Happy New Year

Happy New Years. A new beginning, a brand new fresh year. What to do with it? I can tell you what I'd >like<>probably< do with it.

First of all, I'd like this New Year to be filled with love, joy and hope. I'd like to achieve the goals I set for mysefl. I want to see an improvement in our lives. I want to see my husband begin his formal schooling and find himself very successful at it. I want to see us get out of debt and be able to start over without worrying about yet another bill coming after us. In order to achieve this, here are my resolutions.

1. Lose weight
2. Stop smoking
3. Go to church more often
4. Stop procrastanating
5. Find an orderly system for our house
6. Find a better job
7. Get one of our car's fixed
8. See my niece get married
9. Get us in a better financial position



And, I typed and typed lots of stuff in addition to this, but, somehow lost it and now don't feel like re-doing it.

Sorry I haven't posted recently, three people down at work so I'm working like a dog. I have one day off this week and the boss scheduled a meeting that I have to go to on that day, so, really I don't have a day off. Will try to post every other day at minimum, but if I don't, you'll know it's just me being too tired.

Sea Rabbit, thanks for your support, you've been great, I love getting comments from you. As soon as I get some time I will link up to your blog. Going to go there now and read a bit. TTYL.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all
(bit late I know

A Continuation

Sea Rabbit made me think of a couple of things as I read her comment. I started out by putting this into the comment section, but realized I had alot to say about it.

It's true that men use sex as a weapon. I spent seven years married to a man who thought I was his personal fuck toy. Now, coming from someone who is delving into a dom/sub lifestyle all on her own free will, that might sound a little contridictoray. Let me tell you the difference. My first husband, did not care about me or my needs. He did not love me, or treat me as a person, in or out of our bedroom.

With my husband, I know that no matter what we experiment with, he loves me. He would never do anything that would scar me physically, or emotionally. This has made me feel safe enough to venture into places I had never been before. He makes me feel safe and secure. I want to serve him, to please him, to be the perfect wife and mother for him and our children. I had no such desires for my ex. I loved him, but I never felt the need to kneel between his legs and worship him the way I do my husband.

Anyway, the ex would demand sex from me. If I was not in the mood, or I was sick, or whatever happened to be the issue, he would guilt me. He would belittle me and tell me I was not keeping up on my wedding vows, that I was a failure as a wife, that I needed to have sex with him, even if I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed. That was the kind of lover he was. Selfish to the max. He actually raped me several times. Once was even while our daughter lay less then ten feet from us. He knew I wouldn't scream. Knew there was nothing I could do. He made me believe that even if I reported it, it wouldn't be taken seriously because he was my husband, that was his right.

He would use this to bargin with me. He is an alchoholic and many nights were spent fighting over the fact that he had taken his entire paycheck and treated whoever happened to be at the bar to drinks all night and would come home with nothing. Nothing. No way to pay the rent, or the light bills, or buy diapers for our baby. He left me with nothing and hell yes we would fight over it. The sex thing came in, when he wanted to do something. He would promise not to ask me for sex, if I would let him go hang out with his friends, or go drinking at his mom's house, or whatever he wanted to do.

How funny it seems to me that only now, after Sea Rabbits comment, did I realize how much he used sex to control me. Not the threat of not having it, but the threat that we >would< have it. Not only were we married seven years, but, it has now been almost seven years since our divorce. Fourteen years and it just dawned on me.

Wich sort of leads into the rest of her comment. About how these people must not like sex. I don't think it is so much that they don't like >sex< as it is that they don't like who they are having sex with. My selfish ex husband did nothing for me. We had to keep a tube of KY or Vasaline next to the bed for lubrication. I honestly thought there was something wrong with me because no amount of foreplay could get me wet.

Now, I have to laugh at that notion. My husband >looks< at me a certain way and I can feel myself getting wet. There are many times when we are making love when we will have to take a breather so I can dry off a little bit. The man excites me, his touch makes me shiver and I feel it somewhere deep inside of me.

I learned this long ago when my husband and I were first together. Even now it sometimes suprised me, but, it does tell me that it was never me that had the problem. It was my ex. His lack of love, caring, and understanding of what I like.

So, for all of you out there, who are using sex as a weapon. Stop, look at yourself, ask yourself why you are doing that. Make sure that the person you are with, is the one that you >want< to be with, the one that stirs that something deep inside of you. Make sure that you give your all to that person. Talk to them. You have no idea how great good communication is for a relationship. Don't think your partner will listen? What do you have to loose? Think about that. Think about how they feel each time they realize that you are not having sex with them because you love them, but because you can get something, or, get out of something, by giving or not giving sex. Try it, just once. I for one, am going to go tell my husband just how much he means to me.

Life's Whore

I think I should rename my blog. As much as I want to write about my sex life, the wonderful journey into submissivness, I just always find something else that weighs on my mind more. This is my outlet, my place to let it all go. I should call it "Life's Whore" because that's who I feel I am at the moment. No matter how hard I try, she fucks me, long and hard, everytime I turn around. I don't get to say no, I don't get to say not right now, it's just plain old "Shut your mouth and take it" fucking.

Bi-polar. Such a lovely word isn't it? It's the new fancy terminology for manic depressant. That's me. I should be on medication, but I'm not. Why? I guess it's because like all bi-polar people, I think I can handle it. That's what happens during my "manic" moments. I think that I'm all better and I shouldn't have to take it, so I stop.

Not that I can afford the medication anyway. I have no insurance. Why don't I have insurance? Because simply, I can't afford it. Why can't I afford it? Because I work a shit job for shit money and I have a family of five to support.

My family. That should be my shinning light right? Of course. But is it? At the moment, no. Why is that? Because when I get depressed, all I can do is sleep. So, not a big deal right? Well, yeah, because then my children don't get up on time to get themselves to school. Well, now I'm sure you wondering why I don't drive them. Because I can't. Why can't I? Because no matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to drive them to school. So they miss a day, who cares right? Well, I care, I feel like a horrible mother.

It isn't just that. I woke up this morning, the children had missed getting to school. Not because they weren't up on time, but because they decided to watch television instead of getting ready and leaving for school. Oh well, I guess I need to go back to the old policy. That used to be "If you miss school and are not sick, you will be put to work all day long." the thought behind it being that they would prefer to be at school during the day.

So, after much effort, I climb my ass out of bed only to find that my eight year old son, for reasons still unknown, has spit on the floor. Not just once, but, he's made an entire pile of spit, the size of my hand, on the floor. Nothing is more disguisting to me then fluids out of the mouth. Be it spit or vomit. I can't hack it.

I remember once, when I was younger, going on a trip to a cabin. There was no running water up there, so, we had to brush our teeth and spit into a cup. I was so grossed out that I began to wretch, which led into me vomiting. I have a very sensative stomach. Once I start gagging, I know it is going to end up in me vomiting. Now, even though he's cleaned it up, I can still picture it on the floor. I am struggling to not start gagging. Ugh. Thank God I didn't step in it.

My daughter, has decided, that even though she was up in time, and decided to climb back into bed, that it's all her brother's fault she didn't make it to school. So, of course, she has a nasty little attitude. Wonderful. Just what I needed this morning.

My youngest, I can't complain about. Other then, the first thing he does is ask me if I have to go to work. I tell him later since I have to work graveyard tonight. He says "yay!". Daddy asks him why he said "yay" and he says "Because mom doesn't have to go to work right now" Awwwww. I start to cry.

