Oh man!!! This video of Chris Rock talking about relationships had me rolling on the floor in gut busting laughter. It is full of profanity, but I think there is wisdom here for any FemDom relationship. :-)
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Making slaveboys squat to poop may be good for their health. :-)
There have been a few times when Mistress has had me go potty outside, in the backyard, squatting naked in the grass.
The interesting thing is that I always felt perfectly comfortable and at peace, doing my business like that.
So, I was using Firefox's StumbleUpon plugin, and I ran into this: Squat, Don't Sit!
Amusing. What do you all think?
Best regards,
Thomas.
The interesting thing is that I always felt perfectly comfortable and at peace, doing my business like that.
So, I was using Firefox's StumbleUpon plugin, and I ran into this: Squat, Don't Sit!
Amusing. What do you all think?
Best regards,
Thomas.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Sublime torture
For the last few weeks, my Mistress has ramped up her everyday control of me by doing the following routine. When she is on her way home from work, she calls me on the cell phone.
“My boy, I want dinner ready on the table, with you naked, kneeling in the kitchen when I get home.”
Even though this is a frequent occurrence, I am always excited by kneeling naked for her. She gets home, strokes my head, sometimes leans down and kisses me, and sits down to eat. She always teases me about how eager my neglected cock is. How it looks so smooth and hairless, like a little boy's.
When she has had a few bites, she will let me join her and eat a little bit myself.
If she needs a drink, I get it for her. If she wants a foot rub, she tells me and I am supposed to stop immediately whatever it is I am doing and kneel down next to her to rub her feet.
When she is done with dinner, she will get up and tell me to follow her into her bedroom.
“Kneel there, slaveboy,” she points to the floor, next to her bed.
When I do, I am once again instantly at attention. She giggles at that; no matter how many times she has done this, my cock still springs to a full erection and I feel embarrassed by her laughing.
She will then sit on the edge of the bed, pull off her dress and slip off her panties, lay back and say to me something like: “Time for my little boy to kiss Mommy in her special place. Come on up, boy!”
I then get on the bed, put my face between her legs, and lick and kiss her pussy. The scent of her drives me mad. I know exactly how to kiss her. I know how to use my thumb and fingers to give her pleasure. Each time she has me do this, I get a little bit better and I am perfect at following her directions.
After about ten or fifteen minutes, she will come, often holding my hair and pushing my face into her pussy as she does so.
Then, she slowly gets up and has me lay on my back.
She will often grasp my hard hard cock, which is spewing precum, and smile, looking into my eyes.
“You did a good job, my boy. I suppose you would like a release too?”
“Yes, Mistress, but it's your choice.” at this point, I am panting and could probably orgasm if she just pumped my cock (her property) just a little bit with her hand.
“Yes, it is my choice. Not tonight. I don't want to give you an idea that this had anything to do with your pleasure.”
“Yes, Ma'am.” It's hard to describe, but at these moments, I am simultaneously unhappy for not being allowed any release and ecstatic about her control over me.
“Go clean up the kitchen and go about your housework.”
This routine has been going on now for about a month. I am practically going out of my mind with lust whenever she touches me. At the same time, I am much much quicker to jump whenever she orders me to do something.
Today (Sunday), she has set me the task of vaccuuming the whole house and doing all the laundry while she relaxes. I am so completely enthralled by her, so completely in heat and so completely hers to do with as she wishes.
“My boy, I want dinner ready on the table, with you naked, kneeling in the kitchen when I get home.”
Even though this is a frequent occurrence, I am always excited by kneeling naked for her. She gets home, strokes my head, sometimes leans down and kisses me, and sits down to eat. She always teases me about how eager my neglected cock is. How it looks so smooth and hairless, like a little boy's.
When she has had a few bites, she will let me join her and eat a little bit myself.
If she needs a drink, I get it for her. If she wants a foot rub, she tells me and I am supposed to stop immediately whatever it is I am doing and kneel down next to her to rub her feet.
When she is done with dinner, she will get up and tell me to follow her into her bedroom.
“Kneel there, slaveboy,” she points to the floor, next to her bed.
When I do, I am once again instantly at attention. She giggles at that; no matter how many times she has done this, my cock still springs to a full erection and I feel embarrassed by her laughing.
She will then sit on the edge of the bed, pull off her dress and slip off her panties, lay back and say to me something like: “Time for my little boy to kiss Mommy in her special place. Come on up, boy!”
I then get on the bed, put my face between her legs, and lick and kiss her pussy. The scent of her drives me mad. I know exactly how to kiss her. I know how to use my thumb and fingers to give her pleasure. Each time she has me do this, I get a little bit better and I am perfect at following her directions.
After about ten or fifteen minutes, she will come, often holding my hair and pushing my face into her pussy as she does so.
Then, she slowly gets up and has me lay on my back.
She will often grasp my hard hard cock, which is spewing precum, and smile, looking into my eyes.
“You did a good job, my boy. I suppose you would like a release too?”
“Yes, Mistress, but it's your choice.” at this point, I am panting and could probably orgasm if she just pumped my cock (her property) just a little bit with her hand.
“Yes, it is my choice. Not tonight. I don't want to give you an idea that this had anything to do with your pleasure.”
“Yes, Ma'am.” It's hard to describe, but at these moments, I am simultaneously unhappy for not being allowed any release and ecstatic about her control over me.
“Go clean up the kitchen and go about your housework.”
This routine has been going on now for about a month. I am practically going out of my mind with lust whenever she touches me. At the same time, I am much much quicker to jump whenever she orders me to do something.
Today (Sunday), she has set me the task of vaccuuming the whole house and doing all the laundry while she relaxes. I am so completely enthralled by her, so completely in heat and so completely hers to do with as she wishes.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
It's been a full year, what does my typical day look like?
It's been a year since Mistress Laura and I formalized our relationship.
I am amazed by how fast time has flown by.
I continue to do all the housework (vaccuming, laundry, pet care, etc). My cooking skills have only improved with time and practice. I still occasionally find it hard to say “Yes, Mistress”, but the weekly attitude adjustment sessions and her complete control of my sexual pleasure keep me in check and are constant visceral and quite erotic reminders for me that she is the boss and I am her servant.
A typical day these days for us goes like this:
I wake up around 5:30 AM, slipping out of bed as noiselessly as possible so that Mistress can remain asleep.
Next, I exercise. Every weekday, I do weights followed by varying intensities on the treadmill or elliptical; on the weekends I skip the weights and go for a longer and less intense cardio session (sometimes a run, sometimes a long walk, other times I bike).
After this, I take a quick rinse, dry off, then remain naked till Mistress wants me dressed, except for her leather collar which I wear whenever I am serving her.
Now, I start making breakfast for Mistress Laura. Most of the time, it's something warm (eggs, hash browns, etc). She usually tells me what she wants the night before. When breakfast is ready, I go back to the bedroom and put the plates on the side table and kneel on the floor by the side of the bed. Slowly and gently, I massage Mistress's feet till she wakes up and I serve her breakfast.
While she is eating, we chat. I am usually naked, kneeling or sitting on the floor and she is dressed in her night gown, sitting on the bed. More often than not, my cock is rock hard and my head swims in a mixture of adoration and lust. When she is finished with breakfast, she moves into her office and I make the bed. Sometimes I vaccuum the bedroom (it only takes a few minutes). I clean up the dishes and clean up the breakfast mess in the kitchen.
