What about that?

“So, what are your feeling on that? Do you want to? What about that?”

That’s what she asked this week while we were packing for camp. Our foray into the shared lives of 1000 kinky people and I haven’t come for over 100 days and this is what she asks me.

And I am not entirely sure I can do justice to my reply. It was a weak reply, I think, because I haven’t really have so much I could say, but time wasn’t on our side when she asked. And so, I decided I’d write about it. What is it? This question:

“Do you want to cum?”

Yes, Ma’am, I do. I don’t want to be in that fantasy world of “You’ll never come again! Mwahahahahahaahaha!” fantasy femdom. Nope. No thanks.

“Do you want to cum at camp?”

Well, okay, that’s different. Want? Erm, maybe.


So, here’s the thing. You’ve kept me from cumming for over three months. We’re certainly beyond casual denial. And here’s the biggest thing about that. I really do think that you really do enjoy denying me. When I practically shout out “STOP!” as you’re teasing me, you smile. You smirk. And then 20 seconds later you’re stroking your cock again and making me scream “STOP!” again. And you know that I don’t fake it. When I scream stop I mean it and you do. And that’s fortunate. Because…

I am perfectly fine with you owning my cumming. I leak, because, well, biology and we’re not going to stop having sex altogether. That’s not going to happen. And yet, you like teasing and tormenting me and I’m happy you like that. It fits us both well. I like the occasional tantric style orgasms I get. Thanks for those. They’re really amazing. Thanks for letting me. I don’t think you want to deny me pleasure – you just want to take away this whole “cumming” part of it.

I’m at the point in my mind where I can say “three months? Okay, well, you own it, it’s yours…” and really, it is. I’ve accepted that it’s yours and I want it to be yours. Please keep hold of it. Use it when you want to. Or don’t. It’s yours. But I just can’t be ignored – so there’s THAT on you. Denial by ignoring me won’t fly.

And then, also, there’s the idea of my weighing less than 200# by camp. I called it “starts with 1” and it was a goal, but I can’t imagine I’ll get there. After all, we leave Saturday and the Wednesday weigh in was still a few pounds shy of the goal. I ‘m not sure that I can make another 3.5 pounds before camp starts. Anyone that reads this might even suggest that were I to make that, it would be an unhealthy weight loss. I’d agree there’s a hazard there.

If we played the weight goal story line, you’d have a great reason to deny me at camp. “Oh, he’s a good boy, but he failed his goal, so we’re just going to tease him all week. He’ll go home with a tan, a locked cock and still his balls full of cum… but he missed the goal… ” I can play that one.

And then there’s the idea of the “Well, almost…” and I’m not sure Chloe knows of this part of chastity and denial fantasy land of mine. But the idea of a ruined orgasm isn’t something I’m sure she’s aware of. And I could easily see her finding out in detail, talking to people at camp and getting me well worked up and giving me an epic ruined orgasm. “Well, I hear that’s a ruined orgasm, did I do it right? ” she might smile. And I know she would. And I’d still be frustrated as all hell.

And then there’s the idea of actually joining with her, perhaps with the toy in our family doing something with us. But I’d be in her, we’d be fucking, and she’d let me cum. Finally, after over 100 days, she would finally say “yes” and I’d cum. And it’d be a long loud cum with lots of mess. And she’d make me (or me and her toy?) clean up after myself. But I want myself to spill without having to clean it up after – in whatever way she might make it happen.


The bottom line on all of this is that yes, she owns my orgasms and ejaculations and I’m 100% okay with how she wants them to work out. And I would not think I would have a bad camp if I didn’t cum. Cumming is so very beyond where I’ve gone and where I am. It’s a beautiful and very fun part of our sex life, but it’s certainly not the end all be all of male sexuality. No, I’m very far past that belief by now.

