Monday, October 23, 2006

Tasha the "cleaning girl" (part 1)

Mistress Laura came home from work last Thursday fuming and frustrated. Tasha, a co-worker, had been late in giving her a piece of a project, making extra work for her. When Mistress Laura approached Tasha about this, some snippy words were exchanged. The interaction was not really resolved, and I got to hear all about it. In detail. Every word. Every gesture. Each nuance of voice tone and inflection.

After listening to her go on about Tasha's demeanor, laziness, and overall irresponsibility, I interjected into a small space of silence in the conversation:

“Mistress, is there anything I can do to help?”

She stopped for a second and thought. An evil glint came into her eyes.

“Yes. There is something you can do. I was going to have you do a deep cleaning of my bedroom this weekend anyway. You'll be Tasha the cleaning girl this weekend and I'm going to have fun harassing you, double-checking your work, and punishing you.”

“I am happy to be of service,” I said, grinning.

On Friday, while I was at work, I got my marching orders by Email:
My boy, I want you to stop at a drug store on the way home and get a package of Depends. When you come home, get yourself cleaned up as usual, put on my collar, come find me, kneel and wait. I'll tell you my plans for the weekend, then.
My heart beat a bit faster, but I managed to stay focused on work. Hours later, I was heading home.

The stop at the drug store was a bit embarrassing, but I managed it okay. I just nodded my head and kept looking down when the cashier asked me if I had found everything I was looking for. She rang up the purchase, I paid, and I was on my way home.

When I arrived, I went through my usual routine. I undressed, shaved, showered, put on my Mistress Wife's collar, and quietly knelt at her feet. She was in her office, working. The ritual of getting ready and presenting myself to her puts me into a very docile frame of mind every time. The fact that Mistress is almost always busy when I arrive adds to my anticipation and arousal. This time, I was fixated on my Mistress's pretty feet, while waiting for her to finish what she was doing and turn her attention to me.

After a few minutes, Mistress Laura swiveled around in her chair and tousled my hair playfully.

“Good boy. You wait so nicely. How was your day?“

We chatted for a few minutes, with me kneeling at her feet while she lightly touched my face or my shoulder. The whole time, my Mistress-Lust-Meter was maxed out. :-)

Finally, she told me her plans for the weekend.

“You will wake me up tomorrow with my usual weekend breakfast. Once we have eaten, I want you to get dressed in your pretty clothes and high heels and present yourself to me. At that point, you will be "Tasha the cleaning girl." You are to change the sheets, wash the entire bedding and re-make the bed with the spare sheets, vacuum, do all the laundry, including the bed sheets, fold and put it all away, scrub the bathroom floor, clean out and replenish the kitty litter, and dust the entire bedroom area. I will be spending my time in my office writing, but I'll inspect your work every once in a while, and if Tasha's work is not up to par, she's going to get a serious punishment.”

“Yes, Mistress. Can you give me the list of tasks I am supposed to do on paper?” I was worried that I might forget a detail.

“No. And I won't repeat myself either. Either you were paying attention, or Tasha will have a lot to be punished for.” She smiled and tweaked my nipple, while grabbing my hair and kissing me on the mouth.

The rest of the evening was spent in a very domestic manner: I was her naked slaveboy, serving my fully dressed Mistress Wife dinner and then sitting at her feet while we relaxed and watched TV.

At one point, she made me fetch the Depends and had me lay down on the ground while she put it on me, telling me that while I had the "diaper" on, that I was to still ask to go potty, but that she might just have me go in the diaper. I didn't know what to think or feel about this, but it made my cheeks go pink.

After a bit more relaxing at her feet, Mistress Laura made us go to bed early, telling me that tomorrow would probably be a “big day for my little boy” and she told me that if I needed to go in the middle of the night, I had permission to go in my diaper. This time, her words made me feel very little and very embarrassed.

