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.

Collars

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I have two dogs. Aka, two boys. Two playthings. Two submissive men. One is John, my 24/7 boy. We live together. We’ve been together playing for over 10 years.  If you read the blog on even somewhat of a irregular basis, you know of our years and our adventures.

Not that long ago, Troy came sailing into our lives, a most pleasant addition. Troy is new to power exchanges, to kinky dynamics. He is lovely, sweet, funny, warm, loyal, smart, easy to be around. But my word….that boy is not as leash trained as he needs to be. That toy named troy is a slippery fellow. Not at all maliciously so, for I truly do not believe he resists the feel of a collar. Or the tug of a leash. Instead, he is the kind of pet that you’ll leave loosely tied up outside of a local shop on Main Street as you dash inside to get a cup of coffee. What happens when that happens? Well…

I’ll head into that figurative coffee shop, leaving outside my two dogs. Both tied lightly to a post outside the door. The pet named john will contently lay down. Head on paws, relaxed. He knows well this routine, and he has a wonderful strategy to occupy himself while his Mistress is indoors. My pup (john) knows that with his head resting on paws, and his eyes looking up, he’ll get to see lots of skirts, lots of legs, lots of high heels passing him by. He’ll often find people stopping to pet him, to admire him and his obedience. Most often he lays there, tail wagging, not a worry in the world. He knows I will return from my errand and will delight in seeing him there, waiting obediently.

Pet troy, on the other hand, is a different dog. He is younger, impish, distracted. He is just as happy, just as cute. But he has a knack for slipping out of that collar and away from the rope that secures him. He doesn’t go far, he doesn’t bother anyone. But he’ll wander up and down that sidewalk, nose to the pavement, distracted by the scent of a hot dog vendor, or he’ll follow a pretty lady, not realizing how far he is drifting. His tail wags steadily, he hasn’t quite figured out that a leash is a silent sort of instruction. He knows all the basic commands. “Sit”, “Shake”, “Beg”, “Heel”. He is even getting good at “Bend over”, “Present”. But “Stay” isn’t one he has quiet mastered yet.

And no, I am not at all referring to him cheating. Or being dishonest or disloyal. I am simply talking about a pet that slips off his leash because I don’t think he quiet feels he knows his place yet. To be fair to him, I don’t have him full time, so troy has to be in many different worlds in a week. Perhaps the adjustment is hard for him, I’m not sure. He is not yet taking My commands as gospel. When I say to him on a Monday “Stay. Wait for Me. Good boy.”, he’ll stay in the neighborhood, but he won’t always be at the spot where I expect him to be. I’ll whistle, and he’ll come running back, tail wagging, mud on his nose from the exploring, but not at all realizing that I anticipated him to be where I told him to be. I scowl at this, but smile too. He is lucky he is cute and inexperienced. I don’t feel angry at this. But I am realizing he needs more training. Perhaps not quantity, but rather quality. Quality training for my quality pet. He needs to learn that when I have him with me on the days I have him, his obedience needs to be complete. I will need to tie him tighter, make the collar snugger. My orders will have to be more stern, more direct.

I wonder if he knows I have a shock collar for such training needs. I don’t use it often, because it’s a rather intense form of instruction. But I’m thinking it’s time to break it out of it’s case, charge up the batteries, and give it a test or two.

Troy will respond well to this, I think. He might not like it, but he’ll learn from it. I feel rather certain of this.smile dog

 

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Ruff Days!!

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My dog crawling around on his hands and knees, seeking a treasure from the sea

I couldn’t resist choosing this as the title. I giggle at it, smiling at the memories that are revealed in the photos for this post, and those memories make me happy.

It’s been a challenging couple of weeks for my pup. I empathize with the curve balls life has thrown him. Nothing insurmountable, nothing that time and patience won’t heal, but still – pain in the ass stuff. Mostly around his car. And travel plans.  And work. And logistics. All first world problems, we know. But still, we can feel it. It squeezes him much differently than I squeeze him. I dare say he likes My pressure much more than life pressure right now.

