Ruff Days!!

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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.

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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.

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I know it’s fantasy…

I know that the “never cumming again” thing is fantasy, but I’m okay sharing that fantasy with Madame. This morning I mentioned that I was going to lock up while she’s away for a couple days because I’m not entirely sure I can trust myself to be in bed alone without her there. I told her I was too horny to trust myself. I also told her I missed cumming. She admitted that she also missed my cumming.

He's teased

He’s teased

So, sometime in the future, I’ll be cumming, but for now, I’m okay with playing the fantasy of “never again”. It’s still a fun story to tell and it gets me so highly aroused. Like this morning. When she teased my cock again. And again. And made me drip with my arousal.

And that’s more than okay. So, I’ll be locked until at least Saturday while she is away. Then on Saturday, I may unlock, as I have a two week time period where I will be in various living conditions and awkwardness may ensue. ;)

Never…

Last night, we made time to play together in bed. We had been out and about doing our own thing yesterday, came together in the middle of the day and then made our own little pub crawl, visiting three breweries/restaurants yesterday afternoon and evening. Settling into our nest of a bedroom, we watched a little TV and then started playing. It was one of those nights where we struggled for control. She incited me and I pinned her arms. I fucked her while I did this. She has trouble talking when I do it, which is more than half the fun. Soon she wrested control back and she was using me. My cock was too ready to explode, so I finished her with one of our most favorite dildos, fucking her very hard with it until she came.

You know when you have a bucket that is just full to the top? And you try and move that bucket? It’s going to spill, you’re aware of it, you know it, but just because it’s a bucket, it’s going to spill. The cock spilled too, as the balls are so very full, overfull. It was a beautiful lubricant for me to finish her with the dildo, but she insisted that she be cleaned up again after. She stroked me while I did so. Three more times I needed her to stop while she did so to prevent the bucket from being knocked clean over.

Then while lying beside her, she held tightly to my cock and balls while she talked to me. “That was nice, but what am I going to do with that cock of mine? It can’t fuck me the way I want.” She stroked her cock slowly. “It just seems you can’t use  your cock on me the way I need it.” She squeezed my balls. “I like your begging. I really do. I love watching your face as you struggle.” She stroked my cock again.

“But struggle all you want. And beg all you want. You’re not going to cum.” She released my cock and rolled over on her side, her back toward me. “Pet me to sleep, slave.”

“Yes, Ma’am” I whimpered.

She continued talking. “I really do love using you, it’s fun. But I can get myself off without you. And you’ve already showed that your cock isn’t useful enough to me. But you never would have handled my pussy squeezing that cock. You would have spilled.” I pet her back and shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry about spilling that cum, love. I’m just not going to let you. There’s just no reason for you to cum, ever again.”

I don't do caption photos, but this one seems to accurate. I just have to.

I don’t do caption photos, but this one seems to accurate. I just have to.

Ever again. EVER. AGAIN. It echoed in my head, my eyes welled up. I stroked her lower back and butt. I sobbed into the pillow. She spoke slowly and quietly. Each sentence with a pause at the end of it. A pause so that I could hear the echo of the hammer that just pounded that nail.

“No pup, there’s just no reason for it.

I don’t need it,

so it won’t be happening again.”

I sobbed into my pillow again.

“You know pup, it seems a shame that we never officially said good bye to your cumming.

We should have a ceremony, where we say good bye to your cumming forever.

We’ll have lots of friends and we’ll have a ceremony so all these friends of ours can say good bye to your cumming too.

That might be helpful to you, a ceremony to say good bye.”

She never indicated that I’d have a last cum during that ceremony, but I implied it, perhaps inaccurately. I humped my body against hers. She continued her slow methodical phrase by phrase talking.

“Go ahead, hump into me if you want,

push that hard cock into me,

but it’s not going to cum.

It doesn’t ever need to cum again.

Don’t worry, there will be cum for you.

It just won’t be yours.

It’ll be on your face,

you can lap it up off my tits,

and maybe if you’re very good,

out of my pussy.”

I rubbed her back and she fell asleep. I stopped humping against her and sobbed into my pillow, then fell asleep shortly after her.


She teased me again around 2:30 in the morning, using me for a little while, but then her talk of “ever again” came up, and I almost came, and she was done with me and put me back to bed.

This morning she told me “Last night was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed it.” I smiled. She saw my cock rise under the sheets. “You had fun too…” she looked down at me. I nodded at her. “I know, pup.” She grabbed my cock through the sheets. “I know.”

