sista pengarna den här månaden gick till ett kit med Photopearls. Vad mitt fösta motiv blir får ni snart se, det tar TID att få till en hel tavla

Nu har jag gjort det igen! Spenderat en halv förmögenhet på pärlor… Helt sjukt, men väldigt sant. (Det var hur som helst rätt länge sen sist så jag kanske inte behöver ha så dåligt samvete trots allt?) En del kommer gå till försäljning, annat ska bli julklappar…och rätt mycket kommer nog stanna hos mig.

Jag är en extremt otrogen kund men ett av de ställen jag återkommer till är Pagoni. Ett Ö-viksföretag med riktigt hyggligt sortiment och anständiga priser på det mesta samt fri frakt. Jag passar oftast på att handla direkt i butiken men den här gången blev det via nätet. För den som orkar göra sig besväret är Tradera annars ett hett tips, men där får man ju sällan tag i allt man söker på ett och samma ställe.

Jag har planer på ytterligare “investeringar” på pysselfronten, även det rörande smycken, inom en vecka eller två. Trendigt och personligt, mer säger jag inte men jag återkommer när jag har något att visa upp och om det blir lyckat kommer det att finnas grejer till försäljning kring 1:a-2:a advent ungefär…

Håll utkik!

De är små och söta och pilliga att göra.Inte något jag göra så ofta med andra ord.

♥

De ligger i min hand.

!!!THANKS EVERYONE!!!

xoxo FUN TIMES xoxo

instant photos by CARO

I vissa fall behövs det varken en sprillans ny produkt eller ny historia att berätta. Ibland krävs det bara en ny känsla, ett nytt utseende och att sedan packa om det. Det kan låta slött men ifall du bara ger det den respekt och omtanke som den gamla produkten förtjänar, så kan du öppna upp en ny dimension.

På så sätt förstärker du både det gamla märket och får njuta av något som på många sätt är någonting nytt och unikt. Denna kvinna hade passionen och en idé som i samklang med tidigare utgivet material fick ett fantastiskt resultat. Carolina Wallin Pérez gör light-jazz av Kent. Tack för det.

Spotify

Tack för påminnelsen om hennes existens Sofie.

Jag har länge varit sugen på att göra egna smycken, typ halsband och armband. Jag vill jobba med läderband, pärlor, silverplattor mm Har letat på nätet efter bla bokstavsstansar och hittade några på Clas Ohlsson men vet inte om de är bra? Har även letat efter en bra sida där man kan köpa billiga, bra smyckes saker, som stenar, länkar och sliverringar. Någon som kan tipsa om en bra, prisvärd sida?

De pratades pärlplattor på radion idag.

Något som Gud skapade på den 8:e dagen (ja nån gammal gubbe var det iallafall) för att sysselsätta gamla människor och sen snabbt blev dagisbarnens favoritsysselsättning.

In my fucking dreams att det är dagisbarnens favvosysselsättning, ja inte var det då min favoritlek på lekis. Har aldrig lyckas få ihop en hel pärlplatta, inte ett endaste litet grytunderlägg har jag stoltserat med hem till mamma. Jag är en pärlplattelooser. Tålamod är inte min grej och han sa det på radion idag – att det krävs mycket tålamod.

Äh, det finns andra grejer att pula med.

Men oj så snyggt!! säger jag ironiskt fast jag egentligen kanske bara är avis?!

popteen gyaru bible?

popteen x hello kitty

paris more gyaru or nicole?

pullip x hello kitty

Hello Kitty’s Beauty Parlor is tomorrow!

i’ve never tried gyaru so I’m excited!

just be super girly and over accessorize!

xoxo see you tomorrow xoxo

THE EVENT IS FREE!

Below are the links to book the gyaru MAKEUP and HAIR appointments.  Please arrive well before your appointment time.

1/2 hr MAKEUP APPOINTMENTS (16 available – SOLD OUT!)

