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.

Polite

IMG_6105She told me one evening “I think I’m sometimes too polite to you, pup”. I smiled. “It’s hard to let go of good habits like being polite. But I think, since you’re my slave, I should be a little meaner. A little more direct.”

“That’s your prerogative, of course” I replied.

“It is, isn’t it.”

And here I was the previous night thinking “I wonder if she might try being a little meaner in the future.” But I never told her that. Well, not until she reads this post, that is.

“Good.”

She asked me the first morning after I had been locked up. “Did you wake up last night?” It will take several days before I can be in chastity and used to the device being on. Usually I can sleep through the night after a week.

“Yes, twice.”

“Did you kneel?” I often kneel by the side of the bed until the erection within my cage subsides.

“Once.” I had knelt once and once went to the bathroom to pee, as that also will let the erection subside.

“Was it painful?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”  she smiled and ended the conversation.

Anger, frustration, depression

I get anger over work issues. It’s exceptionally frustrating at work sometimes. I work in the non-profit sector. I deal with other people in other companies and I deal with lots of people inside our company. And I have a boss. And he has a boss. I am responsible for scheduling in my department – scheduling that MUST occur. Nobody can be missing. And I get all the excuses, reasons, requests, desires, etc. And then there are reasons why people need me to change staffing. We have X project or Y event and I’m the one that needs to wrangle people. And people are a fucking pain in the ass, often. But I also handle some automation. And it usually works without a hitch. Until the people (you remember the people, right?) start fucking with it… I also have people in other groups poking at things which make my world harder. It’s quite the balance and usually I make it happen and all is well. It has not been all well for a while.

In my family world, things have been shook up. I’ve discovered a long lost relative which presents me with some big questions and possibly some even harder truths that might be at hand. I’m sorry to “vague blog”, but I don’t know if all the detail is necessary. But it makes me feel like some of my family may have been terribly abused and it puts me at odds. I’m angry about it and I’m also showing some depression from it. I’m not getting into a deeper clinical depression, but just a depression that let’s itself be known and puts me in a down mindset. Chloe knows. She knows the reason. And I think she knows that I just have to work through it.

And to be honest, I think that the current political climate in Washington and our new President has put a few shovel fulls of depression into my world. It’s hard for me to grasp some of the things that he and his appointees and the general public are pressing. Completely illogical reasoning on doing some of the things and people just going along with it. The demise of intellectual conversation and the deeper divisions being dug between the sides. The disappearance of science. The degradation of fact. The whitewashing of history. All of this adds to my frustration and feeling of helplessness.

With all this, it’s not an easy place to be for a submissive. I know that it’s affecting our life. I know it’s affecting our interactions. I am thrilled to have Chloe’s love, affection and support, now more than ever. I could retreat into a super full service mode, but then Chloe loses her companion in me. I could withdraw completely from her, but then Chloe loses her service and that adds to my depression. I think she has been dealing with it well. She is giving me space on social activities, letting me spend some time with myself and with an occasional game or just getting away. She’s also doing some little things to remind me of our dynamic. As I write this in the nearby coffee shop, I am wearing the panties she selected for me this morning and left on the bed. The taste of her nether regions was only recently washed away with some Chai and some food, as she woke me to her pussy hovering over my face this morning.

And all this also affects my other relationships. Someone hoping to talk to me about an upcoming event has not been contacted and I’m almost afraid to reach out to the long lost relative because of “what I know” and what they “do not know”. I’m being kind of “Benzite-ian” (Star Trek TNG) in my approach with some of this family stuff, not divulging some things without having all the detail and a possible solution – though I know there may not be a solution – just a lot of information to share. But I want all the information before I share. And it affects my volunteer efforts as well, causing me to procrastinate on them for fear of failure which will only bring about failure. Yeah, not helping myself out.


So, I’m at a loss. No, I’m really not. I’m not at a loss. I’m a little depressed, I’m a bit angry about some stuff and I’m frustrated as hell. I’m not worried about any sexual frustration – as that’s NOT a problem, in fact, sexual activity has also been not in the forefront of my mind either, though I try.

These are all first world problems (except Washington – that can easily affect 2nd and 3rd worlds). I really have nothing proper to complain about. So, I can try to be more positive, get off this train of anger and frustration and kick my own ass out of depression before it goes deeper. It’s not a terrible set of circumstances. I’m terribly fortunate overall and grateful for that.

Let’s see how the weekend goes. I’m optimistic and hopeful. Who knows, maybe Chloe will take me for a walk in the woods to acquire naked January. ;)

Do winners win?

As we waited for our movie last week, we hopped into the abandoned arcade area of the theater. Being a weeknight, there were no gaggles of kids running from claw to shooter to racer to basketball throw. Just two adults standing at the air hockey table.

Finally acquiring the right amount of tokens for the game, Madame and I set out to play. I handily won the first game, each of us our own worst enemy scoring on ourselves. The score was something like 7-5. And the second game, before anyone scored I offered a bet.

“Well, if I win, I get… ” She looked at me. “I get… ”

“I win no matter what, you know, boy”

“Yes, I know… but if I were to win this game… I’d like.” I paused as she scored on me. Down 1 – 0. “I’d like a ruined orgasm”

She never tacitly agreed to the bet and, well, there was nothing on the line for if I lost, but that was okay too. We came to the end of the game and the timer ended with the score 4 – 3 in my favor, but she put the puck in – still – the timer was done – the score didn’t register.


