GAMBLING WITH MY HEALTH... AND HITTING THE JACKPOT!

 I wrote yesterday that in the downtime since my last post in August "I've basically been doing worse, physically and mentally." The word "basically" really does soften the blow there, doesn't it? Jesus Christ, what an understatement!

Since I last checked in to tell you about my health I've suffered three episodes of Hamster Heart (SVT), mini pulmonary embolisms, right side heart failure, sub-COPS level SAT readings, and weeping leg ulcers. I only found out about this today, other than the bouts of Hamster Heart, which are pretty hard to miss, the home had documented that they'd recognised the symptoms but not told me! Not that I could have done anything about it. Apparently I also go cyanose when I roll on to my side. I've graduated from a CPAP to a BIPAP (if you're reading this Vanessa, you called it!) and am also on 2 litres of oxygen for 16 hours a day.

To borrow another famous understatement: I told you I was ill.

Bested only by Leslie Nielsen's "Let 'er rip.

 A few weeks ago I was visited by the mental health team. As I wrote back in March, I had a meeting with them in February and they came up with a bunch of ideas of how to help me in the room, but then sent me a letter saying: "As your current issues with your mental health are based very much on your situation, we are unable to provide any support until you have made steps towards changing your situation. We feel that at this time your needs are most appropriately met by weight management services and we would encourage you to work with them towards discharge from [your care home] and getting back into your own property. At this point if you are still struggling with your mental health, you can be re-referred back into mental health services."

As I wrote in March, this was a soul-crushing denial of help, a cruel Catch-22. It was like a lifeguard refusing to help a drowning man until he demonstrated strong swimming skills. One of the women I saw in February came back again last month, and told me in the room that I seemed a lot more depressed. She wasn't wrong.

Not only had the mental health team passed the buck, but weight management services have not met me either. Every specialist or GP I've met here has come to the home unannounced; they know I'm not going anywhere and that they will need to liaise with staff before meeting me anyway, so I'm always the last to know. Well, round about September my social worker told me that they'd written letters to me but I'd never got back to them. I explained I'd never received them and gave her permission to give them my e-mail so they could get in touch directly. A month later she asked why I hadn't written them back, and I told her I hadn't had any e-mails either, (not even in my spam!). I asked her to tell them to CC her so I would definitely get them, and that was the last I heard of it.

STRICT JULIE WELCHES!

A man goes to visit a psychiatrist, and after a little while the psychiatrist decided to give him a Rorschach test; showing the patient a series of ink blots and asking what he sees in each of them. The patient looks at the first one. "That's a woman on her knees, blowing two guys." He looks at the second. "That's two couples, each having sex in the wheelbarrow position." He looks at the third. "That's five guys in a daisy chain, jerking each other off."

The psychiatrist puts the cards down. "It's obvious to me," he says, " that you have something of a dirty mind."

The patient frowns. "I've got a dirty mind? Come on, doc, you're the one with a drawer full of dirty pictures!"

I was reminded of this little joke when chatting with my friend Julie, of the newly rechristened Strict Julie Spanked! blog. I value our friendship a lot, but we met through unusual circumstances (I commented on her blog with some of the things I would do with her if she were my sub, she told me how gushy her little pussy was getting thinking about it) and our relationship goes through unusual cycles. Specifically, if I go too long without trying to make her knickers fizz then she'll try and provoke me, a little like an infant testing the patience of her caregiver, seeing if they'll carry on allowing the naughty behaviour or if they'll take the child over their knee for a spanking. Once Julie's been put back in her place we're firm friends for a couple of months.

I noticed a couple of these little provocations recently, though maybe I'm reading too much into it? Well, tough luck if I am, Ms Delmar, as you're getting a healthy dose of humiliation regardless!

I should preface this by saying that way back in March Julie posted a story I had written for her on her site, and made a big show explaining exactly how theatrically she had masturbated to it behind her husband's back. I posted my own blog stating that this bragging about cumming to my writing behind David's back seemed sketchy, and if she was going to use me as a secret source of real world pleasure then she should balance the scales with some real world punishment too. Only fair, right?

I knew I was flying close to the Sun, I have no real authority over Julie, and the obvious moral thing would be to confess to her husband exactly what she'd been up to and let him handle it. Still, at this point everyone was acting on the assumption that David doesn't ever read Julie's blog, and it was certainly fun pretending to take her in hand in his absence.

