The world of the boy

She has been doing a great job with posting and I’ve very much enjoyed. My writing has been mostly put toward assignments of writing for a friend of ours who was due five writing assignments. A combination of key ingredients presented themselves that allowed me to take $GREATIDEAFORFICTION from scribbles and brief tentative outlines into actual writing, so I wrote chapter one of FLOP, aka FDOP, but it’s writing! And the receiver of said writing loved it and wants me to continue, so it’s likely I will.

In the meantime, I’m working out details for our pending adventures this weekend with many like-minded folks. Putting together lists and bringing up the “special luggage” from the basement up to the bedroom, putting the piles of miscellany downstairs. Making all the like items find like storage locations.

We’ll be attending with J & D, a couple we’ve known for a little while now (well, since before they were a couple and it was just J, but we’ve loved watching them become the couple they are!). I’ll be in service to both the ladies and there will be play activities for all. And a pool. In winter. After all this fother-mucking insanely cold weather we have had.

But things should be in place for Madame to find the things she needs for our weekend, prepared in advance and ready to go. I’ll just need to know which night she wants the suitcase put up on the bed for her to fish through. Then we can get to real packing for the weekend – which we will no doubt overpack for. This is our schtick.

I try to keep my head down, do my work, serve her as best I can and improve both of us. It’s a time of cuddling and finding warmth. It’s a time of getting all that shit done that you don’t want to do in summer. So do it now…

Some time I’ll share the FLOP story, don’t worry, but that time isn’t now. It needs edits (desperately!) and more content. It’s just a very boring and, I thought, slow, setup chapter. My character list is short (under 10!) so that’s good, but it can go deep if I let it. So I’ll watch out for over complication.

Thanks all for the reading. More salacious content to come, I promise!

Whipped

I literally….4 minutes ago….departed from our bedroom where I left a naked, thrashing, screaming slave naked on the bed.

Well, screaming as best one can do when you’re not allowed to make noise. His pillow, I am certain, holds the echos of a thousand guttural sobs that he was not allowed to emit. The mattress bares the imprints of his fists as he pounded its quilted folds, in his desperate attempts to transfer his writhing to some place that he could deem appropriate.

While I appreciate those transferred attempts of anguish so that they are not directed at his abuser, I am feeling disapproval that he did not seem to recognize that this was punishment. Indeed, it was meant to be exactly that. No warm up, no slow rising from slumber to Sunday. Nothing of the sort. I entered the room silently, put on an acoustic playlist to camouflage the noise, picked up the thickest cane I could find, pulled the covers to the floor, and started beating him. No warm up, no gentle touches bringing him softly out of sleep. This was punishment. Punishment for once again breaking the same exact rule he got in trouble for only yesterday.

It displeases me more than I can express to have to punish him like this. If there is going to be such a level of correction, I want free reign, no limits on sound, all the space we need to afford ourselves for such an experience, such an encounter. I want him to know that he takes away pleasure from me when I am forced to met out something like this for a reason such as this.

Interestingly, we are going away next weekend with another couple, Ms. J and her boy lucky. Ms. J had assigned my boy the task of writing her 5 stories in a six week period. He has shared what he has written with me, and I have read his tales. The recent one I read was about punishment. Harsh punishment, where he was the subject of that punishment. I know it appeals to him on some levels. I know that when fantasy has no limits, and when he is free to create, he really enjoys it. And in his story, he has created the lovely illusion of his captors enjoying the punishing too. And this is good. I get the appeal, I see the sexiness when good, caring people engage with one another on such levels. After all, each and every one of us is consenting to a structured power exchange. I get it. I get ‘us’.

But I also hope that my boy understands that I do not particularly enjoy mornings like such as this. I like how I am the early riser an he is the sleeping in kind. I much prefer to rouse him softly, slowly, sexily. I love watching him yawn, stretch, smile. I love the stiff cock he presents me with each morning. Watching him punch and scream is not what I enjoy.

I am not finished punishing him. Not in the least. His punishment will continue until I feel certain he understands that a rule is a rule, and it is not created to be broken.

Some of my Sunday morning joy was taken from me. I am being punished too, and I dislike.

