OCD list and and whining. FF to Skip

It's not a need today so much as an urge to write. I contemplated making some changes to a previous post. I even contemplated writing chapter 2 of a different previous post but none of those strike me as the right thing to do. I could even go and Google ideas of shit to blog....yeah nope. I think today calls for nothing exciting just a routine emptying of my mind.

• Matty's failure at taking the trash out two days in a row
• He also left the carton of milk sitting on the couch this morning (grr)
• My throat is killing me and I'm pissed
• Phoebe is attempting to draw on the couch with a pencil and tbh I don't care
• I have so much cleaning to do that I want to go back to bed 
• I need to file our taxes oh god
• Matt gets paid today so now i need to figure out bills and rent and groceries and thingss we need and don't need
• oh yay shes moved to walls fml. now to wash the walls.
• I'm cold
• I gotta do my workout thing when kiddo naps otherwise I feel like a failure
• SHES GOT ANOTHER FUCKING PEN

I needed this and for this I have no apologies

My mind isn't churning like is usually is 24/7, in fact that's where I'm concerned. For once my mind has settle on one thought. Why live if your living a restricted life?I could specify and I may still yet, in fact I know I will, and you know who you are.It's harsh, this is harsh but this goes beyond what i can politely grasp and respond to, in fact I feel bad even thinking my thoughts but the fact is they are my thoughts and I have that right.

I'm not sure if I'm baffled or angry or really what i am at this point beyond wanting to say so many things and for once in my lifetime lacking the words to do it.

Introduce back story- I like everyone else had a phase if that's how you would like to see this. I had mine, My dad died, I was being beaten up at school, and at home and by my partner, my life sucked I couldn't function. too many feelings and the only way I had control of  them was to bleed them away. So that's what I did. It's not difficult to dissect some cheap razor from the dollar store for shaving body hair away and instead cut skin apart. The first time was a piece of broken bottle and what can i say it was addicting, it became a ritual when i was too overwhelmed, then it became a weekly things, then a daily thing. And then what was one or two cuts someplace on my arms became and 6 and 12. I couldn't stand the feelings I wanted them to go away and it was becoming apparent to even me that when your dead you don't feel. My last straw was my ex fiance calling off the wedding the day before. I was 17 he was 24. I was dumb and now I am greatful, then i broke, no, broke is too weak a word my whole fucking world gave out from under me and I fell, hard and fast leaving the remaining pieces to fall on top of me, I spent an hour just angrily throwing his shit into garbage bags for the garbage truck, and then I came across his knife. It was blue, just a simple pocket knife nothing fancy but I do know he had just changed the blade on it only a few days prior. It was suiting He caused my world to crash and he would cause my death too, and I don't do things half assed. I cut and kept on cutting slashing any part of my arm i could get at then switching arms, i cut so deep i could press my fingers under the skin and grab at the tendons, after that I don't remember I blacked out on the cold cement floor in the basement, feeling relief that i felt nothing.

Don't worry though i was found i was shipped off to recuperate and when i came home three weeks later I had a whole new outlook, I got help i saw a therapist every single day, my step mother kept anything sharp in her room under lock and key, she monitored my showers/baths under my request. I got better ...mostly sometimes i slipped but when i did i told someone i even started taking my meds two paxils in the morning and two 12 hours later, I was drugged up all the time but i was alive. It took me a year to finally come to the realization the pills were doing what the cutting was it nullified my feelings. So i quit. cold turkey, no meds no drugs no knives and for the first time in three years I was feeling again. The good the bad the everything in between and i finally got it....and to this day i remember my own story what is life without feeling?? why live?? if i don't want to feel i might as well die. and I don't want to die. life isn't amazing life hurts like pouring vodka into an open gaping wound but figuratively that's happened to me so many fucking time that i cant count them on 10 peoples hands. not even close. and i am strong. i am me. i am nothing more and i am also nothing less. I learned to cope, I love and get hurt sometimes I hate and feel regret for it. But in the end I know i am alive i know i am doing more then just living i am existing because i am feeling.

