I’m wondering if I should play that number in the pick 4 lottery. It seems that 1881 is the number that represents some of my world in 2016.

18 is the number of times I ejaculated. Were it not for October, it would be 10. November was also a semi busy month with 4. I think October and the visit from Lady Jill was a great instigator in all of that (okay, she was responsible for a minority of those spills, but some of it was definitely her fault! (thank you, Miss!)).

81 is the number of days the cock was locked. Compared to so many folks in my blogroll and twitterverse, that’s NOTHING. There are people out there hitting 90 – 100% of time under lockdown. 22% is nothing to sneeze at, but it certainly pales in comparison. And that’s very much okay. But it’s a tool we use… that she uses… to enforce her will upon me. Typically it’s a good indicator of the number of days we spend apart. And if we spend around 20% of our time apart, that might be a little excessive and something to work on. But apart 1 in 5 days. Eep!

Madame asked me last night “Was 18 too many?” and I replied what was the correct answer – “It was as many as you let me have, so it was perfect.” And I do believe in that statement. If my orgasms belong to her, then she’ll let me have as many as she wants. In 2016, she wanted me to have 18 and that’s how many I had. Now, for 2017, I don’t know what she’ll want. I’m not sure she does either. Our lives wax and wane between chastity, open sex, denial, demand – and predicting or even goal setting on this kind of number could be hazardous.

Now, as far as the number 81, I’d be happy to see that number top 100, even if solely for the third digit. I might even like to see it top 182 – where we get from my mere 22% into 50% and beyond. But that is also up to her. And honestly, as I made use of this morning, I do love stroking the cock. Damn it does it feel good and let me wake up in a slow and joyful way.

So, I won’t let the numbers run our relationship (not that others who keep strict track do that, but their numbers may be their own semi-physical fetishes – and that’s totally cool – and hot) but I will, in the background, keep track of important numbers in relation to the practice of our FLR.

So, speaking of 1881, what happened in 1881?

  • Billy the kid escapes! (but not chastity)
  • Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience debuted (now that is apropos)
  • Red Cross Founded (I’m not sure they would render me aid in my distress)
  • Sitting Bull surrenders (I’ve certainly surrendered on multiple occasions to Madame)
  • Gun fight at the OK Corral (Just 10 men shooting off in the middle of the day – actually only 30 rounds, by most accounts, but still, just shooting freely)

I had a great year with Madame. We had our ups and downs, but all relationships are like that. That she completely controlled me all year long is an important aspect. That is one of the key parts of the sexual side of our FLR and I couldn’t be happier for it to be so. Happy New Year everyone! (And in case you care, we’re at zero – zero today).

Best first stop along the kinky camp road

Happily naked before he is ordered to swim.

Happily naked before he is ordered to swim.

It was 2 weeks ago today…..this morning….that we were loading up the very last of what would fit in the car. Troy toy had come by to see us off. He would be flying down a 6 days later to join us for his ‘first-ever’ kinky adventure.

We left a few days ahead of time in order to make a social stop. We took the ferry from Connecticut and landed in Orient Point, Long Island, NY. It is the remote part of Long Island, a lot of Vineyards, windy roads, farm lands. Beautiful. Within 6 minutes of being there, my boy found a public access trail that lead to the cliffs of the north shore. Crystal clear blue skies, tall grasses blowing in the breeze, wild flowers everywhere. All looking out over sparkling waters and rugged islands. Spectacular.

We walked down that public path, realizing quickly that we were the only ones on it. We got to the end, looked up and down the beach, and saw a few people about 1/4 mile away. Perfect. Within moments, my boy was told to strip naked, and he did. It was wonderful to talk photos of him like that. Million dollar homes in the distant background, far off boaters in the distant foreground, and in the middle of it all, my naked slave.

It is moments like this that I love so very much, the calculated risks we take to get and keep our kink on. We go to significant lengths to not be discovered by others. That would be non-consent. But we certainly press our faces up against that particular glass time and time again. We have fucked in public more times that I can count or recall. We’ve fucked, made love, we ripped into one another, and we have lingered. All while the busy world continues to hum all around us.

Up next: the road to kinky camp continues!

2016 - 1353



She goes to shows sometimes. This night, she headed to a show she has seen before, with a man who has bought her tickets before, who stands zero chance of getting into her pants, but is a good friend. And yet, I get a text like this from her and I am aroused and intrigued.

she tells strangers

she tells strangers

Indeed, she wore the key tonight, while I’ve been locked up for several days, including during this mornings parking lot orgasm thing… and yet she wears the key out with another man at another show where she’ll twirl and dance and enjoy the evening… while I am home packing up for our week long camp adventure. And I am perfectly fine with that. In fact, I want to know more about what she told strangers! It stands to be an awesome story!