To be continued.
Continue reading: Tasha the "cleaning girl" (part 1)

Update on the reader poll: sexual and power orientation

Here's an update as of today on the poll I've taken for a while (see the side bar of my blog). In summary, there's almost a 5 to 1 ratio between self-identified submissive men to dominant women.



The graphical breakdown of the data, followed by the numbers.
It's my belief that there are far more dominant women out there, but they are not self-identified as dominant (since to do so is to run counter to social conditioning and the status quo).
Continue reading: Update on the reader poll: sexual and power orientation

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Use me, trample me, make me your foot warmer!

It has been a bit chilly at night recently.

When it's just my Mistress Wife and me at home, I am naked, wearing only her collar. Mistress likes watching me naked, as I run around doing my house chores. She says I'm much more manageable when I am either naked or dressed in frilly girl lingerie. I don't know if that's really true, but I do know that being naked around my fully dressed Wife feels right to me.

Last night, after I had finished most of what she had assigned me for the day, Mistress walked into the room and said,

“slaveboy, I need a hot washcloth, then a foot rub. Then, you are to come to bed and be my heater.”

“Yes, Ma'am!” I responded and put one of the soft face towels under running hot water as I went into her bedroom to turn down the sheets, lower the lights, and to set up the hand lotion where she expects it to be. After the room was set up the way she liked it, I went back and retrieved the (now very hot) face towel and wrung it out. I went back into the bedroom and knelt in my position, waiting for her to join me.

“What a good boy,” she warmly cooed as she entered her bedroom a minute later. Hearing her pleased voice made my already hard cock twitch. I am so hopelessly in lust with her.

She sat on the edge of the bed and I gave her the hot washcloth. She wiped her face, making moaning noises of pleasure, then she threw the warm wet towel on my shoulder. I placed the wet towel to the side and I grabbed the bottle of hand lotion, starting to rub the lotion into her feet.

I love giving my Wife foot rubs. In truth, I love doing anything for her that involves touching her body: foot rubs, backrubs, clipping her toenails, literally anything.

I have learned that being her slaveboy means that my emotions are transparent to her. It's not just the physical nakedness that creates a certain obvious transparency (there is no way for me to hide my arousal); it's also the mental and emotional vulnerability, the openness that I crave and that my Owner/Wife demands.

As I was rubbing her feet, making sure to massage her heel area, her in-step, and letting my hands do their magic, I was also breathing heavier, feeling more and more aroused, and dropping further into feeling so good at just being used in this way. She looked at me very intently and smiled warmly, saying “You love doing this so much, don't you? Will you ever tire of this?”

“I don't think I ever will, Mistress.” I thought back to how this routine has evolved over time, but the rituals are essentially the same. I love the consistency, and each time I go through it, I feel the same feelings, sometimes with greater intensity. The feelings are variations of warmth, caring, being loved, lust, and above all, a delicious sense of surrender in the here and now. This heady mixture is an everyday experience for me and far surpasses anything I ever felt in any “equal relationship.”

When I was done with her feet, she crawled into the bed and just looked at me for a second, kneeling by the side. She patted the bed, which was my signal to hop on.

“My feet are cold, slaveboy. Here's what you're going to do. I want you to crawl under the covers, all the way to the edge of the bottom of the bed, and you will be my foot warmer.”

Her bed is a California King bed and I was surprised to see that I pretty much fit sideways at the bottom few inches of the bed. I am a petite man and my Mistress is taller than me.

If you can imagine it, I was under a sheet, thin blanket and large down blanket, sideways, across the bottom of the bed. She was laying in the bed normally, stabbing her freezing cold feet into my crotch, laying them across my very hard cock.

“That feels good,” she would say as she pushed her sole into my naked and shaved pubic region, or she moved her other foot onto my stomach. She kept pushing and prodding my body with her feet as I lovingly held her toes with my hands and moaned in absolute blissful pleasure at so obviously being used in such a simple way.

