I really like the “blogroll” that is inherent in “Blogger” platform, but have not yet found a good plug in for wordpress to add it to our blog. Can anyone suggest a free plugin that updates the top recent stories from an assigned blogroll? I think I’ve found a paid one, but unsure it’ll do what I want and like many apps out there, there’s no return policy cited, so you spend money, find it won’t work and you’re out the money.

Your suggestions are welcome here! Thanks!


Yesterday was a very busy day, as I’ve mentioned. Madame was getting ready for her weekend away with friends off doing all that voodoo that they do so well*. In the morning, I went into our bathroom to get ready for my day and also add the “A ring” to my cock, as she had already indicated the day before that I’d be locked up in her absence. So, I’m putting the a-ring on and notice these bruises on my cock and remember “Yes, that’s right, she caned my cock!” The one large bruise near the bottom looked as though it was cause by the chastity a-ring, but I know it was not. It was caused by her caning me as a punishment. I’ll put the picture of it behind this jump, as anybody who doesn’t want to see my junk should not have to see my junk, especially BRUISED junk. Click on to read the rest.

Continue reading

Quick post

Wow, but there are a few more eyes on the blog this day and I thank you all for them, as well as thanking Paltego at and Tom Allen over at for listing us in their blogs. Very much appreciated.

This weekend, my Mistress is away to twirl herself around for remnants of “The Dead” and those around, and have herself a good time. I am spending time with kids up at the Ex’s place and in service to her for the “honey do” list she has. So that’s my plan here.

Work prevented more posts today as did watching a classic Mel Brooks movie with the kids and ex tonight, but I have promised a post per day over the weekend and I shall deliver, whether lascivious or not. So far, it’s looking like a good weekend. Thanks folks for the clicks. It’s very appreciated.



I am off to go twirl for a few days.

I spank, I discipline, I love, I demand, I laugh, I expect, I order, I administer, I own.

But I also twirl.

Yes. I am a kinky deadhead.

I am off for a weekend of Grateful Dead in NYC. Phil Lesh friday night, Grateful Dead Saturday…..or whatever combination of band members who are currently playing.

I leave behind my boy. He will be locked up, and I will wear the key to his chastity  as I twirl. I will think of him as I always do. I will miss him. I will wonder about what he might be doing in the name of service while I am gone. I know he will do something good in this way, as he always does.

I will be back. With rings on my fingers and bells on my shoes.



My scarlet letter, my stripes

Madame is right, there is a scarlet letter to be shared. In a previous post, she indicated that I should be a good boy and not snoop around. Well, I’m a curious one, sometimes too curious.

And last night, she caught me, absolutely, no doubt. She indicated she hadn’t received a lot of response to the ad she placed and inquired “Should I post it on $OTHERSITE?”. She had already started writing something there and had me come over. “Why don’t you cut and paste?” I asked as I looked at her first two paragraphs. “You don’t think it’s too long for $OTHERSITE, do you?” “No. Not at all.”

She smiled. I think she laughed too. I had actually started walking back toward the kitchen, as I was preparing dinner, so I couldn’t see if she was laughing at me for walking right into it.

And she had me. “So, you read it?”

I had. I had read it. I was sneaky and I broke her trust with my snooping. I perused the first site, which is not normally unusual, as we both keep our eyes on it from time to time. But I wasn’t casually looking there, I was deliberately looking for her post. I was snooping. I was being bad.

She later came up behind me and pulled my hair, whispering into my ear “The only thing that’s saving you right now is a roommate. If I had my way right now, I don’t care if you ruined dinner from it, but I would be whipping you so hard you’d be in tears on the kitchen floor.” And she would have. And I’d have completely deserved it.

He's caned, she laughs. I think I've seen this film before.

He’s caned, she laughs. I think I’ve seen this film before.

Instead of a whipping then and there, I received a caning when she returned from her evening event, as our roommate was out for a bit. She beat my backside, my shoulders, my thighs and even had me sit on the dining room table’s bench, spread my thighs and cane directly across the tops of my thighs and cock. She positioned it just right so that the end of the cane landed directly across my flaccid cock. Excruciating pain ensued.

This morning, while waking, I wondered to myself “I know I have that spot at my belt line that’s been giving me grief, but what’s with this spot on my thigh?” Then I looked beneath my robe to see the tell tale stripes of a caning. One of those marks is what was reminding me of what I did. My scarlet letter – there on my thigh. There are other scarlet letters on my chest, back and buttocks, but this one on my thigh was severe. I’m unsure if there are marks on my cock, to be honest, it’s been such a busy day, I haven’t looked. I better take a look soon, as I’m quite sure that while she is away, I won’t have the luxury to look at my cock as steel tubing is not transparent.

I think I might have been set up and while I don’t think she’s really upset in this, it does show a violation of her trust on my part and for that, I am guilty and I am sorry. I do want her to be able to trust me and I’m not sure I presented my best side to her in this. I am normally a far better man than that. And a better slave.

