Small moments

Sometimes it’s a small moment that takes place between her and I. One recent time was a family event at the hotel. Renting out a couple hotel rooms, ordering pizza and throwing the kids in the pool is a great way to get through a cold spell in Maine, so that’s what we did.

Food, cocktails, snacks and sodas for everyone up in the rooms, then time to change and head down to the pool. She and I went into one of the bathrooms in the suite and she stopped me after I had stripped off my pants and while she was also naked.

“Lay down” I lay on the floor. “Flat, head down” she clarified. I did so.

She stood over me, facing the locked door and let go a slow trickle. She quickly zeroed in on my mouth and it began to fill.

“Swallow” she said. I tried to keep up, swallowing and filling and swallowing as she continued to fill my mouth with her piss.

“That’s so fucking hot” she smiled as she spoke. My view was of her beautiful pussy and ass hovering over me, but her view was of watching in the mirror on the door – the trickle flowing into my mouth, my quick swallows and some of the splattering of piss onto my face. She had a great view and was very pleased. The sound of her piss sounded so loud. Water falling into a pool – trickling into a larger pocket of water – that sound, loud, echoing around the room. Surely anyone outside would be able to tell… but she just smiled.

She was done, it was not all she had, but it was enough to put me in my place. She finished up on the toilet and then squatted over me so I could clean her pussy of any stray drops.

“That was hot. The sounds, the look of your locked up cock. My piss filling your mouth. It makes me horny. But you’re locked up, aren’t you?” I nodded. “Pretty useless, pup. Pretty useless… ” she smiled and touched my chin.

“Get dressed, let’s go.”

We left the bathroom and continued on the rest of our evening with the family. We both agreed a good time was had by all and we giggled on the way home about our little escape into the bathroom, right under their noses, but still behind locked doors.

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.

Trigger Finger

127532515_0bbeb8b4ba_bDamn it, I miss my boy. Enough is enough. I completely get he is away for a very good cause, and never would I interfere with that. But damn it….I don’t like being apart like this. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that’s true. But what do they say about a Dominant woman? What grows within her during absence? The heart?? Yes, the heart does indeed yearn. The body? Yes, that yearns too. But so does my trigger finger. And it just so happens that my trigger finger is the same exact one that is used to point. To direct. To beacon. To silence. To snap. With that one finger, I can make my grown boy cry. And that I do very much enjoy at times.

I am missing our routines. Can I take care of myself? Yes, of course I can. But I don’t want to. Not in all aspects. I am missing the daily rituals of him undressing me at night. Of the gentle removal of jewelry from my body. I miss watching him as he puts away my clothing, my things. I am missing his daily devotions. His kissing of all my bits and places.  His licking. His attentive hands and mouth.

I am missing the petting. The holding. The coffee. The warming of the car. The bed being made. The perfect cocktail at the end of the day.

Yes, I am without him and I am making and drinking coffee. I am putting away my clothes. And making the bed.

But I don’t prefer to do these things. I much prefer to point. To beacon. To snap. To point and command.

Even if there is a huge, wicked smile upon my face.

Ruff Days!!

IMG_1044

My dog crawling around on his hands and knees, seeking a treasure from the sea

I couldn’t resist choosing this as the title. I giggle at it, smiling at the memories that are revealed in the photos for this post, and those memories make me happy.

It’s been a challenging couple of weeks for my pup. I empathize with the curve balls life has thrown him. Nothing insurmountable, nothing that time and patience won’t heal, but still – pain in the ass stuff. Mostly around his car. And travel plans.  And work. And logistics. All first world problems, we know. But still, we can feel it. It squeezes him much differently than I squeeze him. I dare say he likes My pressure much more than life pressure right now.

I’ve worked with care to keep him on a short leash during this time. My dog can have his day, but his upset is only allowed to go so far. He is not permitted to bring cranky into the bed. Like dust on a dog, he must shake it off before getting naked and jumping beneath the covers with me.

The other day we went to a small, local beach that is not widely known. It’s our secret gem right outside of the biggest city in the state. Being Maine, that isn’t too big of a thing, but still… it’s so wonderful to have it. It is really only accessible during low tide, and when the waters retreat, a beautiful little stretch of beach reveals itself to whose who know of its carefully hidden location. If there are 15 people on the beach, it’s crowded. It’s a place where almost anything goes. Small groups of adults will gather with a bottle of wine and a plate of nosh and watch the sail boats go by. Kids can strip down to their underpants and take a quick swim before heading home, and no one cares. And dogs are allowed off leash, at all times.