After about fifteen minutes, her feet were toasty warm and she announced, “Okay, slave. Get back up here and cuddle me,”

“Do I have to, Mistress? Can't I sleep like this at your feet all night?” I was still swimming in my feelings of objectification and feeling so wonderfully used, and reliving her moans of pleasure at digging her feet into me.

She just laughed and promised that she would do this again sometime and maybe I could be her foot-warmer for a few hour nap at some later point. I crawled back up and spooned her from behind. She wiggled her ass into my rock hard penis, telling me that I made a nice foot warmer, and slowly we fell asleep together.
Continue reading: Use me, trample me, make me your foot warmer!

Thursday, October 12, 2006

When power transfer goes beyond fantasy

I've been very busy with projects the last two weeks. Projects at work for my employer, and projects at home, for my Mistress Wife.

At home, practically every second of every day has been taken up with extra projects: moving rooms, cleaning closets, re-arranging the garage, making a new workout space. I have been doing these tasks in addition to all the housework which I do routinely: cooking, cleaning, laundry, driving Mistress Laura, and getting my kids to their various events.

In order to motivate me, Mistress teases me mercilessly as I go about my tasks (whenever possible, naked with her collar on) and she promises extra special duties and tasks when I finish large chunks of her To-Do list. One might think that this would be a submissive fantasy come true, but the emotions I feel while going through this are all over the map.

A few nights ago, on Monday night, after I had served dinner and cleaned up, Mistress set me up with the extra task of making a portion of a one of her work-related web sites functional. Since this is part of what I do at work, I thought to myself “No problem!” and set about the task. I was also happy to be given a break from the mostly physical labor I had been doing over the weekend.

On this evening, Mistress presented me with a list of functions she wanted to be operational and stated “If you get all of this working, I'm going to let you lick my pussy for a long time tonight.”

With the reward in front of me, and what looked like an easy task ahead, I set out to finish in record time. Oh how wrong I was.

By around 11PM (very late for me), I had hit some roadblocks, even as I had made huge progress. I had spent the last couple of hours being side-tracked by a minor misbehavior and had probably wasted some time.

Even so, I was still hopeful that Mistress would be lenient and allow me to get my reward (some fun time and play with her) and let me extend her deadline. Oh how wrong I was.

I instant-messaged her with my suggestion of extending the deadline and letting me have some fun and play. Her response to me, verbatim, was:

“No. No. I told you what was needed. You told me that you were trying to fix this minor annoying issue and it looks like you got side-tracked. I can't have that. You will continue to work on this. No. You don't get to change the deadline. I need this prototype up now. Keep working.”


To say that her response was disappointing to me misses the mark. My feelings were intense and varied. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I felt like crying. I got angry. I felt like just stopping, becoming depressed, and going to bed. I was so looking forward to some fun pussy-licking time with my Mistress Wife, and I had been working so hard.

“Yes Ma'am,”


I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep breath.

If I thought this out logically, there was nothing unreasonable in my Mistress holding me accountable and pushing me to produce results for her. In fact, if she had given in to my demand, it would only have taught me that her deadlines are just words and that my own sense of what was important (or interesting to fix) takes precedence over her stated outcomes.

I had no choice but to keep working. As the realization that I had no choice sank into my awareness, something interesting happened. First, I was acutely aware of how awful I felt: I was dead tired. Bleary eyed-tired. I felt frustrated and pushed. The lump in my throat was still there.

and...

There was an over-arching sense of peace. I was doing exactly what my Mistress wanted me to do. And slowly, I realized that it was what I wanted to do... What I needed to do. I chose this.

This realization brought with it a surge of energy and focus as I dropped my resistance and surrendered to what I was already doing. I was hit with inspirations and each of the technical problems fell by the wayside. At around 3AM, the job was done and I was able to check off all the requirements that my Mistress Wife had given me.

I slept for a few hours and I drove Mistress Laura to her work that morning. I walked her to her office and we talked a bit. I got to tell her that I had completed her task, and that I was very happy to have done it.

She told me:
“I never doubted that you would. I did feel badly about telling you "No", however.”


