Down boy…

Busy Sunday. Lots of errands, lots of work. Project here, project there. They bounce off each other all day, taking moments when they can.

He walks into the bedroom.

“Kneel. Here.” She points to the floor at the foot of the bed. He kneels. He wears a bandana, shirt, jeans and her panties, but she doesn’t know about the last part.

She steps to the foot of the bed, bends over to lay her torso on it and simultaneously pushes her pants and panties down.

“Kiss my ass, boy.” He does. Reverently placing kiss after kiss on both her cheeks. His hands hold her hips, then slide up under her sweatshirt and caress her breasts.

“Clean me.” His tongue now into action, he presses it into her pussy, lapping at her. Some sweat, some piss, just the days worth of woman that is on her.

“Deeper.” He pushes deeper, his nose buried, his breathing stopped while he delves deep.

“Now up…” He pulls back from her and asks her to repeat, it’s hard to hear when one’s face is deep in a pussy. “My ass pup, clean.” He utters a brief acknowledgement and settles in between her cheeks to clean. She’s never that dirty but he knows it’s her. He knows he’s cleaning her in a most intimate way.

Again he hears “Deeper” and he pushes his tongue in deeply, again his breathing paused while he delves in deep, gently fucking her hole with his tongue. He tips his head up, letting his nose get a breath of air into him and returns to the task. A belt must have been on the bed, or in her hands, and now it’s pulling at the back of his neck, pulling him deeply into her, deeper still. His tongue and jaw hurt. She pulls hard, pushing back against him, smothering him. He sputters out air but gets none in. She tortures him like this for just a few seconds, but when one doesn’t receive new oxygen, seconds have a more noticeable duration.

She releases him. He falls back on his haunches, still touching her hips. He holds himself by holding her. Relieved for the air, he moves to continue where he left off, but she tells him “Stay” as she stands, straightens herself and pulls up her clothes. He starts to get up and she stops him. “No, pup. Stay. Stay kneeling right there until I leave the room and that cock stops sticking out so obviously.”

He does just that, waiting for his cock to soften, he inhales her scent and smiles. Lucky dog.

On service

Last night, there were a few things that I needed to do before I could go to bed, but Madame had promptly rolled over to her side of the bed and was moving toward sleep before I was ready.

I did the dishes in the sink, whether or not they were ours. Then I pulled the laundry from the basement and proceeded to fold it. Then I put the clean dishes away, as Madame doesn’t like a full drainboard when she wakes up. I also prepped the coffee machine in there somewhere, so Madame had to simply press the button when she woke.

She did make some inquiry to me in which I responded I was just “doing the things” – and she knew that I was folding laundry, but she was likely in the dark about the other things I was doing. Sometimes I do those things after I pet her to sleep, but with her coughing and the cold, I wasn’t sure when she’d get to sleep, thus when I’d get a chance to work on them.

Man washing dishes naked at the sink

Man washing dishes naked at the sink

Sometimes I struggle with this side of service. And I think it’s related to how I desire feedback in many of the things I do. With my work with kink events, work in community volunteering, the day job and in my service to Mistress, I do need positive feedback. I know that. I can work a good long 16 hour shift setting up kink camp, but if someone there doesn’t acknowledge me specifically in some way and my work, I can tend to get cranky. And at work, if I help someone with their project and I don’t get my proper credit (I do work in an industry where credits are similar to movie credits – it might not be much, but they’re expected) I get cranky over that. And when I’ve been working to better our home and serving Madame, I absolutely crave and love her acknowledging my work. Even if it’s just a scratch behind the ears while she tells me that she noticed I did X, Y or Z – that goes a long long way.

But I’m not sure last night’s tepidness over doing the chores was a credit issue or whether it was just a kind of malaise. I’m stuck thinking about what it was. I could dismiss it as just being something related to our both being sick. That might be perfectly valid. We’ve been sick, not sleeping well and we’re tired. She has been working extra hard at the office and really just wants a couple days off. She is in a place I was at months ago, wherein I put in several very long and underappreciated weeks. I also expect that, sometime when I do get to see her, I’ll hear from her that she appreciated the work I did. She’s always good at that. In fact, this morning, before she left for work, she addressed me as slave, which is not insulting to me, but endearing. Usually I’m “pup”, but slave is less used. And I appreciated hearing it.

Of course, much of this is moot, as one of the roommates came home and ended up making shots, so the counter is a mess, the bar is a mess and it looks like I didn’t really do anything in the kitchen. *shrug* Such is the way of communal living sometimes.

So, I’m a little stuck in how I’m managing some of the service, the unseen service. But it really does need to be done, so it’s getting done.

