ISO update

I’m still in the ‘getting to know you‘ phase of  things when it comes to new boy #1 and new boy #2. Things that I like include how into this kinky thing they both are. I like how different they are from one another. I like that one of them has some experience, and the other has none. He is my new toy to mold and shape. How lovely to be the brand new beginning for someone else.

I like the enthusiasm they both demonstrate. It’s not loud, they’re not shouting it from rooftops (that I know of, anyway) but they both admit to being happy. Excited. Hopeful.

‘Hopeful’ is something that applies to us all.

I found these two from Craigslist. I placed an ad, got a ton of replies, and these are the two that agreed to meet. It is so interesting to me that out of the nearly 100 replies I got seeking a male submissive, nearly all didn’t believe that the ad was real, or that I was real. What got ‘t’ and ‘p’ through my front door is that they took a chance that I was real.

Taking chances. It seems to be theme for me as of late. But more on that in a later posting.

I had dinner with ‘p’ last night. john was home alone, studying for a meeting, and I had ‘p’ meet me at a pub. I had brought with me a BDSM checklist, and I had him do it in front of me. All the fetishes practically known to man, all condensed on a couple pieces of paper.

It was delightful for me. I loved watching him as he filled out the answers. I could see the blushing in his face. I could see his eyes widen, and the pencil bounce in his fingers. I played with my phone in an effort to give him some privacy and not be staring at him too much. But I couldn’t help watch the adorable squirming on the other side of the table.

I don’t know how things will pan out. I really do want a service submissive to be a part of the dynamic we have. Occasionally, I want to be wined and dined. Pampered. It’s that simple. I don’t, and won’t, apologize for it. I want a variety of experiences. I want a range of opportunities. It is mostly fun and games in an adult world. But there will be times when it is more than that, and even less.

So, that’s the update in ISO.

There is more brewing in our kinky world. I have not written about it yet, but I will. There are some deeper, darker, sexier, raunchier things in the works, and I am looking forward to them. I feel in some ways like I am playing the part of artist. I have a bunch of things piled in front of me, all different mediums and textures, colors and shapes. I can assemble them in a thousand different ways. I have not figured out yet how it will look. Maybe the pieces will assemble themselves and they’ll create their own life force and beauty. Maybe I will be the maker of shapes. I don’t have any idea yet. But it feels exciting. That much I know is true.

Until tomorrow…..

When I’m on fire…..

I want to make a few comments on john’s post from yesterday, “Switching“.

For me, I thought it was hot as hell. I know that’s a very personal observation, and I am being purely subjective, vs objective.

It’s personal because when I took my first, terrifying, tentative steps into the world of BDSM, John was there. He was, and has been, my primary partner and my most trusted everything. I learned my entire platform of learning from him.

I started as a submissive, or, at least, I thought I was submissive. All of my fantasies….the ones that turned me on, the ones I’d reach under the covers and touch myself to when when I was a teenager…. all had me as the heroine in distress, where I was rescued, held captive, and loving tortured for the rest of my happy days. For years and years (like, 25!), those were my fantasies.

Then, I met John, and he was the exact embodiment of those fantasies, and I swooned.

I still swoon over this guy, and it’s been a decade.

We learned very quickly that there is nothing submissive about my personality. I simply can’t hack being submissive and being told what to do for more than about 9 minutes. But bottoming? I didn’t know there was a difference, but once I learned the difference between bottoming and submitting, I clearly knew that I was a dominant who liked to bottom on occasion.

Really….the absolute best of both worlds, if you ask me.

As I learned and saw more within the BDSM world, my fantasies became deeper and darker.  They became darker because I included things in them I didn’t even knew existed. Who knew you could actually apply  lots of fire to a human body and have it be sexy and amazing??  I didn’t know that at age 20 or even 25. I didn’t know until I did fire play….one of the nicest things ever! I’ve tried so many things, things I never, ever thought I would try.

I am also very content knowing that some things are much better left in fantasy than in reality but for the most part, so much of it is simply amazing!