When it is time for me to go to work (having finished all my morning household chores), I go into her office and kneel behind her. Sometimes she leaves me like that for a few minutes while she keeps typing an email. When she does that, my cock gets even more turgid, since she is objectifying me and making sure I know that what she is doing is more important than paying attention to me. Finally, she turns around and asks me what I want. “May I go to work, Mistress?” Of course she says “Yes” but more often that not, she will tell me to kiss her feet first.
I kiss her feet and I retreat back to Her bedroom and start to get dressed and go to work.
My work day is fairly ordinary. Mistress herself works at a local college. She likes to occasionally keep track of what I am doing by IM. Most days, we talk for a minute or two on the phone during the day to check in. When I am at work, I run my meetings, manage our software projects, and occasionally I get to do some programming. When my work day is done, I happily leave for home.
When I get home, more often than not Mistress is still working. I strip and put on Mistress's collar, then I go around the house and do a little bit of cleaning, a bit of laundry, and start cooking dinner. When I cook dinner, I am required to wear the apron that Mistress picked out for me. It's red with just a bit of a frilly border. While dinner is cooking, I usually clean out the litter boxes and feed Mistress's dog.
Mistress arrives home to find me kneeling next to the kitchen table. The the dinner that she wanted is ready, the plates are set, and her soda is also set up exactly where she wants it. We greet each other and she lets me sit while we eat and talk.
After dinner, I clean up. Sometimes she sits at the kitchen table and watches and teases me while I clean dishes (I love that!); at other times, she goes back into her office and I go and kneel by her when I am done with cleanup.
Later in the evening, Mistress likes to watch TV. I sit at her feet while she sits in the comfortable easy-chair. I am in charge of the remote controls, but she is in charge of me. ;-)
When we are done with the TV, Mistress sends me ahead to turn down the bed and kneel by the side of the bed, waiting for her. It's usually a bit before midnight at this time. She sits at the edge of the bed and we do our usual ritual: I kiss her feet, then I massage them, putting hand-lotion on her feet. Sometimes she has me give her a backrub till she falls asleep. Sometimes (not often enough for my tastes!) she has me lick and kiss her and give her an orgasm.
This late night ritual only very rarely ends in sexual release for me, but I am ecstatically happy whenever I get to give her pleasure. My release has been linked much more to our weekly spanking and caning sessions and the occasional humiliation play that pushes Mistress's sadistic buttons.
At this point, if she feels like it, which is most of the time, Mistress tells me that I can sleep in the bed with her. Occasionally, she has me sleep on a doggy bed at the foot of the bed.
So, that's my usual routine. I hope you enjoyed this peek into this slaveboy's life.
Best regards,
Thomas.
I am amazed by how fast time has flown by.
I continue to do all the housework (vaccuming, laundry, pet care, etc). My cooking skills have only improved with time and practice. I still occasionally find it hard to say “Yes, Mistress”, but the weekly attitude adjustment sessions and her complete control of my sexual pleasure keep me in check and are constant visceral and quite erotic reminders for me that she is the boss and I am her servant.
A typical day these days for us goes like this:
I wake up around 5:30 AM, slipping out of bed as noiselessly as possible so that Mistress can remain asleep.
Next, I exercise. Every weekday, I do weights followed by varying intensities on the treadmill or elliptical; on the weekends I skip the weights and go for a longer and less intense cardio session (sometimes a run, sometimes a long walk, other times I bike).
After this, I take a quick rinse, dry off, then remain naked till Mistress wants me dressed, except for her leather collar which I wear whenever I am serving her.
Now, I start making breakfast for Mistress Laura. Most of the time, it's something warm (eggs, hash browns, etc). She usually tells me what she wants the night before. When breakfast is ready, I go back to the bedroom and put the plates on the side table and kneel on the floor by the side of the bed. Slowly and gently, I massage Mistress's feet till she wakes up and I serve her breakfast.
While she is eating, we chat. I am usually naked, kneeling or sitting on the floor and she is dressed in her night gown, sitting on the bed. More often than not, my cock is rock hard and my head swims in a mixture of adoration and lust. When she is finished with breakfast, she moves into her office and I make the bed. Sometimes I vaccuum the bedroom (it only takes a few minutes). I clean up the dishes and clean up the breakfast mess in the kitchen.
When it is time for me to go to work (having finished all my morning household chores), I go into her office and kneel behind her. Sometimes she leaves me like that for a few minutes while she keeps typing an email. When she does that, my cock gets even more turgid, since she is objectifying me and making sure I know that what she is doing is more important than paying attention to me. Finally, she turns around and asks me what I want. “May I go to work, Mistress?” Of course she says “Yes” but more often that not, she will tell me to kiss her feet first.
I kiss her feet and I retreat back to Her bedroom and start to get dressed and go to work.
My work day is fairly ordinary. Mistress herself works at a local college. She likes to occasionally keep track of what I am doing by IM. Most days, we talk for a minute or two on the phone during the day to check in. When I am at work, I run my meetings, manage our software projects, and occasionally I get to do some programming. When my work day is done, I happily leave for home.
When I get home, more often than not Mistress is still working. I strip and put on Mistress's collar, then I go around the house and do a little bit of cleaning, a bit of laundry, and start cooking dinner. When I cook dinner, I am required to wear the apron that Mistress picked out for me. It's red with just a bit of a frilly border. While dinner is cooking, I usually clean out the litter boxes and feed Mistress's dog.
Mistress arrives home to find me kneeling next to the kitchen table. The the dinner that she wanted is ready, the plates are set, and her soda is also set up exactly where she wants it. We greet each other and she lets me sit while we eat and talk.
After dinner, I clean up. Sometimes she sits at the kitchen table and watches and teases me while I clean dishes (I love that!); at other times, she goes back into her office and I go and kneel by her when I am done with cleanup.
Later in the evening, Mistress likes to watch TV. I sit at her feet while she sits in the comfortable easy-chair. I am in charge of the remote controls, but she is in charge of me. ;-)
When we are done with the TV, Mistress sends me ahead to turn down the bed and kneel by the side of the bed, waiting for her. It's usually a bit before midnight at this time. She sits at the edge of the bed and we do our usual ritual: I kiss her feet, then I massage them, putting hand-lotion on her feet. Sometimes she has me give her a backrub till she falls asleep. Sometimes (not often enough for my tastes!) she has me lick and kiss her and give her an orgasm.
This late night ritual only very rarely ends in sexual release for me, but I am ecstatically happy whenever I get to give her pleasure. My release has been linked much more to our weekly spanking and caning sessions and the occasional humiliation play that pushes Mistress's sadistic buttons.
At this point, if she feels like it, which is most of the time, Mistress tells me that I can sleep in the bed with her. Occasionally, she has me sleep on a doggy bed at the foot of the bed.
So, that's my usual routine. I hope you enjoyed this peek into this slaveboy's life.
Best regards,
Thomas.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Whew... I'm back.
It's been a very hectic two months since my last post. Starting today, I'll be starting to write more regularly again. Probably a few short entries a week, then back to my usual daily notes and reflections.
In the last two months, we went through Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's.
For me, it was all a blur, since I've been holding down my regular job, doing contracts on the side, increasing my exercise regime, enrolled in college courses, while continuing to serve my Mistress by doing the housework and attending to all her needs.
One of my major accomplishments during this time period where I disappeared from writing on my blog here has been that I went from being slightly overweight (at 175 pounds) to being athletically trim (at 145 pounds) by implementing the strategies that Saratoga pointed me to and sticking to that routine religiously. I have so much more energy now and I need to have that energy, to continue to do all the things I do!
