A whole week?

I really should not ever go a full week without blogging. Blogging helps me to see things in a much better perspective.

The last almost week has been very busy and I've not had alot of time to dwell on issues.

Our youngest boy has had some difficulty adjusting to kindergarten this year and we are working hard at assisting him in this transition.

I was frustrated and a bit angry at the school as we made contact with them on several occasions to try and arrange a meeting.

Several times this week he was sent home with what they call skills, these are little notes that tell the parent when a child is sent to the "skills" room, which is basically a time out room.

I have no problem with the system, with the fact that he was put into time out, or the fact that he was given a "skills" to bring home.

My issue came when, in talking to our son, he indicated that before each of his offenses, he went to a teacher to help him solve an issue with another of his friends and the teacher pretty much blew him off, they say they "encourage" the children to work things out for themselves.

Now, mind you, I'm not talking about another student verbally mocking or insulting my son, one such incident involved another student kicking my son. He went to the teacher and she told im to use his "I words" which translates into "I don't like that". He did that, and still the child continued to kick him. So, my son spit on him.

In no way do I condone spitting on another person. Ever. It is nasty and disgusting, and he was punished for it, not only at school by being sent to the skills room, but, as well as at home. I simply will not tolerate disrespect from my children, not even aimed at another child.

So, the problem came when I tried to explain that my son is feeling as if he has to take things into his own hands because he is not being assisted by a teacher. I didn't expect the teacher to run over and punish the other child. She could however, have went over and stood there while my son used his "I words" to ensure that the other child was using his listning ears. Or, better yet, she could have stepped in and explained to the other child that we do not physically hurt our friends.

In trying to explain this, the teacher involved became very defensive. I tried again to explian that our son does have social issues, this is his first year around a group of children, that we in no way doubt that what she says he did, he actually did. Nor do we think that what he did was right. Nor will he go without punishment.

Even that didn't seem to satisfy her. She was still convinced that we were trying to get our son off the hook. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. I refuse to allow my children to dump ownership of their actions onto someone else. I don't care what another child does, he does NOT deserve to be spit on. No child should have to go to school afraid that someone else is going to hit them, or hurt them, or call them names, and I refuse to allow my children to become the bully.

I guess the problem comes because so many parents are more concerned with their own image. If their child does bad things, it makes them look bad right? Well, most parents can't handle that, me, I can handle that I'm not perfect, but the school is so used to defending themselves I guess that they can't accept it when I say "I know he did wrong, but, there were other factors and we need to correct this, not just him, but the other factors as well"

By other factors, I mean that when he went to a teacher, she should have stepped in. I think it sends a bad message to a five year old when he goes to a teacher, she refuses to help, and then he is punished by the same teacher only a moment later for what, in his mind, is defending himself. Again, his reaction was wrong, but, there is bound to be a reaction when someone is kickinig you. Also, my son is bored. Horribly. Acadmically he is about two grades higher then his peers. He reads, he writes, he does math, knows colors, shapes and sizes. The teacher I understand has other children to teach these things too, but, he is bored. Idle hands make for trouble.

>sighs<

So, meeting too place. I think we understand each other now. They are going to test his iq and reading and math to see if he should spend some time with the 1st graders so that he can be challenged academically. We do not think our son is perfect, and he will be punished for the things he does at school and they will call us if there is an issue that can't be worked out. They will take the time to listen to his words and help him find better solutions to problems.

On a better note, my oldest son is doing fabulous in school and despite a disability, has nearly caught up with his peers. We are so proud of him.

Chris has been invited to join a frat and I just can't help but giggle at the thought. Frat parties would never be the same once he attented.

Well, I will try to post more tomarrow for now I am heading to bed.

Accountability

I wanted to let you all know that I am feeling better. Still not great, but I am working on it. This post is going to jump alot because I have so much stuff swirling in my head that I need to get out before it drives me over the edge totally. If I ramble so much that something is not clear, just leave me a message or email me about it and I will try to clear it up later.

Last night one of my dearest friends and I had a long chat about motherhood and insecurities.

I realized that I was letting my fear of being a bad mother; keep me from enjoying myself as a good mother.

I have been letting all the crap from my past weigh me down, worrying about if I am a good mother or not, concerned with all that I am not doing, that it has made me shy away from my kids at a point when they really needed me to come closer to them.

That is what I am going to try to do. I am going to try to come closer to my kids instead of shying away. It will not be easy, as most of you already know, I tend to shy away when I go through the depressive state. Maybe that is normal, maybe not, but, this is a new of looking at things and I'm going to try it

I have spent alot of time reflecting on myself the past couple of weeks. I tend to do this whenever I get depressed but this time, I had alot of support from people I have known for a very long time, as well as some people I have met through my blog. I will not mention names, for they know who they are.

When I get depressed, I tend to think that the world is against me. Even the lady at the gas station is against me and it makes me almost impossible to death with. I am snappy and bitter and I tend to take everything said to me the wrong way. This has alienated a lot of good people in my life. I am so lucky to have a few friends who can see this pattern and get past it. To curb this, I normally shut down and lock everything inside of myself until I can't contain it anymore.

It erupts and heaven help the person who is in my path at that time. It is like a white hot fury that just spills out of me and man can I be hateful and nasty. I have struck Chris with my hands, I have destroyed things in our home, I have seen my children cry with fear.

Yes folks, I have issues. Serious ones. It would be easy for me to blame my mother, she is the one who lied to me and locked me away, she is the one who stood there and called me a liar because she couldn't face the facts of what her father had done. I could blame the system that I was placed into because it failed me, and man did it ever fail me, I could blame alot of people but that would all be a bunch of crap.

I recently spoke with my mother because my younger brother appeared at her home at 2am and dragged my father out of his bed by ranting and raving. What was he freaking out about? Well you see, the oldest brother in our family is a pervert, the one I won't let my children be alone with, and, well, he offered my younger brother three dollars to suck him off. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO! The younger brother said no and even by his own admission, that was the end of it. Now, I understand, that might have hurt him emotionally, but, to go over to my parents, walk in, and in a drunken rage, start spouting garbage about how they didn't protect him, how they should have know, yadda yadda yadda, at my dad (who, you might remember has a heart condition and is diabetic, oh, did I mention an insomniac who only sleeps about 4.5 hours a night) out of bed was just utterly infuriating.

So, anyway, I've digressed. You see, my mother called me to tell me this. I already knew because the older brother had also called (younger left my parents and showed up there banging in the door and screaming about how he would get a gun and kill him). So, I listened to my mother cry about what a crappy parent she was, how she wrecked all our lives, how her children hate her.

I really struggled through this portion of the conversation because I do believe my mother sucked at being a parent. I do think that the choices she made has left scars on us that will never go away no matter how hard we try.

I do not however, see my mother as responsible for my actions. I am a grown adult. Like her, I am capable of making my own decisions. I can choose to drink and use drugs and make life hell for my family, or I can choose to face my problems head on and deal with them. I don't need a weekly session with anyone, I don't need to take thirty thousand medications (one works just fine thank you very much) I don't need to blame others for my issues.

Like me my brother has chosen to get married and have a family. He has 4 children, the oldes of which is only recently turned 6. He has no job, and hasn't for about 4 years. His wife works her ass off to support them, but, he blows it just as quickly as she gets it. They have not paid my parents a dime in rent since they moved into the trailer next to my parents. The electric was shut off a few months back because they didn't pay the bill, and, if any of you reading this live in Idaho, you know how stupid this is, for the rest of you, Chris and I were paying 50 dollars a month during the hottest months when we ran our swamp cooler day and night. The bill reached 500 dollars and they cut it off. So, instead of paying it (his wife makes roughly 17 dollars an hour) they waited two months and she went down and had it put in her maiden name. The electric company then assumed that the old tenants moved out without leaving a forwarding address and have attached this 500 dollars to my parents bill. My brother and his wife both have made it very clear that they are not going to pay them a penny for it.

Now, I know that my parents sucked, but, as we have become adults, they do try to make things better. Besides, there is a fundamental difference between what happened to him and what happened to me. Let me see if I can make a clear graph of it.

HIM
1. Asked for sex
2. Death of sister
3. Placed in foster care for 6month
4. Blamed for nothing
5. Would never lie

ME
1. Raped
2. Death of sister, witness
3. In and out of places for 8years
4. Blamed for everything
5. Always lied

Now, as little as this list looks, these are some major differences in my opinion. He was ASKED for sex. Man, I'm a married woman, I get ASKED for sex all the time. I was raped and molested. Not just by my grandfather, but, my one brother, my foster parents, a group of boys in Denver, not to mention my ex husband on a semi regular basis.

Now, trust me, I am well aware of how the violent death of a sibling can impact you, but, imagine being a child waking up one day to find out that your oldest sister was dead. The man she loved killed her. Why?! I don't understand. Or, like me, you could find out that after beating her severely for several years, he finaly did the worst thing imaginable. Knowing that maybe, just maybe I could have done something because unlike the youngest sibling, I KNEW he was abusing her. I SAW him abusing her.

My younger brother could do no wrong. Ever. He was not punished as a child. I was horribly punished for things that the boys did because together they would blame me and of course two voices were better then one. Even now, instead of holding my brother responsible for his garbage, my mother is making exscuses for him. It's her fault, it's my fault, yes people, I did say it was my fault. How can that be you ask? Well so did I and the answer astonished me. Seems it is my fault that my brother is drinking himself stupid (I married an alchoholic in his formative years and took him in to live with me rather then allow him to go to Foster care) Why does he do crystal meth? Well, of course it is because I am a recovering coke addict. Why is he addicted to antipsychotic pills that were prescribed to his friend? Well, damn, don't you know, it's my fault because I was addicted to pain killers. Why is it he hasn't had a job in nearly four years? Why it was because Chris quit his job 6 weeks before we moved from Idaho. WAIT! Why did he quit school (both times) because >I< quit school (never mind that *I* did go back and get my GED on my own while he had to be nagged on every single day for months) Damn, I hadn't realized it, I have no idea how she can blame herself, everything is so obviously my fault.

