Thursday, August 31, 2006

Portable Thinking Pond

Mistress doesn't have to spank me to keep me under her thumb. Like a good parent, she has many tools at her fingertips.

I just had lunch with Mistress Laura. She and I have lunch together about once a week on most weeks. She works at a local college and I work at a software company, so I usually meet her at the cafeteria on campus. There are usually lots of eighteen and nineteen year olds milling around.

I arrived late and was immediately flustered by her good natured ribbing.

"According to my watch, you are two minutes late," were the first words out of her mouth.

It was obvious that she was just teasing, but I actually blushed and stammered a lame "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"It's okay, my boy. You didn't speed did you?" She asked me.

"No. Of course not. I don't speed," I replied, still feeling off balance.

I am not allowed to speed. Before she laid out that rule, I used to speed around town incessantly, and would get about one speeding ticket per year. Now she tells me that if I ever get a speeding ticket again, Her penalty will be a lot worse than the money and time that the state will extract from me. I have no desire to find out.

It seems to me that she is increasingly comfortable with her authority over me. At lunch, Mistress Laura had me go and get the food while she sat at a table and read, and when I returned, we started to chat. In the middle of the conversation, she said:

"Next Sunday, you are coming with me to a work related volunteering dinner."

"Yes Ma'am" was all I said, but her tone of voice and her certainty went directly to my groin. It was slightly embarrassing.

Like I stated before, we were at a college cafeteria, and there are many eighteen and nineteen year olds running around. Also, at this time of year, they are often scantily clad. One particularly happy and bouncy girl with long blond hair, wearing shorts and a pink little top went cruising by our table. I couldn't help it. I ogled for a split second too long, only to hear:

"Look down, boy. Look down at the table."

I complied, blushing again, my ears red from being caught. I felt like the kid with his hands in the cookie jar, when Mom turns on the kitchen lights in the middle of the night and says "Aha! Caught you, you little brat!"

Then, Mistress went on:

"Put your forearms together in front of you and put your forehead on your arms, and slowly count to ten to yourself."

I put my hands in front of me and put my head on my forearms as she commanded, feeling silly and embarrassed.

"This is your portable thinking pond," She continued in her soothing voice, referring to a Super Nanny episode that we had watched some weeks back; the thinking pond was a place for the kid to sit and think (basically, a "time out").

"Little boys need to be guided, don't they?" She continued to murmur as I silently counted. "They need the help of a strong woman to at least act like gentlemen in public... Isn't that right, my little boy?"

I could finally look up, embarrassed and completely turned on.

"Yes, Mistress."

She can make me feel so small and so ready to please with a look, a touch, a slight change in her voice tone, or by simply looking at me "too long".
Continue reading: Portable Thinking Pond

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Poll: Your sexual and power self-identification

A simple poll about you. I know that orientation is a continuum, and these categories are somewhat limited, but please answer the poll in the side bar with the one answer that most closely matches what you think.
I'm curious to see the results of this poll over time.
Continue reading: Poll: Your sexual and power self-identification

Ordinary Female Led Existence

Today has been quiet. Even with being allowed release (or maybe painfully forced) this last weekend, there is a background growing hum of desire focused on Mistress Laura.

I was reflecting today on how connected I feel to my Wife, by doing things that I would have rejected in my marriage before it became female led.

For example, in the ordinary course of a day, I get up earlier than my Mistress Wife and I make her breakfast to order. While she eats, I made the bed and clean the kitchen. Sometimes I do a bit of vacuuming. Then I get dressed for work. Most days, I chauffeur her to her work on the way to mine. Sometimes she uses the drive to talk, and other times she simply rests. It's her choice and I love being with her either way. After work, I give her footrubs, fetch her drinks, cook, clean and do the laundry.

In my current mindset, I feel good about all of these routines. By taking care of her in this way, making her life easier, showing her my tangible love, I actually feel closer to her. I do not view love as a quid pro quo, "What can I give so I can get something I want?" Rather, I love the feeling of the outpouring of ordinary everyday little things that I get to do for her.

In my pre-FLR mindset, my attitude would have been "Why shouldn't she do these things for me?" or "What am I going to get out of this?" or, at best, an insistence that I could do this type of service some of the time (maybe on special occasions like anniversaries or birthdays), but it's too unreasonable to expect me to always give like this.

I was independent and alone. Now, I feel like I am intertwined with my Wife; interdependent, loved, loving.

Another paradox: I actually love the "unfairness", the unbending and high expectations. I want to do my best to please her and if it involves some work and perhaps even some suffering, so much the better.

Recently, when I am not with my Wife, I actually ache to be with her. I miss her. Not since the early days of dating her have I actually felt that feeling of longing.

Since she is in charge of if, when or how we have sex (or play), I am perpetually teased, perpetually wanting, always chasing my Mistress, wanting to please her.

This is romance; this is an ordinary female led existence.
Continue reading: Ordinary Female Led Existence

My wonderfully cruel Mistress (Part 2)

I wrote in the first installment about how Mistress Laura used her scheduled discipline session to make her point about cleaning the toilet bowl properly. The next day, Saturday, after doing my usual chores, I was ready to tackle that unfinished business.

Following her instructions, I got myself dressed up in a frilly black top with spaghetti straps, the matching panties, high heeled shoes, and Mistress Laura's leather collar and went to check in with her before beginning the task of cleaning the toilet bowl. She was sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up at the approaching clickety-clack of my high heels and smiled.

"Those heels are even better than a cow bell," she snickered, putting her book down to take a closer look. "Look at you, you are so cute... And with that cock so nice and hard like that... Turn around." I turned in a full circle for her.

She made me spread my legs wider and bend down, with my ass covered by the soft black panties, pointed towards her. She then slowly slid the panties down so they hung midway down my around my thighs. I moaned, and she softly touched my ass and said "Good girl..."

"You make a very nice picture," she stroked the backs of my thighs and pulled the panties back up. Every touch went straight to my penis, increasing my arousal. She then took a couple of hair ties and put my long hair into two pigtails.

"Now, slaveboy, get me my purse." I straightened up and went as quickly as I could and retrieved her purse.