I am now working on having six-pack abs, and it is very much within reach. Mistress really appreciates my newly hard body and I love her attention, of course. :-)
Anyways, I'll write more later.
Best regards,
Thomas.
In the last two months, we went through Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's.
For me, it was all a blur, since I've been holding down my regular job, doing contracts on the side, increasing my exercise regime, enrolled in college courses, while continuing to serve my Mistress by doing the housework and attending to all her needs.
One of my major accomplishments during this time period where I disappeared from writing on my blog here has been that I went from being slightly overweight (at 175 pounds) to being athletically trim (at 145 pounds) by implementing the strategies that Saratoga pointed me to and sticking to that routine religiously. I have so much more energy now and I need to have that energy, to continue to do all the things I do!
I am now working on having six-pack abs, and it is very much within reach. Mistress really appreciates my newly hard body and I love her attention, of course. :-)
Anyways, I'll write more later.
Best regards,
Thomas.
Monday, November 20, 2006
A quick update
It's been over two weeks since my last post, and some of you have wondered where I am.
It's that time of year, with the holidays looming, and with my Mistress working in academia, and my work in Silicon Valley, things have gotten very busy.
We are still having fun, but I've not had much time for blogging.
Between the housework, my day job, my new exercise regime and eating patterns, my beginning writing career, and the new short term contract which I just finished (whew!!) it's a wonder I even had time to sleep!
On a personal note, since starting a new more integrated exercise regime and eating many small meals, I have shed about 10 pounds. Thanks, Saratoga, for the info you pointed me to!
I haven't even read all the blogs I usually like to read in the last two weeks.
Anyhow, I'll write more later, when I can catch my breath.
Have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Thomas.
It's that time of year, with the holidays looming, and with my Mistress working in academia, and my work in Silicon Valley, things have gotten very busy.
We are still having fun, but I've not had much time for blogging.
Between the housework, my day job, my new exercise regime and eating patterns, my beginning writing career, and the new short term contract which I just finished (whew!!) it's a wonder I even had time to sleep!
On a personal note, since starting a new more integrated exercise regime and eating many small meals, I have shed about 10 pounds. Thanks, Saratoga, for the info you pointed me to!
I haven't even read all the blogs I usually like to read in the last two weeks.
Anyhow, I'll write more later, when I can catch my breath.
Have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Thomas.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Post-play orneriness as an emotional defense
On Wednesday night, Mistress had me pleasure her with an all-over body massage which turned into a couple hour long play session. In the middle of it all, she consistently teased me and forced me to come to the edge, while saying “No. You may not.” to every single request of mine to orgasm.
She herself took her sweet time, and took her pleasure completely. She came three times, using my tongue, my hands, and toys.
By the end, I was floating on a sea of love and closeness intermixed with lust and surrender. I wanted to do anything for her and I felt very close to her.
Over the next few hours and into the next day or two (into part of today), I kept engaging in stupid nit-picky verbal struggles with Mistress Laura. Finally, she asked me today:
“What is up? Why are you more argumentative than usual?”
I thought for a long time and I replied:
“Every once in a while, when I feel overwhelmed by the feeling of being close to you, I want to cry, and instead, I think I look for anything that can distract you and me. So I nit-pick and get defensive about things.” I swallowed hard.
“Oh. You don't need to do that anymore. I'm not going to reject you. You can feel free to feel close to me.”
I want to cry with joy.
She herself took her sweet time, and took her pleasure completely. She came three times, using my tongue, my hands, and toys.
By the end, I was floating on a sea of love and closeness intermixed with lust and surrender. I wanted to do anything for her and I felt very close to her.
Over the next few hours and into the next day or two (into part of today), I kept engaging in stupid nit-picky verbal struggles with Mistress Laura. Finally, she asked me today:
“What is up? Why are you more argumentative than usual?”
I thought for a long time and I replied:
“Every once in a while, when I feel overwhelmed by the feeling of being close to you, I want to cry, and instead, I think I look for anything that can distract you and me. So I nit-pick and get defensive about things.” I swallowed hard.
“Oh. You don't need to do that anymore. I'm not going to reject you. You can feel free to feel close to me.”
I want to cry with joy.
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:
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.
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.
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).
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).
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.
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.
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:
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Dealing with jealousy, FemDom style
I admit it. I am a jealous husband. Especially when it comes to Mistress Laura's ex-boyfriends, I am ungracious and pathetically insecure. I fret and I sulk and I become a complete pain.
I think part of this stems from an unconscious “ownership” mentality with respect to my Wife. This mentality went unchallenged for all the years that I was the head of the household.
Recently, my jealousy was starting to become an issue.
Mistress Laura has an ex boyfriend, David, on the East Coast. David is married, non-kinky and monogamous. David and Laura have maintained a friendship over the years and they still love each other. David lives close to Mistress Laura's family and is in touch with her brothers and sisters. Over the years, he has become part of my Mistress Wife's extended family.
Because of recent family news (births, illnesses, the usual stuff) Mistress Laura has been spending a couple of hours on the phone, talking with David. I did not like this at all. I was not openly disapproving (I do know my place), but I was grumpy, sullen, mopey. Very attractive behavior, all in all.
She tried talking with me. Here's how one of the early conversations went:
“Tom, do you have a problem with me talking to David as much as I have been? I'm sensing a lot of hostility about the time I'm spending on the phone with him.”
“No, Ma'am.” I said, defensively, reflexively and without much thought. Then, a moment later, I added: “Yes, I feel jealous. There's not much I can do about it, because you obviously have the right to talk to whoever you want, but I don't have to like it.”
“Well, I almost feel bad, talking to David, because you seem so miserable.”
To my Mistress Wife's gracious statement of caring for my feelings, I replied like an oaf: “Whatever. I don't really care. Like I said, I don't have to like it, but you can do what you want.”
In retrospect, I can see that I was not really being a good partner. I just wanted to shut the conversation down and move on, and refused to feel the root feelings. Shut it down, compartmentalize it, let's move on. How stereotypical. :-)
We had a few more conversations. Some of the conversations deteriorated faster than others. In some, I was openly hostile to the topic from the beginning. I kept repeating that “I'm jealous and a bit angry and there's not much I can do about it.” I would leave each conversation more miserable and I don't even want to think what my Wife must have been feeling.
She got tired of dealing with the issue in a vanilla fashion.
Yesterday morning, I was woken up at 5AM with one hand firmly in my hair and my Mistress's other hand grasping my (her!) cock and balls firmly.
“Are you awake yet, slaveboy?”
The shot of adrenaline had certainly woken me up and my cock was instantly hard.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good.” She let go of me and motioned for me to kneel on the side of the bed. “David is leaving for work in about an hour. I want you to crawl into the other room, get me the portable phone, and crawl back.”
I did as she commanded, aroused by being ordered around. As I was crawling away, she laughed and commented “cute butt.” that made me feel good. When I brought her the phone, she once again had me kneel beside the bed.
She was sitting on the bed, with me kneeling beside her. She caressed my cheek lovingly, planted her lovely naked feet on the floor, and told me:
“I am going to call David now. You are to be completely silent and kissing my feet the whole time. If I so much as feel bad attitude from you, you will be extremely sorry. Now, slaveboy, start kissing my feet.”
My heart was in my throat and my stomach felt jumbled up with love, adoration, lust. I planted my hands on either side of her feet, and started kissing her feet lovingly. Every once in a while, I would lick a little bit.
