Unwrapping the weekend


Breakfast served by naked and collared

What a lovely few days it has been. John was off to far away lands where he was able to ‘slave’ and play and be in service around thousands of other dominants and submissives. More on those details in the near future, but suffice it to say, I am glad he is home after a lousy 10 hour drive from the DC area.  While he was away, I got to spend several lovely days with toy troy who although wasn’t feeling 100%, put a lot of effort into his service and submission.

The picture in this post is the breakfast I woke up to on Friday morning. I don’t know that I can recall having had a candle-lit breakfast! I generally don’t eat much in the morning, but this was too beautiful to pass up. Troy was naked, in his collar, and seems magically at home in the kitchen. He is a good cook and I got to be the beneficiary of that. Several times, actually.

My vanilla girlfriend and I did go down to the Fetish Flea this weekend. That too was an event that held thousands of kinky people. She had never been before so it was fun to watch her watching all of the latex clad lovelies stroll around the enormous hotel complex. There was lots and lots of shopping and looking. Many, many vendors selling all sorts of anything dastardly and sexy you can imagine.

We were treated well. Troy had created a picnic for us that was insanely amazing. A dozen containers of meticulously packed foods, all beautifully thought out and packaged. Smoked meats and cheeses, nuts, fruits, jams, olives, pickles, slices of spiral ham separated with orange slices. We had croissants. Fig jam.  We had ceramic plates and cloth place mats and napkins, even a baggie with candles and matches. We drank wine and finished with chocolate. My girlfriend declared it was too beautiful to eat, and she was nearly correct.

I loved picturing troy at home doing all of this prep work. I know he really likes my friend and thinks she is wonderful and sexy (she is!). I think it made troy feel happy to be serving both of us in a way. I love the attention to details, the beauty of what he created. It made me feel proud of him when we shared this bounty with many others; he got an A++ for such efforts, and was rewarded with a few hand crafted toys of his own that I purchased for him from the flea.

One of my highlights of that trip was the unexpected encounter we had at a local restaurant after the flea had ended for the day. My girlfriend and I had gone to a steak house that was incredibly crowded. It was a two hour wait for a table. Thanks, but no thanks. Just as we were about to leave, two seats opened up at the bar, and we nabbed them as no reservations were needed and no one seemed to be waiting for them.

There was a very sexy couple sitting to my right. We didn’t talk for most of the meal, but they looked sharp and dressed and ready for something other than a steak house. I started chatting with them towards the end of the meal, making some comment about how crowded the restaurant was, etc. They asked if we were local, and I said no. They asked what brought us down to Rhode Island.

I smiled, and asked, “Do you really want to know??”

They looked at one another, looked back at me, and said, “Yes, sure. Of course”.

“I am here for the Fetish Flea”. I said, smiling, knowing where this would go.

“The what???“, they asked in unison.

“The Fetish Flea. Fetish flea market.”, I again said, smiling.

“What’s that??” they asked with widening eyes and open faces.

Again……“Do you really want to know??”

Emphatic head bobbing confirmed that they did indeed want to know.

I proceeded to tell them, with my girlfriend leaning over and chiming in on the conversation. We told them about the 50 or so classes they could take on kink and power exchange. About the demonstrations.  About the shopping. About rules of the hotel and how people could walk around in various states of dress or undress, as long as your pretty parts were covered. We told them an overview of the entire event, that it went on all weekend, and they were shocked. “We have been living in this town for 25 years and we had no idea this was going on a mile from our house!!!”. They went on to say, “We have been looking for something like this for years! Oh my god, we are going tomorrow. We can’t wait. We are amazed….how did we not know??”

I don’t recall seeing two people leave a restaurant so quickly, practically pulling each other out the front door. The woman stopped, ran back to the bar in her fur coat and high heels, and grabbed both me and my friend, pulling us tightly to her perfumed bosom, thanking us for telling them, and dashed off to be with her man.  It was a fun moment. A sexy moment. With total strangers. How lovely to say to someone, “Do you really want to know??” and have them say “Yes!!”.

Valentines Day was lovely. Insanely cold (twenty below!!!). We woke, had coffee, napped, woke, napped, showered, went out for a lobster lunch, did a little shopping and then to a local bar. I got to meet many of troy’s friends, and that was really nice. All excellent people who seemed very curious about me. Troy said to be honest about how we met, so Craigslist was the truthful answer. Everyone seems to think that Craigslist is junk these days. It is not, we assured them, smiling.