What I do like is how he came out of the bedroom, full of remorse and softness. He knelt by my side, kissed the top of my foot, pawed at my thigh, looked up at me and apologized. I accepted. I am not displeased with him as much as I am with his behavior. I expect better, because HE Is better. He has proven this 10,000 times in 10+ years.

canes on bed

 

Bad dog

My boy forgot about the rule last night. Simply forgot. We sat down to an easy, simple meal and he dove right in, completely forgetting the “first bite, last sip” rule that had been made into law only 5 days ago.

Sigh. Five days.man on plate

He knew it, too. All of the sudden, he put his fork down and looked at me with what can only be describes as remorseful guilt. As we were not alone, I simply nodded in his direction, saying without words that I was acknowledging his admission. And that he’d pay for it later.

Later came. He knew. He simply walked into our bedroom as we prepared to retire for the night, took the cane that lives next to my dresser, and placed it on the bed.

He was told to present. And of course, he did. Naked body, across the bed. Waiting.

He was given 10 hard strokes that had him silently writhing across the bed. Not allowed to yowl when roommates are present. This, I like.

After that, he was told to count backward from 100. He did. I started canning him rapidly. Not as hard, but no pause in between strokes. No time to process the separating seconds. But certainly time for me to grab a second cane and start drumming.

Quite honestly, I have never seen anyone count backwards from 100 so quickly and so accurately. Lucky for him that he  made no mistakes, for surely, I would have made him start from the top.

Cause I’m the top. I can do such things.

 

 

 

Bound in snow

IMG_6512My boy’s day yesterday was filled with manual labor. Lots of shoveling, car juggling, scraping, defrosting, arranging, rearranging, prepping, managing and maintaining. He did it all. Yes, he had help as we all chipped in to assist. But I could see the extra effort he was putting in to cover my share of the work load. He never grumbles about it, he just ‘does’.

I had fantasies about a long and lazy day of being at home, and snow of naked time, of ass play, of breaking out and dusting off toy bags and getting creative with the contents. But none of that happened. Maine pretty much shut down and everyone was home. The day flew by. And….truth be told….my roommate and I decided to throw it in 4 wheel drive and do a mini bar crawl. Three beers in 3 hours was a good pace, and it was a good venture out. It’s another example of that ‘worlds colliding’ I have talked about. Such good intentions, not enough time. Or, time I end up managing differently. So be it.

We survived the “bomb cyclone” as they’ve been calling it. In Maine, we are prepared to handle things like this. We kind of get excited about it, to be honest. It’s better having my boy by my side.  Or, really, slightly behind me. Don’t well behaved dogs make everything better??

Cheers, baby. You did good!

Planet Hopping

colorful-planets-3197It’s interesting to live in two different worlds. That is what we do….john and I have the special and unique pleasure of getting to live different ways at different times. For much of our time, we live as “that couple”. We are the pair of friends that probably everyone has. Or, at least, we come close enough. We have an impressive group of vanilla friends. Long term relations, close proximity, lots of fun to be had in all kinds of ways. Everyone knows about our kink. We don’t hide it. We don’t flaunt it, either, but we certainly do not hide it. Everyone knows we take kinky vacations. We go to clothing optional places. We pack more toys than underwear. We are the ones who get the kinky cards at Christmas time. We get the gag gifts. Literally. We even got a “Fifty Shades of Chicken” cookbook from a giggling friend. How can anyone resist a recipe called “Thighs Spread Wide”?? Might actually make that one today.

So, yes….we live a solid and grounded life among the vanillas. We are vanilla when we need or want to be, although john never gets to stop being attentive to me. That’s a rule for life.

We also have regular opportunities to shoot on over to a neighboring planet, where all kinds of people from every walk of life get to get their kink on and live it 24/7 for the days on end. And for most events, I’m not talking a small group. I’m talking hundreds. Like, sometimes twelve hundred. That’s a lot of non-vanilla’s in one place.

During the next six weeks, we will be taking two kinky trips. One of them is 10 days away, which is why I am thinking about all of this, turning my thoughts to words. Here’s the naked truth: I am not sure I am great at planet hopping. Jumping from one world to the next, then back again. I’ve learned over the past 10 years that we’ve been doing this that I am pretty much Me at all times, in all places. I am equipped with a volume button and I can dial myself up or down when I want.  Or need.

Here’s the upcoming scenario: Two dominant, demanding, bossy, assertive women sharing a big hotel room with two submissive, humble, attentive men. Two couples, sharing one room at one time.