She dialed the phone and in a minute was chatting with David. She was joking and laughing and talking with her ex boyfriend while I was naked, my butt in the air, kissing and licking her pretty little feet. My cock was rock hard the whole time. I think the conversation lasted about twenty minutes. I did not feel jealous in the least; I think my mind was incapable of feeling anything other than lust and adoration while I was kissing my Mistress's feet.
When she was done, she pushed the “off” button on the phone and set it aside. She then leaned down and motioned for me to stop and kneel up, cupping my face in her hands, she said to me tenderly, “Now, my cute little slaveboy, that wasn't so bad, was it?” and she reached down and stroked my already rock hard cock.
“No, Mistress, it wasn't bad,” I said, blushing a bit.
She kept stroking me and told me to tell her when I was close to coming. In a few minutes, I was very very close and told her so. She then stopped abruptly.
“You will not be allowed to orgasm today, slaveboy,” she said, looking pleased with the effect she was having on me, “Now, kiss my feet again and crawl back into bed. We're going to cuddle and go back to sleep.”
I planted my lips lovingly on her feet, kissing each foot a few times, and crawled back into bed, where she spooned me from behind. I felt at peace.
Since then, she has re-iterated that she will call David or whomever she wants at any time, and that the least amount of moping or surliness will earn me a severe punishment.
Interestingly, I feel so much more secure than when she was trying to deal with my jealousy in a conventional manner.
I think part of this stems from an unconscious “ownership” mentality with respect to my Wife. This mentality went unchallenged for all the years that I was the head of the household.
Recently, my jealousy was starting to become an issue.
Mistress Laura has an ex boyfriend, David, on the East Coast. David is married, non-kinky and monogamous. David and Laura have maintained a friendship over the years and they still love each other. David lives close to Mistress Laura's family and is in touch with her brothers and sisters. Over the years, he has become part of my Mistress Wife's extended family.
Because of recent family news (births, illnesses, the usual stuff) Mistress Laura has been spending a couple of hours on the phone, talking with David. I did not like this at all. I was not openly disapproving (I do know my place), but I was grumpy, sullen, mopey. Very attractive behavior, all in all.
She tried talking with me. Here's how one of the early conversations went:
“Tom, do you have a problem with me talking to David as much as I have been? I'm sensing a lot of hostility about the time I'm spending on the phone with him.”
“No, Ma'am.” I said, defensively, reflexively and without much thought. Then, a moment later, I added: “Yes, I feel jealous. There's not much I can do about it, because you obviously have the right to talk to whoever you want, but I don't have to like it.”
“Well, I almost feel bad, talking to David, because you seem so miserable.”
To my Mistress Wife's gracious statement of caring for my feelings, I replied like an oaf: “Whatever. I don't really care. Like I said, I don't have to like it, but you can do what you want.”
In retrospect, I can see that I was not really being a good partner. I just wanted to shut the conversation down and move on, and refused to feel the root feelings. Shut it down, compartmentalize it, let's move on. How stereotypical. :-)
We had a few more conversations. Some of the conversations deteriorated faster than others. In some, I was openly hostile to the topic from the beginning. I kept repeating that “I'm jealous and a bit angry and there's not much I can do about it.” I would leave each conversation more miserable and I don't even want to think what my Wife must have been feeling.
She got tired of dealing with the issue in a vanilla fashion.
Yesterday morning, I was woken up at 5AM with one hand firmly in my hair and my Mistress's other hand grasping my (her!) cock and balls firmly.
“Are you awake yet, slaveboy?”
The shot of adrenaline had certainly woken me up and my cock was instantly hard.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good.” She let go of me and motioned for me to kneel on the side of the bed. “David is leaving for work in about an hour. I want you to crawl into the other room, get me the portable phone, and crawl back.”
I did as she commanded, aroused by being ordered around. As I was crawling away, she laughed and commented “cute butt.” that made me feel good. When I brought her the phone, she once again had me kneel beside the bed.
She was sitting on the bed, with me kneeling beside her. She caressed my cheek lovingly, planted her lovely naked feet on the floor, and told me:
“I am going to call David now. You are to be completely silent and kissing my feet the whole time. If I so much as feel bad attitude from you, you will be extremely sorry. Now, slaveboy, start kissing my feet.”
My heart was in my throat and my stomach felt jumbled up with love, adoration, lust. I planted my hands on either side of her feet, and started kissing her feet lovingly. Every once in a while, I would lick a little bit.
She dialed the phone and in a minute was chatting with David. She was joking and laughing and talking with her ex boyfriend while I was naked, my butt in the air, kissing and licking her pretty little feet. My cock was rock hard the whole time. I think the conversation lasted about twenty minutes. I did not feel jealous in the least; I think my mind was incapable of feeling anything other than lust and adoration while I was kissing my Mistress's feet.
When she was done, she pushed the “off” button on the phone and set it aside. She then leaned down and motioned for me to stop and kneel up, cupping my face in her hands, she said to me tenderly, “Now, my cute little slaveboy, that wasn't so bad, was it?” and she reached down and stroked my already rock hard cock.
“No, Mistress, it wasn't bad,” I said, blushing a bit.
She kept stroking me and told me to tell her when I was close to coming. In a few minutes, I was very very close and told her so. She then stopped abruptly.
“You will not be allowed to orgasm today, slaveboy,” she said, looking pleased with the effect she was having on me, “Now, kiss my feet again and crawl back into bed. We're going to cuddle and go back to sleep.”
I planted my lips lovingly on her feet, kissing each foot a few times, and crawled back into bed, where she spooned me from behind. I felt at peace.
Since then, she has re-iterated that she will call David or whomever she wants at any time, and that the least amount of moping or surliness will earn me a severe punishment.
Interestingly, I feel so much more secure than when she was trying to deal with my jealousy in a conventional manner.
Monday, September 25, 2006
More on cuckolding
Since writing the previous post (“Is she just playing with me?”) I have gotten some very nice comments. One correspondent, DH, wrote me a very nice concerned note privately, saying:
DH's comments were very appreciated, and they caused me to reflect on the core of the erotic attraction to being denied sex even as my Wife could fuck whomever she wishes, however she wishes.
Part of my thrill is the denial, the humiliation, the power trip for my wife. I like the idea of inherent unfairness, unreasonableness, inequality; for example, my wife controls all the money and can do pretty much whatever she wants. I, on the other hand, always have to ask for permission for my non-routine purchases. She can have me pleasure her to multiple orgasms, then she can roll over and fall asleep. She can masturbate anytime she wants to. I, on the other hand, need her permission before I can even touch myself for any purpose other than cleaning.
The bottom line is: Her control makes me happy. Even if I am frustrated in that moment.
DH continued in his message:
If the submissive husband retains the most vaunted role, the “true love” spot in the wife's heart, then he is secure... But the eroticism of the situation revolves around his insecurity.
As sick and twisted as that may seem, the danger, the insecurity, the abject shame and humiliation are at the core of the “enjoyment” of such an experience.
If I was being cuckolded, I know I would be miserable but I would also be turned on by such a flagrant display of power by my Mistress Wife.
My Wife has, from time to time, made me fall on my knees in pure adoration and lust simply by entertaining the idea that she may, some year in the future, choose to divorce me and keep my as simply her slave. That scenario pushes the same buttons: I would be insecure, no longer legally joined with her as an equal in the eyes of the law, and totally dependent on her. I would not be her submissive husband, just her slaveboy, stripped of all rights.
