Laying in bed last night, I asked my boy about what he thought I should blog about this morning. I felt out of content. It’s deep January, our northern world is covered in ice and white walkers, and our daily routines are pretty predictable. No public play, no naked outdoor frolicking, and as it is this time of year, I am in bed most nights by 9pm. This hardly is enough fodder for one good post, let alone a season’s worth.

My boy, being the good one he is, threw out a couple of ideas. He offered, “Blog about my daily rituals” and we proceeded to alternate listing them out loud to one another. The more we talked about it, the more I liked it. Conception bullseye.

Rituals. I simply like the sound of the word.

His day starts with making the bed. Picking up discarded clothing. I do love the sound and image of him removing the panty line from my undergarments. I always think this is quite sexy…gives me a wicked smile every time. Sometimes I’ll catch him holding my panties to his nose. I can’t suppress the grin.

Then, there is the offering to either make or share breakfast, which is a hit or miss thing, but the offer must be there.

He warms up my car this time of year, scraping it if need be.

He is to fill the bird feeder outside our window. I do love those little, fragile, chirruping things!

During the day, he is to send me porn. I do not do this in return, but I do love getting his. Those images inspire me and feed me. So, yeah, it is an important part of my day. I also like this because I can tell how ‘hungry’ he is by what he sends me, both in content and volume. It’s a great way to take his pulse. :-)

He doesn’t cook dinner much, mostly because we have a housemate who loves to do it, and I will take a swing at it a couple of times a week. But he’ll do the dishes every night. And as we know from a recent post, he is not allowed to eat or drink until I have been offered ‘first bite/last sip’.

Other routines: He is to turn on the bed when he gets home from work. It’s heated this time of year. He is still learning to remember this one. He might need a painful reminder….it’s that ‘seasonal adjustment disorder’ thingy.

He offers to make me a cocktail each night. We need a break from this, it’s a good time of year to dry out a bit, damnit. So far, we are failing pretty miserably.

Without exception, he is to empty the dish drain every night and prep the coffee before bed. I dislike waiting up to a cluttered, messy kitchen, and since I am always the first one up, this is law.

Massage_black_and_white_with_handsWhen bedtime arrives, it goes one of two ways; he either comes to bed with me for the night, or he will tuck me in and then get back up and stay up later than me. But either way, he will prep the bed (which involves taking away a mountain of pillows, because actually sleeping with 6 is enough) and he will tuck me in. He then performs his nightly ritual of worship and cleaning. Yes, both of those things. His face, mouth and tongue buried deep into my dark places. I am going to write more about this specific ritual in the very near future.  It deserves a post all on its own.

When that worshiping is completed, and he emerges with a smile and a pink nose (such a cute dog!!!), he will lay next to me and pet me to sleep. I don’t know if it can be comprehended on how lovely this is for me. We have written before about the mind and body connections that are unique to us and our relationship. For example, john’s body has trained itself to respond to mornings, even if he is fast asleep, because his knows that this is the time of day I am most apt to torture it. His body will hear me rustling quietly in the bedroom, and it will respond, sensing that likely, I am taking aim at it. I have this mind/body connection going on too, but in different ways and places.

My body is convinced that john’s hands are magic. And they are. He knows exactly how and where I like to be petted. Petting is an absolute must and is up there with breathing, eating, drinking. He is to pet me on my naked back, open hand, concentrating on either upper or lower parts. I will lay on my stomach next to him . My right arm either dangles off the side of the bed, or is up around my head, and my left arm is tucked against my side, sandwiched tightly between our bodies. My palm faces up, and he knows that he is to place is ball sac in my open hand. It’s the perfect fit for us. I hold and cup him there, mostly being gentle. Sometimes he’ll get sleepy as he pets me and I will need to give him a torturous squeeze or three, which seems to work quiet well in reinvigorating his interest and enthusiasm. and he’ll start to pet me, again. Usually, within moments, I feel my mind go soft, I feel my body sink and then it’s lights out. I always try to pinpoint the exact moment I fade to black, but never can. But wow….it is the most lovely of descents.