Nosh at secret beach

Nosh at secret beach

I took my boy there the other day. It was during the height of his crankiness. He probably would have rather stayed home, but I insisted that he come with me. We packed up and off we went. The tide was perfect, the day was stunning. And because dogs are permitted off leash, my boy was under strict orders to be under voice control at all times.

I got him up off his chair and ordered him to find a way to crawl around the beach area on his hands and knees. “But there are people here, all around us” my boy mildly protested. “I don’t care” was my reply. “Find a way to do it, and do it now” was my final answer.

And so he did.

Feigning a make believe interested in exploring up close the tiny sea critters that climb among the rocks when the tide is right, my boy crawled on his hands and knees. I was walking next to him, and to the average onlooker, it appeared as though my man was intently exploring some type of marine biology with intellectual passion, but really, he wasn’t. He was following my softly spoken commands.

Crawl for Me, boy. That’s it… crawl forward on your hands and knees”.

And he did.

Dig in the sand, boy. Find Me a gift. Dig for me. Fetch me a sea present“.

And he did.

Sniff something, pet. Put your face down low, and sniff something for Me“.

He did.

Dig for me, pet. Use that paw, and dig me a hole“.

Of course, he did.

If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that we aren’t really into puppy play. It is somewhat rare that we actually do this sort of thing. We will use little, endearing dog references, but otherwise, puppy play is not our thing. But on this day, it was. I was enamored at the opportunity to play in public like this. It is one of my favorite things to do. Right out in the open, in public, for anyone to see, my boy was crawling around on his hands and knees, following the softly spoken orders that I gave him. No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. People walked by him, engaged in their own conversations, and occasionally someone would smile at the man on his hands and knees, exploring the rocks and seaweed, accompanied by a woman who was taking pictures. The only thing that could have made this better would have been to have him naked, with toy troy next to him. In my mind, and in my imagination, he was very naked. And collared. And leashed. Because even in a playground with few rules such as this one, it’s nice to have order.

IMG_1048

Gift from the sea. The sand dollar that my boy found while digging, placed on his back, next to the brand I had placed on his skin a year ago.

 

IMG_1054

My feet, and his hand, as he crawls near the rocks, digging and sniffing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

The List

I wake nearly each morning entangled in my boy’s leash. That is because I sleep each night with one end  wrapped around my wrist, and the other end attached to my boy’s collar. I miss waking and quietly extracting myself from that entanglement. Being an early riser allows me to look down upon his sleeping, naked, collared form and I miss starting my day that way.

I miss setting aside coffee for him. I miss whispering in his ear before I leave for work the small chores I expect him to accomplish before he leaves for the day.

I miss telling him what he can expect for the evening. I like telling him what he might be cooking for dinner, whom he might be serving for supper, what cocktails I am in the mood for, if any at all.

When others are around, I can give him a look from across the room, and he knows that I am calling him to my side. And when we are alone, I miss uttering the single word ‘Come’, knowing that he will get up from whatever he is doing and come to me. And if I snap and point, he’ll crawl to me.

I miss looking over at him in the kitchen. I drink in his sexy, muscular male form, and I delight at watching his body move beneath a fitted shirt.

I miss his eyes upon me as they follow me when I head to bed for the night. He silently gets up and follows, closing the door softly behind me.

I miss the kneeling he does as I stand before him at night.

I strip naked, and he folds the clothes as they fall off my body. He will bend from that position and kiss the tops of my feet. My toes. My ankles. And when I choose to turn, his lips will kiss my thighs, the cheeks of my ass, the small of my back.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it's unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

This may be an image of Delilah and Samson, though it’s unclear. It was found through femdomartists.com but no artist was attributed.

I do nothing at night but strip naked, and get into bed. I lay there in pillows, watching him pick up after me. Occasionally he’ll pull my panties to his face and breathe in deeply and smile. Often times I will have him wear those same soiled panties to work the next day. I miss that too.

I miss what happens or doesn’t happen in the nighttime hours. Sometimes there is sexy, torrid torture, and sometimes I simply grab and squeeze his balls while his whimpers lull me to sleep.

Most nights there are back rubs and petting. He gives and I receive. He works while I sleep.