He also is the epitomy of honesty. He would never cheat on his wife, go back to drugs, steal from her. No no, when he says he's clean it's the truth, he's not like me. How can I make up such things about him. How can I make up such horrible things about what was done to me as a child? Oh yeah, I remember her reason now, I had an overactive imagination. The bruises you say? Where did they come from? Oh, well, you know, I was a very delicate child, due to a blood disorder, the one that went away after I left home, I bruised at the slightest touch.

>stares<

Damn, no wonder I am so messed up. Hmm, blaming, yes, I blame them for what happened to me THEN. For not protecting me when it was there job, but guess what, now it is MY job to protect me. If I choose to surround myself with people who help me with that or not is up to me, but, in the end, it is up to me to protect myself. It is up to me to answer for the things that I do. To hold myself accountable. That is one of the reasons I write this. So that I can put down the things I do so that I can hold myself accountable for them. So I can go back and reflect and try to figure out where I went wrong so that I can avoid that from happening agian.

Damn, the world needs more people willing to be accountable. I wonder if it will ever really happen.

Don't give up on me.

I am still here. I am still struggling.

Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts and prayers.

It isn't just the money though. I wanted to make that clear. Matter of fact, the money is only a means to an end.

I have been poor my whole life. It is how I was born and raised, and I have done alot better for my children that was done for me.

I remember a time when we had to eat our goverment cereal with water because we couldn't afford milk. My children have never had to do that. We might not eat steaks and caviar every night, well, never caviar, yuck, but, the point is our children are well fed and it will always be that way.

You see, I'm so tired of fighting. I have had to fight all my life for things that should be basic things for most people. Food, respect, love, and safety. Now I have to fight to give those things to my children.

I do not want them to grow up telling stories about how poor we were. I want them to remember their childhood as a happy time. A time where they were loved, protected, and provided for.

Love, protection, that I can provide. For the rest of it, money is what it takes. It sucks, but, that is the bottom line of it.

If we don't have money to get the van fixed, I have no way to get to work, I lose my job, and Chris can't make it to school.

Thankfully his family has stepped up to help us out. As painful as the story is, the van is being worked on and with a little bit of luck and the touch of an angel's wing, it will run properly, or, more to the point, stop properly. They have been picking up Chris and taking him to school because his dad went on a terrible rant saying that there was no way in hell that he was going to let Chris drop his classes after all that we've done to get him where he is.

Even though things are looking up, the darkness lingers. It is part of my bi-polar and it is something that I have to struggle with for the rest of my life. I have no sex drive, hell, I don't have the drive for anything right now.

I have turned to those who have supported me in hopes of finding my way out of this. I hate this feeling. I hate the suffocation. I want to laugh again, I want to smile and stop being so paranoid.

Tonight at work, I almost walked out because my nerves were so shot, my hands were shaking and my heart was thumping in my chest. I talked to my supervisor and I told him I needed some extra breaks for the night and he told me to do what I needed to do. I went into the bathroom and cried for a long time.

Please don't give up on me. I know I've not be consistant in my posting, and what I have posted has been depressing and probably not a lot of fun to read, but, honestly, I am trying as hard as I can to get back to a better place.

Again, I want to say thank you to those who have supported me. You know who you are and my heart constricts when I think of how lucky I am to have such wonderful people in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Stench of Sorrow

No matter how hard we try, nothing seems to go right.

We recently had to borrow money from a dear friend of ours just so that we could cover bills. We had sat down and worked out plan to help us get back on track, having had one bad thing after another happen. We are totally tapped out, but things were looking up.

We had planned out taking our van in at the end of the next week to have the brakes looked out. They were recently replaced by a family member. Remind me to never fucking do that again.

I skated home on a wing and prayer tonight. Meaning, the brakes on one side went out completely. With my heart in my throat the entire way, my hands gripping the steering wheel and driving 15mph in a 45 zone I made it home.

We have no money. No way to get any more without asking another friend of ours for help. I don't want to do this because I know he will help. I am so sick of having to borrow money. I'm sick of not being able to do the mundane crap that everyone else does.

My 30th birthday was on the 6th. The 9th, was our Anniversary, and today is Chris' birthday. He doesn't even get to sleep in because we have to find a way to get me to work, not to mention how we will fix the van.

It's a never ending sucking darkness. It's been lapping at my feet for several weeks now and I'm getting too tired to fight it anymore.

I don't give a fuck. I work my ass off and we still are barely scraping by. I've worked as much overtime as I could and still, it does me no good.

I have not seen my daughter in four days because of our schedules, I see my boys only about 20 minutes a day. Oh, well, except today, when I had the pleasure of dragging my baby out of school to take him down and have his arm stabbed with sharp needles so the school would get off my back about his fucking booster shots.

It's like a suffocating darkness. It sucks you in, overwhelms you, makes you completely helpless.

I know that I'm over reacting. I know my bi-polar is kicking in. I can feel myself hovering on the edge.

I feel like the whole damn world is against me. I don't feel like I have anyone to turn to. I can't complain to Chris because he lives this shit too. I hate dragging bad shit back up when I know that none of us can do a fucking thing to stop it, or make it better.

My hands are shaking even now. I fight back the tears. My skin is tingling. I feel a crushing weight bearing down on my chest. I am afraid. Afraid I am going to fail in my role in this family. I am supposed to provide for my children, for my husband. I am not doing that.

I can't even desribe properly how it feels. As close as I can get to is, is to compare it to tar. It slowly sucks you in. You know it's going to happen. You are stuck, you can't do anything to get out. The smell of sorrow begins to overwhelm you as it begins to close over your head, filling your nose, your mouth, covering you in the fifth of depression.

I hate this fucking illness. I hate myself. I hate what I do to my family and my friends. I hate the failure I've become. I've even managed to let down the few friends I have.

There is no end in sight, why fucking bother. I feel like my children would be better of without me. I know what it was like for me growing up with a mom who was crazy. I do not want that for my children.

If Chris did half the things to me that I've done to him, I would have left him. Yet, he has always put up with me.

I hate myself.

Charlie

I had fully intended that the next post was going to finish up the "Nikki and Chris' first Valentine"

However, life has a funny way of throwing you a curve ball when you least expect it.

One week ago today was my beautiful sister's birthday, I have tried hard not to focus on this and stay positive, knowing it is what she would want.

Let me tell you about someone else in my family. Charles Byron Shilling. Charlie is what we called him.

I remember my cousin Charlie fondly. He was a great big guy, at least to me, which wasn't hard since he was 10 years older then I was.

Always a great deal of fun, but, too much fun can bring trouble knocking on your door.

His home life was not stable. His parents were constantly fighting, his dad an alchoholic. It was his job to look after his two younger sisters as he was the oldest of the three.

He took this job very seriously and it wasn't long before it began to extend to the rest of us. When my sister was killed, leaving me as the only girl in my family, it was as if suddenly all the male cousins and upgraded themselves into being my brothers.

Charlie seemed to be there more, perhaps only because we often found ourselves at the same parties. The differance was, he was old enough to drink and do what he wanted and I was not. I did them anyway.

He made damn sure that I was always looked after during these parties. I heard stories whispered about girls who were taken advantage of, but never me, and I knew that it was because people were terrified of Charlie, and Nick, and David, and Angel, and the rest of my older cousins who were well known as scrappers.

Not only were they serious scrappers, often striking out in anger rather quickly, but, they also had each other's backs. Everyone knew that *IF* they managed to beat one of us down, they would eventually get it anyway, that's just the way that it was. We didn't go out looking for trouble and we never threw the first punch, that was the rule by then, we didn't hit first, however, my family had suffered enough and while unspoken, we knew that none of us would ever allow anyone to get away with hitting us again. My sister taught us all that lesson.

So, tonight I say goodbye to Charlie, who was my friend, my cousin, my protecter. Here is his story, and my little tribute to him.


Charlie's Story


MY TRIBUTE TO CHARLIE

You took my hand and walked me through
The hardest years of my life
You had the words
You made the sacrifice

You made me laugh
Now I will cry
My heart is broken
I must say goodbye

Time will heal the wounds
That is what they say
All I can do is kneel and pray

Dear Lord,
Please watch over my cousin Charlie. I know he's done some bad things in life, but as your earthly children, none of us are perfect. Yes I know, he neglected many of things he should have paid attention to and gave more attention to things he shouldn't, but I pray that you open up your arms and welcome him home. Reunite him with those he's stood beside me and mourned, they will teach him the way now. Thank you for giving us this time with him, short as it may seem to us and please forgive me if I selfishly weep for my loss, even when those above rejoice to see him once more. Finally Lord, give him the love he has always felt lacking, heal the wounds of his soul. Make him whole again. He will forever stand above and watch us, another guardian angel in our lives. Seeing his daughter's grow. These are things that I pray for now, for a man who gave so much. Please Dear Lord, let him in.


