WFH

I'm prioritising at present and putting my energies where I need them to be, in response to all kinds of stuff - the above thus reflects my current charming approach to Life. I have nasty infections and I'm on antibiotics, I'm at the hospital again soon, and the Doctor tomorrow. I am tired. Medical doom-mongering may however go and fuck itself sideways, and I'm back to dealing with things my way for a bit. The options are for interested parties to assist or get out out of my way. Life is so much easier that way.

Anyway, I may not around much but I'm doing ok - because I say so :)  

Teapot porn

The teaset I have been raving about. Badly photographed but it gives you the gist.

I find imagining frisky men looking for Femdom or chastity stuff and finding this instead really entertaining.

The last 48 hours.

• N had a motorbike accident involving a large male deer running fast into the bike. It’s a miracle he’s alive really, there are loads of fatalities here for people in cars let alone being hit on a bike. He is basically ok, a few small injuries only. Astonishingly he managed to avoid actually coming off the bike, thank God. If he had come off I wouldn't fancy his chances.
• We had a small but distressingly fast-growing fire, which I was putting out at exactly the same time that N staggered home announcing his crash, so I was trying to deal with both these things at once with a young shrieking child in tow for that added touch of worry.
• The bike is badly smashed up in numerous places, obviously. It won't be covered on the insurance for lengthy reasons.
• N has had his ECG and the results of that thankfully seem fine at least. That is a great relief to me.
• The results of his bloodwork should be in tomorrow.
• He now needs to get his lungs checked.
• If anyone wants me I will be curled up in a ball in the corner hitting my head repeatedly on the wall. N cannot for the life of him understand why I may be stressed to fuck by the way - I'm going to need a fucking ECG at this rate.

Spring is back and so am I (well, nearly).

Spring is springing here, and with it my health appears to be returning. Oh the joy. Oh forest how I’ve missed you! Cities! Coffee shops! Shops! The river! Oh wide world how I’ve missed you! It feels like I am buried under a heap of rocks, and then I get to venture back Out There. Oh the joy, the joy.

Yesterday I got N to drive me over to Bury as I needed sandals. I basically wear boots, sandals and trainers at home and as it is warm enough for the boots to go away new sandals were needed. I got a pretty bronzey pair that are comfy enough to walk around in all day but still easy on the eye so I am pleased. Since my health went downhill the stylishness of my footwear has sadly gone with it much of the time.

The thing is though, when I have been out of action for months on end as soon as I get out properly there are loads of things I want to buy. So after the sandals I bought myself a polka dot dress and some leggings, a beautiful dress from Monsoon for the munchkin to wear to the upcoming wedding of one of my best friends, matching pretty things to go with it, hair colour for me, bake ware, teeny snack tubs because when I am very low carbing it’s easier to just chuck some snacks in a tub than try to find somewhere that sells what I can eat, Easter treats for people and goodness knows what else. We stopped for coffee and spent some time chatting. Then in the evening he drove us down to the river at a beautiful place near us and we strolled around happily. It’s nice having someone to do the gentle transitional things with.

The only O/p blog bringing you Bambi rather than bondage - you love me really.

This morning I went for a lovely walk in the forest where I live. And I’m sitting here now with the windows open with the sun coming in sipping iced cold brew coffee topped up with ginger beer (drink of the Gods).

Anyway, astute readers may have noticed the walking and very low carbing are back. Aside from my yet again squooshed fitness levels which need dragging back up again, I have, as always when I flare and end up not able to do anything, put loads of weight on. So, I’m VLC-ing and for now just trying to build up with walking again. It takes about a month of walking before I am back enough to exercise more properly but if I overpush it it’s counterproductive. This is a bit pesky as the above mentioned wedding is in three weeks and I would have liked to be a bit less fat for that, especially as I am now going to be more ‘visible’ than I had expected having been asked to make a speech and do things (I always seem to get asked to give speeches at weddings, I have no idea why).

What else? Well N has been going for tests. I am worried and going extremely easy on him at present. He doesn’t like the fact I am going easy on him, but that’s tough. There are bigger concerns than whether he’s overjoyed with the current status quo. I want a healthy living slave not a devoted dead one. He is going to have to put up with it.  