1/2 hr HAIR APPOINTMENTS (30 available – almost SOLD OUT)

DECORATIVE NAILS – no appointment necessary
glue-on and press-on 3D nail art just like the Gyaru gals! (while supplies last!)
get them glued on at the event by nail salon professionals if you wish!

the flyer is so cute!!! look at all of them holding their dollies!!!!

i know NOTHING about 3D nails. the most i have ever done is a french manicure or my typical “teen angst” black nails. In theory, I would love to have crazy Japanese 3D nails every day but my job involves a lot of glove wearing so anything 3d would not be practical. sigh. which is why these SANRIO press-on nails are GREAT…. they will be on sale at the HELLO KITTY BEAUTY PARLOR event 11/11…. they are practically SOLD OUT in LA… Get them at the event while supplies last!

here are some more cute ones i saw on the internetsssss.

Hello Kitty has to get all primped up for her weekend of closing events and parties for her 35th Anniversary.
Get ready with her gyaru style on Wednesday November 11th from 7-11pm @ Royal/T!

MAKEOVERS by professional hair/makeup artists:
Christine Nguyen, Christian Bier and Sally Wang
DECORATIVE NAILS 3D/acrylic/gel
GYARU SLIDESHOW by Japanologist Prof. Jordan A Yamaji Smith
DJ JASON71 from eskimohunter and dead man’s bones
FUJI INSTAX Hello Kitty film and photos with hello kitty herself!!

reservations for hair/makeup/nail appointments required prior to Nov 11th.  limited tickets available soon on www.brownpapertickets.com
official event flyer from Sanrio coming soon…
check back for more details…

Beauty Parlour
Face Wash, Fruit Face Shell, Denium Shave, Hair Cutting, Face Masaj, Head Masaj, Shaca B*tch, Hair Stightling, Hair Colour

You’ve gotta love a sampler platter like this.

Submitted by: dunno source via Engrish Funny Submissions

Ja, vem har sagt att pärlplattor måste vara gulliga…

One night I’m chilling around the way in Chinatown, ran into something I passed by for years, and not notice until now. Man, there is nothing like good signage that gets the point across without over emphasizing. I bring to you, the subliminal massage parlor. haha

Sagor för barnen som är som du
om en tunnel vid ljusets slut
Jag är din vän och vi lär oss av varann
det är ett av skälen
Ge dom ett finger och värm min hand
i ett iskallt IKEA-land
Du är min vän och vi lär oss av varann
bara ett av skälen

Så snurra min jord igen
Radion spelar vår sång
Stockholm ligger öde och världen håller andan
vilken färg har själen
Snurra min jord igen
För allt vi drömde en gång
Allt som du gör blir till pärlor på min panna
vilken färg har själen älskling

…

“Ett iskallt IKEA-land”. Textraden från första versen i Kents låt “Pärlor” som knappast har gått många svenskar förbi. Låten är en kändis från albumet Vapen & Ammunition från 2002.

Än en gång återkommer jag till ämnet covers, nu har en ung kvinna vid namn Carolina Wallin Pérez bestämt sig för att göra en egen tolkning av Pärlor. Och jag säger det direkt: kudos till henne för att hon vågat ge sig på Jocke Bergs vemodiga, svåra texter. Jag kan tänka mig att det lätt skulle kunna bli pannkaka av alltihopa, för Kents texter är inte de lättaste. Det kan många gånger vara svårt att förstå vad som egentligen menas. Men Carolina har lyckats bra. Underbart bra. Hon har lyckats förvandlat Kents “Pärlor” till Carolinas “Pärlor”. Hon har (med hälp av jocke Bergs texter då) skapat en själslig musik-orgasm, en våg av himmelskt välbehag sköljer över en. Folk kallar Kent för ett depparband, men jag håller inte med. Pärlor, oavsett om det är Kents Pärlor eller Carolinas Pärlor är en ljudvåg av melankoli och vemod, man blir sentimental. Men, åtminstone jag, blir också glad. Inte glad som man blir av glad-pop/-rock men glad på ett sentimentalt sätt. Carolina har lyckats med bedriften att behålla det magiska i texten men ändå gjort något eget av det. Det är musik som får en att uppskatta all ljuvlig musik ännu mer och som mer eller mindre frivilligt får en att dumförklara och nedvärdera Måns Zelmerlöv, Sarah Dawn Finer och allt var Rix FM-pop heter. Kents musik  är inte det mesta unika som finns, men det berör, något som inte Darin lyckats med än.