One of my best friends asks me how I'm doing this morning. I try to tell him I am depressed. He asks if I have started my medication. For the first time ever. I lie to him and tell him I started them again a few weeks ago. I just can't deal with the disapointment from him. I can't tell him I can't afford the medication, or even the doctor visit. I don't know why. He's never judged me before. He even offered to send me some of his antideppresents. I should take him up on it, but, I can't.


I should maybe force myself to get up and get something done. I can't. I don't feel like doing anything. I want to curl up in a corner of my bed and just cry myself to sleep. But, I can't. I can't let it win. I feel like I would die crying if I started. I feel like I have this darkness hovering over me, waiting to swoop in and smother me at the first sign of weakness. I have to be strong. I have to keep going for my family.

I want to tell my husband how bad I feel inside. But I can't. Not without making him feel bad too. How can I tell him I hate my life? That I am feeling suicidal. I mean, I know, and he knows, I would never actually hurt myself. But, I want to. I think that he would be better off if he found someone more stable. As would my children. But, the thought of that, the pain of thinking of him with someone else, cuts through my heart. It hurts so bad that it phsyically hurts me, makes my stomach hurt. How can I tell him it is how I honestly feel right now. He obviously knows I'm bi-polar. He doesn't understand it. He has a very logical mind, and so for him, there is a very simple solution. Stop feeling like that. I want to scream every time he says that. I can't fucking stop. Trust me, I'd love to stop this roller coaster of emotions I always seem to be on. I hate it.

I want to be a better mother. I want to be a better wife. A better sister. A better daughter. A better aunt. A better grandaughter. I want to be a better person period. I just don't know how.

Have I mentioned I hate Christmas? I do. I think I officially hate all holidays. Here is a little story that makes me smile because I can relate to Santa in this.

When four of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves
did not prooduce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was
beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This
stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three
of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were
out, heaven knows where. More stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards
cracked, and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys.

So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of
apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered
that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink. In
his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it
broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get
the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw
end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to
the door. He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a
great big Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas,
Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would
you like me to stick it?"

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of
the Christmas tree.

Vacation

For any faithful readers I have. I am going to be gone for a couple of days on vacation. My first one in six years. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm so excited. See ya soon.

Dear Substitute Ann Landers

Every day I read the "Ann Landers" column in the paper. Yes I know she passed away, but, I still call it that because I can't be bothered learning the names of the women who took over. I find the delima's of people to be A) something I can relate to, B) interesting, or C) so amusing that I actually have to laugh out loud. I like the ones, where people make "advice lists" so, I decided I would write my own letter to Ann Landers.

Dear Substitute Ann Landers,

I see you print alot of "do and don't lists". Thought I would include mine in that little group. This is a list of do's and don't's for people who are visiting my truck stop.

1. Don't tell me how to do my job, most of you are truckers, not managers.
2. This is my place of employment, not your house, pick up after your own damn self.
3. I don't care what the other store does, I'm telling you how it's done at mine. Shut up.
4. Stop saying "typical service for this place". We are a busy store, get over, or go somewhere else.
5. When you see the sign saying "local checks only", don't try to convince me you've written checks here before when you are obviously not local.
6. Never ever, go into a place, with only one way to pay for your stuff, unless it's cash.
7. Follow your mother's advice. If you can't say anything nice. Shut up.
8. I am not your "sweetheart", "suger", " darling", "dear", "love" or any of the other stupid names you make up to call me. I have a name, and it's right here on my damn badge. Learn to read.
9. If you are from another country, please learn how to give me your company name, your truck number, tell me how you will be paying, and, if need be, your plate number.
10. If you can't do #9, don't get pissed if I ask you the same thing several times, it annoys the hell out of me too.
11. That really cool toy that is on display that says "press me". Don't press it unless you really think you might buy it. I listen to that fucker at least 30 times in an hour, and at a minute long for each little demonstration, means I listen to it for half an hour, and sell one a week.
12. Don't ask me to go get things for you, if you are not going to buy them.
13. Have your money ready. Don't make me wait while you dig out change. If you can drive a truck, you should be able to add and know what your spending.
14. If I ask you for information, it's because I need it, not because I want it. Just give me the damn answers.
15. Don't stand in front of me to "fix" your money in your wallet.
16. Don't try to run a credit card you know is maxxed out.
17. I am a hell of a fast cashier. I can ring up 70 people in an hour. The reason you wait so long in my line, is because the person in front of does one or more of the others listed here.
18. See the ring on my finger? Means I'm married. No I don't want to have dinner with you, no I don't want to have your children, no I don't want to go fuck in your truck. Get bent.
19. When I ask for your drivers liscense, give me the damn thing, I need the information on it, because I can tell you, looking at your face in person is alot less painful then that picture.
20. STOP STEALING!
21. PAY FOR YOUR GAS!
22. Don't yell at me, call me a bitch, whore, or cunt. I will get nasty.
23. Whoever told you "The customer is always right" lied. I will get in your face if you get in mine.
24. If I tell you I'm not selling you tobacco or alchohol, don't tell me I can't refuse. I can, I will, I did. Fuck off.
25. Seriously, I know my counter is just the right height, but don't lift your nasty ass belly up and flop it down on my counter. I have to desinfect. It's time consuming.
26. If you make a mess, clean it up. Or, you know, at the very least, have the curtesy to tell me there is one so I can have someone else do it.
27. Everyone makes mistakes. If you drive off with my pump still in your tank, it's all good, just FUCKING TELL ME!
28. No, I do not discount the food at any point in time. We are open 24/7, 365 days a year, so is the restraunt who provides us the food. We shut down the deli for one hour a night to clean it, the food is kept fresh.
29. Stop acting like I owe you. I don't.
30. Try smiling, speaking in a pleasent tone, and adding please and thank you every once in a while. You have no idea how far it goes.


Now, with all that said. It sounds like I hate my job. Sometimes I do. Most of the time, I don't. I love to chat with the guys who come in, tell me how their days are, what's going on in their lives. It is a challenge. My place of business is so busy that we easily do a million gallons in desiel fuel every month. We have 15 showes, four bathrooms, a full restraunt, two deli areas, a driver's lounge, and a barber shop. There are three televisions in various locations for drivers to relax and watch whatever.
One of my very favorite stories, happened about a year ago. I was working 3pm-11pm. I had a fairly new girl running the "gas end" (seperated by those who buy primarily gas, and those who buy mostly desiel, though we are all trained in all areas and can do anything from any register) and a guy comes in, wants to buy a bunch of those pretty glass cubes that have etchings in the center. Great. He goes to M and tells her he wants the boxes. She explains we don't keep the boxes, but she would be happy to bubble wrap them. From all the way down at the other end, I can hear him going off on her. So, I exscuse myself, go down, see what's happening. He demands a manager. I am the manager. He wants the boxes. We don't keep them but she will be happy to bubble wrap them. No, he wants the boxes. I don't keep them. Understand this? No room in our store for the boxes to everything we carry. After a while, he says " Do you want to make this fucking sale or not?" so, I calmly pick them all up, move them to the back counter and tell him "Not really". I walk away, leaving him with his mouth hanging open. He starts down towards my register just as B makes her way from the back. She stops to ask him if there is a problem. I am watching to make sure he don't get nasty. He says " You need a fucking manager that knows how to treat people" she calmly looks up nearly a foot and a half to meet his gaze and says "Did you talk to her like you're talking to me" he pauses, slowly nods, and she says " You should be ashamed of yourself. I think you should go out to your truck and think about what you did." No joke people, this man, who had to be 6'4" and at least 200 pounds, dropped his head, muttered "yes ma'am" and went out to his truck. Roughly an hour later, he came back and apologized.