And every night, there is the worshipful cleaning. The homage. The pleading look that cuts through the dark, where he feels my nod more than he sees it. I will feel his beard upon the skin of my back as he kisses his way downward beneath the covers. Many night he will lay inverted… his face against My ass, his arms wrapped around My legs, his body pressed against mine.

It’s like a thousand warm hands touching me. I am missing each and every one of those hand.

Come back to me soon, my pup. Life is not nearly the same without you.

Save

Not the best of days

14037671409_bbb2f90095_z

It has not been a good week. The past 4 weeks have been challenging, but this past week has been especially hard. All vanilla stuff. My wonderful, loving, family oriented dad got his legs kicked out from beneath him, and at age 76, he is dealing with a life altering sense of sorrow I have never seen him deal with before. A first world problem perhaps, but it’s a problem for him none-the-less and I am deeply saddened and distracted by it.

I spend my days at my job (thank god I really enjoy my work!) and I come home to my dad. I am with him  until he sleeps. Then I sleep. And then I get up and do it all over again. That’s pretty much how it’s been. I have not spent this much time with him in decades. I’m happy to do it, but it’s not without adjusting to it.

I have been amazingly fortunate. I have not had overly needy children or  parents. Nothing out of the ordinary. I come from self-sufficient stock, apparently.  I am well aware at what a wonderful thing this is. But now that has changed, and will stay changed for the immediate future. Not forever, or even for a long time. Hopefully, next week will bring a lot of resolution. But for now, this is how it is.

I have put mostly everyone on hold. It is all about him right now, as it should be. No nights out, no writing of the blog, no scheming or planning….fucking or beating.

I have had small moments where I feel seized with worry about my boys….my john and troy.  I don’t like feeling like I am not caring for them. It sounds and feels odd for me to say that. I am the Dominant, after all. But I see them as possessions. My cherished possessions. And out of necessity, I have had to put them on a shelf for a bit, and let them be.

But I also have bigger moments where I feel deeply confident in them. They know me, they know my family and they understand what I am dealing with. They are respectful, loving, loyal, caring, kind. Exactly what I want and need them to be. I think this is the first time that my vanilla life has so fully interjected itself into my kinky world for a prolonged period of time, and I sense that troy is not sure what to do. My guess is that he is giving me space and privacy, and I appreciate that. I am, however, disappointed that I didn’t get my flowers this week.  My table has been bare for days. Each week he is to bring me one small bouquet. I’ll admit that I feel disappointed. This is one of those rare and perhaps awkward times when no one is quiet sure what to do or how to act and so therefore we are just simply being good and kind to one another. And this is a good thing. I am not knocking it at all.

But I miss their attention. I miss time with them. I miss john. He pets my back and body every single night before I fall asleep, and I miss it. I miss the comfort of his quiet confidence. I miss how he knows me so very well and how he kneels before me as I undress for bed. I miss the homage he pays to my ass each night. I miss a thousand things about him. I miss troy cooking for me. I miss parading him around. He is tired too. It’s the craziest part of his year work wise. I don’t want to berate him for being as human as we all are. But dammit, boy…where are my flowers??

Sigh.

So….my point, exactly?? My point is this: I am just as awkward as any other human being right now. I am the boss of this domain, and yet I feel a bit powerless. I am the dominant, and yet I am wishing someone else would decide what’s for dinner, or what we’re going to do with the early evening hours. I don’t like these long leashed that are currently attached to my boys, and yet I appreciate very much that they aren’t tugging upon me, adding strain. I want things from them that feel selfish. And I feel guilty about feeling selfish. Yet… I have never apologized for wanting what I want. Right now, I want to demand things of them without having to spend the mental energy thinking about how I demonstrate that appreciation. I have moments in my day where I feel really damn demanding of them, but I have mostly been quiet. Add it all up, and it feels awkward. My kink feels awkward right now because I am not sure if I should let it all go and be pushy with them this week, or if I should not. Do I get louder, or quieter…..that’s the question.

I really miss kink. Good to know that it is right there waiting, but wow….I really miss it. Those boys had better watch out. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for.

16029012027_fa72224121_m

 

 

At risk of falling in

I know I still haven’t written about all the wonderful things that camp had to offer, but camp is still with me. And on top of that, my denial continues. And my submission to Chloe continues. And it’s not stopped. And that’s unusual for us. Usually we take a bit of a break. This year, perhaps because we are living together 24/7 and living a much more FLR, we haven’t taken a break. Even with me having my children for weeks at a time, I am still Chloe’s boy. And she’s continued to run with it.

