Polite

IMG_6105She told me one evening “I think I’m sometimes too polite to you, pup”. I smiled. “It’s hard to let go of good habits like being polite. But I think, since you’re my slave, I should be a little meaner. A little more direct.”

“That’s your prerogative, of course” I replied.

“It is, isn’t it.”

And here I was the previous night thinking “I wonder if she might try being a little meaner in the future.” But I never told her that. Well, not until she reads this post, that is.

“Good.”

She asked me the first morning after I had been locked up. “Did you wake up last night?” It will take several days before I can be in chastity and used to the device being on. Usually I can sleep through the night after a week.

“Yes, twice.”

“Did you kneel?” I often kneel by the side of the bed until the erection within my cage subsides.

“Once.” I had knelt once and once went to the bathroom to pee, as that also will let the erection subside.

“Was it painful?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”  she smiled and ended the conversation.

Anger, frustration, depression

I get anger over work issues. It’s exceptionally frustrating at work sometimes. I work in the non-profit sector. I deal with other people in other companies and I deal with lots of people inside our company. And I have a boss. And he has a boss. I am responsible for scheduling in my department – scheduling that MUST occur. Nobody can be missing. And I get all the excuses, reasons, requests, desires, etc. And then there are reasons why people need me to change staffing. We have X project or Y event and I’m the one that needs to wrangle people. And people are a fucking pain in the ass, often. But I also handle some automation. And it usually works without a hitch. Until the people (you remember the people, right?) start fucking with it… I also have people in other groups poking at things which make my world harder. It’s quite the balance and usually I make it happen and all is well. It has not been all well for a while.

In my family world, things have been shook up. I’ve discovered a long lost relative which presents me with some big questions and possibly some even harder truths that might be at hand. I’m sorry to “vague blog”, but I don’t know if all the detail is necessary. But it makes me feel like some of my family may have been terribly abused and it puts me at odds. I’m angry about it and I’m also showing some depression from it. I’m not getting into a deeper clinical depression, but just a depression that let’s itself be known and puts me in a down mindset. Chloe knows. She knows the reason. And I think she knows that I just have to work through it.

And to be honest, I think that the current political climate in Washington and our new President has put a few shovel fulls of depression into my world. It’s hard for me to grasp some of the things that he and his appointees and the general public are pressing. Completely illogical reasoning on doing some of the things and people just going along with it. The demise of intellectual conversation and the deeper divisions being dug between the sides. The disappearance of science. The degradation of fact. The whitewashing of history. All of this adds to my frustration and feeling of helplessness.

With all this, it’s not an easy place to be for a submissive. I know that it’s affecting our life. I know it’s affecting our interactions. I am thrilled to have Chloe’s love, affection and support, now more than ever. I could retreat into a super full service mode, but then Chloe loses her companion in me. I could withdraw completely from her, but then Chloe loses her service and that adds to my depression. I think she has been dealing with it well. She is giving me space on social activities, letting me spend some time with myself and with an occasional game or just getting away. She’s also doing some little things to remind me of our dynamic. As I write this in the nearby coffee shop, I am wearing the panties she selected for me this morning and left on the bed. The taste of her nether regions was only recently washed away with some Chai and some food, as she woke me to her pussy hovering over my face this morning.

And all this also affects my other relationships. Someone hoping to talk to me about an upcoming event has not been contacted and I’m almost afraid to reach out to the long lost relative because of “what I know” and what they “do not know”. I’m being kind of “Benzite-ian” (Star Trek TNG) in my approach with some of this family stuff, not divulging some things without having all the detail and a possible solution – though I know there may not be a solution – just a lot of information to share. But I want all the information before I share. And it affects my volunteer efforts as well, causing me to procrastinate on them for fear of failure which will only bring about failure. Yeah, not helping myself out.


So, I’m at a loss. No, I’m really not. I’m not at a loss. I’m a little depressed, I’m a bit angry about some stuff and I’m frustrated as hell. I’m not worried about any sexual frustration – as that’s NOT a problem, in fact, sexual activity has also been not in the forefront of my mind either, though I try.

These are all first world problems (except Washington – that can easily affect 2nd and 3rd worlds). I really have nothing proper to complain about. So, I can try to be more positive, get off this train of anger and frustration and kick my own ass out of depression before it goes deeper. It’s not a terrible set of circumstances. I’m terribly fortunate overall and grateful for that.

Let’s see how the weekend goes. I’m optimistic and hopeful. Who knows, maybe Chloe will take me for a walk in the woods to acquire naked January. ;)

Do winners win?

As we waited for our movie last week, we hopped into the abandoned arcade area of the theater. Being a weeknight, there were no gaggles of kids running from claw to shooter to racer to basketball throw. Just two adults standing at the air hockey table.

Finally acquiring the right amount of tokens for the game, Madame and I set out to play. I handily won the first game, each of us our own worst enemy scoring on ourselves. The score was something like 7-5. And the second game, before anyone scored I offered a bet.

