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ponderings, musings, filth, smut, love ... romance, ruminations, redundancy! ... a tribute to Master, a refuge for His baby girl.
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logic + emotion = CONFUSION & CONFLICT
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Nov 30, 2006 7:35 pm
1046 Views
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The other day i was doing my usual and attempting to find reason within someone's thinking (or lack of it as the case may be). Master asked why i was attempting to apply logic to that of a deranged mind.
i guess it makes me feel better. When i can reconcile something to a legitimate point of view, even if differing from my own, i can put it away and not feel the itch (or NAGGING irritation) of wanting to SLAM the person down and get them to see things my way. i really like to put myself in someone else's shoes, NOT because i'm Saintly, but because i'm selfish. i want everything to have a slot or cubby in which to reside. i like order and peace. i do not like to feel that anything is unresolved. i hate confrontation! Disagreement is confrontation, so imagine a fight -- a fight is WAR and my life is surely on the line.
When Master told me that my applying logic was futile, i got riled. Then emotion kicked in. When logic doesn't work, emotion steps in. Master asked why i was again with the emotion when i, by now, have figured out that some people will NEVER cooperate and it is pointless to get bothered by it.
Well, the voice of reason, the voice of the heart -- they both lose (but hopefully win). Either way, i can't quite get it right! i'm just not one to roll over and play dead. When something is wrong, i either must find a way to prove that i'm wrong OR find a way to prove them wrong. Its pretty infuriating actually. i just need to reconcile it all by knowing that SOMEONE is right -- if its them, please may i come around to seeing it, and if its me, please may they come around to seeing it.
Now i'm going to try something brand new.
Now i'm going to use the voice of a prevailing EMINENT prophet!
There are some people who are ALL about the knife. They fight for the sake of fighting. They only are content if inflicting the pain that they themselves feel all the the time. Even when they stand to benefit, they can't even be smart enough to accept it UNLESS they first make certain that no one else benefits at all. They'll cut off their nose to spite their face.
Its not greed really at all. You could give them the multi-million dollar jackpot and that would not appease them UNLESS they first knew that it cost you your blood. They only want to win at someone else's suffering. Your suffering is their prize, nothing else.
If only they had a self-awareness! They're megalomaniacs! They don't think except to scheme and connive in order to punish everyone -- the everyones who know the happiness they wish they could know. But they don't even know to miss it or wish for it! Megalomaniacs know nothing.
So ... that wasn't prophetic, that was logical. Non-emotional. i said it well -- i just did my little essay and i should now feel better that i've explained it. Yet why do i still succumb to the emotion of injustice? Why do i look for the rationale and then still fall victim to anger and tears?
Today i opened one of those letters -- the kind that i usually DON'T read at night. i am incapable of receiving anything that will make me anxious if its at night before bedtime.
i read the personal attack. Some people think they're really clever with words. They hurl them with fancy biting vocabulary -- they douse them first in the sewer and paint it with scum -- then they deliver it with calisthenics of the tongue because everywhere else, they're pitifully inferior.
Funny. They tell everyone else ALL the time, without fail, that you, you, and you are inferior. Their finger is perpetually erect because nothing else is.
i keep telling myself this. i keep telling myself that they THINK they're smart. They're completely driven by an inadequate ego. i tell myself this and i know that the meek are often with a greater inner strength -- we don't feel the NEED to slam others so that we look good. But still ...
i attempt logic.
When that fails, when logic doesn't prevail -- when its clear that attackers and abusers ONLY thrive on attacking and abusing, i react with emotion.
No matter how hard i try, if it surfaces, i react. When its out of sight, its truly out of mind. Please may it go away forever soon! Please may i bury the aftermath of my dead family and the one puny devil incarnate FOREVER AND SOON! Please may it, the devil incarnate, one day have consciousness so that it can really suffer through its wrath.
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Say what you mean; Mean what you say.
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Nov 28, 2006 6:53 pm
1043 Views
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Alright -- i'm guilty. i beat around more bushes than anyone on the planet -- so, okay, lash my bush for beating around the bush -- preferably HARD with a single tail ~wink~ (and well, so much for that as i don't have a bush! -- so there!). Point is, i should get to the point more readily.