“I don’t last long when you talk about that, you know.”

She smiled. “I was only speaking the truth last night. Nothing but the truth.” She pumped my cock one or two times and stood up again from the bed. “Get up now and write about it, pup.”

And so I’ve written about it. And I’ve set this post to show up in a little while, after I’m at work and have stopped thinking about those words “ever again”. I’m still not sure whether it’s real or not. And I think that’s exactly what she expects.

Tales from camp: Dude in Distress

Madame insisted we attend the “Dudes in Distress Orgy” which was hosted up in the Sex-o-rama (SOR). Since this is one of the areas we set up for camp, we like SOR – a lot. It’s special for us. Madame, myself and our toy-troy went up, Madame looking quite elegant and was towing her two boys on their leashes. Introductions were made by the hostesses of the event and we went around the room/tent introducing ourselves and what we might be interested in doing that night. I offered some suggestions of bondage and teasing. Happily and quite expectedly there were people there interested in doing some bondage and teasing. After introductions and ground rules were complete, we all kind of went off to try and connect with others. I had spied a long time friend of ours at the orgy, Tiny Terror (TT), and while we have spent many an hour around the circle of chairs by our cabin together, we’ve never really played together.

TT was looking beautiful, I’ve always found her attractive, but I think, perhaps, the age difference has prevented me from asking her to play prior to this. But there she was, smiling and attractive and there I was, dressed in naught but some leather chaps and a bow-tie, if I recall correctly. We did some quick negotiation and found ourselves a place to be. Without the toy bag, all I had to be tied up with was the leash, so she tied my arms behind me. I lay down on the liberator shape (big foam rectangle thing) with my legs over the edge and she proceeded to glove up and apply some lube, then tease the hell out of my cock for a while.

Naturally, being a teasing session, I wasn’t allowed to cum, but I would be able to have an orgasm, if I could make it happen. She had the traditional instructions for teasing me – if I say STOP, she has to stop and stop right then. I do let it get to the very edge and it can be dangerous to continue even one more stroke. Or whisper. Or tickle. Or whatever. Stop is stop. She liked this and she teased my cock deliciously. She also abused me, punching, slapping and hitting my cock and balls. Apparently I can take a decent amount of abuse to my balls, as she has lots of experience and was very pleased with the level of abuse she was able to dish out. And that fact made her smile. And that smile..

Well, let me give a little more information here. I prefer to have my glasses off when sexy times occur. I just don’t like them falling off my face and sliding around. So that often leaves me with impaired vision. This can be a nuisance at times, but in this case… I was on my back, resting on my tied up hands. She was at the other end of my body, down low, teasing and torturing. My focus was poor, but I could see those crimson lips as a beautiful flash of red. Her mouth drew me into her as she teased. I couldn’t help but stare at those beautiful lips, which, when she smiled were so entirely lovely. Her lips parted showing her teeth, surrounded by bright red smiling lips. Oh, what a joy. And she would get me very worked up and enjoy my struggling and she would smile and I would smile back at her. I know the most physical thing she was doing to me was with her hands, but the biggest mental game was that smile of hers.

A little lipstick can really make a mouth shine

A little lipstick can really make a mouth shine

I did end up finding an orgasm among all the teasing and torture she was doing. I am pretty sure I startled her with it as one doesn’t normally see men having orgasms without making a big mess, but indeed, it was a great orgasm and she was very happy to have teased me. I shared with her my perspective of the blurred image of her lips and her smile and she very much appreciated my telling her. She said she doesn’t often wear lipstick, so this was something she had done differently. And I think she just might do it more as a result.

It does go to show that often it can be the littlest of things that can turn a good scene into a great one. And in the case of this Tiny Terror, it was a little thing that made this Tiny thing even more terrorizing.

Thanks so much for the play Tiny Terror, it was a wonderful time.

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.

“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.

But….

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.

Sadistic, torturing bitch – that’s Me!

Aw, poor baby

Aw, poor baby

In the last line of john’s last post, he refers to me as a beautiful, sadistic, torturing bitch. I find that to be an enormous compliment, and I feel delighted that he sees me as that way. It IS how I see myself at times. It IS how I feel most of the time. And it DOES inspire more of the very same.