So anyway, I have very little that is scintillating to tell you. Enforcing a life that appears vanilla (well relatively) on the surface is probably one the most obscure things I have ever done. N is craving normality back, but for now I am forcing him to enjoy the sunshine and take it as easy as possible. I'm such a bitch. 

Why we *really* need to win the football.

You know I said the slave was not well? Well today began with me ringing for an emergency appointment then frogmarching him to the Doctor. You see left to his own devices, he suffers from 'Suffer And Worry Those Around You Constantly About One’s Health But Avoid Going To The Dr At All Costs Syndrome'. It’s a common English disease, especially amongst the male populous. I blame it on us not winning the World Cup since 1966, and can only conclude it's some subconscious attempt to prove their masculinity to redress the balance.    

Anyway, he staggered into the Dr this morning looking very unwell indeed, grey of pallor, breathless, and with what was obviously rather bad kidney pain. My parting words were that if they didn’t suggest one he was to ask for a diabetes test, and to get a flipping new inhaler.    

He emerged again a few minutes later with referrals for an ECG and a diabetes test (neither of which he had to ask for), and a prescription for a new inhaler (ditto). The Doctor said the region he had said pain in was indeed his kidneys and seemed rather concerned, not giving N the impression that he thought he was wasting his time at all (no shit Sherlock).

Anyway, he is at least now going to prodded and poked to find out what’s going on with him. I’m glad he is getting checked out at least.

Some people need to be flipping well owned. All that hysterical online worry about slaves having limbs amputated by power-mad owners particularly makes me laugh as I am fairly certain that if N were to accidentally sever a limb he would try to look stoic and causally say 'Oh it's nothing to worry about, I'll just take some lemsip then I'm bound to grow a new one' as he looked for a mop to clean up the arterial blood gushing on the oak flooring before it stained.

'Honestly, I'm fine Mistress. No problems here!'

Snuggly Sunday

N is not feeling great at present, he has a lot of pain and is really struggling. So it was especially lovely to find he had helped arrange lots of particularly lovely things for me today. I have had presents, flowers, afternoon tea including a frankly obscene amount of cake, and we snuggled up and watched a movie and then I took a nap. It’s all been very nice and snugglesome and probably the last thing anyone wants to read about. Good slaving N :)

Tra la la.

Imperfection

None of the people I love are objectively ‘perfect’.

A random sample shows one who sometimes has mood swings that could shift continents (his name is N, you may have heard of him). One who is extremely gentle, innocent and has a sometime alarming inability to cope with certain forms of pressure, (which is one of the things he has me for). One has a temper, and an addictive personality. One goes into total denial about things she can’t cope with and then shuts down when they occur anyway. One is too scared to be brave (though I am seeing signs of a change occurring). One is very classbound, and something of a snob. One suffers from depression. One is the most wonderful loving, giving, regal, accomplished and glorious woman you could wish to meet, but has the most astonishing ability to select the most maladjusted men you could ever wish to meet. Blah blah. In short my loved ones are people.

I happily love them regardless of these imperfections. I accept them as human which is after all a chronic condition of inherent imperfection.

And they too love me, despite the fact I am messy as sin, and more imperfect than many of them. For me, being seen and loved as I am at that time; not through the filter of some imaginary future point where I will have accomplished whatever I am working on, am better, more serene, more whole, less fractured, braver, more settled, slimmer or with shinier hair; is an important part of being recognised, of being seen, of being loved.  I don’t feel I have to pretend to be ‘perfect’ or any better than I am to my loved ones. They know I am fragile as fine crystal in some ways, and as resilient as diamond in others (in a Vickers hardness test way rather than a fifties film star way though, sadly - see above re shinier hair. A diamond after all is essentially just charcoal that's handled stress exceptionally well). They know my weaknesses as they do my strengths, and when I throw myself into a mission that is important to me they scoop me up when I stagger bloody out the other side even if they think I should have quit it ages back, because they know me.



Diamond, sparkly, fractured, and no shiny hair.