I’ve worked with care to keep him on a short leash during this time. My dog can have his day, but his upset is only allowed to go so far. He is not permitted to bring cranky into the bed. Like dust on a dog, he must shake it off before getting naked and jumping beneath the covers with me.

The other day we went to a small, local beach that is not widely known. It’s our secret gem right outside of the biggest city in the state. Being Maine, that isn’t too big of a thing, but still… it’s so wonderful to have it. It is really only accessible during low tide, and when the waters retreat, a beautiful little stretch of beach reveals itself to whose who know of its carefully hidden location. If there are 15 people on the beach, it’s crowded. It’s a place where almost anything goes. Small groups of adults will gather with a bottle of wine and a plate of nosh and watch the sail boats go by. Kids can strip down to their underpants and take a quick swim before heading home, and no one cares. And dogs are allowed off leash, at all times.

Nosh at secret beach

Nosh at secret beach

I took my boy there the other day. It was during the height of his crankiness. He probably would have rather stayed home, but I insisted that he come with me. We packed up and off we went. The tide was perfect, the day was stunning. And because dogs are permitted off leash, my boy was under strict orders to be under voice control at all times.

I got him up off his chair and ordered him to find a way to crawl around the beach area on his hands and knees. “But there are people here, all around us” my boy mildly protested. “I don’t care” was my reply. “Find a way to do it, and do it now” was my final answer.

And so he did.

Feigning a make believe interested in exploring up close the tiny sea critters that climb among the rocks when the tide is right, my boy crawled on his hands and knees. I was walking next to him, and to the average onlooker, it appeared as though my man was intently exploring some type of marine biology with intellectual passion, but really, he wasn’t. He was following my softly spoken commands.

Crawl for Me, boy. That’s it… crawl forward on your hands and knees”.

And he did.

Dig in the sand, boy. Find Me a gift. Dig for me. Fetch me a sea present“.

And he did.

Sniff something, pet. Put your face down low, and sniff something for Me“.

He did.

Dig for me, pet. Use that paw, and dig me a hole“.

Of course, he did.

If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that we aren’t really into puppy play. It is somewhat rare that we actually do this sort of thing. We will use little, endearing dog references, but otherwise, puppy play is not our thing. But on this day, it was. I was enamored at the opportunity to play in public like this. It is one of my favorite things to do. Right out in the open, in public, for anyone to see, my boy was crawling around on his hands and knees, following the softly spoken orders that I gave him. No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. People walked by him, engaged in their own conversations, and occasionally someone would smile at the man on his hands and knees, exploring the rocks and seaweed, accompanied by a woman who was taking pictures. The only thing that could have made this better would have been to have him naked, with toy troy next to him. In my mind, and in my imagination, he was very naked. And collared. And leashed. Because even in a playground with few rules such as this one, it’s nice to have order.

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Gift from the sea. The sand dollar that my boy found while digging, placed on his back, next to the brand I had placed on his skin a year ago.

 

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My feet, and his hand, as he crawls near the rocks, digging and sniffing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Post from Troy (part II)

It’s late fall 2015 and as we continue getting to know each other, the holidays creep into our lives.  This can be tricky for anyone in a triad as life seems to involve more time with vanilla family and friends, making a triad sometimes awkward and difficult to explain to some people.  I find we have to leave one of us out in situations where our lifestyle is simply not appropriate for public knowledge.  Think company Christmas parties for example….”Hi this is my girlfriend Chloe and my boyfriend John” WOW that would have the water cooler gossip folks talking! We made do, however.  We gave each other significant space for our individual family and work obligations and included one another when appropriate.  We certainly enjoyed some quality Fmm CFNM frolicking times in private together (Grins)!

