Labor Day

She let me sleep in, but I woke up, made the bed, removed my collar and joined the rest of the house, made my own coffee, as there was no more prepped and joined the day.

She worked on dealing with some freecycle things.

I started the laundry.

She worked on some logistics for her father and his new place.

I mopped the kitchen floor.

She may have even ducked into the bedroom to jill off while I was working on cleaning the grill.

I took care of the dishes in the dishwasher, sink and drainboard.

I fixed her (and I) brunch.

She worked on her fantasy football team.

I shaved my cock and balls at her command, then showered, then put the shower curtain into the last load of laundry.

I remain at home, no car, she is out helping her father with some things. I am continuing to do laundry, cleaning up our room and then working on some organizing in the mudroom while she’s gone. As we have roommates around, I’m not naked, but I am wearing nothing but my slave pants.

She will come home, I will serve her a cocktail, I will remain in my slave pants and I will serve all the other folks who are coming over some drinks as well, while she socializes and works with her brother on fine tuning her fantasy football team

She gave me some cane strokes and a spanking.

She gave me some cane strokes and a spanking. Fresh spanking, fresh flowers, fresh veggies. All good!

Some might say I’m whipped – well, I wasn’t, but I was caned and spanked. And if some want to call me pussy whipped, I’m perfectly okay with that. I don’t mind. I am happy to serve my lovely Mistress and she keeps me happy by grabbing my cock once in a while and whispering into my ear as she jacks me off, bringing me to where I beg her to STOP and then let’s go, walks away with a smile and tells me the next task on my to-do list, all while the pre-cum drips from the head of my cock.

Collars

woman-dog-walking

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

 

Save

Ruff Days!!

IMG_1044

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.

IMG_1048

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.

 

IMG_1054

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Whoops I did it again

Last night, Madame came home late, I was already in bed, but I soon sprang out of bed and helped her undress, kissed her feet as I removed her pants and panties, and followed her to the bedside where she snuggled into the pillows I had already laid out for her. She does love that body pillow, particularly when I’m not in bed with her. Last night, she curled up to that, exposing her back to me while she lay on her right side. At the bed side, I offered up worship of her body with my tongue, then added both my hands to her body and caressed her all over while I cleaned her, then continued to caress her from her neck to shoulder, back, bottom, thighs and calves. She directed me toward her feet, which I also rubbed and kissed lightly for her. A few licks might have escaped as well, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Is all this attention to make up for your statement earlier?”

“Partly Ma’am, but not completely.” I had made comments relating to the status of our relationship with far too much humor and not enough forethought, which I realize were inappropriate. Sometimes my “comfortable humor” gets too uncomfortable for other folks – this was one of those times.

I continued rubbing her and while we talked, she tossed the end of the leash to me, which I clipped onto her collar, already around my neck. I rubbed, we chatted. I realized my error and she wasn’t very upset, but it’s something I’ll need to watch in the future. Unfortunately, one can’t say “Oh, I’m her slave… ” when someone mistakenly addresses you as “husband”, so you have to say something else.

Soon she pulled on the leash and directed me to join her in bed, as previous I was simply kneeling in the small space between the wall and the bed. It’s one of those spaces so small that to turn around while kneeling takes some significant effort, as you cannot simply turn, but you must get up, turn, then back down again.

I joined her in bed, continued rubbing her body and we talked. I mentioned a story I had read earlier that evening on the HerPiggy tumblr which really roused the prurient interest in me and I gave her an ever brief synopsis of the story. It really was arousing and I admitted to her of my jerking off to the story while I read it. I rubbed her as I talked, she lay there asking some small questions to clarify the story line for herself, and did not touch me at all.

We settled in a little more. She moved from up on her left side to a more prone position on the bed, which frees up her left hand. She grasped at my balls and I moved to get into just that right spot where we fit perfectly together. There were some other points of conversation, not related to the story, but soon we were both close to sleep and yet I was still highly aroused. I mentioned this to her. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, pup?”

“I think I could have an orgasm right now. May I?”

“Yes, pup” she replied, with a smile in her voice and a squeeze of my balls. And that squeeze was all it took. A couple deep breaths and I was soon pushing myself into a very strong orgasm. I grabbed Mistresses pillow with my right hand, though most of it was under her and my own pillow in my left and my body shook from head to toe. I buried my face into my own pillow as the feelings grew more intense and I cried out. I willed myself to end the orgasm, as I knew I could have kept going for far longer. I felt her squeezing my balls as I came down, acknowledging my pleasure with her own hand.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, pup.”

“That was a strong one.”

“Indeed pup. Good job on not hurting me.”

“Yes Ma’am. I’ve tried to remain aware, even when I’m losing my mind.” (I’ve sometimes squeezed her a little too hard while in the throes of orgasm)

I pet her back, her bottom, her shoulders. She squeezed my balls one last time and I heard the tell tales breathing that told me she was asleep. I pet her longer, let her fall deeper into her slumber and then turned my head into my own pillow as I let myself wander into that same place.