And that’s where I find myself at risk of falling in too deeply. I can, sometimes, fall very deeply into my submission to her. Into that place where I will do anything for her. And I trust her completely, which is good, but damn, I could be at some serious risk here. And it’s not like I’m going to jump off a bridge for her, but the primary risk is that of losing myself – my “John-ness” which attracts her to me – in favor of my submissiveness. I suppose the easiest way to describe it is that I could turn from that nice strong guy she loves to be around (and loves to torture) into the doormat slave that goes into the “Yes, Mistress” to all the queries she makes. And that doormat kind of submissive is not what either of us find sexy. And yet, I’m at risk of being there.

At risk of falling very deep with no escape

At risk of falling very deep with no escape

I think that, after the kids head back to their mother and I can get a break for a few days, I’ll be okay. Once I can get some of the writing out of my brain and into the screen, I’ll have purged some of the deeper submissiveness and made room for that John guy.

In the meantime, I have made my more dominant side make an appearance or two, which is heartening. And I think that if I were not as switchy as I am, I would definitely slip into being a very submissive slave and into the doormat world of slaves. And while that may be okay for some, it’s certainly not our kink. I just have to see where we are evolving in our kink and how we both fit into it.

Okay, so more writing to come, including more Dude in Distress and clothespins and pee and more teasing and denial than you can shake a cane at!

Unwrapping the weekend

IMG_7955-1

Breakfast served by naked and collared

What a lovely few days it has been. John was off to far away lands where he was able to ‘slave’ and play and be in service around thousands of other dominants and submissives. More on those details in the near future, but suffice it to say, I am glad he is home after a lousy 10 hour drive from the DC area.  While he was away, I got to spend several lovely days with toy troy who although wasn’t feeling 100%, put a lot of effort into his service and submission.

The picture in this post is the breakfast I woke up to on Friday morning. I don’t know that I can recall having had a candle-lit breakfast! I generally don’t eat much in the morning, but this was too beautiful to pass up. Troy was naked, in his collar, and seems magically at home in the kitchen. He is a good cook and I got to be the beneficiary of that. Several times, actually.

My vanilla girlfriend and I did go down to the Fetish Flea this weekend. That too was an event that held thousands of kinky people. She had never been before so it was fun to watch her watching all of the latex clad lovelies stroll around the enormous hotel complex. There was lots and lots of shopping and looking. Many, many vendors selling all sorts of anything dastardly and sexy you can imagine.

We were treated well. Troy had created a picnic for us that was insanely amazing. A dozen containers of meticulously packed foods, all beautifully thought out and packaged. Smoked meats and cheeses, nuts, fruits, jams, olives, pickles, slices of spiral ham separated with orange slices. We had croissants. Fig jam.  We had ceramic plates and cloth place mats and napkins, even a baggie with candles and matches. We drank wine and finished with chocolate. My girlfriend declared it was too beautiful to eat, and she was nearly correct.

I loved picturing troy at home doing all of this prep work. I know he really likes my friend and thinks she is wonderful and sexy (she is!). I think it made troy feel happy to be serving both of us in a way. I love the attention to details, the beauty of what he created. It made me feel proud of him when we shared this bounty with many others; he got an A++ for such efforts, and was rewarded with a few hand crafted toys of his own that I purchased for him from the flea.

One of my highlights of that trip was the unexpected encounter we had at a local restaurant after the flea had ended for the day. My girlfriend and I had gone to a steak house that was incredibly crowded. It was a two hour wait for a table. Thanks, but no thanks. Just as we were about to leave, two seats opened up at the bar, and we nabbed them as no reservations were needed and no one seemed to be waiting for them.

There was a very sexy couple sitting to my right. We didn’t talk for most of the meal, but they looked sharp and dressed and ready for something other than a steak house. I started chatting with them towards the end of the meal, making some comment about how crowded the restaurant was, etc. They asked if we were local, and I said no. They asked what brought us down to Rhode Island.

I smiled, and asked, “Do you really want to know??”

They looked at one another, looked back at me, and said, “Yes, sure. Of course”.

“I am here for the Fetish Flea”. I said, smiling, knowing where this would go.

“The what???“, they asked in unison.

“The Fetish Flea. Fetish flea market.”, I again said, smiling.

“What’s that??” they asked with widening eyes and open faces.

