After dinner T

As I write this…

She is in the bedroom, having given T a spanking, his first, I think. She used a paddle, her hand, another paddle we have. She used a wartenberg wheel on his skin. And I’m not sure what else.

But I washed up the dishes after dinner, cleaned up in the kitchen, put the house back after a lovely dinner that T and I put together (Some pork tenderloin, rice and salad for those interested). T brought some of the ingredients, some wine, and his lovely self, to make our party this evening. He’ll be away the rest of the week it seems so tonight was the opportunity. It seems to have gone well. I’ll learn more later, I’m sure, but I’m not sure I’ll post more, as I know T reads the blog (but doesn’t comment!) regularly.

It certainly is another step into our future. And an interesting one. I’m optimistic. I smile.

Happy thanksgiving

Hope you all had a lovely day. Black Friday looms over us but I’ll be taking a break from in person shopping unless it’s for groceries today. 

That’s all but… Well…

Share some porn? Okay. ;) 

 

Clothed down

It’s been a great week and a half. I come home, I get naked, put on the collar and go about our evening together. And we’ve had few interruptions at home so I’ve not had to throw something on for anybody. At most, last night, we had a guest who was a friend of kink so I wore my apron through dinner – and nothing else!

Listen here, boy!

Just because we’re wearing clothes, doesn’t mean there’s no D/s dynamic!

It’s left me open to Madame’s touches and gaze, which has been lovely. And it means I can’t hide my obvious arousal for her at any time. Arousal which happens often. And while it’s not always PTFD, she doesn’t allow me free reign over my desires for fucking. After all, what kind of Mistress would she be if she allowed that!

But now the holidays are upon us. My lovely children will be back (and I love them and look forward to it!) and we’ll be headed to family gatherings this weekend, like so many others. So, hair will be brushed and primped, clothes will be lint rolled and… worst of all… clothes will be worn! Damn it all.

It’s fun to think about a world where naked isn’t unusual, but we know that it is. After all, the Puritans, who had a good strong measure in creating this holiday of ours (yes, I know…) were, well, Puritans! And being in New England, those Puritan busy body traditions trickle down to present day. We can barely even get a good public dungeon up here!

So, I shall shower and shave and put on nice clothes and be my typical good servant to my Mistress while we attend family gatherings and I will be a good attentive dad to my children and we’ll get through this until Monday. When I can get naked again.

Unsure of the posting schedule, but Happy Thanksgiving to all!


I like punny titles.

PTFD

Before I go anywhere, this post uses a common acronym of PTSD and modifies it to a less serious situation. No offense is intended to anyone who experiences PTSD for any reason. One may also think I am making like of sexual abuse, but I assure you I am not, I’m making light of the horniness of myself and the soreness of my partner. The post follows after the jump in case people do not want to continue reading.

Continue reading

The meet

So, this weekend we took a lovely little trip to a nearby restaurant to meet “T”. He was engaging, funny and interesting. We quizzed each other on our questions that Madame had us prepare, which was excellent of her to do. It was like our own little game of icebreaker.

Back in the corner we were able to chat about that which we wanted to chat about without fear of interruption. I watched two sittings come and go at the table next to us, both of which were oblivious to our conversations.

I understand that he has some schedule conflicts for the week, so it’s not likely we’ll see him again this week, what with Thanksgiving and my parental duties this weekend. But we look forward to seeing him again in the future.

We did head back to his place for an after dinner drink as well, so we got to get some insight into his world, which was very nice of him to do. Perhaps he hoped for more, after all, inviting the date back to the pad after dinner is tried and true, is it not? But we were fine with visiting the lovely home and peering around the corner from the right window to catch the water view. Hey, I’m not bemoaning that, after all, Madame and I had a water view that was only from a certain position in the bed… So I get that!

We seem to have much in common and some very good compatibility. I hesitate to say more as I know that he reads us religiously and is probably wondering just what we’re going to say. And wondering about what EACH of us are going to say. And I’m going to be a little bit of a tease and not reveal that much. But I do think we have more meetings within us and I look forward to that, very much so.

t time and cowering

Heart shaped owie

Heart shaped owie

Last night’s dinner was a happy success. Date number 1 is now going to be referred to as “t”. I might change this later on, but for now, “t” will suffice.