Got to love the people.

Another Crappy Day

I feel very. . blah. . today. I don't feel like doing anything. Yet, I have so much to do. I feel overwhelmed with all that is going on in my life.

Husband and I had a fight the day after Thanksgiving. I feel like it is still lingering between us. He was scheduled to go over to his mothers, to do the whole, turkey dinner thing with her, his step dad, and his brother. The day started out like any other. I wake up, my back is icy cold, it has cramped and it hurts like hell. He rubs it, warms it up, it feels a little better. As I am getting ready for work, and the laundry ready to go with him. He comes in to the bathroom, saying his back hurts. Now, normally he would just go lay down and pop his back. But today, he goes right in and takes >my< prescription pills.

See, this wouldn't be a big deal, but the last time he spent time with his mother, he came home drunk. When I asked him about it, he actually told me that he "can't" say no to her, because if he does, she gets nasty and creates a scene. So, the first thought in my mind is "he can't drink with this" and, well, I've never been known to be quiet, so, I tell him I don't want him drinking.

That is when it all hit the fan. He was angry that I dared to tell him what to do. I tried to explain, there were a thousand and one reasons for him not to drink. Mainly the fact that he just took some heavy duty muscle relaxers. The more I tried to reason with him, the more it got out of control.

Now, it's not like I was without fault. I was throwing things up in his face that I knew better then to bring up. But when I get upset, it's like I can't help myself. I think that one of the things that bothered me most was what I preseved as his weakness. I don't want him to be weak, in any way. Here I have suffered, day after day, with horrible back pain, and I don't take medication unless I'm nearly dying over it. At the first little pain in his back, he goes and takes my heavy heavy duty muscle relaxers. Plus the whole " I have to drink with my mom" thing just drove me crazy.

He is so in control at home. He runs the house. He takes a firm hand and keeps the children in line, keeps our lives running smoothly most of the time. How can he not stand up to her after all she's done to him? He knows that she is a drunk. I mean, I adore my mother in law, but it's the truth. Both his parents are drunks. Why does he feel the need to make her happy over me. That is how I felt. Of course, he doesn't understand that. He accused me of trying to control him.

That in of itself was very hurtful to me. It is something that we have never had issues with before. I mean, my family has said he controls me too much and his family says the same about me, but we have always agreed that we are happy with our lives. When he doesn't go out with them, it is because he would rather stay home with me. And, the same with me. At least, that is what he has always told me. His accusation, was like slap in the face. It made me stop and question all the times he's ever told me that. Does he see it like they do? Does he think I control him? Did he stay home and miss out on things because of me? I don't normally ever tell him what to do, this is the second time in nearly six years that I have. That I can recall.

I don't know. Of course, once he left and I went to work, that was the end of it. I knew it would be. If I bring it up, he'll tell me I am just trying to start a fight. I want him to understand me, not fight with me. Maybe I am to complicated. Maybe I am too hard to live with.

So many doubts. So many fears. It is like a sea of darkness. Sometimes I have my boat to keep me on top of it, other times, like this, I feel like I was dumped out of the boat and I'm drowning in all of it. I can only pray that God will eventually find me and lift me out of the void I am feeling.

I hate when I get like this. I know I should be on my medication, but I've been doing so well without it. It makes me tired and groggy.

See, I don't feel like adding anymore, even though I know there is more to add. Guess I'll do that tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is traditionaly a day about families. About traditions. About being grateful for what you have.

Normally, I have always looked forward to Thanksgiving. It brings back some of my few happy memories from being a child. I remember long rows of tables at my grandmother's. A fire going in the fireplace. Aunts, Uncles, and cousins galore gathered around. The smell of the pies and turkeys lingering in the air. The stuffing, the gravy, the "real" mashed potatoes. I remember that we fought over the gizzards so much that my grandmother bought a package of nothing but gizzards to hold us over. Of course, there was also tons of fruit salad, green bean cassaroles, and, pretty much every side dish you could imagine since everyone brought two or three.

How I have longed to recreate such love, and wonder for my own children. I can remember every Thanksgiving that my husband and I have had together. There was our first year, where we went to my younger brother's house. Played games with them and my parents. I was pregnant, sister in law had just had a baby. My oldest kids were with their dad for most of the day. So, it was pretty much us adults. Then the next year, we went to my older brothers. This time, we had a new baby, my younger brother and his wife had a new baby. They deep fried the turkey that year. Not bad, but, not what I really wanted either. Didn't bother my husband, he hates turkey, he hates Thanksgiving. I still made pies and brought them. The next year found us living with my inlaws halfway around the country. My first ever away from my own family. It was hard, but, I cooked my ass off, anything to take my mind of missing them. The year after that, we were in our own place, and I hosted dinner. The inlaws, some guy we had befriended (a horror story for some other time) and us. It was okay, too much hustle and bustle in our small apartment. That year, we simply did our own thing. Tossed out the turkey, instead made a wonderful beef roast, potatoes, carrots, gravy, pumpkin pies, pecan pies, bread pudding, homemade rolls. That, is the same menu we have used ever since. This being the third year.

Well, I had to work this year. Not a great way to start the day. But, knowing I would come home to Thanksgiving was what got me through it. I managed to get 520 people through my register alone. Work was hell.

So, I get home. Husband and children greet me. I am feeling good. Until the husband opens his mouth " I need you to go the store, get cranberrie sauce, stuffing, and wine" I was furious. I just gave away the can of cranberrie sauce from last year to the local food drive. I ASKED HIM ABOUT STUFFING while we were at the store, and, I don't drink. WTF? I'm furious. I head for the door. He gets upset. Does the whole " never mind, never mind, I don't want you to go" crap.
I try to explain I had a rough day. He just wants to talk about how much cooking sucked. So I shut up. After a while, yeah, he wants to go to the store. We go. I head over to get our usual kind of wine. He doesn't want that. He wants a grape wine. Ugh, whatever. He picks out a wine. It has a cork in it. We don't have a corkscrew. We go check out corkscrews. They are more then the damn wine. So he settles for two different brands of cheap crap.

After much ado, we get the table set, settle down to eat. He pours the wine. It is so nasty that I can't drink it. We pray. We sit around talking about what we are thankful for, yadda yadda yadda. It was actually very nice, while it lasted.

As soon as everyone is done. I sit down at the computer. My best friend is online over in Australia. No, they don't celebrate, so, wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving is sort of stupid. But I do it anyway. Husband asks if I want to join their conversation. I say sure. He is relating a piece of the conversation between us and our daughter. A funny story really. I'm in good spirits. She doesn't seem to see the humor in, but, I guess it's one of those "got to be there moments". So, I ask him to tell another story about something that he did last night. He says no, and disconnects. Tells me that he ain't in the mood for her crap. I'm a bit peeved. I didn't feel like conversating. I wanted to spend time with my family. Then he tells me, to go put the food away. I'm stunned. That is a chore for our kids. Why is he making me do it? I ask him. I point out the children always put the food into containers and put it in the fridge. He says he wants me to do it. I ask if I need to do it >right now< , he says no. Fine, I'll get to it in a bit.