I do enjoy being locked for her. And I look forward to being unlocked by her, but texts like this often can lead to other fantasies… and I’ll, perhaps, need to write about those ideas too! :)

And yes, my nickname for Chloe in my phone is “My Lover” – because we are just that to many others. Boyfriend, girlfriend, but I have, in the context of others, called her my lover and even corrected people who say “Your wife” with “Oh, no, sorry, she’s my lover.”

We’re not quite at the point where I’m telling them “No, I’m her plaything. Her submissive. She’s my Mistress and owner” but we are making some progress.

I also like how I can ask my phone “Locate my lover” and it’ll find out where she is. That’s a lovely feature. ;)

Not always behaved

This morning she posted and showered. I woke up and caffeinated. She sat there on the bed staring at the clothes, wearing a sweatshirt and panties.

I came into the bedroom and smirked at her, pushed her back on the bed, climbed up, kissed her deeply and slid down her body. And then – I misbehaved.

I pushed her legs back and rolled up her panties, exposing her beautiful pussy. The ring on her clitoral hood peeked out from between her labia. She smiled, I could hear her smile. I kept my hands on the backs of her thighs while I squatted in front of her. My tongue delved into her pussy to taste her and make her wet. I now stood in front of her, her legs in the crooks of my arms, I wet the head of my cock and slid deeply into her. She started talking “You’re not going to be able to last, are you?” I put a pillow on her face. She could hear my smile.

I fucked her. Hard. Deep. She pulled the pillow off her face and spoke again. “You couldn’t do this last night. You were so on the edge. Today you’re able to” her voice sang to me, pushing me higher. I put the pillow back on her face and fucked her hard and deep. I pulled her hands and pulled her body against mine as I turned from a good boy to a naughty boy. Soon I was at the edge and she started grinding against me, providing a delicious friction to my cock head and pushing me to the edge. I uttered “STOP!” quickly and she stopped, smiled and pulled the pillow off her face. Soon she did it again. Again and again we did this, until she had me pushed far too close to the edge. I smiled at her. I pulled out, squatted in front of her again, cleaned her pussy of her own lubrication and licked her as dry as I could, and briefly licked her ass when I was done. I then started to roll her panties back up her and she let her legs slide off the bed as I moved back, helping her dress. We kissed, deeply. “You’re a naughty dog… ”

“Yes, I am.” I smiled.

I showered and within 10 minutes of all this behavior, I am locked securely and her key dangles between her breasts.

Happily locked, looking forward to camp, thrilled to be her plaything. Life may be busy and stressful, but life is good. Very good.

Getting Ready


Camp. Kinky camp. It’s the annual trip we have been making for 8 or 9 years now, sometimes several times a year. It’s a place where over 1000 like-minded bring their toy bags and assemble their devious minds and play can go all day and all night if you want it to.

It’s the place where clothing is optional, and yet last night as I was packing, I was wondering why I am bringing more clothes than I’ll want or need. It’s the same question I ask myself every year.

So, round one of packing complete. Tonight, as my boy works on his own packing list, I’ll go through and weed out what I don’t truly need and what I don’t truly love.

This year, I am bringing both boys with me. Both will be in service, both will be my divine playthings, and all of us will sleep in one, big mattress pile.

I am so looking forward to exposing toy troy to all of this wonderment. It will be all brand new for him. Naked people walking happily. Sunbathers soaking it all in. Rope. Fire. Chastity. Costumes. Crosses and cages. I know not to do too much, too soon. Exposure and dabbling with be enough. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling giddy about it. I’m feeling really giddy about it!

John is working hard. Getting ready for camp is no easy feat. He does the bulk of the organizing and packing. He is the muscle and brain behind it all. The puppet on the end of my string. And with 106 days of chastity under his belt (pun totally intended), there is a cooped up energy that can’t be missed.

Our world is just like anyone elses. Busy, scheduled, frazzled at times. Juggling work, kids, home, money, chores, friends, activities. But then we get something like this…..this camp trip….and we realize how lucky we are. We get to do the things that most only wonder about, and I am forever grateful for that.


I have not decided about his release from his denial yet. I am not sure if I will allow him to have a cum. The start of camp will bring us to 114 days. And there are lots of benefits to that, but some challenges too. I like my fuckings. But I also love the energy that comes from him not cumming, even if it means less fucking. I’ll have to see. I simply have not decided yet.

