#26 A morning in the life of my first wife’s slave

Fuck, I’m gunna have to try write these more often as end up having too much to put in and turns into a long as read. But been a busy little cunt of late… you know doing slave shit.

I’m writing this a little backwards (yeah no surprise there I hear you say) as after a little hiccup following last chemo shots the first wife actually came good and felt ok… until she woke up this morning being chemo day again.

Oh man it was fucked as because she had vertigo and couldn’t move for fear of spinning out and spewing.  Now I’m always up for a good chunder but ol slave husband would’ve turned into slave husband performing spew clean up duties and fuck that shit, man.

So instead, my first wife’s first husband was the equivalent of an old fogeys walking frame being leaned on and grabbed like I seen you sheilas do at one of those male strip shows… okay, maybe not quite like that because the dear ol thing wasn’t too fussy on where she was grabbing, and in her defence probably had a different reason to grab.

Pull her up off the bed in slow motion not too dissimilar to the kids when we tell them to do the dishes…

Shuffle her into the ensuite where I’m sure if I could shit for her she would’ve got me to do that as well…

Find a ragggety old chair outside and bring inside to put into the shower for her to sit on…

Wash it cos it was dirty as an Argentinian rugby player in a ruck…

Use ‘The Force’ and somehow manage to get her into the shower without spewing…

Wash her hair and apparently the 28 in one all inclusive shampoo version that I used to use for everything from shampoo to engine oil isn’t ideal for this little princess’s hair and only one squirt per hair wash I’m told…

But then ya gotta do it again so why not use two squirts to start with? Fucked if I know but anyway, it got washed…

Ah, but then there’s another bottle for conditioner and away we go again… wash, wash, wash, clean, clean, clean or whatever it does…

Note to self…. apparently fondling her tits in the shower isn’t considered part of hair washing chores.

Anyway, I managed to survive that assignment in one piece…

Then a little a wipe with a towel and a pre hair drying artform needs to take place with a weird shaped cloth thing to fold her hair up inside and undertake a level three origami practice with funky folding techniques.

Then do the ol rabbiting (not this dictionary version ‘to have an uncharacteristically-large volume of sexual intercourse – especially with a partner – in a relatively short timespan; or even this one ‘the sport of hunting rabbits’ but the rugby term like a shuffling double movement) thing back into the room so I can undertake another awesome task of drying her hair using a hair dryer.

For any other dudes who want to upskill, just DM me because there is a whole raft of tactics to achieve this correctly.  I won’t bore you with details here but it is not a quick process…

Now, where was I?  Oh that’s right… slave chores including giving her kisses because secretly we’re happy as fuck that she hasn’t lost her hair (yet) due to chemo and I can still take the piss out of her/it.

With all these directions given and undertaken I’m forgetting the order of ‘em but somewhere along the line I fed her, always making sure her spew bucket was within arm’s (or vomit’s) reach, put her socks on and kiss her feet before doing so. For those who may be wondering, I am a weird cunt alright but not really the feet fetish sort of dude but she digs the ol’ foot kiss so I guess I can’t wait to do it all again.

Manage to get my first wife to her chemo session on time which turned into a ‘Yeah, nah not today, sunshine. Because when ya already dizzy as fuck and having ya worst day yet they don’t really want to poison you more. I get it.

So, have booked her in for a physio visit tomorrow to hopefully fuck off this vertigo and postponed her chemo session a week later.

My first wife has had vertigo a couple times and it really fucks her up big time aye. Kinda shit really.

Marjana’s oncologist is pretty onto it though, is highly rated within the cancer circles and also reminds me of a gnome.  She was adamant that I don’t refer to him as a gnome though so for anyone wondering the official line is ‘No he does not look like a gnome at all ^{_{(but really he does)}}.  Having said that, I reckon gnomes are cool as fuck.  They get to travel the world over when people steal them from gardens and take photos to send back to the owners. So for the record, if ever I call you a gnome it’s not a detrimental term but a term of endearment… not as much a term of endearment as ‘good cunt’ though. And anyway, this oncologist dude is really onto it and we’d be fucked without him, whether he reminds me of a gnome or not…. even though he isn’t a gnome ^{_{(but does still really look like one to me).}}

Finish the morning off by taking my slave master, first wife, the ol’ girl aka Marjana back home to give her a feed and watch her sleep on the couch trying not to move at all so she doesn’t spew… and it ain’t even related to cancer for fucks sake.

Then write this blog.

Bit of a cunt of a day but that’s living!

And it really is, so fuck yeah!