One holiday gathering that was particularly memorable was a ladies only gift wrapping party at their house (Remember, I live less than 2 miles away but we do not cohabitate).  john and I were in complete service mode – although very discreetly.  We wore our collars on our ankles, covered by our pants…john in slave (Thai fishing) pants, me in jeans (because at this time I had yet been provided with slave pants from Ms. Chloe). There was no obvious outward display of our submissive roles outside of the very attentive service we provided to her and her guests. I was introduced to many of Ms. Chloe’s girlfriends that evening and even some family members.  I didn’t learn till after the party was over that several attendees knew of our exact situation and my role in our newly formed relationship. This was quite exciting actually and made me giggle a bit.  You see, I can be a bit bratty sometimes and often giggle in uncomfortable yet exciting scenarios like this… this bratty behavior has resulted in a deserved spanking or two by Ms. Chloe; this was  a giggle moment, but I digress.  john and I set up wrapping tables, handed out tape, paper and ribbons, kept wine glasses topped off, served snacks and made ourselves useful to the very lovely ladies in attendance (6 total as I recall).  This was one of the first times that John and I worked as a service team together to please Ms. Chloe.  Sure, there were stumbles on my part.  This is a new space, someone else’s kitchen, lots of Ms. Chloe’s preferences to still learn about and all new people to figure out.  But it was very fun and we continued to learn more about each other. I continued being mentored by john on how Ms. Chloe likes things done… from the way her cocktails are made to the way her towels are to be folded.  She likes things done VERY PROPERLY and has very high standards and I needed to learn exactly how to meet these service related expectations if I was to last.  That evening I was also told by Ms. Chloe that I was to have a full STD screening if I was to ever to play sexually with them (or their friends) as not only knowing one’s STD status is irresponsible and remaining disease free is very important to our triad… Pressure!

It was also around this time that I was made aware of “Kinky Camp”  and asked by Ms. Chloe if I would be available to attend it with them in June.  What, you ask, is this place?  It was described to me as a clothing optional, lifestyle tolerant summer camp experience filled with old friends, fellow kinksters, and the opportunity to explore many new sexual experiences.  Ms. Chloe and john have attended this event for years as a couple and are well known there.  If I was to attend as their toy, I would have to be on my best behavior as not to in any way embarrass Ms. Chloe. We would share a cabin with many others and share one king size bed with john and I sleeping naked on each side of Ms. Chloe for three spectacular nights. Perfect!  I eagerly agreed to attend.  This event being 6 months away and our unique relationship being brand new, although we were all certainly optimistic that this trip together would come to fruition, we all had realistic reservations that me joining them may never actually materialize.  Also, the secret location of this camp is a 10 hour drive from home in Portland, Maine so there would be those logistics to overcome. Lots of fun continued through the cold Maine winter which I will write about in future posts, but fast forward 6 months… It was camp time and i was going!  Ms. Chloe and john took the week off from work and drove to the event where they actually helped set it up.  I was only able to wrangle a Friday-Monday escape, so I flew in and ubered there joining them 4 days into their kinky adventure.  I arrived at Camp in full swing (pun intended), I was wide eyed, open minded and collared as owned, but had no idea what to actually expect.   Let’s just say that the next four days was full of thrills, titillation and unforgettable new experiences.

An open letter to My boys

My dearest john, My lovely troy-

Lovely ladies from under the tableI am deeply aware of how chaotic our summer has been. Normal, I suppose, as it seems that the short summer season of New England tends to have many things packed into a few lovely months. We are used to this, I know, and we accept it. But it still can be hard to feel September nipping at our heels, knowing that we have not had enough opportunity to play naked in the woods, to swim in the moonlight, to tangle in the middle of hot summer nights.

I think we agree that we do the best we can. I feel great confidence and pride in us! I am fully aware of how many people are out there in the world seeking meaningful, kinky partnerships, and I feel lucky to have the dynamics that we do. We may not get to play as often as we’d like, but every week, and every day, we have some connection to our kink, and this makes Me happy.

I continue to find little opportunities to let you shine in your service to me. Sometimes there are big ones and sometimes there are the small ones. John wrote about that yesterday… the small and overt ways he demonstrates his service to his world. Troy has been demonstrating this daily with his checking in with me while John is away, with his little displays of affection and devotion. None of it is missed by Me.