Again……“Do you really want to know??”

Emphatic head bobbing confirmed that they did indeed want to know.

I proceeded to tell them, with my girlfriend leaning over and chiming in on the conversation. We told them about the 50 or so classes they could take on kink and power exchange. About the demonstrations.  About the shopping. About rules of the hotel and how people could walk around in various states of dress or undress, as long as your pretty parts were covered. We told them an overview of the entire event, that it went on all weekend, and they were shocked. “We have been living in this town for 25 years and we had no idea this was going on a mile from our house!!!”. They went on to say, “We have been looking for something like this for years! Oh my god, we are going tomorrow. We can’t wait. We are amazed….how did we not know??”

I don’t recall seeing two people leave a restaurant so quickly, practically pulling each other out the front door. The woman stopped, ran back to the bar in her fur coat and high heels, and grabbed both me and my friend, pulling us tightly to her perfumed bosom, thanking us for telling them, and dashed off to be with her man.  It was a fun moment. A sexy moment. With total strangers. How lovely to say to someone, “Do you really want to know??” and have them say “Yes!!”.

Valentines Day was lovely. Insanely cold (twenty below!!!). We woke, had coffee, napped, woke, napped, showered, went out for a lobster lunch, did a little shopping and then to a local bar. I got to meet many of troy’s friends, and that was really nice. All excellent people who seemed very curious about me. Troy said to be honest about how we met, so Craigslist was the truthful answer. Everyone seems to think that Craigslist is junk these days. It is not, we assured them, smiling.

John is back. We spent last night cuddled in bed, fucking and talking. We were under the covers by 7pm, asleep by 9, I think. My boy is not feeling well either; its the month of colds, it seems. More on some of his stories over the next few days. Lots of good stories. He came back exhausted and happy. I haven’t looked over his body enough to see if there are bruises or marks. I am still figuring out if he gave more or received more….seems to be a good amount of both. It was fun for us to recount for one another our adventures. If we couldn’t be together, then we we will do our best when apart. I think we all got an A++ this round. Stuff like this makes the dead of winter survivable.

 

 

 

 

Nutshells in review…

2275207430_b04040e0dd_z

So, I have not really posted since the holidays. Typically, January is my month of hibernation. I have to steel myself against the coldest, harshest month in order to get through it. I have done that pretty successfully, I am happy to say. I have spent the month with family, cleaning up body and mind from holiday over indulgence,  feeling confident and overall, things are good.

Here’s the nutshell:

My boy john continues to be a loving, patient, devoted presence in my life. My boy has not had his leash tugged at very often, he has not had his ass violated, he has not been beaten or sexually used like I know he likes, and yet, he stays close to my side, always steadfast, nearly always agreeable. I cannot appreciate him enough for this. I know he is happy to see my kinky awakening now that adult child has headed back south.

My toy “t” continues to be a lovely presence in our world. He is the toy I found on Craigslist. He is a gem, and I am delighted to have him. He is devoted, eager, happy, curious, kind, and a damn good cook. I am thoroughly enjoying how he tends to Me. My john has been instrumental in helping train and mold ‘t’ to the things I like and how I like them. It is going quiet well. ‘t’ is thrilled to be a part of things even though things have not been all that exciting in January.

I am dealing with guilt around ‘p’, the other craigslist contender. I am the one who dropped the ball on this one. I think I lost some mojo around the whole thing because I know he is straight out with work and I don’t like the idea of taking him from that when I know how important it is to him. I am not a perfect dominant. I wrestle with feelings and guilts like any other person. I pretty much let ‘p’ slip away and I am not feeling great about that. It still feels unresolved to me. I am still thinking about it, thinking about him.

There has been a sexy and interesting development;

Someone has emerged in January who I have been writing with for months and months. Oh, I do like him!!! I do believe that I will be writing about adventures with him a fair amount. He is dominant, and he is an excellent candidate for many of the deviant things I am interested in seeing happen to my boy(s). I am going to leave it at that. We have gotten through the “meet and greets” and the negotiations. I think there is a lot of potential in this. I am excited. If you enjoy reading about m2m adventures, you should check in often. I smile.

I received an email recently from someone who I really enjoyed playing with but who disappeared a while back. He is a dominant and I met him about 8 years ago as an occasional play partner for myself during the times I am interested in bottoming. I liked him a lot, but he fell off the radar and I moved on. He has returned and I find this very interesting and rather exciting. I am not the same person I was then, and he seems very at peace with that, and with himself. We will see where it goes, but it brings me joy to see him back, and that is a good thing.