She opened it and took out four wooden clothespins. I had no idea that she kept them there. I think she likes the idea of being able to inflict pain on me wherever we are, by pulling me into a quiet corner, even in the middle of a restaurant.

"Pull up your top, my boy," she said and I knew what was next, of course. She pinched one nipple and placed the clothespin on it, then the other, and she had me pull the top back down over both clothespins. My nipples were hurting a lot at this point, and I was breathing slowly and deliberately.

"Now, pull down your panties, you lazy bitch," She smiled at me sweetly as I pulled down the panties, releasing my hard cock; the head of it was drizzling precum. She grabbed my balls and pulled down the scrotum on each testicle, attaching one clothespin to each. Again, the pain was intense but not as bad as my throbbing nipples. "Now pull them back up."

"Here's what you're going to do now, my little bitch," She said as she settled back down on the couch to read her book again. "You're going to get your cleaning supplies and clean that toilet bowl completely spotless. When you are done, you will get me so I can inspect your work. If it's not done to my satisfaction, you will do it again. Only after it is complete, will I remove the clothespins. Do you understand?"

My scrotum was hurting, and the pain seemed to intensify as I moved and the fabric of the lingerie items brushed against the clothespins. I nodded and said "Yes Mistress."

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and went back to reading.

I got busy. Ignoring the pain was hard at times. I took the bucket of brushes, the toilet bowl cleaner, and the yellow rubber gloves. Walking slowly so as to not jar the clothespins too much, I made it back to the bathroom of the "Mistress suite".

Kneeling before the toilet bowl, with my yellow gloves and brushes, I got to work. The whole time, my nipples and ball sac throbbed with pain while my hard cock oozed precum. I kept my mind focused on the task. The task took about twenty minutes to complete. While I was cleaning, I kept telling myself that the pain will end soon.

When I finished, with me still kneeling, Mistress Laura inspected my work.

"Good. Much better, slaveboy. Now, put away your cleaning supplies and come onto the bed so I can take off those nasty clothespins."

I hurried off and came back, still in high heels. She had me take off the high heels and get on the bed on my back (mercifully!), with my arms above my head. Then she started toying with me again.

"Okay, my boy..." She pulled up the top, revealing my mangled nipples and flicked the clothespins, causing me to wince. "What have you learned?"

"I should make sure the toilet bowl is clean every time, Mistress," I managed to get out between gasps and moans of pain.

"Good boy." She kissed me on the lips then and told me "This is going to hurt. I want you to play with yourself, but do not come without my permission."

I stroked myself, the clothespins on my balls bouncing around, producing an odd juxtaposition of sharp pain mixed with waves of pleasure. Then, without much warning, Mistress Laura removed one of the clothespins from my balls. "Ouch!!!" I cried out.

"Did that hurt? That makes Mommy horny," Mistress brushed my lips with hers and told me to keep stroking, but make sure not to come.

She repeated the process with the second clothespin attached to my balls. She then grabbed both balls and squeezed, increasing the pain... "You're going to remember to do a good job with the cleaning, aren't you?" She smiled and kissed me on the lips again. I almost went over the edge, with her kiss and her obvious enjoyment of torturing me, impelling me towards the brink of a fantastic orgasm, but I managed to hold on.

She removed the first clothespin from my nipple while looking into my eyes.

Before removing the last clothespin, she paused, "Can you come while experiencing the pain?"

I was sure I could, so I nodded.

"When I remove this last one, you have permission to come. I want you to come as soon as I hurt you..." and with that, she squeezed the clothespin for a few seconds, before releasing my reddened and mashed nipple.

Pain emanated in throbbing waves from the area. My head swam and my pleasure peaked at once. I felt myself coming and I vaguely recall Mistress Laura saying things like "Good boy... That's good... I know that really hurt." I came all over my chest and belly.

Mistress Laura then kissed me on the lips slowly and got up, throwing a towel at me.

"Clean yourself up. If I do this again, I probably won't have you come. Count yourself lucky." Her eyes smiled at me even as her tone was all business.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you." I lay there for a minute, enjoying the sensations. I felt wonderfully owned and well used... Using the towel, I wiped myself clean and slid off the bed, kneeling at my wonderfully cruel Mistress's feet.

Our eyes met for a second, she looking down at me, and I slowly kissed one foot and then the other.

"I love you, Mistress," I said.

"I love you too, my boy," was her reply, with her hand on my head, petting me slowly.
Continue reading: My wonderfully cruel Mistress (Part 2)

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

They just don't get it

Over the weekend, while I was busy having lots of fun with Mistress Laura, I got a couple of funny comments to my previous posts. I've reproduced them below, with my responses.

To my "Fantasy: Serving Multiple Women" post, some anonymous person wrote:
"You are sick."
This is probably true in some sense, in that my sexuality is probably more unconventional than that of the writer of the above comment. I am, in that loose sense, a "deviant" (outside the norm). In the strictest sense, however, I probably have what is called in psychological jargon "optional paraphilia":
Clinicians often distinguish between optional, preferred and exclusive paraphilias, though the terminology is not completely standardized. An "optional" paraphilia is an alternate route to sexual arousal. For example, a man with otherwise unremarkable sexual interests might sometimes seek or enhance sexual arousal by wearing women's underwear. In preferred paraphilias, a person prefers the paraphilia to conventional sexual activities, but also engages in conventional sexual activities. For example, a man might prefer to wear women's underwear during sexual activity, whenever possible. In exclusive paraphilias, a person is unable to become sexually aroused in the absence of the paraphilia.
To my post "A lesson learned: using others' presence as a shield", an anonymous person (probably the same incisive observer who informed me of my mental illness), wrote:
"I have a question? [sic] What happened to the man inside you? It sounds like you are more of a wimp than a man. I bet you are headed for a cuckolding experience in the near future. I wouldn't blane [sic] her if she did cuckold you, after all you are not a man rather a little mouse of a man."
This is an interesting comment. The writer obviously reads Fem Dom sites and is familiar with the "cuckolding" terminology. One has to wonder why they are so fascinated with female domination? I think it's probably because they are fascinated and secretly crave to be dominated by a woman.