But it’s the more public displays of service that make us all especially happy. When I can show you off and watch you shine.

Another opportunity has arisen, boys, and despite how busy we are, I am going to ask you to do what you can in the name and spirit of that service. Service to Me, and the events I hold dear.

You’ve done this before, the two of you. You have answered the call when I have asked you to perform, and you have done it wonderfully.

You are being called upon again. Will you be available? Are you able to serve me and a tribe of sexy women as we gather to sip wine and socialize? Will you be able to bestow upon us your culinary delights, and leave with us a sampling of your labors??

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The stunning nosh that troy provided during our last sexy ladies gathering. Unfortunately not photographed….the amazing cocktails by john.

Our lovely lady friend Miss C is again hosting a gathering this Friday night at 5pm. There will be several women in attendance. Men will be permitted after 6:30pm.

Not knowing if either of you were available, I asked Miss C that if one or both of you were able to contribute either specialty cocktails or gourmet nosh, would she want what of you? Her sexy voice got sexier as she gushed, “Oh my gosh, YESSSS, of course”.  She proceeded to add that it was not expected, that there was no pressure, but that of course she would love it if you wanted to give such offerings.

I thought about that.., the part where she said ‘if they want to’. My mind flashed (while my mouth remained quiet) that it was not so much a matter of if they ‘wanted to’, but rather if they are able to. It truly does not matter to Me that on occasion I ask your service because I selfishly want your service. Most times, I try to create opportunities that I know you’ll enjoy. But sometimes, I don’t. This is one of those times.

I would love it dearly if you were able to make a contribution to the evening with the gift of your skills. I would delight in knowing that you were able to give to us in this way. If you are able to join us around 6:30pm, your presence is greatly desired by all. I don’t know what scheduling conflicts might interfere with this, but I am putting it in front of you so that you have time to decide. Will you be able to toil in some way for us?

It is not the quantity of things you provide, but rather the quality. You both are wonderful at detail – it is one of your greatest gifts. I smile at the thought of the efforts you have shown in the past. It makes me proud.

So, there you have it. An opportunity to be in service while in the company of many. You know……and I know….that many women who are invited know of our dynamic. I love this as well. They look at you, wondering where the collar is hidden, wondering how you’ll be rewarded or punished, wondering if your asses are plugged as you serve. Not every woman in attendance will have this inside information, but many will. And that is very much a part of the thrill for Me.

Do let me know. The party will go on without you, of course, but the pleasure of your company and attention is greatly desired. I have not been able to walk the two of you on a leash at the same time in quite a while. It matters not to me that it is a virtual leash in the vanilla company of others. It’s a leash none-the-less. I’m hoping you can be on the end of it.

Do let me know.

Mme.

 

 

 

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The List

I wake nearly each morning entangled in my boy’s leash. That is because I sleep each night with one end  wrapped around my wrist, and the other end attached to my boy’s collar. I miss waking and quietly extracting myself from that entanglement. Being an early riser allows me to look down upon his sleeping, naked, collared form and I miss starting my day that way.

I miss setting aside coffee for him. I miss whispering in his ear before I leave for work the small chores I expect him to accomplish before he leaves for the day.

I miss telling him what he can expect for the evening. I like telling him what he might be cooking for dinner, whom he might be serving for supper, what cocktails I am in the mood for, if any at all.

When others are around, I can give him a look from across the room, and he knows that I am calling him to my side. And when we are alone, I miss uttering the single word ‘Come’, knowing that he will get up from whatever he is doing and come to me. And if I snap and point, he’ll crawl to me.

I miss looking over at him in the kitchen. I drink in his sexy, muscular male form, and I delight at watching his body move beneath a fitted shirt.

I miss his eyes upon me as they follow me when I head to bed for the night. He silently gets up and follows, closing the door softly behind me.

I miss the kneeling he does as I stand before him at night.