Now that my story is made clear my mind can grasp why i am so offended/or hurt/ or angered or even baffled by the conversation that took place. simply this harsh as it may be if you know when to sever ties and even though you love you still refuse the bad stuff so i ask this ...why are you living why are you breathing why are you in the meanest terms possible wasting space. you say you want to change the world, you say you know yourself better then anyone you say you have come to terms with who you are i call bullshit, no im not whispering it and i'm not praying you will avoid this post i want you to see and you need to see it I'M CALLING TOTAL AND UTTER FUCKING BULLSHIT ON YOU. if you cant accept feelings good and bad then you are no better then i was and i can freely admit someone should have curb stomped my face into oblivion. you can not change the world if you are unwilling to feel the world you are changing. you don't have a fucking clue who you are but you know and i know and i'd say correct me if i'm wrong but i know for a fact im not. your afraid of judgement your afraid of loss and most of all your affraid of people touching that little place in you that hurts the most the one you have under lock and key, your afraid to open yourself up so fucking completely to human kind...your fellow human kind. so open that there is no choice but inevitable pain.
its not wrong...its not right either. someone or something has fucked with you hardcore and its not place to ask who when where what or even why, but you owe it to yourself to deal with it. or your no better then dead.

For my what if man

Are you a what if kind of person.. if you are have I got some questions for you.

What if I was there in your bed?
What if I wanted to fuck you senseless?
What if I knew just how to make your whole world spin and your whole body shudder in delight?
You know you want to know more.....I know you want to know more.Don't ask me nicely, beg me sincerely.

Torture for you is simple for me because I have what you want, what you need, what you desire the most, and while the shame of it is , your just out of my reach, the best part is I have the words to make you drool, and while I know in my mind that you think in yours this is just me being a tease, what if...what if this is what I want more then you want it. You will never know. But someday you will see.That I promise.

I can continue with what if, I can play coy and innocent but there is one piece of common knowledge we share, that is not me so here is me, straight forward blunt and not shy about what i want , dominant in what i need. enjoy my dear :)

...............She got down on her knees no kiss, no encouragement, just pure desire and curiosity. She not only needed to know, but she needed to taste. Everyone has their methods, hers was this. There was no hurry, no urgency either, as she unzipped his pants, unbuttoned them, and slipped her small fingers beneath the cloth seeking the increasingly swelling member of her need. She was slow in sliding him out of the tangle of cloth , so that by the time his penis was released it was nothing but firm and alert. Glancing up at him briefly for confirmation that he was comfortable she enveloped the very tip of what made him a man between her soft lips, flicking her tongue against the soft flesh before swallowing him deeper into her mouth, tongue caressing every vein, ridge, and crease of him before his penis hit the back of her throat and without a moments hesitation took him beyond that. the movements were the same simple methodical movements of every girl that sucks dick, but to her it was a game, it was pleasurable and as she sucked him deep into her throat and then withdrew slowly to kiss and encircle his tip with her tongue, time and time again, she got wetter, she got hotter and much more bothered, so bothered in fact that it left her with no choice but to slip her own hand into the waistband of her pants fingers creeping, searching out the source of her heat, and the moment her fingers flicked over her clit she moaned, his penis buried deep in her mouth yet again, fingers of one hand slipping into her moistness searching out the one spot that made the whole world okay, and fingers on the other hand wrapped around his base stroking him with firm strokes in time with her mouth. It didnt take long before both hands were working rhythmically and well paced, teasing herself to insanity and him to the place where every guys wants to be and at the same time hates. the point where she had no choice but to pull him out of her mouth slip her fingers out of herself and shove him backwards onto his bed. Keeping her eyes on the man in front of her she stripped away her pants and panties with ease of a well practiced person and she climbed atop him, knees straddling his hips and with one hand she guided him slowly into her, only the tip of him before pulling him out and repeating going a bit father with every time until she was sitting firmly on his lap and he was buried literally balls deep into her and thrusting for more. she lifted herself up one more time before forcefully and sqarely landing her self on his penis thrusting him in as far as he could be and then some. .........


yeah maybe I'll continue this later but this is as far as this girl makes it tonight, or for now <3

A Work In Progress

Chapter 1-Bleeding Through my Fingers

It was late at night and he should never have been there in the first place, I'm not making excuses but it's true, the poor kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was handsome too, which made it all the more a shame but what's done is done and now was not the time for me to become a simpering little girl. I just needed to get my head around this and adjust my plans accordingly.

I dragged the heavy tarp out from the backdoor of the house and to the farthest corner of the fenced in back yard. How cliched, I mean I knew it in my own mind so there's no doubt it's not in yours, but when you've just killed your ex boyfriend what the hell are you supposed to do. I left him laying there in the shadows of the fence and the dark starless sky, and returned to the house for a shovel. I see it in your eyes, you want to know how I knew where a shovel was, because your right this isn't my house but I've been here too many times in the past 6 months to not know where she kept everything.