“t” was on time and dressed in shirt and tie, just as instructed. Both boy toys were given the same instructions, and both looked incredibly dashing.  He met us at the door, and I could tell he had some nervous but excited energy about him. I smiled at this. I had a good feeling that he and my boy were going to hit it off, and they appeared to do just that.

We got a corner table in the back. Not one I would normally seek or even approve of (no one puts baby in the corner, remember??) but it seemed appropriate.

I had instructed each boy toy to bring with them three to five questions that they would present to the other. They each wrote down five things they wanted to know about the other. The list also included one thing they wanted to share with the other regarding something they were concerned about. An example could be, “I am worried about pain, and how much I can tolerate”. That sort of thing.

We each ordered a big, lovely cocktail and that helped set the stage. All three of us are foodies and specialty cocktail people, so it was a good platform form which to start chatting. The tally of similar interests what significant, and talking was easy. We filled the minutes as the minutes turned to hours. Every gap was filled.

Our talk was largely vanilla. I did not want to scare him off. I know he was deeply nervous but as the night progressed, he admitted that his anxiety was waning. He was enjoying himself, as we all seemed to be.

I am not going to say much more, except that I did have to keep sexy and evil thoughts at bay during certain points of the evening. t would be talking, maybe something about work, and in the privacy of my mind, I really wanted to see him in my kitchen, naked, with a gag in his mouth, doing some cooking or cleaning. Nothing major, nothing to scare him off, but certain enough to make sure he knows who runs the show.

It was a great evening. I am pleased.

I don’t know if john is all that pleased, though. Not with dinner, but with what followed dinner. I am not sure what got into me, but when we got home, he sort of pushed upon me the seventh fucking of the day, and I got a bit rough with him in return. I needed to hear his whimpering and begging to make sure he knew who really was in charge. It’s me, in case there is any doubt. I was rough on him. I beat  him for a while, simply because I wanted to. I made sure he spent some moments cowering because I wanted him to cower for a bit. Not too many moments, but some.

The photo that accompanies this post is a mark I left on his body. My mouth put it there. I like how it looked.

Even in our consensual pain, there is love.

 

 

Months

I try to not get hung up on the “numbers” relating to our BDSM world. Days in chastity, days since orgasm, number of orgasms, ratio of Her orgasms to mine… those kind of things. But I’m inherently scientific and technical, so numbers are a thing for me. Hey, you know, an MRTG graph page showing stats over an entire year is damn sexy, in my book.

So last night, having come off a little bit of a dominant streak in our world, having given us both food for thought, some good conversation and growth among us both, we looked forward to a weekend together without kids or big social plans and she was tired. I told her “I”m going to fuck you to sleep.”

His and hers loving each other

His and hers loving each other

I told her how I was going to fuck her, slowly, calmly, consistently and let her fall asleep while I did so. Well, our earlier conversations led to her arousal being deeper than her fatigue, so she ended up bringing herself off to one of those slow boil orgasms, grabbing and pulling and squeezing at my cock. Earlier in our coupling I had reached a very happy place where I could fuck her until I didn’t want to without risk of orgasm. And I was doing just that. But then, as her own orgasm started ebbing, she tipped her hips in this weird way, stroking the head of my cock in “just that perfect way” and my earlier wall of “fucking without worry” fell over. Just that one tip of her hips and the different stimulation was enough to push me right over the edge. I grabbed her breast with my right hand and I fucked. I fucked her hard, I grunted and groaned and shouted out in my orgasm. And I unloaded 58 days worth of not having done so was finally released, right on top of her own orgasm. And I didn’t care. And I didn’t regret. And she didn’t care. And she doesn’t regret.

She worries that after I cum that my attention to her will slack. That I won’t be hot for her, I won’t be so easily aroused. And today has proved that to be completely wrong. I normally don’t go into such detail, but I feel it’s necessary for this. We’ve fucked at least twice, if not three times, this morning. And I don’t know if she’s going to be able to survive the next few hours before we get dressed for dinner with Candidate 1. I’ve a good feeling that she’ll be feeling me shoving into her and making her speechless again before we leave for that dinner. And I think we’re both very okay with that. Just because I came Ma’am doesn’t mean I don’t want you – deeply and very intensely. And I’ll continue to try and take it when I can. I’m having a feeling that you won’t have much problem with that.

Threesome (ISO)

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Tonight, date one and boy john meet.

We are doing dinner.

The three of us.

An early dinner so we can get a quiet table in the corner and talk. So we can get to know one another.