Next thing I know. He's settling down on the couch to go to sleep. I ask him why. He says it's because he's been cooking all day. Again, I'm stunned. Hello, I just worked nine fucking hours! I came home and then went shopping, then came home and helped finish dinner. I am expected to put the food away AND make the damn pies. Does anyone else here fail to miss the logic behind this? Then, he tells the kids to go put the food away. It's been FIVE DAMN MINUTES. After telling me it didn't need to be done right away. He did it because he knows I will jump up and do it my damn self.

Now, why is this all such a big deal. Because he let someone online ruin our holiday. He let her crappy mood piss him off enough that he went to sleep, at 8:30 instead of spending time with me and the kids. What kind of crap is that? I know Thanksgiving is not important to him. I get it. I am the same way with Halloween. I hate it, but he loves it. So I help him go all out, and I do it with a fucking smile.

My feelings are hurt. He could have put forth an effort for my sake. I do it for him all the time. Why is her mood and her attitude enough to make him crappy for the rest of the night. To boot, now when I wake him up to go to bed, he won't be tired anymore. I'll end up sleeping alone while he goes online and plays his game. With her, cuz, by then, he will be over it and so will she.

He won't have a fucking clue as to how much he hurt me today. Why? Because he won't listen when I talk. He will brush it aside. This is the last Thanksgiving I plan on celebrating. Every day I am thankful for things. Never again will I go all out and try to make it a memorable one.

Even now, I am fighting with the kids to get them to do their chores and I realize. It isn't important to them. It isn't important to him. I was the only one it mattered to, and now it no longer matters.

Hope your day went better then mine. Happy Thanksgiving.

A Fantasy

She moves into the silenced house, takes note of the dimness. Faintly, she can hear the water running, sounds like the shower. She smiles and moves forward, pulling her clothes off of her as she goes.

The warm steam assaults her as she opens the door silently. Her hard nipples simply seem to get harder and the wetness in between her legs only seems to get wetter with anticipation.

She closes the door quickly to keep the heat in. She can hear him on the other side of the shower curtin. It sounds like he is washing his hair, perfect timing on her part. She smiles again as she pulls back one corner of the curtin and sees that he is indeed washing his hair, his eyes closed, his back to the shower head.

Silently she slips inside, shivering a little because the water is spraying on him and peppering her body, yet, not enough of the liquid to keep her warm. It doesn't matter, that is not what she is here for, she sinks slowly to her knees. Her eyes glue to his manhood. He is so male. So Alpha to her Beta. Her mouth opens and her tongue flickers out to swirl around the tip. He knows she's here now, she can tell by the way his body goes tight from knowing what is about to come.

She presses forward to quickly take him in while he's soft. How she loves to put him in soft and feel him growing hard inside of her mouth. He groans a little and curls his fingers into her hair and steps back, pullng her with him into the warm waterfall. She feels him lengthen, as well as thicken as she worships him. He lets go of her head and lifts his hands to his hair to rince it. He knows that she won't let go. Not his good girl. Not her.

She keeps her lips around him, now that he's hard, she pulls out until only the head of him is in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around, dipping into the little hole, seeking the precum she can taste there. She presses her own thighs together as she feels herself getting wetter. She wants to touch herself, but she doesn't. Not because he won't let her, but because she knows it will better for them together if she doesn't.

She continues this, after a few moments, her hands reach up to fondle his balls, gently rolling them around in her small fingers. The water making everything smooth and slick. Her head moves up and down even as her cheecks hollow out with sucking on him and her tongue presses firmly against him , curling just as the head of him is about to pop out, feeling the ridge with her upcurled tongue. Then she lets her mouth relax and move back down to do it all over again.

She loves how his hands reach into her hair once more and pull her down on him. Her face pressing up against the hairs on his body. Even now, in the shower, she can smell what can only be described as HIM. She moans, sending reverberations throughout her mouth and straight into his body, causing his back to arc slightly.

Her desire, her need for him so strong she can't help but slips her hands around to pull him even closer, her fingers pressing into either side of his well rounded ass. She can feel the muscles tighten under her fingertips as she does, causing her to need more, her nails digging into him slightly.

She feels him jump in her mouth as she does. She would smile if her mouth wasn't so full of him right now. He presses himself into the back of her throat and her fingertips press harder. She nearly whimpers as he pulls her head back off of him. She stares at his hardness. He leans down and lifts her up, wrapping his arms around her wet body and kissing her with more passion then she's ever felt before. His fingers moving up her slick slides to cup her breasts. Her breath catches and she presses herself into him. Loving the feel of his body against hers.

Her head tilts back as he begins a journey with his lips down her neck and over her shoulders. His fingers manipulating the soft flesh of her breasts, never touching the hardened nipples that are straining, begging, for his touch and she whimpers as she slides her hands over his wet body to slip into his hair, pulling him down to her breasts. He burries his face in them, squeezing them together, trailing his tongue along her. Her knees feel weak and her breath is quick. She leans even farther back.

Like a man possessed, his head dips quickly to take a nipple in between his teeth, biting at her delicate skin. The wetness trickling down the inside of her thighs is not from the warm water moving over them, but from her own readiness to be claimed by him. Her Male.

He lifts her up into his arms, cradling her like baby, his face burried against her breasts, her face burried into his neck as she whispers his name. He carries her with ease into the next room and gently lays her on the bed, uncaring that they are both sopping wet. They are the only two things in the world right now and she sees it when she looks into his eyes.

His fingers move down and touch her gently, teasing her, a hint of amusement in his expression. She growls softly and digs her nails painfully into his neck, causing the amusement to shift to lust as he plunges his finger into her. Her body arcs as her first orgasm washes over her, unaware of just how tightly she is holding onto him until after her body comes back down.

He smiles softly, with love in his eyes as he rubs himself against her leg. His finger still moves inside of her in slow, methodical movements. She can't help but blush and smile back at him. Suprised by her own reaction to him. She knew it would be intense, but caught unawares at just how intense until this moment. Her fingers find him and begin to stroke him, her body wiggling against his finger, moaning softly as he finds and taunts the secret spot within her.

He waits for her to beg, like he knows she will. Assaulting her body with kisses along her neck and ears, down to her breasts. She begs him to enter her, to make her complete. He just smiles a lazy smile and moves down farther, never removing his finger all the way. Just sliding it in and out of her as his lips leave a firey trail down her skin. She feels his warm breath upon her sex and her body twitches in anticipation. He watches her. Their eyes meeting before he slowly reaches out with his tongue and licks the outer lips of her. She begs him for more. He continues to tease her with his tongue, slow, lazy movements, designed to force her to hover on the brink.

His finger presses deep into her, followed by a second one and she cries out as he stretches her. She knows it is nothing compared to how large he is, but she feels so full. He rubs his face on the inside of her thighs and enhales her womenly scent. She nearly sobs as she begs him to fill her with himself.

With an indulgent smile, he presses his face against her, his mouth sucking her clit in and nibbling on it while her fingers press him down on her and her hips lift to meet his lips. She shudders through another orgasm and lays back spent.

He moves over her, placing himself between her legs. The tip of him pressing into her, he seems bigger now. Maybe it is his need, maybe it is just her imagination. Her hips buck up against him, trying to force himself into her more to no avail. Soft whimpering is all she can manage at the moment. The lust in her brain overwhelming her. She needs him inside of her. She needs him to make her whole again. "Please love, please, mark me, take me, make me yours" her words are barely above a whisper, but they are loud enough.