But my very first, initial response is to discredit the comment. My own personal saboteur (that bastard of a devil that sits on one’s shoulder and says we’re not good enough, not smart enough, and fills us with self doubt) can get in my way if I let it. That is often the struggle with me….not to let it. More and more, I am making that saboteur go away. I am chasing it away. And I am winning. The saboteur gets less attention and john gets more. It’s a “win-win” for everyone!

But this post is not about that. It is not about what I can’t do, but rather, what I can do. What I want to do. And how I delight in sadism.

I am sadistic.  I don’t have to be this way, but more and more, it grows within me. Sadism is different things to different people, but we can all pretty much agree on a generic definition of it. My pleasure is sexual sadism. I am also a big fan of one fingered sadism. More on that in a moment.

I am finding more and more that my sadism comes in short bursts. I would much prefer to engage in 20 little moments of sexual sadism throughout a day and night, than to have one big moment. At this point, I think my boys’ body is trained to a biological rhythm. I get up early, and always have. At around 7:30am, I come into the bedroom each morning to start the process of waking him. john is a slow riser. It takes him time to wake up….his systems slowing rising through the depths of slumber.

I am the opposite, completely. The minute my eyes open, I am alert and at high levels of functioning. Our best kink is the morning because of this.

I will go into the bedroom at 7:30am, and john will be sound asleep. I can tell by his body, his breathing, that he is no where near waking. And yet, as I peel back the covers to reveal is naked and collared body, his cock will be completely erect. Hard as a rock. This is not a “need to pee” hard on. It is a hard on because his body has become attuned to varying amounts of morning torture that I inflict upon him almost daily.

I am not typically creative with my moments of morning torture. I don’t feel I need to be. Generally, though, there is a lot of nipple biting or pinching, cock pumping and squeezing. Certainly ball torture. That’s among my most favorite things. I love how full his balls become after 50 or 70 or 90 days of not being allowed to cum. The days in between his being allowed to cum are long. The torture of his parts and bits is daily.

And the one finger thing?? I can inflict a lot of discomfort with one finger. My hands are my most favorite toys. I keep my nails long and manicured. Not polished, but shaped. My hands can bring pleasure to my boy, and I can also make him cry. There are times when I have a certain look upon my face, and I hold up one finger to him, and he’ll start to retreat and whimper. Poor boy…..this only feeds my fire…..don’t you know that??

I would like my boy to have other experiences with torture. I am working on that. He has his lover, the very talented Lady J, who helps greatly to contribute to his suffering when opportunity permits them to get together. But finding something closer to home would be good too. I am actively working on that. In addition to bringing both t and p along in how I want them to serve, I have this to look forward to as well. And….then….well…I have my own private, sexy, scary, ventures I am considering. More on that within a few days.

I have several sticks in the fire. john should be careful….those sticks will burn when they become pressed against him.

 

 

AAUGH!!!

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. ;)

Camp-Enchanted Forest

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I will share in this post the tale about an enchanted forest of sorts. You’ll see what I am taking about in a moment. And it’s all real, it’s all true.

My boy loves a particular forest event at camp. I lead him on collar and leash and he is naked, sometimes blindfolded and loaded with a backpack that holds our supplies. I lead him down a path, around  a small pond and to the entrance of the woods. We will pass many people as we make our trek, and they will smile, knowing that something special is about to happen to my boy. Sometimes I will make my blindfolded and naked boy wear a sign that says “touch me please”, and many will stop us along the way, hands petting my boy all over his body. Most hands are gentle and soothing. A few are not. But these few are usually the hands of the friends we have made, and they take greater freedoms with my boy because I give the silent, smiling nod of approval.

We enter the forest where perhaps thirty other participants have gathered. I choose a station for my boy. It could be a fallen log, a place under a dangling rope hanging from a sturdy branch. It doesn’t matter, it’s just a spot. I will secure him there, hands often cuffed, sometimes feet too. I am his monitor and protector, and sometimes I have company in this task. I am there to approve what can happen to my boy, and what cannot.

I take him to this place because it is a wonderful opportunity for him to have playtime with other adult males. Lovely, sexy adult males. Women too….just as adult, just as sexy. But here it is generally the males I am after, wanting their attentions on my boy.

My boy knows not what will happen to him. But generally, this is what happens: My boy will be bound, naked, collared and silent as he waits for what befalls him. I will sit nearby, my poster board sign encouraging certain behaviors, forbidding others. The silence is good. I do not want my boy to hear the negotiations that often take place. I want him to hear only his own breathing, the inaudible whispering of his caretakers, the warm breeze in the trees, and the moans of the others who are just like him…..naked and vulnerable.

