Writing frustrations

I was working on a great post about my wrist collar, my shackle, but an analogy of mine fell completely apart when I started talking about shoe care. And that took down my big analogy. Damn it. So, instead of being able to save it, I just deleted it all because I realized the point I was making wasn’t clear. It was not such a great post after all.

It’s frustrating when this happens, but being able to say goodbye to a post is certainly a step forward in writing. And a step forward in learning that sometimes what I write isn’t right. So back to the drawing board.

Apart

I am away for almost two weeks. The last time I was apart from Chloe, it was only one week and was a conference in Vegas. So far I’ve been gone one out of the two weeks.

This time I am not alone but have my kids with me. Kids that I don’t see as often as I used to and I try to make up for that with giving them good experiences, which make me focus on them while I’m with them and not other things. It’s not possible to forget about Chloe, but it is possible to be focusing on other things that make me not want or need sex so much. At the beginning of this trip, I was taking advantage of time alone and stroking the long denied cock, because I could and because I wanted to feel that pleasure. That’s gradually trailed off to this morning where I didn’t even bother to touch it at all, outside of the normal guy scratching his nuts when he wakes up.

So, while I’ve been away, my sex drive has dropped, which is okay, because I don’t have a Chloe nearby – to tease me, to deny me or for me to please. So, given that any jacking off will be incomplete, there’s little point in doing so for myself. It’s so much better when I’m able to bring her pleasure and she gets to decide whether I’m going to get any direct pleasure myself.

But I was just commenting to Madame this morning via text that it’s good to miss each other. If we were not apart, we wouldn’t know what we are missing. And that’s a good thing. If I were indifferent about my being apart from her, that would tell a much different tale. A sad tale, to be honest. It would be like my oldest son who has a “girlfriend” with whom he does very little, but doesn’t, as far as I have heard, reach out to her when they’re apart. But that’s young love, they have a different idea of things and that’s okay. They need to learn more aspects of what love is and is not.

But with Madame and I, well, she wrote last night how incredibly horny she was for me. And I too have written similar things back over the past week. We both go to bed at night clutching something that is not our partner. Clutching a pillow does not make a suitable substitute. There is no substitute at all for her being able to clutch her cock and balls while I pet her to sleep. We fit so well together at night that it’s something neither of us can replicate on our own or with any other partner. Even when she has visited other men, she doesn’t sleep in bed with them like she does with me. They don’t spoon like she and I do. And they don’t pet her back and backside like I do.

We simply cannot find substitute nor do we want to find substitute for each other. And the fact that we miss each other is an excellent thing to show us that we are, in fact, the right people for each other. Missing each other hurts, but without it, we wouldn’t have beautiful reunions and beautiful moments of pressing our bodies together again when we reunite.

Missing each other hurts, but the alternative – not caring that we are apart – would be a far worse fate for not just the two of us, but our relationship. So, I miss you Madame, very much. I know we have another week before I return, but “Always toward absent lovers, love’s tide stronger flows.”

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.

Story from the archives

This is a true story, as best I can remember it, from a few years ago.

I was living alone with 3/7 child custody so 4/7 of the week I was either staying with Madame or by myself at my place. Madame had an event planned where she was traveling past my house (well, my house was was within 2 miles of the highway, she was heading up the highway) and I was hoping she might stop by.

It was also at this time that I was practicing some self bondage. Since I had the house to myself and planned to be alone, with a chance of a visit from her, I decided to tie my self up. I assembled the spanking bench we had (a basic two level bench) and started binding myself up for the night. I had ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, a gag, a blindfold a stocking to hold some of the above onto my head and I’m pretty sure I was wearing a pair of stockings on myself as well. My balls were also bound up to some other part of my body. Before I had put myself into such a position, I set a few things on the table, just in case she showed up for a visit. There was also a note on the table, indicating that she should “use” the person all tied up and feel free to “mark it” before she left. I had put down a nice piece of plastic under the bench in the idea that she might, on her way out, piss on me.

I had earbuds in and was listening to a long set of some kind of new age/electronica/trance type music when I thought I could sense someone coming into my apartment. It was her, she had decided to visit. I couldn’t hear what she was saying very well, but she was impressed with finding a completely bound man at her mercy lying on a bench in his bedroom. I was in no position to resist her.

Her hands roamed about my body. She caressed and pinched and slapped. She found the toys I had left on the table. Lube was splashed onto my ass. She fingered my ass roughly and stroked my cock as well. Her hands pulled at my balls. She spit on my ass to keep the lube wet. After her fingers explored and opened me, I soon felt a dildo banging at the back door, but it didn’t take her long to shove it into me. This was, by far, the most brutal fucking she had ever given me. Being gagged, I could not protest to her as she fucked me. I was bound tightly to the bench and she fucked me hard with the cock. My own cock swelled as she fucked me. Her hand pulled at the hair on my head, dislodging the earbuds from my ears, which she noticed, finally realizing that most of the things she had been saying were falling on deaf ears. She pulled my head back with one hand and fucked my ass with the other, now talking about how beautiful it was to rape me. I whimpered as she fucked me. I could hear her smile. She was getting off on this and I was happy for it. She tired of fucking my ass and pulled the cock out, it landed on the bench with a thump, bouncing against my leg as the wet lubricated cock left its wet mark on my calf.