In terms of my own manliness, I am a few months away from being a black belt in Karate, I am the father of two almost grown children, own a successful business, and am in a romantic blissful relationship with a fantastic woman. My relationship, even if unconventional, is buzzing with love and passion all of the time. I have given my Mistress Wife the reins to our relationship, not because I am a wimp, but out of a choice; this was an attempt to create a different dynamic: to recreate the passion of early romantic infatuation. I believe I am succeeding.

Finally, in response to "My birthday is tomorrow! Going shopping", probably the same person wrote:
"I am curious, has she purchased a dog dish for you yet?"
I'm glad you asked.

No, she has not yet purchased a dog dish for me. However, she did get me a doggy bed that she makes me sleep on some nights.

We go through periods where she makes me explicitly ask to join her on her bed. Some nights, she makes me sleep on my doggy bed at the foot of the bed. Frankly, I enjoy those nights, because when she finally lets me sleep with her again, I love the closeness so much more.

Thanks for asking. I certainly appreciate your comments, and wish you the same happiness in your relationships that living with my Mistress brings to my life.
Continue reading: They just don't get it

Monday, August 28, 2006

My wonderfully cruel Mistress

My Mistress has not shown a propensity for sadism. Till now.

On Friday afternoon, she sent me her list of chores for the weekend.
  • When you get home, check that we have no visitors, then shave, shower, get into a "pretty outfit" of your choice and present yourself to me.
  • Then, do a thorough cleaning of the "Mistress Bedroom"
  • After you are done, show me your work so I can critique it.
  • When you are done with all this, we will have your attitude adjustment session.
Just reading the list brought about a desired Pavlovian response in me, as my breathing got shallower and a warm glow entered my body.

As seen in this representative sample, Mistress subjects me to periodic attitude adjustment sessions, designed to focus my attention on serving her better; these sessions involve spanking with a leather paddle or caning. This is one of the tools that we implemented early on, along with orgasm control, to cement her control over me. The sessions generally happen on a weekly basis, and on a moment's notice at her discretion.

Her "pretty outfit" remark refers to the outfits that she bought for me on our recent trip to the mall, complete with her high heeled shoes.

When I got home, I checked that we had no visitors, then went about following her instructions to the letter. She was working in her office, as usual, and I quickly shaved, showered, and selected a sexy black top and matching black panties with lace trim. I dressed myself in the lingerie, put on the high heeled shoes, and walked over to my Mistress Wife.

"Very nice. Good boy," she looked me up and down and had me turn all around for her. Of course, I was already very aroused. "You look like such a cute little slavegirl." She then gave me a kiss and a pat on the ass and told me to get to work as she turned back to what she was working on.

So, with heels clicking against the floors, I went about my housework. I vacuumed, emptied garbage cans, changed the bed sheets, and cleaned the bathroom that is attached to the "Mistress suite" in the house. The whole time, my cock was fully erect.

As a side note: I look forward to each of my chore sessions, even as I intellectually understand that I am being the subject of an overt use of Skinnerian operant conditioning; deliberately associating
doing housework for my Mistress with sexual arousal by the use of my kinks. I am a willing experimental subject. :-)

When I was done with the cleaning, I put away my supplies and again went to Mistress Laura and reported my progress.

"Let's take a look," she walked with me following into the Mistress bedroom and looked around.

"Very nice. Good job on the vacuuming... Let's go into the bathroom," she motioned for me to follow closer.

"Look at the toilet bowl, slaveboy," she pointed out what she wanted me to see. I already knew. "That is not clean, is it?"

"No, Mistress," I simply acknowledged. The last couple of times, I had not done the full toilet bowl cleaning routine, so there was a dirty ring in the edges of the bowl, at the water level.

She stated that now it was time for my attitude adjustment session and that I should take off the high heels and lay everything out. I went to Mistress's toy chest and retrieved her cane and paddle, placing them on the bed. She had me get on the bed on all fours, then she pulled down the silky panties I was wearing so they were down at my knees.

"Now, slaveboy," she spoke slowly, as she softly ran the cane across my bottom, "is there anything that you need to be punished for?"

She often starts my sessions in this way, and I have found that if I "confess" to something that I have done, or talk about an attitude that should change, my punishment is less severe than if she has to point it out. So I usually wrack my brains.

"I was a bit argumentative with you a few times this week," I said.

"Yes, that's true. Anything else?" she ran her fingernails softly against the backs of my thighs, making me shiver with excitement.

"Nothing else that I can think of, Mistress... Except for the toilet bowl."

She listed a few minor infractions that she had noted throughout the week and gave me a few whacks with the cane, saving the best for last. :-)

"Now, my boy..." She paused, "To get back to your cleaning job. I think you need to be much more careful about your work.... So, let's see... I think I'm going to have to give you 30 with the cane."

I was both turned on and scared. Something in her tone made it clear to me that she was serious.

The first twenty were a normal type of caning, with warmup and merciful pauses. Then, she turned downright nasty...

"I think I've been more than nice so far... So, for the next ten, I'm going to tell you how I really feel about this..."

"You should treat the toilet bowl like your Queen's throne..." WHAP!!! "You weren't doing a very good job of that, were you?!!" WHAP!!! "Now, you lazy little bitch..." WHAP!!! "If I ever see you doing a job..." WHAP!!! "... like that again ..." WHAP!!! "I'm going to have to have you clean it..." WHAP!!! "With your tongue..." WHAP!!! "Little lazy bitch!" WHAP!!! "Do I make myself clear?" WHAP!!! "My fucking bitch slavegirl... Do you understand me?" WHAP!!! She continued hitting me a few more times, "just because".

The pain shot through the roof during this last few minutes and my mind simply went elsewhere... To my amazement, I found myself getting very hard and even slipped into a space that was close to orgasming at her harsh treatment, and she herself was very aroused. After a moment, I said: "Thank you Mistress. I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

"That's not the end of it, slaveboy. Tomorrow, you're going to make some time and get dressed up all pretty again and clean the toilet bowl right. But before you begin, come check in with me," she informed me. I knew then that she would continue her torture at that time.