Of course, it could also be my mind trying to trick me into not liking this service just because I haven’t cum in a few weeks and I think cumming should be some kind of reward. But then where’s the fun in that?

I think I’m going to write this all off as being infected by this cold and see where I can go from there. But while making tags for this post, I did give myself a little more idea of where to go on posting – so that’s certainly of benefit.

Broader service

I find myself not just serving my Mistress and partner, but looking at some other things I do as service to others. And I know that some of those things are also easily classified as “being a decent human being (DHB)”. Especially around the holidays, I like to share the joy that I get from the holidays. And if that means letting a car out in front of me or sharing one of the random gifts from the gift bag or whether it’s picking up the roommates coffee mug that they forgot and washing it, well, those are all service. And, they’re all being a DHB.

So where does one draw the line between DHB and service? I’m not sure we need a line there. And sure, that’s a hell of an easy answer (cop-out!) for such a question. But really, why? I can do my service to others as a DHB and let it reflect on my own self as a submissive male that wants to share joy with others. And if that’s what it takes to make me be more decent, well, I’m okay with that and I think the world is better for that.

At work, we did a project that talked about giving, where we interviewed several people and ask them what it was about giving that made them want to give. To a person, there was a motive they expressed that could easily be seen as “selfish” in a different light. That they would see happiness on other people’s faces, that they were making the world a better place (better world, better for all, including the giver), that they received joy back from their giving. Every single person remarked on what they get back from giving to others. And giving is just like service to me. So we all seem to have some motivation that could be seen as selfish, but only in certain light.

So, I’ll continue on being more of a DHB. And if I call it service, well, okay. For me, maybe that’s what I need. Is it selfish? Maybe. It makes me feel good, particularly when I reflect on it. And that just might be selfish. But I think it makes other people feel good, so that’s giving, right?

Well, I’ll keep on. And I hope, as I have some time off from work, which I hope STAYS time off, that I’ll be able to write more in the blog. Hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday season, despite the stresses involved. Merry Christmas folks!

Soft words

I am at times struck by how just a few softly spoken words can influence me. It happens all the time in my world. From the gentle (but rare) acknowledgment of a job well done at the office to a thank you for my volunteer efforts to the more personal words of my Mistress.

She will utter words that can easily sway where I am and what I’m thinking. Tonight it was just a few words which thrilled me to no end.

I was disrobing her by the closet, kneeling before her, helping her remove shirt, pajamas, panties, socks and she was faced away from me at the end – in the moment she became naked. I kissed her cheeks and tried to nuzzle my way in between her cheeks, but with her standing, I had a difficult time getting in to find her tiny tender spot between her cheeks. “Find it” she whispered hoarsely. “Find it pup!”

I am not sure if she realizes it, but when I was in the world of ski areas, the rescue dogs were trained to the words of “Find ’em!” when they were out looking for lost skiers – or drilling for the same. So her, my Mistress and owner, telling her pup to “Find it!” hit home to an older part of my timeline. I don’t think she knows that part.

She leaned forward slightly, opening herself up to my tongue, which soon found it’s mark and make shallow attempts at touching and cleaning their mark. “Deeper” she exhorted. “Get it in there deeper” My cock swelled quickly. Her hand reached behind her, grabbed my hair, pulled me into her ass and I did, indeed, get my tongue deeper. She did, indeed, need a cleaning before bed, and I think she knew that. She brought me to the place where she knows I enjoy things, left my cock to pulse and throb, all on its own, completely untouched.

Eventually, my cock subsided while I rubbed her back in bed. I’m not even sure she knew I was so erect, as she was simply too tired to be concerned about anything related to my pleasure or discomfort. I pet her to sleep, I withdrew from the room, I felt the wet spot left behind from my earlier arousal. And now, I’m wrapping gifts and getting us all ready for Christmas.

Busy times, but we make the time to have some joy.

Another awakening

The other morning, she woke me differently. Drowsy, I felt her hands on my cock. Then her finger on my asshole. Soon a towel was put under my hips. Her finger delved deeper. Something else was being pushed deeper. There was a plug of some sort in my bottom.

“I know you’re full down there… but I wanted to reward you for last night.”

Last night, I had a tough time of it, feeling frustrated, but I channeled it into serving her. Instead of remaining frustrated, I moved to her feet, applied more lotion to them, as she had earlier commented that her feet were dry. Naked, I knelt at the bedside and applied her lotion, kissed her feet and returned to bed. This was a victory in my turning my frustration into service to stem the tide, and it was good for both of us.