But i'm learning. i'm learning. i'm getting better.
MEANWHILE ...
The other day i endured one of those disapprovals from a relative (whom i do love dearly, yes, yes, we know, now go ahead and tell us how much you CAN'T STAND when she does that passive-aggressive thing of couching what she really means to sling). She offered me that kind of direction that makes me want to stop her in her tracks and make her ADMIT to what she's REALLY saying.
my mind silently screams, "Don't play games with me! i'm too smart!".
i was advised that the country i'll be visiting next year is a country where the women really do not wear "heavy eye make-up". She wanted to make sure i knew to tone down the make-up because, you know, women don't wear much make-up over there at all. And when i dress, i best be sure to not wear any of "those" short skirts. You know, they don't like that sort of thing over there. i'll want to be sure to present myself as a "nice" person. "Over there", which really means, 'God i WISH you'd STOP wearing that heavy dark eye make-up ALTOGETHER!'.
Is she suggesting that my smokey eye look makes me look "not nice"? If she says that not wearing it makes me look "nice", well, then, doesn't it stand to reason that, hey, if you've got that look and you're wearing those skirts, you sure ain't depicting "nice"?
Other unsolicited advice included the instruction to make sure i don't look like some American flashy movie-star, about eighteen additional mentions of the heavy eye make-up issue, and some vague inference that i might change my style to look more "respectable".
Note that i said INFERENCE. Sure, she didn't say i don't look respectable, but she implied it. In my opinion, she just shot me down royally!
Now, now, little girl -- you're over-reacting. you're just too sensitive and you are reading into things. Well, FINALLY, i am happy to report that my sensitivity has too often allowed me to think (but not say) "i told you so".
This has nothing to do with visiting a third world country. i'll be visiting a metropolitan city within a third world country and besides, i MIGHT mingle with a movie-star, i MIGHT want to be seen as a movie-star ... and doesn't she think i'm smart enough to NOT wear stilettos while trekking in the desert?
i don't take well to such round-about innuendo!
i want to call her out! Make her confess!
i'm too bothered by approval.
i don't like disapproval.
i love approval.
i've sought it forever!
Disapproval reminds me of criticism and criticism is rarely constructive UNLESS its sought out. Unsolicited is almost always meddlesome and meddlesome is almost always unwelcome.
If you can't approve, if you can't cheer me on, if i didn't ask for input, PLEASE don't crush me with specifications that don't fit my chassis! Master is my driver, Master is my guide. If i'm happy having found my place and if i feel more sexy and more alive than ever before, why do you want to kill something that is finally living?
Wow! i just thought of something! What will i do with these new big tits? Leave them at home with the caviar eyeliner and micro-short skirts? Never! A smart girl is always prepared. Never leave home without essentials and contingencies. Whether i'm under the sun, beneath the stars, or at my Master's mercy, (OR under some other person's SCRUTINY !! ), i'm ready, willing and able. And i'll say what i mean and mean what i say ... even if it takes me a long time to do so. And you can be sure that i'll remain under the thumb and on top of the world ... sex appeal and all ... impoverished or old. It won't matter. Your style will define you, your soul will carry you ... as too will Master.
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Whose line is it ? -- slave's or movie-star's ?
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Nov 28, 2006 5:07 am
1072 Views
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"I'd rather be HIS whore than YOUR wife!"
Ahh, a great line to be quoted through the ages!
Okay, i COULD have said this in my life-time. What potent truth! How many women could (and should!) shout this to their oppressor while aching to be a REAL Man's fervently devoted woman?
BUT, here is the challenge! Do you know who spoke these words and in what film?
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The Hand That Feeds
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Nov 26, 2006 6:18 pm
1163 Views
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i relaxed in the bathtub the morning of the surgery. Master sat there with me. i contemplated. i meditated (even though i don't meditate). i cried! Master said i really am the little girl.
Previously, i looked in the mirror -- i placed my hands out in front of me as if to assess two large honeydews, one in each hand. i had been doing this for weeks! i eyed my hips -- the hips that are designed for swaying and giving birth and as handles for serious HARD ROUGH f-ing.