To be continued...
Continue reading: My wonderfully cruel Mistress

Friday, August 25, 2006

Learning to heel

To prepare me for my birthday shopping trip at the mall, Mistress had me naked and kneeling before her.

"First of all, even though this is for your birthday, this is primarily for me to have fun. Do you understand, my boy?"

I nodded. Of course, anything that makes her happy makes me happy. My joy stick started to point upwards.

"You tend to go too fast. For this trip, you are going to walk a half a step behind me. If you walk in front, I will silently count the seconds and beat you accordingly." She smiled at my rock hard penis.

She continued: "We will go at my pace. You are to make interested comments when I ask you your opinion about something. You will carry my purchases and deal with the cashiers. I will probably buy some things for you, but I may not, so be prepared for either possibility."

I nodded. She then had me get up and get dressed and drive her to a local mall. I held the door open for her as she stepped out of the car, and we went for a leisurely stroll through the mall.

While there, she let me hold her hand, but she clearly led, as I followed a half step behind and to her left. This is the exact same spot that her dog occupies when Mistress Laura walks her.

We went and shopped for some clothes for her, then she led me into the women's lingerie section of one of the department stores. She picked out a few outfits, which she held up to my waist or my back for size, and then had me buy my new clothes. I was very embarassed as I went up to the cashier and bought the panties and tops, but I hid it completely.

Only twice did I forget my place. The first time, she cleared her throat and I quickly fell back into position. The second time was towards the end. That time she just let me hang, till I looked back and she was a few steps behind. She just smiled. I blushed and fell back into line.

Afterwards, she asked me if I had fun. "Yes Ma'am, I did," I said, blushing.

"You were a good boy. You are learning to heel," she said. That made me very happy.

Since then, we've had some conversations about my eagerness to try new D/s activities; she wants to take things slow, and while I am intellectually fine with that, the little boy in me wants to try everything now!! From reading other blogs, this seems to be a common problem.

Today, I was reflecting on the shopping trip and the instructions that Mistress Laura gave me.

I need to learn to heel and follow her in a much deeper way.
Continue reading: Learning to heel

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

The way to a slave's heart is though his fantasies

Richard (Polyfetishist) wrote in "My Commonplace Masochistic Fantasies" about a series of images and fantasies that he masturabtes to.

He writes that his fantasies are "just as banal and ill-proportioned as any other man with slavish and masochistic desires" and goes on to list some common scenarios that turn him on. Interestingly, reading his list was like taking a peek into my own dark closet of extreme BDSM fantasies. These particular darkly tinged erotic scenes are extreme, but they are all interesting in that they point to some fairly universal themes.

Richard writes that his strongest fantasy is to be in a TPE relationship (total power exchange), and it is mine as well. I often think of my marriage as such a relationship. I refer to my wedding ring (which I am required to wear, while Mistress Laura can choose to wear it or not) as my "mini collar".

In my fantasy, my Mistress is cold, distant, only expecting service, special forms of address, postures and gestures, without regard to how any of it makes me feel. There is no warmth or love here, only complete ownership and loss of control. Here is a representative snippet of my fantasy:

My owner rarely touches me. I long for any physical sign of affection from her. I am naked, chained by my ankle to the cold floor of the shower stall, waiting for her to start the morning routine.

She walks in on me suddenly and I am late in getting into "the position" --- kneeling, both hands interlaced behind my head, my mouth open in an exaggerated way.

She grabs my hair roughly and forces my face to the floor, causing me to lose my balance.

"You are to anticpate my arrival, slave. When I come in here, you are to already be waiting in the position."

She pinches and crushes my balls savagely and I cry out. "Oh, poor baby," she says with a sneer, then she walks into the shower and squats over my face. Her warm spray of piss hits my face and hair and I can not escape the pungent odor. She pinches my nipples till I cry out in pain. She has me hold my buttcheeks open while she quickly inserts and locks in place my buttplug for today.

Walking back out of the stall, she unlocks my ankle chain and throws a towel at me, "Towel yourself dry, slave. You have your laundry and cooking, and I want the garage completely cleaned today. Serve me my breakfast in half an hour, sharp!"

I am forced to go about my day with the smell of her urine all over me, wearing nothing but the leather straps that hold the buttplug in place. I hear her taking a shower as I cook her breakfast.


The real life Mistress Laura is nothing like the stern, unbending, sadistic monster of my fantasy life. She is warm and loving, inherenently careful, and concerned with my well being. However, since she knows of my desires, she can use my fantasies in everyday little scenes by bringing forth some of the feeling of the unbending and harsh Mistress. This is an interaction that actually happened early on:

"Slaveboy, this toast is cold. Come here," she says, motioning for me to kneel.

Twisting my nipples savagely, she lectures me about how I have been lax and that I need more training in even simple things like making her toast. I wince in pain and I listen, my hands behind my head, kneeling by her side.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," I manage to say a couple of times.

"Kiss my feet now, and go make me a proper slice of toast!" she commands. I quickly do as she says, kissing her feet and running to the kitchen to make her toast. When the toast is done, I quickly butter it and run back to her.

"Mmmm... good boy. Much better!" she strokes my still sore nipples lovingly and I moan in unexpected pleasure.


She has not had a cold slice of toast since then. :-)
Continue reading: The way to a slave's heart is though his fantasies

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The things she says that turn me on

There are a few everyday things that Mistress says or does that turn me on. We are not talking about anything explicitly erotic or pornographic.

"Come here."

Even said in the most casual way, when she commands me, my heart starts to beat a bit faster.

"I am amazingly guilt free about prioritizing MY needs first."

The confidence and lack of over-concern for me and my needs is very sexy.

"Good boy."

This phrase warms my heart and has me start to smile almost instantly.

"You did a good job."

Usually accompanied with a pat on the butt after a day of chores. If I am starting to get tired and Mistress comes up to me and hugs me and says "You're doing a good job." I suddenly find my strength again.

"I know what I want to do. What is your opinion?"

The voice tone is hard to convey in print, but the presupposition is that she could just do what she wants to do, without asking me, but she wants to have the information about my preference too.

"Let's go over the menu for the week."

This is an interesting phrase, which for me means the beginning of planning our food menus and shopping for the coming week. One would think that such a chore-laden utterance would trigger dread, but it actually makes me happy.