He burries himself into her as far as he will go and she screams as her body tries to adjust to his size, her nails raking down his back. He holds there for the longest moment, savoring in the heat of her, in the way her body was meant to be his, in her gift to him.

Slowly he begins to move in and out of her with ease, her body clinging tightly to him each time he pulls out and thrusting forward to meet him each time he presses in. It seems like forever in her mind, her body and his slick with sweat as the move against each other.

He speeds up, moving in and out with full, deep thrusts, her fingers digging even harder into him as he brings her to a final orgasm, her body contracting and milking him, causing him to shove deep into her as he allows himself to fill her up with his seed.

They remain locked together, tears slip from each of their faces and hold onto each other for dear life.

Too Tired

>sigh<

I don't even now where to start. I guess I'll start with talking about my friend. Someone I've known for about six years now. I love the man. Pure and simple. Not like, I want to run and away and marry him type thing, just, love him. He is going through a really hard time right now. He's bi-polar, and is on one of his down times. This has, in the past, gotten really bad. I have tried to reach out to him, telling him I am here if he needs me, practically begging him to let me in. He just polietly tells me no but thanks. I want to scream. Doesn't he know by now that talking always helps him feel better? Is it so hard for him to trust in my love for him? I hate this feeling it gives me. It just drives me crazy. I just want to take him into my arms and let him cry on my shoulder until his world is right again.

Work was crap. Boss showed up at my house, because my phone still isn't working, and asked my husband to wake me up see if I would come in early. I did. I ended up working 12 hours. In general, the day was shit, we were busy, not enough help. Totally miserable.

I miss my family. I want to hold my new baby neice in my arms so bad I ache from it. I don't know, maybe it's because everyone around me is having babies. I wish I could have had one more. One more pregnancy, one more son or daughter. I don't know, it's crazy, the doctor warned me not to get pregnant ever again, or I would end up diabetic. That's why I had my tubes tied. But damnit I wish, just, sometimes, that I could.

I was going to post about a scene, but, with all the depression hanging around me like a thick cloud. I decided I better not. Small post, but, I am honestly too tired for anything more.

Updating. . Again. ..

First of all. Sorry it's been so long since I last posted. Like has been kicking the shit out of me and damned if it didn't nearly win.

I read a blog the other day, in which the writer talked about maybe deleting the blog. It made me think about mine. I mean, what's the point of having this. I never write in it. Then I posted a response to her and came here to delete mine. I was even thinking of starting over. Then I read through the things I had already written and I realized that this was still important to me. I really needed this. Needed the outlet it provided for me. So, here I am, once more, to blog about my life.

Am I the only blogger that pours over tons and tons of other blogs? I read blogs about dominating relationships, I read blogs written by both the dom and the subs. I read blogs that some of our soldiers are writing. I read blogs about nothing.

This blog is supposed to be a place where I can put anything. No one knows me here. No one will come to my work and tell me I'm a pervert. No one will call my boss and tell him he has a sick twisted woman managing his store.

Don't see anything sick and twisted? Read on.

I recently shaved myself. Everywhere. Not even sure why, just, felt like it. This is not something I normally do, and well, probably won't again. See, as soon as the hair started to grow back in, I started to itch. It was driving me nuts. More then that though, I couldn't' walk anywhere without my over sensative pussy lips rubbing against each other and swelling up. This is all great if I can stay at home and fuck my husband like a rabid bunny. But nooooo, I have to work. I have to try to stand in front of my customers, feeling my wetness sliding down my legs, and smile like nothing is wrong. For four days, I used both of my ten minute breaks, and my lunch hour to run into the bathroom and bring myself to orgasm. Now mind you, these are very public bathrooms. Think that bothered me? No, it only turned me on more. Of course, each time I did this, it seemed to only make me need it more. I would run home from work and drop to my knees in front of my loving, if not suprised husband, and submissivly suck his cock until he filled my mouth with his sweet cum.

Life was great.

Then, as if to say "Okay Nikki, you've had enough happiness" shit started to hit the fan. I got pulled over for having outdated tags on my van. I knew they were outdated. They wouldn't let us renew them because I had my liscence suspended for not paying fines that stemmed from an accident that was not my fault. But, I had no insurance. Well, if I could have afforded the damn fines, I would have been able to afford insurance. So, anyway, they don't arrest me, but, tell me if they catch me driving again they will. I have to go to court, so I do. It's going to cost me roughly 550 dollars. I don't have that kind of money! The judge gave me 30 days to pay it and get myself legal again. Despair.

Then, out of no where. My guardian angels step in. People I've known online for years. The two of them get together and decide they are going to send me the money. One is a student in Australia, my best friend really, and I know she can't afford it. The other, a guy who is married, lives in the States, and, has flat out told me he loves me. His wife would be furious. But they are both stubborn and simply refuse to take anything but yes for an answer. I am so lucky.

Money is sent and recieved. Fines are paid off. Oh, they shut my phone off in the meantime because I couldn't pay the bill. Even though I called and made the arrangements. So I call and pay what I told them I would pay. 140 dollars. Yay, the phone is going to be turned back on. Not. They say "Oh, well, someone messed up and turned it off completely yesterday, you'll have to pay the remainder of the balance" I am furious. I could have used that 140 dollars somewhere else. I demand a supervisor. I explain how it isn't my fault someone else messed up. Then he tells me that the problem is they have an unpaid bill in my name from four years ago. I PAID THAT DAMN BILL! He calmly asks if I have the reciept. DO I HAVE THE RECIEPT FROM FOUR YEARS AGO!?! I MOVED HALFWAY ACROSS THE STATES. HELL NO! >sigh<>never<>not< notice it" So, women leaves, we go into the house. Daughter says she wanted to play at her friends. We inform her she is grounded for a week and has to do extra chores every day.

Think that's the end of this horror story? No. Husband tells me a social worker came by. Said they had a report that our children were going to school hungry, did not have proper shoes or coats and they are not being bathed regularly. WHAT THE FUCK? He invites her in. Shows her the kitchen where he is currently cooking dinner. Shows her all the food we have. Cupboards are full, fridge is cleaned out and fully stocked, not to mention our deep freezer. Then he takes her over and shows her the coat closet, counts out the jackets. My oldest boy alone has NINE, yes NINE jackets, ranging from everything from lightweight, to rain coat, to heavy winter jacket. Shows her snow boots, snow suit, the overflowing basket of shoes the kids have. She asks how often we give the kids baths. He tells her that "we" do not bathe our children. They are old enough to do so on their own. My oldest pops up with how he doesn't take baths. So my husband has to explain that no, they take showers, every other night. Woman leaves and tells husband I can call her if I want. Oh hell yes I want. So, Monday rolls around. I call, can't reach her. Tuesday rolls around, woman shows up. As I am speaking to her, my son's counseler shows up. She is livid and tells the woman so. Says out of all her families, we are the one that she has NO concerns whatsover about. She tells the woman how she never calls, just drops by to visit, and, our home is always clean. That our children are always well fed. The woman says that the complaint says that we are not feeding them before school. I point out that the school has a free breakfast program, so no we don't. The counseler tells her how I lobbied to get the children bussed to school, winning my battle, after they had refused the priniciple of the school. Tells her about how I went to the school and fought to get the teachers to do their jobs properly, resulting in the termination of one of their teachers. How I always put my kids first and she's seen it a thousand times. I could have kissed her. I may be some sick twisted bitch in the bedroom, but damnit, I put my kids first always. So, women goes to the school to talk to my daughter, then comes back to my house the next day. Of course, she is sorry for intruding on our lives, and yes, we understand every complaint has to be investigated, yes we look forward to her report, thank you for being so open with me, thanks for encouraging your daughter to be nothing but honest. I mean come on. Why would I tell her to lie to you lady? I just wanted to scream

So, this all brings us up to the present. For the most part anyway. There are some minor things in there driving me nuts, but yeah, welcome to my nightmare.

