It’s been a little while since I posted: long enough, in fact, that I’ve earned myself a spanking. Maybe I’ll film it and post it here. That would be fair, wouldn’t it? It was my intention to do a Thanksgiving post, but holiday posts are always difficult for me because I am busy celebrating and don’t want to tear myself away from festivities to sit in my office and write something. This post, however, got significantly away from me because I’ve been keeping myself as busy as humanly possible recently, although half of it has been with epically fun things. But I’ve started this, so dammit, I’m going to finish it!
Thanksgiving this year was significant for a fistful of reasons. For one, it was Paul’s first Thanksgiving ever, which made it special! It was also our first real holiday together as a couple: we were together on Halloween but I had a horrible ear infection (I know, adults don’t usually get those. Read what you will about me from this, I guess) and we had to spend the night quietly at home. Finally, Thanksgiving was the last day before Paul left to go back to England for a couple of months: he’s gone until February. As such, it was important that we spend lots of positive time together before he left!
Our Thanksgiving was certainly a bit non-traditional. It was our original intention to go to my mom’s house for the holiday, but since Paul had to leave the next day, that was already sort of in question. Then my mom fell and broke her hip, and she’s been in a recovery facility ever since so she didn’t want to have a bunch of people visiting. My mom and I have had a difficult relationship over the years, but it’s been much better recently. That said, she’s had an awful few years. Two years ago last month, my oldest brother passed away from AIDS. Last October, my family home was swept out to sea in Hurricane Sandy and we lost pretty much everything. My mom was displaced and living with friends for over a year. Just as she was getting ready to move into her new house, she fell and broke her hip. Add on top of this the fact that she has Lupus, and it’s remarkable she makes it through the days. Anyway, I decided to go visit her in a more low-key environment later because that worked out much better for everyone. So, on Thanksgiving, Paul was not introduced to the madness of my extended family which meant that no one got ridiculously drunk, no one tried to sell us Avon products, there were no pregnant teenagers, everyone was properly showered, we had one pie instead of eight, nothing was cooked in a coffee can and all persons at the dinner table believed that the Earth rotates around the Sun.
It also meant that we could just be ourselves, and do things the way we pleased to instead of the way we were “supposed to.” This meant that before I even started cooking dinner on Thanksgiving, I had a Final Exam. This started months ago, during our trip to Colorado, with a book about Bears. I’m obsessed with bears. Obsesssssssssssssssssed. I just think that they’re the cutest animal ever. The fact that I visited a bear park on multiple occasions and even got to pet an infant bear cub has only increased my excessive fondness. When we were staying in the mountains, it was my greatest hope that I would encounter a bear (at a safe distance, of course). We never did, although we did see some adorable wild elk with fuzzy, velvety antlers and a couple of gophers/woodchucks/groundhogs/generic small chumbly creatures. In place of a real life bear encounter, Paul bought me a book full of delightful bear photographs and chock full of important facts about my favorite fuzzy friends. When we were apart, I found myself reading it as I fell asleep and remembering our trip together, and soon my trivial and useless bear knowledge was getting excessive. Did you know that baby Black Bears (Ursus americanus) cubs spend up to 60% of their time in trees, and often nap or sleep up there? That some subspecies of the Brown Bear (Ursus arctus) include the Grizzly Bear and the Kodiak Bear? That the darkness of a North American bear’s fur is in direct proportion to the dampness of the climate in which it lives? I was probably insufferable if I got started talking about this. One day, a friend came to visit and brought up the fact that bears can climb trees (HE brought it up!) and I had to sit on my hands and force myself not to turn the next hour into Bearfacts o’clock.
So, it was decided (probably mostly by me, to be honest) that I should have an exam about bears. It would combine my never ending desire to play school with my new found obsession. Paul wrote the test and I studied, taking 12 pages of handwritten notes to review from. On Thanksgiving, I did a last minute cram before I donned a school uniform, got out my pencil case and sat at the kitchen table to write the exam:
Once I had completed a page of short answer questions and written a two page essay about the process of hibernation, Paul took my paper into his study to grade. Giddy from the fun I had with this sort of play, I then put an apron on (yes, right over my uniform!) and started to make dinner. Since there were only two of us, we ended up having a roast chicken instead of a turkey, but I made it with (what I consider) traditional breadcrumb stuffing. I also made mashed potatoes, carrots, corn bread and a from scratch apple pie. It was a feast for the two of us, and everything turned out wonderfully.
