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Wednesday, March 31, 2010

If you haven't yet....

If you haven't yet checked out Fetlife, please do! No, they're not paying me, I just love the idea of being able to connect to kinksters across the universe (or at least this planet) so easily! The groups are interesting and I've been connecting with new people in the scene. Plus it's a great place to find out when events are taking place near you! And someday, when I get less hermity, I'll take advantage of that. ;)

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Domestic Servitude OR How I learned to stop worrying and love my servant

Yesterday, Crumpet wrote on my Fetlife wall: "i do like being your little domestic servant. perhaps one of these days i ought to sleep in a cage." To which I replied, "That can be arranged!"

Right now, as I type this, he's in my kitchen finishing up the dishes. He's already started my laundry and is working towards finishing the "Task List" I made for him. The last task on the list is to bring up the cage from the basement. That's right folks, we just so happen to have a large dog crate in the basement that will perfectly fit my very own Crumpet! Or, rather, my Crumpet will fit in it. ;)

Before he gets to the part where he brings his cage up out of the basement, I have a few things on the list that may drive him to brink of madness! Okay, fine... that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But I am making him clean my room. This is a task I LOATH. (As evidence by my not ever finishing it for... gah, several years!) It was never something I planned to push off onto someone else. I mean, hell, it's my mess, I should have to deal with it. But I don't. I have no problem cleaning any other part of the house, but my room.... blargh! I am particularly bad about putting clothes away. They usually end up sitting, unfolded in the laundry baskets until I dump them into a pile & shove them off to the side 'cause I need the basket to take more clothes to the wash. I really should get rid of some clothes, but I can find a use for most if not all my garments. And it's not like I'm dirty... I'm just messy! And it's not like I'm hurting anyone, it's in my room and nobody lives there but me. If you don't like it, don't visit! (Hmmmm... I'll stop this right now as I'm sounding quite defensive.)

Basically, it's things that I just can't be bothered with. I'd much rather be reading a book or writing one or walking the dog or playing with the cats or cuddling my guinea pig or dancing or swimming or camping or cleaning any other room in the house or watching a movie or trolling the internet or having sex or bathing or baking or brushing my teeth!!!

But now there's Crumpet in his short black skirt, tiny white frilly apron, fishnet socks and bells to do this for me. And he says he likes being my domestic servant. What an evil mistress I would be if I were to take that from him! I shall let him service me.

Blurry Crumpet (from my crappy camera phone)
in his Maid Uniform, with bells!
(He plans to send me a better pic)

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Play Party!

On Saturday night, Sir, Crumpet and I went to a play party hosted by the one and only Delectable Goddess! It was deliciously fun!

The theme was to dress up like a deity. Sir went as Hades, the Greek god of death and the Underworld. I went as Nephthys, the Egyptian goddess who protects the dead. Crumpet was unsure of who he should go as. He was wearing very springy pink skirt with matching flowers, white shirt & shoes which contrasted beautifully with my flowing black & silvery dress and Sir's black skirt, corset & other layers. At first we tried to convince him to be Persephone so Hades could rape him later (a total gender switch) but he eventually decided to go as Eostre, Anglo-Saxon goddess of Spring. It pleased me that we were representing an array of pantheons. I gave him a Cadbury creme egg to carry.

We arrived late & the party had already begun. The party, but not the play. People were grouped in different rooms, talking. It always strikes me as funny that no matter the purpose of the party, there is always a period of polite conversation before things truly get into full swing. (I'm not on any high-horse 'cause I do the same damn thing.) Most of the party goers had not dressed up. Our Delectable Goddess had. She sparkled and shined with an ornate Egyptian looking collar/necklace. The black sheer dress she wore hid nothing yet covered everything. She was exquisite!

The play part of the party began with a present... a seemingly innocent gesture from Sissybitch. He gave Delectable Goddess a poorly wrapped box. Inside the box was a pair of gloves. HER gloves! Gloves she had lost a few months ago. Gloves she had torn her place apart in trying to find. Gloves she had spent hard earned money on to replace. Gloves that were somewhat useless coming to her on the cusp of Spring!

This would not go unpunished.

The Spank-Master had brought along this lovely spanking bench made by the KinkyContractor himself:

The Delectable Goddess and Sissybitch's WickedMistress had him lay naked on the bench face down with his ass prominently displayed. Sir, Crumpet and I positioned ourselves in the kitchen which had an opening above the sink to the next room where the bench was. The view was perfect... except for dishes that were drying on the sill. (I had Crumpet put them and all the other dishes away.)

At one point, Sissybitch was being asked if he really felt sorry for what he did. He said yes, with a smirk. Since his face was towards us and the ladies doling out his punishment could not see him, I felt it was my duty to tell them. He then STUCK HIS TONGUE OUT AT ME! The nerve! The audacity! I, of course, told them that too. They offered me the opportunity to give him a few swats. I was definitely tempted but so steeped in voyeur mode that I declined. (Next time, ladies. I promise!)