Well, at first she was gung ho to prove that she could take the punishment I'd prescribed for her, but I wasn't surprised when it never actually happened, and eventually she acted as if no deal had been made. Well, no harm, no foul, I never reached out to Julie expecting to have any physical influence over her or to find out about her personal life. The fact she'd decided to cum reading my stuff was amazing all by itself. However, I was a little irked by this little exchange we recently had in the comment section of her blog:

Me: I've just noticed you called me your god friend! I wonder what Dr Freud would say about that! You are absolutely **not** allowed to correct it! ✌

Her: Ohhhhh!

Maybe it's like a God Father. You must now see, as my God Friend, to my moral upbringing.

Me: I think I tried that a couple of times, to minimal results! You realised I have no real power over you, and missed out on a lot of fun! 😜✌

The job sounds like hard work, you're a good person with a big heart but, to paraphrase your post, you're a stubborn little fuck when you want to be! Never dull, though!

Her: "Stubborn" is my super power 😊

Okay, so maybe she had forgotten about our little arrangement in the heat following some ill-thought-out comments she made on an earlier post, and then paid the price for! When I reminded her of my attempt to "see to her moral upbringing" and how dismally I'd failed she brushed it off. Fine. But then she had the audacity to post a blog entry named "Cornertime Pics" that was breathtakingly audacious.

Skipping back to our exchange in March: Julie had read my blog and written a nice lengthy e-mail, starting by suggesting we were "virtual fuck buddies!" She then followed it with this one-liner, dripping in disrespect:

Oh, and I'm supposed to ask you about a punishment?

Well, with that attitude I decided to skip over any thoughts of leniency - reading up on her most recent punishment it doesn't seem to have sunk in that taking her punishments with decorum may earn her a little clemency! I wrote back as follows:

I think you deserve a little punishment, yes.

I think the next time you know your husband is going to be away for a while you should send me a quick email to let me know your punishment is starting. You should spend forty minutes in time-out with your nose against the wall and your arms by your side, one of your dildoes in each hand. Your bare bottom should be on display for the empty room. You can set an alarm for forty minutes to let you know when you're done, and you can spend that time thinking about how bad a spanking you need to administer yourself, now we know you are capable of doing so. You know your limits and what a proper punishment feels like, so you can judge this for yourself.

One you've come out of the corner and given yourself a quick spanking you can e-mail me to let me know you're done and I can give you a couple of quick questions about your punishment so I can gauge how contrite I think you are. I have a notifier set up so I always know when I'm getting e-mails, and I can prioritise your punishment over whatever else I might have going on so David doesn't have to find out, since you kept your pleasure-making a secret from him too.

I think this is firm but fair, and well within your limits. I was obviously playing it up a bit on my blog, but I do feel a little bit uneasy knowing you went to such great lengths to try and impress me, and this will let me know that you genuinely care about my feelings rather than just using me as an excuse to indulge your exhibitionist streak.

I'm aware you have your safewords, and there's nothing to stop you from telling me to fuck off and get over myself, but I have a feeling you'll rise to my challenge.

Let me know if this is acceptable to you, and I'll get to work on that story I thought up as a reward.

What Julie didn't know at the time, and will only find out when reading this, was that I was intending to ask her if she was still horny upon completion of her punishment, and would have told her to rub one out if she was. I'm all heart, that's my problem! As embarrassing as corner time is for her, I thought it would be even worse doing it for nobody's benefit, dildo in each hand, bottom pointed at nobody in particular! I was glad to see she was taking me more seriously when she wrote back:

FORTY FUCKING MINUTES???? Are you FUCKING insanse???? I don't think I've ever really done more than 10 minutes of timeout (I might have exaggerated a bit for my blog...).

Ooooooooohhhhh.

yes sir... it might take a while until I have that much alone time again, what with COVID and all still on. But i will do it (forty FUCKING minutes...)

Ha ha ha! Looks like I'd scored a direct hit! They say when punishing a bratty child with a time out you should give them one minute per year old they are... Seems it works for forty year old troublemakers just as well as five year old ones! Well, like I said, I'm a big softie, so we had the following exchange:

You certainly have exaggerated a bit for your blog, I thought I was letting you off a little easy! You can yellow out a little if you're going to be a big baby about it, but then I'll be expecting a very severe self-spanking, including with the Muskoka paddle you used to pleasure yourself with; and I'm sure that your husband will notice your sore little bottom if that happens. Plus, though I won't share the specifics of your punishment, I'll have to let my readers know that my first punishment was too much for you, and that I had to let you plea down, and I know you don't like people seeing you tap out...