As I cooked, in the kitchen of my sweet little house, feeling happy and healthy and safe, I was very aware of how much I had to be grateful for. I live in a place which truly feels like my home and I spend my time with people who love me and with whom I can be myself completely. I have a job which I adore and which allows me to do the things I’m most passionate about while meeting and getting to know lots of new people. The weather is so warm that in November, I was still constantly getting scolded for walking outside without putting on shoes. I have my cats, and they’re adorable and make me happy. I’m in love with someone who loves me back, and who values and respects me and who instead of saying “Stop being so weird, Alex?” takes delight in the things that make me giddy and writes me exams about bears.
In a certain way, all this was bittersweet because the next afternoon, Paul would be leaving for 2+ months, and I certainly had the impulse to be a mopey moper about it, but I kept myself focused on the fact that my life was beyond what had been my wildest dreams and I’m glad for these things. Dinner was lovely, and afterwards, we snuggled for a long time while we digested. Later that evening, it was time for the Spanksgiving part of Thanksgiving. 🙂 By then, my feelings had built up quite a bit, and I felt delicate and vulnerable. It had been Paul’s original intention to have an intense and severe scene that night, addressing some of the issues that had remained written in my book and for which I had yet to be punished. I felt nervous and apprehensive about this, and I guess it showed in my reactions to things, because before I had a chance to bring up how I was feeling, Paul asked me if I still wanted to do a scene.
My initial response was “No, I feel too vulnerable.” This was accompanied by a lot of feelings. Sometimes, submission can be horribly confusing, despite all the time I’ve spent ruminating about it. On one level, I want my Dominant to make the choices about what happens. I’m scared of the accusation of topping from the bottom. I have a fear that expressing my feelings and desires for the way that we play will “ruin” things, that I should accept what I get instead of communicating what I want or need. I also have a tendency to feel embarrassed by my emotions, no matter what they are. None of this stuff is healthy, and I’m not proud to admit it, but these are things that developed in my brain over the past couple of years. As soon as I voiced my opinion, I started to cry and apologize, anxiously hiding my face. Paul pulled me up into his arms and spoke to me soothingly, assuring me that I didn’t need to feel that way and that he never judged me for what I felt or needed. As I tried to calm, I was surprised by how much of a need to cry was left inside of me. “I just feel like I’ll come completely apart,” I confided. After a moment, I added “Maybe I need that.” Ultimately, we came to the conclusion that I did need a hard scene, but not a punitive one, and we decided to do an arbitrary scene.
A bit later, Paul put me over his lap and began to spank me. It was probably not particularly hard, but due to my emotional state, I soon started to cry again. In the middle of it, he paused and asked “Who do you belong to, Alex?” and I melted into a passive and tranquil state. This is something that pretty much always works for me (when playing with someone to whom I belong, of course!) as it makes me feel owned, loved, cared for and treasured while simultaneously making me feel very passive, safe and small. I probably cooed my response.
Shortly after this, I got a caning. The strokes were hard and the cane in question is dense and bitey, and I had little resistance left to offer between my vulnerable state and my heightened feeling of submission. This didn’t mean I took the strokes well, though: I cried and wailed, sometimes sobbing so hard that I made myself cough. At one point, Paul had to pause to give me a cup of water because I think he thought I was choking. When it was finished, I felt warm and swollen, but entirely refreshed (once I cut through the haze of “I can’t brain!” that happens when someone tries to talk to me right after a hard scene). As I curled up on his lap, I knew that everything was going to be okay and that while I’d be inevitably sad and lonely while he was away, that I was always protected and I always belonged. ♥
This post is, as my holiday and special occasion posts tend to be, slightly belated. Oh well! Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Blogland!
St. Patrick’s Day is a holiday that I primarily stopped celebrating after I graduated from college. In Los Angeles, I first lived in an extremely hispanic neighborhood, then in Chinatown. Not a lot of Irish going on in those parts. I also greatly decreased the amount of getting excessively intoxicated that I was up to after graduation, and what kind of fun can be had on St. Patrick’s day without getting totally plastered?
The answer is spanking fun. The whole thing started with a shirt that scotchgrove got me which reads “Spank Me I’m Irish.” To get the question out of the way before I get into it, I’m only a quarter Irish. The rest of me is English, Polish and Panamanian. I’m still Irish enough to get spanked for it, as far as I’m concerned! This is my second spanking related t-shirt. This one, however, is plain looking enough that scotchgrove encouraged me to wear it in public. I set my mind on doing so.