Its kind of nice that i got to learn about life pre-big boobs. Just ask the girls with naturally big boobs -- they want to be seen for their insides FIRST. They tire of all those divergent, clumsy-and-rarely-discreet eyes. All girls want to be noticed for their persona -- the difference here is that i proved to myself already that my insides are big attractive mahatmas! NOW i'll get to savor all the looks from the curious ones and the admirers -- the stares and the darting eyes that attempt to stay focused on mine while my cleavage steers them into the cavern! There will also be the predators, competitors, and deviants and i will just love it all!
my insides will now be the dessert since i've already known my soul as the main course meal. i'll now know big boobs as a fun peripheral rather than as an obstruction to the satiated desire of being known and seen for talent and wits. When you're born buxom, you crave to be seen without it. When you're born without it, you crave it for exactly the reason the naturally endowed don't want it.
And still ...
There i was in the bathtub ... the morning of surgery ...
Master reminded me how i am a pretty girl and how now i'll be prettier. He enumerated my physical attributes and it reminded me of the card i sent Him a few weeks ago. The illustration shows a woman looking up to a Man and her think caption reads, "my hero" while His reads, "nice body".
i love gender differences! THAT should have been my major! Gender Studies.
Master told me that now i'll be even better ... even hotter ... that i've got a nice compactness, a perfect heart-shaped bottom, the little waist, the nice rocking hips, and that this now will make me a luscious hour-glass. i'll be the epitome of woman, inciting drools, provoking envy.
And still, i apologized and asked if i could fish. He allowed it, but only after first offering up the fish to the bait. "Yes, little girl, you are the BEST f. of My life, the most beautiful, the most devoted slave, the smartest, the quickest, the most clever ..." ---------------- (oh how superlatives soothe little girls ~wink~) ------
----- "But Master, ... Master ... well, she's sorry to ask, but what about this slave's blogs? Do You really like them?"
Poor, poor, pitiful slave. ~smile~
Y/you see? my insides will always be the thing i'll want savored most of all.
Master held my hand. And then He held it tighter still. He offered a few more bones in the form of positive reactions to a few particulars in my blogs and then my tail wagged, my nerves were set at ease.
~~~ + ~~~
Once at the doctor's office, W/we entered the examining room to do the pre-op with the nurse. Master pulled a chair right along side the exam table and as i sat there, He held my hand the whole time. my Master is INSANE this way. i LOVE how He babies me. He again told me how proud He is of me and again, i reminded Him, "oh yes, but Master, You really do love this slave's soul, right? i mean, without a soul, a body is nothing, right? i mean, sure -- a great body is GREAT but it wouldn't mean anything if there weren't a soul contained within it, right?".
And He smiled. Wow did i feel coy. Wow did bold feel sweet and permittable.
Masters don't go around pronouncing love proclamations. They smile. They hold your hand and They let you know in some telepathic way that They love your heart just as much as your ability to take every bit of f-ing They can inflict. And in this case, with this Master, my beautiful Master, i AM superwoman! i can take EVERY bit of Kryptonite He hurls and pumps ... and that's alot of Kryptonite. He's a maniac, He's all Male, and He is my Daddy even though you'd never know it. There is nothing like a superhero expressing tenderness!
Master held my hand. This should be my very own concocted proverb.
When the pre-op nurse was finished, the anaesthialogist had His turn.
i cried.
Master held my hand.
When the doctor came in ...
i cried.
Master held my hand.
When i was called to then follow the nurse into the operating room, i felt okay ... light and happy. Master kissed me goodbye and i started down the hallway on tippy toes. i turned to look over my shoulder not really quite sure if i did it by rote or if Master had said something to have me turn and look at Him again. It all felt like slow motion. Filmic. i blew Him my usual air-kiss. Smiled. And continued.
i entered the operating room.
i cried.
Master was still holding my hand even though He was in the waiting room.