Continue reading: The things she says that turn me on

Monday, August 21, 2006

Party shoes, limits, and taboos

I’m in a nine year marriage that has turned into a FemDom marriage in the last nine months or so. Overnight, I went from being the steoretypical husband (working long hours, somewhat emotionally unavailable, not lifting a finger to help with house chores, being a bit of an absent Dad with the kids) to being Her attentive, submissive, controlled pet/slave. Now Mistress is in control of everything in our lives and has me doing all the housework while she attends to other matters.

At the beginning, we talked about some “hard limits”. Crossdressing and sissification were not things that I was interested in at all.

Well, a couple of weekends ago was a typical weekend in my life with Mistress Laura. She had me get up early and get her breakfast, which I am required to serve her in the nude. Then, with me kneeling on the floor, she tells me about the chores we are going to do. One of these chores was cleaning out her office closet.

When going through the boxes, Mistress spied a pair of cute black high heeled shoes.

“I’m probably going to donate those,” she said and had me set them aside.

A moment later, “Well, on second thought… Put them on. I want to see wht they look like on you,” she commanded playfully.

I dutifully slipped on the women’s shoes and stood, awkwardly, my feet apart, my calves bulging, and my cock completely rigid in front of me.

“Oh my,” Mistress purred, stroking my cock which was already producing precum, “You like this. What a slutty boy you are!”

I was embarassed, blushing and humiliated and my stomach was a jumble with the realization that Mistress could make me do anything for her, and that if she enjoyed it, I would have an uncontrollable urge to do it for her.

She had me walk around with the shoes, clinking against the hardwood floors, till she was convinced that I was not going to twist my ankle and hurt myself. I spent the rest of the afternoon vaccuuming, naked, except in her high heels, completely aroused and under her spell. Every once in a while, she would walk over and twist my nipple, stroke my cock, and tell me “you are such a good girl.”

Now, I have been thinking about what made this experience so erotically charged. I don’t feel any less a man than before, but I feel… more… vulnerable, exposed.

Since then, even when I wear clothes around my Mistress, I feel naked in her eyes. She has seen me in ways that no one else has and she has made me cross these “taboos”.

Since then, she has talked about dressing me in some nice silky women’s underwear and a matching bra, having me wear my “party shoes” (that’s what she calls them now) and putting my long hair in braids or pigtails for my next vaccuming session. I know it turns her on and that turns me on so very much.

I can’t believe that I am looking forward to being my Mistress’s little slavegirl.

At the same time, I’ve thought about this: What if I could put someone else in her place… say… a professional Dominatrix… Then all these feelings vanish in an instant and I feel nothing but abject shame (not in a good way). So, for me, these experiences and feelings can only exist in my loving relationship with my Mistress/wife.

It seems to me that some FemDom activities (such as forced crossdressing and sissification) are not so much about demasculinizing the man, so much as breaking down barriers, which can make the man more vulnerable and open (and dependant!) on the woman. Some of these barriers and boundaries are around gender roles and expectations.
Continue reading: Party shoes, limits, and taboos

A service oriented birthday

My birthday was on Saturday. Mistress had informed me that she would take me shopping with her to the mall. I didn't know what to expect, but I was excited.

That morning, she had woken me up to get her some orange juice, had an emotional conversation, teased me, then fell back asleep, her body entwined with mine.

Some time later, I was in the kitchen, wearing only an apron, cooking her breakfast. I brought the plate of eggs and toast to her in her office, curtsied (by the way, I feel ridiculous doing this), and knelt down beside her, waiting for my marching orders. She petted my head absently, enjoyed her breakfast, read her email, and we started talking about weekend plans.

"I think that today's schedule might be too full. You have some chores to do, the kids have some things they need to finish. Will you be okay with postponing our shopping trip?" Mistress Laura asked, looking down at my face.

"Yes, Mistress, I'm fine with that. Whatever works best for you." I was mature about it, though a bit disappointed. I decided right then that I would simply sublimate my sexual and emotional energies and frustration and be the best house-boy my Mistress Wife could ever have!

So, when I was dismissed, I went about my chores with gusto. I wanted to do all the laundry, vaccuuming, kid related errands, and bake some deserts for a potluck related to my wife's work that she was taking us to later in the evening.

As I did my work, I was thinking about the fact that even on my birthday, my happiness was not the focus and that I was working extra hard to make my Wife's life easier. This thought started playing in my mind like a loop, "My birthday is devoted to making my Mistress happy... It's not about me... It's about accepting the gift of her control and humbly serving her."

I was in a submissive fog, happily doing housework.

I took a break to check on the cookies I was making in the oven (they looked good!) and I continually checked in with Mistress, who had me refill her soda or get her snacks as she did her paperwork in her office. I was very happy. Domestic bliss.

In the middle of it all, Mistress had me reserve a part of my cleaning chores for later: She said that I should vaccuum her bedroom and mop and treat the hardwood floors in the kitchen area later, when I could be "dressed for the job".

Now I was so looking forward to doing that for her. She was referring to the special outfit that she has me dressed in to do my housechores when the kids are otherwise occupied elsewhere. On those occasions, she has me put on a girly flowery sheer summer dress, high heeled shoes and put my hair in pigtails. I do vaccumming or cleaning the bathroom or other domestic chores in this outfit, punctuated by serving Mistress in whatever ways she needs while she relaxes. She sometimes just watches me do my work in this state, telling me that I am such a "good slavegirl". Just thinking about this gets me excited. I am such a slut!

In thinking about this part of my routine, I am struck by this observation: My Wife has actually managed to make the drudgery of housework into a reward for her slutty house-husband who just loves to please her. In fact, since she had me hold a part of my work (cleaning the kitchen floor), I have fantasized about being dressed in the high heeled shoes and girly clothing, with my hair in pigtails, on my knees, cleaning the hardwood floors by hand while Mistress watches and says things like "What a good little maid you make... You missed a spot, go back there... You like doing this, don't you?"

Later in the afternoon, I folded all the dry laundry and put them away in Mistress's dresser. I packed up the fresly baked cookies, dressed mysekf in a nice but casual outfit that she approved, and Mistress and I were off to the potluck and party with her professional colleagues.