Age has changed my sleeping patterns. I will often wake once in the night, usually between 2am-4am. I am one of those types where I wake easily and quickly. If I wake, it’s a struggle to get back to sleep for me. But here too he will work his magic, gathering me in his sleepy arms, pressing me against him and we snap together like lego’s. He never gets impatient or cranky with me for my bouts of restlessness. He knows I don’t like the biological changes and he soothes me. I appreciate this about him more than any words could ever describe. His magic works nearly every time. I am soothed, my body knows his touch, it’s therapeutic to me. Did I mention it’s magical?

All of john’s rituals are important. Most speak to my comfort and ease. They speak to him too, but I will ask him to write about this on his own. We take and gather different things from these rituals. Magic is often found in the most unexpected of places. Rituals is a good place to start looking.




“Come on home, girl” he said with a smile “I cast my spell of love on you a woman from a child”. But try to understand, try to understand, oh try try try to understand…..he’s a magic man”…he got the magic hands.



Tight Ends


Football fun! The kinky version of “Family Feud”, newly coined “Submissives Feud”.


Watching football while at a kinky event with kinky friends as well as kinky hotel roommates leads to….well….kinky goodness.

Yes, we were at an event this past weekend. Yes, it was a hotel stay. The where and what won’t be discussed here, but I will say it was an excellent event, one we have been to before, just not in a while. We met our good friends there, Ms. J and her boy, lucky. I’ve written about them before. We decided it would be most fun to share one room with two big beds since we have all played together. This is not to be confused with swinging, for that is not what we do and not what we did. But certainly, we shared playful naked, D/s laden, protocol filled weekend together.  So much I could write about, but for now, I will concentrate on football since we ARE in New England, and we DO root for the Patriots, and it WAS a playoff weekend.

So, instead of joining a big, kinky party Saturday night, we made our own party in the hotel room. Four quarters make for the game, and there were four of us. Perfect.

Ms. J and I decided that each of us would have a quarter, and for that quarter of the game, we could each individualize our own set of rules/games to be played. All of us chose something unique and fun. I’ll write about mine. Here was the game we played based on my rules:

I googled a trivia game. I actually searched for “football trivia for kids” and found a great trivia questionnaire. It was perfect for the range of football knowledge that had amassed in our room. I made john and lucky kneel in front of a bench. On that bench before each male contestant was large dildo. Larger than they could comfortably swallow.

The objective was this: I would read a trivia question, confirm the stakes and whomever knew the answer had to deep throat the cock to the best of their ability. Think ‘Family Feud’, only instead of buzzers to hit, there were cocks to swallow. If they both swallowed cock, then whomever swallowed deepest won. I would start by reading the ‘prize’, then read a trivia question, and then watch one or both heads slam into the cocks, mouths wide open, gagging sounds shortly thereafter. Here is an example:

“This question is good for 5 cane strokes. If you swallow first and win the round, you can either keep the cane strokes for yourself or give them to your opponent. Ready? Here is your question:

Which of these teams is NOT a team in the National Football League?
  • Detroit Lions
  • San Diego Chargers
  • Green Bay Packers
  • Chicago Bulls”

And so it went. Round and round.  Different questions each time. I am not entirely sure how many trivial questions I ended up asking, but I CAN tell you that a 15 minute quarter is not a 15 minute quarter.

Oh my god, the laughter!! The silliness! The playful arguing, cheating, bribing, whining, begging. It was all fun and games, and only a few got hurt. :-)

The quarter ended, and then someone else presented their game for the next round. I will say this: I got caned. I got spanked. No one was unscathed. No matter who’s turn it was, we laughed until we cried. We cried until we laughed. We spent 3 solid hours in that room, and all of agreed that we have never had a better time watching football, and never quite like this.

I can only imagine what a Superbowl would bring, if we make it that far (Go Pats!).

It certainly got me thinking about baseball. I love that game too. And to think….. 9 innings of tortured glory! Oh my….the possibilities!



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.




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.