So it goes.

But John was always the exact cornerstone of my fantasy base. When I met him, I lost 40 pounds because I forgot to eat. I am not kidding, at all. That is how much I was captivated.

So, about John’s post from yesterday, his dominant side: I know it is there. I know how turned on I get when I get to see it. It’s the best aphrodisiac in the world for me.

But reading it also make me realize something that was hard for me to admit. Sad, even.

What hit me when I read his post ‘Switching’ was that I am simply not brave enough to handle his deepest, sadistic side.

I really don’t think I will get to be that girl, because I just don’t think I can hack it. I don’t think I could handle what I know he could mete.



These are particularly deep, kinky places that we are talking about. They are not for everyone. I don’t know that they are for me, even.

I have  been in professional dungeons more times than I can remember, and I have seen everything I can think of seeing, including what I would call “the most extreme” while still remaining SSC (safe, sane, consensual). I really don’t know what John means when he talks about the deepest aspects of his sadism. I haven’t asked, because I don’t actually want to know. Because what if we did decide I could handle it, or try handling it? Then I’d know what to expect, and I don’t want to know those things, I don’t want to remember them. If I am able to have that experience with him, then I want it to be brand new to me.

Knowing that John loves me as he does, it makes my head tingle knowing that we can do these things to one another. How deeply, deeply sexy to create loving torture on the one we care about so much??  John could, if we played out that scene, do terrible things to me, but defining ‘terrible’ is in the eye of the beholder.

And if that were happen, I would want to be sexy about it. I would want to be tied and gagged and immobilized. I would want to be retrained from screaming and running away. Because, I have struggled to handle when he has been particularly hard on me, and with snot running down my face, I have tried to get up and run. Not very sexy at all. I dislike the mental image of that. In my mind, I am strong and stoic and sexy as I endure. In reality, I am a blubbering, sloppy, begging mess. Ugh. Very Unsexy to me.

But I also know that this  messy image is a turn on for others. Again, all in the eye of the beholder.

I just happen to be my own beholder, that’s all.

I don’t have to decide now. But we have not really talked about this level, this side, of his kink in years. Until, that is, he posted about it yesterday. And I smile, knowing we still have so many stones unturned, so many places we can still visit if we so choose.

When I get an itch to bottom, I will crave  him pull my hair, rough me up, spank my ass, boss me around, and fuck me hard and it is enough.  He can intimidate and scare me with his strictness, which I love (ok, it makes me verrry wet). He is a very strong guy, and he can literally do what he wants with me, if he is allowed to. It completely satisfies. And really, I can handle an evening of it, and the itch is scratched, and I am done. It is so incredibly interesting to me, because when nights like this happen, I can literally feel my dominant side (we call her Madame) standing off to the side, tapping her foot, getting impatient to return. I love that she is standing there, as though the bottom of me were getting its tires changes, and Madame is eager to hit the road.

I get that bottom fix, those tires changed, and I am done. Those bags are packed, and I am out the door, as quickly as I came.

Bottoming to me is like vacationing…..nice place to visit a couple of times a year, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

I love living in the land I do: where this female rules the roost, where I am queen of the hill, and where that complex, loving, submissive, loyal, sexy boy john awaits me. That is where I live.

It’s been nice posting about this, thinking about it, and getting roughed up a little bit by John as of late. Such a lovely vacation. Back to reality.

Reality is, it’s 9am, and my boy john is still sleeping, and I am itching to wake him.

<Insert evil smile here>

Good and painful and chocolatey

Yesterday was a good day. For the very large part, it was fantastic.
It had really great moments in it, ones that I didn’t expect to be that good, and ones that made me really happy.

And, it had in it too a few minutes that hurt. I almost cried. I didn’t, but almost.