Dear Charlie,
Too many years have passed, but please know that you have never been far from my thoughts. Our lives had no choice but to go seperate ways, but I have always and always will love you. I will not be able to see you laid to rest, you know we can't afford it, but my heart will be there and I will kneel and pray during that time. You were always loved, I wish that you could have seen it. I wish you could have seen how much you were worth to those in your life. I wish that you could have let go of the drugs, the alchohol, the resentment, the anger and hurt. As much as I wished for those things when you were alive, I know that they are now simply a given. Please give my love to Melody, and Grandma and Grandpa, and Aunt Pearl and Uncle Jack. I will do my best to watch your daughter's from afar, being here if there is anything I can do for them. Somehow though, I know that with all that they have above us, I will probably not be needed. Look down and smile, even at our tears, for you were so loved, and always will be. Forever loving you. Nikki.

I'm Sorry

I had left on my anonymous comments on because I know some very good people who sign their name at the bottom but according to blogger are "Anonymous"

I did this because not only am I getting hateful comments, but I am getting spammed like crazy. If someone wants to leave me nasty comments, he/she is just going to have to suck it up and give themselves a name.

For those of you who normally post under Anonymous and are actually saying something useful, I apologize, I just refuse to go through what I went through before over this. Please understand, if you'd like, you can always email me at Nikki.Valentine@gmail.com.

Just a quick note to let you know I did have all four teeth pulled out and I'm still very sore and just now starting to get around. Thanks to everyone for their prayers and well wishes.

A Jumble

Well, so much has been going on I don't know where to start. I have so many thoughts and emotions right now that I am struggling to put them all down to words.

I have been given such amazing support. The love and friendship I have been shown recently is beyond words. You see, growing up, I had alot of "friends", but, only because I was related to some of the biggest drug dealers in our town. I never paid for drugs, ever. I was so hungry for friendship that I didn't realize that I was simply being used until after I had given up drugs and watched my "friends" drop off like flies, save one.

This however is differant. Those here who have shown me friendship, love and support, gain nothing from me in return, except the return of love, friendship and support. I don't have to provide them anything in way of materialistic things. Simply my words, my love, support and friendship are enough for them. For me, this is a phenomenon. My heart feels near bursting with emotion over it.

The asswipe that left the nasty comment does not even deserve mention. I will however state that I agree with most of you, he/she is a sad pathetic soul and should seek some serious mental issues.

I had a hard time with what was said because as most abuse victims, I have felt that sense of blaming. Did I say something? Do something? Was it what I was wearing? Maybe I turned the wrong way and he saw too much?

I have been in sitations where I have been sexually abused, molested by people I loved and trusted, and yes, in some of those circumstances, I even orgasmed during some of these attacks. However, I will continue to call them what they were, attacks, abuse. I did not ask for them, I did not want them. With all but a select few circumanstances, I did say no. Despite what some people think, no can mean just that. NO!

I do not control my body however. When you are cold, the heat feels good, when you are warm, the cold feels good. This is a chemical reaction to stimuli and I refuse to allow some nameless person make me feel bad because of something I could not control. It was the chemicals in my body reacting, not me, not my heart that was breaking, not my soul that felt like it was being ripped out, not my mind that had to drift to other places just to be able to make it through the nightmare.

I am also struggling with why I am submissive after all that has happened to me. It is something that keeps coming up in conversations between me and those close to me who know about my life, as well as between myself and Chris. I have no answers.

My submission (if that is the label it is destined to have) goes beyond our bedroom. I love to serve Chris. I cook for him, I clean our home and take pride in it for him. His praise fills me with a feeling of love, acceptance and a warmth I have never before felt. I enjoy kneeling at his feet to watch tv, I love to serve him his dinner.

I have learned, in the beginning, from reading the blog of a woman named Amber, and then later on through blogs and conversations with others, that what I feel, what I want, what I desire, are healthy normal feelings. I am not hurting anyone. It makes me happy, it makes my husband happy, when you have happy parents, you have happy children. This has made my home full of harmony. No one will convince me that this is a bad thing.

Probably the best thing about this journey has been the fact that we have been forced to communicate alot more then we used to. It used to be very hard for me to talk to him about things. Sometimes it still is. Not nearly as bad as it was. I do not feel so alone anymore, and right now, I can honestly say that when I do feel lonely, it is more a product of my bi-polar than anything. Now, mind you, there is going to come a time when no amount of reasoning is going to convince me of that, it's just how my mind works.

I can say though, that while Chris and I have decided to give up the label of "submissiveness" for me, it does not change how I feel towards him, or him towards me. I was feeling constantly like a failure because he would want to have sex and I didn't want to, so we didn't. This felt as if I was running things but making him responsible. If he questioned me "I thought you were supposed to do what I say" I would freak out. This was not what I had intended, it was not what he had intended. For us, the label didn't work because then guilt would kick in, self doubts would rise, I would question myself and wonder why I was always failing at everything that I do. This just takes the expectation out of it. He will still spank me. I will continue to serve him as I always have, and we will be happy with one another. There may come a time when it changes again, so be it, good marriages are about change. Learning to compromise with one another, try new things. I feel as if I have one of the better marriages out there. (Not directed towards those I know, just, statistics in general) .

Speaking of which, Chris and I are nearing our 6th wedding anniversary in the next couple of weeks as well as birthdays for both of us. I don't think I've ever mentioned my age, but, I will be turning 30 this year and that is, as stupid as it sounds, heavy on my mind. I will probably post alot about this later on.

Bear with me for the rest of this week as we are still working overtime. I have to take it now because next week I am going in for oral surgery. I have to have four teeth removed immediatly, they are hurting so bad that it is keeping me from sleeping. Chris finally dragged me into the dentist today and of course he did alot of preaching about how I should have come in a long time ago to have them worked on. Well, I didn't have insurance. I am terrified of dentists. The pain wasn't so bad. I could go on and on about why I didn't go, but, the result is the same. I am going to have four teeth removed and then return to the dentist to see about getting partials put in.

I am reading each of you, maybe not everyday, but, I start at the top of my list and read as many of you as I can. Most of you know I am not a daily commenter anyway, but I am here, I am reading, I am bearing testimony to your stories and my heart is with all of you.

Thank you for being here for me.

Just Temporary

I apologize now, but I wanted to let you all know I will be gone for a couple of days, not because of AnonyAss, but because I am taking extra hours at work, 20 this week and 20 next week to be exact, so, that means I'll be working 120 hours in the next two weeks. I will barely have time to breath and sleep, much less post.

I will touch on AnonyAss when I return, but, for the moment he/she is not worth my time.

My readers however, who have rallied to my defense, I will comment. You all have made me feel very much loved and supported and no words will ever be able to thank you properly. I thought about giving up blogging but you all made me realize that if I did, he/she/they would win and I won't allow that, not in my life, not now, not ever.

Thank you, thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. I cried as I read each of them. Your words touched a place inside of me, and each of you holds a special place in my heart. Forgive my departure, but I will return soon.

Children

It is my opinion that nothing in this world is more important then our children. They are everything. They represent our future. The children we are raising now will become our leaders tomarrow. We must protect that with every means possible.

I do hold myself responsible for the raising of my children. My children have been taught to be independant, loving, compassionate, and self sufficiant. I do not think they are by no means ready to go into the world, but I am confidant that they are well on their way.

All of my children, including my boys, will have the life skills they need to live on their own. Since they were able to walk, they have helped me in the kitchen, learning how to cook. Perhaps this doesn't seem to be a big thing, but I can assure you that future spouses will appreciate this skill. My daughter can sew her own clothes, my boys will also be taught when they are old enough. They all have chores they are responsible for taking care and we rotate those so that they can each learn how to take care of each room of the house.

By the time that my children were three, they could bathe themselves. I remember a time when we lived with my inlaws, my son was about 5 and I sent him in for a shower, in the meantime I went downstairs to get my youngest boy settled in for bed. All the way downstairs I could hear angry shrieking and I rushed back up to see what was going on. Grandma, in her effort to be helpfull, went in to wash him. Of course, my son flipped out, he did not want anyone touching his body (we have talked about their bodies being their own since before they could talk). Grandma said she was trying to make sure he was cleaned and out in a hurry, and I do believe this, however, I explained to her that my children were taught that no one gets to touch them in the places a bathing suit covers, ever. Not even the doctor unless Mommy or a Nurse is there with them. She was astounded, she said "But he's a child" and I said "Yes, but he is my child, and his body belongs to him" She asked me how I make sure he is clean and I said " I send him in to shower Grandma, he's old enough to clean his own body"

But, I want to protect them. I want to keep them from the predators that we've been talking about. I do not mind being responsible for my children, getting to know the parents of their friends. However, I know that evil hides itself in many forms. My own grandfather, Angel's grandfather, both abused us respectivaly. These were men who where entrusted with us by our parents. Some people think I am fooling myself, but, I do not believe that my grandfather molested anyone before my grandmother died. That means, that my mother had no reason to fear her own father. I do not fear mine. How can I make good judgments if you don't know who to trust? I could limit my children to my next door neighbor that we've known for four years, but, does that mean I know if he is a child molestor or not? Does that mean I should keep my children from going anywhere?

I don't ask these questions just to be difficult. I ask because while my children were gone, I did alot of thinking about them and I realized that my daughter has only spent one night with a friend in her 12 years. Not that she hasn't been invited, simply I do not know the parents. I want to get to know these parents, but, I learned that when you say "I'm sorry but she can't stay the night until I know you better" is a sure fire way to lose your child's friends.

How do I know when I've went from "protective" to "smothering"? Am I impending their childhood with my own fears and insecurities?

I have had people ask me why I would want a Sex Offender Registry. I would look at the address and try to determine if any of them lived near me, I would read the names to see if I know any of them, then, I would be more cautious. I would not allow my child to play in their home, even if they had kids. Not that I wouldn't allow their children to play with mine just not in their homes. Would I tell my kids what it all means? Hell no.