I strip naked, and he folds the clothes as they fall off my body. He will bend from that position and kiss the tops of my feet. My toes. My ankles. And when I choose to turn, his lips will kiss my thighs, the cheeks of my ass, the small of my back.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it's unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it’s unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

I do nothing at night but strip naked, and get into bed. I lay there in pillows, watching him pick up after me. Occasionally he’ll pull my panties to his face and breathe in deeply and smile. Often times I will have him wear those same soiled panties to work the next day. I miss that too.

I miss what happens or doesn’t happen in the nighttime hours. Sometimes there is sexy, torrid torture, and sometimes I simply grab and squeeze his balls while his whimpers lull me to sleep.

Most nights there are back rubs and petting. He gives and I receive. He works while I sleep.

And every night, there is the worshipful cleaning. The homage. The pleading look that cuts through the dark, where he feels my nod more than he sees it. I will feel his beard upon the skin of my back as he kisses his way downward beneath the covers. Many night he will lay inverted… his face against My ass, his arms wrapped around My legs, his body pressed against mine.

It’s like a thousand warm hands touching me. I am missing each and every one of those hand.

Come back to me soon, my pup. Life is not nearly the same without you.

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Finding those moments

I am alone these days. More alone than I have been in a while. “Life interuptis” has created this somewhat solitary path, and I walk down it not feeling necessary alone, but very much feeling the absence of my boys. All of us are busy, and all of us are spread out in different and various directions. We accept this. We understand it. We nod to one another, knowing that we will come together again. But in the meantime, each of us are doing what we need to be doing. And part of what we need to be doing is finding those little moments that connect us all.

I left last Wednesday for a trip south to meet up with college friends. I could not have asked for a better set of sun-filled days with outstanding vanilla friends. We stayed at a humble, cozy beach house in Fenwick Island, gathered under clear skies as we lounged in front of big, warm ocean waves.

John, in the meantime, was gone upon my return. He is off on a two week camping/exploring adventure with his boys. I won’t see him for at least 11 more days. That feels like a really big number right now.

And Troy… Troy is busy with work and life. This is the peak of his busy season at work, so I have not wanted to demand too much of him right now, knowing that his plate is as full as it could be.

All of this leaves me without the boys. I am still very involved with family matters, and those matters are pretty much taking up all of my time. I am okay with that. More than okay, really. I am doing the right thing by standing by my family, doing what needs to be done. But what pokes at me is the balance of it all. I feel this urge not to lose my kinky parts in all of this vanilla. It can be so easy to do… to literally watch from my office chair all of the kinky thoughts and ideas slowly drift away because I don’t have the time or inclination to to flirt with them. I have felt this consistent prodding from deep within me to keep the balance. To be all things to all people, but in a good way. It would be easy to fall completely into kink, and it would be natural to focus exclusively on family. I am doing neither.  I am challenged in an inspiring way to do a good job with both.

I loved my time at the beach. My girlfriend Sasha has an amazing husband named Rory. He is a strong willed man with a deeply satisfying submissive streak that runs through him. He would call it being a good host, but I see it a bit differently. I loved the way he brought us tall, sweating glasses of gin and tonics at 6pm as we sat lingering on the near empty beach, not wanting to end the day. I stood back and smiled as he scurried to set up our chairs and umbrellas at the start of each day. At the house, he would postpone his own shower until all of the women had taken theirs. Our glasses were never empty, our bodies sat in the most comfortable chairs, he fretted over the ambience, he played the best music. In his presence, the candles never died out and air was always slightly perfumed. Add to this the fact that this man is no pushover… he is the quiet one in quiet charge of a lot of things, and yet when this gaggle of women and friends gets together, our every comfort is his singular focus.