I'll let you decide, but I'm delighted you're taking this seriously.

A big virtual hug for my favourite sub,

Tanks.

Respectfully, but Fuck you, Sir. I'm doing the full 40!

That's my girl! Let's call it forty-one, though, to discourage you from swearing at me.

Phew! Was expecting to have to wash my mouth out with soap for that. 1 minute extra  only. Got off easy!

And that's basically where we left it. I sent her monthly "reminders" that she got less and less interested in. When I warned her I was thinking of spilling the beans about the whole sordid affair and letting my faithful Functionistas know what a big 'fraidy-cat wimp she turned out to be then she wrote me the following:I

I guess my reluctance is more that I feel being put in the corner is a prerogative reserved for my husband, as punishment. Somehow, for me, more intimate than being fucked for fun, you know?

Maybe if you take this angle, explaining my reluctance, it would be ok to give me a well-deserved tease.

Very convenient that she's found a moral philosophy that allows her to be "fucked for fun" and to diddle herself stupid with no comeuppance, elaborately and without her husband's knowledge, but to shy away from making it right! Consider that me administering a "well-deserved tease," and know that I hope she has enjoyed this trip down memory lane.

But why share this now? Well, like I said, not only has she suggested I take a firmer hand in her moral upbringing, but her Cornertime Pics post was ridiculous! In it she had reposted 48 pictures uploaded to another blog, seemingly without any formal consent from those photographed (you'd have thought she'd be more careful after her run in with Miss Chris!) Under each picture she'd written a caption explaining a feeling the picture evoked in her or the larger scene she imagined playing out. She specifically asked readers to pick out their favourites and comment saying why, so I did. I also clarified that one model was not holding something between her thighs as suggested:

33, 25 & 47... You can imagine 47 with her laptop or tablet letting her blog readers know how naughty she's been!

Nothing between 32's thighs, the care instructions are hanging off the back of her panties, has this tripped you up? Don't tell me you cut the care tickets off your garments, I'll have to think of a fitting punishment for you, on behalf of your local dry cleaner!

Laughing at the timings you've prescribed for these poor girls, knowing they would probably break you!

I was more than a little surprised by her response:

25 looks like a British girl. 33 and 47 are being humiliated just like you like them to be. And I'll defer to your expertise on 32, that's a big tag!

Oh I know re the timings. Especially the poor teen I had in the corner all day long.

Let me be perfectly clear as to what had just happened: This bitch had found a site that posts nothing but pictures of adult women experiencing corner time, signed up to it, stolen nearly fifty pictures, uploaded them all to her blog, captioned each and every one, and now she has the nerve to kink-shame me?! Aren't they all being humiliated? Isn't that why your pussy got all tingly staring at them, imagining what could be happening behind the scenes? Sorry doc, but you're the one with the dirty pictures!

I knew this aggression could not stand, and that I would have to embarrass her appropriately once I was in the right mindset. I think I've probably done a good job. Feel free to give her some (harmless, good-natured) razzing in the comments!

And it's absolutely the manufacturer's care label. Maybe they just run smaller in Canada!

Peace!

✌

🎶 OWNER OF A HAMSTER HEART 🎶

Much better than the owner of a lonely heart...

Hi guys! Sorry about the unprecedented amount of time between posts. The Wi-Fi has been prohibitively slow since getting back from hospital. I've actually bought my own mobile broadband router and am waiting for a SIM card to arrive. If you're thinking of buying mobile broadband from an internet service provider, this seems a lot more affordable than essentially renting a hub or a dongle from your ISP, and you can pay as you go rather than locking into a contract. The only catch is that I don't get great signal on my regular phone hear, but it looks like the new provider should have me covered. I'm expecting the SIM tomorrow, so look forward to more regular updates!

I've been waiting to share an excerpt from the exchange I have going with my friend and online playmate Babycakes. We met through r/DirtyPenPals and she is a constant delight! The question was:

Imagine you were offered a deal, some time in your past, with no memory of having made it. A sacrifice for a boon. The sacrifice was your physical health and mobility, all the problems you know all too well.

What was the boon worth that sacrifice?

