One small thing

There’s one subtle thing that happens in our little house. I’m not sure that the rest of the house notices it, not even Madame. Our core household is Madame, a roommate and I. We sometimes have more or less, but that’s the core of the household. The roommate is a dear friend and we’ve lived together before. In fact, I lived in her place before I ever officially lived with Madame.

In our schedules, I am typically the last person off to work in the morning. I’m the 9 to 5 person. The others tend to leave earlier. A few months ago, I started noticing that they’d leave their coffee cups wherever they last had them. On the dining room table, on the counter, on the butcher block, wherever. And I started gathering them before I leave the house. Just making sure all the coffee cups were either cleaned or in the dishwasher. No, it’s not a big thing, but it’s my way of serving my house. And yes, the other roommate is a woman – but she has not a kinky bone in her body. So while I may be serving the two women in our house by doing this small task, it is so far removed from any kind of female domination thing, but more a token of my caring for my roommates. It’s a token of friendship, affection and love that I quietly share with them. I don’t know if they notice – and they never need to. I’m happy to see their mugs scattered wherever. And I happily take care of them. I have some good people in my life and I happily take care of them.

So very tired

Last night I visited a friend in Boston to watch the game. The record length world series game. That went for 7 hours and 20 minutes in 18 innings. EIGHTEEN! This after a full day of work, then visiting, leaving him in the 14th and finally arriving home at 5:30 am. To wake at 10 and do more work (side hustle). And now I’m home and so tired.

And I feel bad. I’m missing an opportunity. There are four lovely women out in our dining room while I’m almost falling over (the chair is catching me) and missing an opportunity to serve the ladies.

This is normally something I am happy to help with. But my fatigue is making me anti-social and the fatigue is also pushing me closer and closer to the bed. So I’ll miss this chance to serve. And Madame says I have an exemption tonight, which is good and I very much appreciate. But damn, I miss having such opportunities.

But it seems like I’ll get far more opportunities come next year as Madame promises significant changes coming with the first of the year. We’ll talk more about this and she’ll let me know what she has in mind, but my life as her domestic partner will certainly be more service oriented and include much more discipline. That’s what she’s saying I should expect next year. And I’m happy as a clam to hear that.

And now, soon, shortly, I’ll be passing out in the bed, because I’m beyond tired. It’s amazing how tired I am.

Beg, borrow and steal

Offerings

Last month, we had a lovely encounter with another FLR couple who came to Maine for a visit. We did not know these people, but John had found them through a mutual following on Twitter. They reached out to him, saying that they were coming to our neck of the woods in Maine to visit the area and wanted to know if we wanted to get together for a drink. John made the arrangements and I ended up meeting the group after a previous engagement had ended.

To say they were delightful is an understatement. Both of them were wonderful and fun, and right away we recognized that their FLR dynamic was similar to our own. What started as a drink turned into 3 fun days of getting together for sight seeing, exploring Portland, shared meals and sexy cocktails in groovy places. We clicked immediately, and both john and I enjoyed the ease, companionship and shared joy that we all experienced. It seemed to me that She and I were the chatters of the group, whereas the men were a bit more on the quiet side. Although….it might be more accurate to say that the boys were perfectly average in their ease of banter while the women were exceptional. Yes…..this is a more accurate statement. Here’s why this is worth mentioning:

During one stop along the way, we were nestled on some comfy couches at a restaurant in front of a fire. Some appetizers had been ordered and placed before us as She and I were  busy chatting away. I became aware that her boy alternated between watching us chat and looking down at the food. Back and forth his hopeful and handsome face would drift, and  yet no food was touched. It struck me as mildly curious but then soon, he was able to catch Her attention and asked if she would like a bite. Her response was “No, not yet, thank you….but you may begin” to which he thanked her and began tasting….but only after he offered to prepare me a plate. So well trained!

A curious look must have passed across my face, as She looked at me, smiled brightly and said “Oh, it’s one of my rules. I tend to be more of the talker and have missed out on too many sips and bites because he will finish eating and drinking before I have even begun. So, I had to create a rule. I am to be offered the first and last bite and sip of whatever he his having. It works perfectly”.

I loved this! What a brilliant, simple, sexy idea! I have often had very similar experiences with John and had not really come up with a reasonable solution about how to deal with it.  I often found it awkward to be in a social setting and find myself wanting to chastise john for not remembering to offer me a taste of his unusual cocktail or meal before he had finished it. Generally, he is pretty good about sharing, but not always, and too many times as we would leave a restaurant and head to the car, I would address him sternly but it was always after the fact. I never liked how those parking lot moments could put a damper on an otherwise lovely evening. John is a good, good boy and I dislike being displeased with him.

This is what I love about spending time with other D/s people……some of the best, most practical things are ideas that are born of others. Some ideas I have stolen outright, and others I have modified for a better fit. This idea…..the ‘first bite/last sip’ rule I mimicked entirely, and it became law as of 01/01/2018.

This is a creative solution as we live with vanillas and often navigate two different worlds.  It would probably seem strange for us to be at home and for him to outwardly ask Me if I wanted a bite of the same exact meal we are all sharing as a household. To avoid that, I have added a rule. He is not allowed to have the first or last bite of a meal until I indicate he is allowed to begin eating. He is to wait patiently, plate untouched. I will either exercise my right to take that first bite, or I will casually and discreetly give a ‘thumbs up’ sign (often camouflaged by my running my fingers through my hair) which lets him know that I acknowledge his offering, but am declining it and he may begin his meal.