The party was fun and ran late. I was at her side constantly, socializing with her friends, getting her drinks and food, and every once in a while, she would lean over and whisper little things like "You really worked hard today, slaveboy. Happy birthday."

This was probably one of the best birthdays I have had. I don't really want to be the center of attention. I would rather sit in the background, making things happen, and having fun with friends and family.

Later, I will post about how the shopping trip went, and about my birthday caning, which happened yesterday, on the day after my birthday.

I am in love.

Continue reading: A service oriented birthday

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Even on my birthday, pleasing her comes first

It has been a couple of weeks since I have had any release. Mistress Laura has gotten quite good at keeping me on edge for her amusement; she has let me satisfy her with my tongue a few times, and she has me giving her massages and footrubs on a daily basis. I'm not complaining; sometimes I even prefer being denied to being granted an orgasm.

Yesterday was my birthday.

Mistress woke me up very early to go fetch some orange juice. I came back with the glass of OJ, with ice and a straw, and knelt by the side of the bed. She drank a bit, told me to set the glass down, and to crawl into the bed and spoon her from behind. So, I got on the bed and pressed the length on my naked body gently into hers. My cock was rock hard and nestled against the nuderwear covering her behind and she deliberately wiggled and pushed back into me. I moaned but stayed still.

Mistress Laura then started to talk about some uncomfortable feelings that she has had, issues related to her and her family, life goals, emotional issues, and recounted some unpleasant (almost nightmarish) dream she had been having, etc. I listened, and offered no solutions, only speaking when she asked a direct question. She would wiggle her ass into me from time to time, and my penis would spring back to full attention.

This whole scene was torturous. Please snap a few clothespins onto my nipples and cock instead!!! Before we swapped roles, I would not have been able to listen to this sort of talk without getting into a monstrous fight with my wife; mostly due to women and men's differing styles of communication. I would have pushed some agenda, told her how I would solve this, tell her that it was "her issue, not mine." or even worse that "it's not important" and a plethora of other non-relating techniques learned over four decades.

Here, I was just listening. To be completely accurate, I was forced to listen. I wanted to please my Mistress, who is the source of all pleasure and pain. I was naked in her bed. I am her property and my number one job is to make her happy.

After a few minutes, she had me roll over onto my other side and she spooned me from behind. She grabbed my cock and balls with her hand and she thrust her hips into my ass as she pulled me close. Again, I moaned and I imagined her fucking my ass with a strap-on, but I stayed still.

She then put one leg over me, pressing her weight onto me (which I love) and fell asleep like that: her hand wrapped loosely around my shaft, her fingers lightly touching my balls, her body clothed in pajamas nestled into my bare ass. I felt peaceful and happy.
Continue reading: Even on my birthday, pleasing her comes first

Friday, August 18, 2006

My birthday is tomorrow! Going shopping...

Often, it's the small things that make a big difference.

At dinner tonight, Mistress told my kids that she will be taking me to the mall tomorrow for my birthday. She had not discussed this with me beforehand.

The very way that she casually mentioned our plans, as if they are simply set in stone, made me very happy. I began to look forward immediately to whatever she had in mind for us.

What's funny is that before she took the reins, I was one of those guys that hates to shop. I was a terrible companion at stores, always tense and in a hurry, wondering what I was missing --- as if anything could be more important than the gift of my time and presence with Her.

Now, I anticipate some fun time walking around the mall with my Mistress/Wife, holding her purchases, making small talk, relaxed and happy. If Mistress wants me to sit somewhere and wait for her, I will happily do it. If she wants me to hold her purse and stand oustide a dressing room while she tries on outfits, I will happily do it.

Thinking about her casual comment at dinner tonight got me thinking about all the other "small things"; the subtle gestures, the taking of liberties that no longer seem like liberties.

For example:
  • At dinner, she often reaches over and takes a bite off my plate. It's Her way of letting me know that it's all hers...
  • She made me switch our closets in the master bedroom (which we now refer to as the Mistress bedroom) so that she has the large double door closet and I have the one around the corner.
  • She randomly switches which side of the bed she has me sleeping on; and sometimes she has me sleep on the floor on a large puppy-bed. She says that I should never get too attached to any particular routine.
So, dear readers... Are there other examples of these "little things" in your lives?
Continue reading: My birthday is tomorrow! Going shopping...

A lesson learned: using others' presence as a shield

When my kids are around, Mistress and I tend to tone things down a bit. I'm allowed to wear shorts and t-shirts around the house, when doing my house chores, and there are far fewer public displays of my submission.

The other day, I had the chance to see that even though the kids are here with me, that I still need to be totally focused on Mistress, and that bad behavior will still be punished. Here is what happened:

Our ice maker was malfunctioning. This happens from time to time and when it does, we have to pop the whole contraption out of the refrigerator, clean it, and put it back in. Sometimes we have to fiddle with it when we slide it back in. This is something that Mistress Laura has fixed in the past. The upshot was that we had no ice. Mistress and I had talked about this and I had asked her if she could take a look at it, since I had done what I could to unwedge it.

I served dinner to the family, and after the kids and I cleaned the kitchen, we all retired to the family den to watch a two hour movie. After the movie, Mistress Laura got up and went to her office, and she asked me to fetch her a soda with ice.

Before I could stop to think, I said to Mistress, in slight exasperation:

"Well, we have no ice. I asked you to look at it before dinner!"

My son was milling around at this point, but without skipping a beat, my Wife said in a clearly angry tone of vioce:

"I don't need that kind of lip from you. I'm sure you can find other ways to say what you just said to me, can't you?"

I was looking down, blushing, and just said "Yes Ma'am".

Then she grabbed me by the T-shirt and pulled me close and whispered into my ear:

"Here's what you're going to do now. Go get me some ice. I don't care from where. Then, after you deliver my soda, meet me in the bedroom with three clothespins. Use the time that it will take for you to get the ice to think."

I just nodded my assent.

So, off I went, to the local grocery store, for a bag of ice. The whole time, I was turned on and afraid. I did not think that Mistress would punish me so quickly. Usually, she saves up my infractions for one of her "attitude adjustment" sessions. When I got to the store, it took a few minutes to buy the ice, and in another few minutes, I was back home.