I am imaging that there will be some nervousness. Trepidation. I am, after all, looking to have both of these lovely men serve me. And most likely serve one another at my direction and whim.

But that is for later. We will move carefully to those darker, sexier places later. Tonight is about dinner. The “getting to know you” phase of it all.

I hope it goes well. I hope my gut feeling is correct. I have a good, gut feeling about this. I really hope I am not wrong.

I don’t LIKE being wrong.

It makes my crown feel crooked.

When I’m on fire…..

I want to make a few comments on john’s post from yesterday, “Switching“.

For me, I thought it was hot as hell. I know that’s a very personal observation, and I am being purely subjective, vs objective.

It’s personal because when I took my first, terrifying, tentative steps into the world of BDSM, John was there. He was, and has been, my primary partner and my most trusted everything. I learned my entire platform of learning from him.

I started as a submissive, or, at least, I thought I was submissive. All of my fantasies….the ones that turned me on, the ones I’d reach under the covers and touch myself to when when I was a teenager…. all had me as the heroine in distress, where I was rescued, held captive, and loving tortured for the rest of my happy days. For years and years (like, 25!), those were my fantasies.

Then, I met John, and he was the exact embodiment of those fantasies, and I swooned.

I still swoon over this guy, and it’s been a decade.

We learned very quickly that there is nothing submissive about my personality. I simply can’t hack being submissive and being told what to do for more than about 9 minutes. But bottoming? I didn’t know there was a difference, but once I learned the difference between bottoming and submitting, I clearly knew that I was a dominant who liked to bottom on occasion.

Really….the absolute best of both worlds, if you ask me.

As I learned and saw more within the BDSM world, my fantasies became deeper and darker.  They became darker because I included things in them I didn’t even knew existed. Who knew you could actually apply  lots of fire to a human body and have it be sexy and amazing??  I didn’t know that at age 20 or even 25. I didn’t know until I did fire play….one of the nicest things ever! I’ve tried so many things, things I never, ever thought I would try.

I am also very content knowing that some things are much better left in fantasy than in reality but for the most part, so much of it is simply amazing!

So it goes.

But John was always the exact cornerstone of my fantasy base. When I met him, I lost 40 pounds because I forgot to eat. I am not kidding, at all. That is how much I was captivated.

So, about John’s post from yesterday, his dominant side: I know it is there. I know how turned on I get when I get to see it. It’s the best aphrodisiac in the world for me.

But reading it also make me realize something that was hard for me to admit. Sad, even.

What hit me when I read his post ‘Switching’ was that I am simply not brave enough to handle his deepest, sadistic side.

I really don’t think I will get to be that girl, because I just don’t think I can hack it. I don’t think I could handle what I know he could mete.

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These are particularly deep, kinky places that we are talking about. They are not for everyone. I don’t know that they are for me, even.

I have  been in professional dungeons more times than I can remember, and I have seen everything I can think of seeing, including what I would call “the most extreme” while still remaining SSC (safe, sane, consensual). I really don’t know what John means when he talks about the deepest aspects of his sadism. I haven’t asked, because I don’t actually want to know. Because what if we did decide I could handle it, or try handling it? Then I’d know what to expect, and I don’t want to know those things, I don’t want to remember them. If I am able to have that experience with him, then I want it to be brand new to me.

Knowing that John loves me as he does, it makes my head tingle knowing that we can do these things to one another. How deeply, deeply sexy to create loving torture on the one we care about so much??  John could, if we played out that scene, do terrible things to me, but defining ‘terrible’ is in the eye of the beholder.

And if that were happen, I would want to be sexy about it. I would want to be tied and gagged and immobilized. I would want to be retrained from screaming and running away. Because, I have struggled to handle when he has been particularly hard on me, and with snot running down my face, I have tried to get up and run. Not very sexy at all. I dislike the mental image of that. In my mind, I am strong and stoic and sexy as I endure. In reality, I am a blubbering, sloppy, begging mess. Ugh. Very Unsexy to me.

But I also know that this  messy image is a turn on for others. Again, all in the eye of the beholder.

I just happen to be my own beholder, that’s all.

I don’t have to decide now. But we have not really talked about this level, this side, of his kink in years. Until, that is, he posted about it yesterday. And I smile, knowing we still have so many stones unturned, so many places we can still visit if we so choose.