So, for me, my lack of perfection is something that I don’t want to have to hide in a close relationship. I am confident enough to know my ‘good’ bits are easily admirable to some, so it’s having someone love the complete package that is ‘me’, or at least the bits I elect to reveal (or reveal unintentionally) at that time, that means ‘love’ to me. I’m talking love in all it’s forms here by the way.

I’d go as far as to say that when people start declaring they consider me a great wonder it means very little when I know they just know the shiny parts of me. See me under a heap of books on the bed, surrounded by coffee mugs, mess, screwed up balls of paper and tissues, and cereal bar wrappers then we'll talk.

So, while I would never pretend I am in fond of transparency for myself, I do think that love, whatever form it may be, needs to be based on much more than just shiny stuff.

It's liberating being a whole, messy person. When I look at people who try to show their best selves all the time I just find myself thinking they must be exhausted.

Manners Maketh the Mistress.

Did someone sneakily put crazy powder on the keyboards of select FL users? Come on, fess up if it was you and we can all just get busy with the disinfectant wipes then get back to shagging and arguing about how true we are.

My inbox is frequently colourful over there to say the least, and we all know that some groups are Trainwreck Central, and that even the most calm group can brew the odd clusterfuck. But seriously, things are bonkers like conkers over there at present.

My inbox is so full of madness that I am missing people I want to talk to. What is it full with? People who are outraged that I use a few naughty words. People who are thoroughly excited that I use a few naughty words. People that are upset that someone disagreed with them about something someone said about what someone else said about naughty words three pages back.

So let us clear a few things up;

1.   I swear! Isn’t is shocking? Or thrilling, depending on your perspective it seems. I live in the year 2012. Despite being English I do not live at Downton Abbey, though I’m pretty sure that when Lord Grantham is giving Lady Grantham one he utters a few choice words (he looks the type, don't you think)? And don’t even get me started on what I bet that Mr Carson says when someone spills the afternoon Earl Grey and the pretty lace doilies need re-laundering. Anyway, I say naughty, bad, dirty words sometimes, and yet somehow I live to tell the tale. I assure you my relayed utterance barely makes it on the radar of some of my most choice phrases. Tra la la.

2.   I am not even remotely interested in hearing that this makes your cock stiff. (I'm so sorry, I mean 'Pray tell, the fact my utterances engorge your member is not of interest to this Lady, good fellow').

3.   My slave has many flaws alongside his many wonderful traits. He is very human and at the age of fifty six, having lived a colourful life (such coy phraseology! oh the irony!) it’s fair to say a bit of swearing doesn’t even beep on his radar. While I fail Mistress 101 by not calling him a worm or similar, I do say things like ’Sweetums,  fucking do as you are fucking told you fucking cunt or I will nail your fucking hands to my bloody desk to keep you sodding well still, while I set about kicking the living shit out of you before pissing down your fucking throat, you twat. Is that clear enough my most  beloved darling?’ if he pisses me off.  Sometimes this happens before breakfast (life before coffee is brutal I tell you). As I am not actually breaking into old ladies houses to shout stuff like this at them for my jollies I don’t feel especially bad about this. He’s a big boy, he’ll live. He even loves me, despite my shamelessly obscene mouth. Affection comes in many forms dear reader.

4.   Amazingly, I do not speak like this to children, old ladies or random members of society going peaceably about their daily lives. In fact I'm generally considered polite, and even sometimes charming.

5.   We are all snowflakes. That is the beauty of snowflakes. You’re a snowflake, I’m a snowflake, the man over the road is a snowflake, people I love are snowflakes, and people I don’t care for are snowflakes. We don’t all need to tell everyone we are snowflakes or tell other people they are snowflakes, it is pretty much a given. Now, shimmering fluttering snowflake that I am, I am just as subject to difficulties as the next person. Lord knows I am fucked up enough. Amazingly though, despite my apparent undiagnosed (horny-to-some) Tourette’s Syndrome, and litany of other things that are not perfect about me, I somehow have the amazing good fortune to have some of the finest people I have ever met love me. Hurrah! Seriously, HURRAH! Their approval matters to me. The approval of complete strangers online simply doesn't. So please desist from memoing me to tell me how I am a disgrace to the noble name of O/p because I say 'fuck' every now and then. It is boring and it means I am missing fabulous chatter from cool people. And I am exceptionally fond of fabulous chatter you see.