It’s easy to think about the fun parts of all of this. I picture Ms J and I, sitting overstuffed chairs,  wearing white robes, sipping coffee in the morning, perhaps using one of those boys as a footstool. I can envision massages, toes being painted, clothes being ironed. I feel the sting in my hand from spankings. I can see the drool from gags. I can taste the whimpering. All better-than-good stuff. Volume at high.

But then there will be the social moments in the public areas of the hotel. We will bump into kinky friends, see old acquaintances, flirt with new people. And in all of that, I will be Me being me. Chatty. Outgoing. Social. Sometimes funny.  Occasionally awkward. I’ll want to talk about sports (Go Pats!). I’ll avoid politics because it’s a disgusting topic for me these days. I’ll ask about holidays and kids…..dogs and work. I’ll have my boy nearby. He’ll likely be plugged. Caged. Locked. Those sorts of things keep him in a mindset that is a hard place to escape. It’s in these social moments where my interplanetary travel can lead to complications. I will do terrible, wonderful things to him in the privacy of our hotel room. To both him and the other boy as well. Two women, yielding canes, unleashing erotic, electric chaos.

The lobby will bring a different kind of chaos.  Unorganized, jostling, public. I will adjust. Adapt. Enjoy, even. But I don’t want to lose sight of my boy. The boys. I want to stay deeply connected to my john. I want to talk with others and yet at the same time, I want him to feel and know that he is my source of gravity that keeps me within reach of my home planet.

I’ve often set standards for my own behavior that are too hard for me to obtain. I go into an event having high expectations of myself. I picture myself looking and behaving a certain, sexy way and I picture myself executing all of these things with a poised perfection that is unrealistic. Give me a happy hour setting with a glass of wine in one hand, and a paddle in the other, and it’s a pretty sure bet the wine glass will see more action than the paddle. Not to say that I am an advocate for drinking and playing at the same time, for I am not. That’s an example of worlds colliding. I can’t travel between worlds if they are crashing into one another.

Knowing is half the battle, as they say. I know this upcoming event will be many different things taking place in a variety of settings with vacillating degrees of intensity.  The bigger event 4 weeks later will be no different.

What I want is to be as good as I can be at all things. Communication is the key. If I need john to simply be my sexy dinner date for the evening, then he will still be providing a desired service. We know how to travel these galactic highways. Those back roads.

Bob Seger has just infiltrated my brain as I write this. Here is what he is singing to me:

And we’d steal away every chance we could
To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods
I used her, she used me
But neither one cared
We were gettin’ our share
Workin’ on our night moves.

 

Every planet I’ve ever visited has a backroom. An alley. A trusty woods. My boy makes any place feel like the home planet. Our planet. Because….as they say….home is where the heart is.

 

 

Beg, borrow and steal

Offerings

Last month, we had a lovely encounter with another FLR couple who came to Maine for a visit. We did not know these people, but John had found them through a mutual following on Twitter. They reached out to him, saying that they were coming to our neck of the woods in Maine to visit the area and wanted to know if we wanted to get together for a drink. John made the arrangements and I ended up meeting the group after a previous engagement had ended.

To say they were delightful is an understatement. Both of them were wonderful and fun, and right away we recognized that their FLR dynamic was similar to our own. What started as a drink turned into 3 fun days of getting together for sight seeing, exploring Portland, shared meals and sexy cocktails in groovy places. We clicked immediately, and both john and I enjoyed the ease, companionship and shared joy that we all experienced. It seemed to me that She and I were the chatters of the group, whereas the men were a bit more on the quiet side. Although….it might be more accurate to say that the boys were perfectly average in their ease of banter while the women were exceptional. Yes…..this is a more accurate statement. Here’s why this is worth mentioning:

During one stop along the way, we were nestled on some comfy couches at a restaurant in front of a fire. Some appetizers had been ordered and placed before us as She and I were  busy chatting away. I became aware that her boy alternated between watching us chat and looking down at the food. Back and forth his hopeful and handsome face would drift, and  yet no food was touched. It struck me as mildly curious but then soon, he was able to catch Her attention and asked if she would like a bite. Her response was “No, not yet, thank you….but you may begin” to which he thanked her and began tasting….but only after he offered to prepare me a plate. So well trained!