Date number one was very successful. I am not going to say too, too much in this posting. Not yet, anyway. But suffice it to say, it was really good. I liked him immediately. He had an openness, a happiness, an ease about him and a smile that I found very comfortable to be around. We only had a short 45 minutes to meet because I was teaching a class all day, and didn’t get to take much of a break during the day, but I did scoot out during lunch and meet with him.

He is cute! “Cute” doesn’t matter if you’re an asshole, but this guy did not seem to have any of those qualities. He just seemed…..I dunno…..excited. Curious. Willing to give it a shot.

Our schedules meld perfectly. We live ridiculously close to one another. He does not appear to have any baggage, any bullshit, any reservations that lead me to believe that this does not have potential. I know it’s only the very first meeting, but it would feel a whole lot different if my first impression was shaky and guarded. It was anything but.

Of course, we did not get to talk specifics, and I really wanted to.

I honestly don’t know how he’ll feel about the sexy and  exciting details of what I’m looking for. I did outline those things pretty specifically in my ad, so he must have an idea, but talking about them is another thing all together.

I wonder how he’ll react when he learns that during lunch, I had a hard desire to know what his face looks like when being spanked. That I wanted to see him on his knees, looking up at me, as I looked down upon him, smiling at my new toy.

I wondered what he’ll think when he knows how my imagination is so very amped up right now. I thought of our cute little winter nest here in Maine, me doing some writing while the two are naked in the kitchen, cooking, preparing a cocktail, working together in nothing but flesh and collars. I imagine looking across the room at such a thing, and feeling very delighted.

It’s only the very beginning, yes. And anything could happen, I know. I absolutely need to have a deeper, more detailed conversation. I need to start slowly, thoughtfully and carefully. ‘Cause really… only get one chance to make a first impression.

Date one did an excellent job at this. I am delighted. It really couldn’t have gone any better, for the 45 minute date that it was.

I have plans to meet person number 2 tonight. I am curious to see how it goes. And then there is the lovely sounding stephi on friday afternoon. I think this is plenty. Meeting these fine people is just the beginning. What to do with a new toy such as this is totally different.

The painful part of my day?? I’m not even sure I want to write about it. But I will. It’s ridiculous and I’m slightly embarrassed about it, but here it goes.

Last night I was alone, john was out with co-workers, I had my pool league later in the evening. I stopped at home for an hour or so. I needed to do something for dinner. I didn’t want to deal. I didn’t want to go out by myself. So…..I did what any idiot would do…..I finished off the last two inches of the Ben and Jerry’s container, and then had a coke.

What. The. Fuck.

Who does that? Ice cream and soda for dinner?? Jeeze…..I have not done that in I don’t know how long. It was awful. As soon as I did it, I thought, “What the hell, Chloe….that’s disgusting”. But I did it. And then I took a 15 minute power nap before pool.


I was feeling a little tuggy at john. Sometimes I just crave him to take me. So, I texted him and mentioned my crappy choice for dinner. I specifically said, “The last bit of Ben and Jerry’s and a coke are not good dinner choices, and not healthy. I hereby order you to sternly lecture me against such choices”. john is very good at being stern when he wants to be, and I know this. And kinda of like it.

Ok, I like it a lot sometimes, to be honest.

Anyway, that request somehow turned into an over the knee spanking that he administered to me. And then a paddling. Damn, I hate paddles. But, he was fast, not terribly hard, and he caressed my ass cheeks very sweetly with each stroke. I liked it. But I didn’t like so much was taking off my”Mistress” hat, if even for 3o minutes of switchy fun. I am still figuring out how to maintain the small switchy part of our relationship, because I don’t feel submissive in any way.

Sometimes I just want him to take me. End of story.

For a finite period of time, I just want to be overcome by him.

And then it needs to be over. I want and need my power pack after that.

This morning I gazed at his beautifully sleeping form, and immediately secured his collar back around his throat. Right where it belongs. I smiled. I love that my ass still feels a tiny bit warm, and it’s a great itch that I get to get scratched. I love that I can still switch at times with him, because it makes me happy. I am glad that we can do this, and that I can ask for it when I want it. This is good.