Now, this is where someone goes ahead and sends me a link to husband abuse information, right? :-)
I am against cuckolding in most cases, even though I find the idea of being the so-called bull enormously arousing. I also endorse it in some corrective and advanced-practicioner situations.First of all, before I go into this in more detail, I have to say right upfront that right now, I am not emotionally mature enough or enlightened enough to consider being a cuckold husband. Not that it's in my hands at all; if Mistress wanted, she could move me there in no time flat. With that preamble out of the way, I wanted to delve a bit into this particular expression of my Mistress Wife's sexual power over me.
Through the net I have “met” many who were happy with the wife having sex outside the marriage. I have “met" some for whom it is a train wreck in real life. Her having more partners for her pleasure need not be an exercise in denial or humiliation for you. They need not be linked at all.
DH's comments were very appreciated, and they caused me to reflect on the core of the erotic attraction to being denied sex even as my Wife could fuck whomever she wishes, however she wishes.
Part of my thrill is the denial, the humiliation, the power trip for my wife. I like the idea of inherent unfairness, unreasonableness, inequality; for example, my wife controls all the money and can do pretty much whatever she wants. I, on the other hand, always have to ask for permission for my non-routine purchases. She can have me pleasure her to multiple orgasms, then she can roll over and fall asleep. She can masturbate anytime she wants to. I, on the other hand, need her permission before I can even touch myself for any purpose other than cleaning.
The bottom line is: Her control makes me happy. Even if I am frustrated in that moment.
DH continued in his message:
I would point out that in many if not most of these happy couples the hubby remains the focus of the wife's actions and her other Lovers are no more than fucktoys or friends with benefits.This is an interesting idea, but misses the emotional masochism inherent in the scenarios that attract me (like a moth to a flame). The fantasy, in its basest form, involves the dominant sadist wife inflicting physical and emotional pain on her submissive husband, while enjoying herself to the hilt with another man.
If the submissive husband retains the most vaunted role, the “true love” spot in the wife's heart, then he is secure... But the eroticism of the situation revolves around his insecurity.
As sick and twisted as that may seem, the danger, the insecurity, the abject shame and humiliation are at the core of the “enjoyment” of such an experience.
If I was being cuckolded, I know I would be miserable but I would also be turned on by such a flagrant display of power by my Mistress Wife.
My Wife has, from time to time, made me fall on my knees in pure adoration and lust simply by entertaining the idea that she may, some year in the future, choose to divorce me and keep my as simply her slave. That scenario pushes the same buttons: I would be insecure, no longer legally joined with her as an equal in the eyes of the law, and totally dependent on her. I would not be her submissive husband, just her slaveboy, stripped of all rights.
Now, this is where someone goes ahead and sends me a link to husband abuse information, right? :-)
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Is she just playing with me?
Those of you who have been paying attention know that I am not into the idea of being cuckolded. At the same time, my Mistress Wife and I have had some conversations about this and I can't really tell whether she is just messing with my mind or if she is serious.
The other evening, I took my required shower before bed and presented my nude body to my Mistress for inspection. I asked my nightly question: "May I sleep in your bed tonight, Mistress?" and she said yes. So I hopped into the bed with her. She was dressed in her usual nighty and underwear. She spooned me from behind for a while and then we switched, with me spooning her from behind, and that's how we fell asleep.
I half-awoke in the very early morning with a raging hardon pressed into her underwear. I was aware that I had been rubbing myself into her and there was some precum oozing from me.
"Did you come?" my Mistress Wife asked.
"No." I answered her and slowed down my rubbing.
It's been a while since I've had any release. The last couple of times that Mistress Laura has played with me, she has had me service her with my mouth and with toys to powerful body shaking orgasms while denying me any release. It's her right to expect that kind of service from me without any thought of reciprocation and I am actually very happy that she exercises that right; the fact that she comes when and how she wants and I only get to come with her permission is an important mark of my YMB relationship.
"You can put a condom on and continue to rub yourself against me like that if you want to come," she told me.
I thought about it for a fraction of a second and said, "Thank you Mistress, but I would rather pleasure you." I had been having a very interesting dream, and I was still half in the dream.
"Okay," Mistress Laura said and she rubbed her ass into my crotch. I rubbed myself into her some more while letting my consciousness slip back into dreamland. In a few minutes, I was asleep again.
Later in the day, I tell Mistress Laura about my very erotic dream in the morning. The dream went like this:
Mistress Laura was thrilled and amused at the dream. She probed, "So, are you saying that you wouldn't mind if I brought another boy to the house?"
I answered truthfully: "Well, it was a dream, Mistress. But..." I looked down, blushing. "If you wanted to do something like that and prepped me for it, I would do anything to please you."
She smiled at me and caressed my cheek. I sank down to my knees and she tousled my hair, putting my head in her lap and running her fingers along my neck and shoulders.
"Good boy." She chuckled. "I find it interesting that neither you nor this Joe character got to orgasm, and that I was clothed for much of the dream."
Then, she thought for a second, and said: "That was a good dream, except for one thing."
"What's that, Mistress?"
"You were far too involved in the dream," She said, while caressing my hair.
She continued: "Here's what I would have done. I would have had you strip and kneel naked outside the door of my bedroom, maybe with some clothespins on your nipples. I would tell you to be quiet, and if you do want to make noises, you have to whine like a puppy. Then I would have taken Joe inside and closed the door."
"Mistress, I know I would be kneeling there, listening to you and whining to be let in," I said, my heart in my throat while my cock was rock hard from imagining what she was saying.
"Yes, you would probably be an ill behaved puppy. I would open the door then, clip a leash to your collar, and bring you inside."
I was breathing shallowly, swimming in her words, not knowing whether any of this could happen in real life, but not caring... Her tone of voice was telling me that she was turned on by the idea of humiliating me in this way, and I was turned on by that.
"I would take the penis gag out and force it into your mouth, clipping it in place..." She continued. This time, she had grabbed my hair possessively. I was emotionally miserable and painfully hard.
"Then I would force your face to the floor near the foot of the bed, where I would attach the leash to one of the legs of the bed, with maybe about a foot worth of slack. You would be forced to kneel, with your face on the floor, gagged, at the foot of the bed... Listening to me having fun with some other guy."
She caressed my head and neck for a few seconds more, letting the silence settle. I was feeling the charged sexual electricity of the moment, and the delicious sting of emotional pain... "Oh no, Mistress... I would do anything to please you," I remember thinking in that moment, afraid.
"Kiss my feel, slaveboy," She finally commanded. Then she asked me about my chores for the day and we shifted to other topics.
I have since replayed the above conversation in my mind many times. When I ask her whether or not she is serious, she just smiles and says, "If I was serious, there's nothing you can do about it, is there?"
Gulp.
The other evening, I took my required shower before bed and presented my nude body to my Mistress for inspection. I asked my nightly question: "May I sleep in your bed tonight, Mistress?" and she said yes. So I hopped into the bed with her. She was dressed in her usual nighty and underwear. She spooned me from behind for a while and then we switched, with me spooning her from behind, and that's how we fell asleep.
I half-awoke in the very early morning with a raging hardon pressed into her underwear. I was aware that I had been rubbing myself into her and there was some precum oozing from me.
"Did you come?" my Mistress Wife asked.
"No." I answered her and slowed down my rubbing.