I returned to the yard and began the tedious chore of digging, I was strong enough for this only because this isn’t the first person I've buried. Which is also how I knew it was so tedious I suppose. I let my arms do the work and I let my mind wander. I was kind of sorry he was dead, but I was mostly sorry she wasn't here to watch me do it. I shook my head, that sounded so informal, you would think I would care about “him” just a little bit more, or have some kind of emotion but I didn't not really. He was a plaything, nothing more and to do him some kind of justice nothing less either.

His name was Jonathan Mercer. He was 22 years old, lived in his parents basement, no siblings, his mom was a closet drunk and his dad was a salesman on a used car lot. He worked part time with his dad, he also delivered pizza every Friday and Saturday night and the rest of the time he was a janitor at the local public school. He didn't have any huge dreams or aspirations, he graduated from high school and that was it for him. He was on a couple sports teams in high school, I only remember that he was never the star player. I didn't know him very well then, he wasn't a loser for sure, he had enough friends and he even had a couple girlfriends. As far as looks he was cute enough I suppose, not my type but that can be explained later. Dishwater blonde hair, cloudy green eyes that looked like he was always high or half dead, just over 6 ft tall, and muscular. Jonathan’s problem was life just wasn't suited to him, which made him perfect for me. I needed someone to be my cover, someone that wouldn't demand a lot of my time or ask to many questions and he never did. He was content to see me 4 or 5 times a week, chat on the phone, maybe catch a movie every now and then, but he never pestered me, until tonight. The poor stupid schmuck, wrong place, wrong time, but i suppose he got what he had been waiting for his whole 22 years, the end came to him. I just helped it along.

I shook my head and glanced up realizing that in my trance, I had stopped digging and sat down with my back pressed to the fence. I moaned softly,remembering the lessons Mistress had taught me out here against this very fence. I could feel every inch of my skin pressed against the rough wood through my tank, I could visualize the splinters and cuts I had gotten that day and I can remember the orgasm she brought me to for enduring that painful lesson silently.

I got up and checked out my handy work, apparently my body knew how to do the job right even though my mind was clearly separated the whole time. The hole in the ground was approximately 4 feet deep and 4 feet long and 2 feet wide. It was perfect. Now it was time for my work to really begin, I got out my tools from a bag i had left only a couple feet away and began the process of separating him limb from body and organs from body and sorting it all into piles, heart, liver, kidneys, and intestines went into a bag and moved back up against the house, limbs were tossed in the hole and and his torso after being basically shredded down to bones went into the hole as well, where I proceeded to fill it in and cover up my tracks so that no one would ever suspect what had taken place here tonight.

After the ground had been returned to a state of normalcy I grabbed my bag of organs and headed in the house and immediately to the bathroom which had been built right off the back door of the house for this purpose alone I suppose. It was all tiled in black tiles, The floor, the walls, even the ceiling was some sort of water resistant material. The one wall was lined with shower heads , and the the other had a couple of hoses. I cleaned myself up sent my clothes down to the incinerator,grabbed a black bathrobe and then left the bathroom and headed for the walk in cooler to toss the bag of organs inside.

What a night, I sighed and shook my head. Mistress leaves and all hell breaks loose. I headed for my room which in a three floor house was on the top floor, in the back right corner. It was decorated in deep purples and blacks. A very dark and ominous room, so to the point that if I were anyone else I would be depressed, and if I was stupid enough to have guests over they would think I was some creepy Gothic subculture follower, which by any means I am not. I am a lot of things, I am sadistic, a killer, an artist of many things, a holder of many pleasures, even a bit of a liar, but to label me into some subculture of generalized society is the fastest way to sign a very certain death certificate with me. I crawled up into my king sized bed and pulled the gauzy curtains around my bed and drifted off to sleep, lacking the person I desired the most, lacking the stimulation I wanted so badly.

Chapter 2- Misbehaving is More Fun

I woke up to see the sun rising and my cell phone playing some obscure song that was just not registering with my mind. I stretched my sleepy limbs out like a kitten, and slithered my way out of bed. First thing was first my phone needed to shut the fuck up. Second thing was to see if Mistress was home yet. I crept out of my room, my bare feet slid silently on the carpet. I grabbed my phone of the ebony coloured dressing table that sat against the wall and hit the dismiss button. And with a sigh gently placed it back down, suppressing the urge to just whip it against a wall. I grabbed my dressing robe from the back of the chair and slipped in, letting the fabric caress my still sleepy and sensitive skin, and headed out of my room and down the hall towards the Mistress’s own room. Her door was still pressed firmly closed but I grabbed the old handle and twisted it while pushing at the door to see if she had it locked or not. It slid open, sure sign right there that she was home.