It's frustrating, it's irritating, I want a solution, I want answers. I want the fucking system to do it's job so that I can do mine better. They need to seriously look at the system and realize what makes it so easy to victimize today's children. There are no clear cut laws. There are no clear cut consequences. Our prison system used to make it scary to go to prison. I have asked people and 7 out of 10 of them say that they have no fear of prison. People who are abused are afraid to come forward because our system fails.

Chris and I had a lengthy conversation about this and this is how it went, best of my recollection.

me: So, I posted today about the Sex Offender's Registry
him: Yeah, how'd it go over, that's a pretty touchy subject
me: Yeah but it gave me alot to think about, I mean, there were some pretty good points
him: So are you for it or against it?
me: I am for it, but it would have to be restructured to be fair. This thing with Jetseta Gage just makes me sick, I mean, how can a parent NOT know what is happening in her own home?
him: Well, maybe like you, she worked second shift and saw her kids very little, maybe when she was with them she never really saw them when she was with them. Not all parents want to be, or are as aware of their children as we are.
me: What exscuse is there for allowing the brother of the man that molested your child to be a part of your life though?
him: I don't have an answer to that, but think of this, what would you do if our daughter came to you and told you I had molested her?
me: I would ask you to move out, or I would take the kids and leave
him: For how long?
me: Until I had it sorted out
him: Explain that for me, what do you mean by sorted out?
me: I would need to determine if she was being honest (my daughter does have issues with honesty) I would need to be able to work it out if it wasn't
him: So, what your trying to say is that you would want to work it out?
me: Yes
him: You see Nikki, this is the thing, even when these parents know, they want to work it out, like , in my family, we do not air our dirty laundry in public, if an argument breaks out in the yard, we go inside. Alot of people are raised like that, and, who wants to believe the man they love is hurting their child? So, maybe they did know, maybe they even talked to him about it and he promised to never do it again. Maybe the mom just couldn't deal with it so she turned her back on it, like your mom, to this day, she refuses to talk about your sister, it's like, if you don't talk about it, it doesn't happen.
me: But if I felt she was being honest, I would not try to "work it out", I would have you arrested
him: I love you and I know you love the children, but, honestly Nikki, I don't know if you could do that
me: I could Chris, I would have to
him: You really think you could have me arrested?
me: For that, yes
him: Tell me why, tell me why you sound so strong and sure when you say it like that
me: Because all I ever wanted was justice. I wanted my grandfather to be arrested.
him: I think you just wanted someone to believe you
me: Yes, and even if he didn't do jail time, arresting him would have proven to me that someone believed me, someone cared.

It is the sad reality that more often then not, even reported abuse goes unpunished. This opens up so much hurt and fear that I can not begin to describe it.

All I wanted was for someone to believe me, show me I was important, to erase the words of my mother from my mind. "You are sick to imagine something like that, you need help"

Our System

WOW! I have the most awsome readers, how lucky am I? Thank you all so much for your comments. This was exactly what I needed as a sounding board. I didn't agree with all of the opinions, but, I do believe that everyone has a right to their own and please do not think, if I disagree with you, that I do not respect you or your opinon, it is simply differant from mine. Many of the ideas and thoughts are the same however, so, here is part two.


First of all, this is part of the problem. Our system fails us so badly. They do convict the wrong people for the wrong reasons. The woman who took a picture of her son, I think that is just stupid. You see, I would never take those kinds of pictures anymore because it is considered sexual abuse, however, when my daughter was little it was not and I do have some pictures of her happily playing in bubble baths, grinning up at me through all the bubbles. You can not see a damn thing you shouldn't, but I love photos. They are art to me, maybe more so than paintings. They represent life as it is. My brother is married to one of the most wonderful women ever and she is obssessed with recording her children's lives through photo's and scrapebooking. I can easily see this kind of thing happening to her. Does she mean harm to her children? Hell no, she'd step in front of a bus or take a bullet for any one of her children. She is an attentive and loving mother, she just wants them to be able to see themselves in all facets of life when they get older.

Secondly, for those men/women who are guilty, how do we protect their families? Why should they be punished when they are victims as well? I wish I could have faith in people to know the differance between the men/women who commit the crimes and their families, but lets get real here folks, it seems people open up to a cause and many of them become fanatical about it. Hell, this country still suffers from hate crimes every single day of the week just because someone is a differant color, or religion, or has a differant sexual preferance then them. What makes us think they have judgment enough to let these people live in peace. A good case in point is posted over at my friend Xariklea's Angry Bitch blog. Just read her story and you'll see what I mean by total lack of judgment.

Then there is the wrongly convicted. No, this doesn't happen often, but, it does happen. Our system does fail us. It puts people away and lets them go on judgment. We decide, as a society, who is guilty and who is not. There is no other way for our system to work. I understand tht, I even appreciate that we have the chance to stand and defend ourselves in front of a group of our peers. Sadly however, because we are judged by people, convicted and defended by people, we are left open for interpretation. Interpretation of the law, of our motives, of our emotions. I know that I have flat out told judges that I am not fit to sit on a jury because all three times I've been called up for jury duty, it has been domestic violence cases. I know I could not be partial and fair, but some people, especially in high profile cases, >want< to be on those jurys, they want to see everything front and center, and they allow this to convince themselves that they can be fair, when sometimes, they just can't. Interpretation of the law is probably the hardest for me to swallow. Our laws mean different things to different people. It depends on if you're background. Rich people may not be as forgiving of a person who stole money or food and say that they needed it to take care of their families. Poorer people may not be as forgiving of someone who has cheated on their taxes.

Then yes, their are those odd cases where two consenting people have sex and one is convicted of sexual assault, sexual abuse, or sometimes even rape, because one of them is younger then 18. I have a friend who's husband is a loving, attentive, hard working, loyal husband and great father. He was found guilty of sexual abuse for making a smart ass comment about the chest size of someone he knew. They were words. Maybe not appropriate, which he owned up to, but, bad enough to be convicted and placed on the a Sex Offender list? They live in a fairly small town and she has suffered through hell because of this. There are also stupid laws, as was pointed out in my comments. My state is one of those were it is illegal to have oral sex. I mean, come on folks, if I want to suck my husband's dick, isn't that my own damn business as long as I am not exposing others to it? Why is someone labled as a Sex Offender if they go streaking?

These things make no sense to me. This is the problem damnit. We have so many ways to look at things, interpretation. They are too many loopholes in our system. Bad people get off, good people go to jail, it's crazy.

I do not feel that any criminal has any rights to privacy. I believe that they give up all rights to privacy when they commit their crimes. I do not feel sadness, or pity for them. Buffalo made a good point and it brings up the question of "When does it stop?" when do we say enough is enough? Is it one death? Two deaths? Do you have to compare yourself to Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacey? How many more people have to die? How many children are destroyed emotionally for the sick satisfaction of others?


Whew, not done yet, hope your still with me here. I have to get ready for work, so, tomorrow I will work on yet another post on this subject, it is something that is eating at me, gnawing on my heart. I really want to get my thoughts and emotions out there about this. I will address it from my "parent view" tomorrow. Keep the great comments coming.

Sex Offender Register

This is a great idea. This should be federal law in my opinion. Every person who offends should be held responsible and forced to register. That information in turn, should be availible to the public.

Oh I know, almost half the states have this thanks to Parents for Megan's Law .

If you don't know this story, you should. A bright beautiful little girl was kidnapped, raped, and murdered by a convicted sex offender. She was seven years old. She lived in New Jersey. Across the street from her a predator lay in wait. Watching her, striking when the time was right for him. Her name was Megan Nicole Kanka.

Now, as great as it is that they have passed these laws in 22 states, that means that 28 states do not have this. The state I live in, does have one, but, it doesn't list the county I live in.

I wish I could believe that this means my county is free of these predators, but it doesn't. It simply means that the database hasn't been updated yet.

In Iowa, the state I live in, another story is made public. Jetseta Gage. A ten year old girl who had her whole life in front of her, was molested by her mother's boyfriend. I don't know all the details about how the molestation came out, but, they did report that this had been taking place for nearly 3 years.

The man has a record. He's done this before. He is arrested, all is wonderful right? Justice will be served.

No, you see, the man has a brother, and, the mother, took him in as her "friend". This man, who, also has a record might I add, kidnapped, raped, and then killed this beautiful child.

Now, they are saying that they might drop the case against his brother. For one, they say he has the right to face his accuser. Two, the only witness in the case can not testify.

This is probably one of the worst cases of gross misjustice I've ever heard. For those of you who are supporting the dropping of this case because of point number one, let me tell you something. Very seldom to they make 10 year old girls go in and stare into the face of a man who's been molesting her for 3 years. If they child >does< go in, it is their choice. They usually do a life feed from another room.

For point number two, I pray that they also charge him with accessory to murder. Maybe he ordered the hit, maybe he didn't, but it is clear to anyone that he was the cause of this little girl's death.

I fear however that I am straying from my subject. You see, both these men were on convicted once before. They were on the Sex Offender Registery lists. The mother says she didn't know this because she didn't have a computer to check the facts.

Now, I might have sympathized for the first boyfriend. These men are predators, they know how to lull you into a false sense of security, but why the hell would you, put your child, into the path of a man who's brother is facing charges for molesting your child?

This mother faces no charges.

I am so full of anger for this little girl. I am horrified that no one stepped in to protect her.

I read so many stories, I've met so many women, and even a few men, I myself have been down this road and it sickens me. When will it stop? When will we ever feel it to be safe for our children?