Heavy stuff! I answered as quickly and honestly as I could, and I want to share my answer here because it concerns you guys, the readers of my little blog! Here's what I came up with:

The knowledge that I could still be relatively happy and keep my sense of humour despite it all. As a kid I was terrified of anything going wrong medically. When I was a child I used to scurry out the room when the theme tune to Casualty started! I fainted after being given injections at school. I got so used to being pricked in hospital that I would basically sleep through it! I even jabbed myself in the stomach at home twice a day for a fortnight. The idea of being homeless terrified me so much I tried to kill myself rather than deal with it. Now it's just a technicality, I never had to rough it on the streets.

I know I complain a lot on my blog, but I like to think I mostly do it in a sardonic fashion. If you took everyone in the privileged first world and measured how well they responded to waking up bedbound with ants crawling on them I think I would handle it way better than most; like, in the top ten percent of reactions. Maybe a little too zen, now that I'm seeing an occupational therapist I'm going to have to insist the home help me out a bit more.

RIP D OF E, BUT WHAT'S IT GOT TO DO WITH ME? PART TWO

Hey there! Regular Functionistas will know that I don’t really make an effort to maintain relationships. My life can be pretty much divided into a series of chapters, and as I move from one stage to the next I pretty much refrain from looking back. I don’t know what happened to anyone I talk about in today’s post after I turned nineteen; I saw some of the guys at a house party/sleepover thrown by another friend during the holidays of my first year of university. I hope they’re all doing well and that life hasn’t been too hard on them.

That being said, after writing yesterday’s post I got to thinking about the worst kids from my Scout troop. I can’t remember the surname of the marine so can’t look up his son. I do remember the name of the cub leader’s son; and was not surprised to learn he’s been given at least four jail sentences, maybe more. He’s been found guilty of drug dealing, robbery, assault, criminal damage and behaving in a racially motivated manner. I was surprised to read his older brother, also in my scout troop and one of the nicer ones, was also sentenced to prison. This was a couple of years ago, he was the same age as I am now. His story sounds weirdly similar to mine, except he was addicted to drugs rather than suffering a physical ailment.

It sounds like he screwed up bad at some point but was given a second chance, working a respectable job for a celebrity chef, but when he was sentenced it said he had no fixed abode, like me, that he’d committed a number of petty thefts, like me, and that he stole mainly from the Co-op, like me! The main difference was that he’s been seen in court more than fifty times and that he was found guilty and sentenced.

This maybe lets you know the sort of shit I was used to dealing with at secondary school and in my extra curricular activities. There really wasn’t anywhere for kids to hang out and be kids - no cinema, skate park, fast food outlets, shopping centre… anywhere normal teens go to socialise. When I started travelling to VIth form I originally kept myself to myself, spending free time in the excellent library. It didn’t take long before I started making friends in class and then being invited to go hang out at the bowling alley, the shops or the local park. It was genuinely a nice surprise to find that I liked just about everyone I met at VIth form and was well liked in return. This was true in my various classes and at DofE, where I didn’t know anyone but found myself in a group of five, ready to fulfil the Expedition requirements of the Gold award.

There was me, Joey, Johnno, Trudge and Bowser. Joey was a farmer’s son. He was originally from out of county but spoke with a broad local accent. The last time I saw him was at that house party; his presence there was awkward as he had lost his job when his employers found images of underage girls on his laptop. He said he was innocent but restored the computer to factory settings and wrote over the hard drive before handing it back. Johnno went to a local secondary school and was pretty popular outside the club, he had a really easy going nature that made him easy to get along with. Trudge was a year older than us and had a mischievous streak; like me he made a lot of jokes and knew just how far to take things without getting into trouble. He flirted a lot with one of the supervisors; a girl named Jess that could only have been a couple of years older than us. Finally there was Bowser, another local boy I’ve mentioned before. He went do a different local school than Johnno and did know plenty of people there, but we had to form groups between four and seven people and people who knew him better than us knew not to take him! He was a nice kid but awkward; he always looked kind of greasy and wore an Iron Maiden t-shirt and a leather jacket. He was too earnest for his own good and made a lot of bold declarations, two qualities sure to make you the butt of the joke when you’re dealing with bored teenage boys. I remember when Pope John-Paul II died Bowser said that John-Paul was one of the most common names for a pope. My friend Squelch immediately pointed out he was only the second one.

