What does FLR mean to me…

I’ll continue along with answering the question of “What does a FLR mean to me?” It’s one Chloe asked me a few months ago, during a time when we went into some troublesome territory. The answer is not quick, nor easy, nor that concise. So I continue to answer this as I consider it.

One of the things I do in our world is handle our tech. I try to balance our tech life, keep it workable, useful, modern and affordable. Like many, I’ve been seeing and hearing a lot about cell phone providers coming up with new plans and trying to poach other customers to their network. I’ve been watching since Christmas. I’ve also been waiting for Mistress’ “contract” to expire on our plan. Now that we’re both month to month, I looked into the change and hit the stores this weekend. I hit our current provider and one of their competitors. I came back to Chloe with the answers and when she got in from her errands on Saturday, I told her “So, wanna get new phones?” After explaining, we went down, signed the papers, she ordered the phone she wants, which is on its way, but we had to wait for it to ship.

So, I did the research, planned the plan, and organized all of the billing things so that in my world, I’m only about 10% more on my expenses for phone and I included two of the offspring into this plan with better phones.

I will still need to upgrade her phone once it arrives, which is pretty easy. But I’ll make that happen.

So my service for her has been to be aware (constant!), be vigilant to deals (found some!) and suggest changes to how we do all these things. And I think I hit the nail on the head with all of those. This is what she counts on from me. She isn’t a luddite, but she doesn’t want to “worry” about the tech. I’m the one to wrangle all that. And I think I got it right.

Now I just have to have her phone ready, installed, full of her music for her trip upcoming – then I’ll be done with that side of the project. And we should be okay for the next couple years.

The car wash

“I’m going to shower now.”

“But, you’re not clean.”

“No, that’s why I’m going to shower.”

“Wait” he insisted. “You know how when you go to the car wash and they take the sponge or the sprayer and do the mirrors and the back of the car? Just to make sure it gets clean? Because sometimes the machines don’t clean it all properly?”


“Well.” pulls her by the sweatshirt into the bedroom. She smiles. She bends quickly. He pulls down her pants and underwear.

He cleans the back end, just to make sure the car wash has an easy and proper job of things.. She thanks him. He helps strip the rest of her clothes, helps her put on the robe, she walks into the bathroom.

Yeah, that completely happened with no exaggerations.

I love Sundays.

A high point

I have to admit, I have an odd high point from the Dark Odyssey WinterFire event this year.

I’m on the crew for Dark Odyssey. A position that gives me lots of work in a short amount of time but some excellent satisfaction in a job well done, a venue to play as much as I want, and a good chance for service.

This high point of my time came on the last day of the weekend. While the revelries of Sunday night had just wound down and the sun rose over a darkened DC skyline, my alarm went off, waking me for the tear down. I was told I’d end up driving one of the trucks, which brings much of the gear from the DC Hotel to the storage space where we hold Fusion. It’s not a terribly odd thing that I drive a large vehicle, after all, I have a commercial driver’s license and made my “living” at driving buses for a while. I’m comfortable with driving them even in the worst of conditions as I learned to drive 40′ vehicles on snow covered parking lots and roads. But to drive one of the trucks, well, that was special. I mean, this only happens once a year. And one of the drivers is always the crew leader, the other someone who has usually already done it. Or someone that is “not me”. But this year I got the call, thanks to someone else’s business trip.

So, I drove the truck. I didn’t back it into the bay, but I did end up pulling it out and after merely assaulting a garbage can (that can deserved it!!!) on my way out of the slip, the driving was uneventful.

But that’s not the high point. After all, it was a measure of trust I was given and I succeeded, but the high point is after we drove to the drop off. Due to staffing shortages (ask me if you are interested in hard work and DO crew!) I ended up getting to the storage area where we off load. Now, two trucks, two off load points. I had one. With one person. Normally, we have 4 or 5 people. One person packing the storage, one person unloading the truck and a crew between us. But this time, it was the two of us. And we unloaded almost all the truck ourselves. We were sent a couple other folks after we hit about 3/4 of the way in, but we were damn close to done. My partner in crime and I just grinded away on the truck, one piece, one box, one stripper pole, one crate, one futon at a time. Unload, drag, stack. Unload, drag, stack. Lather, rinse, repeat. And we got it done. I appreciated the help of the others once they showed, but I really think we emptied it ourselves.

And this is where it comes down. I get angry at time. I curse in private at people at the office who I end up doing their job for. I mutter. I stew. I dwell. And yet, here I was with 24′ of box truck to unload and it didn’t matter. We unloaded it. We did what we could with the two of us, we got it done.

And at the end of the unloading, I was speaking to “C” – my partner in crime with the truck unloading – and he complimented me on not getting upset over it. And his compliment made me realize that I had, for a time, transcended my anger. I didn’t get bent out of shape. Sure, I thought it would be nice to have some more help, but I knew that the other crew was up unloading the other truck and getting ready for “the lift”, which is a huge job. But I was content to unload, store, just get it done and smile.

A beautiful night as I watched the sunset over camp, storing all the things away until Fusion happens again, clear warm skies, a beautiful time, a good weekend, a rejuvenating weekend and I got complimented on my level headedness. And that let me know I’d had a good weekend and was far more relaxed than when I started. Thanks “C” for the compliment. And thanks to the crew for letting me get it done. And thanks for sending reinforcements at the end. It WAS heartening to have the extra help at the end, to know I wasn’t forgotten.