When I get an itch to bottom, I will crave  him pull my hair, rough me up, spank my ass, boss me around, and fuck me hard and it is enough.  He can intimidate and scare me with his strictness, which I love (ok, it makes me verrry wet). He is a very strong guy, and he can literally do what he wants with me, if he is allowed to. It completely satisfies. And really, I can handle an evening of it, and the itch is scratched, and I am done. It is so incredibly interesting to me, because when nights like this happen, I can literally feel my dominant side (we call her Madame) standing off to the side, tapping her foot, getting impatient to return. I love that she is standing there, as though the bottom of me were getting its tires changes, and Madame is eager to hit the road.

I get that bottom fix, those tires changed, and I am done. Those bags are packed, and I am out the door, as quickly as I came.

Bottoming to me is like vacationing…..nice place to visit a couple of times a year, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

I love living in the land I do: where this female rules the roost, where I am queen of the hill, and where that complex, loving, submissive, loyal, sexy boy john awaits me. That is where I live.

It’s been nice posting about this, thinking about it, and getting roughed up a little bit by John as of late. Such a lovely vacation. Back to reality.

Reality is, it’s 9am, and my boy john is still sleeping, and I am itching to wake him.

<Insert evil smile here>

The Switch

Work has been absolute madness for some few weeks and then to add in an unexpected medical issue* which has, in some ways, deflated my libido, and there’s been little time for much blogging either. Usually, once I hit the office and catch up on the email, I can sneak in, write up a quick post and get it out to publish before all the rest of the office gets caught up on their own email and starts asking me for things. It’s great to feel wanted, but it seems there’s never enough time to get my own things done. I’ve had one work project languishing since May!

But you’re not here to hear about my woes at work and cow-orkers, after all, bitching about cow-orkers is what LiveJournal is for! This is a sexy blog! And you want sex! And power exchange too. I get that. And that’s what I’m here for.

He fucks

He fucks too!

Madame occasionally needs her fix, as you’ve read about. And I am happy to give it to her. And the other night I did. She did go for the ice cream and cola dinner plan, which was a horrible choice. And she deserved the spanking she got. She also deserved the hard pounding she got as well – although the pounding part didn’t happen until next morning – as we were both beyond tired by the time she came home (and AFTER curfew… even though Chloe does not really have a curfew). I do enjoy my time when we turn the tables and I take over. Some people have wondered and inquired about it. Let me explain.

When I’m in a toppy space, I have a very different energy about me. Sexually, if I’m turned on while toppy, I get into a nice place where I stay in the arousal stage for as long as I want. I may move from arousal to plateau and back again, but I don’t go up to the orgasm stage. And the fact that I don’t go up into orgasm stage is what can send Chloe over the edge. When I’m toppy, I can, and will, fuck with her for hours if I want to. I may take breaks, I may relax, I may soften and do other things, but I’ll soon decide I want to fuck some more and I’ll just go back to pounding her. Sometimes, when she’s feeling particularly cheeky and I’m fucking her that way, she’ll start trying to use those words that she uses when SHE is on top – verbal cues when I’m on the bottom will quickly push me into the orgasm stage. So, sometimes I’ll stuff panties in her mouth or choke her or cover her with a pillow, just so she can’t talk to me. Sometimes I know she talks like that to play with me and sometimes I know she’s doing it because she is tired of being fucked. She really wants me to stop. And so I keep fucking her, of course.

But some would ask “Well, what do you get from being a dominant person to a submissive?” Good question. I definitely have a part of me that does enjoy topping. I also have a sadistic side of me that enjoys the idea of torture. So much so that I rarely go there, and almost never with Chloe. I have a block in my mind that really prevents me from torturing Chloe – I think because I love her too much. But there is a part of me that does think about torturing her… or another… and I can do it in a BDSM context, a consensual thing, but it’s a hard one to do in most cases. There are neighbors and others in a house and other concerns that really prevent a proper torture scene. So it’s hard to pull that off. And really, in any “public” dungeon, lots of torture can be seen as too extreme for the rest of the dungeon occupants. It’s hard to find the right place to do such things.

What else do I get from being on the top side? I do enjoy it personally and sexually. If I want to, I can push myself over the edge, most times, and push myself into orgasm stage. It usually takes some good concentration on feeling very good while fucking, but I can make it happen. I can think of a couple times I’ve been really able to make that happen. And for some on the bottom, me achieving orgasm is part of THEIR trip, so it’s unfair to deny them that, if that’s what they’re looking for.

