Yesterday I read this post by faerie, and it struck a chord with me that vibrated the rest of the day, and apparently into the night. I think a trigger warning might be appropriate right here too.
Thankfully my situation never became like hers, my mom took me and left my dad as soon as he began showing strange interests in me when I was around 3, so I don't know if it would have escalated or not. He's dead now and I never had a conversation with him - the one memory I have of him is of torturous neglect bordering on abuse.
I still have contact with his family though, and I'll be visiting them this holiday season. Faerie's post and this fact seem to have combined to give me a nightmare that was truly terrifying.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza 2011
Organized by the awesome Jz, and I'm thrilled to be participating!
Chocolate chip coconut cookies:
Scrambling to create a recipe, I kind of stumbled on this one during Thanksgiving prep.
The holidays have always meant coconut to me, probably something to do with the coconut candy my grandfather always brought home from the local mom & pop grocery store. I've seen similarly shaped and colored candies in big box stores in my adulthood, but they lacked the soft suppleness of the ones from my younger days. Sadly, that grocery store is long out of business, though thankfully a local man runs a hardware shop in the building, which is by far better than it being torn down.
I'm nowhere near that town right now, but I still take comfort in knowing these small details.
So, these cookies are mostly coconut, but all around the edges and on the bottoms it becomes crunchy and it kind of dissolves in your mouth like fabulous sugary wonderfulness.
Ingredients:
1 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/2 cup all-purpose flour (unbleached preferably)
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar
dash salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but awesome)
3 tablespoons coconut oil, melted
2 tablespoons mini chocolate chips (or more if you like a lot of chocolate)
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Mix the coconut, flour, sugar, and salt together
Pour the melted coconut oil and extracts over and work until moistened throughout
Add the chocolate chips and mix.
Form thin-(ish) cookies with your hands, then place them about half an inch apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.
Bake for around 12-15 minutes, until the cookies look crispy around the edges and toasted on top.
Remove cookies from oven, let cool on pan for several minutes, then remove carefully with spatula to a cooler spot. Cooling is very important with these cookies, they'll turn crispier as they cool and be much more awesome.
In our family of 3 adults and 1 child, my cookies were gone before the day was out.
Here's the list of everyone else who's participating, looks like an even 40, including me:
Chocolate chip coconut cookies:
The holidays have always meant coconut to me, probably something to do with the coconut candy my grandfather always brought home from the local mom & pop grocery store. I've seen similarly shaped and colored candies in big box stores in my adulthood, but they lacked the soft suppleness of the ones from my younger days. Sadly, that grocery store is long out of business, though thankfully a local man runs a hardware shop in the building, which is by far better than it being torn down.
I'm nowhere near that town right now, but I still take comfort in knowing these small details.
So, these cookies are mostly coconut, but all around the edges and on the bottoms it becomes crunchy and it kind of dissolves in your mouth like fabulous sugary wonderfulness.
Ingredients:
1 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/2 cup all-purpose flour (unbleached preferably)
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar
dash salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but awesome)
3 tablespoons coconut oil, melted
2 tablespoons mini chocolate chips (or more if you like a lot of chocolate)
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Mix the coconut, flour, sugar, and salt together
Pour the melted coconut oil and extracts over and work until moistened throughout
Add the chocolate chips and mix.
Bake for around 12-15 minutes, until the cookies look crispy around the edges and toasted on top.
Remove cookies from oven, let cool on pan for several minutes, then remove carefully with spatula to a cooler spot. Cooling is very important with these cookies, they'll turn crispier as they cool and be much more awesome.
In our family of 3 adults and 1 child, my cookies were gone before the day was out.
Here's the list of everyone else who's participating, looks like an even 40, including me:
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
How does he do it?
I was sitting at the table, commenting on someone's blog, and he came over to see what I was doing.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Just checking on you," he responded, kissing my cheek, threading his hand through my hair at the back of my head, and pulling firmly, just once, just enough. Right there in the room with my mom! Such a thrill.
Later, there was sex.
"Can I help you?" I asked.
"Just checking on you," he responded, kissing my cheek, threading his hand through my hair at the back of my head, and pulling firmly, just once, just enough. Right there in the room with my mom! Such a thrill.
Later, there was sex.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Late-night scene
Wow.
Got my ass belted, for nothing in particular.
I was kneeling, folded up, my face down on a pillow and my arms out, palms pressed against the wall. I just sort of folded up into that position when we went to bed, exhausted from a long day of fun. I had no idea we were about to do anything but sleep.
"What are you doing?" he asked me, a little amused by the position I was in.