It's been a while since I've had any release. The last couple of times that Mistress Laura has played with me, she has had me service her with my mouth and with toys to powerful body shaking orgasms while denying me any release. It's her right to expect that kind of service from me without any thought of reciprocation and I am actually very happy that she exercises that right; the fact that she comes when and how she wants and I only get to come with her permission is an important mark of my YMB relationship.
"You can put a condom on and continue to rub yourself against me like that if you want to come," she told me.
I thought about it for a fraction of a second and said, "Thank you Mistress, but I would rather pleasure you." I had been having a very interesting dream, and I was still half in the dream.
"Okay," Mistress Laura said and she rubbed her ass into my crotch. I rubbed myself into her some more while letting my consciousness slip back into dreamland. In a few minutes, I was asleep again.
Later in the day, I tell Mistress Laura about my very erotic dream in the morning. The dream went like this:
I am at home, and Mistress Laura comes home, wearing a black dress, lipstick, eye shadow, perfume. There is a guy trailing behind her. He is taller than me, and slightly more muscular, with curly brown hair, sporting a mustache and beard. She motions towards the guy and tells me: "Go get some vodka, kalhua, and milk. I want some drinks and I intend to play around with Joe."
I obey, going to a local liquor store. By the time I come back home, she is already fooling around with this guy, kissing, groping, limbs intertwined. I put the drinks on the counter and watch as she pointedly strips Joe naked and starts fondling him, making him hard.
Looking at me, while fondling Joe's hard member, she says: "Strip, slaveboy, and come here and kiss my neck from behind."
I hurriedly undress and start rubbing myself on my Mistress Wife from behind. She is still mostly dressed. I am kissing her shoulder, licking the nape of her neck, and Joe is rubbing himself on her front, his hands roaming all over her body. At one point, he and she are french kissing and his hand is under her dress, massaging her beautiful breasts.
Next, she takes both of us into her bedroom and ends up on top of Joe, bouncing up and down on his cock, while I am licking and kissing her breasts and sucking on her nipples. She comes hard, while twisting Joe's nipple with one hand and grabbing my hair and pushing my face into her chest with the other hand.
"That was nice, boys." Mistress Laura says, while rolling off the bed and putting a robe on. She has me bring drinks for the three of us. That was the end of the dream.
Mistress Laura was thrilled and amused at the dream. She probed, "So, are you saying that you wouldn't mind if I brought another boy to the house?"
I answered truthfully: "Well, it was a dream, Mistress. But..." I looked down, blushing. "If you wanted to do something like that and prepped me for it, I would do anything to please you."
She smiled at me and caressed my cheek. I sank down to my knees and she tousled my hair, putting my head in her lap and running her fingers along my neck and shoulders.
"Good boy." She chuckled. "I find it interesting that neither you nor this Joe character got to orgasm, and that I was clothed for much of the dream."
Then, she thought for a second, and said: "That was a good dream, except for one thing."
"What's that, Mistress?"
"You were far too involved in the dream," She said, while caressing my hair.
She continued: "Here's what I would have done. I would have had you strip and kneel naked outside the door of my bedroom, maybe with some clothespins on your nipples. I would tell you to be quiet, and if you do want to make noises, you have to whine like a puppy. Then I would have taken Joe inside and closed the door."
"Mistress, I know I would be kneeling there, listening to you and whining to be let in," I said, my heart in my throat while my cock was rock hard from imagining what she was saying.
"Yes, you would probably be an ill behaved puppy. I would open the door then, clip a leash to your collar, and bring you inside."
I was breathing shallowly, swimming in her words, not knowing whether any of this could happen in real life, but not caring... Her tone of voice was telling me that she was turned on by the idea of humiliating me in this way, and I was turned on by that.
"I would take the penis gag out and force it into your mouth, clipping it in place..." She continued. This time, she had grabbed my hair possessively. I was emotionally miserable and painfully hard.
"Then I would force your face to the floor near the foot of the bed, where I would attach the leash to one of the legs of the bed, with maybe about a foot worth of slack. You would be forced to kneel, with your face on the floor, gagged, at the foot of the bed... Listening to me having fun with some other guy."
She caressed my head and neck for a few seconds more, letting the silence settle. I was feeling the charged sexual electricity of the moment, and the delicious sting of emotional pain... "Oh no, Mistress... I would do anything to please you," I remember thinking in that moment, afraid.
"Kiss my feel, slaveboy," She finally commanded. Then she asked me about my chores for the day and we shifted to other topics.
I have since replayed the above conversation in my mind many times. When I ask her whether or not she is serious, she just smiles and says, "If I was serious, there's nothing you can do about it, is there?"
Gulp.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Busy boy and some quotes
The last few days have been busy, and I've been unusually swamped with work, so I've neglected to post much. I'll be writing more over the next few days. Here are a few fun quotes from my Mistress Wife:
In the middle of a conversation where I am starting to get unnecessarily argumentative, while taking out her "little black book" (where she writes down transgressions that she punishes me for later):
Talking to some friends in my presence:
Talking about her control over our sex life:
Discussing our relationship with me:
In the middle of a conversation where I am starting to get unnecessarily argumentative, while taking out her "little black book" (where she writes down transgressions that she punishes me for later):
"Would you please repeat that, slaveboy?"
Talking to some friends in my presence:
"He's just a little boy at heart who needs guidance and discipline. That's what I'm here for."
Talking about her control over our sex life:
"You guys always want what you can't have. If I take control of not just your orgasms, but also ration your chances to lick my pussy, you crave it. I get the double benefit of not just getting you to do what I want, but also rewarding you with my pleasure."
Discussing our relationship with me:
"FLR? LFA? TPE? ABC? Whatever!!! What we have is a YMB. You're My Bitch!"
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Fiction: Fully Under Her Spell (Hypnosis, Domination)
[ed: The following is a work in progress. Feedback and encouragement to continue are welcome.]
I don't really know what came over me. I guess in some ways, I was just testing the boundaries, seeing how far my wife would let me slide. Her parents were visiting from the East Coast and she was going to be spending the day with them, sight seeing.
I was supposed to be cleaning house. Instead, I had spent the day sitting on the couch, drinking beers and watching ESPN. The coffee table had four empty beer cans on it and I vaguely remembered that there was a fifth one around someplace. There was a cheesy greasy plate of nacho crumbs on the couch next to me, the remnant of the nachos and cheese plate I had microwaved and eaten a couple of hours before.
I was wearing my comfortable sweats and a dirty T-shirt, still buzzed from my last beer, when she walked in. The look on her face was priceless! I'd like to say it was worth it, but it wasn't.
She was stunned, of course. I had always done exactly what she had asked me to do, without complaining; in fact, I had been eager to do it. This day, for whatever reasons, I just didn't. Like an old ratty sweater, I had slipped on the comfortable habits of my bachelor days: spectator sports, beers, greasy snacks. The only thing missing was my college buddies to play billiards with; of course, the bililards table was sold off cheap at the first garage sale that we had soon after we got married.
After a few moments of just looking at me, she asked in a calm voice "Is this how you've been spending your day?"
"Yes honey... I just thought I'd watch a little TV, and then I got sucked in and lost track of time," I was a little sheepish, but not really sorry. I had a fun day being a lazy slob.
I expected her to get angry, and I am guessing that she was angry, but she didn't show it. Instead, she just sat down next to me and put her hand on my thigh.