Hon har inte bara tolkat Pärlor utan också låten Ingenting, och även denna har hon lyckats göra till sin egen. Carolinas Ingenting är en mer jazzig, vis-aktig version. Carolinas Ingetning är en rökig låt med lång eftersmak, om man får använda sig av Whisky-termer. Inte utan anledning ser jag fram emot morgondagen, 28 oktober. Då släpper Carolina Wallin Pérez Pärlor och Svin, ett coveralbum med några av Kents låtar genom tiderna.
Så snurra min jord igen, jag längar till en spännande musikupplevelse.

Carolina Wallin Pérez på iTunes
Carolina Wallin Pérez på Spotify

When you decide to have your tattoo, you know where to go to: to the best tattoo artist who works in the most reputable tattoo shop. But what are the factors that you need to look for in a tattoo parlor? Here are some tips to spot for what’s hot and what’s hot:

1. Make sure the artist is wearing some gloves. He can be the best tattoo artist in the world, but if he doesn’t wear a glove, it only means he doesn’t care about hygiene. Remember, your skin gets punctured, which means you’re susceptible to get bacteria along the way. It will further complicate if your tattoo artist has dirty hands.

2. Check the needles. Have you heard of AIDS? Even if you’re in a so-called reputable tattoo shop or parlor, you can still get this much-dreaded disease. How? Through the needles that they’re using. There is a huge possibility that the liquid containing the virus will be injected into your skin. That’s why you have to ensure that before the start of the tattoo process, the needles that are going to be used are brand-new, not used and not even just cleaned. Most of all, see to it that that tattoo artist will throw the needles after to make sure that he doesn’t get to use it to somebody else.

3. A reputable tattoo shop should be cleaned. There are too many people who believe that an artistic person doesn’t really mind cleaning his surroundings. After all, that’s how he gets to express his creative side. However, it shouldn’t be used as an excuse especially when you’re talking about tattooing. So before you decide to even have yourself tattooed with the best tattoo artist, everything should be spic and span. The countertops should be free of dust. Jewelry, bracelets, and rings should be put away particularly in the working area. Moreover, there must be a designated bin for the needles, ink cups, and other types of trash. There should be a sink where you can wash your tattoo after as well as a changing or dressing room.

4. Look for recommendations. With due diligence, you can definitely find the right tattoo parlor for you. You can look for their shops in the yellow pages, in your local daily, or even in the World Wide Web. However, doing this can be taxing. To save you time, you can simply ask for some recommendations from your friends and even family members. Surely, they wouldn’t get you someone who can not do the work.

5. Check your state laws. Laws vary from state to state. Before you get your tattoo from the best tattoo artist, it’s advisable to double-check the rules that govern tattoo parlor and shops. Perhaps they’re asking them to get their own licenses before they can operate their business. You can make use of this as your own guideline in determining whether it’s a reputable tattoo shop or not.

It pays to make a thorough research first when it comes to searching for the best tattoo artist or the most reputable tattoo parlor.

As promised, here is the second part of Sexual Entity:

Mistress moves away.  My covered eyes follow her.  She stops near the table.

“Come here, mel.”

I crawl on my hands and knees to her voice.  My vibrating pussy leaves a moist trail down both of my thighs.  The act of crawling starts another stretch deep within me.  Few things make me come faster than crawling to my Owner.  Few things depict my natural role as eloquently as going to my Mistress on my hands and knees.  If she would let me, I would stay at her feet always.

I bite my lip and my body quivers as I near her.  My head bumps against her leg and I lean into her as I orgasm again.

Mistress pets my head until I am calm.  Unlike her other slaves, I am not required to request permission to come.  Mistress would not have time for that.  My orgasms come too frequently when I am in her presence.

Mistress guides me to my right with a gentle press of her hand.

“Up on your knees, mel.  I want you to clean Denny’s sac with your mouth.  I want you to do a thorough job.”

I rise up on my knees and feel my way to Denny’s balls.  I lick and suck as Mistress ordered me to.  I listen to the sounds of her clipping Denny’s nipples.  I hear vibrators.  Denny squirms and whimpers.

Mistress orders Denny to open his mouth.  I recognize the sound of Mistress’s strap-on filling Denny’s mouth.  I suck harder and squirm, too.  My holes are jealous.  They stretch and throb.  I make more noise as I suck.  Mistress doesn’t know it but my performance is a show.  I want to be her only holes.  I do what she orders, hoping that will be my reward.

“mel, come to me.”