I usually visit Sasha and Rory with John. For years, we have made our pilgrimage to the south a joint venture. But this year, scheduling did not allow it and I had to go without my boy. I felt the empty place where John should have been… where he wanted to be. I missed John being with me. John and Rory are an amazing team of men catering to women.  I tried to honor his empty place at the table by being who and how I am… Me. Dominant, mischievous, playful, assured. I am other things too, and not all of those other things are the best of Me, but I did make a conscious effort to receive the service that was bestowed upon me, knowing that John would be most happy this way. It felt a little odd to be viewing the vanilla Rory in this private light, but not too much so. I rather enjoyed it once I found my comfort zone. Rory played cabana boy when John and Troy could not. And I rather enjoyed letting him.

Oh Cabana Boy

Oh Cabana Boy

I sat for many quiet hours on that stunning beach, people watching and wave watching. I looked up and down the beach and let a thousand kinky thoughts run through my mind. I created micro fantasies in nearly everyone I watched. Simple moments became kinky scenes. No one was safe from my growling imagination, and in all of this, I kept my boys close to my side.

John sends me beautiful pornography many times a day…..dozens of images of sexy torture. I don’t often have the time to properly reply, and I certainly don’t have the drive or even internet knowledge to return the gesture. But what I do do is to take those images and run with them… down the long stretch of beautiful beach, being careful not to spill the icy drink that I hold in my hand.

I love these boys. Even in absence, I adore them. My bed is empty without John in it next to me. My week feels void if I don’t get to spend time with Troy, who nurtures and serves Me in the most loving of ways. When I cannot have them beneath me, I try harder to keep them with me. Some days are better than others, but I do find those moments. I hope they know that.

Post from troy…

Hello blog readers, this is Toy Troy, Ms. Chloe’s secondary toy, plaything and sub in training. I also consider myself to be in some sort of a unique relationship with her primary sub, John. I don’t know what label to adhere to this part of our triad, but I will say that it’s mutually respectful, evolving, caring, certainly not filled with jealousy in any way and is generally very good. The triad we have works for me… I hope it works for both of them. I read, but have not ever contributed to this blog before. Ms. Chloe has instructed me to contribute and share my story, our story, and my experiences venturing into this wild kinky world with you. My writing style differs from both Chloe and John. I admire their art of the pen and am admittedly a bit intimidated by their writing prowess. I will contribute on occasion, organized in a timeline by what I hope will provide insight and answers to common questions about me and our relationships for any and all inquiring minds.
Desk writing
A bit about me
I am a 47 year old divorced dad living in Southern Maine. I am type “A” person with a professional career where I am very much in control and in charge of many people and large budgets. I go to work every day, own where I live, pay my bills on time, pay my taxes, invest in my 401K and usually stop at red lights and adhere to all of the social norms society demands. Some may say for the most part that I am fairly boring. I am currently regaining the fit body of my younger years by eating a strict Paleo diet and working out religiously, low impact, 6 days/9 hours a week. Abs by 50? Perhaps.
How the three of us met
I would like to say we met at a museum, doing some significant volunteer work, walking a cute puppy, etc. Truth is, we met on Craigslist last fall. I answered Ms. Chloe’s ad seeking an additional sub male to join her and her primary submissive, john. It was a long shot and I held little to no expectations that anything would ultimately materialize, but I sent my best reply and waited. What I now know to be a common occurrence, Ms. Chloe was just about to venture off to another state for a fun filled weekend, but she wrote back promising to catch up with me when she returned. She did! We easily wrote to one another over a week or so. We gained a bit of trust and shared the early personal stuff necessary to vet each others levels of honesty and sanity. There was good conversation, good banter, similar expectations and we discovered that we live and work ridiculously close to each other. About a week or two later, I requested the obligatory yet always stressful picture exchange. She agreed and sent a picture of her beautiful self. ZERO disappointments; this was exciting!
She wanted to have lunch, I eagerly agreed. She chose a convenient “corporate” chain type of place for it’s location over it’s ambiance or food quality. I again agreed. We met, we ate, we laughed, we hugged and I giggled at her probing questions about sex, sexuality, kink and my secret desires. I think the waitress caught a bit of our conversation, I blushed, this was fun! She was as beautiful as her picture and her personality and take charge aura and sexual openness were qualities I found to be simply intoxicating. We talked about my kinky experiences. I shared that they were almost nonexistent. I am bi, that part was important to her as a loving triad with she and John was her ultimate goal. I certainly am no prude, but was just out of a monogamous, 10 year long, very vanilla marriage. I had never been submissive, certainly had never been spanked, paddled, collared  or flogged! Was I ready for all of this? She instructed that the next date would include John. I smiled.
The second date
Ms. Chloe instructed that we would all be doing dinner at a local upscale bistro, the chance for the two boys to finally meet. He and I had never spoken or communicated in any way prior to this. She instructed both of us to dress nicely for her, shirt & tie required. Both of us were also instructed to give thought to and write down 5 questions in advance for one another to further gauge our interest and compatibility. Naturally we complied. Dinner was very nice, conversation flowed easily and the night was laughter and intrigue filled. Cocktails were enjoyed helping to alleviate any awkwardness as John and I grilled each other with questions about sex, experiences, desires and everything else we are taught never to talk about, society be damned. We quickly discovered that we were indeed all compatible, and all physically attracted to one another. John generously paid the bill and the night was concluded with hugs and cheek kisses all around.
Coming up next
The next few months, the holiday parties, meeting Ms. Chloe’s  girlfriends, more thoughts of being in my first ever triad, and our first vacation together and sharing one big bed at kinky camp!!!

