.

We were alone this past weekend, from Friday afternoon through Sunday evening.  He took me in the bedroom on Friday and used and abused me.  Nothing new or surprising about that, but it was...different.  Perhaps that's why it's taken me three days to write about it.


Our Friday encounter was simple.  No ropes or restraints, just me bent over the end of the bed, His hand planted firmly in the small of my back to keep me in place.  He used three different implements: a belt, the long-handled shoe horn, and the cane.  He alternated between beating my ass and fucking me.  The beating was hard and fast, and He apparently felt no warm-up was needed.

A few minutes in, when I realized my ass was not going to catch up to speed, and I was literally reminding myself to breath, something changed for me.  I felt disconnected from Him.  He seemed so very focused on causing pain, it was as though I wasn't there.

Objectified, that's the word I want.  I felt objectified.  And it turned me on to be used like that.

Yes, yes, I ended up sobbing, because that's what He wanted, and He beat me until He got my tears.  And yes, He fucked me hard while I was sobbing, which turned me on even more.  It didn't take long for Him to make me cum, either.

Sitting here now, looking back on it, thinking about it, reflecting on the events of Friday evening, I find myself...incredibly aroused.  Aroused and excited at the thought of being beaten, used, and fucked while crying.

So do you see why I sometimes wonder why I am wired the way I am?

NEWSFLASH: One teaspoon of Honey, please

This conversation just took place:

HIM:  (serious Master voice)  Just so you know, I put one teaspoon of honey in my tea, and it was perfect.

me:  (I said nothing, but I did look at Him and give Him the "thumbs up" sign while chuckling)

HIM:  ... (silence followed by "The Look")

me:  (dissolving into laughter)

HIM:  (serious)  You are supposed to remember this.

me:  (hopelessly lost in laughter) What?

HIM:  (still serious)  You are supposed to remember these things.

me: (still laughing):  Why am I supposed to remember that one teaspoon of honey is perfect?

Him:  (still serious):  Because you know how I like my coffee.

me:  (more laughter)  Maybe I should post about it.

Him: (serious til the end) Maybe you should.  Maybe you should ask what would happen if other slaves laughed when their Master told them how He likes His tea.

As you can see, I am posting about it.  Mostly so there is a written record that ONE TEASPOON (no more, no less) of honey is perfect for His tea, because my memory is like a sieve, and I'll forget.

Somehow I don't think this is the kind of post He was talking about...

Bits and pieces

Today started off with a nice round of nipple-pinching (ouch), followed by an even nicer blowjob.

We are not alone this weekend, but we will be alone next weekend.  Yes.

I weaned myself off of coffee this week.  Sigh...I love coffee.  But I haven't been feeling well, and I haven't been sleeping well, so giving up caffeine is the first step to correcting these problems.

The cats no longer bother us at night.  Victory! 

Sadly, that's all I got.