Documentation

Madame and I have loved being together the way we are. We’ve both been married before. We’re both divorced. We both still love our previous spouses, but the marriages in those instances were at their end. We still get along with our ex’s. In our own relationship, we’ve never felt a “need” to be married or officially coupled to each other.


But now life comes up and presents us an opportunity that is only available to domestic partners or spouses. And I find myself navigating the state website, downloading and filling out forms and having them available to present to my owner for our collective signatures before a notary.

And I find myself annoyed by the form, although I’m sure it’s less annoying than a marriage form, though it’s been a while since I filled out one of those. The form says “Domestic Partnera A:” and “Domestic Partner B:”. And it’s a fillable PDF. So I can add more words to the right of those words. But I wonder what happens if I do that and submit it. I want to write “Owner” and “Owned”. Or perhaps something else. But then I’m up against involving other (vanilla) people in our kink. But… our kink is more than kink. It really is how we live. It really is who we are. We wouldn’t be lying by adding text to it. But how would the state react? Would they refuse? And how would history judge this? I imagine that all forms will eventually be digital and somewhere in the future anyone will be able to look up this particular form and see that “Great-great-great-grandpa was an owned partner!”. It’s exciting as well as scary.

I’m pretty sure I know how this goes. We’ll leave it as it is. We’ll know what we really mean with it. And we’ll celebrate our happy selves as we want to celebrate our happy selves outside the scope of the rest of history and government bureaucracy in this matter.

On the shorter cage…

So, this weekend I locked myself Friday morning, as she is just starting a crazy three weeks of two jobs. So, while she indicated she felt bad about forgetting, I let her know it was no big deal and that it was fine for me to self lock and leave her the key. I’m away from home for the weekend and typically lock up when I’m more than a few miles away from her. This time, to test some theories, I used the shortest cage we have.

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In the late night, a plausible fantasy

Last night we had some lovely sex. We had just watched a movie and while she snoozed through some of it, she was restless throughout. She’d already seen it, I had not. She came back from the bathroom at the end of the movie and we coupled, kissing, touching, groping. She allowed me inside her and then teased me verbally the entire time. Well, except for the moments where I was able to silence her with hard thrusting, but that didn’t last long. It can’t last too long when she whispers and I’ve been denied over 70 days. But we settled into some lovely fun playful sex and she grinned at torturing and teasing me, watching me struggle to stave off the cumming that was so very close several times.

Eventually I was able to withstand even most of her whispering and was able to really fuck well, which kind of puts her off her game of teasing and she had enough. She told me so. “Enough” she said. “Down!” she said. Finally she got the right word for her dog “HEEL!” she giggled. And I withdrew. “Damn you, dog… ” she smiled at me.

We settled into bed. The two of us together, tangled, pillow, body, pillows, body, tangles of arms and legs. I was able to pet her and did so. She snoozed, I heard her breathing change, the ragged noises of sleep now coming from her. And despite ourselves having stopped fucking, I was still quite horny. I rolled onto my back, able to still pet her. With my left hand I pet her, with my right, I pet myself. My hand grasped around my cock, still wet from being inside her, still hard from our love making. I pumped it, I stroked it. I remembered her whispers and words. Soon I was near the edge and pumping harder, my balls slapping and making the quintessential jerking off noises. She stirred as I paused from my stroking.

†”Are you touching?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Not enough for you, pup?”

“Still horny, Ma’am”

I could hear her smile. “Good, pup. Good. I like you torturing yourself while I sleep. Pet me to sleep again and tease yourself for ten more minutes. Then sleep.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” And so I pet her, waited for her sleeping noises again and spent another ten minutes teasing myself to the edge multiple times while she slept next to me.

When I snuggled in behind her spooning her, my hard cock nestled between her cheeks. She roused again as I so very gently humped against her. “Keep petting me. Keep humping too.” which I did until we both fell asleep tangled with each other. Another lovely night in our big beautiful bed. Another night with my lovely Mistress still holding her virtual leash close while we slept.