I crawl to the other end of the table.  I bump into a wooden leg before I find Mistress.  She removes my blindfold then climbs onto the table.  Her strap-on never leaves Denny’s mouth.  She straddles him, fucking his face.

“mel, you know where your tongue belongs.”

I dive into Mistress’s pussy from behind.  I lick her clit and bury my nose deep within her moistness.  I kiss her juices into my mouth with loud, slurping pops.  Her taste is warm and tangy.  My tongue flicks hard against her clit then joins my nose deep inside of her.  I breathe only when necessary and then through my mouth.  Mistress allows me this honor so rarely I do not want to waste a moment on something as trivial as oxygen.  I breathe deeply and feel the soft, pillowy flesh filling my mouth and nostrils.  I forget that my purpose is to please Mistress and I care only about getting as much of her as I can.

Mistress feels this.  She knows it.  She orders me away.

“Stand in the doorway, mel.”

Dizzy from her scent, her juices covering my face, I walk unsteadily to the hallway entrance.  Afraid I have displeased my Mistress, I close my eyes, hang my head and wait.  I try not to come.  The juice from my pussy tickles me as it runs down my thighs but I dare not move.

Mistress pulls her cock from Denny’s mouth.  It pops free.  He is as reluctant as I am to give up anything of Mistress’s.

Mistress comes to me.  I open my eyes but keep them lowered.  Her gorgeous breasts are in front of me.  One nipple is exposed.  Plump, luscious, mouthwatering.  Few garments can restrain Mistress’s glorious body.  It demands to be seen.

I lick my lips and sway towards Mistress.  As always, I have no control when my body is near her.  It moves to her instinctively, as all things do when seeking sustenance.  Mistress is the universe and my soul requires her.

She touches my face and I jerk violently.  My head falls back and I moan.  She allows me to lean against her and I twist and whimper as a small orgasm flows through me.

Perhaps these are not orgasms.  Maybe I am simply breathing–oxygen in, oxygen out.  Maybe it is merely the blood coursing through my veins that I feel.  I only know that with Mistress, all is sex.  All is arousal.  When I am with her, every drop of fluid in my body, whether it be blood, saliva or urine, ends up in my pussy, exploding into cum and delivering me to bliss.

Mistress whispers to me, her velvet voice caressing my ear.

“You know what you did, don’t you, baby?”

I twist hard again.  Baby.  She called me baby.  I nod, unable to speak as I fight the stretch connecting my cunt to my nipples.

“You forgot what you are, didn’t you?”

I whimper and nod again.  My head is against her shoulder and even in my current state, my mouth yearns for her nipple.  I drop towards it but pull back.  What ecstatic torture this discipline of temptation and denial.

“You were pleasing yourself, weren’t you, mel?  You weren’t thinking about pleasing me.”

I manage a barely audible, “No, ma’am,” before another orgasm takes control.

“What are you, mel?”

“A sexual entity, Mistress.”  It is a whisper.  A whimpered, tortured whisper.

“What is your purpose?”

“To please you, Mistress.”

She kisses me lightly on the cheek.

“Go to the dungeon, mel, and assume the position on the horse.  I’ll be in shortly to administer your punishment.”

My legs barely carry me as I wobble down the hallway to the dungeon.  Punishment, reward, temptation, denial, pain, pleasure, breathing, orgasms.  Indistinguishable concepts that all mean one thing.  Servitude.  I belong to Mistress and I exist to serve and I feel whole as I make my way to the dungeon.  I feel free and elated and so fucking aroused that I come again.

I assume the position on the horse–stomach and chest flat on the padded top, knees in the cubbies and holes in the air.

Mistress leaves me for an eternity.  I hear Denny’s ecstatic moans in the other room as his purpose is fulfilled.  I chant “sexual entity” in my brain and try not to get jealous, but I can control it no longer and the thought screams through my head, “Why is he having all the fun?”

I calm myself and think submissive thoughts.  I must be prepared for any punishment Mistress might choose.  Perhaps this is my punishment–to listen to another slave getting what I want.  I start to come.  Punishment, reward, temptation, denial.  There are no boundaries in this universe of Mistress.  Everything makes me come.

By the time Mistress leads Denny to the dungeon, I am almost sliding off the horse I am so wet and so anxious.