The next morning, we woke, she very happy with the previous night as I had shown her quite a good time. She was, I think, pleasantly surprised with how good the movie was and how much fun we both had. She had me fuck her, used me well, I was able to get into some good fucking without worrying about cumming, though she started whispering things to me which put me so close to the edge. I had to stop a few times. Eventually, she tired of this game and demanded “Off!”

I lay on the bed as we cuddled and she stroked my cock lazily.

“So, tell me about this thing we bet on last night?”

“Ruined orgasm?”

“Yes, that.”

“Well, it’s basically just when you run the boy up to the edge, let his cum dribble out over the edge and it’s kind of like an orgasm, but without all the pleasure for the man. The good part is that, supposedly, you can just do that and he’s ready to go again without worrying about him cumming so soon. It’s supposed to take the edge completely off.”

She soon had me at that edge and let go. I had told her “NO! STOP! STOP STOP STOP” but she kept going, releasing me before I started spilling. It was a full ejaculate measure, for sure, but there was none of the pleasure of a full on orgasm. Okay, that’s not true, there was lots of pleasure, but it was a different pleasure.

My honest critique is that it did not keep me on edge like I expected. My cock wilted after I spilled. That’s not supposed to happen with this. My desire waned a little as well. Now, I’m not saying that it wasn’t a ruined orgasm, it certainly was, but perhaps we need to do one of two things. One, she needs to stop sooner – really let it dribble. Two, she needs to not be so fucking sexy while she’s doing it. It really is a turn on. :)

 

Perhaps ruined orgasms won’t work for me/us. Perhaps when you’re kept in denial so long, even a ruined orgasm wilts the libido a little. I can’t be sure, but I’m more than willing to continue practicing. Any thoughts on how we might make it better?

Public

We went to a movie last night. It was a long forgotten reservation for tickets for a classic movie and we made it into dinner and a movie. She got a little bit of her RLS (Restless leg) thing going and removed her shoes during the movie. During the movie, I rubber her back multiple times, helped her body relax a little and generally followed her cues to help her with feeling better.

At the end, the credits ran, she picked up her shoes and we went with the crowd, swept up in the people walking, then pulled off into the lower seats of the theater where we were both able to not be in the way. There, in front of the rest of the crowd, I helped her put her shoes on. Kneeling in front of her, I helped, she scratched my ears, it was obvious that I was helping her with her shoes. I handed her her jacket and her bag afterward and we walked out.

It was a lovely thing to be able to do for her. I hope someone was able to watch and see and know that this lovely FLR moment was happening.

Flip or flop

There are times, like Tuesday night, where things switch around here in our cozy little bungalow. We went out, had a good time, she was feeling the need for a good strong fuck and I was feeling a need to give her one. And that’s how we ended up with me pounding her heavily while she used the hitachi to add another perspective to her pussy, causing her to have a very deep cum, a little different than most of her other cums. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

I let my side get a little more animal than I could easily recover from. I was growling at her, most literally. Unable to produce coherent words nor provide any cogent reason why she shouldn’t simply smack me into next week, we should a gentler approach to getting me back to her and simply held me close and soothed me with words. She told me to breathe, she had me calm and I really tried to, but the animal would not leave the room.

She ended up taking the bathrobe tie to my mouth, gagging me. then she took my belt, still lying on the floor from us getting undressed, wrapped it around my head a couple times and tied it off to blindfold me. With those senses down, she was able to get me into a much calmer space. She clipped the leash to my collar as well. We soon fell asleep – a good night of food, drink, fucking and switching behind us, where the blindfold eventually fell off and the gag, expertly tied, was pulled from my mouth.

But in the end of it, I knew that my animal was far out of his place, had encroached too far into our FLR and I felt some guilt about it. Gagged, collared, blindfolded, I found myself down at the end of the bed, as far as I could be, down beneath her. I remember lapping at her hands, kissing her ass, rubbing her and trying to sooth her from wanting to do me harm, as I knew that the animal may have pressed too far, or stayed too long. And my submissive side was very much wanting to repair any damage that might have been done.

In the light of day and in hindsight, there was no damage done. Not at all. But it did feel awkward to need to come back to my submissive self and find that things were okay.

I like us in our FLR dynamic. And I like when we switch. But this was an odd time where I felt like I lost control of the animal and she had to bring it back under control. And that might have been more than she wanted to deal with that night.

In the end, it was a good night and a good next morning. I found myself kissing her toes before she left, then proceeding to my own morning routines.

Trigger Finger

127532515_0bbeb8b4ba_bDamn it, I miss my boy. Enough is enough. I completely get he is away for a very good cause, and never would I interfere with that. But damn it….I don’t like being apart like this. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that’s true. But what do they say about a Dominant woman? What grows within her during absence? The heart?? Yes, the heart does indeed yearn. The body? Yes, that yearns too. But so does my trigger finger. And it just so happens that my trigger finger is the same exact one that is used to point. To direct. To beacon. To silence. To snap. With that one finger, I can make my grown boy cry. And that I do very much enjoy at times.

I am missing our routines. Can I take care of myself? Yes, of course I can. But I don’t want to. Not in all aspects. I am missing the daily rituals of him undressing me at night. Of the gentle removal of jewelry from my body. I miss watching him as he puts away my clothing, my things. I am missing his daily devotions. His kissing of all my bits and places.  His licking. His attentive hands and mouth.

I am missing the petting. The holding. The coffee. The warming of the car. The bed being made. The perfect cocktail at the end of the day.

Yes, I am without him and I am making and drinking coffee. I am putting away my clothes. And making the bed.

But I don’t prefer to do these things. I much prefer to point. To beacon. To snap. To point and command.

Even if there is a huge, wicked smile upon my face.