John is back. We spent last night cuddled in bed, fucking and talking. We were under the covers by 7pm, asleep by 9, I think. My boy is not feeling well either; its the month of colds, it seems. More on some of his stories over the next few days. Lots of good stories. He came back exhausted and happy. I haven’t looked over his body enough to see if there are bruises or marks. I am still figuring out if he gave more or received more….seems to be a good amount of both. It was fun for us to recount for one another our adventures. If we couldn’t be together, then we we will do our best when apart. I think we all got an A++ this round. Stuff like this makes the dead of winter survivable.





Oh, when did that happen?

This morning, she woke me a little earlier, as I had asked her to. And I went back to sleep.

Later, she came back in with a slightly barkier tone in her voice telling me to get up. When I groaned at her, she acted by pulling the covers down (CRUELTY!) and then grabbing a cane, with which she struck my hip, the place I really hate to be struck with anything. I made a terrible effort of pulling the covers back over me and she pulled them back down. “Okay okay, I’m up, I’m up!” as I started getting up out of bed.

“Lie back down, on your stomach.” She wasn’t done with me. She caned me, perhaps a dozen strokes, but still, enough to get some blood flowing and whimpering from me.

“Okay, I’m up!” I whined and started sliding off the bed.

“No! Back up there!” I resumed my position. “Two more for whining” she said as she brought the first stripe across my ass, harder than all the others. She followed up with a second one, equally painful.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, pup.”

I then proceeded to make the bed, as is my morning ritual, she helped with some of it as well, as it’s so much easier with two people. I drowsily tucked, folded, stacked pillows setting it all up for the evening, my cock half erect and rubbing against sheets and wool blankets. I removed my collar, hung it up and asked for my glasses. She gave them to me. I set about my morning duties in the rest of the house – mostly drinking coffee, checking our social media efforts and simply waking up.

His collar hanging

A collar hangs on the lamp post

After she left, I showered and returned to the bedroom, I looked at the collar, as you see it hanging in the photo. I reached up to my neck in disbelief, even though I knew I never would have worn it in the shower, to feel my collar. It really wasn’t on my neck. I tried to remember when I put the collar on the lamp. Did I? Did she? When did the collar show up on the lamp? I honestly could not remember. I was hit by this pang of sadness and grief. How could I forget taking it off? It’s my collar. Well, it’s her collar that she uses exclusively on me. I remembered putting it on the night before. I asked her “may I please have my collar? ” and put it on before we lay down together and I read to her until she fell asleep. I remember that. I remember feeling it between my neck and chest, keeping me from bending my neck down to properly read the computer screen. I remember that discomfort. But I could not remember removing it this morning.

It upset me that I could not remember this part of the ritual. This part of my life with my Mistress. It’s a very symbolic part, but it is a secure collar. She has used it to direct me where she wants me to go. She has pulled me into her to lick or kiss here or there. She has held me fast with the leash and collar. So it is more than symbolic, but it mostly serves as a reminder that I am hers, owned by her. I wear her collar as her property and proudly so. And yet I could not remember one of the more important parts of my day, removing the collar for the vanilla day.

And now, writing this, I’m thinking “Well, why will I need to remove the collar once the last roommate heads out for her winter away?” Then I won’t be removing the collar in the morning. It will get removed when I shower. It will get removed at some point before work. It will get placed back on after work and I return home, so maybe it’s okay. I’ll have time to awaken, sip coffee, get into the morning and really wake up, then be able to remove the collar for my shower and place it wherever it goes before leaving for work. So, at the same time I’m feeling upset that I forgot how the collar was removed this morning, I’m thinking and smiling at the idea of the collar staying on for so much longer. I look forward to the days when being naked in our house except for my collar are a regular part of our days. I very much look forward to it. And then the collar will have a new home – not on the lamp. I’m not sure where, but I can’t see why it will live on the lamp, particularly if I’m putting it on when I get home from work. And for that, I can smile.

Sometimes a post starts in one place and through writing it, it goes somewhere completely different. I look forward to the future to come with Mistress – that one where she can act out on stories she writes in her mind and I can take a deeper look at my service to her in the days to come.