On Friday I had the day off from work. Malignus left me with a list of things to do, which I affirmed that I would accomplish. I then took a nap (because my sleep schedule had remained disturbed) and when I got up and got ready, I decided it would be a good time to take some photos with the t-shirt and a pair of St. Patrick’s Day panties that I picked up. I set up my laptop’s camera and did a mini photoshoot in the bedroom by myself. I then figured out how to make a photo collage online.
Shortly after I completed this, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find the UPS man standing there with a very long box. There aren’t nice things that come in boxes like that. Besides, scotchgrove had been threatening me with more murder-presents (horrible implements as gifts) for a while. The title of this post gives away what was in said long box: it was a sjambok of my very own. It was hard to be appreciative.
Now, as a general rule, I don’t talk about disciplinary things on my blog unless they’re part of a larger point. This is because I don’t want to glorify my bad behavior (or sometimes even share something like that publicly) and because discipline is a very private and personal part of my life. I’m going to deviate from that standard for a bit because this story is entertaining and very worth sharing.
Imagine that you’re a girl in a D/s or DD relationship (perhaps you needn’t imagine at all!). Now imagine that you’ve just received the worst implement imaginable as a gift when you were at home waiting for your partner to return from work. You have a set of things you are expected to get done. What would you do?
If you have half a brain and don’t like getting hit with sjamboks, your response would probably be something along the lines of “get my chores done before doing anything else.”
scotchgrove described the situation the best when I told him ex post facto: “For such a smart girl,” he told me, “you can be pretty stupid sometimes.”
I figured I could spend more time on the internet and talking on the phone and doing other unnecessary stuff before I needed to get everything done. It’s not a good skill to have, but I am kind of a pro at hustling chores out at the last minute.
|That’s pretty much me.|
My confidence got the best of me and I ended up wasting the day away. I was still at the grocery store when Malignus got home from work. Going to said store was the first thing from my list of chores that I had done all day.
On the way home, my brain could pretty much be documented like this:
My powers of deduction and ability to predict events were rather flawless. Upon my return home, I promptly confessed that I had not completed my chores, and Malignus promptly provided me with clearly required discipline using (SURPRISE) my brand new sjambok.
To my credit, I lay still through the approximately 20 strokes I received like a boss. I guess that’s not really to my credit: it’s not that hard to submit to something when you know that you were REALLY dumb and REALLY deserve it.
None the less, I was clearly extremely contrite when my correction was complete:
My sad face didn’t stick around too long. We had a really nice rest of the evening, and I got everything done that I was required and more.
Meanwhile, Heather and I were inspired by my little photoshoot and decided to do something that we’d long talked about but never actually done: start making videos. Heather went out and got us matching green panties. I dug out all our green implements. We both found green t-shirts. We had a plan and we were ready to execute it the next day.
On St. Patrick’s Day proper, we filmed a series of three videos that have our “signature” lighthearted, friendly nature to them. We’re still getting used to making videos, so there are some imperfections, but all in all, I think you’ll enjoy them. Here they are:
I want to add that this is my first experience uploading things on spankingtube. I was pretty intimidated because I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about people being assholes on that site, but so far I can’t complain about how we’ve been received. I’d be down with higher ratings on my videos, but I know that they aren’t perfect either.
There have been a lot of people posting all kinds of romantic and interesting stories about their Valentine’s Day celebrations and spankings and such things. Compared to some, mine was extremely simple. We’re going to celebrate things more this weekend: on Tuesday, Malignus and I both worked evening shifts. Unfortunately, the night before, neither of us got much sleep. Our original plan was to celebrate Valentine’s day earlier in the day before we went to work. I was extremely sleepy when Malignus woke me up, but less so after he gave me a very spontaneous but thorough “wake up caning” with a 1/8″ acrylic cane. Spontaneous spankings are very hard for me to be submissive during, because they go from “I’m doing nothing!” to “I’m getting spanked!” at an extremely high speed and therefore don’t leave me much (any) time to get into a submissive headspace. Still, I did a fairly good job of being still for it. I was wearing my pajamas still when I started getting caned, and about halfway through, Malignus pulled the bottoms and my panties down to cane me on my bare bottom. I rarely ever get bared by someone other than myself, so it had a strong psychological effect on me and brought me into a sort of warmly submissive headspace for the rest of the scene. This is a lot of writing about a very short thing: he caned me at a very fast pace and it didn’t last long at all, but it made me feel happy and loved, and was therefore certainly worth sharing.
