Jul 24, 2013

Tattoos and trouble

I have my first ever tattoo now, finally. Or well, not as finally as I would have liked, since it isn't finished yet. It took to long, and about 1,5 hour after the time I had told Mistress I would be home, I said enough, and decided that the rest would have to be done another day.

In a way, it sucks. It sucks that the design got much more complicated than I had anticipated, that the appointment was made in a hurry and at an odd time, and that before I called it a day I got a terse text message from Mistress that even though she would try to be supportive and loving when I got back, she was furious and disappointed and worried that it would cost a lot more than agreed on, and that she would have a hard time being supportive.

And I totally got that.

Fortunately, the cost didn't sky rocket, we had agreed on a price before hand (thank god!) and it's now paid (almost) in full by the money I got as a graduation gift from my dad and his side of the family. I got home 1,5 hour late and didn't get to say good night to little S, which sucked, but we hugged this morning and she forgave me. Mistress did too, of course, once I was home again and eaten dinner and we had cuddled for awhile.

But it feels a bit typical for us. I suck at making plans and keeping track of time, she sucks at having plans change or things not going as she has expected. So the simplest things can turn in to huge drama, and this wasn't really a simple thing.

I wanted the tattoo to be a beautiful reminder of who we are for each other. I guess it is, now. For good and  bad.

It is beautiful, by the way. And just before we fell asleep, when I was lying chained to the bed on her arm, and she had said good night so that I wasn't allowed to speak any more, she whispered in my ear that I was her slut, her good little girl, that she was proud of me, and as the last thing, that I was her marked little slut.

And I love that I am.

Jul 10, 2013

Brazilian, beer and ponies - or something like that.

Yesterday I had a busy day in a couple of different ways, and voila! today I woke up with despair and a slight fever. Yeah. That's the brain I know and love.

I haven't been resting as much as maybe I should have today though, it's a bit of a bind this being restless and hyper and at the same time getting exhausted really quickly. At times Mistress has physically bound me just to allow me some rest from the constant effort of reining myself in. Today she was away all morning and working all afternoon, so I had to do the reining myself, and I have to admit it went so-so.

In the afternoon Mistress unusually went to pick up little S from pre-school and then grocery-shopping (she's a superhero - the idea of doing weekly shopping at the supermarket with a three year old makes my head hurt just thinking about it, but she does that regularly). I did rest, in a way - but I had to mind the laundry and prep some things for dinner, and though the tasks themselves were small and simple they prevented me from relaxing properly. Another fun brain-thingy - if there's a to-do-list around, it revolves constantly around in my head and keeps me on my toes in an active, hyper state. Since I only have like two gears, top one and neutral, having something to do every thirty minutes effectively makes me go all hyper.

Anyway, I spent the time waxing. Like, the Brazilian kind. I've never done that to this extent before, and I did it purely because it was fun and I liked the result. Mistress has approved of my hair-removing activities before, it's been a gradual thing the last couple of years, but her main concern has been me removing to much. She doesn't mind hair, but she really doesn't like the hairless, childlike look, and that has held me back a little.

I'm still not hairless, since Mistress doesn't like that. But I'm more or less hairless on all the places where I don't want to have hair, and it feels great. I think it's pretty.

Mistress said she had to work tonight, and asked me what I wanted to do. "Well", I said, "I want to show you my well-coiffed crotch and then get a sound thrashing." Alas, that's not what's going on. She doesn't much care whether or not there's hairs on my inner thighs, and there's no whips in sight. She's at her computer, and I'm in the bed beside her, drinking non-alcoholic beer and goofing around. I think my evening will be spent watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic on youtube.

Oh the joys of being a kinky O/p-couple. My inner twenty-year old are glaring at me and pointing fingers. The worst part of it is that I'm quite happy and content right now. Where will it end?


Uhm... Might have to revise the above. When she'd finish working, she did want to see the result. In fact, she wanted to inspect all of me. And whip me for the hairs that were left. And whip me a lot more. And fuck me. And yeah... I have to quit with the whining now. I'm all good. All whipped and fucked and taken care of. This, I must say, is even better.

Jul 9, 2013

Unfortunate side-effects

We were at my inlaws cabin by the sea again for four days this weekend. "Oh, we thought in advance, we'll finally resurrect our extinct sex-life!" Until I woke up on Thursday morning sniffling like an allergic bloodhound, and sneezing over anyone I came in to contact with.

Mistress claims she doesn't find virus infections sexy. Imagine that.

For once I didn't either, actually. My body seems to be a bit strange that way at other times - whenever I get a cold or a hangover, I get desperately horny. Unfortunately my prospective partner in any horny-related activities doesn't share my feelings, and have a more sensible idea that I should drink lots of water and rest. I want her to boink my skull off, she wants me to shut up and rest 'til I'm healtny again. Spoil sport.

Any way, we had a good long week end but without much excitement. Except for Sunday night when I finally managed to convince Mistress that we should sneak away in the car to the nearest gas station and get us some chips and beer. After two days at the same place, I was having cabin fever (literary, very funny), and was dying for some diversion (since I wasn't going to get to go to the movies nor get whipped and fucked, I at least wanted a beer to our Harry Potter-movie on the laptop...).

Do you know what happens when someone, say for example me, take anti-depressants, metylphenidate (that's ADHD-medication, like ritalin for example) and combines it with even a very small amount of alcohol? Bad things. Very bad things.

I mean, it does say so on the package. It says "don't combine with alcohol". But... somethings I just have to try by myself. What happened was that I was starting to feel queasy, went to bed and woke up a couple of hours later and had to run outside to... yeah. Hurl. Gross gross gross.

Also, no running water at our small (tiny, really, just a cupboard) cabin down by the pier, and no water closet or shower at the whole place.

And the whole of next day I had a hangover, with head ache and nausea, without even getting the benefit of a) having been drunk or b) drunk anything good or noteworthy. So, yeah. I guess I'm going to be a rather involuntary teetotaler in the future. And I don't want to!

The anti-depressants are a temporary thing, I hope, though my mother eats something similar permanently and has done that for the last ten years or so, so I might be in for the same fate (rather medication than recurring depressions, any day). The metylphenidate however helps with my ADHD-symptoms, and I have no reason to believe they will ever lessen or that I at some point wont benefit from the medication.

The next experiment will be to see what happens with me if I skip the ADHD-meds for two days, and drink on the night in between. I like the meds, they make me get through my days much easier and with much less effort, but it would be nice to know that I have a choice, that I could have alcohol at special occasions. Both me and Mistress are a bit of whisky-aficionados, and I would grieve if our beautiful bottles of Caol Ila and Laphroaig and Glenfiddich would be out of my reach for the rest of my life. And I got a bottle of real champagne at my graduation party, and I would like to be able to drink it one day, perhaps at our six-year anniversary in August. It's not about the amount in any way, but to not be able to have even one glass without puking feels a little sad.

Ah well. If my problems aren't bigger than this, I guess life is pretty okay right now.