Mistress yanks out my vibrating plug without warning.  I yelp.  I’d forgotten it was in there it had become such a part of me.  I feel empty.  My ass wiggles towards Mistress, wanting to be refilled.  I whimper.

“mel forgot her place earlier, Denny.  Like you, she exists to please me, but she wanted to pleasure herself instead.  She needs to be reminded that what she wants is not important.  You understand that, don’t you, Denny?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I think she needs to be reminded . . . ”

Mistress’s hand lands hard on my ass.  The surprise and the pain jolt me forward.

“ . . . with a spanking.”

Mistress’s hand finds a different spot on my ass with every blow.  The stings grow stronger.  The pain nears unbearable.  The orgasms come non-stop.

Mistress suddenly ceases.  The heat from my ass crawls up my body and tingles my scalp.  Tears and saliva stain my face and the padding beneath me.  My knuckles burn from clutching the legs of the horse.  Through my pain and my bliss I manage to utter one word.

“More.”

“What did you say?”

Mistress’s voice is angry but I feel her smile.

“More, Mistress.  Please.”  Knowing I have pleased her gives me strength.  “Please, Mistress.  More.”

Her hand runs so gently and so softly across my fiery ass that I cry , then the spanking resumes.  I squirm and bounce and call out her name.  The pain lifts me and engulfs me and I feel myself floating.  It becomes unrecognizable as pain and it takes on a different form.  I can not identify it.  I have never been able to identify it but I have learned that this is the only universe where it exists.

My brain tells my mouth to say “mercy”, the word Mistress has given me to protect myself, but before the word comes out, Mistress stops.  Mistress always knows.

I tremble from euphoric shock. I notice odd things, like the shape of my tears as they inch from the corners of my eyes, or the sound of Mistress’s breathing.  She is talking–I hear her voice–but the words are so distant.  It’s her breathing I hear clearly.  Her heartbeat.  Her words are not as important to me at this moment as simply knowing that she is alive.  That she is okay.  That I still belong to her.

I feel calm.

Through the fog I realize Mistress is straddling my ass.  Again, I hear her words in the distance.  They speak of property.  Her heartbeat throbs soothingly in my head.

Wetness hits my enflamed ass and I cry out.  Mistress is marking me.  Her piss flows over me and into my holes.  My pussy swallows her warm fluid.  I orgasm again and I think of calling for mercy.  My bliss is overwhelming.  I feel almost frightened.

Mistress dismounts and orders Denny to stand behind me.  Mistress puts on her strap-on and stands behind Denny.  Then, in a display of dominance so beautiful and so meaningful it makes me feel powerful, too, Mistress puts Denny on her cock and fucks me with him.  Her cock pierces us both.  I turn to watch in the mirror.  I am reared back, forcing myself farther onto Mistress and her cocks.  Sweat and piss fly from my body and Denny’s, too.  If I squint just right, Denny disappears and I see only Mistress fucking me.

Denny and I come.  He asks for and receives permission first.  I simply come.  Again.  I no longer count and I no longer care.  It could be an orgasm or it could simply be breathing.  I don’t care.  It pleases Mistress and that is all that matters.

Massage can be a fantastic way to relax but some guys may want more. There are four simple rules to getting the  massage you want, you just need to pay attention or you will miss the boat to the voyage of ultimate relaxation.

Sure, it’s easy to get a happy-ending in a dive massage parlor (hand-job-joint) but how does one score that highly sought after release in a legitimate establishment? 

The truth is, it’s easy to find the right masseuse for the job. A dude just needs to know how to ask. Since today is Sexy Monday I’m going to let you  in on safely guarded rules for getting your happy-ending too!

Pay attention to the rules! 

Use the code words.

… happy-ending, special massage, extra, erotic massage, or massage with release.

Look for sexy signals from your masseuse.

she may ask you to take off your towel or give you a hand gesture above your groin. Note: Do not signal her, she signals you!

Remember to tip big and you’ll be remembered!

Most important of all, become a regular customer.

I am still amazed when I run across certain people who think this doesn’t happen in upscale places- regularly. Careful, this could become addicting. Go here and answer 8 simple questions to see if you have an addictive personality.

Warning: Prostitution is illegal, do not solicit it under any circumstances.

 If you liked this post you may like a previous post called Is She a Hooker or a Cop?

