I also miss Devonshire. Nice lashing. I had several of her videos, back in the day.
Lovely rope collar/harness
I’d wear this like jewelry for everyone to see
Once again, I’m a sucker for qualitycontrol.cc
Maybe this will stop her sleepwalking.
Spoiler: She did.
This actually dates back a ways, shortly after the last blog entry. Jalan and I had a date. And it’s time for a happy entry.
We planned to go see Iron Man 3. We hadn’t been to a movie since before my health turned, we enjoyed the earlier installments, it looked like fun, and had pretty good word of mouth. That, and I’m a fan of most of the Marvel Studios productions. Off we went, fully expecting to enjoy it, but that I’d be laid up the next day from the strain.
We were too late, and the show was sold out. So we stretched the trip, buying tickets for the next show (about 90 minutes later). We drove across the parking lot (I’ve got my placard) to a steakhouse/grill we hadn’t been to in some time and had a lovely meal — one of the few meals out since my health turned. With permission, I took a 5-Hour Energy at dinner. I normally am not permitted caffeine after 1pm.
Driving back across the parking lot, we made it to the movie and had a good time. We stopped for me to buy her flowers on the way home. I am directed to buy her flowers each month timed to commemorate my collaring, but couldn’t manage in April — first time I’d missed.
By then, I was completely wiped out and we went home to rest. But a few hours later, as we were getting ready for bed, we talked and touched, as we do. Some caressing, a little fondling, a lot of kissing, some squeezing — being close. Then we started settling for sleep, but I reflected, and said, “Ma’am, I think I have at least one spoon left.” We refer often between ourselves to the spoon theory — the original formulation is at http://bit.ly/Y7DGzE .
In response I heard, “Oh, do you?” So then I asked the titular question: “Ma’am, would you please chain me down and fuck me?” Her answer? “Gladly.” And so she did.
It was the second time we’d had sex in a month. Under ordinary circumstances, that’s a slow week for us, but recently there’s been, among other issues, a fear that I’d be breakable — runaway blood clot, any kind of badness — as well as a healthy respect of the fatigue/exhaustion issues.
And the next day? I was tired, but I was not wrecked. I’d known it was going to be worth it, but it was nothing like the cost I’d been expecting. And we had sex!
Since then, we were out for one reason or another almost every day last week, only one of them for a medical appointment. Most of the outings were brief and sedate, but out. And the world didn’t end, I didn’t fall apart, and my mood started to lift. I feel like I’ve finally kicked the exogenous depression from the health issues.
I have to respect the problem, and still need to find out what it is exactly, but I don’t need to be ruled by it.
It’s not such a bad life. And it has sex in it again.
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My cheerleading section on Twitter (thank you!) already has a fair bit of this, but putting it all in one place. The upside is at the bottom of the post
Since the last post, I finally found out what the relevant specialty is. The less-than-ideal part is that it’s neurology. The initial diagnostic procedures were actually fairly clear-cut. There are not many conditions that cause the specific pattern of dysfunction that I show (and, thanks above, ALS does not seem to be among them — that was the terror).
The most likely cause — i.e., the neurologist’s best guess — is a fairly rare, chronic, treatable condition. Caught early enough, the treatment has the potential to restore and maintain what was the patient’s baseline function. Or it might not. No way to tell until we’re into it.
Now, the insurance company gets involved. The definitive test for this condition is very expensive DNA testing, and they won’t pay on just any neurologist’s say-so. I’ve been referred up the chain of subspecialists to somebody very well qualified who’s based about 90 minutes away. Unfortunately, I can’t see him until the end of June. Further unfortunately, the treatments are even more expensive than the testing, and probably would be needed for life, so insurance isn’t going to touch them on speculation.
So the best-case scenario, among the reasonably likely ones, is this: The subspecialist re-affirms the need for the DNA testing. Then the DNA testing takes several weeks to come in, as all DNA labs are chronically backed up. Then the diagnosis is confirmed. Then insurance approves the treatments. Then the treatments begin (which could be done locally). Then the treatments kick in. Then I find out how restorative they are. In other words, September or October to feel better, at best.
Meanwhile, I’m effectively physically disabled. Going downstairs is taxing. Showering is taxing. Driving is verboten. Non-medical traveling, likewise, pretty much. Going out for dinner is exhausting, feeling it into the next day. Going to the office and accomplishing anything is pretty much out of the question (I can still telecommute, fortunately, though at a reduced load — I have about 3-5 hours in a given day of sufficient cognitive clarity before the exhaustion kicks in). I had a four-hour cardiac workup yesterday, just in case, and had to write off both yesterday and today for it. And my health might decline further in these months of waiting. Hey, at least I’ve got the parking permit.
Now the upside. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I will be disabled for at least several months. With the next appointment nearly two months away, I have to. So my perspective is gradually shifting (with nudges from both my conscious intent and Jalan’s help). I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I want my life to look like for the near future, moving away from focusing on what it can no longer look like. Among other things, I haven’t written anything down yet on this vision as the ideas churn, but I’m coping. And accommodating.
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How To find (and catch) a Male Submissive
There are a lot of posts, guides, lists, and how-tosfloating around online telling submissive men…
I mentioned on Twitter that I’ve started listening to podcasts during my extended downtime — particularly those related to sex and/or geekery. @OhioGent was intrigued and asked for a playlist. I figured out how to export one from iTunes: Naga’s podcasts (the format is .xml, but it’s uploaded within a .doc).
I welcome suggestions along the same lines!
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Love this blog — good entry!
Wednesday morning tease and denial.
My physical capacity is back in a gradual (rather than last week’s rapid) decline. I can still shower myself, if I take care of it quickly. I have several diagnostic tests and doctor visits scheduled in the next three days. I start each day with a mild tranquilizer, which helps. As often as not, that’s enough for the day. I’m sleeping long nights, plus naps. Minimal pain. My therapist has suggested he’s willing to make house calls — I’m sure I’ll take him up on within the next couple of weeks.
But all that said, my spirits are up the last couple of days. My ER visit wasn’t intended as a cry for attention, but it seems to have worked as one. It’s accelerating the tests needed and specialists seen.
Jalan is going to be in the room with me for the internist tomorrow. She has a better sense than I do of what the progression is, and has some medical background to know which questions to ask.
I can’t do much other than move between bed, recliner, and bathroom, but we’re catching up on TV-watching (more than I’ve watched in years) and having lots of good snuggling and talking. And the fear’s been in abeyance.
Could be (and has been) worse. Wonderful social support from all directions helps.
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This is, at times, my life.
That one time when She forgot to close the bedroom door all the way.