†This is the point where the fantasy happens. She didn’t really tell me this, but I was stroking next to her while she slept. And I’m sure she’d be okay with my torturing myself. She’s mentioned it before. A charmed life we lead.

Snippets

This morning we are preparing the house for yet another lost puppy. I mean, another house guest. A friend who is recovering from surgery has asked for a different venue of recovery – within an eight week recovery of “don’t you dare do X or you’ll screw up the recovery.”

In an ideal world, I’d have helped Madame around the house naked and collared. But in our current situation it’s a case of just running around the house in jammies and getting things done.

But we took a moment at the end of the cleanup and moving of things to settle into the dining room. She in the comfy dining room chair, me kneeling at her feet.

“Get on your hands knees facing the plant” I did so, puzzled. “Closer” she added. I moved closer. “I like footstools closer.”

And so I was her footstool for a few minutes until the tea kettle whistled and I was directed to handle the kettle.

Just snippets of how I serve her and a glimpse at how I’d sometimes like to serve her as well. But that’s how we do it in our world. And we’re good with that.

Reminded, again and again

Most often when we’re playing with chastity, it’s because I’m away from her for a weekend or traveling to somewhere. This latest time, I was only down in Massachusetts for a day trip, but I wanted to lock up while I was away. It’s comforting to me sometimes to be locked when I’m away from her even for short duration.

Sometimes when we play its because of a social event such as “Locktober”. Lots of kinky folks play then and last year I was locked from stem to stern of that month, a complete month of lockdown. Thanks social media!

But on these short stints, like we’re on now, it makes it so that I’m constantly reminded of our chastity lifestyle. I can’t predict when she’ll unlock me so in our calendar, where I track our chastity, I find the entry that says “Dog locked” and I edit it. Another day locked, I change the end time. Another morning awakened and she leaves the house before I do? Another few hours added. Constantly, once or twice a day I update the calendar entry, increasing the record of my sentence under lock and key to her. She just discussed our chastity play in a post yesterday and we both recognize that our chastity is not “set it and forget it” – but more like “set it and remind him – again and again”. My chastity, along with my orgasm denial, is something that we play with where the reminder is part of the play. Her reminding me that she’s going to cum and I’m not. Her showing me that she broke out the hitachi yesterday while I was locked and at the office. Her driving me to the edge with her words. Her waking up while I’m kneeling alongside the bed waiting for an erection to subside. All reminders to keep me remembering that I’m under her lock and key, even if I lock myself to start the sentence.

I don’t have any idea when she’ll let me out again. I’ll just keep updating the calendar entry each day as the sentence continues on and on. And we’ll add it all up again at the end of the year again.

Not forgotten!

Sorry to the blog readers that we haven’t really written much but it invariably happens where we go off on an event which derails the writing and then we don’t get back into the swing of things. Add to that added dynamics in the house and patterns in the house have to change and adjust, so one of the things to get dropped is the blog.

We had a lovely time in DC with another 1200 of our closest kinky friends around President’s weekend, but the weather didn’t cooperate enough to allow us to do much tourist wandering, although being on the crew, the weather was absolutely PERFECT. We really do enjoy being part of the crew though it is a lot of work.

So, she and I played together, I got to spend some quality time with Lady J and we had a good time. Given our work schedules we viewed the event as more vacation time for me and was supposed to be vacation time for her as well, with some work sprinkled in. It ended up being a great time (you get the camp you need, not the camp you want), though I was terribly tired by the time we got back home.

And then work took over for us, along with life. I have no complaints. All my stress and problems are minor and first world problems.

Fast forward to March and here we are well into it. We’ve had a lovely few days together lately. She’s discovering that she enjoys Manhattans (the cocktail) and we’re adjusting our home bar to suit. I’m on a trip to NH today so have stopped in a tax free NH liquor store and stocked up for the coming weeks. A party to attend and a beautiful hotel room are in our future tonight before I play the role of Dad with one of the kids tomorrow who has an event 150 miles from home. And yep, I’m driving down there to visit him at the event and then return. Dads in divorced families may do things like this.