RIP D OF E, BUT WHAT'S IT GOT TO DO WITH ME? PART ONE

In case you missed it, Prince Philip died on the Friday of last week. I found out when my parents rang me and Mum asked me to phone her dad, saying he was pretty broken up about Philip dying. If I'd cared at all it would have been an awkward way to break the news to me!  I gave Grandad a ring and he told me he was sad because the late Duke of Edinburgh was just a couple of months short of his 100th birthday and it was a shame to see someone fall a couple of inches short of finishing a hundred yard race. The way I see it, ninety-nine years of unimaginable unearned wealth and luxury is a good consolation prize!

The idea of royalty doesn't sit right with me. I don't like wealth hoarding in general and I'm a big fan of viewing things from a Rawlsian perspective; imagining you were setting the practice up as if it were new. You do it blindly, not knowing which side of the equation you’d land. If you were setting society up as if it were new, would you have one random family living in a series of lavishly decorated palaces, and have all the other members of society pay for them to be waited on? I suspect you wouldn’t. We’re often told here that the royal family generate more income through tourism and media interest and the like than we spend on them, but I have a feeling that it’s in the interest of those conducting the studies to conclude that! I certainly think we could find a better return on investment.

I wonder if attitudes towards the royal family as a whole have changed over the last couple of decades or whether Philip just wasn’t as popular as Diana or the Queen Mother. I remember thinking it was insane how many regular people paid to have flowers sent to their respective graves, or that common people with no connection to the Queen Mother were queuing up for seven hours in order to pay their respects to her corpse! Madness. I’ve studied management science, and can tell you a better solution would have been to respectfully wheel her corpse past the mourners on a guerney. Poor Philip, on the other hand, had 109,000 people complain to the BBC when they stopped scheduled programming for blanket coverage of the old codger!

I’m aware this is even more tangential and freeform than usual; but I just realised that has to be short for “coffin dodger,” right? I’m not looking it up, I’d rather believe that to be true than to be disappointed! Ha! It’s great when words surprise you like that; I remember a couple of years ago I found out that scumbag literally meant condom! I don’t think many people realise that when they use it as an insult, and I’ve certainly never heard an actual condom described that way. I also heard that the phrase “good egg” has a racist etymology, which kind of fits in with the sort of Hoorah Henrys I think of using the phrase, though I’ve also read this may not be true. It’s not a phrase I ever used anyway!

Anyway, they broke open the liquor cabinet here at the home yesterday and we all got to toast Prince Philip on the day of his funeral. They do drinks on special occasions; Christmas, Easter, St Patrick’s Day and the like. I always have a whiskey and they always mix it with ginger ale; it doesn’t taste great but I can certainly feel the effects for an hour or so! They always serve up the drinks at around 3pm; there's something nice about institutional day drinking! I suspect the carers may have helped themselves to some because they never got round to washing me yesterday, and they forgot to bring me my dinner! When one of the staff did bring it to me all the excess dinner had been thrown away so I had a couple of ham sandwiches instead. She had the audacity to ask if I’d had dinner and forgotten about it! The nerve! Hopefully it won’t be too long before we can order in delivery. When I first arrived here I used to look at JustEat the same way I imagine other people would look at porn, imagining I was getting to eat the curries and pizzas I was reading about! I’m getting hungry writing this!

MOXIE, REPRESNTATION AND THE RISE OF JOSIE TOTAH

I saw Netflix feminism 101 movie Moxie a couple of weeks ago, and found it enjoyable, though lighter on the laughs than you might expect from a film directed by Any Poehler. It does have plenty of heart and as well as trying to pass on the riot grrrl torch to a new generation it has a solid message promoting empathy and pointing out injustice. I've studied philosophy and sociology, and really don't understand why anyone would rationally be anti-feminist. Like, I get why you wouldn't march for it, or make it one of your core values; I can identify with being lazy and self-interested or just having no time or not giving a fuck. I get that. But all feminism really boils down to is giving women a fair shake and ensuring they are afforded the same opportunities as men. It's not a zero-sum game; making things better for women doesn't mean making things worse for men. To actively oppose feminism as a concept seems insane to me.

I'm going to lay some major plot points for Moxie, but it's not the sort of film that relies on big twists or action set pieces, its power comes from the charming performances and the realistic dialogue. The film focuses on a white girl named Vivian who is used to just standing by and keeping her head down when the boys in the school act like immature assholes and misogynists, going so far as to tell new black girl Lucy to just avoid antagonizing popular athlete Mitchell after she sees Mitchell take Lucy's drink from a vending machine, open it up and spit in it. Lucy tells Vivian her reluctance to speak up is part of the problem and encourages her to toughen up.