6.   The Vatican have probably already excommunicated me by now, and who can blame them? So feel free to tell anyone afraid that I will infect them with Unladylike Profanity Syndrome that they are free to avoid me, and no one will judge, least of all me. You should assure them I will not even call them bad names, because secretly I'm actually quite nice. Just don't tell anyone, or you'll simply ruin my rep.

Love and kisses, MT xxx

Open wide.

I’m just in from the dentist. My face is all swollen and it was very painful as they were working close to the nerve. However this post is not about pain, but rather about blowjobs. Didn’t see that coming now did you?

First I need to explain that my mouth physically cannot open very far. I had surgery on it about three years ago and since then it has been much, much better - I can bite into apples now and everything. Check me out. Before the surgery I could open my mouth a tiny bit, and even now my mouth span is still really small compared to normal. Nowhere near as bad as before, so hurrah.

Anyway, this can cause difficulty at the dentist as they often can’t get stuff they need to in my mouth through the normal method as the kit is deeper than the opening.

Today for example they needed to put a piece of kit in there but it was simply too deep to go through the gap, however much pushing and wrangling we tried. In the end the only answer was to get it in sideways then adjust the head, as there is more width than depth, and though it was a squeeze in it went.  Not perfect but it just about worked so I'm counting it as a result.

The shape of the piece was not conducive to going in that way and so it had nothing to hold onto. It’s hard to explain accurately but hopefully I’m giving you the gist. I ended up having to try to hold it for them for lengthy reasons (I also ended up having to cuddle and comfort a crying dental nurse at one point, but that’s another story).

Anyway, there I am lying back in a dental chair while the dentist is trying her damnedest to sort things out. She was really great and working under very difficult circumstances (see above re crying dental nurse for one example of many) even without my tricky mouth making things more difficult.

Because the bit in question was totally the wrong shape to be in my mouth that way round though, it kept hitting the back of my throat at really inconvenient moments.

Now, as some of you know I’m not a chick prone to shoving cock in my mouth. It’s just not my thing, and I can’t imagine I’m likely to become overcome with the urge any time soon. So it’s fair to say I’m not an expert at dealing with things going down my throat, and I have a fuck-off gag reflex. But I wanted my dental work and I wasn’t giving up.

So what did I do dear reader? Why, turn mentally to the good ladies of FL of course! All the times I have read a witty journal of kaya’s about blowjobs or whatever, the information has obviously gone in, because I found myself using my ‘talking someone through something voice’ to myself in my head and thinking of all the handy hints and tips I’ve read from you all over the years, along with what I’ve picked up on my own adventures with hot men etc.

So basically I tried to think about the methods for handling this bloody big bit of dental kit trying to skewer my throat as I know some of you do a cock. I thought about all your handy hints and tips (and despite the pain of her digging away right on a nerve and my jaw feeling like it was going to go all skewy again, I found myself nearly sniggering more than once). Don’t bother telling me that if it doesn’t go down all the way it’s not the same, I am perfectly aware of that, but this is basically new territory to me. I’m giving myself 10/10 for effort if nothing else.

So thankyou dearest cocksuckers of the net . I’ve rammed cocks, both flesh and strap ons down the throats of various men and women many times, but I’ve never actually fellated a bit of dental kit before.

Idiocy, Projection, and Godwin's Law - or Why The Internet Is A Crazy Place.

I started a thread on FL a few days ago. The reason I started this thread went something like this;

“Poor Piece has started the last few threads while I’ve been battling all this Life shit, I should pull my weight and start a thread to help out.

Hmmm, what to write about though? I’m really tired and don’t have a lot of energy to dedicate to FL at present. Oh, I was pondering how radically differently the best way to address different people is the other day, that might work! How to word that though? If I just write “What is the communication style in your relationship when it’s an urgent matter?” then the vast majority of people will write fairly meaningless things like ‘We always communicate with honour, integrity and love at all times as they are the cornerstones of our relationship”. Ok, so what I want to look at is how different approaches are best for different people in different situations. I know, I’ll try to remember the gist of when I had to direct N in that very firm way the other day and type something akin to that. That will give them something tangible to work with. Now, should I type a contrasting equivalent for how I’d direct S (a more sensitive person) in a similar moment of crisis? Nah, they’re smart, they'll work it out….”