Our household situation has changed too. We used to be a communal house of two women and two men. Previous to that we were three women and one man. And right now Chloe is outnumbered, 3-1. And the energy in the house is… off. It’s simply not right. I thrive on the feminine energy that’s normally in the house and Chloe loves that I do. When it was a 3-1 F/m house, she would always smile and smirk at me knowing that I was in service to women all the time. I was doing all my chores not just for Chloe, but for the rest of the women too, even if they didn’t know it. And now, with the wrong energy men in the house I often get a case of the fuck-its wherein I’ll let some of the normal tasks go because the other men in the house are the cause of the mess/dirt/issue. And she’s cutting me some slack on that. She recognizes that the energy is wrong and it is at a polar opposite to how I work. I am actively avoiding the common areas of the house and retreating to the bedroom far more often than I used to. This is a temporary situation. And by the end of April I expect that the house will be back to at 3-1 F/m, perhaps a 3-2 F/M for a little while, which will be difficult – Five people in the same space will be tight – and could be tedious – but we hope the other couples work schedule will work with all of ours and not be too onerous. At the least, the very opposite energy should be out of the house by the end of March and things will get better. And if not, well, it’ll be spring and I’ll just spend that much more time camping!

But we make time for each other and perhaps the opposite energy person has driven us together in some ways. We share our own positive energy together while leaving the other energy behind. We escape to our room and snuggle in.

She has been flirting hard with me the past few days and we’ve been sharing more than just the usual FLR porn, but a combination with couples fucking. She’s been hinting at hard fucking and that’s exactly what I’ve been able to give her a few times this weekend already. It all ends up being in service to her, though I do take a delight in fucking her so hard that it makes her silent. She’s able to make me cum in seconds if she’s able to taunt me verbally, so being able to make her silent is a key skill in being able to fuck her hard and long. So I exploit that where I can. And yet, when I first head into us fucking, I’ll be the one on my knees next to the bed, lapping at her asshole as she moans and wiggles her ass in response to my oral attentions. While that’s happening my hand squeezes my cock to bring it to hardness. If she’s particularly impatient, she’ll taunt me verbally, calling me her dirty boy, ordering me to get my tongue in there. But usually she just lets me take my time, get the cock hard and then dive in deeply to spread her pussy wide open. I often long for her to be more verbal while I’m licking her, but that might end up being self defeating, right? Her words get me hard, and I fuck her once I’m hard. So if she speaks more, I get hard quicker and she gets less oral attention. Well, she wouldn’t have to get less oral attention if she ordered me to keep my face down there and pleasure her that way. Hrmmmm… something to consider.

In the past few days we’ve shared a few robust fucking sessions. This morning she reveled in my struggles to keep from cumming. She also smiled widely as I orgasmed while fucking her, still no spilling. But she also was more than happy to tease me as I came to her afterward, her hand on my stiff prick and her mouth in my ear whispering the dirty things she thinks, driving me to the edge and making me utter “Stop!” – at which time she’d smack my body somewhere.

This has been a terrible random rambling post, but it is a little bit of a flare shot into the sky to let y’all know we’re still here. Your comments and questions are always appreciated. Feel free to say hello. We do enjoy it.

Tech

I’m trying to move the blog from one location to another. It’s possible it’ll go away for a while. Hopefully not long. Cheers, folks! Wish me luck!

On denial, service and pleasure

We were in bed and both feeling amorous and she wanted to take me inside her. “Get that cock hard… “

I started getting my cock hard for her and she asked “Why aren’t you hard for me already?”

I let her know about how, with the exception of morning wood, it’s rare for me to be able to simply summon an erection without her input into it. Without her asking for it, demanding it, whispering about things – without her involvement. It’s taken a long time to get to that point, but it really is a case that my physical arousal is almost always contingent on her being present and wanting me to be aroused. Sure, there are others that I am with at times and I find my way to arousal, but it does take time.

It was a kind of casual fucking we were sharing and we talked as we entwined our bodies and she took her pleasures from me. “How long has it been since you spilled?”

“44 days” offering that latest denial length.