Imagine being this way…..so fully unaware of what is going to happen, so exposed, so nervous. And yet happy. Aroused. Curious. Hopeful. Afraid. And completely safe, inside and out.

My boys knows that I am never far. That I guard him fiercely. That we do this because we enjoy it, and because it makes us happy to be able to live out fantasies such as these. There is no point in doing it if it doesn’t have a happy ending.

My boy waits, his arousing anxiety building, and then it starts. A man will approach. Perhaps two men together. Or a man and a woman. They are sometimes wearing leather, sometimes just jeans. A few are naked too. They will approach my unassuming boy, take a look, and then read my sign, learning what is ok, and what is not. Like a hungry person at a buffet, they will circle him, looking him over, deciding which are his tastiest parts. A hand will caress an ass cheek. Or lift a leg so that cock and balls are fully exposed.  My boy will feel fingers under his chin, tilting his head upwards so they can get a good look at him. It takes a few minutes, this dance. And all the while, john is left wondering what is about to happen to him.

It doesn’t really matter what happens to him. I will leave that up the imagination. I will let john share if john chooses to share. Just know that he gets to spend a couple of glorious hours as a human statue…. being petted, caressed, spanked, flogged, used and ignored while many others around him are experiencing their own similar fates. When I have decided that he has had enough, he is walked to a nearby blanket that I have brought, somewhere near that little pond, and we lay together in dappled sunlight, my pet pressed against his Mistress, a soft smile of deep contentment on his lovely face.

Constructing Tales

My boy has become accustomed to me telling him stories. Often, when we are fucking, I will whisper tales to him that are more or less fantasies we both individually and collectively share. Sometimes I will let stories unfold, vividly painting him in the picture, setting the stage, and adding enough detail so that he can envision the imagines created in my mind.

Other times, I will delve straight into the heart of the matter, surpassing all of the background and backstory, and I will put my energies into portraying him as the main character, the sexual slave who is at the complete will and mercy of a roomful of strangers who have gathered for the soul purpose of using my boy for their sexual pleasure.

I will be riding my boy, grinding down upon his cock, my hips slightly swaying so that I might swallow every possible inch of him, and I will start to talk. My voice ends up being more throaty than usual because I speak in hushed tones, wanting him to concentrate on hearing me, forcing him to remain quiet so he won’t miss any of the details. I will talk about his training, how one day there will be another in our lives who will exist for the exclusive purpose of helping me train my boy.

I envision this man……and yes, more often than not, the fantasy is of another man…..as a dominant counterpart who is more than happy to be aggressive and assertive with my boy as he instructs him on how to  pleasure and please. Sometimes my fantasies are of another submissive male that I have acquired, one who is dominant to my boy, but submissive to me. I will use them both as players for my fantasies and training objectives. Or, I will use one as punishment for another.

My boy has spilled his seed many times over the months, without consent, without permission. At times, he has been unable to control himself, and ends up spilling his mess despite strict orders not to. Training is required. Punishment must be summoned. And I thoroughly delight in the idea that another will be invited in to assist with those two things.

We are finally at the point where those fantasies have a real shot at becoming realities. Soon…..very soon…..the personal ad I have been constructing in my mind will become a reality, and I will begin my search for  the ideal confidant

7563557368_a16438f66b_zwho will be more than delighted to be an occasional but regular visitor in our home. This man will show up after work, in winter darkness, and will do as instructed. He will use my boy, his holes, his service, and he will be an instrumental part of the rewards and punishments. The stories that once thrived only in my mind will become realities, and they will breed new stories, real stories, and more fodder from which my boy will feed.

When I straddle my boy, and ride him as I did yesterday, and I instruct him to keep is mouth wide open (his cunt, as I call it), it is for a reason. Because that WILL happen one day. One day…..one night, really….I will be using my boy. He will be on his back, and I will be atop of him, taking my pleasure, and another will be using him mouth to take their pleasure too. My boy will be in service to me, never forgetting the hierarchy of whom he belongs, but servicing us both.

It begins to feel different when fantasy begins to become reality. I am a fairly monogamous person by nature, and I do not wish to change that. My love is for my boy. But that doesn’t mean that training and intimacies with others won’t take place. We have the opportunity to make the private whisperings of sexual utopias real, and I think that makes us lucky.

And so the careful search begins. I will not settle for less than what I want. The right person is out there…..I feel certain of this. It’s just a matter of finding them.