Source: Manswers

The Ouzelum or Oozlum bird is a legendary creature found in Australian and British folk tales and legends. Some versions have it that when startled the bird will take off and fly around in ever-decreasing circles until it manages to fly up itself, disappearing completely, which adds to its rarity. Other sources state that the bird flies backwards so that it can admire its own beautiful tail feathers, or because while it does not know where it is going, it likes to know where it has been.

This talk of a bird going backwards when startled reminds me of two differenet domestic breeds of pigeons mainly the parlor tumbler who when scared will flip backwards as in the video below. Another is the Birmingham roller who flips back in the air. Is the Oozlum bird a pigeon? The parlor tumbler or parlor roller originated in Scotland and the United States around 1850 or earlier well the birmingham roller who flips while it flies was orginated in England and whose time of origin is unknown. Whose to say what the Oozlum bird is, but I believe it is a parlor roller or birmingham roller, or even one of the ancestors of these domestic breeds after all it had to come from somewhere. So to the ancestor of parlor roller and the birmingham roller the Oozlum.

Sorces

http://www.freebase.com/view/en/oozlum_bird
Encyclopedia of pigeon breeds by Wendell M. Levi

This is a story written by one of my former subs, miss mel. This is part one. If you want to read part two, you’ll have to come back and visit again.

SEXUAL ENTITY

I sit behind darkness, listening.

Mistress moves about, preparing for her guest.  My blindfold keeps me from seeing her but my eyes follow her, nevertheless.  The sounds of leather against leather and leather against flesh help me keep track of her.  Her scent leads me to her when she does not move.

She passes me and her fingertips trail over my clipped nipples.  I gasp and arch my back.  Juice dribbles from my cunt, the vibrating plug embedded in it keeping it wet and ready for the use it will soon receive.

Mistress likes her holes sopping.  She likes spit dripping from cock-plugged mouths, juice running from pussies and lube oozing from asses.  She likes the wet sound of sucking and fucking, the gurgled moans from mouths filled with flesh, and the slick look of bodies covered with sweat.  Mistress likes passion and she likes the fluid evidence which passion leaves behind.

I moan from the thought of it and my body twists against my restraints.  A stretch in my cunt makes me bite my lip.  An orgasm begins.  I try to stop it; the guest will arrive soon and Mistress wants me still.  She has posed me exactly how she wants me and I must not disturb that.

She dressed me in black today–a fishnet body stocking with the crotch cut open.  My breasts are on display–squeezed outward by pink tape wrapped above and beneath them.  My nipples are clamped and a chain connects them.  My shoes are pink with high, sharp heels.  My lips are red and my blindfold black.

Mistress has me on a bench in direct view of the doorway.  My wrists are bound and chained to leather straps hanging from the ceiling.  My legs are spread wide with my ankles secured to the bench.  My pussy is open and available for Mistress’s use.  I will be the second thing Mistress’s guest will see when he enters her domain.  The first thing, as always, will be Mistress herself.  Beautiful and commanding.  Seductive and mesmerizing.

The doorbell rings and my Pavlovian pussy salivates.  Feeding time is about to begin.

Mistress bends to me.  I smell her hair.  It is near my lips.  My body sways towards her.  I inhale and fight the urge to kiss her.  Her finger presses against my clit and wipes along my pussy lips.  I moan.  She holds her wet finger under my nose.

“Your cunt is dripping, mel.”

My body jerks.  Her voice penetrates me like a cock.  Cunt, hole, property are all words she uses to fuck me with.  Her voice is like velvet but the words are spoken with a hint of disgust.  Mistress knows what excites me.  Mistress knows how I like to be used.

She stands and I hear her smile.  I don’t know how, but I can hear Mistress’s moods.

When she takes my sight from me, my other senses become amplified.  Every touch is electric, every sound an explosion, every scent and taste a discovery.  From behind my blindfold, Mistress becomes my universe.

She opens the door and invites her guest in.  She orders him to undress.  I know he is in the entry way.  Mistress has probably allowed him a glimpse of me–helpless and exposed and dripping with arousal.  She assists him as he removes his clothing.  She controls him with her voice.

The sounds of undressing stop.  I picture a faceless man, naked, his hands held awkwardly in front of him, his head bowed.  There is no other way to stand before Mistress.  She does not order it; it simply happens–a reflexive response for a submissive standing before one who is truly more dominant.