“What’s the longest you’ve gone… “ I was unable to answer precisely. I knew there was a time of 122 days. And I know there were times of other durations around 100 days, over and under.

“But it doesn’t matter much to me” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so not worried about cumming any more” I explained as I slowly fucked her. “I like the orgasms I can have, but I’m not so worried about cumming. It’s just not as important as being part of your pleasure.” She smiled, pulled me into her with her leg.

“Go on… “

“I love being part of your pleasure. And it’s cliche, but I really do enjoy pleasuring you.” We paused speaking as we fucked. “Cumming is great, but I don’t like how I feel after and it’s far better feeling you cum around me.” I pinched at her nipple and she gasped. “I feel bad that I sometimes have to stop fucking because I’m too close to cumming. I wish I’d be able to fuck you exactly the way you want and not have to stop. I’m okay with you pushing me out when you’re done. To have me pull out when you tell me to heel, to have me stop once your pleasure is done.”

“I’m done, pull out” she said abruptly. I whimpered and pulled out.

We spoke some more and soon went to bed. She told me to blog about my denial, my service, my orgasms, my cumming.

I find myself in this cliche world that I really do enjoy her taking her pleasure from me. And while it’s sometimes defeating when she orders me to heel, to pull out, I do try to remember that it’s what I’m asking for. And I really do wish that I was able to fuck in whatever way she wanted for as long as she wants. And that she’d be able to speak any of the words and stories she’d like that would drive me crazy would not push me over the edge, but only to the edge where she could have me dangle for minutes on end all while she watches me struggle and writhe and whimper. And in the same way keep me hard, ready and fucking her until she was able to take her orgasm and then be done with me. I’ve mentioned n the past to her that I wish that my orgasm could be triggered by her granting permission – that perhaps I wouldn’t be able to cum unless she uttered some certain words or phrase – that my cumming would be 100% totally within her hands. I wonder sometimes if we could achieve that with training or hypnosis. I’ve been reading some information about the Masters and Johnson technique.

When I do cum, my behavior changes for a few days. It’s not the best of experiences although I’ve tried to become better with it – and I think with some noticeable improvement. But she does like my cumming. She likes my submission in cleaning up after myself and she simply likes making me do it. It’s enjoyable for her to make me cum, so of course she should be having me do so.

And yes, I accept my denial. I enjoy it. I get off on being told I can’t get off. But I’m not one of those people that never ever wants to cum again. Even if she never made me cum again, I’d still want to know that there’s some hope that I will cum. Even if she picks up the goalpost and moves it every week, I need to know that there’s a goalpost out there. “Oh, pup, maybe in summer we can let you cum… “ and then Fusion can come and go and a birthday and then we find ourselves having the last gin and tonic on Labor Day weekend and she can suggest “pup, perhaps you’ll have something to be thankful for in November? You can wait until then, right?” And then we’d find the new year coming around with promises that the present not given might come in the next year. THAT is the kind of denial I’m looking at. I’m not the type that fantasizes about her saying “Pup, we’re locking you up until the next decade, then we’ll throw some dice to see if you cum.” No, not that at all. And yeah, yeah I also do enjoy her whispering to me the stories of my not cumming again… but it does always turn up that we have a goalpost – but just not always. Damn, I’m awfully needy about my denial!

I’m not sure if there’s much of a POINT to this post, but let me try and sum up, as I write a distracted post. I do love pleasuring her. I do love cumming. I do love denial. And I love her tormenting me with her denying my spill. I wish I could fuck better and bring her more pleasure in that way without having to pullout. That’s a real nuisance. But I still very much enjoy our time together and our coupling and her taking pleasure. It’s a beautiful thing and I enjoy being there with her.

Let sleeping dogs lie

That’s the saying, at least. Let sleeping dogs lie. But this week, without her, my sleep has been horrible. Earlier in the week I felt sick, then took a day off, then felt depressed (likely because she isn’t here), so my insomnia kicked in, so I didn’t sleep, but I got a nap Wednesday during the storm, then the annoyance and depression and another late night, making me tired. Add in multiple times waking up in the morning with my caged cock pressing at the cage and pulling my balls painfully away from my body… that last hour or two of sleep kept being a case of “fall asleep, get hard, wake up, go back to sleep… ” for hours. So those hours of sleep were terrible.