After a little while of being awake, we decided that we didn’t want to go out that day after all because we were feeling excessively sleepy. First, though, we spent a little while hanging out in the bedroom and watching TV. We were in high spirits and Malignus was in a creatively sadistic mood. While I was only wearing a t-shirt and panties, he told me to hand him a short cane. He told me that he was going to hit me on the arm with it (he occasionally hits me with little force on my upper arm). I made a scrunchy face but braced myself for this. Instead, he hit me on the front of my thigh. That’s one of his favorite “games”: hitting me where I don’t expect it. Then he hit me on that thigh again. Then he hit me on the other thigh. Then I cried. Then he gave me a few rapid fire strokes on the back of one of my thighs as I was rolling around in pain. This particular cane is one that doesn’t get used as often as others, I think largely because it’s a shorter cane. I rarely ever get caned while OTK (although the first few canings I got, including very extended ones, were done that way) so my two shorter canes get less use than longer, more intimidating looking ones. The one that was selected on Valentine’s Day was an 18″ Tearjerker JR Delrin Cane from Cane-iac. It’s actually one of the first canes that I owned. Scotchgrove purchased it for me for my birthday. It’s one of those things that doesn’t look all that scary when you see it lying there:
Then you get hit with it a few times….
and suddenly it’s very intimidating indeed! The thing that I find the most amazing about this cane is just how much the welts raised after just a few moments:
|Malignus said that it looked like I slept with Wolverine.|
Another interesting thing about it: from time to time, cane strokes will break the skin a tiny bit or leave a little blood blister where the tip hit. For whatever reason, probably something good about the design, this cane just left a larger welt on the tip instead of a cut. That’s much nicer and probably better for people who don’t want to get broken skin. The marks kind of looked like this: •–––. Another nice thing (in this situation) was the fact that it’s a very stingy cane that isn’t particularly weight-bearing. This meant that I didn’t get as crazy of thigh bruising as I did the first time I got my thighs caned (which was with an acrylic cane.) It still hurt. A lot.
Finally, when we were playing around Malignus said something to tease me and I responded with “I’m going to poison your sandwich!” After he finished hitting me with things, he did indeed ask for a sandwich (that’s my usual aftercare: making him a sandwich :P). I had a bunch of kitten stickers left over from making my Valentine’s Day cards for my friends, so I stuck one on the top of the sandwich to be the poison. I felt very clever. Malignus responded by setting the sticker on fire in a candle. SAD FACE!
|You can sort of see the burnt remnants of the sticker.|
After some cuddling, we napped and then went off to work. I spent the rest of the night feeling contented, warm, loved and sore. It was a lovely day indeed. 😀
First item of business: I’m February’s Blog of the Month over on The Spanking Bloggers Network. Thanks to everyone who voted for me! The Spanking Bloggers Network is an awesome thing, and I’m very grateful for it. It brings a lot of traffic and introduces me to new and exciting blogs every time I check it out. If you’re a spanking blogger and not a member of it yet, I urge you to check it out. If you don’t blog, check out the main page for links to other awesome writers on our favorite subject.
Secondly: I’m almost embarrassed to brag about this, but I finally got my driver’s license. I didn’t learn to drive when I was the normal age because my life was in a difficult place at the time. After that, I always lived in large cities and was greatly intimidated by driving in heavy traffic conditions. Finally, out here in South Dakota, I was able to become a confident driver. Once I got ready to take my test, however, things kept going wrong.
The first time I went to take my test, Heather drove me. We arrived and were promptly told that I was not in the computer system to take my test that day. They gave me a different appointment. The second appointment had to be rescheduled, however, because it was for the time when I was in New Jersey for my elder brother’s funeral. On the morning of my third appointment, I got running slightly late because I needed to put air in one of my tires which had gotten a bit low, and I arrived five minutes behind schedule. I was told that I was too late to test. The morning of my fourth appointment, I got a phone call from the DMV saying that all morning tests were cancelled because the Examiner was out sick and they were unable to find a replacement. The morning of my sixth appointment, I woke up to eight inches of freshly falled snow and near white-out conditions. As I was clearing off my car, I got a call that they could not test because of the weather.