I found room in the freezer for the ice bag, then I made Mistress's soda. She nodded as she took the soda from me, and turned back to reading her emails. It was a bit late in the evening, so the kids had retired to their rooms.

I went to the bedroom myself, then, found the bag of clothespins and placed it on the bed. I stripped, put on my collar as expected for all discipline sessions, and knelt by the side of the bed, waiting.

In reality, it was probably only about fifteen minutes before I heard Mistress walking down the hallway, though it felt more like an hour. She wakled up to me, kneeling by her bed, and said "Nice. You found more than three clothespins, I see. Good."

She sat on the bed then and asked "Why are you here, slaveboy?"

"Because I was rude to you in my tone of voice, Mistress."

"Yes. What could you have said to me instead?"

"I could have said: We are out of ice, Mistress, but if you want, I can go and get some till we fix the ice maker again."

"That's right, slaveboy. You should have given me the problem, offered a solution, and let me make the decision. Maybe I would have just changed my mind and had you serve me something else to drink."

"Yes, Mistress."

"I still have to punish you," she said, patting the top of the bed. "Get up here. On your back, slave."

I got on the bed and lay on my back as instructed. As is the case about 90% of the time when in the presence of my Wife/Mistress, my cock was rock hard.

She took the bag of clothespins.

"Normally, I would make you get on all fours and I would paddle you or cane you. Unfortunately, your kids are here, and I can't make that kind of noise. So, I had to get creative."

She took out three clothespins.

"My pretty little slaveboy. Where would these hurt the most?"

I was compelled to tell the truth. "One on each nipple and one on the end of my penis would probably hurt the most, Mistress."

Without hesitation, she applied the two clothespins to my nipples. That hurt and the pain kept building. She had managed to pinch just enough skin that the pain was sharp and fast, without much subsiding. This was clearly not for my pleasure.

"Tell me what that pain is, on a scale of 1-10" she said, looking at my face intently.

"It's a 9, Mistress," I said, breathing funny.

"Hurting you makes my cunt twitch," she casually remarked and my head spun and I wanted her to give me more pain. Anything to please her.

She then grabbed my still very rigid cock and put the third clothespin on the head, right over the pee hole, a most sensitive spot.

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouch! Mistress, that really hurts." I protested, but remained as still as I could.

"Yes, it really does hurt, doesn't it, slaveboy? Maybe you'll think twice about giving me lip in the future." She then started stroking the length of my cock, which caused the clothespin attached to my cock to jostle. It was a very unpleasant juxtaposition of pain and pleasure.

She spent the next few minutes flicking the clothespins on my nipples, enjoying the wincing and my short breaths, drinking in my agony. Then, without much warning, she took off the clothespins one by one. The pain shot through the roof when the clothespins were removed.

"Okay, slaveboy. That took less than ten minutes. I can hurt you without a whole lot of effort. Remember that. I think you were using your kids as a shield. You won't do that anymore, now, will you?"

"No, Mistress, I won't," I said, still feeling the stinging pain in my nipples and cock.

I got off the bed, knelt in front of her then, and kissed her feet. "Thank you, Mistress. I'll try my best from now on."

She stroked my cheek and told me the words I long to hear: "Good boy."
Continue reading: A lesson learned: using others' presence as a shield

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Fantasy: serving multiple women, CFNM, humiliation

I wrote the following in response to this post on Richard's Down on My Knees blog asking readers to tell their "unrealized BDSM dreams".

Mistress instructs me to get naked, put on her leather collar, and then presents to me an embarassing little plaid schoolgirl skirt which she expects me to wear. Then she gives me a list of chores to do (vacuuming, laundry, cleaning out the fridge, changing light bulbs, cooking dinner, etc.). Without telling me where she is going, she then takes off.

A few hours later, while still doing chores, Mistress comes into the house and commands me to kneel and “stay” (with a hand gesture, like when you tell a dog to “stay”). I do, instantly, and she goes back outside and comes back in, with another couple of ladies.

“See, there is my husband. Just the way I like him. I tell you, it is possible to have a completely obedient husband, you know.” my Wife/Mistress says.

“Wow, that is amazing,” the first one says and they both laugh and continue chatting with my Mistress, completely ignoring me.

“Yes. My little wife-boy here does all the house chores, all the house cleaning and laundry and cooking. He also gives great head, and I never have to feel obliged to do anything for him. He lives for my pleasure,” Mistres tells her friends as I turn a deeper shade of pink in mortification. Everything she says is true, but I was not expecting to be on display like this. Nontheless, my cock seems to paradoxically like this, as it is standing at attention, making a tent under the skirt.

My Mistress and friends go into the living room and sit down, chatting about how females should be the heads of households. I stay where I am, completely embarassed and completely turned on.

After an indeterminite time, I hear: “slaveboy, come here and serve us some drinks.”

I get up and go into the other room, with a raging erection underneath the plaid skirt.

“What would you and your friends like, Mistress?” I ask meekly, blushing from the completely obvious hardon.

“Bring me a screwdriver, and bring a couple of glasses of the red wine for my friends,” my Queen tells me and I do.

I spend the rest of the evening serving the three women, who become more domineering as the evening wears on.

At one point, Mistress has me get on all fours and she clips a leash to my collar and has me lick her pussy while her friends watch and laugh.

She then gets our her strapon and flips the skirt up and fucks me in the ass, all the while saying “Who’s the boss, bitch?” She is fingering her own pussy even as she fucks me with her strapon.

I am so excited at this point that it’s hard for me to think.

“Don’t you dare cum, bitch!” Mistress growls while continuing to fuck her little slaveboy’s ass. As she slams into me, I feel her bucking and I know she is starting to orgasm herself, but I am denied an orgasm.

When she is done with my (her!) ass, she has me clean her strapon and put it away and continue to server her and her friends drinks and snacks.
Continue reading: Fantasy: serving multiple women, CFNM, humiliation

The beginnings of my surrender (part 2)

Continuing from this post, takling about how it all began.