The Search

Short entry here. The search has begun. The ad has been placed. I am getting a few good replies, and many that do nothing for me. It can be awkward in the beginning. I understand that. What DO you say to a stranger when you are not certain that that stranger is even real? Or sane? Or genuine? I am all of those things. I can’t say it clearly enough….if you want me to be interested, then please be interesting.

It is amazing to me how many do not get that. I think everyone is interesting on some level, but some people don’t seem to know how to package themselves as interesting. I dislike it when a submissive writes to me, and they seem overly meek and down-trodden. Yes, I want a bowed head before me, but I want an upright personality with bright, sparkling eyes.  I won’t settle for less.

I am away this weekend, off to NYC, but I know my boy will keep the blog alive and well. I am very much looking forward to reading his post for today. His letters shall be scarlet today, I believe.

Until again………



So, the search becomes more real.

The drafting in my mind of what a personals ad might look like is becoming more than a vision.

It is more than a vision at this point.

It’s a real thing, with hopefully enough personality and description to attract the right person.

The search is for a play partner to add to our fold. To My fold. Someone who will be of service to me, and someone I can use to help train my boy.

I wonder how this will go. I feel as though I am taking tentative steps. My boy and I have not even begun our alone time in the house yet and a part of me feels wary of changing the dynamic. But, on the other hand, this is an occasional play partner I seek, and I know that I am free to see how this goes. I am free to find the exact right candidate, or choose nothing and no one at all if that is the best option.

I think about this a lot.

Let's just pretend she's reading the want ads, shall we? There's no menu here.

Let’s just pretend she’s reading the want ads, shall we? There’s no menu here.

I will share my journey here, and I am thinking that this might be the only way my boy is able to see the progress I am making. My boy is forbidden to go snooping, and he knows this. I trust him fully to be true to his word around this. I am using a public forum (the ad) for a personal need (the training). I do not want him sitting in the front row, watching this all unfold. Rather, I want him on his knees, in a corner, head bent, waiting for his Mistress to make her decision. That is what I want.

Part of me wants to ask others what they would put in an ad if they were in my shoes. What would you say? How would you phrase it?? I am not stuck on what to say, but I am curious on the opinions of others. This blog does not seem to be all that interactive, but occasionally I wish it were. This is one of those times. I smile.

If you were a male submissive, and you found an ad from a woman who was seeking someone like you, what would you want it to say? What would grab your attention? What would be the pleasure buttons in it…..what would make you shy away, perhaps?? I wonder about this. I am confident in my ability to express myself, so I am not faltering in this task. Merely, I am curious. I like knowing how others think sometimes. And when it’s just the two of us in our kinky dynamic, I sometimes want the intellectual connection with others.

This is one of those times.

The ad will be placed, and the future will unfold. I hope my boy is ready for this if the exact right person comes along. He had better be.

Again, I smile.

Chivalry or submission?

Part of my morning rituals getting to work involve me going past a beauty school. Not sure why it’s where it is, but it’s there. And sometimes I happen to be lingering in my car when I’m there (don’t judge me, I just need my caffeine!). Since I caught this again for the second time, I just had to mention a repeated occurrence. A man and woman in their domestic sedan pull up to the front door, her door closest to the beauty school entrance. She gets out, ascends the stairs, coffee in hand, other hand empty, enters the school. He gets out of the drivers side door, goes around to the rear passenger door, fetches her stylist case (large rolling case – like a Pullman suitcase) from the backseat and brings it up the stairs, brings it inside and then returns to the car. He then parks. I don’t linger enough to know how long he stays in the parking area, whether it is all day or not, but he is certainly serving that woman.

I wonder about them. I wonder if their relationship is like mine with Madame. Does he serve her at home and out of the home? Is he a submissive? A slave? Does he kneel in front of her and lick her pussy at her direction? Is he restricted from orgasm? Does he have free reign to her pussy? Is there relationship sexual at all? Or does he just enjoy serving her? Or… and here’s the biggest question – perhaps that’s “just how he is” that he’s always that helpful. Perhaps he is just always a nice guy, always playing that part in all his relationship? Maybe he’s just an Uber driver!

But I can’t help but daydream about this couple. His Mistress isn’t a student, but an instructor at the beauty school and has not just taught her students, but has taught him how to care for ladies. He’s well versed in manicures, pedicures, hair styling or all sorts, waxing and any other personal needs a woman would have. He leaves the parking lot and goes to his massage class, an advanced class, as he’s already been giving her and her friends massages all the time. He returns to bring her a hot lunch each afternoon before he goes back to their home and finishes with household chores. He returns to pick her up and has been wearing a plug up his ass since he started vacuuming the house.

But I don’t actually know. I’ve never seen him leave the parking lot, but I know he does. I’ve never seen him pick her up. Maybe he’s just helping because she’s temporarily injured. Or maybe she’s just a bitch and orders him around without the love of a Mistress and slave, but that of some bitchy hairdresser.

He carries the bags

He can carry the shopping bags

I will often day dream about simple acts of chivalry I see. A man opening a door, or picking up a dropped item for a woman is enough to set my mind to wandering. The grocery store where what seems like an able bodied person* requesting help with the groceries at the car makes me wonder if the requester and subject already have a relationship they can’t let on.