I glanced around the heavy door and couldn’t tell if Mistress was in her bed or not, so I took a couple of steps into the room when I heard it. “Pandora darling is that you?” She whispered in her deep sleep filled voice.

“Yes Mistress it's me. Shall I leave?” I questioned.

I was afraid since she didn't answer me immediately. I thought for sure she was angry at me for something and that she wouldn't want me anymore. I needed her, I didn't want to be thrown away. All these thoughts were rushing through my mind, but I held my tears at bay.

“Pandy? Did you do something bad last night?” Mistress sounded stern, almost angry but not quite.

I sighed. “Yes Mistress.” There was no point in denying it, if she was questioning me it meant she knew. “There was an accident, but I promise I took care of it and cleaned it up.”

“Of that I have no doubt kitten. Now come and crawl into bed with me. I missed you dearly. You can fill me in after we get re-acquainted, how does that sound?”

I nodded my head yes, I know she couldn't see me but I knew her well enough to know a demand when I heard it, especially form her. She wasn't asking anything of me, that I knew and knew well. I turned around and shut the door behind me before proceeding forward in the enormous space that was her room. When I got to the foot of her bed I let my robe slide from my shoulders to the floor to lay in a dark puddle. I could see her propped up on her elbow watching me. She was so relaxed but I knew better, I knew she was watching me to see if I made any mistakes in the routine that was supposed to take place before I got into her bed. I bowed my head so I was looking at my feet and I stepped lightly around to the side of her bed and placed both hands palm down on the edge, head still bowed. I stood like that for the count of 5 and then whispered two simple words, “I surrender.”

“Yes you do darling, now come into bed,” and with that I did as she demanded and pulled my self up into her bed to kneel beside her hip, head still bowed, eyes never once looking at her, hands clasped in my lap, fingers folded over one another, touching nothing on my own self, save my fists resting mid thigh. I felt her fingers caress me cheek, moving down my neck to my collarbone. She continue this until her fingers were resting on lightly on the top of my clasped hands. With her other hand she reached for my chin and lifted my face, pulling me towards her for a good morning kiss. Gentle at first, and Iwas careful to not get greedy in my kissing. Lips parted, breath coming softly, tongue touching tongue, it felt amazing and I could feel the chills flooding through me. Mistress knew what was happening, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t prevent it, but then again I didn't want to. She removed her hand from my my own clasped fingers slip in between my thighs, parting them just enough to make matters worse for me. She stroked my clit with two fingers and then paused her lips. I moaned in discomfort when she pulled her lips away from mine, and stroked me again gathering the wetness that had accumulated around my rosebud. I tried so very hard to stifle another moan but my body was just not having it, and that’s when Mistress let me have it. With one hand she slapped me so suddenly across the face that i was thrown backwards, and with the other hand she rammed three fingers deep into me.

“Is this what you want you little slut?” She whispered vehemently at me. “You can't control yourself around me can you, you just want to be fucked silly is that it? I go away for two nights and come home to a little girl that can't control her urges!” She was really mad now. There was no use answering her, they were rhetorical questions anyway, this is how it played out usually. Besides I couldn't have spoken if i wanted to, I was focusing with everything I had in me to not come all over my Mistress's hand. She was right, I wanted this so badly, and to deny loving every violent shove of her fingers into me would be to disgrace what she was doing to me.

Finally she pulled her fingers out of me and stroked my cheek with the same juiced up fingers, “Oh love,” she sighed, “The things you do to me, the way you make me feel, come here Pandy, come and make me feel good, do it right,” she promised, “and Mistress will make you feel good to.”

She lay down on her back, and spread her knees apart, so I slipped up between them and placed my hands one on each thing and spread them farther apart as i dipped my face towards her musky scent that drove me so insane. She was already wet from what had transpired so that made things easier for me. I lowered my head into her, and let my tongue do the work, finding her clit stroking it and then slipping in between her pretty pink folds and into the best tasting part of her. I licked her from the inside out and felt her hands twine in my hair and shove my face deeper into her pubic area, my tongue still slipping in and out of her just finding her g-spot and flicking it lightly as she ground herself into my face. She was getting more turned on, it wasnt hard to tell by her breathing, so I took one hand from her things and slipped my index finger into her, locating her g-spot and alternating between tapping and rubbing it. Thats when it happened, as my face was pressed into my Mistress, finger deep in her and tongue flicking and touching everything that tasted of her sweetness. The door bell rang.