Oh no, did the tampon store close early?

Mitchell is a great villain, he's smart enough to avoid getting noticed by the teachers, framing his shooting down Lucy in class as lively debate, using social media to attack the girls anonymously outside of school, and endearing himself to the school by being a great athlete. He knows how to work the faculty; represented by Principal Shelley and by English teacher Mr Davis. His reluctance to weigh in clearly comes from a desire to keep his job and the fact that it's hard enough getting a bunch of teenagers to critically analyse The Great Gatsby without carving out time to engage in a battle of the sexes. When Lucy questions why they're supposed to read another book written by a straight white male and Mitchell defends it as an American classic it's easy to see why the teacher sides with Mitchell. Ike Barinholtz nails the character's frustrated adherence to the status quo, he probably didn't have much say in the curriculum and just wants to get through the day. It's not even apathy, he has limited time to do a thankless job.

I CONVINCED A GIRL TO TRY ON A DIAPER!

Cross that one off my bucket list, Functioneers!

I mentioned in my last post that a young lesbian had seen a post I had written on Reddit's Dirty Pen Pal thread sharing that she had a diaper fantasy of her own and reached out to me a few days after I put up a diaper based prompt. I don't know why she chose me to confide in, all I'll say is I'm fucking glad I did! The original post I got from her is as follows:

Hey I saw your dpp post [You Mal-Pals can find it here, the two paragraphs above the photo of the lady filling her diaper!] and honestly I would love to chat with you!

I have recently been kind of attracted to the idea of diapers. Mostly due to the control and care aspect I feel like they would provide. I feel like the control aspect is obvious. The person taking care of me would essentially have control of my hygiene. The care aspect would mostly be all of the little stuff like the diapering, powdering, washing, inspecting and what not, which is almost like pampering.

I guess there is also the whole private humiliation thing going on as well. I'd be wearing a diaper which is honestly rather humiliating but just we would know about it.

ART REFLECTING LIFE, LIFE REFLECTING ART

Art is probably too strong a word, but you get the picture! I'm still playing around with Orange Envelopes of Love and am bloody loving it! A quick bit of housekeeping before I get on to the good stuff!

Frequent commenter and Channing Tatum body double j.stern asked if I could describe some of the care home residents and staff. I can only say that I have a room to myself and have yet to meet any other residents, and that after six months I haven't really made much of a connection with the staff. I keep the door shut because I'm often watching something NSFW on my laptop. It also shields (but doesn't block out) an alarm that sounds whenever anyone on this floor (at least 18 beds that I know of) need assistance with anything, and is therefore going almost constantly during the day. My room is also adjacent to a laundry, and I can hear it going even as I write this at ten to one in the fucking morning!

Staff come in every two hours between 6pm and 6am, so I leave a lamp on constantly so as not to be disturbed by the change of light at these intervals. During the day I get a wash, meals are brought to me and dishes collected afterwards, pills are administered and I ring for a urine bottle or bedpan when needed. The staff all wear face masks and plastic aprons due to COVID-19 (although they're all tested and inoculated) which makes it hard to learn names and faces. The staff is overwhelmingly female, with a couple of male nurses in charge of drugs and all-female carers in charge of everything else! Because of where I live they're almost entirely white, also.

PENPALS, NEW & OLD!

 What up Mal-Pals? Hope you're all keeping well! I certainly am, I had my second COVID-19 jab today and am looking forward to longer visits from my parents, the occasional takeaway (I've had one slice of pizza in the past six months and it fuckin' suuuucked!) and hopefully some physiotherapy, finally! I had my first jab on New Year's Eve, my arm felt heavy for a couple of hours, like I'd been lifting weights, but other than that it was all good. This time I didn't even have that, I barely felt the needle going in, then after a few seconds it stung for a couple of minutes, and now I'm 95% immune!