I need to go back and re-read older posts from December. I feel as though I have unfinished stories to tell from last month. I will do that. For now, I wanted to post a brief update of the happenings and not-so-happenings in the house of the exquisite dungeon.

:-)

 

Once upon an abduction… Part 2

This post is part four of a week long series entitled “Looking Back”. They are a few pages from our ‘photo albums’ that I wanted to write about as john and I celebrate 10 years of living in a kinky power exchange. We hope you enjoy, and as always, thanks so much for reading and for sharing your comments with us.

————————————————————————–

Again…..

What.

The.

Fuck.

I’m about to tangle with a grand inquisitor and I am aroused?

And so it began. German guy wanted the numbers and I told him to go fuck himself. I heard his heavily laden sigh, and he mentioned something about feeling regret that this was my answer, but he has been prepared for such a response. There was a moment of still. Of quiet. I was left with my own anticipation, and it built to heights I didn’t know were possible.

I don’t know exactly how long the torture went on, but I do know it was many hours. Back and forth it went…..the inquisitor playing both good cop and bad cop. I resisted. For hours, I resisted. The thought of giving that bastard anything that John trusted me with broke my soul.

Others helped too. The hands that abused were many. I remember crying deeply at times….my tears and snot covering my face beneath the hood. Occasionally a straw was pushed up to my mouth where I could suck in water, which I did. Sometimes I hungrily swallowed that water, and other times I tried to spit it at them through the hood.

Other times I yelled, defiant and deeply angry.

GO FUCK YOURSELF, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!”

I would sob…..You are not getting jack shit from me!

But that is hard to maintain when your naked thighs are tied open to a wooden chair, and you are caned so often, so precisely, you start to tremble on top of your trembles.

I think it was the nipple torture that eventually did me in. It was such a small part of my body, so sensitive and sweet….and it was enduring things I had never even imagined.

I gave some of the numbers. I gave fake numbers to that account. The German would leave and check those numbers, determining quickly that I was lying.  I would be badly beaten for those lies.

And so it cycled.

Eventually, I just couldn’t do it any more.

What I remember so vividly was that my brain told me when it was enough. I felt it. My body shook from the abuse. I could both feel and tell that others were checking on me….more water, hands and feet being examined,  ropes adjusted. But it was my brain that waved a white flag. It was looking out for me. It said that I was done. My body was aching in every possible way, my mind had been distorted and tested, but in the end, it provided.

I gave the numbers. One by one, I recited those numbers. By the end of that series, I was crying with every ounce of heart. I was so broken to give those away. I felt as though I was giving away trust. I was breaking that inner circle he had let me into. I was not strong enough to protect his Swiss secret. I could no longer lift my head off my own chest, my collapse was complete.

“Good girl”, I heard in soft, tender German.

And that was that. Within seconds, all those hands untied me. The hood was left in place, but I was guided tenderly to a big bed that was very nearby, and naked, I was laid upon it. Bodies immediately were pressed against mine as a blanket covered us all.

Slowly, the hood was removed, my eyes blinking, my skin flinching. I opened my eyes as slowly as I could. In front of me was John’s beaming face….his eyes searching my own with joy and pride and pleasure.

I looked around me, and all I could see was a wall of smiling people. My abductors. My captors. My torturers. My friends.

“Happy Birthday!”, they said. “Happy, happy birthday, Chloe!”

I cried and smiled and laughed and then the abduction crew went upstairs for cocktails while John touched me, hugged me, tended to my many bruises and then fucked me beautifully. I fell asleep in his arms still hearing his German accent echo in my head “Good girl, Chloe. Good girl.”


The guy at the bar? The one who sat near us, the one I thought was checking us out? Yeah, he was in on it too. He was the one who took the parking garage pass from John in order to move and hide John’s car. I never did find out who he was.

About 9 months before this abduction took place, John and I negotiated an abduction and had me sign a release. It was a kinky release, he explained, in case a scene we were doing ever went wrong. Each abductor carried a copy of the release “just in case”. It was a consent form, basically, so that no one would get arrested. That is how long this abduction had been in the works.

Oh, and there is no Swiss bank account. He is not secretly rich. But as my birthday slowly approaches he keeps talking about his “Cayman Island” paperwork.