I assured her then, “You did the right thing, Mistress. I loved the fact that even though I felt like shit, I was disappointed and very frustrated, I kept going, because you said so.

At that, she beamed, cupped my head in her hands, kissed me, and said “Good boy. You'll get your reward tonight.”

I did get my reward that night (Tuesday). I knelt by the bed and I buried my face between her glorious legs, licking and smelling and sucking while she told me I was a good boy. That was just icing on the cake, though. I had handled a personal obstacle. In a completely non-sexual context, I had gone past “I don't wanna!!!” and surrendered to Her judgment, her whim, her dictate. I was very proud of myself, kneeling there, licking and inhaling her sweet sweet juices.

I shudder to think of what I would have felt like if I had just given up.
Continue reading: When power transfer goes beyond fantasy

Thursday, October 05, 2006

The chauffeur

When it's possible, I love driving Mistress Laura to work.

Last week, after her customary backrub and footrub before going to sleep for the night, Mistress Laura told me:

“Tomorrow morning, when you pick me up from work, I want you dressed in one of your nice suits. Be sure to be early and waiting for me. Since you're my driver, I want you to look the part.”

The next morning, I got up early and set aside my dark suit with a black tie and white button-down shirt. I did my morning routine for my Mistress Wife: serving her breakfast, making sure her towel was in place for her shower, helping her get dressed. Then I got dressed in the white shirt and suit pants, nice shoes.

I hung the jacket and tie up on a coat hook in the car. I came back and placed her briefcase and papers into the car while she did some last minute Emails, and then I escorted her to the car, opening the door for her and waiting till she signaled that it was okay to close it.

I drove her to work in silence, while she rested. Then, I went to my workplace.

All day long, all I could think about was how fun it was going to be to pick her back up at work. I did my own work, but kept watching the clock. I did not want to be late.

Finally, the moment came. I packed up my laptop and papers and went back to the car. I put on the black tie and the suit jacket and got behind the wheel. I then put on the sunglasses and the ear-piece (bluetooth wireless headset) that I had stashed in the front suit pocket and started driving.

Mistress Laura works at a local college. I drove the car in and parked in a loading zone close to the front of the campus. Then I got out and stood at attention next to the car, waiting.

Imagine the scene: You are at a sprawling college campus where there are many buildings separated by trees and landscaping. There's a silver Lexus mid sized SUV, with a man in a dark suit, sunglasses, waiting at attention near the curb out in front of the administration building.

I was about fifteen minutes early. I was subjected to many curious stares as faculty and students went about their business on campus, going to their classes or offices.

Two women who were walking down the path looked over at me and one said to the other:

“It looks like someone's getting picked up.”

The other one looked me up and down and said to the other, jokingly: “I want one.”

I was very nervous. I was sticking out, embarrassed, and, of course, loving every single minute of it. I stayed put.

Finally, after an excruciating number of minutes, Mistress Laura shows up. I walked up to her and took her briefcase and papers and followed behind. As she neared the car, she slowed down and I opened her door for her. I stashed her things in the back and I went around and got behind the wheel.

After we were on the road, Mistress Laura touched my hand and confided in me that she was really embarrassed to be picked up like that, but that it was very fun for her. She thought the sunglasses and the ear-piece were a nice touch. Dramatic and silly at the same time. I grinned wide at her comment.

“I felt like I was the President's daughter, getting picked up by the secret service.”

Great fun. We'll be doing this more regularly, I'm sure.
Continue reading: The chauffeur

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

No, I have not disappeared

Several people asked, so I am posting a short note here.

I am alive and well and having fun.

The last few days have been filled with non-stop activity (house projects for Mistress Laura, work projects for my employer, family obligations, etc.) and I have not yet had time to catch my breath.

I have also shifted some things with my schedule (I get up another hour earlier) so that I can get a few more things done. As a result of all of this, my blog reading and writing has taken a temporary hit.

I'll be back soon!
Continue reading: No, I have not disappeared