Once situated on the operating table, i was amazed at how comfortable! i even said so. They all knew i was nervous -- i was crying! A few small talk questions were asked, and then i woke up. Master later told me that He knew precisely when i had come out of recovery because He heard only my high pitched recicitation: "oh God oh God oh God". That's when i was moved from asleep in the bed to awake in the chair. i asked the nurse if she was really sure i was ready to go home. i was certain she was disposing of me too quickly! i was in limbo! And in pain!
Master took me by the hand, but this time, it was not because i was crying. Master held my hand as if He had just picked up His pet from the Veterinarian Hospital. He carried me home. He holds my hand but you see, its really that He is holding my leash. He is forever allowing me the most sublime pleasure of all -- the one that is just like the superlatives i aspire to be -- i get to be the loyal obedient pet and i have the supreme comfort and pleasure of being owned.
Master holds my hand. i'm claimed. i'm secured. i'm improved, first emotionally, now physically. i'm with added value ... and still, i always look for His hand.
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once again, ALL i KNOW ... ( my 829th post about ANAL use !! )
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Nov 25, 2006 1:42 pm
1172 Views
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Once again, ALL i know is that i LOVE the way Master handles me. Here i go through such trials and reports -- i think i come to some magnificent conclusion about why i love being Master's slave, and then there are these moments when the entire thesis is erased!
You could elaborate on every angle of every nuance of every association and still, sometimes a biological simplicity requires no explanation, no research, no analysis.
i come to this place, as i did yesterday morning, whereby i know ONLY ONE SINGLE sensation. It is so singular, so only emotional. This morning, i said to myself, "i LOVE the WAY Master uses me". i know, i know -- i think i must probably say this everyday and have said it everyday for over 2 1/2 years! But, feeling used is INSANELY arousing! Here i write about it all the time and yet i feel like i just discovered the sensation for the very first time!
~~~ + ~~~
The day before yesterday, when Master arrived for the Thanksgiving weekend, He first saw me and assessed my new big breasts. i think He loves them more than i do! In fact, you'd think He was the one with the new big boobs ------------ and well, He is! They do belong to Him, afterall. He bought them and interestingly, sometimes i have even thought its no different from Him having purchased a new toy. Oh will W/we have fun! Dildos, the cupping set, clamps, baby's new big TITS! Alright! (This reminds me that i'll have to learn that cleavage f-ing thing.)
Master led me to the bathroom mirror so that W/we could look at the new big tits together. He bent me over the bathroom sink and told me that He needs to use my a-hole. (That is not a word that i ever use (a-hole) -- Master said it and for some reason, i LOVE that He said it THAT way THIS time.)
He did that thing that is and will always make me CRAZY WILD MANIACAL and that is, He inserted fingers, one at a time and opened up my 2nd-cunt. i know it fully -- i am an anal whore and i can't help it. i LOVE the methodical preparation! It is the most beautiful thing in the world when Master uses me anally because part of me wants to reject it. Its that odd segue back and forth between debauchery and love-making. The severity makes me affectionate, the sodomy makes me fall deeper in love with Him, the person, the Master.
Meanwhile, i had pretty much relegated my condition after surgery to temporary non-use but i was wrong. Master wanted to use a hole and i would naturally, oblige. i love that i have that privilege! i'm a chosen one! To be the one to take care of His cock -- my Lord, it is the best position a woman could ever hope for. Take care of a Man's cock and you are close.
Master brought me to the bed and He was gentle but matter-of-fact and that, of course, gets me everytime. He knew my arms were regaining strength so He did not hammer into me as per the usual -- instead, He entered and there is only one word to describe it:
Penetration.
Not all capital letters, not even a single exclamation point.
Sheer, PURE, unadulterated penetration.
Penetration.
P e n e t r a t i o n .
Say it with as little drama as possible and then you will know the ethereal quality of penetration to which i'm referring.
God, i could say that word over and over again and i'm still repeatedly transported to the Heavens as if its my first trip.