I start a vast number of threads there, and most of them I do for the benefit of the group, not my own. Sometimes it’s a bit of a drag to be honest – we don’t want the group to become the sort of clichéd inane group overrun wit threads like ‘Where do you sleep?/  Do slaves have birthdays/ How often do you wear your collar?’ and that requires people to extend themselves to make an effort to write about more diverse and personal things.

So, I started a thread. 'Ho hum, business as usual' I thought. The judgmental projection and outright fantasy that’s taken place regarding the thread in question in other groups, in my inbox, and to a lesser degree in the group itself is therefore really pretty bizarre in my opinion. I'd go as far as crazed actually.

I mean, surely, anyone who looks should be able to see I intentionally elected a strongly worded example, and would deduce that there would be a reason for this?

The thread also asked how respondents would feel, not for commentary on my relationship - a fact some people missed entirely though I suspect in some cases I suspect that was to get their swagger on.

You see, I stated repeatedly that the recipient of the paraphrased dialogue above found it to be pitched pretty well for him in that situation.  And therein lies my key point. I’d have thought it may be reasonably assumed that as we have a successful O/p relationship that is far from new, that perhaps I know how to best address specific issues to my specific slave in highly specific circumstances. But apparently not.

Now the irony of this kind of overreaction occurring on a board like FL is pretty strong. Remember this is a place where people often relay relationships where they are called things like ‘a worthless fucking cunt’ or ‘a stupid whore’, where members have usernames like ‘dumbcunt’ or whatever and no one bats an eyelid. Why? Well, I have always presumed because they understand that we all relate in different ways, tailored to suit our relationships.

People saying they would be upset is fine, good even. That’s what the thread asked after all. People making up imaginary backstories and accusing me of all kinds of stuff that simply is not there is obnoxious (as well as suggesting extremely lacklustre comprehension skills). Think I’m exaggerating? Here are a few on board highlights from a few hours from just one poster. Please note the wealth of imaginary details added to the situation:

That I ‘backhanded’ N and references to ‘slapping’
My actions show I ‘have no reasoning or social skills’
That it was ‘delivered in an angry and threatening tone’
That I ‘threw a tantrum and blamed N for my pissy ass mood, when he was not at fault’
I was ‘chest thumping and domineering’
I ‘kicked the shit out of N verbally for something that he didn't do in an intentionally angry and bullying fashion’.
• ‘There was no definitely no fault of N’s at work’ this was repeated so many times I lost count. Where does it say that though please?
• I am a ‘blowhard’, ‘arrogant asshole’ ‘dick’ and ‘childish’
• My favourite though was probably the likening of the incident to stabbing someone in the eye! Seriously: '"I warning you I am going to stab you in the eye if you blink at me", that person blinks and I stab them in the eye'.   (The best I can say is that it at least varies Godwin's Law and give it points for originality).

And remember that is just one single poster, who incidentally didn’t clarify any of his points or at any time even try speak to me directly, instead choosing to spam his fantasy elsewhere, maybe to boost his own ego or something. One poster who knows far better than the recipient or the speaker how to handle a very specific and pressured situation he had no knowledge of. Priceless. (Oh, and of course I am not a true Master. Snort).

FL wearies me.

Notes from the edge

Welcome to Depressive Monthly, your one source stop of whining and woe!

Consider the above a disclaimer and only read on if you are not looking for rainbows.