A curious look must have passed across my face, as She looked at me, smiled brightly and said “Oh, it’s one of my rules. I tend to be more of the talker and have missed out on too many sips and bites because he will finish eating and drinking before I have even begun. So, I had to create a rule. I am to be offered the first and last bite and sip of whatever he his having. It works perfectly”.

I loved this! What a brilliant, simple, sexy idea! I have often had very similar experiences with John and had not really come up with a reasonable solution about how to deal with it.  I often found it awkward to be in a social setting and find myself wanting to chastise john for not remembering to offer me a taste of his unusual cocktail or meal before he had finished it. Generally, he is pretty good about sharing, but not always, and too many times as we would leave a restaurant and head to the car, I would address him sternly but it was always after the fact. I never liked how those parking lot moments could put a damper on an otherwise lovely evening. John is a good, good boy and I dislike being displeased with him.

This is what I love about spending time with other D/s people……some of the best, most practical things are ideas that are born of others. Some ideas I have stolen outright, and others I have modified for a better fit. This idea…..the ‘first bite/last sip’ rule I mimicked entirely, and it became law as of 01/01/2018.

This is a creative solution as we live with vanillas and often navigate two different worlds.  It would probably seem strange for us to be at home and for him to outwardly ask Me if I wanted a bite of the same exact meal we are all sharing as a household. To avoid that, I have added a rule. He is not allowed to have the first or last bite of a meal until I indicate he is allowed to begin eating. He is to wait patiently, plate untouched. I will either exercise my right to take that first bite, or I will casually and discreetly give a ‘thumbs up’ sign (often camouflaged by my running my fingers through my hair) which lets him know that I acknowledge his offering, but am declining it and he may begin his meal.

I really like this. It’s another leash he can wear no matter where we are or whom we are with. It makes him be attentive to me despite whatever distractions may be going on around us. It is a daily exercise in expectation and protocol….things that vacillate for us. And in an odd way, it makes me feel a bit more connected to our new friends, which I like too. It keeps a bit of their lovely spirit alive and well within us. I smile as I recall the first time I saw the rule in action….him kneeling between the coffee table and the couch, prepared to serve Her, blending in so naturally in a historic restaurant.  With one small wave of her hand, this beautiful woman commanded her boy in a way that seemed effortless and stunning. How could one not steal a page from a playbook such as that?? Thank you, Texas. Your spirit lingers in Maine.

Hello 2018

It’s been a long time since I have posted here, but it’s daily that I think about it.  I have missed this blog. It’s like an old, established friend that I think about but haven’t seen in too long. I’m not quite sure what it is that keeps me away, and I think about this daily too. I don’t have an answer to this particular part, but know that in this early morning hour, as the full moon sets and the below zero temperatures make the air seem thin and the lights of town twinkle brightly, it feels good to sit and write.

We are alive and well, my boy and I. Life has been, and remains, full and happy. The holidays were good. Yesterday was good. We didn’t make any long list of resolutions for the new year. Perhaps some quieter goals….some lofty, some not. But we did have a balanced day, which I love. Some productive chores at home, a couple of errands that needed to be run. To wrap up the day, we went to a hotel lounge that is near our home. I like this place. Easy parking, a fireplace in the bar area, big comfy chairs with lots of sports on lots of TV’s. My boy wore a plug and was still locked in chastity from the night before.  He was instructed to kneel before me as we sat in the lounge at some point during our visit. He complied beautifully, making it look as natural as it should be.

Yes, those around us at the bar looked and noticed. All who happened to look upon our exchange returned the smile I offered. Perhaps it was his kissing of my hand, my cheek. His smile, my smile. I think they liked the love between us that occupied the space. I liked the whole thing….the obedience, the comfort, the companionship, the wine, the fire, the cage and the plug.

The last errand of the day was unexpected to me, although he swears he told me he wanted to make a stop at the Home Depot. But I don’t remember him telling me this, so therefore it must not have happened (the law is the law). He was told he would receive one cane stroke for every minute I ended up waiting in the car. Oh, the protesting! I was a bit surprised at this…..my boy likes the cane. And my tone was playful. Perhaps the protesting was a showing of exuberance and I misread? Yes, I’ve decided. This must be the case.

Yesterday ended softly and our sleep was full. Now it’s morning. It’s the beginning of the work week. The beginning of the year. It’s the quiet time. January is like that in Maine. The hunkering time, as I call it.