“Well, if I win, I get… ” She looked at me. “I get… ”

“I win no matter what, you know, boy”

“Yes, I know… but if I were to win this game… I’d like.” I paused as she scored on me. Down 1 – 0. “I’d like a ruined orgasm”

She never tacitly agreed to the bet and, well, there was nothing on the line for if I lost, but that was okay too. We came to the end of the game and the timer ended with the score 4 – 3 in my favor, but she put the puck in – still – the timer was done – the score didn’t register.


The next morning, we woke, she very happy with the previous night as I had shown her quite a good time. She was, I think, pleasantly surprised with how good the movie was and how much fun we both had. She had me fuck her, used me well, I was able to get into some good fucking without worrying about cumming, though she started whispering things to me which put me so close to the edge. I had to stop a few times. Eventually, she tired of this game and demanded “Off!”

I lay on the bed as we cuddled and she stroked my cock lazily.

“So, tell me about this thing we bet on last night?”

“Ruined orgasm?”

“Yes, that.”

“Well, it’s basically just when you run the boy up to the edge, let his cum dribble out over the edge and it’s kind of like an orgasm, but without all the pleasure for the man. The good part is that, supposedly, you can just do that and he’s ready to go again without worrying about him cumming so soon. It’s supposed to take the edge completely off.”

She soon had me at that edge and let go. I had told her “NO! STOP! STOP STOP STOP” but she kept going, releasing me before I started spilling. It was a full ejaculate measure, for sure, but there was none of the pleasure of a full on orgasm. Okay, that’s not true, there was lots of pleasure, but it was a different pleasure.

My honest critique is that it did not keep me on edge like I expected. My cock wilted after I spilled. That’s not supposed to happen with this. My desire waned a little as well. Now, I’m not saying that it wasn’t a ruined orgasm, it certainly was, but perhaps we need to do one of two things. One, she needs to stop sooner – really let it dribble. Two, she needs to not be so fucking sexy while she’s doing it. It really is a turn on. :)

 

Perhaps ruined orgasms won’t work for me/us. Perhaps when you’re kept in denial so long, even a ruined orgasm wilts the libido a little. I can’t be sure, but I’m more than willing to continue practicing. Any thoughts on how we might make it better?

Public

We went to a movie last night. It was a long forgotten reservation for tickets for a classic movie and we made it into dinner and a movie. She got a little bit of her RLS (Restless leg) thing going and removed her shoes during the movie. During the movie, I rubber her back multiple times, helped her body relax a little and generally followed her cues to help her with feeling better.

At the end, the credits ran, she picked up her shoes and we went with the crowd, swept up in the people walking, then pulled off into the lower seats of the theater where we were both able to not be in the way. There, in front of the rest of the crowd, I helped her put her shoes on. Kneeling in front of her, I helped, she scratched my ears, it was obvious that I was helping her with her shoes. I handed her her jacket and her bag afterward and we walked out.

It was a lovely thing to be able to do for her. I hope someone was able to watch and see and know that this lovely FLR moment was happening.

Flip or flop

There are times, like Tuesday night, where things switch around here in our cozy little bungalow. We went out, had a good time, she was feeling the need for a good strong fuck and I was feeling a need to give her one. And that’s how we ended up with me pounding her heavily while she used the hitachi to add another perspective to her pussy, causing her to have a very deep cum, a little different than most of her other cums. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

I let my side get a little more animal than I could easily recover from. I was growling at her, most literally. Unable to produce coherent words nor provide any cogent reason why she shouldn’t simply smack me into next week, we should a gentler approach to getting me back to her and simply held me close and soothed me with words. She told me to breathe, she had me calm and I really tried to, but the animal would not leave the room.

She ended up taking the bathrobe tie to my mouth, gagging me. then she took my belt, still lying on the floor from us getting undressed, wrapped it around my head a couple times and tied it off to blindfold me. With those senses down, she was able to get me into a much calmer space. She clipped the leash to my collar as well. We soon fell asleep – a good night of food, drink, fucking and switching behind us, where the blindfold eventually fell off and the gag, expertly tied, was pulled from my mouth.

But in the end of it, I knew that my animal was far out of his place, had encroached too far into our FLR and I felt some guilt about it. Gagged, collared, blindfolded, I found myself down at the end of the bed, as far as I could be, down beneath her. I remember lapping at her hands, kissing her ass, rubbing her and trying to sooth her from wanting to do me harm, as I knew that the animal may have pressed too far, or stayed too long. And my submissive side was very much wanting to repair any damage that might have been done.

In the light of day and in hindsight, there was no damage done. Not at all. But it did feel awkward to need to come back to my submissive self and find that things were okay.

I like us in our FLR dynamic. And I like when we switch. But this was an odd time where I felt like I lost control of the animal and she had to bring it back under control. And that might have been more than she wanted to deal with that night.

In the end, it was a good night and a good next morning. I found myself kissing her toes before she left, then proceeding to my own morning routines.

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.