I think I might go reward myself with a spoonful of chocolate cake.

Chocolate cake is a good breakfast choice, isn’t it??


ISO continued….

16873254585_2cca04616e_zRegarding an earlier post (ISO), I was asked in a comment if it turns me on to see my sub engaged with another man sexually. My immediate thought was, “Well, yes, of course it does”, but on the heels of that, I had another thought, equally loud, that stated, “But it’s not just that….”

The short answer is that yes, the idea of him sexually engaged with with another man does many good things for me, on several different levels. Over the years, when I have had him flat on his back and I’ve been riding him, I will lean over him and whisper tales about him being fucked and used by another man, and I see what it does to him. I feel his hard become harder. I see rapid breathing become panting. My stories are often short but detailed, sort of like movie trailers that highlight the ‘Best of’. It can get him hooked, and he wants to know more.

We don’t actually get too many opportunities to make the fantasy a reality, but we do get some. My boy knows that my stories are just that…..stories, but he also knows that I have enabled some of those stories to become true. He will never really know what might become a reality, and I like keeping him in that suspense.

I want a bit more of the reality. When I placed my personals’  ad over a week ago, it was with the hope of finding just the right fit for us. I will sound like a bitch when I say this (and I don’t really care), but I want exactly what I want, or I want nothing at all.

Yes, I hold all the power, and I can make all the decisions when it comes to bringing another male submissive into our fold. I have received a good number of replies. I am appreciative of that. I respond to all, I am polite to all, but I know instinctively that I will be weeding out many. The things that ‘get’ me in these replies are perhaps not the things that are hot and sexy to others. I don’t actually care that someone can lick a pussy for 27 hours straight without stopping and that they have a nice dick and know how to use it. To me, that is about them, and not about what it is I seek.

I get more interested when someone can actually write and express themselves as a whole. If they are interesting, I become interested. Good grammar is a turn on for me. Yup….I admit it. I met my boy of 10 years because I put up a craigslist ad for 12 hours and he was the one who wrote with intelligence and thought. He got me at hello.

So, 10 years later, I am still attracted to the same things. An ability to connect. A desire to serve. An openness to explore. An intelligence that is shared. And a certain amount of inhibition.

I know it turns my boy on to be taken by another man. I want to see my boy on his hands and knees, in the living room, as another man sits on the leather couch, legs spread, head thrown back in pleasure, as my boy practices giving head. I envision myself in the kitchen (its an open concept, I can see all), pouring a glass of wine, watching but not staring. I want my boy to hear me tinkering about, knowing the entire time I am observing, judging, surveying, rating his performance.

I want to see this additional man grab him by his hair and pull him deeper. I want to hear my boy gag and see the man let up slightly until my boy collects his composure, and it starts again.

I want my boy to excel at the art of giving head in part because I know he wants it. My boy is pan sexual. I like honoring that.

But it’s not that easy. Putting an ad out to the universe, seeking an intimate counterpart to our established dynamic is challenging. It is daunting, actually. I can be a bitch, yes (and oh, how I like to be!) but I am also aware that hurting someones feelings is not a game I ever want to play.

I have exactly what I want all mapped out in my head. It is now about being flexible enough to go down a road or two and see what pans out. I have to remember that we are all human. We all are vulnerable to the same human fear of rejection. I will not reject someone because their cock is too small, or because they aren’t tall enough or make enough money. But I will reject someone who can’t and won’t recognize us as safe, sane and interesting. As the Grateful Dead sings, “I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance”.

So, yes. The ad is bringing good things. A few have completely piqued my interest. I know that I am liking how they present, what they have to say. I have not completely mapped out what it is that I want of them. I know that I want them to be pan sexual as well. I know that I will reserve the right to use them while my boy watches. I know I want service from them…..some measure of cooking, cleaning, doing. I will want to know all about their pleasure buttons too, and they things they dislike. I may want them to join us on one of the kinky, week long vacations we usually take twice a year…..6 days of kinky fun with 1000 other kinky adults, play spaces open 24 hours a day, clothing optional. Fantasy Island for adults. I will want them to be naked in such a place. I will want to send them over to the cabin next door and offer their services in massage and cleaning for a few good women who adore such things.