"Nothing," I responded, my voice muffled by the pillow.
"I think your ass wants some attention," he said while he slowly rubbed his hand across it.
"Is that right?" I wonder what could possibly give him that idea? This was one time I would actually have been okay with sleeping. Not that I'm complaining, mind!
"Oh, yeah." I heard the clink of a buckle and then heard the loud slap of a belt against the curve of my posterior. I drew in breath sharply as the next slap landed, a little higher. That hurt, dammit. WTF. He miraculously landed three blows in the same spot, and I moved forward to get away from the burning pain but quickly settled myself back into position. "That's right, little bitch, you take what I give you, don't you?" He was really getting into it, and I kept moving up-and-down on my knees in the vain hope that the next blow wouldn't land on already marked flesh. Squeals I was no longer able to muffle spilled between the lips I was biting in order to keep the noise down. He hit my lower back, the curve of my ass, the backs of my thighs, but most of the pain was focused on the top half of my right cheek. It burned like crazy.
Got my ass belted, for nothing in particular.
I was kneeling, folded up, my face down on a pillow and my arms out, palms pressed against the wall. I just sort of folded up into that position when we went to bed, exhausted from a long day of fun. I had no idea we were about to do anything but sleep.
"What are you doing?" he asked me, a little amused by the position I was in.
"Nothing," I responded, my voice muffled by the pillow.
"I think your ass wants some attention," he said while he slowly rubbed his hand across it.
"Is that right?" I wonder what could possibly give him that idea? This was one time I would actually have been okay with sleeping. Not that I'm complaining, mind!
"Oh, yeah." I heard the clink of a buckle and then heard the loud slap of a belt against the curve of my posterior. I drew in breath sharply as the next slap landed, a little higher. That hurt, dammit. WTF. He miraculously landed three blows in the same spot, and I moved forward to get away from the burning pain but quickly settled myself back into position. "That's right, little bitch, you take what I give you, don't you?" He was really getting into it, and I kept moving up-and-down on my knees in the vain hope that the next blow wouldn't land on already marked flesh. Squeals I was no longer able to muffle spilled between the lips I was biting in order to keep the noise down. He hit my lower back, the curve of my ass, the backs of my thighs, but most of the pain was focused on the top half of my right cheek. It burned like crazy.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Vibrations without batteries
We went to bed insanely early (like 8 PM), he held me and we talked for a long, long time.
I told him if he has irritants that he can't work out of his system I'd be awfully pleased if he'd work them out on me.
He asked me to teach him something. Out of the blue, just, "Teach me something."
I stammered for a while, unsure what to say before I finally stumbled onto something.
"You don't like to bind me much, and that makes me sad," I told him quietly, normally, like that's something a person says to another person. It's so bizarre, This Thing We Do.
He responded that he doesn't like to fumble, and so I told him he can tell me what to do, to put my limbs in position and tell me not to move. While that's perhaps not as satisfying as rope or cuffs, it's a lot better than nothing at all.
Then he asked me about role play, and how one starts it. "Don't you remember?" I asked him. It's not like we've never played roles before, but admittedly, it's been quite a long time.
We talked and talked and talked. I love talking to him; he makes me feel normal, just by his complete acceptance.
He turned the lights off and did stuff to me, but of course I don't remember it all. He put my hands over my head and told me to keep them the hell out of his way and to make sure not to touch him, then he flogged my thighs and breasts hard. "Take your shirt off!" he barked at me when it fell down from where he had shoved it and covered one of my breasts. I rolled on my side to do it and he flogged my ass while my back was turned. "Good girl," he told me when I rolled onto my back again.
I didn't feel like a particularly good girl. I felt like a hurting girl; my thighs were stinging and it was all I could do to keep them open. I can't take as much pain there as I can on my breasts, but he seems determined to hurt me more there. He sucked on one nipple while he flogged the other one and I actually screamed once in mid-sigh. The scream was more from surprise at the sudden impact than the pain, although it did hurt quite a bit.
He made me suck his cock, told me I could use my hands but not to touch anything but his legs and cock, so I was careful. He fucked my face violently, flogging my ass while he did. I was gasping and shuddering by the time he pulled away and ordered me atop him. "Get up here and fuck this cock for me," he told me roughly. "That's a good fuck toy," he whispered as I settled down over his hardness, "and now, since you get the cock, I get to play with these breasts. They are for my amusement, right?" He played with them and tugged on and squeezed my nipples, drawing little "oh, oh, oh" cries from me. I tried to sit all the way up and rock like that, but the intensity of the position knocked me forward - he forced me to stay mostly upright with his hands gripping my breasts, until finally he let me bend more, much to my relief. It was pretty hard to do all that without touching his upper body too...