But, is a registry the answer? What about those who commited the act 20 years ago and served their time and haven't reoffended? What about their rights? Do criminals have rights? They are still people too aren't they? When do their rights end and the victims rights kick in? The right to go to school safely? The right to play in their front yard safely? The right to sleep in their own beds safely?

So many questions, and I am going to come back to this, but, for now, I am heading for work. Thanks for all the well wishes to get better. I am feeling somewhat better and I appreciate all the love.

Lies

I am still struggling not to lose myself in darkness. I can feel it creeping up on me like nightfall. My heart begins to beat hard in my chest and I look around to see if anyone has noticed the beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. I struggle to catch my breath and my mind screams for my hands to stop shaking.

I want my children home and they will not leave until the 6th. I miss them terribly. They are my life. Yes, I do have Chris. But at the heart and soul of me, I am a mother. I live and breath for my children and I feel so helpless with all that is happening.

I don't have time to go into all of it, but it comes down to lies. I feel like every adult that I have trusted my children to, my mother, my brothers, my ex, all of them are fucking liars. I hear one story from one and then another one of them tells me that it isn't true. The entire foundation of my world feels like it has been knocked off kilter. I feel like it is spinning in crazy circles and all I can do is hold on for dear life or I'll be flung off and go sailing into space.

Why do people have to lie? How is it that you can say that you love someone and then turn around and lie, not once, not twice, but over and over.

I should have known better. My mother has been lieing to me my whole fucking life. When I was eight years old and the truth came out about my grandfather molesting me, there was a huge investigation. Then my little world went silent. I hated being at home.

I remember going to a friends house and staying for three days. Yes, I was eight years old. I told her parents that my mom and dad had went on vacation and forgotten me. Talk about Home Alone. They asked me for my phone number and I changed one of the numbers so that my parents couldn't be reached. I did not want to go home.

Now, mind you. I knew then that it was wrong. I know now that it was wrong. No where in my mind did I ever try to make it "right". But I was too afraid to go home.

When I did go home. There was no whipping. No grounding. No nothing. I waited for days for the axe to fall and after a while I just accepted that this is the way it was going to be.

My mom even came in one night and told me that we were going to go to Denver to visit family and see the amusment park. I was so excited. With much careful deliberation I picked out my outfits for the trip. I got my walkman and tapes ready to go and we left early the next morning. I slept most of the 8 hour trip and when we arrived, my mother pulled us over to a gas station and used the phone. My dad yelled at my brothers and me to stop fighting, but, my older brother wouldn't give back my tapes and we were going at it full swing when my mother got back into the car and gave my Dad an address and told him that we needed to meet my uncle at work.

The fighting continued.

We pulled up in our old station wagon. I had never seen where my uncle worked and this place looked ominous. The shadows fell over what few windows there were and I climbed out of the car, grateful for a chance to stretch my legs. My mother told me to get my bag so we could put it in my uncles car and make more room for us kids, so I grabbed my bag and followed my mother inside. The sign said BPI. With some big words I didn't understand on it.

The inside was stark white. The walls, the floors, it seemed like everything was white. It made the pea green couch stand out like a neon light and I felt a shiver run down my spine and I glanced toward the door wishing that my Dad would hurry up.

My mom shook hands with a woman in a nurse's uniform and spoke so quietly I couldn't even hear her. I knew she was asking for my uncle. I clutched my bag to me tighter.

They led us down a hallway and as we stepped through the door I couldn't help but notice the way the door locked shut behind us. The nurse stopped, looked at my mother and nodded. My mother turned to me and said "Nikki, I have to go now, you're going to stay here for a while, so they can find out what's wrong with you."

I turned my confused gaze up to her and I recall asking her "What's wrong with me?" and she said "Yes, Nikki, this is a Psychiatric Hosptial, you can't tell lies about people, you can't say the things you did about your grandfather unless they are true, and we both know that it never happened. You are very very sick to imagine that kind of thing"

My mind brought backt he sign "Boulder Psychiatric Insititute"

I could feel my heart contracting and tears welling up in my eyes. I was speechless as she backed through the door and my mind screamed at me to run, to get out while I could, but I was frozen to the spot and after she was sure I wasn't going to scream and cry and rush the door as she stepped through, she turned and walked away from me.

The sound of the door clicking shut and locking behind her was like thunder in my ears.

My parents, my brothers, they did go on to vacation and visit the amusment park. For me, my life began a journey that would lead me to where I am today.

I still hate the sound of automatic locking doors and white hallways.

Lies however, I hate those the most.

Downward Spiral

Well, I suppose nothing ever lasts, at least in the life of a bi-polar. I tend to find that I have serious depressant episodes when I get my period. I started yesterday.

I miss my kids.

My job is boring to the point where I hate to go.

I am getting old and I live in low income housing.

I want to provide more for my kids then I had and I'm failing.

I will miss my son's birthday.

I miss hearing them laugh.

My stomach hurts.

I feel as if there is no end in sight to the sadness and despair. I have no right to talk. Perhaps it is because my friend has informed me that the reason they can't have kids is because of him. He says it could be cancer, or an infection, or something else, but whatever it is, has to do with him.

The thought that it might be cancer is horrifying. I love this man. As much as I do my own husband. He has been there for me over the last six years. I have bared my heart and soul to him and not only are we still friends, but he loves me for it. I refuse, at the moment, to even contemplate that it is something this horrible.

The second and most pressing part of this tragedy is that this man would make an awsome father. Now mind you, you might think I'm crazier then hell, but, we have never met in real life, but, I know this man well enough that by mutual agreeance, Chris and I have requested that he be the Godfather to our children. That's right. If we both die, our children will not go to our families, they will go to this man that we've never met. Why? Because he has shown more love and support to not only me, but to Chris and our children in the last six years then anyone outside of this house. He has watched them grow, he has laughed and cried with us, he has talked me through the worst things that my kids have been through. He is thoughtful and insightful, he works hard, he loves fiercely and has been more loyal than I ever felt I deserved.

It is a tragidy that so many women can come and go spitting out children along the way to be abandoned. They have no regard for the lives of their own children, yet, people like this man who has every thing in the world to offer a child, including huge amounts of love, are robbed of this chance. I want to weep for him. I want to scream about the unfairness of it all.

I wanted to write about the journey that my daughter took but I think I will save that for tomarrow, right now I am too drained to do much more than this.

Please forgive me if I haven't posted comments on your blogs. I am reading them each night when I return home from work, but I simply do not have the energy to type much. Please know that I am still here and with you all.

Mistress Slave

My breath catches as momentary confusion washes over me. I feel closed in on all sides and in the darkness the only thing I am aware of is a warm body on either side of me. I force my eyes open and inhale quickly and their scents mix in the midnight air bringing back a rush of memories, the taste, the feel, the pleasure.

She moves slightly and I am brought back to the present and I smile softly as I feel her roll over I feel the length of her back pressed against mine, her skin as silky soft as , if not a bit cooler then I remembered.

Slowly I turn over, cringing as she stirs and holding my breath, it’ll never do to have her awaken before I am ready. She settles with the sigh of one who is content in dreamland and I let my breath out carefully before I continue.

My arm snakes out to wrap around her waist. I can feel the moisture between my legs and white heat begins to build in my belly. The entire room smells of our hours of sex and one would think I would be exhausted, but I seem to have a hunger that was only tasted upon.

The flat of my hand runs along her stomach and up towards her breasts to her nipples and my mouth hungers for the taste of them. Gently I rub my open palm on their suppleness and even in her sleep her body arcs up slightly to press into my hand. I curl my fingers around the hardening buds and gently tug on them, bringing them to hard peaks and eliciting a soft moan from her.

Behind me I can feel him roll over, his hand mimicking mine as it wraps around me. I press my ass back into his groin and already I can feel his hardness pressing into my backside. He shifts once more and simply by his breathing I know he is no longer asleep, yet, not quite awake and I shiver slightly as his hand slides along the length of my hip, his breath caressing my shoulder as he decorates it with soft whispery kisses, like the wings of a butterfly on my skin.

For only a moment do my fingers pause in their quest, squeezing and rolling the hard nipples in between my finger and thumb. Her hand moves up and she lays it open handed on the back of my own. She doesn’t try to guide it, she just wants to feel my hands touching her, I am more then happy to take her along with me on the journey, over one extended nipple to the other and back, teasing and tugging on them. The urge to taste her is overwhelming and I dip my head forward enough to lick her shoulder, leaving a wet trail back and forth to her neck. Her head turns slightly and my lips move up to meet hers. Soft and gentle the kisses are between us. No demanding, no begging, simply two women exploring each other’s mouth. It is warm as mine covers hers, her tongue dancing with mine in slow circles.

His direction shifts and suddenly he is tugging hard on my nipples, my own hands tighten in response and her and I let out a collective moan. His hard cock presses into my backside further and I can feel the juices within me beginning to trickle down the inside of my leg.

“Your such a little whore” his breath washes over my ear as he speaks, darting his tongue along the sensitive spot he knows I love to have licked. “I want to watch you eat her pussy, I want to see her writhing beneath you and begging to cum”

Her hand tightens in anticipation on top of mine and we reluctantly break the beautiful kiss we have been wrapped in. I know it isn’t necessary but I can’t resist whispering “You have heard the Master, it is time for me to taste you”

She rolls onto her back with eagerness and I can hear him laugh. His hand withdraws from my taut nipples and as I begin to get shift to my knees his hand comes down hard on my ass.

“She looks bored whore, I want to see you please her”

All three of us know damn well she doesn’t look bored, she looks like the cat that ate the canary. She knows that for tonight, I will be her slave, and that knowledge brings a slight smile to her face and her eyes go beyond my shoulder and I know they are looking at one another.