I want an additional toy that I can thoroughly and easily enjoy. I have one, but there is room for another. My boy john will always be my number one, and that’s just the way it goes. But there is room for more joy, more fun, more creativity. Will the submissive male who agrees to meet want this too?? I am not sure.

But I also know that I won’t forgive myself if I do not take the chance.



Constructing Tales

My boy has become accustomed to me telling him stories. Often, when we are fucking, I will whisper tales to him that are more or less fantasies we both individually and collectively share. Sometimes I will let stories unfold, vividly painting him in the picture, setting the stage, and adding enough detail so that he can envision the imagines created in my mind.

Other times, I will delve straight into the heart of the matter, surpassing all of the background and backstory, and I will put my energies into portraying him as the main character, the sexual slave who is at the complete will and mercy of a roomful of strangers who have gathered for the soul purpose of using my boy for their sexual pleasure.

I will be riding my boy, grinding down upon his cock, my hips slightly swaying so that I might swallow every possible inch of him, and I will start to talk. My voice ends up being more throaty than usual because I speak in hushed tones, wanting him to concentrate on hearing me, forcing him to remain quiet so he won’t miss any of the details. I will talk about his training, how one day there will be another in our lives who will exist for the exclusive purpose of helping me train my boy.

I envision this man……and yes, more often than not, the fantasy is of another man… a dominant counterpart who is more than happy to be aggressive and assertive with my boy as he instructs him on how to  pleasure and please. Sometimes my fantasies are of another submissive male that I have acquired, one who is dominant to my boy, but submissive to me. I will use them both as players for my fantasies and training objectives. Or, I will use one as punishment for another.

My boy has spilled his seed many times over the months, without consent, without permission. At times, he has been unable to control himself, and ends up spilling his mess despite strict orders not to. Training is required. Punishment must be summoned. And I thoroughly delight in the idea that another will be invited in to assist with those two things.

We are finally at the point where those fantasies have a real shot at becoming realities. Soon…..very soon…..the personal ad I have been constructing in my mind will become a reality, and I will begin my search for  the ideal confidant

7563557368_a16438f66b_zwho will be more than delighted to be an occasional but regular visitor in our home. This man will show up after work, in winter darkness, and will do as instructed. He will use my boy, his holes, his service, and he will be an instrumental part of the rewards and punishments. The stories that once thrived only in my mind will become realities, and they will breed new stories, real stories, and more fodder from which my boy will feed.

When I straddle my boy, and ride him as I did yesterday, and I instruct him to keep is mouth wide open (his cunt, as I call it), it is for a reason. Because that WILL happen one day. One day… night, really….I will be using my boy. He will be on his back, and I will be atop of him, taking my pleasure, and another will be using him mouth to take their pleasure too. My boy will be in service to me, never forgetting the hierarchy of whom he belongs, but servicing us both.

It begins to feel different when fantasy begins to become reality. I am a fairly monogamous person by nature, and I do not wish to change that. My love is for my boy. But that doesn’t mean that training and intimacies with others won’t take place. We have the opportunity to make the private whisperings of sexual utopias real, and I think that makes us lucky.

And so the careful search begins. I will not settle for less than what I want. The right person is out there…..I feel certain of this. It’s just a matter of finding them.



Let me just clarify the living situation to make things clear. We moved at the end of August into a new place. Owned by $ROOMMATE1, already occupied by her and $ROOMMATE2, Mistress and I moved in. We painted the bedroom, had carpet installed, set up our space in the smallest bedroom and are part of the house. $ROOMMATE1 is the owner of the house and plans to sell in the spring. She had shitty tenants last year and is thrilled to have us in to watch the house while she works out of country through the winter. $ROOMMATE2 will be leaving for work out of country this winter as well, leaving us alone together in the house.