He leaned over and His mouth was right at my ear. He told me all sorts of things and He humped me. He was a dog. i was a dog. The humping was canine! CARNAL biology! What animals are supposed to do -- the Male is supposed to take down the female in order to plant sperm. Its supposed to hurt. she's supposed to let out moans when He bites her neck to hold her steady. And meanwhile, THAT means it never hurts! It only feels like something i was born to feel and something i looked for for an entire life-time to find.
i begged Master to not let me come! i cannot yet bear the tensing of my body that way -- i'm a lunatic, remember? When i come, i break chains! i have! i really have! i could not bear any convulsions and so, i pleaded ... and Master went easy on me. i am His slave but i am also His little baby girl.
Master always uses me when He comes to bed at night. i am always in bed before Him -- He tucks me in and kisses me goodnight. i know that my Prince will come! And oh does He! Oh how i love that Master has His time with me for purely His own pleasure ................ i love how He will move me into position and use my holes no matter if i'm asleep or not -- it is beyond romantic to be used as just a masturbation device.
Currently, i'm still sleeping on my back. i can't sleep on my side at all yet. Master commented as if commenting just to Himself but aloud, "how am I going to use your a-hole"? Usually, Master turns me on my side and enters from behind in these after-midnight interludes. GOD i never thought in a million years i would LOVE anything remotely related to the word "routine"! GOD how i LOVE that a particular comfort has been established and cultivated and has become something to expect as if by rote.
Yesterday morning, i awakened next to my Master and that thesis -- the one now erased -- the one with all my understandings as to how i arrived here -- was replaced by elementary wonder. Maybe that happens? Maybe once you've just figured everything out, God comes along to zap it out of you so that you can experience the epiphany all over again? All i know is that i was writhing around JUST from the sound of Master's breath ... just from the feel of His thigh draped over mine ... just from His warm hard cock in the palm of my hand ....................... i had only that one thing on my mind. The magic -- the amazement at how nothing really matters when you are caught up in something intensely moving. Waking up to Master is intensely moving! Being f-ed by Master is intensely moving! Being near Master is intensely moving!
How is it so? i asked myself to concentrate on the ONE single thought ............. that one single component that symbolizes EVERYTHING i love, whether i am Master's little girl, His pet, His service-only-slave, His whore ... i love it ALL and it all comes down to that ONE single thought ...............
ALL i know is that when Master uses my 2nd cunt JUST because His penis needs to f. a hole, i am the slave i love to be. When i am with this privilege of JUST being His property, i feel more special than i have ever felt before in my life!
~~~ + ~~~
Master put me to bed last night and He pumped my 2nd cunt for awhile before kissing me on the forehead, before allowing me to kiss Him, and before tucking me in for the night. He used it in the missionary position. Later at 2am, i awakened the moment He opened the door to come to bed. There was no discussion and only His instruction to go back to sleep. He was going to masturbate. He screwed my rectum for a very long time and ALL i felt was that sensation -- that ONE SINGULAR sensation. Use integrated with being in love and being in love partly BECAUSE He uses me in JUST the way i love being used! ~wink~
Master raised my thigh up high enough so that He could enter the back hole sideways while i remained on my back. W/we were detached while connected -- this emphasizes the delirium for me! He's using me! He's using me! i'm not here! i'm not even a part of this! He is JUST using my 2nd cunt and that is my purpose. i am MAD OUT OF mY MIND for having that purpose!
i am Master's very own personal receptacle. It is everything i love to be! It is to rise in status as a slave -- i have the position with a very important function. i am Master's regular cum-dump. His repository whether He is cumming, spitting or pissing and i love every subtle nuance of being with such prominence. If you can manage to BE in that position of tending to a Man's cock on a regular basis -- of being your Master's dick-servant -- a sort of slave to His cock, you actually are more fortunate than anyone else. Its exactly the reason Men keep sluts around even if they're not girl-friend material. i am so lucky! i am Master's TRAVELING COMPANION cum-dump and not just a service-station! i get to tend to Him ALL the time! i get to be everything all rolled into one and i contemplated my joy in this ...
... could i ever be as happy with just one identity as Master's slave? Could i, for instance, just be an anal whore? Just be a caged piece of f.meat? A masochist only, a servant only, a little girl only? No. i am whatever Master wants me to be whenever He wants me to be it and that's the beauty of being a receptacle -- my luxury is that of being open and accommodating.