Like me, she is normally the slave, only this time, our Masters have decided it is time for her to demand what she wants, out loud, with words. I know that this alone is hard for her. She is used to taking orders, definitely not giving them. Knowing how it will humiliate her to ask sends another bolt of electricity from my stomach to my pussy and I lay my length on top of hers.

Her body is perfect in my opinion. Her breasts are large and voluptuous with nipples that are large and dark. I can feel them pressing against mine and I smile down at her shy expression. The moonlight filtering in through the open windows gives me plenty of light to see by and makes her eyes sparkle.

I feel his hand slap my ass again and I press myself against her even harder. I know she can feel the heat of my pussy pressing against her and fire flares in her eyes. Much like the fabled creatures of the night my lips part as I dip my head towards her neck to take a mouthful of her satiny skin. It is free and clear of any hair below her neck and I know this because I was ordered to shave her last night. Much as she lays now, she laid before me as I lathered her body up and slowly ran the razor along every inch of her skin.

I travel down her body, the rain of spankings falling on my ass like the steady beating of a drum. It seems to match the pace of my heart as I take one nipple between my lips and suckle. Her hips buck up and I slide my hand down between us and lay it flat against her hairless pussy, so different from mine with it’s soft hair.

“Is she biting them the way you like?” his words are like a caress all in themselves and she shakes her head slightly. “Command her, command your whore to do it as you like”

My eyes shift up to watch her face and I can see the shame spreading over her face and my heart swells. I love her, as only a woman can love another, and I want to please her like no other woman has but my orders were to wait for her to ask and so I shall. I almost whimper as she shakes her head no, an outright refusal.

For her, this would earn a spanking from her Master, perhaps even a lashing with the belt. But for this night, it was not to be so, for her punishment would now become mine. Had she known this, I am sure she would have found it in her to utter the words, but, as slaves, we are only told what our Masters feel we need to know and they had deemed it unnecessary to tell her this.

The bed rocked slightly as he climbed out. My entire body tensed as I heard the zipper of a bag. I knew that her Master had sent along a set of toys, but, again, it was not needed for me to know what was in them.
The whistling in the air was the only sound I heard before I felt the fire exploded over my ass and I couldn’t help but jerk forward from the pain. A whip of some kind, though I knew better then to turn around and look. Red and white dots appeared before my eyes and blurred my vision as I looked to her with a pleading expression. The next blow fell before I could catch my breath.

“My my little whore, your ass does mark up nicely with this.” He brought it down again, like an artist making a painting, the whip like implement his paint and my ass the canvass” Two more strokes and he paused, his cool fingers running over the hot welts that had popped up where he had struck me. Somewhere I became aware of the fact that my fingers had curled up tightly against her pussy and she was bucking up against them.

“For each refusal, she will get five lashes with this, do you understand me Mistress Slave?” For tonight, that was her name, mine, I was only to be addressed as whore, or cunt, or bitch, whichever name suited them. He, as always, was to be addressed as Master. “Each time you question or protest, she will also receive a punishment”

“I can’t” she replies in a helpless whisper and once more my body tightens up as I brace for the blow of the whip. I hold my breath in anticipation but instead of the rain of the whip I feel his fingers drifting down the small of my back and into the crack of my ass. Out of instinct it tightens up and my eyes widen, he has never touched me there and I can feel something cool and slick on his finger. Without warning, something cold and hard replaces his fingers and I whimper, trying to be brave, trying not move, I feel the butt plug begin to invade me. It is fairly slender to start with but I can feel it getting bigger. It works it in and out of me only a bit, trying to work it past the ring of my ass, twisting and turning it to lube me properly.

“I warned you” his soft words carry over the darkness and are cut off by whimper as he presses hard one last time and I feel it pop past the ring of my ass and settle deep inside me. It stretches me completely and I feel utterly full and I struggle not to push it back out. “If it comes out before I take it out, you will learn about true pain whore, Mistress Slave, are you ready command the whore to bite your nipples?”

Even though every sense of my body is on high alert I can barely hear her as she speaks “Bite them” the words rush out of her mouth and I clamp my teeth down on her nipple and pull my head back. The nipple caught between my teeth and my hand pressed down on her pussy. I can hear everything, even her soft moan of pleasure, I can smell everything, including her desire, and I can feel everything around me, even the air tantalizing my skin simply by just being there.

I lift my head up, pulling her nipple with my teeth until I am sure I can no longer safely pull and I shake my head side to side slowly, watching the creamy flesh of her tits bounce back and forth. I am mesmerized and I smile as I let go suddenly and watch it drop back down into place. I can see on her skin where my teeth have marked her and I moved to the other nipple to repeat this process.

I shift my fingers and slide two of them into her pussy. The warm wetness wrapping around my hand like a velvet glove and I wiggle them back and forth, going in separate directions with each one. The butt plug in my ass returning to my mind as he slips his fingers down to feel the heat radiating from my own pussy.

“Your little whore likes this Mistress Slave, don’t you whore, tell your Mistress how much you like it”

“I love feeling your body Mistress” I am not allowed to call her slave, that is for Master only, least she forget her place. “ I love feeling your wet pussy around my fingers and tasting your nipples. May I lick your pretty pussy please? May I Mistress?”

I can feel her body tighten in response to my words, clamping down around my fingers in a vise like grip and a pang of jealousy washes over me, for the first time ever, I wish I could be a man, to see what it would be like to have this beautiful woman thrust up to meet my every movement and watch her body wiggle underneath mine in pleasure.

This time I never even hear the sound of air being shifted before I feel the pain. This is different, this is not a whip, it is more like a wooden paddle, it is large and flat and the next four swats come in rapid succession, stealing my breath from me and causing tears to spring into my eyes. I feel his finger pressing hard against the butt plug, as if knowing it might slip out without conscious thought to hold it in.

“Yes! Yes whore, lick me, lick my pussy like the whore you are”

I tremble at her words, though, from relief that the punishment will stop, or from the desire to taste her again undecided. I eagerly shift down and nibble her skin on my way, over her stomach and off to her sides, causing her to shift as my lips tickle her, over to her hips as my teeth nick at her.

Eagerly I slide down and inhale her scent. The sleek folds of her bald pussy glisten with her juices and without removing my fingers I gently lick along the outer folds to clean her juices off of her. I know that not all of her juices are hers, her Master made sure to fill her up before sending her over and the thrill of tasting both of them makes my heart pound and my clit throb.

Even as I become aware of the throbbing, I can feel him reach underneath me to flick it with his fingers, causing it to swell even more. He settles in behind me and I can feel his hardness pressing against me, a wet stickiness from where he has rubbed his pre cum on me. His large hands move over my ass cheeks caressing them and I know he is watching me lick her so I tip my head a bit to give him a better view.

“That is as far as you can lick her until she asks, do you understand this whore?” I nod my head and mutter my answer against her skin “Yes Master”

My lips and tongue continue their gentle assault, my fingers dancing deep inside her, stroking her back and forth. Her fingers slink down to grab a hold of my red curls as she attempts to get me to go further.

I feel him pressing his hard cock against the moist opening of my cunt and I try to press back, but his hands on my ass pushes me forward and tips my ass up. Already my body feels fuller then ever with the butt plug still inside and I can only pray he pulls it out, but my silent prayers go unanswered and I moan against her wetness as he eases himself inside me.

Bright colors swirl in circles buzzing above my head, for a ridicules thought that there were fireflies in the room, struggling to breath as I feel myself stretch around me.

He pulls out and presses in with agonizing slowness and I continue to lick her outer lips up and down slowly, moving from one side to other, dragging the tip of my tongue against her swollen clit, my fingers wiggling inside her, digging high up inside her as I search for her g-spot.

His hand smacks down hard against my ass. Lighting pain shooting through the areas where the whip had left it’s mark. The second one lands and it feels nearly twice has hard as the last one and I whimper as I feel the tears gathering in my eyes.

“Tell your whore what you want Mistress Slave, tell her how you want her to lick your pussy so she can do it right”

The third and fourth blows rain down in quick movements even as he continues to push in and withdraw leisurely, I can feel my own orgasm building deep inside me.

“Please…” her voice trails off in hesitation, even as her hands try to force my head down slightly, not with much difficulty do I refuse her pitiful plea.

“Come now Mistress Slave, tell her how you really want it, command her, make her do what pleases you” His words are punctuated by the blows of his open hand falling on my ass and the tears run unheeded down my face, the shame, the humiliation, my own impending orgasm. I struggle through it all, trying to hold myself back, knowing I am not allowed to cum without permission, yet so full and so excited by the entire scene.

His thrust begin to pick up speed and he uses his hands to pull my ass apart, spreading me even further and my hips rock back and forth to meet him. I feel a soft stinging sensation across my face, very light at first, and then a second. It takes me a moment to realize that not only is my Mistress speaking to me, but I am not following her orders.

“Lick inside me you dirty bitch, lick inside me and make me cum”

The words are an aphrodisiac and without further promting I bury my face deeper, my tongue swirling around my fingers, teasing and taunting her clit with the pointed end of my tongue with ravishing the rest of her inside with my fingers, adding a third simply for good measures.

I feel her fingers tighten in my hair, forcing my mouth onto her clit. His movements create a harmony. He thrusts and slaps, I move forward, my teeth nip at her clit and he pulls back, forcing her clit out of my mouth before repeating the process over and over again.