“Denny, say hello to mel.”

“Hello, mel.”

I try to respond but the stretch in my pussy has reached my nipples and I catch my breath instead.  I twist to the right and bite my lip.

“mel’s holes are here for my use, Denny, just as you are here for my use.  You will put your cock wherever I tell you to . . . in her mouth, in her cunt, in her ass.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Stand over here.”

I hear Denny’s movements, but I can feel Mistress’s.  She is beside me now.  My head inclines her way.  My legs open wider in anticipation and a bubble of pussy juice pops between my swollen lips.

Mistress lowers my arms from above but she leaves them in their restraints.  She orders me to kneel.

I slide off the bench and kneel for my Mistress.

“On your haunches and open your mouth.”

I obey.

“Come here, slave, and feed this hole.”

A cock slides into my mouth.  The rubber taste tells me Mistress is protecting me.  Mistress always protects me.  My pussy stretches again and I whimper around the flesh filling my throat.

Mistress’s hand touches my cheek.  “Good girl, mel.  See how an obedient little slut behaves, Denny?”

I whimper and moan and press my cheek against Mistress’s hand.  Mistress has many slaves but I am her favorite.  I am her pet.

I suck harder to please Mistress.  Denny feels the pleasure but it is for Mistress that I suck.  Denny moans, telling Mistress that I am performing well.  I scoot forward on my knees to swallow Denny further, excited by his sounds.  I must please Mistress.  To please Mistress is why I exist in this darkness behind my blindfold.

Mistress circles her slaves.  Her velvet voice tells us of the use which awaits us.  We are her toys.  We are for her amusement.  Her words fuck me while I suck.  Spankings, floggings and pluggings are promises that pound my holes.  I twist and jerk and call Mistress’s name as I orgasm from the verbal fucking.

Mistress pulls Denny from me.  “Let go of your pacifier, mel.”

I hear her lead Denny to the table.  The zip of bindings being adjusted tells me that my fellow toy is being bound.

Mistress returns to me.  Her thigh presses against my face as she frees my wrists.  Her flesh is so soft I can not keep from kissing it.  I hum with contentment as I rub my face across the tiny wet spot I have left behind.  I must not leave a mark on Mistress but secretly I hope my scent remains.  I want the others to smell me on her.  I want the others to know my status as Mistress’s chosen pet.

End of Part 1

Jag är verkligen inte ett stort fan av dyra kläder. Tvärtom är jag en sådan person som blir riktigt vresig när jag tvingas hosta upp över 259 pix för ett plagg, må det vara ett linne, ett par jeans eller en vinterjacka. Därmed inte sagt att jag inte bryr mig om mode. Vackra blusar och volangkjolar är defenitivt lajbans, gärna också en hatt med flor och ett par svarta näthanskar till. Second hand passar mig därför ypperligt, trots att man ofta tvingas skrubba ganska hårt för att få bort den före detta ägarens spår av, i bästa fall, chocklad- och ketchupkonsumtion. Men det är konfektion till rätt pris och man gör i alla fall ett litet försök till att bidra till en bättre värld.

Men så var det nu Fröken Chanel. Denna fantastiska lilla dam som verkligen gjorde revolution genom att befria 20-talets kvinnor från korsetter och hattar stora som 10 fågelbon på höjden. Vilken kvinna! Om jag ska göra ett undantag från mina principer om lyxkonsumtion och märkesmani, låt det då vara verket av det franska yrvädret.

Fascinerad av damen i svartvitt och med en festlig fredagskänsla i kroppen, beslöt jag och 5 goda vänner därför att gå och se filmen om Cocos liv, Coco avant Chanel. Och som vi njöt. Av fotot, kläderna, musiken, och såklart; av den storslagna lilla Audrey Tautou.

Tack Mademoiselle Chanel för stora pärlor, den lilla svarta och rosetter. Tyvärr är dock grejen att om Keno-Åke inte rullar bollarna djävligt rätt på Gotland (och någon genom en psykos tvingar mig att spela) eller att min chef höjer min lön med ca 900% kommer jag nog aldrig bära någon av dina kreationer. Du kommer dock alltid vara en stor inspirationskälla för mitt snålshoppande på H&M och Myrorna.