“Keep that plug in until you come see me in the bathroom and ask permission to remove it.”

She went to dry her hair, I followed soon thereafter, as I WAS very full down there and something was going to happen soon, whether either of us liked it or not!

Awakened

The other morning, she woke me easily, but not too slowly. First I found her ass cheeks near my face as she pulled me into her, I kissed her there. She pulled me deeper, I licked her. She straddled my face, I licked her pussy now. She pulled back, but was still close, I inhaled her scent deeply, my cock throbbed. Her pee slowly entered my mouth. Surprised, I gulped it down as quickly as I could, not knowing how much would be coming.

When she was done, she pulled my tongue back into her pussy and had me lick her clean.

She stepped away.

She handed me a mug of coffee. I sipped. I smiled. She smiled.

“Good morning” she said.

“Indeed, good morning. Did you do something with the coffee today?”

Back home

Despite a small flotilla of first world problems pushing against me, I’ve made it back to Madame and even made it for last night’s party. T put out a beautiful spread of nosh-able food and we had lots of white wine and some other drinks as well. It was an excellent time – a good welcoming back home. There was even a kilt check from a vanilla friend involved – which caused some significant chuckling at my expense, but no embarrassment to me. (After all, I’d serve naked if I could!)

Chloe and I retreated to the bedroom soon after returning home where we cuddled, talked, groped, made out, fooled around and then she got ready for bed, leaving me to undress her while she put herself onto her side of the bed. I ended up kneeling between the wall and the bed with my tongue strategically located to lap at her beautiful pussy. She loved feeling the long broad strokes of my tongue and I think her favorite part of that was while she was beating me with my own collar by flipping it down and whipping my back, I would cry out into her pussy, muffling my near screams between her legs. It was more intense than I expected, but we soon found ourselves together in bed again, my face now awash in the scent of her.

I rubbed her body, worked a knot out of her upper back and massaged her gently from my side of the bed. Soon she let me know it was time for my evening devotional and my tongue was between her cheeks, my hands on her bottom and thighs and I was doing those lovely things that good dogs do for their Mistresses. We soon tumbled into some lovely fucking with which I could not keep up with, so I deployed our favorite fake cock to finish up and let her grab tightly at it while she had a big beautiful orgasm, grasping at the copper colored cock while my cock, hard and frustrated, pretended it was in her as I thrust my hips uselessly toward her. Soon the copper colored cock was out of her, in my mouth and my cock was inside her again, such a lovely lovely place to be. So tight now after her cumming and without having been fucked in weeks, it grasped at me wonderfully and I gently and easily moved in and out of her… a lovely little enjoyable fucking from which I knew there would be no relief for me. We are now 173 days into my denial and there are signs she may be ready to write another chapter in this story, but until then, she enjoys watching me struggle with resisting cumming.

We slept well and in the late night potty break that often happens after a wine and nosh party, we fucked again, then fell back to sleep together. I awoke, my leash wrapped around my neck but still attached to my collar. I got up, made the bed still collared and leashed, then removed my collar, tucked it under the pillow where it belong, coiled her leash, put on my glasses and greeted the rest of our little home as I reached for the cup of coffee.

Vacations are nice, but it’s very good to be home and back in the place where I belong.

An open letter to My boys

My dearest john, My lovely troy-

Lovely ladies from under the tableI am deeply aware of how chaotic our summer has been. Normal, I suppose, as it seems that the short summer season of New England tends to have many things packed into a few lovely months. We are used to this, I know, and we accept it. But it still can be hard to feel September nipping at our heels, knowing that we have not had enough opportunity to play naked in the woods, to swim in the moonlight, to tangle in the middle of hot summer nights.

I think we agree that we do the best we can. I feel great confidence and pride in us! I am fully aware of how many people are out there in the world seeking meaningful, kinky partnerships, and I feel lucky to have the dynamics that we do. We may not get to play as often as we’d like, but every week, and every day, we have some connection to our kink, and this makes Me happy.

I continue to find little opportunities to let you shine in your service to me. Sometimes there are big ones and sometimes there are the small ones. John wrote about that yesterday… the small and overt ways he demonstrates his service to his world. Troy has been demonstrating this daily with his checking in with me while John is away, with his little displays of affection and devotion. None of it is missed by Me.

But it’s the more public displays of service that make us all especially happy. When I can show you off and watch you shine.

Another opportunity has arisen, boys, and despite how busy we are, I am going to ask you to do what you can in the name and spirit of that service. Service to Me, and the events I hold dear.

You’ve done this before, the two of you. You have answered the call when I have asked you to perform, and you have done it wonderfully.