This is a synopsis of a few key points of the last few weeks;

• I went to the hospital where I discovered that my medication is showing some troublesome indicators in my bloodwork. This is almost definitely caused by the medication that they had to dance around the rules to give me in the first place, and the only thing that has ever made any serious impact on managing my condition. I am therefore obviously reluctant to come off it as they are to take me off it. But the bloodwork is raising questions. I am reduced to basically crossing my fingers.
• They also told me that they have now thrown every single thing they can at matters, and this is as good as it will get. Not what I wanted to hear, obviously.
• They are therefore referring me to another hospital to discuss things such as wheelchairs. I am resistant to say the least but have agreed to go to at least get information.
• I was signed off as unfit for work four weeks ago and have just been signed off for another four weeks. This is worrying me extremely in terms of my future even though it is not necessarily a permanent state of affairs.
• 

• Nigel started some medication a few months ago that he reacted very, very badly to. It seriously fucked him up and it’s not a stretch to say he lost it entirely. We (read I) therefore spent a Hellish few weeks trying to manage some quite horrifying outcomes. The Dr took him off the meds and as they leave his system he is returning day by day. He is very shaken by the whole thing though, as am I.
• As if that wasn’t enough for him poor N was run over while walking on a pavement (no serious injury but an issue none the less) and thus we have police officers in and out of the house.
• It transpires that I have significant bone erosion on my jaw bone. I have two old breaks on my jawbone, and I also had surgery on my jaw about three years ago. From what I can gather, the ‘joint’ at the break point and the normal joint are sort of joining up. This is obviously not desirable. Nigel to his credit has yet to make a blowjob joke but will eventually - it is inevitable.  My favourite jokes so far are"It hasn't eroded. It's simply reshaping itself so that you will one day be able to unhinge your jaw and swallow your prey whole" - "You know, if you want to bawl everyone out more efficiently you could just get a megaphone" - and "Well you don't chew blood babe". 

• There have been some very sad things happening that have nothing to do with N or I directly, but which have really deeply saddened me.
• Inspired by all of the above I have been pretty depressed, but am managing on as best as I can, ably assisted by my crack team of friends without whom I may have lost the plot entirely.

Anyway, that’s why I have not been a ray of sunshine lately and N has disappeared from the internet. We are however intact, together and trying to roll with the punches. 

Oh and somewhere in all this I turned thirty nine.

Today

had genuinely good, happy bits in it - progress.

Dreaming

They say all dreams are wish fulfilment. My dreams have become increasingly focused lately, the same theme again and again.

I am running. Through the forest, around the field I used to run on regularly, through crowded streets where I kick off my shoes and start running barefoot and dodging the broken glass, along beaches, panting up hills then gratefully letting gravity work down the hills, across roads where I try to dodge cars, even through the snow. In the morning when it’s peaceful and imbued with a zen-like sense of stillness, with other people, some who I know some who I don’t, alone, at night, carrying my child, always just running and running and running.

Or I am climbing. I used to work in Wales as a rock climbing instructor and I am there again, or I’m places I don’t recognise. Sometimes I am just climbing up buildings, or over walls.

Or I am jumping off the walls and buildings, I climb up, then I jump back to Earth.

Or I am fighting. Throwing punches and kicks, feeling the air knocked out of my insides, tasting blood, even feeling bones breaking, but still punching, elbowing and kicking back. However hurt I am, I am still punching back.

Sometimes I am dancing. Spinning and jumping around in a state of perfect bliss. Dancing is my happy place. Drunk, sober, with my friends. Dancing has always made me happy.

I’m playing football, muddy but happy. I am playing rounders with my child in the sunshine at Jesus Green. I am playing basketball and laughing. Just throwing myself around and feeling alive.

Or I am swimming - always in the sea though, not the pool which is not my reality. Reality has been the pool, up and down, up and down in the chlorine.

Or I am cycling, hot and happy, riding straight into the wind, or the dry sun, or the rain, fast, tired and content.

But mostly I am running.

This is what I am dreaming of, night in, night out. I am running. Pounding my feet like a heartbeat into the ground and running.

'Tomorrow' / today.

As in the day that yesterday I said would hopefully be better.

It wasn't really.

In some ways it was, my pain levels were much more manageable for example which is not to be sneezed at. But in the middle of all the other significant shit rumbling on and generally making everything problematic, a new variable arrived just to make Life extra trying and heart wrenching.