Once again, ALL i know is that i fall deeper and deeper in love -- Master's use of my 2nd-cunt not being impeded due to surgery 8 days ago means i have remained being a masturbation object for Him in the middle of the night. ALL i know is that for whatever reason, THAT makes me more in love, more connected, and more secure in the world all around me.
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Something for your Pumpkin Pie ...
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Nov 23, 2006 5:52 am
1270 Views
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"The horrible truth behind WHIPPED CREAM".
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
(PS: If alt deletes this picture AGAIN, this post will have no meaning. Sorry on their behalf! )
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Day 6 with my NEW BIG BOOBS !!
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Nov 22, 2006 7:36 am
1225 Views
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i don't know how women can go back to work after only 5 days! Its beyond me. i may as well be shuffling along in a full body cast. my ribs and shoulder blades are even killing me now. i can't drive and i'm light headed after a little exertion. Yesterday i had a driver! It reminded me of The Driver and Miss Daisy (or whatever its called) although i'm not Daisy, i don't feel bright and springy like a Daisy, i'm not rich and i'm not old and my driver was not a chauffeur but instead the same cab driver who brought me medicine and soup the day before. He brought me my favorite butternut squash soup from my favorite soup shop in town, twenty dollars later. i drank the entire quart through a straw! Some things are worth their price.
Like these boobs! Wow, i'm still in a stupor.
Maybe its that i went big and i'm so little. The doctor did say that although i'm not technically petite, i am little. i know what he means. i'm not tiny-tiny, but i am tiny. my long limbs mean i'm not consistently petite.
Okay -- that was yesterday -- Day 5. Once the doctor told me that i should stop worrying about ripping apart stitches and that i should move around, i stopped fretting about every aching move. Afterall, my muscles have been THROBBING and DYING for release! You could say i've had blue balls! Now that i am stretching my muscles, it is helping. Gosh, even my shoulders feel more weight than they used to -- before it was metaphorical, now its LITERAL! God i need RELEASE from the pain!
~~~ + ~~~
Okay, so i moved around more. Last night was the first night without painkillers. i'm in PAIN! i probably did too much after the doctor told me i should start moving around. i took this to mean i could clean my house. i'm nauseous! i've got a splitting headache! my shoulders, my back, my ribs!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sleeping on my side is impossible. The weight of these tits is MASSIVE! It reminds me of nursing -- its like these things are filling up with milk to the point that they might burst! i don't know whether to wear a bra or not! i want the freedom but the freedom is HEAVY!
Master gave me the privilege of unlimited orgasms through Wednesday (today). Since the doctor said i could now move around more and stretch the pained muscles, i decided that upon going to bed last night, i'd try out an orgasm.
i reached my fingers to my twat -- twitching arm muscles and all. i came in less than three minutes. Thank God (or rather, Master) for all that orgasm control over the past two years! It used to be that it would take me 30 minutes minimum to orgasm and that's because i was masturbating every 30 minutes!
The three minute orgasm was GRAND but now i know for sure that my clit is attached to my nipples. Right upon climax, a piercing pain shot through my nipples and it remained as a repeated stabbing needle like that of a sewing machine! i saw in my mind, one of those delicate little chains with clamps -- it formed a triangle -- one nipple to the other nipple to the clit and back to the nipple again. So much for privileges -- i'm not going to have any more orgasms until i am fully recuperated!
~~~ + ~~~
They gave me some panties on the day of the operation. The nurse said they were for privacy. (Who cares about privacy under the circumstances?!) Master and i both agreed that for surgical issue panties, they weren't bad. W/we expected granny briefs but instead, they were silky pale blue bikinis.
i guess they were okay enough because i wore them for 5 days straight! i couldn't help it. Sometimes being a slob has its merit. my hair was unkempt, my pussy was wafting a sweet pungency. Master said it would be wise to take a washcloth to my twat before going to the doctor's office yesterday which i did end up doing. Had i not, i'm certain the dogs would have broken out of the pound to find me through scent alone.
