Nails

It’s a bit of a wonder I can type LOL Yesterday, John and I went to do the shopping and while strolling through the chemist, he suggested I might buy glue-on-fingernails. Uhm. Ok. Or at least I seem to have forgotten how to backtalk LOL So, I spent my Saturday afternoon manicuring myself and then putting those plastic nails on top of my nails. Two things became obvious quite fast: I might have learnt how to put on make up, but that’s meaning nothing concerning artificial nails and there’s a reason why I don’t have a hobby like model making. Oh gosh. I guess the result was a bit poor, but John, who had witnessed my attempts and made fun of me while doing so, insisted I should paint them as well. He had chosen a bright pink varnish for me and so I gave my best. Well, to be honest I thought someone who uses to paint a lot should be able to perform better, but it looked awful. But obviously John thought it was fun having his sissy whore look so poor…

I have never ever in my whole life had long fingernails. I always admired women with long nails who dealt with their chores like their nails were short. Now I know it’s hard work, or at least some kind of magic LOL I have learnt how to walk with my ankles tied together and how to cook with a leather mask on, but doing whatever with those nails really sucks. John made me dress up and as if it had been in the screen-play, I ruined my tights. Great. He made me wear them anyway, then prepare dinner (it had gotten a bit late…). Later, he had me trying to masturbate without impaling myself. Uhm. Well, it worked, but I did not enjoy it, although I liked feeling slutty.

He had me sleep with these ruined nails on and spent even our lunch wearing them, then he allowed to take them off. Uhm, if that had been that easy. Although I had bought a remover, they just lingered. What else to say? I called my friend S for help and after her laughing rash, she admitted she had no idea. So she called another friend of hers and she said, I should rather go to see a professional than try to “somehow” cut them off because I might injure my own nails and get an infection. Great, yeah.

So now? I’m waiting for Monday morning to arrive so that I can call some professional studios around here and hope for someone having time for me. Then I’ll have to call my boss and tell her some lie why I can’t come to work on Monday. And guess what? John said I’ll hit them fully dressed up as Ginny. “No need to be ashamed, they surely are used to sluts like you”. Well, I hope so, otherwise they’ll at least have a good laugh. Moreover, John was thinking aloud about having me getting my nails done by them. I guess I’m not ready for that. Really not!

I think I’ll file that under “absurd accidents in my 24/7-BDSM-based relationship”. Quite proud of myself for typing that.

2 thoughts on “Nails

  1. If you’d go for artificial nails made by a professional artist, it would mean to adhere to Ginny, wouldn’t it?

    • blaubeermann says:

      Yes, but I’m not quite sure whether I already want that or might ever want it. I regard Ginny as a part of myself, but probably a part not meant to be shown to everyone. Also, I fear harrasment in my everyday life.

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