I really like this. It’s another leash he can wear no matter where we are or whom we are with. It makes him be attentive to me despite whatever distractions may be going on around us. It is a daily exercise in expectation and protocol….things that vacillate for us. And in an odd way, it makes me feel a bit more connected to our new friends, which I like too. It keeps a bit of their lovely spirit alive and well within us. I smile as I recall the first time I saw the rule in action….him kneeling between the coffee table and the couch, prepared to serve Her, blending in so naturally in a historic restaurant.  With one small wave of her hand, this beautiful woman commanded her boy in a way that seemed effortless and stunning. How could one not steal a page from a playbook such as that?? Thank you, Texas. Your spirit lingers in Maine.

Yield

I have found myself in a different state around women in general. I yield. Very often. In the office, I’ll often yield to the ladies in the office (we’re about a 60/40 split F/m) and also at home I nearly always yield as well.

What do I mean yield? Mostly I’m talking about movement. At the office, yielding to the coffee pot, to the tricky blind corner around the reception desk, the doors, etc. At home, with the exception of in the kitchen (because hot things are hot and all the roommates know kitchens as their means of income in some way), I’m yielding. Steps, doors, etc. And even with some things in the kitchen. Though we generally have a “You cook, I clean…” deal, more often than not, if I cook, I’m helping with cleaning or leading most of it. (I did take the Christmas eve dinner cleanup OFF, however! I did cook for 6 hours – and other men cleaned up!).

It doesn’t generally happen in the car because identifying women in the car is just not enough time to process and to assume anything. At least in the office and home everyone’s genders are known.

In general with driving I’ve slowed down so while I’m not giving it away on the road, I’m following most of the rules and waiting my turn at the annoying four way stops. There’s just not enough time to do proper evaluation in a car. It could get messy too easily.

So, well, how is this different?

Well, I’ve become more in touch with my slave side lately. I have put off more of the things that make me happy and tried to ask less of Chloe when we’re playing. I’ve tried to keep up on the things she asks me to do. I’ve tried to impose less on her in general and try to help with more. I’m fully in acceptance of my sexual denial and consider the teasing a very fun thing that I look forward to. I’m perfectly happy to wait for the occasional orgasm that sneaks through and enjoy those as opposed to wanting to cum. (Remember, I can do orgasm w/out ejaculation – and it’s pretty awesome). And I’m also perfectly happy to pleasure my partner and let them roll over and sleep if they want. Frustrating, yes, but part of what I’m there for.

Now, what’s the problem with that John? Well, nothing. But…

(See, there it is!)

But it’s been offering me another instance of trying to offer better service. I think this is a good thing. I’ve often been actively in the process of doing my jobs in the house and had to step back, step aside, move back, redo things that I was doing to yield to the oncoming traffic. And there are a few things to feel about this.

First, I recognize my privilege in this one and realize that women through history have been doing this f o r e v e r. This is nothing foreign to them. Minorities as well. I sometimes see it when I’m the customer at service industry things (hotels, restaurants, etc) and I almost feel bad, but then I know that in some of these places, they’re expected to behave that way. But yes, I recognize that my ignoring this for so long is part of my white male privilege.

Second, I get frustrated. Oh, sometimes it frustrates the hell out of me. “Like, really, I’m trying to do this for YOU, why am I walking back to let you through?” Well, John, you’re moving back because you’re doing it for them, you ninny. Yes, all of it. It’s for them. Do the whole thing for them. You’re not just completing a task, you dolt. You’ve said it before to yourself, that your service is one of the ways in which you’re worshiping them and honoring them, so fucking do it then – all the way! Them coming along and getting “in the way” is not in the way (see point one on this for reminder, John) – it’s part of doing the job. But I do get frustrated. I sometimes cannot help it. I can only try to be better about it in the future and remind myself that the task is from beginning to end and all points in between. And to do the job for the whole job.

And lastly, it really is part of my doing things for people. If I’m not going to let Chloe go by while I carry her clothes upstairs, well, I’m being an idiot and not serving her in the way I should. And I could see where she might sometimes get upset with me and my pushing through with things while I’m doing such things for her. Just plain uncool.

Now, I do need to tack back to the kitchen thing. I don’t know that I can yield too much in the kitchen, particularly on complicated meals. I’m a pretty “mise en place” kind of person in the kitchen. I will proudly state that I’ve made strides in the kitchen, living with foodies. I work much better in a crowded kitchen than I used to. But there are times when I need the focus – and perhaps I need a better way to tell people “Hey, I’m really trying to not fuck this food up, can you come do that later?” or similar – but I’ll work on it. But jeezum, when I’m trying to plate up toast, eggs and the rest of breakfast at the same time for four plates at once, “GTFO da kishun!!!” I can also work on my timing too and get better here.

So, I have noticed I’m yielding much more. I’m certainly showing more deference to women in general. I sometimes get frustrated when I’m yielding, but I’m getting better about dealing with that. I have more work to do.

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?”