I would like to say that she screamed my name, or that she screamed at all, but her orgasm was rather silent as she simply lifted her hips and pressed down on my head, her knees tightly clasped around my face as I struggled to stay upright, as I feel my own orgasm hovering and I beg even as she cums into my mouth.

“Please Master, Please may your whore cum?”

A few more deeped thrusts and his hands squeeze tightly against my hips as he pushes inside me until it feels like he is cumming into my belly. I feel the heat of his juices squirting inside me and I shake tremendously with the effort of waiting.

His hand reaches down and pinches my clit roughly. “Come for me whore, come for your Mistress and Master” and without another thought I do. The waves breaking over me time and time again, sending hot white blasts all throughout my body.

I collapse on top of her and she runs her fingers through my hair lovingly as he pulls both the butt plug and his cock out of me, leaving me a bit relieved, but, feeling empty in a way.

I return to the position I was in when I awoke, he watches us from the edge of the bed. Her warm hand wraps itself around mine and I smile up at him.

He leans down and his smile is so worth it and the emptiness fades as he whispers “My good girls, sleep now, for there will be more to come tomorrow”





*A note just to clarify, It *is* a fantasy. A few of my other stories were not clarified and I regreted it later, and I was asked alot about the woman I have a crush on, but I will not reveal her name. This story was written with her in mind and she knows who she is.

Freaks

Copy this entire list into your blog/journal.
BOLD everything about you that is true.
Leave plain anything that is false about you.
Put an asterisk (*) at the end of false statements you would LIKE to be true.


I am bi-sexual.
My spouse or lover is aware of my orientation.
My spouse or lover has watched me have sex with someone of my gender.*
I have had sex while wearing a blindfold.
I have blindfolded someone else during sex.
I have had sex while watching porn.
I have had sex while surfing porn on the Internet.
I sleep better after sex.
There are some nights I cannot sleep without sex or masturbating.
The bed is NOT my most favorite place to have sex.
I am turned on knowing someone is watching me have sex.
I am turned on knowing someone is watching me masturbate.
I have masturbated for my spouse or lover while on the phone.
I have masturbated for someone over a web cam.
I have had sex over a web cam.
I will have sex with someone I just met if they turn me on. (once upon a time)
I have been tied up during sex.
I have had sex with someone who was tied up.
I have dripped wax onto a lover's body.
I have had a lover drip wax onto my body.I have a foot fetish.
I have a leather fetish.
I have a tickle fetish.
I like being choked during sex.
I have had sex in a burning building.(What the FUCK?)
I like having my nipples squeezed during sex.
I have erotic art on display somewhere in my residence.
I enjoy nudie magazines.
Erotic toys are a regular part of my budget.*
I think PLAYBOY is tame, maybe even boring.
I have clicked on porn links in my email.
I know the difference between girl/girl and lesbian sex in porn.
I have watched more than one gay/lesbian porn video.
Much of what I know about sex comes from porn.
Interracial sex turns me on.(no more then sex that isn't interracial)
I have had interracial sex with someone of my gender.
I want my spouse or lover to have an interracial sex experience.
I want to watch my spouse or lover have an interracial sex experience.
I think we should do more to understand the cultures of sex.
I would participate in sex research given the opportunity.
My current lover does not sufficiently meet my sexual needs.
I currently have a "crush" on someone of the same sex.
I have had sex at my place of employment.
I have had sex with someone from my place of employment.
I have had sex with a former co-worker of my gender.
I am often disappointed in my sexual relationships. (have been in the past)
Some people might describe me as a nymphomaniac.
I am difficult to live with if I'm not having sex on a regular basis.
I sleep better with someone snuggled up next to me.
I have had sex under water.
I have had sex in the snow.
I am in a polyamorous relationship.*
I have to have music playing while having sex.
I have had more than ten orgasms in one night.
I have flashed strangers.
I have given sex as a gift.
I have set-up a three-way for my lover. (IN THE PAST)
I stopped during this list to have sex.


I think that everyone else is freaky and I'm normal. I'm seeing alot more bold print than I am regular. Oh well, now that this is over, I think I'll go get some.

Moments In Life

There are moments in your life where you can look back and see that one single event changed your life irrevocably. Something that was so profound that you know that there is no going back, no recovering from it. I have had several such moments in my life. It seems, as I begin to get older, they become linked with one another like a circle. Never ending. Never knowing where one begins and the other ends. Let me explain.

For those of you who have followed me for a while know the story of my sister. Beautiful, smart, charismatic, full of life. Melody Joy was her name and it fit her well. She had the voice of an angel and brought joy to everyone in her life. She had three beautiful children. Sadly, her life was cut short by a domestic violence dispute. I will not go into all the details in the post, if you want to read them, you can check the archives. The basics of it are that it was an abusive, jealous husband, combined with drugs and alcohol, and the gun she bought to protect herself that ended her life.

When my uncle was a young man, around 17 or so, he went hunting with his best friend. They laid the guns against a fence so they could climb over. My uncles gun did not have the safety on and when it hit the ground, it discharged and shot his best friend. He held him in his arms as the young man died, my uncle screamed for help and no one came. They found him the next day, still holding onto his best friend.

Growing up, I had a lot of cousins, there were 27 of us grandkids. There were some that I was closer to than others however. One of them, Julie, was only a year older then me and we were very close. At the age of 12, I went to visit her where she lived with her mother. We had a great time and I got to meet her boyfriend. We became instant friends and I also fell in love with his mother. She was the kind of mother I had always wanted and for about two years after I had left to go back to the hell of foster and group homes, she would write to me and tell me about the things happening in their lives. One day I got the call that Billy (her son who was my cousins boyfriend) had been involved in an accident. It seems that he went to collect his younger brother from a friends house for dinner and when he went in, he found the two boys playing with a gun. The home they were visiting was a police officers and it was his duty weapon. Billy demanded the weapon and his brother just laughed at him and waved the gun some more. Billy, afraid for everyone’s safety, moved to take the gun and a struggle ensued, it ended up with Billy shot point blank in the chest. He did not survive. The younger brother had believed that what he had in his hand was a toy gun.

These are stories that most people read about in the news every once in a while. This has happened to three people in my life that I know and love. The losses were devastating.

The most recent of these however, was the loss of my sister. This led me to one of the most critical decisions in my life. In a day and age where you can get toy guns of any kind, I made the decision that none of my children would be allowed to play with guns. No water guns, no cap guns, no pretend rifles, not even a silly string gun.

A bit harsh you say? A woman who doesn’t think anyone has the right to have a gun? No, I believe everyone has the right to choose weather to arm themselves with guns or not. It is a constitutional right and who am I to say that is wrong. I grew up with guns. I can shoot and clean guns with the best of them. No joke, I was 20 years old before I knew you had to have a license to hunt because my grandfather took us hunting year round. This was not just hunting for sport. We lived in Colorado and we hunted deer, elk, rabbits, pheasants, ducks and other various animals, but we also ate everything that we shot and killed. So, just so that I am clear on my stance, I believe that everyone has the right to choose.

My choice has been not to allow it. A lot of people do not understand this. A lot of people, even people in my life, have felt that by not teaching them how to handle guns properly, that I am tempting them to seek it on their own, thus putting them into further danger. I do not agree. This is why. A few years back, when Chris and I first got together, we took the children to the park. We did this on a regular basis, so, pretty normal. What made this so different was that as Chris and I got settled down on the grass with a blanket both the children came running straight for us at breakneck speed. “There’s a gun by the swings Mommy, there’s a gun by the swings” Neither of them touched it, they simply came to us and told us, which is something we had taught them to do. Now, mind you, when we inspected the gun, it was a toy gun. No harm no foul. It did however, look exactly and I do mean exactly like a revolver. We had to pick it up to tell the difference.

I am droning now aren’t I? There is a point to all of this.

You see, my brother called me to ask if he could take the children camping. I had some serious reservations about him doing this because he is not a very responsible adult. I asked who all would be going. He said him and four kids. I said no. He said okay.

Then he went and told my mother that it was okay by me, that I said he could take them. That was so not true. But, because he told her that I said he could, she allowed him to take my 12 year old daughter and my 8 year old son camping.

My mother was upset because when my brother “came back” from camping, he drove the children straight over to my ex’s house, which, was not the plan. It left the youngest son with my mother for the 4th of July when they are too old for fireworks.

So, all day I call my ex. Getting madder and madder by the minute that I can’t get a hold of them. Around 4pm on the 4th they finally call me. Seems that my ex and his wife went with my ex and my ex told me that my brother got up way before the others and left the camping area with just him and his two boys. Left my kids with my ex, not to mention all of MY camping gear that he borrowed.

So, this would make most people feel better, but not me. You see, my ex and my brother were very close during our marriage. My brother was only 13 when we got married and he lived with us for most of our married lives. I know first hand that the two of them like to get together and drink.

So, to keep the peace and explain it to my mom I give her a call back. It is at this time that she tells me that my brother told my dad he had to come back early because his shoulder was sore from shooting.

….

“Shooting what?” is my shocked response.

“A shotgun Nikki, they took a shotgun with them”

Of course, I blew my freaking top. I was screaming so loud the neighbors could hear me I’m sure.

One might think this would be the worst of it, but oh no. You see, I hung up with my mother and called my ex back, I didn’t even talk to him, I demanded to speak to my daughter.