The morning of my seventh appointment I was very, very nervous. I’d wanted this for such a long time and all the roadblocks that had been thrown in my face made me almost believe that the Universe had some kind of conscious, malevolent agenda against me (I DID say almost, you know I don’t buy all that metaphysical stuff :P). I got up, got ready and got to the appointment without anything bad happening. They found me in the computer and gave me my paperwork. Finally, I got in the car and started my test. The Examiner was mean. He seriously yelled every time I did anything less than perfectly, and before I started each turn he would say “DO IT PROPERLY THIS TIME!”
Why are mean men always showing up and yelling at me EVERYWHERE I GO?
When we finished the test, he said “did you prepare for this?”
I nearly started to cry. I was so sure I’d failed. I told him I had, indeed, prepared.
“Well you did very bad” he said. I was so upset I didn’t even correct his grammar. He brought me inside and started doing a bunch of paperwork. He didn’t tell me I had passed the test, ever. I only figured it out when he handed me my license. I nearly exploded with relief and excitement. It was magical.
I listened to The Mountain Goats and sang off key way too loudly all the way home.
Malignus was super proud of me, and we’ve basically spent the entire past two days celebrating how awesome I am. He gave me a reward spanking yesterday before we went out, and it was seriously the nicest thing ever. It started with a nice, long warmup that made me smile and practically coo (I try not to do that aloud, of course, because I think spanking a girl until she made happy bird noises might make Malignus explode to death and I don’t want that.) Then he spanked me with a wooden spoon for a while, hard enough to make me cry, but still with a tone of happiness and contentment. When that was finished, he gave me a lovely cooldown with his hand. It was incredibly cozy and happy, and I continued to feel warm and snuggly for the rest of the evening.
After that, we went out to dinner, where I proceeded to get moderately intoxicated from one glass of Sangria, consumed with a meal. SIGH. Being a lightweight is kiiiiiind of embarrassing. The food we ate was super amazing, and I got a tiny pink dessert in a little tea cup. Cute and delicious and full of win. I then went over to some friends’ house and had lots of fun hanging out with them while Malignus went to work. I then went and hung out at his office and ended up getting home at 6:30 in the morning or something. After that, I slept ALL DAY. I know this isn’t something to be proud of, but damn, I’m proud of it. I love sleeping and I don’t care who knows. I seriously slept until it was time to get ready for dinner.
We went out to dinner again, and then to ice cream, and then to a movie. Now I’m home and snuggled up writing. Tomorrow, we’re going to hang out with friends for a Super Bowl party. This weekend is basically full of win.
I didn’t take any photos of my butt for the past several days (GASP?!) but here’s a picture of it after a caning I got last weekend.
Don’t worry: I didn’t get sudden butt death!
I hope your weekend is good, although I bet it isn’t as amazing as mine! 😛
Merry Christmas, everyone! I’m on holiday until the 3rd, which means that I’ll hopefully get a lot written and stored for your enjoyment in the coming weeks. I hope everyone has been enjoying whatever they celebrated.
For my, celebrations began with Malignus’ birthday on the 22nd. HeatherFeather and I had a bunch of fun preparing things: we blew up a billion black and red balloons and filled the house with them, got him some gifts and a cake and made a most delicious dinner. The cake was pretty much the best part, though: it’s so him:
You can see from this photo that another spoon was obtained. That was from HeatherFeather, with the condition that only I get hit with it. Because, you know, THAT’S fair. The spoon is from the same series as Warren, and the couple of whacks I got with it make it obvious that it isn’t going to be my best friend.
On the right side of the table, you’ll see a tube of Capzasin that I bought out of my own free will. Don’t freak out. I’m not insane, I promise.
Well, maybe a little. Or it’s just that whole thing with the lack of self preservation.
Doing that meant a lot for me in terms of submission, because I hate it pretty much more than any other thing. Just say the word and my face gets sad (the other night, I got scrunchy faced over the word “capsized” in a video game :P). That said, I’ve been trying to strike a balance between enjoying the fear that comes with partnering with a sadist and knowing that what happens to me is largely outside of my control and not getting irrationally terrified of anything and creating undue anxiety for myself. My feelings towards Capzasin were way too far over onto the side of irrational fear, and it seemed like an appropriate and beautiful thing to do to give up my protesting and indulgence of fear and take solace in not having control. I even ASKED FOR IT the other night, although I did a horribly pathetic job of it. I was snuggling after a spanking and I wanted to ask, even though I really, really did not want to receive it, just because I wanted to be able to accept it and be relaxed about it. I kept sighing as I tried to and failed, and after prompting I finally got the question out in that dumb, quiet, monotone voice. He said no, which made me incredibly happy. Usually getting myself psyched up over something and having it not happen is displeasing, but this worked out well. I’m hoping that next time it comes up, I’ll be able to remember my active part in things and that doing so will allow me to move more easily into submission. Hopefully someday soon, I’ll be able to ask for unpleasant things in a voice that gives the seriousness due to the situation (that is, not being excessively nonchalant) but which isn’t “um uh excuse me could I please… have that thing?”