It’s been a while since I have posted. Too long. I love that john has been picking up the slack, I appreciate him for that….very much so. I think sometimes that I don’t have anything incredible to blog about, but then I realize how lucky we are to get to do the things we do.  That’s pretty incredible.

Just the fact that I found both of these lovely men on Craigslist is amazing. What are the odds?? We have daily moments of extraordinary exchanges between us. Power exchanges. Female driven, and female lead. Some days are better than others. Some days are insanely perfect.  My confidence can vary, my energy can ebb and flow. But daily, no matter what, this is the way I want it…..the dynamic that feels exactly right to me. After all, we live in Maine… the land of “The Way Life Should Be”. Our life just happens to include collars and cages.


New chain

Madame requested a chain from which to hang her key for a recent milestone in our relationship. She received it. And yet, it was too short. She likes wearing my key around her neck, but the 20″ chain she already owned was too short – as it put the key very high up and too prominent. The 24″ chain I bought her put it lower, but not low enough. It would have to be the only neck jewelry she could wear and she’s usually more decorated than that. So the 24″ chain I got her for the milestone was too short, but she likes it nonetheless. I ordered a 30″ chain which arrived Friday. Sadly, when I ordered, I sent it to the Post Office. WTH was I thinking? I don’t know. But I left work, skipped out to the post and came back with a nice new 30″ chain. This puts the key deep into her cleavage, enough so that people MIGHT see it, but not necessarily. And it gives her the option to keep the key very close, but not quite in people’s faces.

Of course, there’s a part of me that enjoys her wearing it right where everyone can see. And anyone can ask “What’s that key for?” and she can either tell them or not. But if the 30″ chain means she can wear the key more often, I’m fine with that. I’m more than fine with that. I wonder if she knows that many keyholders wear the key around their ankles…

And my little fantasy brain sometimes takes us to places where she’s wearing the key very obviously, we’re at a bar together, and some man hits on her, asks her what’s the key for and she tells him. And invites him to her bed… But… is that a fantasy only? Or is it a reality I want? Like many, I’m not sure how I’ll feel if/when it happens, but it’s certainly very arousing to think of.

Close to the edge

Last night was an absolutely lovely night. I worked hard at the office, worked hard at home, but I also enjoyed half a beer, which was nice. Still on my way toward losing the weight, but taking some pleasure along the way. And after all, beer is bread and bread is essential. Well, sort of.


We had a good evening and I ran some errands, but we ended up in bed and I did my cleaning of her, as usual, but then I lingered around her bottom longer. Again, she lay on her belly and left side, her right leg bent a little and my head rested on the inside of her left thigh as I kissed her ass and rubbed her back. I did this for at least 20 minutes, if not a half hour, all the while my cock strained, full and hard. She sent a signal for her to join me and found her balls in her left hand, she squeezed them very hard, almost making me orgasm with the first squeeze. “I was thinking about fucking that cock, but you’re probably useless to me, aren’t you?”

“Probably so, Ma’am.”

But in the end, it didn’t stop her. She rolled to her back and we assumed “the most comfortable fucking position in the world” and I entered her. Several times as she would raise her hips I would pull my cock out, or I would simply say “stop stop stop!!” as she started grinding. Eventually, there were enough close calls, enough times where the edge was reached, that I was able to safely be inside her for a moment or three. I also did some math problems in my head. Yes, it’s true, I wasn’t thinking entirely of my Mistress while she fucked me. She continued, I did my best. “1,576, 1,583, 1,590… ” and yet eventually she brought herself up to an orgasm, so beautifully and she tilted her pelvis just slightly, rubbed against the head of my cock, she uttered “Good boy!” and this sent me right up to the very edge of the cliff and I pulled out uttering a reply of “NO!” as I was so very very close to cumming. To spilling it all. To changing the odometer from 98 to 0. Because yesterday was day 98. Tomorrow is day 100. And last night was an orgasm for my Mistress that she said I “robbed something from her… ” for which I feel so very bad.

The denial thing is lovely. It’s fun. We have a great deal of fun with it. But I do confess that the way it puts me on edge and makes me not be able to fuck her in the way that she deserves is one of the hardest parts of it. She deserves to get a good cock to be able to fuck her hard and long, but when I’ve been denied, and when she whispers anything to me, it sends me so close to the edge and risks pushing me over.

I know last night that the bucket spilled over into her. It’s not unusual. It’s not terrible. It helps to take some of the edge off of the sexual peak and allows me to be in some way useful to her as a cock-wielding man. But damn does it take a while to get to a safe place. And sometimes it still leaves me very near the edge.