And yes, there’s a part of my service oriented self that likes hurting people because they want to be hurt, in the sexiest of ways, of course.  I have the capacity to do that. I can be very happily sadistic if I know the partner I am playing with wants it. I consider it a service, and it turns me on in a different way. And there’s another part that also likes fucking people who like to be fucked hard and relentlessly.

How does Chloe feel? Well, she’s mentioned it a bit, but not really gone into depth, but she does enjoy watching me. Sometimes it’s at a distance, sometimes I know she’s watching, sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I know she’s watching and she doesn’t know I know. ;) And I think of her getting wet and thinking all the dirty thoughts she has about it. Because I know that my topping someone else is a big turn on for her.

When I play as a top in public, I know that it’s not supposed to be something that people admit to liking, but I do enjoy knowing that people are watching. I have a performer’s mindset sometimes, and I do know that I should, at least, expect to be watched while we’re in parties or events. And I will do things that I know look good, but only if I know they’re still safe. I enjoy being watched and I enjoy that my partner in the moment is being watched. I get off on knowing that it’s her- tied, legs spread, taking a beating from my flogger or cane that people are seeing. They see the cane being applied and watch her ass or thighs react. And they get to see her pussy dampen,  swell and open like a flower as the pain arouses her. I like presenting her to the others that way, exposing her to the gazing eyes of others. It is, indeed, a beautiful thing to behold, watching a woman get turned on by getting beaten. And the sounds of her cries… oh wow. There is a lot of emotion in that for me too.  All of this adds up.  But yes, I admit, I can perform to the crowd if that is the opportunity.

“Now wait a moment!” some might say. “You’re not paying 100% attention to your partner! That’s irresponsible!” Okay, you can say that if you’d like. I negotiate with my partners. They know me from others or hopefully from seeing me play. We talk about things I might do, things they do NOT want me to do and things I CAN NOT do. And from that point, they also have a safe word. Partners that choose to play with me can ask anyone I’ve played with how I play. And with rare exception (I can think of one situation… ) I think everyone has had a wonderfully splendid time playing. But I play at events often in both submissive and dominant capacity. If someone’s interested in playing and hasn’t had a chance to watch me, I’ll be happy to let them watch a scene before they make their decision. While we talk about SSC and RACK all the time, I like to consider RASH, Risk Aware, Shit happens, as a good manner of negotiating play. I find fellow RASH players to be good partners. I do not expect that I can fully anticipate any and all contingencies that will happen within a scene. I can consider risks and try to mitigate them to the best of my ability and will do anything I can to help someone who falls into distress within a scene (even another person’s scene if I see it go bad!), but nobody… NOBODY can anticipate it all. And yes, back to the point of this paragraph, I do let people watch. And I know people watch. And I do pay some attention to the people watching. And if they’re wanting the show, they get the show. Now, I won’t ignore my partner. They’re still going to get the primary attention. The touches. They’ll get whispers. They’ll get the kisses of my lips as well as the kiss of the cane, but I’m going to smile at the person over there when I hear them go “Oh SHIT!” with a muffled shout because of a particularly vicious strike of the rattan. Yes, I do that. And I know that the partner I’ve just struck also hear the “Oh Shit” and is reacting in her own way as well. We who play in public do so for a reason. And it’s because we like being displayed and we like others to watch us. And other people watching is part of the scene. And yep, I admit to playing to that.

But, then, after I say all of that about playing to the crowd, I’ll also say that I’ll be the first one to brush off a voyeur if you come up to me after the beating part of the scene has ended and you want to talk about my canes or my technique. I’ve got aftercare to administer – which isn’t “after the scene” to me, it’s still part of it. And most often, that’s something that I want to do with my partner and give them the focus and attention they need. And sometimes that’s 100% attention. And sometimes it’s coffee and a blowjob. And sometimes it’s a quick hug and they’re off to go shine shoes. But it’s still a part of the scene and something that needs to be given 100% attention. Of course, if she’s having conversation with others, that’s fine and I’ll do the same.

So, does that explain some of what I am and who I am when I’m on the top side of things? Does that help explain what I get from me being in that place? I hope so. More pointed questions? Feel free to comment. I’ll respond. As will Chloe.


* It’s small, but particularly annoying and I am recovering as expected, slowly. The recovery has its own annoyances which are boring to all but the most weirdly curious.