I hope she’ll come back and I’ll be able to sleep well. I really would like a good night’s sleep. Perhaps, if her plan continues as original, I might take a tylenol PM and let that help me sleep… but we’ll see. I have a long “after work” period ahead of me – whether or not she’s home tonight or tomorrow, so…

I suppose the bottom line is that I’m looking forward to her return for many reasons, but I hope it also means useful sleep returns again.

Paws in the morning

I already mentioned our first try out of the paws and we did end their use in the morning, but I have a mind that wanders. More accurately, I have an incredibly pornographic and fantasy laden mind. And my mind wandered into that land while I was rousing in the morning. Here’s where my mind wandered…


Slowly I woke, my mind rousing, wondering if last night happened. My hands – or lack thereof – reminded it had happened. Like many mornings I woke with an erect cock and my hands tried to touch it but that wasn’t possible, given the mitts on my hands. I was fortunate she had not clipped them together or to any places where she might have locked them into a static place.

I thought I smelled bacon and toast. I knew I smelled coffee.

She came into the room, shutting off our white noise generator and patted me on the head. Her hands checked out my mitts – still completely secure.

“Come on, pup, time for the morning pee” she told me as she clipped the leash to my collar. Still drowsy I was roused quicker with a snap of the leash. Leaving bed, I was clad only in my collar and leash and the mitts on my hands. There was no way I could have put on my glasses. “Roommates are gone, pup, so let’s get you outside so you can do your business.”

I must have looked at her with some kind of look of incredulity.

“Oh, pup, it’s fine. Trust me” she smiled as she spoke.

Our home is odd with three doors to get to the outside. It’s quite the gauntlet. We got to the final door right before getting outside and I balked. She yanked on the leash twice, pulling me toward the door. I remained in the house. We live in a highly residential neighborhood. With kids around. I was not going outside in daylight so exposed. She knew it too. And she didn’t expect me to walk outside. But she did leave me standing there at the door as I got colder.

“It’s okay, boy, you don’t have to go out. Turn around.” She pushed my shoulders to spin me around and I saw in my blurry vision a bucket. She kicked it with her toe. “Come on pup, do your business.” I exhaled a couple times and was finally able to relax and pee into the bucket. There was no way for me to pinch it off with my finger, so I just did my best by exercising my PC muscle instead.

“You’ll take care of that before you leave for work, pup.”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

She led me back in the house and into the dining room. My smelling bacon was correct. And toast. I didn’t notice the eggs with my nose, but there they were. In a bowl. On the floor.

“You don’t seem grateful pup. I know you can’t handle utensils with your paws, so I made your breakfast bite sized!”

I really didn’t mind. In fact my cock did pulse a little thinking of all this, but there was one real problem with the meal; the eggs. They hadn’t quite gone cold, but they were, at best, tepid. And I loathe cold eggs. It’s almost a hard limit. But no doubt she knew this and still presented me this meal.

“Thank you Ma’am. Thank you for breakfast” I said as I got down on my hands and knees and got on with eating. It wasn’t that bad, but that texture of tepid scrambled eggs. With tepid cheese… I wasn’t gagging but on the path.

She also set down a mug with a straw to give me some coffee. The straw was an incredibly generous touch by her. It sure beat lapping it up from a dish and I appreciated that.

She sat near me as I ate, her foot occasionally tapping my body in various spots as I ate and she typed and sipped coffee. When I finished, I moved to her and kissed her foot as a thank you and lay down on the floor next to her. A few minutes later I was grateful for the opportunity to use the bathroom before my shower. She removed the mitts, the collar and bade me shower. When I was done, she directed me to clean the dishes from the floor and the bucket in the mudroom, which I did. Then I dressed and we made our way to our respective jobs. My morning was good, I would reflect as coworkers wished me “good morning” – and I smirked as I did so.

“Good morning, indeed!” was my typical reply.