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.

Boing!

Let’s face it, when you haven’t cum in 25 days the site of a good loaf of bread might make you sport wood in the grocery store, particularly when you have a lovely Mistress leading you around that store.

But this isn’t about the store or bread, it’s about arousal.

She typically is up before I am, just the way the schedules work. We  try not to occupy the same space at the same time in the house, as the bathroom and bedroom are far too small. When we do occupy the bedroom at the same time, one of us is usually already in the bed or I’m disrobing her for the night or we are sleeping.

So, she is up, getting dressed and instead of putting her panties into the hamper, she must have thought that all her coughing and sneezing overnight was sufficient to create a lovely aromatic pair of panties – the kind of panties that her boy should be smelling while he tries to snooze a little longer. And so that’s how I spent my snoozing this morning, her lovely and beautiful sea foam green panties pressed well against my nose to inhale all her scent. Normally we both sleep naked, but given her cold, she has been protecting the sheets and bed by wearing panties.

There I lay, her panties on my face, my cock throbbing hard and raising the sheets and quilt. She twice briefly touched me to check, but it wasn’t necessary, she knew I was aroused. She didn’t pump my cock, just grabbed it. And so, when she had left the room, I did. Oh I certainly did. A drowsy, aroused, horny, horny dog took his right hand, wrapped it around his thick cock and pumped it for all of 23 seconds before he had to stop and back down as neither she nor I wanted me to spill. And so I dozed back off briefly again only to wake again and do the same exact thing to myself – tease my own self, her panties still well placed on my face and my cock never having seemed to wane from its erect state, pumping furiously for only seconds before I stopped.

I wasn’t able to keep the panties on my face while I made the bed, but I did make the bed erect and naked, save for my collar which does not come off until the bed is made. Once the bed was made, I put my glasses on, dressed in some comfy clothes and went out into the house, my cock easily pointing the way to the coffee machine.

On denial

There are as many ways to enjoy tease, denial and chastity as there are people who enjoy practicing it. Some just want to be teased for a few minutes before they cum. Some want to be teased a denied and never expect to cum ever again. Some want to have their cock locked up for no more than an hour or three, maybe a work shift, and some want rivets used in their chastity device. Even padlocks with hidden keys are not enough for them. I can understand that mindset. I don’t practice it, but I understand it.

A key nestled in a home spot

A key nestled in a home spot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I enjoy that Chloe can tell people that she keeps me locked. I’m kind of an exhibitionist chastity fan. I also have the fantasy that Chloe wears the key around her neck and she’s asked by someone what it’s for. And she tells them. She’s 100% honest and tells the person “It’s for my cock and balls. Isn’t that right, pup?” she asks as her hand grazes the front of my pants and I nod, blush and mutter “Yes, Ma’am”. Or if I’m not with her, she has a conversation with this person about the key and what it is for… all referencing that I am elsewhere, locked and not able to get into any trouble either by myself or with someone else. “Oh he can masturbate, but not without supervision. And he’s not allowed to cum, of course. Not without lots of begging and teasing.” This is a very strong thread that pervades chastity fiction and fantasy. Continue reading

Renewed blog, renewed energy

I’m not even sure that Chloe knows that I’ve rejuvenated the blog after a long hiatus. But she was very much in possession of her pup this morning. While I did get to sleep in a bit this morning, as is normal, she came to wake me after her shower, first smothering me, then riding me and then spanking my ass just below my balls while I was laying on my back. She also spent some time smacking my balls as well. This angle of ass spanking was a new thing and was more intense than one might think, but it did keep me laying in a very vulnerable state while she beat me. She also warned me that we were alone this weekend and I should expect more and greater punishments and pleasures throughout the weekend. I should also expect that I’ll be chaste for a long time and that my recent spate of ejaculation has ended.

So, with the renewed vigor of the blog itself, my renewed interest in writing in it, the fact that it’s NaNoWriMo (and for some, NaNoBlogMo it seems) and we’re finally moved in together and really “making a home” together… many things are happening. It should be an eventful and playful weekend and I expect to find that I’ll be a bit battered and bruised by the time I get back to work again on Monday.