I can wax poetically and write beautifully filthy fantasies about nearly anyone I see engaging in chivalrous acts. But then, I’m a dirty dog, and I know it. And my lovely Mistress likes keeping me as this dirty, horny, hungry dog that I am. She really does like my hunger.

So, apologies to all your dashing gentlemen that are simply being gentlemen, but I’m throwing you under the Mistress’ bus and turning you into a submissive you never knew you were.



*I am aware that handicaps are not always visible and I don’t assume much, but this is more fuel for my fantasy fire than assuming anything else.


It is getting way easier.

It is coming far more naturally.

I am liking how this feels more and more and more.

I am wondering with pleasure, impishness and real curiosity exactly how far this might go.



It was not always easy for me to have my boy do the things for me that I can efficiently do for myself. I have spent my entire adult life doing the things that need to be done. From the mundane to the extra curricula, I’ve been one of those people who is task oriented, and someone who writes and completes lists of things to be accomplished.

When I work alone,  I am ensured that things will be done to my standards, that things will be done the way I want them done, and I won’t have to compromise with someone when I don’t really want to compromise. Someone elses’ way is not the ‘wrong’ way. It just not be the way I want it done.

Like cooking.

Or gardening.

Or grocery shopping.

Or laundry.

I can envision what I want the end result to be, and I don’t really see anything else. This has served me well enough in my life, and I am not unhappy I have chosen to be this way. It doesn’t make me anti-social, it doesn’t make me crazy, and it doesn’t make me unappreciative of others.

But I also know that my standards for things can be unnecessary, and that without intending to, I can take away the super power of someone else who wants to help.

Like my boy.

More times than I can recall over the past couple of years, he has come upon me doing a task, and he will look at me with some hybrid of an expression, and what I see in his eyes says more than the words that befall me. He will say to me quietly, “I can do that, Ma’am”, and I will realize that I am taking away an opportunity for him to serve.

I have needed the time to settle on these thoughts. I have had to wrestle away the guilt of doing little while he does much.

I don’t want to be lazy, and I won’t be lazy with certain things, but I am also understanding how personalized a service oriented person can be.

My boy likes service. I am beginning to understand he needs it on some level. A good level. A large level, perhaps.  A healthy, comfortable, happy level.

I am trusting his desire to serve. I am trusting the good psychology of it.

And I am smack-dab in the middle of fully and truly realizing how wonderful this really is.

Something inside of me is waking up. Perhaps it is a confidence, perhaps it is a permission, but whatever it is, it is coming fully, readily and easily.

It also comes with baggage. Lots of baggage. Really, really good baggage.


Bags filled with toys.

Bags filled with fantasies.

Bags filled with opportunity.

Bags filled with creativity and purpose.

Together, we seem to be unpacking this gear.

Of course, we will do it MY way, but indeed, we are doing it together.

I want to write more, but I am out of time for now. I wanted this post to be sexier, hotter, even raunchier, but it seems that I needed to say this stuff first. I am feeling done with the internal wrestling. I am feeling good that I have taken the time to see this all unfold, and to let this part of our relationship go where it naturally wants to go.

My boys wants to serve.

Oh wow…..I am sooo ready for this.








Big Bed

I like how my boy was ordered to sleep last night.

It is interesting to me that after years and years of sleeping together, we still find ways of mixing it up.

We have been house sitting for the weekend. They have an enormous bed…..huge, comfortable and completely smothered in heavy down comforters and pillows. It is luxurious. Sexy. Regal, even. It is much more space than what we are used to. It is one of those sleeping spaces where you want to go to bed at 7pm, just so you lose yourself in a sea of blankets.

Except that I couldn’t sleep. I was too hot. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours. I was wide awake…..too hot, too often. My boy came along with me on this ride….I pulled him closer to me. I pushed him away. I had him pet me and rub me, and then said he could stop because his warm hands were adding unwanted heat. I switched sides of the bed. I traded pillows. I had him read out loud, which made me sleepy, but sleep still would not conquer me.

Finally, for some reason I am not entirely sure, I had him lay with his feet up by the headboard, and his face down by my ass. It simply came upon me that I wanted him there like that. I had him curled against me, his beautiful face pressed tightly against my ass and I lay on my side, facing away from him.

His nose buried in that space where my ass my pussy meet. That triangle of love. That magical, dark, musky, sexy space. That is where my boy slept.

But before he slept, he lapped. He was ordered to lick and lap all of those dark spaces. His entire face was smothered by my skin, by the weight of comforters, by the darkness of sheets. It felt good to me….it almost felt like he was in a bondage of a different kind. I knew I would keep him there until sleep found me, and it did. But that was after the sex, after the enormous orgasm I had while using my sex slave, my boy. Once I felt the last of the spasms of those wonderful waves that washed over me, I ordered him back down to that space. Now damper, now mustier, he again pressed his nose and mouth into my folds, breathing deeply as instructed.

We slept. We both slept. Quickly, deeply, erotically, fully.