Reflecting later on these "servant game" sessions, I was struck by the emotional components more than by the kinky and sexual games. While I was my wife's slave I felt completely at peace and genuinely happy to serve her and to cater to all her whims.

I also noticed that most of the things which were the cause of arguments and marital discord did not seem to matter to me as much; I was starting to learn the skill of putting her needs and preferences automatically above my own. This realization was thrilling in and of itself.

At around this time, with the thrill of having tasted submission to my wife fresh in my memory and still resonating in my emotions, I stayed up late at nights and read FemDom sites like Elise Sutton's Female Superiority site and Diana Vesta's Guide to Female Domination. The more I read, the more eager I became to serve and obey my wife. Some of the sites which held my attention, such as the CFNM ("clothed female naked male") web sites were just pure porn, but even the porn sites pointed to a real desire that had been dormant in me.

My wife's birthday was coming up, and I was trying to come up with ideas. The last few birthdays I had bought her pieces of furniture, jewlery, books or CDs, etc. I struck upon an interesting idea, partially prompted by Elise Sutton's advice on how to introduce your wife or girlfriend to FemDom.

I found a birthday card that had a picture of a knight kneeling in front of his Queen, and inside I wrote:

"My beautiful Lady, Queen of my heart. I have gotten you some gifts as usual, but this year, I _also_ give you the gift of myself for the entirety of your birthday month (since a one day celebration is not nearly enough!)

I am completely yours, and anything that you desire will be my privilege to do for you."

My wife was amused and more than a bit skeptical. She figured that this was another one of the many things that would eventually fizzle away. I just smiled, thinking that her skepticism was well deserved since for many years I had been the stereotypical husband: busy, unavailable, unthinking, unappreciative, sometimes downright self centered.

The next morning, I got up early and did all the household chores: laundry, cleaning, vacuuming, taking care of the kitty litter, grocery shopping, all the while feeling a humming excitement at serving my wife.

During the next few weeks, I served my wife breakfast in bed, brought her snacks whenever she asked, fetched her drinks, massaged her, gave her footrubs, all the while reining in my male ego. It was torturous from time to time, massaging my wife's back, sexually lusting for her, but deliberately focusing only on her pleasure.

Towards the end of her birthday month, we had a conversation, where I confessed to her that serving her made me genuinely happy and that I realized that most of all, what I want, as a man, is to please my woman. I told her that I realized that her judgement in all things was just as good if not better than mine and that there was no reason why she should not be in control.

At some point in this conversation, I asked her: "Do you enjoy being the boss?"

She smiled and said "Yes, of course, my boy. You spoil me," and she touched my cheek lovingly. That was the end of that. I blushed and knelt at her feet, and she stroked my cheek and told me "What a good and eager boy you are! Yes, I am happy with this arrangement."

It has now been about eight or so months. My trial period has kept getting extended until it has become permanent. My Mistress/wife has become more and more comfortable in her role as the head of the household, and is now in complete control of our lives. She has made a lot of good changes (I will probably write about that in later posts) and has made it impossible for me to go through a day without being constantly reminded that she owns me and she is the boss.

I adore her. When I'm not with her, I miss her. When I am with her, I am in a heightened state of trying to please her. Sometimes I am deliciously miserable (which paradoxically makes me happy) and at other times, I am simply at peace.

On a daily level:
I have kept up with all the housework, grocery shopping, running errands, kid-taxi, while Mistress Laura has been attending to other things. My efforts are, for the most part, self propelled (without much reminders from Mistress) and self sustaining.

I would love to hear thoughts and comments on any of this.
Continue reading: The beginnings of my surrender (part 2)

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

The beginnings of my surrender

To all outside appearances, mine is a traditional marriage.

I live and work near Santa Clara, California. I live in the suburbs. My wife and I raise my two teenaged children from my previous marriage. We have a dog and two cats. My wife and I seem to share conservative values and have an easygoing, comfortable friendship. To the casual observer, I am the head of my household.

For the first nine or so years of marriage with my lovely wife Laura, the appearance was the reality.

We had played around a bit at the beginning of our marriage with D/s, always with me as the Top. We even went through a period of attending BSDM gatherings and attending local play parties. I played with many people in the local scene, again, always as the Dominant. I was good with a whip, and would inflict pain on any willing masochist with relish. In retrospect, there is a part of me that wanted to feel the pain and the control that I subjected others to --- perhaps I wanted to feel it vicariously --- in some scenes, I would apply the same torture to myself, e.g. a clothespin to my nipple while applying one to my masochistic scene partner.

In the last seven or so years, that sort of public partying had lost its spark. We were working, parenting, trying to maintain romance, and ultimately, I believe we were drifting apart. I had my own hobbies, and my wife had her hobbies. We lived together and felt more like roommates as the years wore on.

Around last Christmas, during vacation, while my kids were with their mother, my wife and I were hanging out and goofing off, I was naked (we are relaxed about clothes) and she was dressed, and I started referring to her as "Ma'am" and we played for an entire evening with her as the Lady of the house and me as her servant boy. I massaged her feet, brought her snacks, and obeyed to the letter with enthusiasm anything and everything she asked of me.

During this first evening, my wife was tickled by my enthusiasm and my perpetual hardon. The simple act of bringing her a drink and kneeling by her side produced an embarassing effect on my body. My blood ran hot the entire time I was her servant.

At the end of the evening, she took me by the hand to our bed, and made me kneel by the side of the bed. She had me look at her eyes.

"I'd like a massage, boy," she told me and my head spun, and the hardon I had sported throughout the night practically pulsed. "and if you're really good, maybe you'll get to be my sex toy too."

I gave her a massage, concentrating entirely on her pleasure. This was a different type of massage than any other I had given her --- it was all about her pleasure, not my expected sexual reward. When I was done, she was relaxed and turned on, and she took my cock in her hand and pulled me into herself, all the while saying things like "You are such a good little slaveboy. Who knew?" A warm blush spread from my neck to my cheeks, when I heard her praise me in this way.

We played the servant game a few more times. She even gave me some pet names and would play with different rules for me. I loved it, and I could also tell she liked it too.

To Be Continued
Continue reading: The beginnings of my surrender