I know that some people think that’s torture-horrible and should never be done, but it’s important to remember that, like a lot of things that are truly unpleasant, (like my nylon cane, or my lexan paddle, or thigh spanking at all) it serves a purpose within my relationship and I have, despite my dislike of it, I get something quite noteworthy from it in terms of submission.
Anyway, on Malignus’ birthday he gave us his birthday spankings. I was always pretty sure that those were supposed to be kind of light and fun, but Malignus gave HeatherFeather and I his with an acrylic cane. >_< It was fun, however, because it was the first time that HeatherFeather and I got spanked side by side, and that made the experience far more enjoyable. He did, however, hit me really, really hard 30 times (29 for his birthday, and 1 on my thighs because I said I was “fine” at the end when Heather asked instead of talking about how sore I was :P).
A few minutes later, I somehow got myself into a situation where I had the front of my thighs caned. He’d done it to another one of my friends one time, but never to me (although he’d hit me there with Jenny and lots of times with his hand) and the other day he hit HeatherFeather there twice. Heather had told me to ask him to do it to me, and because I have NO SENSE OF SELF PRESERVATION WHATSOEVER and will always say “Okay!” to something horrible that Malignus wants to do to me for “fun” I agreed and asked him to.
Holy cow, that hurts. The first two were pretty bad, and then I was matched with Heather. Then he asked me if I wanted as many as he’d given my other friend, and I said yes. The next two made me sob. It was incredibly hard to have what was happening be right in front of me: the psychological factor is 99 percent of things for me, and the sight and sound of an implement in motion have been known to make me gasp or cry out even if they never hit me. Knowing that those strokes were destined for a very sensitive part of my body was incrediscary. When those two were done, he asked me if I wanted one more, so I’d have done more than everyone else, which is just mean, because he knew that there’s no way I could say no to that. I had a hard time submitting to that last one, though, especially when he tapped it between two existing welts. I had to hide my face in a pillow. I was disappointed in myself for not being particularly submissive for the last stroke, but I know I’ll have other chances and I can just use that as a push to be awesome in the future.
The marks looked like this when it was over:
That brown bruise is from where he hit me on the inner thigh with a “squirt” cane from Cane-iac a week or so earlier.
The next day, it “bloomed” and looked a lot worse… on one side, that is:
The side where the cane ended was incredibly more sore than the “near” side, which healed up quite nicely. The feeling of unevenness was really weird and awkward. It bothered me so much that I asked Malignus to even things out, but he refused because it amused him on a sadistic level.
I really, really enjoy being a vessel for sadism. I can enjoy playing with tops who are not sadistic as long as they truly love spanking, but there is really nothing that warms my heart more than knowing that something is horrible simply for the purpose of his enjoyment. I know that I sometimes whine and pout about the agony, but it makes me feel loved and it makes me feel like I’m being unabashedly myself. On Christmas Eve, Malignus hit me with a dishtowel (seriously!) in such a way that it made me cry. The absurdity of it was funny, and he was very, very pleased with himself and as I was crying, I felt very loved and like something was extremely right. It’s a very hard thing for me to articulate, so I’ll work on it for another time.
By the end of the week, HeatherFeather had left our apartment, not to return for some time, we celebrated Christmas together and then, on Christmas Day, I flew out to visit my remaining family of origin. I’ll be here until next Tuesday. I had a hard time leaving, because I find my family of origin stressful, it’s a difficult time for them right now to begin with and because, quite frankly, I don’t like leaving Malignus. I am taking a lot of comfort in the fact that when the week is over, I’m going home to him instead of it being that I visit him for a week and then leave. I imagine that coming back after the trip is going to make it feel even more home-like to me, and that’s a very nice idea.
My cousin was recently engaged, but she’s spending the holidays apart from her fiance, as they’re both with their families of origin in different states. She showed off her ring at the dinner table and talked about how she liked having something that came from him and showed his love for her on her body and how it made her never feel without him. While everyone was saying “awww,” I silently lifted the hem of my skirt and gently poked at the welts and bruises on the front of my thigh ;).