i myself am a dog! i can't help it -- the scent is intoxicating. i could sniff my way through anything. i can find my way all around Master's body by scent. i'd be perfectly content to nuzzle up under His armpit or at His groin right between the ball sack and His muscular thighs. i often wedge my nose up there just to take a nap. i love His scent, my scent, scented candles, the smell of rain and chimney smoke hitting cool air. A delicate fragrance, a heavy odor -- i'm your olfactory girl!
i took off the panties and rather than throwing them in the wash, i folded them up into a neat little square and placed them at my vanity. i want to show Master! i may even save them this way for posterity! The scent is strong but it is delicious as in a toxic sweet! i could put this to my nose just as i might put a blindfold to my eyes and i'd sleep a sound slumber from the sensory caresses.
i'm completely off track here! Point is, i did finally take off the panties.
As to more of the slob thing -- well, i had saltine cracker crumbs littering my bed and the floor. i didn't care! i had either been nibbling at them and dropping crumbs like a squirrel with a nut or i had been crushing them against my lips like a hungry drunkard. In each case, i appeared to have cracker crumb dandruff on the large zip up top of 5 days. i didn't much care! i still felt pretty.
What does get me though, EVERY SINGLE TIME, is aesthetics. At least if the crumbs are consistent -- at least if they are the only thing scattered, i can accept them. For instance, i had my two favorite little people scurrying around to align piles of paper and mail and magazines. At least if the piles of stuff everywhere LOOKED perpendicular or parallel and tidy, i wouldn't feel so off-kilter or out of control. At least if disarray looks deliberate and arranged in a pleasing composition (like the dirty dishes contained to ONE sink rather than two or the conglomeration of pillows in one lofty still-life per room), i'll sink into it all rather than cringe.
So i let go ......................... and i drifted through Days 1, 2, 3, and 4. The painkillers helped.
~~~ + ~~~
Funny things feel soothing. Having people wait on me is welcome. The sound of motorcycles and skateboards tearing up my property sounds like a lullaby. i'm relaxed. i'm at home. All i kept thinking was ... i'm at home, i'm at home, i'm with the people who mean THE MOST to me ... i'm in love, i'm at home, i NOW HAVE BIG TITS AND i CAN'T WAIT TO HIT THE BEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my cat was CONSTANTLY at my feet keeping me warm. i think this must be how Master relates to me! my cat is a good cuddly affectionate KNOWING slave. Last night when i was so out of sorts and unable to sleep, my cat moved from my ankles to my knees. He came closer but at a respectful distance -- he didn't want to be presumptuous, i suppose, but he wanted me to know he was there and that he would stay there. i LOVE this cat's mentality! We're kin!
~~~ + ~~~
i can't wait to write about Day 1 ! i told my doctor that not only am i thrilled with everything (but for the feeling ill and immobile and fat due to eating and not working out), but that i am equally happy with the experience itself. i'd like to write personal thank you notes to the staff! i told him that the experience itself will be a memory to add to my collection box. It is another keepsake. i almost cried when relating this to him!
i can't wait to write about Day 1 because it is romantic. i can't wait to articulate all the idiosyncrasy that finally now is an accepted trait, a welcome and most perfect flaw. i can't believe that i'm loving myself even without wearing make-up! i think its because i feel Master's pride in me and that makes a complexion glow ... even more than my Chanel Double Perfection matte reflecting foundation. ~wink~
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There's a reason ...
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Nov 21, 2006 5:32 am
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HOLY COW!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's how i'll start my blog about the breast implants. Apropos, right? Let's all moo for big udders! ~wink~ i can't wait to write one of my usual sap-fests but for now, i'm a little limited. i'd also like to address each of Y/you who expressed support but for now, i'm a little limited. SEE?? LIMITS inhibit a person! (Take note slaves. ~wink~)
Just a few little anecdotes for now ...
There's a reason that they don't tell you about the pain.
Its like childbirth. They don't go into too much detail about the think-yer-gonna-die excruciations of labor and birth because they're too busy honoring the outcome. Kids! Look at all the little rewards running rampant all over the planet -- you don't hear a single mother cooing over her newborn, not even berating her teenager, while tagging on some memory of the pain in delivering the blessing. The pain is forgotten. We're all proclaiming the fruit (whether it be delectable, ripe or rotten).