You are being called upon again. Will you be available? Are you able to serve me and a tribe of sexy women as we gather to sip wine and socialize? Will you be able to bestow upon us your culinary delights, and leave with us a sampling of your labors??

2016 - 0919

The stunning nosh that troy provided during our last sexy ladies gathering. Unfortunately not photographed….the amazing cocktails by john.

Our lovely lady friend Miss C is again hosting a gathering this Friday night at 5pm. There will be several women in attendance. Men will be permitted after 6:30pm.

Not knowing if either of you were available, I asked Miss C that if one or both of you were able to contribute either specialty cocktails or gourmet nosh, would she want what of you? Her sexy voice got sexier as she gushed, “Oh my gosh, YESSSS, of course”.  She proceeded to add that it was not expected, that there was no pressure, but that of course she would love it if you wanted to give such offerings.

I thought about that.., the part where she said ‘if they want to’. My mind flashed (while my mouth remained quiet) that it was not so much a matter of if they ‘wanted to’, but rather if they are able to. It truly does not matter to Me that on occasion I ask your service because I selfishly want your service. Most times, I try to create opportunities that I know you’ll enjoy. But sometimes, I don’t. This is one of those times.

I would love it dearly if you were able to make a contribution to the evening with the gift of your skills. I would delight in knowing that you were able to give to us in this way. If you are able to join us around 6:30pm, your presence is greatly desired by all. I don’t know what scheduling conflicts might interfere with this, but I am putting it in front of you so that you have time to decide. Will you be able to toil in some way for us?

It is not the quantity of things you provide, but rather the quality. You both are wonderful at detail – it is one of your greatest gifts. I smile at the thought of the efforts you have shown in the past. It makes me proud.

So, there you have it. An opportunity to be in service while in the company of many. You know……and I know….that many women who are invited know of our dynamic. I love this as well. They look at you, wondering where the collar is hidden, wondering how you’ll be rewarded or punished, wondering if your asses are plugged as you serve. Not every woman in attendance will have this inside information, but many will. And that is very much a part of the thrill for Me.

Do let me know. The party will go on without you, of course, but the pleasure of your company and attention is greatly desired. I have not been able to walk the two of you on a leash at the same time in quite a while. It matters not to me that it is a virtual leash in the vanilla company of others. It’s a leash none-the-less. I’m hoping you can be on the end of it.

Do let me know.

Mme.

 

 

 

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Left a hole

It seems that, in my absence from my house and my world, I’ve left a hole. Madame wrote an email this morning that told me how I am missed, how there is a hole where I should be. My subtle ways of serving my vanilla friends, the things I do, they are missed by our large family of friends that is around us.

As we are polite kinky friends, I don’t go around serving my roommates on my hands and knees while collared. But I do wear my shackle 24/7, which is my common collar. I am always the first to rise from the table and start clearing and I usually wrangle most of the dishes, even if I cook I’ll try to clean up until my roommates push me (literally) out of the kitchen. I’m the head bartender in the house, despite one roommate having opened a restaurant/bar and another being a lead bartender with a catering company. And I try to do my part in service to the house to straighten, clean, organize and keep my things to as low a footprint as I can.

I do the things that Madame asks me to, in vanilla ways, in and out of the house. I also am in service to my community with my volunteering. One of those former colleagues of my early service life recently posted a picture of a fortune he received in his cookie to Facebook. It read “If a true sense of value is to be yours, it must come through service”. I didn’t reply to that directly, but I did think of it as very befitting. The only more befitting fortune I have ever received was “You will attend a party where strange customs prevail” shortly before my first kinky party. But the service fortune really lays it out for me. Service is where I am comfortable. I enjoy service. I enjoy serving my friends, family, community and Mistress in so many different ways. I do hope that my community service will pick up a bit this year – that I’ll see some of the fruit of my labors. And even my professional life is found in non-profit companies. When I’ve not been working in non-profit, I worked in higher education and in “Internet Service Providers” back when the internet was newer. Service was our middle name! There have been some brief stints in corporate world, where I tracked my time down to the minute, but that did not suit me. It may have suited my employers, but not me. And I left that world not even looking over my shoulder.

Even in kink, I serve. Sure, I get a comp when I work at setting up and tearing down our camp event, so I’m not entirely volunteering, but I do love the service I do there, especially since I get to do that service sparsely clothed or even in some cases naked!