"You've had a hard couple of days, haven't you?" She began. Her hand was lightly stroking my leg from just above the knee to right below my hips. "And I'm guessing that somehow you needed to do this... Just sitting on the couch, like you are right now, and watching TV, like you are right now, and feeling my hand on your thigh... like you are right now... listening to the sound of my voice... like you are right now... Feels good, doesn't it?"
I was almost falling asleep, since her voice was so soothing and melodic. It was like all my attention was slowly being focused on her hand and unexpectedly, all my defensiveness was melting away. She had crept into my world slowly and without much resistance.
"You like the way you are feeling right now, don't you my boy?" She continued. I nodded.
"That's right..." She continued. "You know... It's easy to feel good... And you can stay right here... on this spot..."
She tapped my thigh lightly with her hand and the bottom fell out of my mind; I suddenly felt unmoored, floating. My breathing was deep and regular, and I felt as if I was in two places at once.
"That's right... You only need to stay right here... Only going into trance... as quickly as you feel good... It feels good to let go... letting go of control is why I am here, isn't it?"
She stood in front of me and tapped my right hand and then my left hand.
"You're going deeper and deeper now... I wonder which of your hands, my little boy, is going to raise up, almost of its own accord... Can you feel it lifting? Just a little bit? As you breathe in... Can you feel it lifting? Almost like a helium balloon is tied to it?... Or maybe like you have a question in class... Maybe you are curious too, about which one or both of your hands are going to raise up... do you want to ask your teacher something, my boy? Who is in control? I wonder... as I talk to each of both of you... It might surprise you... or not... maybe you can begin to sense it now... Oh my! It looks like both of your hands are lifting... up... up... UP... That's a good boy... Who is in control?"
To my amazement, both of my hands were raised as high as they could go, above my head. She grabbed the t-shirt I was wearing and pulled it off, while continuing to talk. I felt as if I could not move my arms from their position above my head. In fact, I was beginning to suspect that I could not move any part of my body.
With another light touch on my shoulder, she had me leaning backwards into the couch so that she could pull the sweats off. I was naked, immobile, and she was still fully dressed from her night out.
Her patter continued and I felt more and more relaxed, still floating, feeling like all my attention had become focused on her and her voice.
"And now, my boy... It's time for me to have some fun at your expense..."
She moved behind me and placed my hands together, where they seemed to stay, and continued to weave her spell.
"I'm sure you've begun to notice your awkward position... Sitting naked on the couch... with your hands above your head... You might even try to move... but you can't, can you?"
I tried to move my fingers and pull my hands apart. I couldn't do it!
"Uh... Ma'am... What are you doing to me?" I managed to ask.
"Part of you knows exactly what I am doing, my boy," she said. "You can't move... You are helplessly under my spell... You like that, I know." She glanced down at my penis, which had become completely erect. She walked around the couch, surveying the room. I tried again to pull my arms apart, but I couldn't. There were no ropes, but her hold over me was stronger than any ropes or chains.
To Be Continued?
I don't really know what came over me. I guess in some ways, I was just testing the boundaries, seeing how far my wife would let me slide. Her parents were visiting from the East Coast and she was going to be spending the day with them, sight seeing.
I was supposed to be cleaning house. Instead, I had spent the day sitting on the couch, drinking beers and watching ESPN. The coffee table had four empty beer cans on it and I vaguely remembered that there was a fifth one around someplace. There was a cheesy greasy plate of nacho crumbs on the couch next to me, the remnant of the nachos and cheese plate I had microwaved and eaten a couple of hours before.
I was wearing my comfortable sweats and a dirty T-shirt, still buzzed from my last beer, when she walked in. The look on her face was priceless! I'd like to say it was worth it, but it wasn't.
She was stunned, of course. I had always done exactly what she had asked me to do, without complaining; in fact, I had been eager to do it. This day, for whatever reasons, I just didn't. Like an old ratty sweater, I had slipped on the comfortable habits of my bachelor days: spectator sports, beers, greasy snacks. The only thing missing was my college buddies to play billiards with; of course, the bililards table was sold off cheap at the first garage sale that we had soon after we got married.
After a few moments of just looking at me, she asked in a calm voice "Is this how you've been spending your day?"
"Yes honey... I just thought I'd watch a little TV, and then I got sucked in and lost track of time," I was a little sheepish, but not really sorry. I had a fun day being a lazy slob.
I expected her to get angry, and I am guessing that she was angry, but she didn't show it. Instead, she just sat down next to me and put her hand on my thigh.
"You've had a hard couple of days, haven't you?" She began. Her hand was lightly stroking my leg from just above the knee to right below my hips. "And I'm guessing that somehow you needed to do this... Just sitting on the couch, like you are right now, and watching TV, like you are right now, and feeling my hand on your thigh... like you are right now... listening to the sound of my voice... like you are right now... Feels good, doesn't it?"
I was almost falling asleep, since her voice was so soothing and melodic. It was like all my attention was slowly being focused on her hand and unexpectedly, all my defensiveness was melting away. She had crept into my world slowly and without much resistance.
"You like the way you are feeling right now, don't you my boy?" She continued. I nodded.
"That's right..." She continued. "You know... It's easy to feel good... And you can stay right here... on this spot..."
She tapped my thigh lightly with her hand and the bottom fell out of my mind; I suddenly felt unmoored, floating. My breathing was deep and regular, and I felt as if I was in two places at once.
"That's right... You only need to stay right here... Only going into trance... as quickly as you feel good... It feels good to let go... letting go of control is why I am here, isn't it?"
She stood in front of me and tapped my right hand and then my left hand.
"You're going deeper and deeper now... I wonder which of your hands, my little boy, is going to raise up, almost of its own accord... Can you feel it lifting? Just a little bit? As you breathe in... Can you feel it lifting? Almost like a helium balloon is tied to it?... Or maybe like you have a question in class... Maybe you are curious too, about which one or both of your hands are going to raise up... do you want to ask your teacher something, my boy? Who is in control? I wonder... as I talk to each of both of you... It might surprise you... or not... maybe you can begin to sense it now... Oh my! It looks like both of your hands are lifting... up... up... UP... That's a good boy... Who is in control?"
To my amazement, both of my hands were raised as high as they could go, above my head. She grabbed the t-shirt I was wearing and pulled it off, while continuing to talk. I felt as if I could not move my arms from their position above my head. In fact, I was beginning to suspect that I could not move any part of my body.
With another light touch on my shoulder, she had me leaning backwards into the couch so that she could pull the sweats off. I was naked, immobile, and she was still fully dressed from her night out.
Her patter continued and I felt more and more relaxed, still floating, feeling like all my attention had become focused on her and her voice.
"And now, my boy... It's time for me to have some fun at your expense..."
She moved behind me and placed my hands together, where they seemed to stay, and continued to weave her spell.
"I'm sure you've begun to notice your awkward position... Sitting naked on the couch... with your hands above your head... You might even try to move... but you can't, can you?"
I tried to move my fingers and pull my hands apart. I couldn't do it!
"Uh... Ma'am... What are you doing to me?" I managed to ask.
"Part of you knows exactly what I am doing, my boy," she said. "You can't move... You are helplessly under my spell... You like that, I know." She glanced down at my penis, which had become completely erect. She walked around the couch, surveying the room. I tried again to pull my arms apart, but I couldn't. There were no ropes, but her hold over me was stronger than any ropes or chains.
To Be Continued?
Monday, September 11, 2006
September-Eleventh-Fatigue. Am I the only one?
This post isn't about my relationship.