IMG_9856 $ROOMMATE1 has left already leaving just the three adults in the house. Mistress has ramped up the BDSM side of our relationship already. After my weekend away from the house, I returned to a Mistress who was not just missing me, but very hungry, as hungry as I was after 18 days of no ejaculating. We fucked hard. I was able to keep up with her and give her the exact fucking she needed. It was hard at times, hard enough to keep her from being able to speak. And yet, she took me into her and used me. In the end, it was she who took me into her, used my cock for her pleasure, had a thunderous orgasm and let me be, still hard, still pulsing and filling her beautiful pussy with my hard cock, I fell asleep while inside her, until she finally ended up turning to her side and sliding me out of her.

And last night, she used the crop on me, she also used me again, teased me, rode me, put me to bed without relief and then woke me again in the morning this morning by pulling my collar and leading me to the edge of the bed where her ass and pussy awaited my oral attentions. She used me again, riding her cock, filling her up, giving her pleasure and then she slid off of me, got dressed for her day while I held a pillow close to me, wondering if I dreamed the whole thing in the tIMG_9765wilight of my evening’s sleep. I knew it was real when I woke and smelled her on my face.

It’s been only a few days since the roommate count was cut in half and she has really ramped up her demands. Even tonight, with just a couple family guests, I received a text from her upset that I didn’t offer to her to make a cocktail, while I, myself held a cocktail in my hand. She is right. I didn’t interrupt her conversation to ask and for that I deserve correction.

It’s been a short time, but I look forward to serving her further, serving her more deeply, being her boy… her dog. I hope to post more and give more information about it all

This week hasn’t been great due to some family issues, but her dog is being put in his place and he welcomes it.

Sit down!

Various blog entries made me look up something I read recently on the topic of men sitting down to pee. An article on discussed the growing trend in men sitting to pee. The lead in the article is that a court in Germany verified the right of men to urinate standing up if they choose. The article then discusses the growth in men that do choose to sit to pee and cites various reasons from feminism, public health, personal health and a rise in toilet associations.

Strikingly* absent from the article was any consideration for the great surge in sales of various chastity devices. You know that when you have to worry about cloned chastity devices from China, there’s SOME kind of great rise in men getting their junk locked up. Now, I know some chastity devices allow men to urinate while standing but I would hazard a guess that most locked men will find themselves sitting for two reasons: spray and ‘assuming the position’. Few of the devices really allow free pee, so there’s always a risk of urine splashing on ones pants or shorts. Sure, there IS a plus of having the metal recognized by a bystander standing at a urinal, leading to the inevitable conversation that might be started. (This mirrors a recent post by Terri about Clock and Collar’s post where he is required to admit his chastity to strangers).

And then there’s the multi faceted question of sitting down because it’s:

  • submissive
  • feminine
  • demeaning
  • “What she orders”

Sure, one person’s demeaning is another person’s offensive gesture. That’s okay, kink your own kink.

mens room

Sit or stand – the option

Still, back to the major idea – that more dicks are actually locked up and that also pushes men to be sitting while they pee. The article doesn’t address that.

And perhaps there could have been recognition that, even without chastity, there are more men submitting to women and being told to sit down to pee at home and abroad. Myself, living in a house with three women and myself being mostly submissive, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve stood before the throne in order to unleash the doctor’s uncollected golden sample. Primarily, I sit all of the time. Yes, there’s a measure of my doing so to be able to say “I don’t know who pee’d terribly and made a mess, but it wasn’t me!” but there’s another part of me that respects the women in the house who don’t want to see that kind of spray and mess and, well, I’d like to think that my roommates secretly would be happy to know that the man in the house submissively sits for THEIR comfort and cleanliness. But I have no evidence that they know I’m doing it for that reason. That’s probably better all around at this point.

*Not quite strikingly as I bet the vast majority of vice readers do not, in fact, consider male chastity as a headline story.