I joined a couple of fetish dating sites, figuring if disabled dating wasn't going to work out then maybe I should play to my other strengths. Brief first impressions:

Fetish Dating UK - Seemed promising but fun by whoever's behind SingleDisabled and Genuine Disabled Singles and God knows what else, and uses the same fake introductory message gimmick to tempt you into shelling out. (Ultimately it's a company called TheHubPeople, though they seem to have a ton of pseudonyms they use to "power" various sites.) I am never going to give those assholes any more of my money, especially seeing they haven't even removed the scammer I reported off the site, she is still listed as email verified and a VIP member (so she's paying to use the site - I hope she's making a loss!).  In fact, when the scammer first messages me the site vouched for her as such: [SCAM_GODDESS] is a regular member of this site. Please be wary of members pretending to be Admins and attempting to divert you from the site or take payments from you. More on my con artist friend and her giant arse later!

PUTTING MYSELF OUT THERE

This morning I was feeling very lonely. This isn't something I often deal with; I lived a pretty isolated existence before I was bedbound, and have intimacy issues, so I've rarely worried about loneliness or a need for contact in the past. You can't miss what you never had, right? Wells, so far this year I've done a lot of soul-searching, and started taking some very effective head meds, and there have been a lot of very rewarding positives I've experienced as a result. I think feeling a little bit lonely may be the first negative to come from dropping my emotional baggage and altering my brain chemistry with duloxetine and amitriptyline (I'm on the good stuff!). I'll take it. And I have felt this way before, but today is the day I did something about it.

Tankerton Latch, table for one!

There are a few factors contributing to my feelings of isolation today:

• I saw my parents yesterday, so I won't have any visitors until next Monday. 
• My brother's working the late shift so there's no family Zoom this week.
• I had to deal with the one cleaner here who's kind of an asshole first thing - lack of privacy and being unable to set your own schedule are the worst things about being in hospital or a care facility, there have been hospital stays I was underperformed for that felt a lot like doing time.
• My laptop isn't connecting to the care home's erratic Wi-Fi, so I'm using my tablet to surf and write this, which is less than ideal.
• My friend Strict Julie has agreed to my real-world punishment, a ridiculous development that just two months ago would have seemed about as realistic as me becoming a space tourist.

DINNER AT JULIE'S: A CROSSOVER EVENT!

I've written a lot about my good friend (and evil temptress!) Strict Julie from Strict Julie Spanks. I originally e-mailed her with three comments I had written that were too long for the blogger comment section to deal with. The first two I have posted here, and I believe she has posted the third comment on her blog today, a true honour! (QUICK EDIT - She absolutely posted it and gave it the most entertaining and positive review I have ever read. She is pure fire in every aspect - hot, bright, untouchable, uncontrollable, crackling with energy, giver of warmth but scary and worthy of your respect... It's pretty rad.) That comment was in response to this blog entry in which she lets her neighbour Larry learn a little about her deviant lifestyle. I don't know what she's saying about the story over there, but here was her initial feedback to me - positive, but less than glowing:

You brought the wife in, which normally would be hot, except you don't know her! Also, with me I get into a certain "mood", and current mood is male dom all the way and I resent a woman's power over me when in that mood. Though sometimes I get into an F/F mood and then all I want is to be dominated by a woman. I'm hoping in r/l Larry won't tell his busybody wife, hoping to keep the fun going, but I am prepared for the fact he might, wife and daughter both, as a fun tidbit about the city girl next door.

But have no fear, my mood changed sort of halfway through and I fiddled myself to the second reading of the wife fucking my ass while Larry jizzed down my throat!

So yeah, it seemed that it was not entirely her bag but she had found something in there she could half-heartedly touch herself to. I'll take it! This was (and is) incredibly new territory for me. I addressed her critiques and promised I would take another stab at a similar story but with her turn-ons in mind.

MY LITTLE PONY RIDER

I've told you guys before about how I was encouraged to start this blog by Julie of Strict Julie Spanks fame, after I e-mailed her a couple of comments I had about a post she had written that were too long for the comments section to handle.

I'm sure anyone reading this will be familiar with Julie's blog, but I'll give you a quick run-down in case you're unfamiliar. It is very well written and worth your time. Julie started her blog nearly ten years earlier when she first started spanking her husband. There was a lot of talk in the early days about what a big bad domme she was and how she wore the trousers in her marriage, and it was exciting to see her enthusiastically experiment with different ways of humiliating her husband, both in public and in private. However, it wasn't long before she started posting about being on the receiving end of a good solid spanking, and she has written about being disciplined by her husband, her sister, her parents, and her friends. She's even paid professionals to treat her like a sloppy little sub slut, as you can see in the photo here:

I imagine Julie was very strict telling her Mistress exactly how to punish her lovely little bottom!