I know what I want to say is probably not politically correct... Especially since I had some friends who died on this day five years ago at the hand of Islamo-Fascists...
The media is currently doing its 24 hour cry-fest of personal stories aimed at the viewer's feelings and attempting to evoke grieving and healing. Am I the only one who is sick and tired of it?
Personally, I moved past the shock and the grieving a year or two ago, and I've been coasting at the "Let's just kick some ass" stage. Am I the only one who feels this way?
I know what I want to say is probably not politically correct... Especially since I had some friends who died on this day five years ago at the hand of Islamo-Fascists...
The media is currently doing its 24 hour cry-fest of personal stories aimed at the viewer's feelings and attempting to evoke grieving and healing. Am I the only one who is sick and tired of it?
Personally, I moved past the shock and the grieving a year or two ago, and I've been coasting at the "Let's just kick some ass" stage. Am I the only one who feels this way?
After much work, I get to wear girlie things again!
In "Drilling, Training and Treats" I talked about how I lost the right to wear any girlie clothes or my party shoes. Mistress Laura has been deliberate and methodical and has used the extra leverage of knowing that even though I am embarrassed by wearing the items of lingerie and the high heels, I crave being able to wear them for her.
So, this last weekend started out as a lot of my weekends with Mistress Laura do: She told me when to be home on Friday and that she had a list of items for me to take care of. She also informed me that we were going to do an attitude adjustment session sometime this weekend, but that the timing was up to her. It might happen on Friday evening or it might happen on Sunday. I don't like ambiguity, but it's really her perogative, and I can't complain. :-)
When I got home from work, she told me to strip, get myself cleaned up (quick shower) and present myself to her and she would tell me her plans. So, I did as I was told, kneeling in front of her with nothing on but her collar and my wedding ring. Incidentally, she has taken to calling my wedding ring my "man collar"; she wears no wedding ring herself.
"You've been a very good boy all week," She began. "I've been thinking about letting you wear some of your girlie clothing again. Do you think you deserve it?"
"Only if you think so, Mistress," I said. I've learned not to be too eager or too cock-sure in my answers. Whether or not I deserve something is entirely up to her, and I have tried to rid myself of notions of "fairness" based on a sense of entitlement in my relationship with my Mistress Wife. She likes it better that way.
She smiled at that answer and told me that I would get to wear the softest silkiest black panties with lace tonight, while I was cleaning house, and she also told me that we were going to be rearranging a couple of rooms. So, I happily went and got the little black "Jockey" brand black lacey panties and put them on.
The rest of the weekend was spent in heightened anticipation of my upcoming attitude adjustment session and being bossed around by my lovely wife, while wearing girlie panties.
She brought up the attitude adjustment session a few times, saying that while I had generally been good this last week, I still needed to be spanked, and that she would keep track of minor transgressions and add 5-10 strokes to the caning that she planned to give me. This had the effect of making me blush with shame and desire every time she mentioned it.
Meanwhile, she worked me. I was cleaning, moving boxes, rearranging pieces of furniture, emptying and packing things all weekend, all the while cooking for her, bringing her drinks, giving her shoulder rubs and foot rubs at her whim.
On Sunday, she finally told me that she will actually get to give me my beating that evening. I was to get completely naked, lay out her paddle and cane, and to get my high heel shoes and put them on the bed, next to the paddle and cane, and be waiting on all fours on the floor in the bedroom.
I was tired, but I was aroused by the entire process: putting out her paddle and cane, putting my high heeled shoes on the bed, and waiting on all fours for her. By the time she came into the bedroom, I was rock hard and producing precum.
She touched my hard cock with her toes and chuckled, then ordered me onto the bed.
"Since you've been such a good girl this weekend, I'm going to let you wear your pretty shoes again. But only your shoes." She told me, pointing to my shoes. "I want you naked for me tonight."
I felt very happy to be able to wear the high heeled shoes for her.
Next, she pronounced that she would give me 50 strokes of the cane. I don't know why, but I usually can withstand a lot higher numbers, but this time, the fifty swats were hitting my pain tolerance (maybe I was feeling anxious or otherwise not up to par).
At the end of the beating, I slid off the bed and kissed her feet, saying "Thank you Mistress." I felt peaceful.
We ended the weekend by watching a DVD. Mistress Laura sat in her chair, and I was naked, except for my party shoes on, sitting on the floor at her feet.
So, this last weekend started out as a lot of my weekends with Mistress Laura do: She told me when to be home on Friday and that she had a list of items for me to take care of. She also informed me that we were going to do an attitude adjustment session sometime this weekend, but that the timing was up to her. It might happen on Friday evening or it might happen on Sunday. I don't like ambiguity, but it's really her perogative, and I can't complain. :-)
When I got home from work, she told me to strip, get myself cleaned up (quick shower) and present myself to her and she would tell me her plans. So, I did as I was told, kneeling in front of her with nothing on but her collar and my wedding ring. Incidentally, she has taken to calling my wedding ring my "man collar"; she wears no wedding ring herself.
"You've been a very good boy all week," She began. "I've been thinking about letting you wear some of your girlie clothing again. Do you think you deserve it?"
"Only if you think so, Mistress," I said. I've learned not to be too eager or too cock-sure in my answers. Whether or not I deserve something is entirely up to her, and I have tried to rid myself of notions of "fairness" based on a sense of entitlement in my relationship with my Mistress Wife. She likes it better that way.
She smiled at that answer and told me that I would get to wear the softest silkiest black panties with lace tonight, while I was cleaning house, and she also told me that we were going to be rearranging a couple of rooms. So, I happily went and got the little black "Jockey" brand black lacey panties and put them on.
The rest of the weekend was spent in heightened anticipation of my upcoming attitude adjustment session and being bossed around by my lovely wife, while wearing girlie panties.
She brought up the attitude adjustment session a few times, saying that while I had generally been good this last week, I still needed to be spanked, and that she would keep track of minor transgressions and add 5-10 strokes to the caning that she planned to give me. This had the effect of making me blush with shame and desire every time she mentioned it.
Meanwhile, she worked me. I was cleaning, moving boxes, rearranging pieces of furniture, emptying and packing things all weekend, all the while cooking for her, bringing her drinks, giving her shoulder rubs and foot rubs at her whim.
On Sunday, she finally told me that she will actually get to give me my beating that evening. I was to get completely naked, lay out her paddle and cane, and to get my high heel shoes and put them on the bed, next to the paddle and cane, and be waiting on all fours on the floor in the bedroom.
I was tired, but I was aroused by the entire process: putting out her paddle and cane, putting my high heeled shoes on the bed, and waiting on all fours for her. By the time she came into the bedroom, I was rock hard and producing precum.
She touched my hard cock with her toes and chuckled, then ordered me onto the bed.
"Since you've been such a good girl this weekend, I'm going to let you wear your pretty shoes again. But only your shoes." She told me, pointing to my shoes. "I want you naked for me tonight."
I felt very happy to be able to wear the high heeled shoes for her.
Next, she pronounced that she would give me 50 strokes of the cane. I don't know why, but I usually can withstand a lot higher numbers, but this time, the fifty swats were hitting my pain tolerance (maybe I was feeling anxious or otherwise not up to par).
At the end of the beating, I slid off the bed and kissed her feet, saying "Thank you Mistress." I felt peaceful.
We ended the weekend by watching a DVD. Mistress Laura sat in her chair, and I was naked, except for my party shoes on, sitting on the floor at her feet.
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