The lockup

She and I discussed locking me up this week, as I’ve been away from her. But, on the day this gets published, I’ll be away camping with a whole host of people, mostly kids, in some cabins in the Maine woods. Under those conditions, we thought it would be a little too onerous to try and hide the black metal tube attached to my dick as a “just in case” situation. “Just in case” someone walks in on me, or sees me peeing, or falls on me, or or or…. so many things that could happen. It’s kind of like, when in warmer weather and I’m kilted, I don’t wear a kilt without some kind of back up plan underneath. Hey, the kilt thing is mine, I can do it how I please and I do. ;)

So, I’m unlocked. For a week. Away from her. And that’s a long time. Sure, I’ve stroked. Yes, I’ve edged. But I still love knowing that she has been there – or she has sanctioned – every orgasm I’ve had for well over a year. There are no lapses. She’s been in total control.

So, I’m on my own recognizance. And I hopefully will sleep well. God knows that if I were locked, sleeping would be an issue too.

I like the comfort of being locked, despite the discomfort of being locked. And I like feeling her steel hand around my cock and balls.

This is just a short post, something to let the readers know that I’m away from her but loose, so there’s temptation. But not giving into it.

Switchy

Recently, while we were together in bed, knowing we were about to be apart for a week, we fucked. She set out with an agenda that she shared.

She wanted me to be submissive, then climb up the dominant world, then drop back down again. This is unusual for us, as our switchiness tends to be slower. Well, fair enough – it’s my fault it usually takes a while. I’m the slow one. She’s fine with getting her fix of bottom world, then she’s done, ready to climb back to her throne and be the boss again. ME? I’m more a tapering off on the dominant side.

So, we made out heavy, we coupled, she took me in. I knew, since I hadn’t cum for over 3 weeks, that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her and her inevitable orgasm without falling over the edge myself. So I offered up the dildo which is our favorite. She acquiesced, I grabbed it, came back to her and sucked it to make it wet and slid it in her. I fucked her hard with it. She enjoyed it very much. I traded the dildo for my own cock. Then the dildo again. I started getting toppy with her. She took the dildo as I started pounding her with it. She came – hard. Loud. It was a beautiful sight.

Then I put my cock back in again as she was coming down. And swapped for the dildo. And swapped for my cock. “Which one do you like more?” I asked. Dildo. Cock. “I think you like mine more.” My cock reached just a little deeper than the dildo, but it matched me on width. We fucked hard.

She never likes being fucked hard after she cums, but that’s exactly what I was doing. Then I moved from the L-position to a missionary position, my cock inside her, fucking her to frustrate her “I came! I’m done!” mindset. And she started enjoying it more. She really got into it. And me, being more toppy, took the dildo and started fucking her face with it I taunted her, teased her, made her suck it. I pounded her. I gagged her with it. I was that toppy guy she was looking for as I filled two of her holes, taunted her verbally and gave us both pleasure.

Eventually, after multiple instances of me getting close to the edge and her enjoying deeply my toppy self, she was done and ready to turn it back over. I let one of my edges get closer and ask her if I could cum. That was what she wanted. That was the turnabout she needed.

Now she started taunting. Now her words were the ones that pushed me. And now the cock left her mouth and, soon, ended up in her hand. As we turned around, got ourselves into the other positions of our world, she took control. She found her hand on the dildo and then made it find its way to my mouth and she was able to be taunting me now, fucking my mouth while I fucked her pussy. I managed to get some time without my mouth gagged by cock – I sputtered “I’m close!”

“Don’t you dare!” she replied.

I looked down at her, she knew I was closer. I stopped fucking, she insisted I keep it up. I still moved slowly. The dildo found its way back to my mouth. “Don’t you dare without asking…. ” she told me. I was unable to ask.

I fucked her. She fucked my mouth. I asked, but the cock in my mouth only made it a mumble. She knew what I was asking. I drooled on her. She told me to cum. I grabbed her other hand and put it back onto the back of my head. She held my head in one hand, the dildo in the other, she gagged me deeply as I started cumming in her. Oxygen was growing short. I came deep in her. She was already very wet, I soaked her through. I grunted, I moaned, she gagged me, I came.

We both relaxed some, laughed at our own rapid switchiness and I made my way down to clean her up after I made HER mess even messier. It was a great switchiness between us, a great release for both of us, and I was back under her thumb before I even knew I was there again.

The view from here

I noted the other day her nightstand, as it might appear on about any day of our week.

Her nightstandWe see a bottle of water and tissues, of course. And there’s this massage ball/block/brick thing that doesn’t seem to do what we think it’s supposed to do. She prefers my hand and heel of my hand to this little stocking stuffer. And we also see her first collar for me – which she made, and is of a beautiful design. It’s actually the collar in my avatar at FetLife as well. And, finally, a padlock with her key stuck right in it. The padlock cannot be applied or removed without the key present. This can be a nuisance to self locking, but what I will often do in that case is lock up and then drive to her office to bring her the key. In this case, we’re in a lockup lull and the parts just wait here. Practically vanilla to anyone else, but knowing readers would be able to spot the difference. Just like knowing people seeing her key between her breasts might also know what the key could be for.