Its just like these big boobs! They're flip-floppin' all over the planet, bouncing around in everyone's face -- they're dancing while everyone sings their praises and we're all too preoccupied with the big-fun results to take note of the pain in obtaining them.
All i kept thinking during the first two days of agony is, "if i'm going through all this, they just better be big enough!". Think of the disappointment if submitting to all this only to find out i'll be modest? i'm happy to report, from what i can see so far, i did push the envelope! i wanted big so that it meant correct proportion but then PUSHING it a bit over the edge -- i really like the idea of leaving an impression that says,, "oh, nice, but she's actually a bit top heavy". i was after a ROBUST plumage, not just pretty colours. Think: PRONOUNCED hourglass! An abstract, or SURREAL cello! Dali's extreme melting whereby curves are dripping rather than just moving. Like everything else, if i'm going to do something in life, i'm going to attempt to do it MORE than 100%.
Okay, well, today is the unveiling! my bandages and the tape will be removed. Thank goodness -- this semi-rig is constriction on par with a Boa and i can hardly breathe. (Details in another blog in the coming days.)
There's a reason i don't watch television.
i've been in bed most of the time. i've been given the clicker. i've landed on Food Network's Top Chef and i've now seen about 28 episodes. That's okay but then i was reminded WHY i don't watch t.v.
i tried the news. Fox, CNN, and the local news. God, how can ANYONE stand watching the news? There isn't one bit of good news anywhere! Dead babies, and beaten children, dead wives and girlfriends, sexual molestation of an 80 year old woman, drive-by shootings, drunk driving murders, the vile representative of scum, OJ Simpson getting ANY air time at all !!, plummeting schoolbuses, plummeting stocks, Iraq/Iraq, Iraq/Iraq (didn't Stevie Wonder make mention of this 33 years ago in the prelude of "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" ? Oh -- that was "Iraq/IRAN, ... Paris, Peru, ..." ), tragedy, despair, ... its one reminder after another of WHY watching the news too often can give you the wrong idea about life.
i tried some lighter fare.
Tyra Banks (really unattractive but for her body) had Janet Jackson on her show as a guest. She told the audience to stay tuned because after the commercial break, she was going to ask Janet a question that no one else has EVER asked her before! The question? Get ready -- its pretty provocative. A first! She wanted to know what Janet would do if she were to "fart" in a room (and she proceeded to describe the event -- she didn't even say "passing gas" -- she actually said "fart" and elaborated with adjectives) and would she confess to having done it or would she deny it. Wow, Tyra -- you are too profound for us, girlfriend! -- you and your jive self!
i went back to the Food Network for Top Chef, episode 29.
There's a reason ...
There's a reason i'm writing this blog while standing rather than sitting. (Arm movement is limited right now -- darn those limits again! See how they IMPEDE?!! ) There's a reason i love writing blogs. There's a reason i'm in love with my Master. There's a reason i'm happy despite the current SERIOUS pain! There's a reason i'm in love with life. There's a reason i'm smiling. i think it has to do with Master making me two lobster dinners in a row even though i wasn't wearing make-up. Well, either that or being grateful that i am nothing like Tyra Banks ... aside from having big boobs. ~big smile verging on impish grin~
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A few words from Master
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Nov 20, 2006 7:21 am
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I own a world-class slave. Truly. she revels in her submission. she responds to My touch, My desires, My commands and suffers terribly if she can't satiate My every need. But she always does, even when she thinks she hasn't.
Now I have pushed her further than ever before. she has completed another step in her transformation. And she has accomplished her task in her usual regal style.
My baby underwent surgery last Friday. And let Me just say the results are stunning. she was always a beautiful little girl, but now she has a figure that would make a Playboy bunny melt with jealousy.
she has been in bed the last couple of days recouperating, so she has not been able to get to her blogs. I know how much she treasures many of the relationships she has formed here on Alt.
I just want all of you to know that My beautiful slave is doing well and that you will hear from her soon.
I would like to extend My gratitude to all of you who are her friends and support her through your correspondences.
Master Knite
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To link to this blog (slave2bholed) use [blog slave2bholed] in your messages.
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