I don't think N really comprehends this. He did however ask to book us a few days in Brighton for later in the year, which he now has. I'm not sure but this may be his way of trying to cheer me up? Assuming of course he has an idea that I'm not coasting along just fine, which is not to be assumed. But either way, he's booked Brighton which I'd mentioned, so that's nice. And he is more himself again which is one less thing to stress about.

But I'm sad, tired, stressed and I hurt. And now I'm going to bed.

'Miss Sparkles' has left the building - don't read if you're looking for rainbows.

Today has been a fucker of a day. There's been lots of stress, and my pain levels went nuts this afternoon. I took less painkillers as part of everything, and suffice to say this proved to be a big error. I really was just curled up in a heap.

I almost never lose my rag but being dicked around while I was in so much pain was not a good plan. 

At least fire is shiny.

I am now suitably drugged up and sitting at my netbook with earphones in listening to soothing music (I even just had Somewhere Over The Rainbow on, such is my desire to be soothed). More codeine will be downed soon. Then I plan to get under a blanket and watch The West Wing; my new boxset discovery, I’m up to about episode eleven and loving it; and then I plan to go to bed at the earliest viable opportunity.We had really good sex this morning which was definitely the highlight of my day.

Tomorrow will be better.

Hopefully.

Boys will be (with) boys.

Well I’ve felt like complete crap since finishing the steroids, which given my blood test results in not surprising. To be honest I still feel like crap, but there is a hint of improvement at last so let’s all celebrate that shall we? All else apart doing nothing much is profoundly dull.

One of the ways we can tell I am recovering is that a perverted itch that needs scratching has arisen. Namely I am very much in the mood for lounging around watching some men engage in sex and the down and dirty varieties of SM under my direction. Some things just never get tired, you know? I could quite fancy watching some nice muscular subordinate male being fucked senseless slightly against his will with some lovely roughness thrown in, that I wasn’t directing too, which indicates I am tired.

This has been my go-to wank material, and a primary sex thought for the last couple of days. I mentioned it to N today and he is strongly encouraging the latter. He was making helpful suggestions about what men I may like to see getting it on and howling (that aren’t him). He is claiming this is simply good service and trying to see I don’t overdo it while I am recovering.

You know, because saying 'slam his arse harder' and orgasming is so much work. 

Convictions.

Drama is something I avoid like the plague, along with cloak and dagger stuff. I prefer things clean, including confrontation, so (as many of you know) if I have an issue with someone that cannot be resolved with discretion, I generally deal with it in an upfront way. No sneaking around just a straightforward declaration of my stance. They are then free to reply to this in an equally upfront manner. I find this easier in real life than online, but I try to maintain the practise online as well.

If I am involved in is something I consider immoral, corrupt, or generally ‘wrong’ in its nature I will speak up, and probably remove myself from it’s realm. It’s usually pretty easy to spot these things from the outset and stay the Hell away, but if something were to dupe me, or change after I joined I am confident I’d do this - again, as many of you who have known me for a while can attest :D

There are currently a great many people with doubts about a particular little group on FL. Many do not like the way good people are being treated. Many dislike the drama. Many dislike the cloak and dagger nature of it’s proceedings. Many dislike the ever changing landscape. Many dislike the way the rules they signed up for have been altered beyond recognition. Some dislike the fact that plagiarism is encouraged (or at least was under one of the many previous sets of rules, I lost track ages ago). Many dislike much of the ethos…. Plenty of people are expressing discontent and discomfort quietly all over the places, often in some extremely strong terms, that I have frankly been surprised by (because to my mind if you feel that strongly why are you still there)?  But they are doing it quietly, probably because they don’t want to upset the apple cart, don’t want to make themselves a target.

While some are leaving, some others are making a point of ‘disassociating’ themselves from the spiteful goings on, corruption, and drama etc, and they are still there. Perhaps they fear social exclusion if they go, perhaps they don’t want to admit they made a mistake, who knows? I suspect many are putting their fingers in their ears and going ‘lalalalala, none of my business’ (a few people are actually writing statements such as ‘I am neutral! I am Switzerland!’ etc).