She let my hands free and told me to undo the rest, as I had some complicated measure of my collar being attached to my balls, which she couldn’t understand. She didn’t piss on me, but she did get me closer to naked and took me to bed where she held me and cuddled with me until we fell asleep. I thought she was going to drive off to home, but she decided she couldn’t leave me like that and wanted to stay with me. I was happy about that, but in a way disappointed that I wouldn’t be used and then left to myself. But there’s a future ahead of us and more fantasies to turn to realities and plenty more play to have in our own future.

I know it’s fantasy…

I know that the “never cumming again” thing is fantasy, but I’m okay sharing that fantasy with Madame. This morning I mentioned that I was going to lock up while she’s away for a couple days because I’m not entirely sure I can trust myself to be in bed alone without her there. I told her I was too horny to trust myself. I also told her I missed cumming. She admitted that she also missed my cumming.

He's teased

He’s teased

So, sometime in the future, I’ll be cumming, but for now, I’m okay with playing the fantasy of “never again”. It’s still a fun story to tell and it gets me so highly aroused. Like this morning. When she teased my cock again. And again. And made me drip with my arousal.

And that’s more than okay. So, I’ll be locked until at least Saturday while she is away. Then on Saturday, I may unlock, as I have a two week time period where I will be in various living conditions and awkwardness may ensue. ;)

Never…

Last night, we made time to play together in bed. We had been out and about doing our own thing yesterday, came together in the middle of the day and then made our own little pub crawl, visiting three breweries/restaurants yesterday afternoon and evening. Settling into our nest of a bedroom, we watched a little TV and then started playing. It was one of those nights where we struggled for control. She incited me and I pinned her arms. I fucked her while I did this. She has trouble talking when I do it, which is more than half the fun. Soon she wrested control back and she was using me. My cock was too ready to explode, so I finished her with one of our most favorite dildos, fucking her very hard with it until she came.

You know when you have a bucket that is just full to the top? And you try and move that bucket? It’s going to spill, you’re aware of it, you know it, but just because it’s a bucket, it’s going to spill. The cock spilled too, as the balls are so very full, overfull. It was a beautiful lubricant for me to finish her with the dildo, but she insisted that she be cleaned up again after. She stroked me while I did so. Three more times I needed her to stop while she did so to prevent the bucket from being knocked clean over.

Then while lying beside her, she held tightly to my cock and balls while she talked to me. “That was nice, but what am I going to do with that cock of mine? It can’t fuck me the way I want.” She stroked her cock slowly. “It just seems you can’t use  your cock on me the way I need it.” She squeezed my balls. “I like your begging. I really do. I love watching your face as you struggle.” She stroked my cock again.

“But struggle all you want. And beg all you want. You’re not going to cum.” She released my cock and rolled over on her side, her back toward me. “Pet me to sleep, slave.”

“Yes, Ma’am” I whimpered.

She continued talking. “I really do love using you, it’s fun. But I can get myself off without you. And you’ve already showed that your cock isn’t useful enough to me. But you never would have handled my pussy squeezing that cock. You would have spilled.” I pet her back and shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry about spilling that cum, love. I’m just not going to let you. There’s just no reason for you to cum, ever again.”

I don't do caption photos, but this one seems to accurate. I just have to.

I don’t do caption photos, but this one seems to accurate. I just have to.

Ever again. EVER. AGAIN. It echoed in my head, my eyes welled up. I stroked her lower back and butt. I sobbed into the pillow. She spoke slowly and quietly. Each sentence with a pause at the end of it. A pause so that I could hear the echo of the hammer that just pounded that nail.

“No pup, there’s just no reason for it.

I don’t need it,

so it won’t be happening again.”

I sobbed into my pillow again.

“You know pup, it seems a shame that we never officially said good bye to your cumming.

We should have a ceremony, where we say good bye to your cumming forever.

We’ll have lots of friends and we’ll have a ceremony so all these friends of ours can say good bye to your cumming too.

That might be helpful to you, a ceremony to say good bye.”

She never indicated that I’d have a last cum during that ceremony, but I implied it, perhaps inaccurately. I humped my body against hers. She continued her slow methodical phrase by phrase talking.

“Go ahead, hump into me if you want,

push that hard cock into me,

but it’s not going to cum.

It doesn’t ever need to cum again.

Don’t worry, there will be cum for you.

It just won’t be yours.

It’ll be on your face,

you can lap it up off my tits,

and maybe if you’re very good,

out of my pussy.”

I rubbed her back and she fell asleep. I stopped humping against her and sobbed into my pillow, then fell asleep shortly after her.


She teased me again around 2:30 in the morning, using me for a little while, but then her talk of “ever again” came up, and I almost came, and she was done with me and put me back to bed.

This morning she told me “Last night was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed it.” I smiled. She saw my cock rise under the sheets. “You had fun too…” she looked down at me. I nodded at her. “I know, pup.” She grabbed my cock through the sheets. “I know.”

“I don’t last long when you talk about that, you know.”

She smiled. “I was only speaking the truth last night. Nothing but the truth.” She pumped my cock one or two times and stood up again from the bed. “Get up now and write about it, pup.”

And so I’ve written about it. And I’ve set this post to show up in a little while, after I’m at work and have stopped thinking about those words “ever again”. I’m still not sure whether it’s real or not. And I think that’s exactly what she expects.

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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