That’s it for now….a soft visit to my blog. It’s good to be here. I wish myself many happy returns.

 

Yield

I have found myself in a different state around women in general. I yield. Very often. In the office, I’ll often yield to the ladies in the office (we’re about a 60/40 split F/m) and also at home I nearly always yield as well.

What do I mean yield? Mostly I’m talking about movement. At the office, yielding to the coffee pot, to the tricky blind corner around the reception desk, the doors, etc. At home, with the exception of in the kitchen (because hot things are hot and all the roommates know kitchens as their means of income in some way), I’m yielding. Steps, doors, etc. And even with some things in the kitchen. Though we generally have a “You cook, I clean…” deal, more often than not, if I cook, I’m helping with cleaning or leading most of it. (I did take the Christmas eve dinner cleanup OFF, however! I did cook for 6 hours – and other men cleaned up!).

It doesn’t generally happen in the car because identifying women in the car is just not enough time to process and to assume anything. At least in the office and home everyone’s genders are known.

In general with driving I’ve slowed down so while I’m not giving it away on the road, I’m following most of the rules and waiting my turn at the annoying four way stops. There’s just not enough time to do proper evaluation in a car. It could get messy too easily.

So, well, how is this different?

Well, I’ve become more in touch with my slave side lately. I have put off more of the things that make me happy and tried to ask less of Chloe when we’re playing. I’ve tried to keep up on the things she asks me to do. I’ve tried to impose less on her in general and try to help with more. I’m fully in acceptance of my sexual denial and consider the teasing a very fun thing that I look forward to. I’m perfectly happy to wait for the occasional orgasm that sneaks through and enjoy those as opposed to wanting to cum. (Remember, I can do orgasm w/out ejaculation – and it’s pretty awesome). And I’m also perfectly happy to pleasure my partner and let them roll over and sleep if they want. Frustrating, yes, but part of what I’m there for.

Now, what’s the problem with that John? Well, nothing. But…

(See, there it is!)

But it’s been offering me another instance of trying to offer better service. I think this is a good thing. I’ve often been actively in the process of doing my jobs in the house and had to step back, step aside, move back, redo things that I was doing to yield to the oncoming traffic. And there are a few things to feel about this.

First, I recognize my privilege in this one and realize that women through history have been doing this f o r e v e r. This is nothing foreign to them. Minorities as well. I sometimes see it when I’m the customer at service industry things (hotels, restaurants, etc) and I almost feel bad, but then I know that in some of these places, they’re expected to behave that way. But yes, I recognize that my ignoring this for so long is part of my white male privilege.

Second, I get frustrated. Oh, sometimes it frustrates the hell out of me. “Like, really, I’m trying to do this for YOU, why am I walking back to let you through?” Well, John, you’re moving back because you’re doing it for them, you ninny. Yes, all of it. It’s for them. Do the whole thing for them. You’re not just completing a task, you dolt. You’ve said it before to yourself, that your service is one of the ways in which you’re worshiping them and honoring them, so fucking do it then – all the way! Them coming along and getting “in the way” is not in the way (see point one on this for reminder, John) – it’s part of doing the job. But I do get frustrated. I sometimes cannot help it. I can only try to be better about it in the future and remind myself that the task is from beginning to end and all points in between. And to do the job for the whole job.

And lastly, it really is part of my doing things for people. If I’m not going to let Chloe go by while I carry her clothes upstairs, well, I’m being an idiot and not serving her in the way I should. And I could see where she might sometimes get upset with me and my pushing through with things while I’m doing such things for her. Just plain uncool.

Now, I do need to tack back to the kitchen thing. I don’t know that I can yield too much in the kitchen, particularly on complicated meals. I’m a pretty “mise en place” kind of person in the kitchen. I will proudly state that I’ve made strides in the kitchen, living with foodies. I work much better in a crowded kitchen than I used to. But there are times when I need the focus – and perhaps I need a better way to tell people “Hey, I’m really trying to not fuck this food up, can you come do that later?” or similar – but I’ll work on it. But jeezum, when I’m trying to plate up toast, eggs and the rest of breakfast at the same time for four plates at once, “GTFO da kishun!!!” I can also work on my timing too and get better here.

So, I have noticed I’m yielding much more. I’m certainly showing more deference to women in general. I sometimes get frustrated when I’m yielding, but I’m getting better about dealing with that. I have more work to do.