I am now, officially, the ‘Decrapper Extraordinaire’. After three days of constant pawing through boxes of crap and carting said crap out to the lawn by the postbox for city collection, I think I’m done. Well, I’m not actually done, there’s probably a lot more I’d be throwing out if I were allowed to, but Master has reached his tolerance level for parting with things so therefore we are ‘done’.
As he is a man, I know it’s traumatic for Master to lose things. I can truly feel the heartache at seeing one’s plastic, spider-infested port-a-loo (not used since 1987) out on the verge and the multi-page scanner (bought fifteen years ago, not used for the past seven years and well and truly superseded by my new multifunction hp printer/scanner/ copier) sitting forlornly on the grass. In fact, the loss of the multipage scanner was entirely too much for Master to bear and he brought it back in again *rolls eyes skyward*.
Men and stuff.
I just don’t get it. I’m yet to meet a man who doesn’t ‘collect’ something- whether it be car parts, computer parts, or just general crap. I know a lot of men will pipe up at this point and say, ‘But what about women and shoes?’ Yes, I own a lot of shoes, but the 23 pairs of boots I wear are for Master’s boot fetish and he was the purchaser of all but 4 pairs. Maybe I’m just a practical slut or something, but I don’t understand the fascination of keeping things that you will never use and which just make cleaning the house a nightmare, and being the one that cleans the house, “We are not amused.”
Is it a way of escaping mortality? Does surrounding yourself with things somehow make you less anxious or less fearful of death? Or is it just a way of putting notches on your belt i.e the more I have, the better I am? I really don’t get it. If someone knows, can you let me in on the secret?
Okay, now that I’ve got that off my chest, I can move on to bigger and brighter topics! Yay!
Christmas. Yes, I was a stupid fuckwit and bought Master a suede flogger and clover clamps. It was actually a good thing that I had my horny window open or things could of gotten nasty. I fessed up to Master about having already used the clover clamps on numerous occasions when I was releasing. Sitting there, gleaming in my desk drawer, they just looked too delicious to pass up, so I carefully removed them from the packaging and used those vicious clamps whenever I felt the need. I felt a bit guilty about using something that I was actually intending to give as a present, but kept repeating to myself that I was just ‘building up my tolerance so Master can have some real fun’. What I didn’t realise is that using them yourself and being able to remove them when things just got too ouchie is very,very different to being at the mercy of your domly one, who might just feel the need to tug or move them around and who is gonna leave them on there for as long as he fucking wants. My poor nipples….that’s all I can say.
I spent most of Xmas day proffering my botty for attention and receiving it various forms- hand-spanking, flogging, paddling, caning. I’m sure I could of taken over from Rudolph and led the sleigh with my glowing red botty after the good workout that Master gave it. Following that we had a lovely lunch of salmon and salad and spent the rest of our time chilling out from the heat. Perth had its hottest Christmas on record with temperatures peaking at nearly 45 (113 fahrenheit) on the 26th. It seemed quite bizarre to see the massive snowstorms etc. in America on the news, while here breathing was enough to make you sweat.
Master bought me an iPod and various accessories, two bottles of perfume and two pairs of boots (not actually sure who they are for…lol). The gifts are all things that I really wanted, so I am one content slave girl. I gave Master some ‘nilla-ish clothes and an electronic desktop calendar. Shopping for his clothes on Christmas Eve, I was once again struck by just how hot a shirt and tie can be. Looking through the racks of ties for something to match his shirt, I actually think I was puddling. Mmm…..men’s clothes…definitely rank up with ear cleaning.
New Year’s Eve we’re heading off to a dungeon party and hopefully I’ll get beaten into the new year. Fingers crossed for me!