You know how sometimes you wonder about things and then life dumps something right on your doorstep.

Last night was such a night for Me. I am huge fan of fate anyway so when she does Me the pleasure of reminding Me that it is "not for naught", I am floating for days.

Here are some elements you need to understand before you can comprehend why this was such a moving event. I have a little Maltese puppy named Max. He's the best dog ever. I live in a neighborhood that does not approve of My wife and I living here because we are openly gay. Not one person has ever even introduced themselves and we have lived here over a year. I have recently become extremely fed up with all the Bible thumpers around here going on and on and on about Hurricane Katrina and thinking the way to help these people is to preach to them to have faith instead of giving them some food or clothing.

Those are the main points.

So, last night around 830pm I let my dog out as I do every night for his final preparations of the night. He immediately took off running and disappeared. He never does this. I was calling for him and couldnt find him. I walked up and down the street a little bit but I didnt want to leave my sleeping children alone, so I came back inside. I was chatting with the boi online as she was at work and telling her that I could not believe he had run off. About twenty minutes later, I hear a knock at my door. This is odd because no one ever really comes over to my house uninvited and I dont know anyone from the neighborhood. So I say through the door, "Who is it?"

I hear a voice that says, "My name is Wayne and I am staying with the Johnsons a couple of doors down. They are my cousins."

I am thinking, "I have no idea who you are talking about and why should this warrant me
opening my door?" But on the outside I say, " Uh huh."

"Do you have a little white maltese?"

I open the door as fast as I can and see my little Max safe and sound in this man's arms licking his hand. "Max!"

To make a long story short, Max had run into this man's cousin's backyard where he is staying along with his 7 miniature dogs....everything from Maltese to Shitzu. He is here because he is from New Orleans. He and his husband of 14 years lost their five bedroom Colonial home that they had just finished renevating less than two months ago. They did not have flood insurance as every older person who lived in the neighborhood assured them that it had never flooded. It is now under 20 feet of water. They have one friend who was like a brother to them that has still not been found. He relayed his story to me with tears and laughter. I responded with the same. We stood outside in the Alabama summery night and bonded. It was real. It wasnt the news or some church group knocking on my door. This was a real person who kept stumbling over refferring to himself as "homeless" as if he couldnt quite make himself believe it. He was thrilled to have information on the "gay scene" as small as it is here. This isnt something they mention to you at the aid stations. I invited him to the cookout we are having Saturday and to go out with the boi and I Saturday night.

I hope he comes.

Siren

I got this cute quiz from one of my regular reads Awful Goodness.


I realize the irony of my results. ::chuckles::

The boi has a punishment tonight.

It is not going to be sweet and pleasant. It isnt going to be a long lecture and slow languid spanking. It is going to be the purging "do NOT hold back" kind of experience. She is sitting over there on the couch right now watching a CSI marathon and zoning. I am sitting over here planning what exactly is in store for her tonight. I am thinking about every detail. I am running through each step from lighting to implements. I want to be sure that it starts with sharpness that grabs her attention the same sharp way it gets her attention when I gently take her upper arm and lead her to the bedroom. One perfect smack...perfectly placed that brings that cringe and whimper that begins the letting go.

Then moving into the steady swats that lower her little by little into herself. Into this part she goes willingly. This is the easy part. This is the floating kind of sinking into Mistress' control part. Increasing intensity of the swats will bring the slight panic and struggle. The realness of loss of control. Implements changing and sometimes two different sensations coming in from each side crescendo into the uncontrollable urge to fight the rising emotions....to not be exposed. The urge crawl back into the hiding place where the darkness has built up and push mightly against the door to keep it from pouring out.

Harder. Harder. Whispers. Orders. Control. Harder. Reassure. More. Let go. Harder. Hanging on barely to the edge.

Then sinking hard and fast. This is not the sinking floating. This is just beyond that. Pulling that door open and letting it wash over her? No. Wash over us. Not alone anymore. Down. Harder. Marking. Harder. Mine. Not theirs anymore. Harder.

Over the edge. Past the fast hard fall. Landing softly against Mistress' breast. Nuzzling. Hiding. Making sure. Safe. Loved. Forgiven. Babied. Protected. Cherished. Owned.