Service is within me. It’s part of who I am and what makes me whole. It’s good for me to realize that, even if I’m in my mid-forties by now and it’s taken that long for me to realize such a thing. (Okay, I knew it a while ago, but ignored it in pursuit of money)

And knowing that my service and my presence is missed is flattering. It really is. I’m happy in some ways for it, to feel missed. I’m happy Madame wrote me about it, more than just so I can write another post here, but so that I can know that I’m valuable to more than just my Mistress. It’s heartening to know that there are others who desire my presence, because sometimes it really doesn’t feel that way.

Madame, I’ll be home soon. You’ll see me soon. Promise! I miss you and our entire family.

Finding those moments

I am alone these days. More alone than I have been in a while. “Life interuptis” has created this somewhat solitary path, and I walk down it not feeling necessary alone, but very much feeling the absence of my boys. All of us are busy, and all of us are spread out in different and various directions. We accept this. We understand it. We nod to one another, knowing that we will come together again. But in the meantime, each of us are doing what we need to be doing. And part of what we need to be doing is finding those little moments that connect us all.

I left last Wednesday for a trip south to meet up with college friends. I could not have asked for a better set of sun-filled days with outstanding vanilla friends. We stayed at a humble, cozy beach house in Fenwick Island, gathered under clear skies as we lounged in front of big, warm ocean waves.

John, in the meantime, was gone upon my return. He is off on a two week camping/exploring adventure with his boys. I won’t see him for at least 11 more days. That feels like a really big number right now.

And Troy… Troy is busy with work and life. This is the peak of his busy season at work, so I have not wanted to demand too much of him right now, knowing that his plate is as full as it could be.

All of this leaves me without the boys. I am still very involved with family matters, and those matters are pretty much taking up all of my time. I am okay with that. More than okay, really. I am doing the right thing by standing by my family, doing what needs to be done. But what pokes at me is the balance of it all. I feel this urge not to lose my kinky parts in all of this vanilla. It can be so easy to do… to literally watch from my office chair all of the kinky thoughts and ideas slowly drift away because I don’t have the time or inclination to to flirt with them. I have felt this consistent prodding from deep within me to keep the balance. To be all things to all people, but in a good way. It would be easy to fall completely into kink, and it would be natural to focus exclusively on family. I am doing neither.  I am challenged in an inspiring way to do a good job with both.

I loved my time at the beach. My girlfriend Sasha has an amazing husband named Rory. He is a strong willed man with a deeply satisfying submissive streak that runs through him. He would call it being a good host, but I see it a bit differently. I loved the way he brought us tall, sweating glasses of gin and tonics at 6pm as we sat lingering on the near empty beach, not wanting to end the day. I stood back and smiled as he scurried to set up our chairs and umbrellas at the start of each day. At the house, he would postpone his own shower until all of the women had taken theirs. Our glasses were never empty, our bodies sat in the most comfortable chairs, he fretted over the ambience, he played the best music. In his presence, the candles never died out and air was always slightly perfumed. Add to this the fact that this man is no pushover… he is the quiet one in quiet charge of a lot of things, and yet when this gaggle of women and friends gets together, our every comfort is his singular focus.

I usually visit Sasha and Rory with John. For years, we have made our pilgrimage to the south a joint venture. But this year, scheduling did not allow it and I had to go without my boy. I felt the empty place where John should have been… where he wanted to be. I missed John being with me. John and Rory are an amazing team of men catering to women.  I tried to honor his empty place at the table by being who and how I am… Me. Dominant, mischievous, playful, assured. I am other things too, and not all of those other things are the best of Me, but I did make a conscious effort to receive the service that was bestowed upon me, knowing that John would be most happy this way. It felt a little odd to be viewing the vanilla Rory in this private light, but not too much so. I rather enjoyed it once I found my comfort zone. Rory played cabana boy when John and Troy could not. And I rather enjoyed letting him.

Oh Cabana Boy

Oh Cabana Boy

I sat for many quiet hours on that stunning beach, people watching and wave watching. I looked up and down the beach and let a thousand kinky thoughts run through my mind. I created micro fantasies in nearly everyone I watched. Simple moments became kinky scenes. No one was safe from my growling imagination, and in all of this, I kept my boys close to my side.

John sends me beautiful pornography many times a day…..dozens of images of sexy torture. I don’t often have the time to properly reply, and I certainly don’t have the drive or even internet knowledge to return the gesture. But what I do do is to take those images and run with them… down the long stretch of beautiful beach, being careful not to spill the icy drink that I hold in my hand.

I love these boys. Even in absence, I adore them. My bed is empty without John in it next to me. My week feels void if I don’t get to spend time with Troy, who nurtures and serves Me in the most loving of ways. When I cannot have them beneath me, I try harder to keep them with me. Some days are better than others, but I do find those moments. I hope they know that.