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Not the best of days

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It has not been a good week. The past 4 weeks have been challenging, but this past week has been especially hard. All vanilla stuff. My wonderful, loving, family oriented dad got his legs kicked out from beneath him, and at age 76, he is dealing with a life altering sense of sorrow I have never seen him deal with before. A first world problem perhaps, but it’s a problem for him none-the-less and I am deeply saddened and distracted by it.

I spend my days at my job (thank god I really enjoy my work!) and I come home to my dad. I am with him  until he sleeps. Then I sleep. And then I get up and do it all over again. That’s pretty much how it’s been. I have not spent this much time with him in decades. I’m happy to do it, but it’s not without adjusting to it.

I have been amazingly fortunate. I have not had overly needy children or  parents. Nothing out of the ordinary. I come from self-sufficient stock, apparently.  I am well aware at what a wonderful thing this is. But now that has changed, and will stay changed for the immediate future. Not forever, or even for a long time. Hopefully, next week will bring a lot of resolution. But for now, this is how it is.

I have put mostly everyone on hold. It is all about him right now, as it should be. No nights out, no writing of the blog, no scheming or planning….fucking or beating.

I have had small moments where I feel seized with worry about my boys….my john and troy.  I don’t like feeling like I am not caring for them. It sounds and feels odd for me to say that. I am the Dominant, after all. But I see them as possessions. My cherished possessions. And out of necessity, I have had to put them on a shelf for a bit, and let them be.

But I also have bigger moments where I feel deeply confident in them. They know me, they know my family and they understand what I am dealing with. They are respectful, loving, loyal, caring, kind. Exactly what I want and need them to be. I think this is the first time that my vanilla life has so fully interjected itself into my kinky world for a prolonged period of time, and I sense that troy is not sure what to do. My guess is that he is giving me space and privacy, and I appreciate that. I am, however, disappointed that I didn’t get my flowers this week.  My table has been bare for days. Each week he is to bring me one small bouquet. I’ll admit that I feel disappointed. This is one of those rare and perhaps awkward times when no one is quiet sure what to do or how to act and so therefore we are just simply being good and kind to one another. And this is a good thing. I am not knocking it at all.

But I miss their attention. I miss time with them. I miss john. He pets my back and body every single night before I fall asleep, and I miss it. I miss the comfort of his quiet confidence. I miss how he knows me so very well and how he kneels before me as I undress for bed. I miss the homage he pays to my ass each night. I miss a thousand things about him. I miss troy cooking for me. I miss parading him around. He is tired too. It’s the craziest part of his year work wise. I don’t want to berate him for being as human as we all are. But dammit, boy…where are my flowers??