Crew is a special thing. I miss some of the people I usually see. We work hard together and we play hard together. But we are a family that gets the job done and then we all go of together and stuff our faces with chinese food. And we watch out for each other.

Of all the play, all the fun, all the joy I saw at camp, the notice of my being chill under the auspice of doing a huge effort with minimal help was one of the best things. I’m happy to have had the opportunity.

Thanks, all for a wonderful hotel “camp”.

Draw blood

A shoulder, caned.

A shoulder, caned.

The other day she was abusing me beautifully. She caned my ass, my thighs, my back, my shoulder, even my cock. There was plenty of pain and discomfort to go around. She broke the skin in a few spots, happy with herself to see blood seeping from my skin. A few days later, I felt the raised wounds, now covered in a tiny thin scab. It reminded me of our time together, her abusing me, shoving a plug up my ass and then demanding I fuck her. I smile at the recollection.

I am surprised that the skin kept itself as long as it did, still recovering from the wound, the blood.

Safe work attire

Friday had me heading to work wearing my usual casual attire. Yes, we actually do relax on Friday. That doesn’t mean we go from ties to shorts, but it does usually mean jeans for me. But this week, I had to really check the v-neck shirt I was wearing to make sure the cane marks were covered. They were, barely, but I was aware of the possibility that someone would see.

She had caned my ass, thighs, chest, back and even her cock. I’m not sure what got into her wanting to cause me such pain, but… I’m happy for it. Perhaps it was just the perfect alignment of a roommate saying “I won’t be back tonight… ” and another roommate headed to the graveyard shift… and her telling me after these two people left “You should probably be naked now.” And I was naked. And she took me to the bed room where she had me clean her, then she beat me, used me, fucked me, rode me, then took my deep into her in the “L” position, where we both were afforded very big and beautiful orgasms simultaneously. That’s rare for us. And of course, there was the obligatory cleanup, which I was happy to perform.

But then she warned me to dress carefully Friday morning, as I had welts all over. “I hope you’re not planning to swim this weekend… ” – which is a possibility any weekend I have my kids – because even winter isn’t a reason to NOT swim someplace… but that won’t be happening, obviously. ;)

So, it was a damn good week. Let’s hear it for communicative roommates that leave for the night. For easy access to canes. For well placed lube locations that are always able to help insert something into a willing bottom’s bum. And a beautiful and sexy Mistress to take all these pieces, orchestrate them together and build a symphony of our bodies.

Lucky dog

This morning, I was awakened by the pull of my collar, dragging my head to the edge of the bed. There, my Mistress pushed my head down, under her ass, spread her thighs and enveloped me in her pussy. She wriggled, adjusted and moved until she was confident that she had sealed off all the air from my mouth and nose. I licked tentatively at her pussy, but soon, in a sleepy state of waking to begin with, my brain must have thought it was a dream and I found myself sliding away from pussy licking and into dozing. This was, of course, a mistake, as this “dream” I thought I was having was not a dream, but it was very real. And the oxygen not coming to my brain was also very real. And the relaxation I was feeling in drowsy state soon made me, involuntarily, thrash my head which freed me from my prison for enough time to find oxygen again. Now recovered, she did it again, cutting off my oxygen, smothering me with her pussy and ass, the faint scent of Irish Spring and her essence in my nostrils. “Good boy… ” I heard.

I again licked tentatively and this time, voluntarily gave in. I stopped licking, I relaxed and waited to sleep under her darkness. Again, and this time against my own wishes, my body involuntarily thrashed, rousing me, giving me oxygen and I was fully aware again.

She re-positioned this time, now with her ass closer to my tongue and I felt her pussy pushing. Then I felt the warm trickle as she marked my forehead and eyes. I quickly moved my face to cover her mound and be able to take her piss, but she had finished, just marking me for the morning, a small and concise stream, enough to have her let me know what my place is.

She left her perch upon my face and moved around the bed. Finding my cock rock hard, she took it briefly into her mouth to make it wet, then climbed upon me, taking me deep and riding me hard. I clenched my eyelids, trying to prevent the piss from getting directly into my eyes and enjoyed her riding me. She rode hard for a while and I was able to keep up until she started speaking to me. “Good fuck toy!” and “What a good boy.” Her words, her voice, rose me to a boiling point quickly.

“Close!” I uttered plaintively.

“No, no cumming pup. I bet you’re glad to be unlocked, but it won’t be for long. You’re getting locked back up again soon.” I had been locked for three days this week.

“STOP!” I could hear her smiling as she stopped. She teased me to the edge several more times by slowly riding her cock, then climbed off and I could hear her getting her clothes on. I rose, felt my way across the room, blind, to my towel where I dabbed at my eyes. I then fell to my knees naked in front of her, now partially clothed. I kissed her feet. She reached down and let her finger graze my asshole, pressing gently at it. I kissed her feet more and she spanked me, then moved away from my prostrate form to get the rest of her clothes on. I rose, awakened, eyes open, put on my robe and headed for the coffee pot.

Yes, great morning. Absolutely. Charmed, I am.