My legs were wearing out at one point, and the intensity was overwhelming me. I started grunting small little "nuh-uh" noises, and he slapped my ass and said "What? You don't get to say nuh-uh, you get to fuck me until I'm done. Fuck toys don't get to say no."
He made me ride him until he spent himself, although he did finally let me touch him when I begged.
Afterward, while he held me, he shoved two fingers in my mouth, ordering me to suck. My left leg was bent slightly as I lay on my back, and my entire thigh started vibrating while I sucked his fingers. I'm not talking exhaustion tremors, we're talking full-on battery-operated vibration. I had no control over the damn thing, and at first I thought it was something he was doing to my leg with his other hand while I sucked. It was quite titillating at the time.
I pulled my mouth off his fingers long enough to ask what the hell he was doing to me... and it turns out, nothing at all. He put his hand on my thigh and felt the vibrations there, and he freaked out. "Stop it!" he told me. No dice. I can't comply with an order if I can't control whatever's going on.
So weird.
I told him if he has irritants that he can't work out of his system I'd be awfully pleased if he'd work them out on me.
He asked me to teach him something. Out of the blue, just, "Teach me something."
I stammered for a while, unsure what to say before I finally stumbled onto something.
"You don't like to bind me much, and that makes me sad," I told him quietly, normally, like that's something a person says to another person. It's so bizarre, This Thing We Do.
He responded that he doesn't like to fumble, and so I told him he can tell me what to do, to put my limbs in position and tell me not to move. While that's perhaps not as satisfying as rope or cuffs, it's a lot better than nothing at all.
Then he asked me about role play, and how one starts it. "Don't you remember?" I asked him. It's not like we've never played roles before, but admittedly, it's been quite a long time.
We talked and talked and talked. I love talking to him; he makes me feel normal, just by his complete acceptance.
He turned the lights off and did stuff to me, but of course I don't remember it all. He put my hands over my head and told me to keep them the hell out of his way and to make sure not to touch him, then he flogged my thighs and breasts hard. "Take your shirt off!" he barked at me when it fell down from where he had shoved it and covered one of my breasts. I rolled on my side to do it and he flogged my ass while my back was turned. "Good girl," he told me when I rolled onto my back again.
I didn't feel like a particularly good girl. I felt like a hurting girl; my thighs were stinging and it was all I could do to keep them open. I can't take as much pain there as I can on my breasts, but he seems determined to hurt me more there. He sucked on one nipple while he flogged the other one and I actually screamed once in mid-sigh. The scream was more from surprise at the sudden impact than the pain, although it did hurt quite a bit.
He made me suck his cock, told me I could use my hands but not to touch anything but his legs and cock, so I was careful. He fucked my face violently, flogging my ass while he did. I was gasping and shuddering by the time he pulled away and ordered me atop him. "Get up here and fuck this cock for me," he told me roughly. "That's a good fuck toy," he whispered as I settled down over his hardness, "and now, since you get the cock, I get to play with these breasts. They are for my amusement, right?" He played with them and tugged on and squeezed my nipples, drawing little "oh, oh, oh" cries from me. I tried to sit all the way up and rock like that, but the intensity of the position knocked me forward - he forced me to stay mostly upright with his hands gripping my breasts, until finally he let me bend more, much to my relief. It was pretty hard to do all that without touching his upper body too...
My legs were wearing out at one point, and the intensity was overwhelming me. I started grunting small little "nuh-uh" noises, and he slapped my ass and said "What? You don't get to say nuh-uh, you get to fuck me until I'm done. Fuck toys don't get to say no."
He made me ride him until he spent himself, although he did finally let me touch him when I begged.
Afterward, while he held me, he shoved two fingers in my mouth, ordering me to suck. My left leg was bent slightly as I lay on my back, and my entire thigh started vibrating while I sucked his fingers. I'm not talking exhaustion tremors, we're talking full-on battery-operated vibration. I had no control over the damn thing, and at first I thought it was something he was doing to my leg with his other hand while I sucked. It was quite titillating at the time.
I pulled my mouth off his fingers long enough to ask what the hell he was doing to me... and it turns out, nothing at all. He put his hand on my thigh and felt the vibrations there, and he freaked out. "Stop it!" he told me. No dice. I can't comply with an order if I can't control whatever's going on.
So weird.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Polishing up lovemaking
A few days ago, while having a conversation about my blog, my husband said "I dunno. It seems like you take the act of our lovemaking and... polish it up."
I stared at him, my mouth open. "I do what now?"