Sigh.

So….my point, exactly?? My point is this: I am just as awkward as any other human being right now. I am the boss of this domain, and yet I feel a bit powerless. I am the dominant, and yet I am wishing someone else would decide what’s for dinner, or what we’re going to do with the early evening hours. I don’t like these long leashed that are currently attached to my boys, and yet I appreciate very much that they aren’t tugging upon me, adding strain. I want things from them that feel selfish. And I feel guilty about feeling selfish. Yet… I have never apologized for wanting what I want. Right now, I want to demand things of them without having to spend the mental energy thinking about how I demonstrate that appreciation. I have moments in my day where I feel really damn demanding of them, but I have mostly been quiet. Add it all up, and it feels awkward. My kink feels awkward right now because I am not sure if I should let it all go and be pushy with them this week, or if I should not. Do I get louder, or quieter…..that’s the question.

I really miss kink. Good to know that it is right there waiting, but wow….I really miss it. Those boys had better watch out. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for.

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Lost count

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I’m not even sure what day it is. I’ve officially lost track of the count. Of the days. Of the numbers that signify the amount of time that has passed us by without my boy having a cum. I am going to guess it is somewhere around 140. Maybe even 150. Or is it maybe 133? I’m not sure. But when I think about such a thing, I immediately smile. It’s a smile that starts in my soul, crashes into my heart, and spreads across my face.  There is, though, one fleeting thought that cuts through that particular joy… a small thought, a guilty thought, scolding that I should know the number. The exact number. The number of days that I keep him in denial. I should not lose sight of such a number. But I have.

And then I smile again, letting that one fleeting thought have its moment, and then I push it out of my mind. It’s gone as quickly as it came. I heard the thought, I acknowledged it, I recognized it, and then I sent it away.

The point is, it’s a big number. So much so that I am losing track of it. I don’t know when it will stop growing. Eventually, it will end. But in the meantime, like coins piling up in a jar, I see all of the days tumbling together. I freely admit I like the this big number. Bigger is better, right?

I read my boys post. I am glad I did. I liked how it addressed some things I have been thinking about, things we have not yet talked about. I know how it can get for him… falling in to his submission too deeply, too hard, too completely.  That IS a risk, but we know this. We haven’t talked about it because it has not been an issue lately, but it can if we are not mindful. He is exactly right; I do not want a doormat. I don’t want everything that comes out of his mouth to be accompanied by the word “Ma’am“. That would irritate me. I love his mind, his thoughts and I value his opinions. I like seeing and feeling his strengths. 150 days has great potential to change him. It has changed him, but in ways that have affected his service, not his demeanor. He is better. He is more complete in his service. It no longer seems to be something that has an on/off switch. It just seems to be on at all times. This, I very much love.

It seems to me that the more he is locked down… the more he is denied… the more freedoms we gain. We have more range to live the 24/7 that we have slowly been working toward. We didn’t set out to do this it just happened. Slowly and over time we have inched our way to this place. We still get silly together, we still have disagreements, and once in a while, I’ll want him to pull my hair and I’ll want him to take the reins between the sheets. And he’ll do it. And it’s awesome. But then it’s back to normal for us. And that new normal is long term denial.

The topic of time is hard to put into words as time is a relative thing. Many kinky friends (especially the guy friends) are horrified that it’s been something around 150 days. To be fair, they are more likely mystified.  To me, it feels as though we are just getting started.

I told my boy the other night as I was torturing his cock that I might just not ever let him cum again. He cried. He pressed his face against my breast and wept. I continued to hurt him as I stroked his hair, whispering that I knew it hurt, but that it would be okay. I reminded him that he is my slave, my toy, my plaything and that I had no need for him to cum. He looked at me with love and despair; longing and contentment. It’s like a drug without drugs. The thought of not cumming enslaves him more than anything else, I think. And yet, we chose this. With full heart, soul, mind and body, we chose this.

That is very much a part of the smile that envelops me.