American Soldier

I was recently very touched by a blog I read that is kept by an american soldier. I can not post it here until I have his permission but will try to very soon. It did however, prompt me to write him an email, which I felt like posting here as well. This is what I wrote.


Dear American Soldier,


It is hard for me to put into words how I feel. But, regardless, I felt compelled to write you about your blog. I have enjoyed reading about how this all makes you feel. Your trials and tribulations, your emotions. It is always interesting to see other people's views, and who better to pay attention to then the men and women on the front lines.

I go to work every night (i'm a night manager at a truck stop, not a fab job, but it pays the bills) and everyday I come home while it is still dark out and let myself into my apartment where my three children and loving husband slumber in the darkness. It is cool in here, or warm, depending on the weather outside. I don't turn on the television. I can't stand all the depressing things they talk about. So instead, I move my mouse in the dark and silent living room and wait for my computer screen to light my way into sitting down and finding my keyboard. I go to the chat room I play in, speak to my best friend who lives and attends university in Australia, pretty soon I go to wake my children from their slumber so they can attend school. My daughter is in her first year at Junior high and she loves it. I pick up my youngest, who is four and I hold him close to me, breathing in his soft smell while he wraps his tiny arms around my neck. What a beautiful feeling that is. Then I check on my middle son, who is in the third grade, making sure he has everything he needs, that his work book is checked off by me and stop to kiss his cheek gently. Then I go back to my game online, which is really my choice of social interaction, while my older children set off for school and my youngest settles down to eat his breakfast. After a couple of hours of this, and answering the phone, taking care of whatever business I have to do for the day. I head into the room I share with my husband. Sometimes I simply lean against the door frame and watch him sleeping, the fan blowing on him so he can sleep better, before I go in and wake him up. Once I do, we lay there talking quietly about my night at work, I tell him my frustrations, the amusing stories, pretty much anything that is on my mind. It never takes long before my youngest realizes he has been left and toddles in to join us. My husband pretends once again to sleep so that his son will wake him up with kisses all over his cheeks and his declarations of "I LOVE YOU BESTEST DADDY!." When he finally does "wake up" again, they roll around on the bed, each on being tickled by the other until I join in to "save my son". When they get up, I remain in my bed, drifting off into my own peaceful slumber.By the time I wake up, my older children are home from school and are either working on homework, or chores. I get up and wander out to watch them unnoticed a moment, smiling softly at the serenity of my home. I kiss each of them as they rush to tell me "good morning" and one by one I ask them about their days. Then I go to my husband and repeat the process. Soon after, one of us heads in to make dinner, feed our children, and get their baths ready. After all is said and done, I tuck them in and go to get ready for work. My day begins again.

You are probably wondering why the rant to a man who is over in Iraq, fighting the war, seeing the horrible things you see. Let me tell you. I go through each phase of my day feeling safe and secure. Not terribly worried about whether my home with be bombed, or having to worry about whether I will be shot as I go to eat. I take each of these things for granted, and I am humbled by the words you write. I have never supported the war, but I have ALWAYS prayed and supported the men and women who went over there. From our country or another. Because it is your job, it is what you were asked to do and you stepped up to do it. I thank God for that, for I know I could not bring myself to do such a thing. I could not bear to have my husband do such a thing and so I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for having the courage, the drive, the love for all the unseen, unnamed, and unappreciative people you protect. I truly hope that you find your way home to your family safely. It is something I will pray for, as I will pray for your family to have the strength to be without you, so that so many can be safe from the horrors that are their lives.

A humbled civilian.



May each of us remembers, whether we agree with the war or not, that these men and women put their lives on the line everyday, and like us, they have husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters who will have to be without them. Never say that our troops do not deserve our support. They deserve it most.

Blah

Must be nearly that time of the month again. I'm feeling very blah, current situations not helping me alot.
I wish people would say what they mean and mean what they say. It would make life so much easier.

I miss my online family. I'm always working, or sleeping. If I can manage to get here, they are busy. Seems life moves on without me. Oh yes, this is not a suprise to me. Guess what suprises me is how easily it does move on without me. Would anyone miss me if I were not here? Would they be sad? Would they think of me? Then I have to ask myself. Does it matter? The things I do in this life. Where they important to anyone?

I hate this time of the month. My emotions are alway so close to the surface. I just want to cry now. For no reason really. I mean, so he had other things to do. He has his life, I have mine. As does she. Why is this eating away at me so much? Maybe it's because I get up and rush to the computer, eager to see them, talk to them, make them laugh, or comfort them if needed. I don't feel very needed lately. I'm sure that will pass as soon as my period does too. Maybe my mother was right, maybe I need people to much. Smother them.

I can see as I reread this that I am not making alot of sense, so I guess I'll go for now, maybe later my words will make more sense to me.

Maturing

Well, I tried really hard to write something great and juicy, I have a great scene to tell everyone about, but, something else has happened that I just can't get out of mind. So, I am going to blog about it and hopefully get it off my chest.

My daughter, who is eleven came to me the other day and asked me if she could speak privately to me. Of course I agreed and she says to me "I've been having pain here" as she lifts up her shirt. Now, let me make it clear, my daughter is very petite, yet, has always worn her shirts way to big for her. Imagine my surprise to see that her breasts have begun to grow. I nearly fell off of my chair.

So, what is the big deal you might ask? Well, she is the oldest of my kids, and she is the only girl. My baby girl. Who, is obviously no longer a baby. It struck me just how grown up she has become. I knew that she had a "boyfriend" but, it was the kind that starts because he writes a note and says to check the box yes or no, does she like him sort of thing. It is so hard for me to accept that she is growing so fast.

I was eleven when I had sex for the first time. That fact scares the crap out of me. I mean, we keep a much tighter reign on her then my parents did me. I also feel closer to her then I did to my mom at that age. But, maybe it is just me, maybe I just >want< to believe I'm close enough for her to come to about sex. We have had the conversations about it, she knows what it is, how it happens and all that. She also knows my views, as well as my husbands about waiting for the right person. But, will that be enough to help her make good choices.

I am scared to death she will make the same mistakes I did. I was pregnant with twins at fourteen. I miscarried them on my fifteenth birthday. It was horrible. Even at such a young age. I wanted to be a mother. I know now that it is for the best. I still don't want her to have to go through that experience. The father, was the first man I ever loved. When he found out I was pregnant, not only did he leave town, he left the entire state. Afraid, according to him, of what my family would do to him. I think he just didn't want the responsibility of kids. The rejection and loss. I know I can't keep her protected forever, but, it is my instict to do what I can.

Guess I'm gonna have to go out and buy her a training bra and hope for the best.