Tomorrow will be 100 days since we all had leap day. I bet you didn’t know that. But I know it. Very much so. And I feel bad that Madame had part of her orgasm taken away from her, absolutely. But I wasn’t going to let the accident happen and turn that odometer back to zero. That would have been far worse, especially as we start packing for camp, where I’m hoping she might let me spill, somewhere in the realm of over 112 days or more. Or perhaps she won’t. I still don’t know. I still think it may have to do with whether I make my weight loss goal. But we’ll find out before the end of the month. Day 99. Whew. Remind me to post about the whole counting and big numbers thing. I’ve wanted to post about that too.

“I like that”

Saturday morning, I was up early for some reason, perhaps the swollen cock in the tube had something to do with it. Madame woke up for a pee and went back to bed, insisting I come pet her back to sleep, which I did. I snuggled in and she groggily asked “Did you ever fall back asleep after you were kneeling by the bed?” I indicated that I had, but then was awakened again later by the same thing and never went back to sleep. She squeezed my balls and said “I like that.”

She has grown to enjoy my being in chastity and I in turn love that. Chastity certainly isn’t much fun when practiced alone, though the masturbatory fantasies surrounding lockup certainly can fuel the fires of a solitary person – I get that – believe me I do. But it’s so much better with two (or more!) people involved in the game.

Nekkid May!

So, Nekkid April was posted, I think, but Nekkid May – not so much! I might have tweeted one of these already, but I’ll continue with the posting of them, because I know some people don’t twitter and, well, this is already blathering far beyond 140 characters!

Nekkid on the rocks

Nekkid on the rocks




This was taken off a small trail in an area that’s a land preserve. It’s so nice we have these little tiny spaces of land where people can explore and get a little bit of naked time – well – if those little places are deserted, like this one was. I like this image because I can actually see progress on the weight loss I’ve been working on. Compared with the image I see of myself every morning, which is from the front, this one let’s me see the image of me from the back and side, which actually cuts a nice figure. I need to lose more, but I’ll get there, I am sure. :)

Full frontal nekkid on the rocks

Full frontal nekkid on the rocks

And of course the second image is one in which I show that I am, indeed, locked up and for this stint of time, it was almost a week of constant lockup, as I was house sitting and away from my Mistress, so she wanted me locked, and so it was. I think she enjoys seeing me display the pictures of me locked, knowing how deeply she actually owns me, far beyond a metal tube, but then, that kind of ownership doesn’t need a metal tube, does it?

Nekkid June promises to provide lots of opportunity for nekkid, as we have CAMP! We’ll show up early for our kinky camp, set up the place, play at the place, tear it all down and if the weather cooperates, we’ll get lots and lots of naked time. I’ll have a wonderful tan by the end.



Today is day 88 of my boy not being permitted to have a cum.

By the time we leave for our kinky vacation in mid June, and by the time we get there, it will be 112 days of no relief, no release, no significant spills.

I love the dance that comes with this kind of denial. It gets to a point where his desperation makes him slavish. He gets so hungry for something that he can’t have, something he is so close to, but is not allowed to touch. I think of this, and I can picture his lovely face, his beautiful head among the pillows…..thrashing, yearning, craning, reaching. It’s a beautiful, aching torture that I never tire of watching.

His eyes can get unfocused as he looks up at me. There is a soulful pleading in those eyes, one that begs for permission to cum, and the at the same time, one that implores that the denial continues.

Chastity key

This is the actual key in the actual cleavage that locks this dog up by this Mistress

And continue it does. I do not know if he will be allowed to have sweet release from this cage during our vacation. We have done this before… gone through prolonged periods of denial, mixed in with healthy doses of being under lock and key. But generally speaking, I have allowed him that glorious moment before, where all of the “No’s” that he has heard over the months suddenly and unexpectedly become a whispered “Yes”, and his body is shuddering and spasming and releasing him from his captivity as his mind blinks and hesitates in almost bewildered disbelief. It is in this exact moment that I cannot contain my smile. It is this moment that I drink in as his body arches off the bed, yearning up towards me, trying to fall into My soul for some kind of safekeeping lest he be swept entirely away. It’s a small moment that has enormous emotion attached to it. Sometimes there is a cry at the end, where the noises are soft, and yet the gripping upon whatever part of my body he can hold on to is fierce. I hold him in those moments, and I soothe, and I smile.

And then…..when the moment has passed, and the petting has ceased and the mess has been cleaned up… I smile at My boy, I look down upon his lovely being, and I reset the clock again. Because it all starts with day 1.