I see both Chloe and I growing in our roles in this lifestyle. She coming more comfortable with her dominant self and I in my submissive self. And we’ve worked out good roles between us. And it seems to be working. I know that being the dominant in a relationship is not without it’s efforts. I don’t like to pressure her for certain things. And I know she respects my opinion, but I think we’ve both gotten into a level of our FLR that my opinion on ejaculating no longer matters. If I’m to be owned, this is one part of my life, like so many, where she should feel free to own it, dictate it, and decide whether it happens or not.

Madame, I thank you for asking me what I think about this. But you’ve kept me denied for this long and it is absolutely your call on whether or not I ejaculate. What I want out of our camp experience is fun and joy and beautiful naked time and fucking. And some play with our toybags too. But I want pleasure for all of us involved. And however you take that pleasure, well, I’ll be there to help in any way I can.

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.


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.

Wheee, Christmas time, sort of

So, we’ve all been so busy with Christmas preparation and all, but today it looks like I’m actually off from work for Christmas Eve (hoping that cow-orkers don’t make errors that call me in… ) and home puttering and dealing while Madame is off at HER job, wrapping up her week.

This morning Madame was very generous in her using me as I woke from my slumber, but there was a slight problem. See, I got a little too excited and on one of her slight downstrokes, I was pushed clean over the edge and soon found my cock pulsing, spilling, deep inside her. And this was completely unplanned. My submissive person, pup, still feels horrible about it. Madame is still pissed off and rightfully so. My face is still sore from her smacking me, deservedly so.

Our more personal selves, our Chloe and John, are okay with each other, but John still is upset. It’s a frustration that when I haven’t come in some time, I’ll spill like that, not on purpose, but accidental, and I get frustrated with it. I won’t let it get the best of me, however, and will go through the week end with as much joy as I can. But having that edge taken off is… well… frustrating. Nonetheless, Chloe and I will have a wonderful Christmas together.

According to Chloe, a big beautiful orgasm was going to be my Christmas present in the morning, but I’m unsure where she will go with that now, given that the wrapping paper has all been pulled off that gift.


Sometimes, it feels exactly like this. I am set up, I am ready, I run toward the goal and whoosh! The ball is gone!

Charlie Brown and Lucy

Charlie Brown and Lucy

Of course, I’m talking about her denial of me. Last night after our time with T, she headed out to another meetup (vanilla), then came back and after a little bit of TV, we found ourselves in the tangled web of the beast with two backs. She was very enthused with her fucking, taking me in quickly and really enjoying it from the get go. Usually she takes more time to warm up. But last night, she was raring to go (no doubt the two naked men in the kitchen and the spanking helped!). Soon enough I felt her grabbing at me from within, her body shaking, her cries of orgasm freely floating through the air and occasionally her admonition to “press, press” – meaning I should just press my cock into her so her pussy can grab at it. Her orgasm stimulated my own, pushing me from a very aroused state up toward orgasm very quickly. I begged her. I beseeched her. I was almost crying in my desire and she very tersely and cruelly said “No. I’m DONE!” and she rolled over onto her left side, dislodging me from within her soaking wet pussy and leaving me struggling, so close to cumming. I whimpered, as a dog might do, for the treat that was so close. But she had made her decision. In no uncertain terms, she was denying me. She teased me a little with the idea of “There might have been a chance to cum with me, but that’s past. I’m done with you, fucktoy.” And yet, even with that measure of humiliation I still imagined her saying “If you’re that horny, you can lick my ass.” but even that didn’t come – just the admonition to stop humping at her and to relax.

Relax? How could I relax? We just had another man in the house, both of us naked and making dinner. She spanked another man while I did the dishes and I knew, without a doubt, that the moment that HE got the chance he was whipping it out and jerking off. I’m so entirely sure of it. She had left him with no orders for abstention, so I’m sure he took full advantage. And yet, here I was, giving her great pleasure and having served so well… and I am denied. And I was jealous. Absolutely. I knew I was jealous.

Pulsing cock

Pulsing cock is teased

And I know it was exactly what I want. And yet it wasn’t. I really DID want to cum. I could feel it. I could imagine it. I could taste it. And yet she left me without that release. And I thank her for it. And yet I would have so loved to cum too. Damned dichotomy of wanting exactly what I’m getting!