A Night To Remember

She moves into the room, tired from working, tired of all the men who stare at her like she is a piece of meat. Treating her like common garbage. It takes her a moment to realize that the house is unusually quiet and she glances around. That's when she spots him, coming down from the hallway. He looks unhappy, she wonders where the children are, but before she can ask, he speaks up " Your behavior the last couple of days is not acceptable, in the corner, now" She opens her mouth to protest, though the words die on her lips as he is in the light and she can no see how serious he looks.

She moves over to the corner, wondering which part of the last few days she is being punished for. She feels his hand on the back of her head, pushing her face into the corner " Don't move, do you understand me?" "Yes Master" comes the soft reply. With a suddenness that suprises her, he yanks down her pants and gives her a hard swat on the bottom, causing her to jump slightly and whimper a bit, she's never had him do this before and she can't help but feel a tiny thrill rush through her, his words are gruff as he speaks "I told you I didn't like that name, think of another" "Yes Daddy" comes the timid reply, her body tensing as she waits to see if this will satisfy him or not. It must because she can hear the soft padding of his feet as he moves off.

"Don't" comes the one word response as she reaches down to pull her pants back up. She can't help but notices how wet she is becoming. How deliciously humiliating to have to stand in the corner with her bare ass sticking out for him to look at if he wants, or to spank. A million things swirl through her mind as she stands there wondering what comes next. Will he spank her again? Will he leave her there for a long time? The need to know is unbearable and her thoughts drift off to other things. Will she get the chance to show him she is sorry? Will he believe her? Will she get the chance to be his good girl once again, get the honor of slowly and gently sucking on his cock as he grips her hair and fucks her mouth? Will he allow her to wrap her legs around him and squeeze him inside her body, milking him, pleasing him. A soft whimper escapes her as she thinks about it.

He takes her by the hair and leads her over to another corner, there is a chair there. It is ugly, but, it has no arms on it, she shivers as she notes the things sitting next to the chair, a brush, a wooden spoon, her collar with his nametag on it, his words interrupts her thoughts. "Show me your body slut" Her hands fumble to get her shirt off and she drops it to the floor, a hard smack on her bottom brings her face up to look at him, he looks stern but the lust can be seen there too " Fold your shirt, I don't want any messes, understood?" She nods and again he smacks her ass. " Don't you nod at me, you will answer me out loud, do you understand?" "Yes" comes the reply " Yes what?" he says and she chokes back a sigh, knowing she screwed up "Yes Daddy" she murmurs, and her heart jumps a bit at his smile, she's managed to make him happy.

"Do you know why your being punished?" she begins to shake her head but stops, remembering his words "No Daddy" He scowls and her heart sinks, she knows that she should know the answer, but she doesn't, she's been a brat the last couple of days and she isn't sure which part has prompted this, she watches as his hand reaches down and picks up the collar and holds it out to her, she puts it on obediently. She feels her wetness making her lips slippery, causing them to rub against each other as she kneels in front of him as he points. "You allowed yourself to orgasm without my permission, that is not acceptable" She opens her mouth to explain, but is cut off when he grabs an arm and pulls her over his lap. " Chose your punishment"

She reaches out and slowly picks up the hairbrush. She shivers as she hands it to him and he bends her further over his lap, using the back of the brush to rub her upturned ass. She enjoys the coolness of it on her body, she closes her eyes. WACK! One, two, three smacks. Her body jerks, but she doesn't put her ass down, she holds her position for him, groaning softly as her pussy begins to throb, the heat from her spanking transferring to a sexual desire. She can see his cock beginning to grow in his pants and she tries to reach for him. He jerks on the leash and snarls at her " No slut, I say when you get it, do you understand" " Yes Daddy" comes the muffled reply. Four, Five, Six more swats, her ass dancing in the air, the carefully placed aims creating a delicious pattern on her ass. " You like it don't you whore? You like having your naughty little ass spanked don't you?" Her refusal to answer earns her swats number Seven, Eight, and Nine and somehow, despite the fact that her brain is swirling with colors she manages to mutter " Yes Daddy" He smiles as he runs his fingers over the burning skin, soothing it with just his touch, his fingers sliding between her legs to dip into her wetness, stroking her, her body trembles and he laughs softly. "Oh yes, I knew you'd like this" Swats number Ten, Eleven, and Twelve remind her that this is a punishment, practically dancing around on her knees, though it is hard to tell if it is due to trying to get more, or get away.

The unzipping of his pants fills her with gratitude, now she can show him how sorry she is, she can make him happy once more. His beautiful cock springs free, a drop of precum dripping from it and he takes a handful of her hair into his hand and pushes her face down and rubs his cock over her face, his other hand reaching down to pinch her nipples. Her mouth opens up out of instinct, out of desire and he laughs again and takes his cock, using it to slap her in the face. " You truly are my little cocksocker aren't you? You love licking and sucking on my cock like a paid whore don't you?" She nods and he slaps her ass again, reminding her to answer with words. " Yes Daddy, I love your cock" He shoves it into her mouth, nearly gagging her on it, but she adjusts quickly and begins to devour it, sucking, licking, stroking it with her tongue, He begins to spank her again, her red hot ass dancing in delight, even though she can barely feel the pain through her pleasure. She feels him twitch soon after and she prepares to swallow his cum, though it doesn't appear, instead, he pulls out of her mouth and cockslaps her face again with one hand while dipping his fingers into her throbbing cunt. "I am going to fuck you now and your not allowed to cum until I say so" She whimpers but turns so that her upturned and beat red ass is pointed up at him, she feels his strong hands gripping her hips as he drops to his knees behind her, his cock sliding up and down over her sore ass, soothing it, exciting her "Tell me how you want it slut" comes his guttural growl. " Please. . I want your cock inside me Daddy, fill me up with it, stick it in me and claim me as yours" He shoves deep and hard, pushing deep inside her with one stroke. One hand remains on her hip as the other travels slowly up her backside to tangle into her hair, he pulls back hard, forcing her to look at him, the lust in her eyes meeting the lust in his and she reaches down to touch herself. He jerks even harder on her, nearly pulling her upright "Did I say you could touch my toy? You are here for my pleasure, not yours, do you understand me whore? " "Do you ?" he says as he reaches out to twist one of her nipples and she nods, realizing her mistake he shoves her down before she can correct it and begins to paddle her ass with his hand, stroke after stroke " Say your sorry slut, tell me each time I shove my dick into you that your sorry for coming without permission" his hand raising and coming down on her ass, she shoves hard against him, whimpering in delight, murmuring the words he has instructed, adding a few " yes daddy's" in there for good measure, her head swirling with the intensity of the pleasure. His hand continues to spank her, soft but firm at first, then, increasing with intensity, she feels him begging to surge, shoving deep into her, one hand twisting and pulling her nipples, the other hand continuing to crack down on her ass, the sound reverberating throughout the room. A final plunge into her and she feels him spewing his hot cum inside her and she can't hold back anymore, her body thrashing about as her orgasm rips through her, nearly sobbing she collapses on the bed.