"You know, you make me sound less awkward and stuff."
"Oh, baby, you are not awkward. You are so not awkward."
This is what I mean when I say I'm missing half of what's going on.. how does he take the things that go on between us and come away from that thinking he's awkward?
Last night he flogged my inner thighs until I screamed and tried to close my legs, and then he forced them open again and kept flogging them, tossing a few strikes to my breasts when he felt like it. Was I in any condition to think he was awkward? No. I wasn't in any condition to think much of anything.
Most of the time I look at something I've written and I think "No, no. That's not quite it." My writing comes close, but it still fails to completely capture the magnificence of our interactions.
I do not polish anything up.
Silly man.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Ruminations on Hannah Cullwick
Happy December, everybody! Isn't life fantastic?
I've been reading this fabulous book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life. The book is awesome, but it's taking me forever to read it (months!) because it gives short descriptions of all of these fascinating topics, which then causes me to research each one more in-depth. It's really a great book. In it, Bill Bryson mentions Hannah Cullwick (1833-1909), a woman diarist and servant who wound up secretly married to a higher-class gentleman.
What kind of examinations do you think our blogs will get, a hundred+ years from now? Will they just fade from existence, be deleted on a whim, or relegated to the background noise of ten million self-publishers? I'm making some effort to preserve mine. There may be a lot more windows into existence now than there were then, but private life is still quite hidden, mysterious, and fascinating.
I've been reading this fabulous book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life. The book is awesome, but it's taking me forever to read it (months!) because it gives short descriptions of all of these fascinating topics, which then causes me to research each one more in-depth. It's really a great book. In it, Bill Bryson mentions Hannah Cullwick (1833-1909), a woman diarist and servant who wound up secretly married to a higher-class gentleman.
Hannah was a kinkster, you guys. No lie.
She would have probably been a blogger if she had the tech. Check out the chain around her neck, the strap on her wrist. Did I mention that this is a topless photo of a woman taken before the turn of the 20th century, and not for public consumption, but for private perusal? If you do a google image search for her, you'll find other images. There was an independent film done about her writings as well. It's all very interesting and sheds a completely different light on what life was like at that time - for me, anyway. You think of people being prim and proper and, well, Victorian. These guys were living the life - before easy birth control. It's amazing!
Have any of you heard of her?
Cullwick proudly referred to herself as Munby's "drudge and slave", and called him "Massa", an example of a Master/slave relationship. For much of her life, she wore a leather strap around her right wrist and a locking chain around her neck, to which Munby had a key. She wrote letters almost daily to him, describing her long hours of work in great detail. She would arrange to visit him "in my dirt", showing the results of a full day of cleaning and other domestic work. She had a particular interest in boots, cleaning hundreds each year, sometimes by licking them. She once told Munby she could tell where her "Massa" had been by how his boots tasted.
Despite her display of subservience and loyalty, Cullwick remained independent. She stood up for herself if she thought the terms of her relationship with Munby were being violated. She entered marriage with Munby reluctantly, seeing it as dependency and boredom. They were secretly married in 1873, after which she moved to his lodgings, where she lived as his servant, though she sometimes played the role of his wife. She also retained her own surname and insisted that Munby continue to pay her wages, and she had her own savings. She left him far more often than he did her, and in 1877 she returned to working as a servant in Shropshire. Munby was a regular visitor from 1882 until her death.
Kink isn't new, not a bit, we just have a stronger grasp on how many people are practicing kink due to our fabulous wealth of information. Bill Bryson doesn't mention the M/s aspect of this relationship, merely using the diary itself as a window into the world of servants of that era - but Hannah Cullwick hardly seems to be a "typical" servant, now does she? He does mention how even getting a bath seems to be a major accomplishment for her, as she often sleeps "in my dirt," but I'm not entirely sure that's not a kink itself. The diaries were apparently written for her "massa," at his request, too.Her diaries reveal that the erotic games with Munby often included infantilism and ageplay, with Cullwick carrying Munby in her arms and holding him on her lap.
Cullwick appeared in Munby's photographs in many different roles: a farm girl, a kitchen drudge, a chimney sweep with blackface, a well-dressed lady (though with her hands, unmistakably those of a working woman, prominently displayed), a Magdalen, and even a man. Her ability to take different roles delighted Munby.
What kind of examinations do you think our blogs will get, a hundred+ years from now? Will they just fade from existence, be deleted on a whim, or relegated to the background noise of ten million self-publishers? I'm making some effort to preserve mine. There may be a lot more windows into existence now than there were then, but private life is still quite hidden, mysterious, and fascinating.
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