Well here’s a heads up. If someone treats people like shit, especially good people, people you care for, it’s a good bet that eventually they will do the same to you. And if not you they will do it to your friend over there, and that quiet person in the corner who makes a good target. And if you ignore other people getting messed with, then when it’s your turn you’ll probably find less sympathy than you’d hope. Isn't that obvious?

I admire very much the people who are questioning and defending people they feel have been treated unjustly, or admitting they made a mistake. I think that’s far better, far braver and far more decent behaviour than people who are just closing their eyes and hoping they are not next, or that whatever the shitstorm of the week is will pass. There will be another shitstorm, then another, then another – however public they are or aren’t, that’s simply the nature of the beast. No one has to treat people like shit, no one has to behave like an inconsistent egomaniac dictator, and no one systematically does these things accidentally.

I’m a predator, I admit that - what’s more I’m bloody good at it. If I wanted to pull people's strings behind the scenes and generally play headfucking mind games to bully and control I could do it with my eyes closed. I admit I have manipulated people in my real life in ways that would probably make many people's heads spin. And as such I can spot a power mad manipulator even through a monitor.  As stated earlier though that’s not my style for communications in general, because I think it's crappy to randomly treat everyone you meet that way. I prefer honest upfront communications.

That's one of the many reasons why I have chosen to not respond to many questions and memos, where people are quietly expressing discomfort. I don’t wish to be caught in such drama and intrigue, or be part of this process. People eventually have to work out their own beliefs and live with the consequences. That's Life.

But I would like to say bravo to those who are showing the courage of their convictions, who are speaking up for those being mistreated, and who are not going ‘Lalalalalala’ with their fingers in their ears. The O/p group remains a refuge for most of you. Sanctioning people being treated like shit, all be in via turning a blind eye, is a crappy thing to do, and most good people know that. I am glad the poorly treated have such people in their corner.

Soldiering on

Yes, I’m still alive.

My RA flared even with the steroids, though the steroids do seem to have made the effects of the flare more limited; especially for this time of year which is when I usually have my most debilitating episode; which is not to be sniffed at. But either way I am out of action at present. Ce la vie.

N is not well either. Us both being significantly unwell simultaneously is a new low for us. So far we are both just about hanging in there, and thankfully so far our very bad days are not coinciding. His medication has wrecked his stomach, and is having side effects which are frequently worse that the original problem.  I’m planning on kicking up a fuss if there is no resolution soon. I want my boy back damn it.

We are ok. No major crisis, but things are off simply because we are both so wrecked. The cause is self-evident but none the less neither of us care for it. N is craving my normal dominance, but frankly he’s not well enough for anything other than the fundamentals whatever he thinks. I am missing the service I usually receive but again, needs must. Still, I’m feeling tetchy, this isn’t how I like things.

I put a plan for when this sort of thing happened on FL a while ago, and I’m going to action some of the strategies written there. I’ve already done some. N being unwell has complicated things though, as naturally I hadn’t planned for that. Thankfully I have some additional assistance at present. I may also get S down to generally entertain me and lend a hand.

N’s birthday is coming up and I want to be ok for that if I can. I booked us a cheap trashy motel room afterwards, in the best traditions of sleaze. I often take him to a nice hotel for his birthday, but money is still tight, and to be honest we use nice hotel rooms much as we use sleazy trashy places. We fuck a lot, I hurt him a lot, we sit in bed eating lovely and improbable ‘away from home’ things, and we go out and run around. We do sleazy places moderately frequently (you’re shocked having thought we did dirty things at Claridges aren’t you?) and I don’t think N cares ether way to be honest. In fact he says he gets more room to crawl in the cheap places. I think it’s probably just me that likes the bathrooms and breakfasts at swankville.

Today has been a round of medical appointments. A consultant looked at my screwed up knee and cleverly decided it’s screwed up, I had blood tests etc. I am feeling a bit better today than the last couple of days, though that could be drugs. Tonight is big drug night so maybe that will help. Keep your fingers crossed for me please.

I’m dieting and shifting some of the weight I’ve put on at a pleasing rate. I’m currently losing about a pound a day so that’s something and I am hoping to be back to normal fairly soon. And despite being unwell I’m making some inroads into my various plans for new year – on the ones that can be done from the comfort of home anyway.