He reaches out to take her into his arms, holding her silently, stroking her burning ass and caressing her hair, he begins to tell her how much she pleased him, how well she took her punishment, how excited it made him to see her submitting to him finally, he speaks the words of love that she needs to hear, as well as the reassurance that life is only going to get better for her. After a few moments, her happy tears subside and she curls tightly around him with a soft sigh, her body, her mind, her emotions all having been drained, a thrill of anticipation washes through her again as she hears his soft laughter and he speaks quietly into the darkness "You didn't ask to cum tonight"

Another Day

Wow, it's amazing how good I feel right now. I got home from work, picked up the husband, returned our movies, rented some more, went to Checkers for some food, came home and I took a long bath. It was hot and relaxing. I even took time out to shave, which, I hate to do by the way. Once done with that, I put on my new pajamas and just, melted into them, it's a delicious feeling.
Work was hell. I ran 416 people through my register, not to mention all the managerial duties I did. I was so mad when the third shift people came in complaining about how they need someone else on their shift because they are so busy. I did nearly twice as many transactions as he did, what the hell is he talking about? I really need to talk to the boss and ask about a raise. I think I should tell him I was offered another position. What if he shrugs and tells me he wishes me luck? I am so paranoid that I'm not as important as I think I am and he'll just say okay and let me quit. I would be so screwed. Someday I'll just put my foot down. I just got my one year pin and yet, have only been raised 50 fricking cents. He promised me when I started that I'd be raised at least a dollar by the end of three months. Doesn't he realize I'm the only one working to support a house of five?
Apperantly my youngest son, who is four, decided to flush his big brother's hulk sock down the toilet. Came out very proud of himself. Turns out he was mad because big brother took of his socks and wouldn't be the hulk anymore. Daddy threatened to give big brother HIS socks and he promised to go and get the sock. Dad explained to him that it is in the sewer now, he didn't care, he'd fight the monsters, and snakes and rats, as long as dad didn't give big brother his spiderman socks. Glad I wasn't here for that, I got to see the funny side of it.
Well, I guess I should go. They are going to inspect the apartments in the next couple of days and I have to make sure everything passes. Trust me, not my favorite job.

Nikki

Training

I started training a girl at work today. I had been dreading work all day because of this. Not because I'm not damn good at my job, but because I am >too< good at my job. I don't have the paitence to train people. I expect too much out of them. I don't want to have to baby people. I want to tell them once how to do something, and have them catch on. I don't want to have to explain something simple to them while I have a huge line forming.
How little did I know that it was my lucky day. This girl was quick and fun to hang out with. She did so well that I ended up splitting my drawer with her and letting her do most of it on her own. I showed her once the proper way to take a check, that was all that was needed. She took the rest of the checks without a problem, when I checked them, she had all the needed information on them. At the end of the night, we balanced out our drawer and we ended up being only fifty six cents over. Which, by our standards, is damn good. Not only that, but we managed to run nearly three hundred and fifty people between the two of us. Now, that isn't a whole lot, considering I can do four hundred and sixteen on my own, but, it was pretty good for her first day. She even managed to catch a shoplifter.
The worst part of the night was about ten minutes before I left. I went over to the deli to get it all ready for the next shift and some asshole was complaining about how weak the coffee looked. Not in the mood to put up with his shit, I went and drained the coffee, using a small piece of garden hose. Then I started a new pot with a little extra grounds in it, and went back up to help customers. Then a customer comes over and tells me that the coffee pot is overflowing. No big deal since it happens all the time, if it is not COMPLETELY empty, it overflows. So, again, I start to hook up the hose so I could drain enough to stop it from leaking and this asshole reaches over just as I am about to connect it and says " Let me help you" just before he flips the spout and coffee starts flowing out, all over my damn hand. It hurt like hell. I jerk my hand back and he starts laughing and walks away. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. I am a woman who has given birth to three kids with no drugs. One of them weighing in at one ounce shy of ten pounds and the little buger was only an inch shy of two feet. I can take pain. So, now I have a nice big burn on my hand and wrist. Should make work interesting tomorrow.
Well, I think that's about all I have to rant about for now. Too tired to do much else. Hubby and kids cleaned house today. Even moved the stove to clean, and cleaned out the fridge. I love inspection time.

Nikki

Motherhood

I would have to say the single most life altering moment in my life, was when my oldest child was born. She was so beautiful. Raven black hair and blue eyes. I actually assumed her eyes would change since mine are brown, but they didn't and within a year, she was as blonde as blonde could be.
She was such a good baby too. She hardly ever fussed. Was sleeping through the night at only a few weeks old. Little did I know that my peaceful world would turn upside within a few years. Hehe.
Now she is eleven and she is so much my daughter it scares me. I look at her and I see myself. I simply pray she does not make my mistakes.
I see a little girl who is full of love, and a desire to please, only, she wants to please those that make her insecure about their friendships, or their love. Like her dad, or her friends. She knows my husband and I love her. She doesn't have to >do< anything to be loved or liked by us. It just simply is. I see a little girl who is too anxious to be a grown up. Ready for her period. Ready for a boyfriend. I found a note she wrote to a boy where she said she loved him and he wrote back saying he loved her too. There was also a poster which one of her friends wrote on the back of, I'm not sure if it was a game or what, but, I would hope so, some of it left me disturbed. I will write more on this later.
Already though, she has passed over some of my mistakes. (knock on wood). I was no longer a virgin by the time I was her age. Yes, at the tender age of barely eleven I was "deflowered". Not that I had allot of choice in the matter, nor was I a stranger to forced sexual acts. My grandfather sexually molested me when I was only eight years old (thank god my daughter didn't have to go through that) and when I was nine or so, my older brother sodomized me in front of a couple of his friends. They didn't care that it hurt, or that I was crying for them to stop. This brother was only three years older then me and all these boys were in his class at school. To this day I wonder "What was he thinking about in those moments?" anyway, another horror she will never have to survive.
I may not always feel like the best mom, sometimes even paranoid and over protective, but, at least I know I am doing everything I can to keep my kids safe. She is growing up though, faster then I could have ever imagined. I'm so afraid of her growing up and us losing our connection. Even now, we don't talk as much as we used to. When I question her about things, she gets defensive. I want to transition into a place where she can confide things to me, come to me with questions, no matter what they are about.
I have been very candid about sex with her. When we caught her exploring her body, I sat down with her and talked about masturbation. I was gentle and loving. I never made her feel bad ( at least I did my very best not to) I simply told her that it is something we only do in private. That we do not do it where others might walk in and see us, but, that it was nothing to be ashamed of.
Well, now my stress factor has skyrocket through the roof, guess I'm gonna go before this turns into something other then a "motherhood" topic.
Nikki

New to this

This is going to be interesting. I have journaled alot in my life and never have I done it where other people can read it. I don't know how well it will work out but I am going to try. I guess I'll simply start with a brief bit about who I am. I am 28 years old, happily married to a wonderful man, I have three wonderful, though, energetic children who range in age from four to eleven. One girl and two boys. I work outside of the home and I am great at my job, though sometimes I hate it more then anything in the world. I have three brothers and one sister who is no longer with us. I have four nieces and nine nephews. One more on the way though I am not sure if it will be a boy or girl.
I don't speak to my family much, for reasons of my own which I am sure will come out sooner or later. I do however have a second family here online. A wonderful group of people I have known for about five to six years now. They are my family, the ones I cry to when I'm sad, the ones I laugh with when I'm happy, the ones I turn to when I need help getting through something. They are my family, more so then most of my real family, with the exception of my brother J.
Well, I think this is about all for now, I know it's pretty boring, but, still trying to get comfortable with the thought that anyone can read these entries. Guess we'll see how it goes.

Nikki