And this morning, there was more teasing as well. She climbed into bed with me and found a hard cock. This was not unusual, since I was stroking the cock while I was dozing in bed before getting up. She had good timing. And yet, she just teased me more. About a half dozen times to the edge and then some pain to wake me up instead of leaving me drowsy.

And here’s the biggest part of the post, I think. She really does enjoy it. She actually honestly enjoys taking her pleasure and then denying me. She enjoys rolling over after she cums and going to bed. She enjoys feeling my throbbing cock up against her thighs and ass, even maybe some dripping on her flesh. And I’m sure she’s smiling her way to sleep. And she’s becoming sadistic about it too, very much so. She does it not just to take her own pleasure, but to torture me.

I am one frustrated and dripping dog. She knows how to quickly build up the pressure again. And she knows how much I love it at the same time I dread it. And she just keeps doing it. I love her, that sadistic, beautiful torturing bitch that she is. ;)


As I’ve written before, I’ve practiced how to achieve orgasm without ejaculation and have had some success, but not enough practice has been done. Still, twice in the past week, I’ve been able to experience at least one really good orgasm and one tentative and gentle orgasm just through Madame’s squeezing of my cock and balls, mostly the balls. Other stimuli was there as well, but it was a great thing to experience. I’ve also been able to provide her with two wonderful orgasms over the past week while inside her and managed not to cum inside her… so there’s some major happy happening on both sides of the bed.

It’s like having perfect sex

“Perfect sex.”

Madame and I were in the confines of the comfy bed beneath the sea of blankets and I was rubbing her back, pressing into her back with stiff fingers and she said “no, don’t stop. It’s like having perfect sex”

Perfect gift

This led to the dog inquiring to the Mistress what she thought perfect sex was. The big takeaway from her was that perfect sex is variable based on her mood, attitude, etc. I agree. Perfect sex for my dominant side if  far different than me in my submissive side. There’s also a difference between perfect sex with my primary partner (Chloe) and any other partner I might have. So, at its essence, asking what is “perfect sex” is completely conditional.

I suppose this is not unlike the question of “What is quality” and if we were to go completely Robert Pirsig on this, we’d get in pretty deep, pretty quick. It’s completely subjective.

Given my position at the time the question came up, submissive and well within her influence as my dominant partner, my perfect sex was something to the effect of…

Being completely capable and able to fuck her as hard and as deeply as she wants, without having to stop because I get too close to orgasm. My perfect ideal of this starts with us in a missionary position and moves to us in our very luxurious and, I think, favorite position of ours, her laying back, me almost perpendicular to her on my side and our legs intertwined (I’ve searched for this and can’t find an image to share) where she can touch herself and make herself cum while I fuck her. She has a beautiful cum after she uses me and then she rolls over, I spoon her, I touch her breast and she falls asleep.

This is simply one version of what “perfect” might be. And it’s certainly a version where me as the submissive would feel things being perfect. Providing my Mistress a beautiful orgasm while she uses me as her toy, which I am, and she concludes the interaction. I have served my purpose, served my Mistress and that… that’s some measure of perfection to me.

Plateau, plateau everywhere!

For some time, I have been pursuing the oft elusive but highly desirable multi-orgasmic, non-ejaculating orgasm. I’ve had times in the past where I rode the crest of an orgasm lasting minutes. There has also been a time when, while performing oral sex, I’ve had an orgasm without ejaculating. Let’s just define this now that ‘orgasm’ means an orgasm without my ejaculating. ‘Ejaculating’ will mean a nice big spurty mess of goo.

Nothing but plateau as far as the eyes can see.

Nothing but plateau as far as the eyes can see.

Unfortunately, I haven’t studied and practiced enough to be able to do it all the time. Fortunately, I haven’t studied and practiced enough to be able to do it all the time. Let me explain.  Continue reading