It was easy to ignore it, once, twice, thrice. But when it was clear that whoever was downstairs was not going away Mistress pushed my face off her and growled at me. “You little bitch this is your fault, you invited someone here didn't you?” before I had time to protest she continued her tirade, “You were too slow, your horrible at this, I should replace you and get myself a new pet, yes maybe this person at the door can be my new pet.” She smiled at that and then dragged my by my hair over to the wall away from the door and cuffed my wrists to the shackles hanging from the ceiling.

“Be a good pet and wait here Pandy, I may come back for you.” With that my Mistress walked out. With that everything we had known and grown accustomed to was gone.

Memories Hurt

Amazing what a simple conversation and some slightly downtrodden depressing music can do to ones mood. I was okay, I was more then okay I was perfectly amazing...and then all it takes are a few words here or there and plop, there goes that. It`s not easy to think about my past, nor write it and even less to speak it but I feel like every time i tell one more person it hurts that much less in my heart. Losing my dad at 16 hurt, it still does sometimes i pretend it hurts less then i want it too and sometimes I'm not lying when i say it doesn't hurt.  after him dying then life changed doors opened but things got more complicated. i found smoking and drugs and booze i found guys and sex and i found more abuse. no longer at the hands of a parent, but boyfriends. ones that had no problem with hitting me or getting me pregnant at 17 and then making damn sure i miscarried (13 stairs to a concrete floor), no problem raping me,or  making a promise of marriage and fucking the whole town and telling me the day before the wedding. i found razor blades and skin, i found release through a new kind of pain, something that became a daily thing in my downward spiral, my secret, one day it stopped being my secret one day it did go to far one day i almost lost it all. then i dealt with bad family relationships and then more drugs and throw in this mixture of shit no stable home. moving sleeping on the streets bouncing place to place and then factor in the meds. they called them meds i call them more drugs, i was doped to my fucking ear tips with first one drug then another and another each progressively getting higher in dosage till it ended up being paxil, and then that dosage being uped and uped until my entire day was wasted in a haze of fleeting thoughts and nothing concrete. its sad to sit and think these thoughts to relive the shit i dealt with but thats just it i sit here i am here i am me. i fight i am strong and i will make it. not just once or twice but again and again.   

imperfections/flaws/annoyances

It never fails how many blogs I create  and delete. It's really kind of obnoxious, and the worst part is that I used to do the same fucking thing with notebooks. Write on a few pages and destroy the book. I must admit, my mister used to get pretty pissed, actually sad but in all honesty i have far to many annoying traits.

• i grind my teeth when i sleep
• i move furniture around roughly twice a month
• i have to clean from one end of the apartment to the other
• i cant stand crooked-ness
• i change my clothes like 6 times before i pick an outfit, usually the first one
• i ask for an opinion and totally reject it
• i drive super fast and dangerous when i'm pissed off
• when i get mad i tap my fingers together
• i don't do well at  hanging up my clothes
• my daughters clothes have to match
• my outfits have to match my shoes
• i but clothes that i wear once and never again
• i chew my bottom lip when i think to hard
• i start to many "hobbies" and never finish them

1. knitting
2. crochetting
3. braiding
4. half started stories
5. half done paintings
6. i have 12 or more books half read
7. i start baking and get bored shit burns and i leave the dishes everywhere
8. i start on a routine  work out yeahh that never goes more then 2 days

Basically my problem is patience..or a lack thereof,  I am terrible at finishing shit I start but I think its important to recognize ones flaws in order to correct them or at least realize we are not perfect :) so those are my flaws off the top of my head well a very few of them

A bit of ribble rabble and riff raff. Nothing serious

I'm not sure if this blog will have any specific purpose beyond the insanity of a normal person/mother/fiance/daughter/sister/friend and overly empathetic person that listens to everyone and only talks to a few. I'd like to think it has a concept or theme behind it but well I know myself better then anyone and therefor am led to believe that this will be a mass collaboration of thoughts random quotes and pictures and rants and have started stories and poetry that i concoct in whatever spare time I find or time that I finally get tired enough and DEMAND for myself. At any rate if your reading this congratulations for you have probably come across the most unique person you will ever meet, and if randomosity[my word, tyvm] and frequent insanity intrigues you i highly recommend you follow me

xoxox