I struggled to keep my voice calm “So, did you have fun camping?” I’m sure by now she thought I was crazy, we had just had this conversation. “Yes mommy, it was fun” after a long pause I decided to just come out with it “I heard Uncle J took a gun” I tried to keep my voice casual, calm, cool and collected. I don’t think I did such a great job because her voice became small as she said “He did Mom, and, Mom, I’m not supposed to tell you, but, he showed me how to shoot it”

No joke, I felt like the floor fell out from beneath me, even Chris could see something was very wrong and he jumped to his feet and grabbed me, forcing me to sit down. I could only stare up at his eyes and blink as I tried to get my bearings and think of what to say. The adrenaline in me was pumping so fast and hard I could see Chris lips moving but I didn’t hear anything. He shook me once really good and the concern in his face brought my words out “They let her shoot a gun”

“What about JJ?” I blink at Chris’ words and repeat the question to my daughter who gives me an emphatic “NO” and goes on to tell me that he was sleeping. I later find out that while SHE was sleeping, they did allow him to shoot the gun.

Of course, I go off on my ex. He admits they were drinking while doing all of this. So, not only have they broken my cardinal rule, they broke the second rule too?!

I have a FREAKING COURT ORDER that says no one is allowed to drink in front of my children. I did this to protect them from shit like this, from their alcoholic father.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM?!

I tried to be calm, really I did. Listening to their fucking pathetic excuses just pissed me off. He stammered some dumb shit about how sorry he was, how I was right, how he should have asked me.

I am heartbroken over this. I feel very betrayed by my brother. The one person all my life I’ve been able to count on and he let me down in such a major way. They took my children out in the middle of no where, got drunk, handed them guns, shot guns while drunk, told my children to lie to me.

I can’t even begin to describe all the damage they’ve done. I’ve spent years teaching my children to not even touch guns, now they will throw everything I told them out the window because hey, they got to shoot guns and no one got hurt, so, why shouldn’t they, they “learned how to handle guns”.

Now, if my perverted brother puts his hands on my daughter or son and tells them not to tell, they are going to think that is the right thing to do. Not to tell. I am so fucking furious, I have no words. I am going to post this and maybe I’ll come back to it in a few days.

Wallowing In Love

I don't have a ton of time but I wanted to take a few minutes to let ya'll know what what was going on in my life.

My cousin arrived after having a breakdown of her vehicle that she fixed herself with a bit of help from a gentleman who worked at the place she broke down in.

Not two hours after she alerted her family to where she was she recieved a call saying that her two boys were in a roll over car accident. They are all right physically but the oldest is in a bit of legal trouble over it as he was driving 60 in a 35 zone, he was under the influence of marijuana, and he wasn't even driving his own vehicle.

His father is still going to leave him alone there and go to Montana as he had planned to do before. I am furious over this but there is nothing I can do and frankly, I am too tired of the situation to give a damn what he does.

My cousin on the other hand has contacted the company she works for and asked for a transfer. She has contacted the store managers and is waiting for the paperwork to be recieved by the store here so she can start here.

While I was at work, Chris took her to pick up the divorce papers. She has asked me to help her fill them out so we will do that tomarrow while we are waiting at the college for Chris to finish his test for this week.

When I came home from work tonight my house smelled like heaven. Chris served my dinner hot and fresh off the stove. He had made steaks with baby portebello mushrooms, corn on the cob, and fresh cut watermelon for desert. I felt like a princess. The house was cleaned and my cousin was doing up the dishes. (This is the girl who's house could go three weeks without having dishes done up!)

We've been doing alot of talking about what works for us to keep the house cleaned and what doesn't. She is very anxious and excited to get out of our house and into her own place. I am so excited for her because I am seeing so many changes in this beautiful woman that I adore.

All my life, she has been there for me. Maybe soon I will go more into our relationship. She is the closest thing that I have to a sister. Seeing her brought all of that back and I can't even describe the feeling I got when I wrapped her arms around me and burried my face into her long beautiful hair. It was like stepping into the only part of my past that was good and pure. It was as if I could smell the mountains on her and I felt the tears rolling down my face and I felt her shoulders shake and knew that she too was affected by the distance that had been forced on us for the last several years.

She called her brother and sister and they both came down on her for leaving. Although they both had to admit that they wouldn't let her stay with them because they had no room. She was great, told them all in a very calm, very collected voice that she was sorry she had hurt them but leaving was something she had to do for herself. It has been great having her here and I am so excited about the future ahead of us.

I am wrapped in love by two very special people right now and I am refusing to allow myself to do anything but enjoy it.

Here I Go Again

There is a song that has a huge meaning in my life. It is “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake. Now, this isn’t particularly me on a literal level. No, this song’s meaning goes beyond that, almost to an unbelievable point.

It is an song from the 80’s which I love. However, this means that it isn’t played terribly often on the radio. Let me tell you, when I do hear it, it forewarns me. As kooky and crazy as that sounds it is the truth.

You see, this took me a while to realize. It was subtle at first. Once I realized it, I was shocked at how I could miss it in the first place.

Every single time I have ever heard that song, a rather large change has come into my life. I heard it days before each of my kids were born. I heard it the day that Chris and I got married. I heard it shortly before we made the decision to move halfway across the country.

Now, all of this is told with a purpose in mind. Two days ago I received a call from my cousin. The only cousin I have that I have kept in contact with over the years. Oh yes, I do keep tabs on most of them, but, normally it is stuff I hear through the momvine. This cousin however, has been a huge support for me. Through all of the tragedies in my life she was there to hold my hand and love me without judgment. She never put up with any of my bullshit and called the shots like she sees them. Much like me.

Now this woman married her childhood sweetheart. He is someone whose parents were friends with our parents. They have now been married almost 19 years. For some time her life has been in chaos. She has two children whom are 17 and almost 16. I won’t go into the injustices her oldest boy has inflicted on her, but I will give you an idea by telling you that days after she had surgery he flopped down on top of her as she rested on the couch and broke a couple of her ribs.

For years she has begged me to move closer. I have always hesitated because I simply wouldn’t put up with the shit the men in her life put her through. I would end up in jail the first time her son raised his hand to her in front of me. My consolation was that her husband was always a decent man. He works hard and makes good money. However, their marriage has been in trouble for a number of years. He wants more sex; she is too sick many times. Her illnesses also make it hard for her to feel up to doing any kind of housework and so it often falls to the side. One would assume that her husband and children would jump in and help her but let me tell you this is not the case. Their dishes can sit for weeks at a time before she finally goes in and spends two days doing them. Of course, this aggravates her illnesses and leaves her down for days at a time, during which things begin to pile up once more. It is a never ending vicious cycle for her.

So, two days ago, I return home from work to a message telling me that she has suspected for some time that he is going to leave her. At first I was skeptical. Until I spoke to him. Until the evidence was presented to me. She did confront him and confirmed that he was indeed planning on leaving. In less than a weeks time. These plans have been in the works since December, yet, he never said a word to her.

Now your thinking she’d probably be better off without him. I will agree with that. The problem is that he is leaving her in a trailer house that she hates. He is going to take her two boys from her. Which is probably for the best but still hurtful. They have a boat, a camper, the trailer, 19 years worth of stuff, as well as 4 non running vehicles. He had planned on taking his final paycheck and leaving her without anything to even make the July payment with.

I offered him a couple of solutions. Give it two months and I would try to counsel her long distance and see if that helped. He refused saying that long distance would be too hard for me to be of any help. I offered to let him come up and stay with us if he really felt he needed some distance. He said he would have to bring the boys, which I refused to do because I’d just kick the shit out of his oldest boy and yeah, if he ever raised a hand to me, Chris would make sure it would be the last time he ever raised a hand to anyone. Chris dominates me but in no way does he abuse me or condone the abuse of anyone. Therefore that option was out. The last option I gave him was for him to send her up to me. I explained that it would be good for her to see me (we haven’t seen each other in almost 7 years).

When he shot that option down I realized that it was not about getting away. I began to question him further, I questioned her. I have now come to the conclusion that he is having an online affair with a friend of his sister’s. The big move was supposed to be to Montana where they both live. How convenient huh? Oh, well, you might be thinking he would just like to be near his family. He hates his family. He only gets along with his twin brother who lives in Kentucky and for those of you who might be geographically challenged like me, that is no where freaking near Montana.

In light of all of this, I told her directly that she would be welcome to come stay with us and we would help her get on her feet. This offer did not come from me but from Chris. I will explain in a later post why this was such a big deal to me. It meant the world for him to offer this.

Back to the song. On Thursday she called and said she had made the decision to come up here. She was walking away from all of it before he could saddle her with all of the problems. I had to agree that this would be best because it will be easier for him and the two boys to take care of everything rather just one little her.

On the way to work after talking to her the song began to play. I had to smile. Until the song stopped midway through it. I stared at the radio and had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew right then that she had changed her mind. I had already promised Chris that I wouldn’t push her to come her, I would simply support what she had decided. No matter how hard it would be.

Sure enough, Friday came along and she called to tell me that he was going to stay long enough to help her get everything in order. I knew it was bull. He was just keeping her there so that he didn’t have to deal with it. As promised however, I let it go and accepted her decision.

Yesterday, on my way to work again, the song came on. This time it played in it’s entirety. I wondered about it all day at work. The decision came down that I would have today off even though I was supposed to work. When I arrived home I found out that she had called and spoken with Chris. She said took half the money out of their bank and told him she was on her way. I called the number she had left and confirmed that she was indeed on her way.

“Here I Go Again”

I do not know how often I will be able to post here while she is here. My family is not aware of my D/s lifestyle and I would prefer that it stayed that way. She will have a job when she arrives as she has arranged for a transfer with her company to here. We thought she would have a car but she called me only a few hours ago to tell me that her fuel pump went out on her car.

Please say lots of prayers for her to arrive safely. Thank all of you for all the love and support you’ve given me, hopefully I will still be able to post on a semi-regular basis.