 

Good morning, indeed

She awoke before me, as is normal. I had put her to sleep last night reading to her from an author on literotica.com, a lovely place I’ve been perusing for well over a decade. She loves my voice and I love serving her this way. She pet my cock and balls during some of the time I read to her.

I awoke this morning and took on my typical morning duties. Still collared but without my glasses, I made the bed. I was just putting the wool blanket on the bed when she came in. “You’re up” she said with surprise.

“Yes, Ma’am” I replied. She was surprised I was up on my own without her coming in to wake me. I often snooze and she ends up being my alarm clock.

“Lay on the bed, head over the edge.” I knew what was coming. She dropped her robe and now naked, turned to present me her ass. I kissed her cheeks until she spread them open and planted herself on my tongue. I dutifully tongued her ass for her until she shifted and presented her pussy to me. She smothered me with it as well, though she didn’t appear to be in the mood to really smother me. She dismounted, walked around the bed and climbed up. “Do you think you’ll be a good fuck toy for me?”

She straddled my legs “Are you going to be able to fuck?”

She put my cock at her opening. “Are you going to be useful to me?”

She slid my cock into her, in and out a few times before she settled down with my cock fully inside her. “I hope you’re a useful fuck this morning, boy.”

And then she rode me. I had treated all her questions as rhetorical, as she had already had me stroking myself while I orally serviced her and my cock was already at the edge several times. I knew that I didn’t have a good fucking in me and that I would soon be struggling with my own physical need to explode and spill my cum. Replying to her questions would have sealed my arousal in my mind and further brought me to the edge.

“STOP!” I heaved…

She stopped. “What? Why? Aren’t you my fuck toy?”

“STOP!” I implored, pleading with her to stop using those words. She knows the power some words have on my sex, simply saying the right words in the right way when I’m at the edge can easily push me over and result in a rather large mess.

She slapped my face. Hard. I winced and instinctively put my hands up to defend my face. “Hands down!” she barked. I put my hands down and she slapped me again. “At your sides, you know how I want them”. This was not the first time we had been in this place. I knew what she wanted. When she wants my hands out of the way and she is riding me, I put them at my sides, she pulls her legs in while straddling me and I am imprisoned that way. I likely COULD get my hands free, but I dare not, else I would face harsher treatment.

She continued riding me, still verbally taunting me. “What are you?”

“Your fuck toy”

“And what do I want?”

“Fucking…” I queried.

“Good fucking. Hard fucking. I want to get off on this cock, this toy, this thing that I own. Who owns this cock?”

“You ma’am, you.”

“Yes, I do” she groaned as she settled down onto the cock and buried it deep within her.

“STOP!” I implored. She slapped me half a dozen times with both her hands. My face was sore and smarted. I was sure it was red.

“Why the FUCK do I have to stop?!” she smacked my face again.

She rode me more. She had put me, finally, into that place where she can fuck me. And that is what she did. She ground her hips against me, really getting a good fucking going. She did that for a few minutes really enjoying her ride, taking great pleasure from riding her toy, fucking her cock, using her boy.

“Now that’s a good toy. That’s a good fuck toy. Are you allowed to cum?”

“No Ma’am!” I replied.

“No, you’re not and you won’t for a long time.” I could hear her smiling. “Open that mouth. Open it. Open your eyes. Look up at me.” She put three fingers into my mouth and fucked my face with her hand. “This is how I want you once I find the right cock to visit us. Riding your cock while you suck off a beautiful cock. LOOK AT ME!” I had closed my eyes. She had taken me from that point of being able to withstand the fucking and pushed me further into danger. She knew what she was doing. She was done fucking and ready to climb off but she wanted to torture me again. She kept me like that, forcing me to open my eyes and my mouth wide for her while she alternatively rode me, slapped me and taunted me. She knew that talking about cock sucking would push me to the edge and she did it skillfully.

“STOP! PLEASE! STOP!” I almost shouted. She did.

She caressed my face, causing me to flinch at her touch. She smiled. She climbed off, brought her pussy back to my face for a little post coital cleaning and told me she was done. My cock throbbed. It probably dripped too.

Yes, a beautiful morning, indeed. The taste of her on my lips combined with my coffee was heady. I hate having to wash her scent from my face when I shower and brushing my teeth removes more of her scent. But I served her well last night and then this morning and that’s a very good thing. Everyone started their day with a smile.