Watching them work together was beautiful! One would be lightly cropping his ass and balls while the other smacked his face and called him humiliating things. He was asked, "What are you?" To which he replied, "...a slut! ...a naughty boy! ...a little piggy! *grunt, grunt* ...a teapot!" This brought forth giggles and the question, "where's your handle?" And he sung, "MY DICK IS MY HANDLE!" at the top of his lungs. I missed where his spout was. Sir added a few kinky-altered lyrics that made everyone snicker. Unfortunately, she was facing away from me so I didn't catch them. (Perhaps I'll get her to tell them to me so I can share them with you, dear readers.)

In the other room, a different sort of play took place. The CruelCutter had setup a massage table in the living room with all of his equipment. Using a scalpel, he cut an opening into the Delectable Goddess's arm that he then sutured. It bled pretty. (I like blood!) He sterilized everything, discussing his techniques with Sir who's a tattoo artist & piercer by trade, then got ready for his next victim, errr... yeah, victim! Before he needled pretty designs into WickedMistress's arm, he asked her if she wanted him to be nice or mean. She said, "start nice then get mean." He did this beautifully! The needles were inserted precisely but tenderly. (Well, as tender as you can get with needles.) He then wiggled them, causing her to bleed a bit, followed by a punch and a smack resulting in much more blood! She swooned and laughed her way through it all.

There were other fun happenings, but I shall end this here and now as other writing is taking my attention. Suffice is to say, I had lots of fun!!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Bad Date

Back when I was living in Houston, still a virgin and not dating much, Walter and I met at a New Years Eve party. It was one of the first times I got drunk (I lived a very sheltered childhood) so when he called to ask me out, I had no recollection of him. He mentioned that he got my number from my friend who hosted the party. So I politely asked for his number and said I would call him back.

I called my friend –
Me: Who is this guy, Walter?
Her: His family is a friend of my family; I’ve known him for years. You don’t mind that I gave him your number, do you?
Me: No… I just don’t remember him.
Her: REALLY?? You two talked for hours in the living room, the family room, on the stairs, the kitchen and then outside. He said y’all had some real chemistry.<
Me: Huh…
Her: You seriously don’t remember him? Damn! You were drunk!
Me: *snicker* Well, is he nice? I mean… can I trust him? He wants to take me on a date.
Her: He’s totally nice and he wouldn’t hurt anything. What’ve you got to lose? Take a chance!
Me: What does he look like?
Her: You really were drunk.
Me: Yeah. What does he look like?
Her: Dark brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, crooked teeth... I donno, like a guy.
Me: *eye roll* Okay… well as long as you say he’s okay, I guess I’ll give it a go.

He arrived at my house with flowers. I don’t like cut flowers, but it was sweet and he didn’t know. He smelled of very strong chemically cologne and was really awkward talking to me at the door. But I thought, hey, I'll still have fun, right?

He decided that for our first date (his words), he’d take me to his favorite restaurant. It was an hour away. It was an uncomfortable, long drive and I insisted rolling my window half way down so I could breath past his cologne even though it was quite chilly. I tried to start a conversation several times, but all his answers were monosyllabic. His hands were tight knuckled around the steering wheel and he never once looked over at me, keeping his focus on the road. It was kinda sweet that he was so anxious. I was a pretty awkward and nerdy girl myself so I found it flattering that I could make someone so nervous. (Even still, I kept wishing I’d brought a book.)

The restaurant was a seafood joint in Galveston. At that time, I hated seafood. The place was loud, our table was in the middle of the room where there was no chance of talking (which may not have been a bad thing) and it was big enough to sit a party of ten. After a mostly silent ride, he suddenly became talkative and shouted stories about the other times he'd been to the restaurant and how his parents have a second house in Galveston that he's been known to crash at and the crazy parties he and his friends have thrown over the din. He spoke with his mouth full and he chewed with his mouth open. He also did the heinous thing of ordering for me. The only thing I would eat, was the salad. He shouted, really loud, "You on a diet?" Irritated as hell, I got up to go to the bathroom and, as I walked past his seat, I whispered, "I don't like seafood." When I came back to the table, he had his food in a doggy bag and had paid the bill.

I thought, "good, now he'll drive me home."

Yeah... not so much. He had planned the evening and nothing, not even my irritation and discomfort, was going to disrupt his plan. He drove me to the beach. In his trunk was a case of wine-coolers, a blanket and, when he shook out the blanket, a box of condoms flew out and hit my foot. He grabbed them, tossed them quickly back into the truck and slammed it shut. (I think he thought I might not have noticed what they were since it was dark.) He offered me a wine-cooler and said, "I thought we could sit out and watch the stars.

Without a word, I walked to the passengers side, got in the car and strapped on my seatbelt. I refused to get out and insisted he drive me home.

Now, whenever I have a bad date, I always think, "at least it's not a Walter."

Addendum: When I was talking to my "friend" about it, she confessed that she was glad that his attention had shifted to me because he had been stalking her since elementary school. She then said some other things that shook my memory about the party. The reason we went from room to room then outside was because he would not stop following me. I then recalled that at the party we didn't talk much, he just sat there staring at me.
(Huh, if only I knew then what I know now, I could've had my first slave boy!)