A submissive story

Career = gutterball

2008-08-11T23:55:00.002-02:00

i work in one of the industries being killed by the Internet. It's literally like being in an airplane and watching the bolts jiggling loose as it starts to fall apart.

Today, my bolt came loose. i was laid-off. My boss told me last week. Told me before he was supposed to. It's like being hit with a sledge-hammer. You never think it's going to happen to you. But in another way, it's liberating. I can start anew. It's just that i'm not drawing a paycheck while i'm starting over. And that's distressing. As well as stressing.

Domina has been truly wonderful through this. Supportive and giving and concerned. She's making all the right moves. We went to dinner tonight and she picked up the check. Later, we watched a cool movie that she picked out. i massaged her feet and legs, and then she pulled me close to her and we cuddled. It was very nice. We even made out after the movie. i haven't made out with a Domme since Suzanne, and she was a Domme only in the bedroom.

So it really baffles me that i'm not feeling it in the gut yet with Domina. And it baffles me that i don't really know why.

Maybe it's too soon after Mistress A. Maybe it's sort of like the Groucho Marx line: i'd never want to belong to a club that would have somebody like me as a member. Maybe it's hard for me to feel loved because my mother used it as a weapon when i was a kid. Maybe i'm just not attracted to her.

But here i am. In a relationship with a pro Domme. Who loves to play. Who's into chastity. Who's determined to cuckold me eventually. Who loves to torture me and is very, very good at it. Who loves to play with my nipples. Who loves for me to worship her pussy. Who is obviously falling for me. Who is offering me the dream relationship i've always sought. With a Domme i should be falling head over heels for.

Why am i not feeling it? i mean, WTF?

Maybe, as a friend suggests, i'm afraid of being disappointed again. And disappointment was the chief emotion i felt when Mistress A and i separated. Maybe it's all the career stuff as well. i just so appreciate how Domina has been there for me in little ways. And as she held me last night, i did feel some of that resistance slipping away.

Sometimes, it's the little things that make all the difference.

Sweet release

2008-08-01T00:57:00.002-02:00

My entries are about month behind real-time. But let me jump ahead to this.

i've known Domina for just over a month now. And, aside from the first week i knew her, she's kept me chaste. Last weekend, it'd been a month since i'd cum and i was aching for release.

She was threatening to milk me so i could cum without an orgasm. She teased me that she'd googled the term "prostrate massage." She said she'd been looking at a CB-6000 on-line. i don't know what was my greater fear: that she wouldn't allow me to orgasm last week, or that she would and then she'd slap on the CB-6000 and lock it on.

Thankfully, she allowed me to cum. But not before i'd help bring her to 3 or 4 orgasms. i was lying on her floor, my nipples aching and sore. My body had just absorbed a nasty corporal punishment session. i was crazy hot with lust for her. She'd teased kissing me on the lips.

At last, i was told to lie down. "You can cum," she said. As i started to furiously masturbate, she knelt beside me. And i looked her in the eyes as i jerked off. That's her rule. i can't close my eyes, i can only look into her eyes.

It was humiliating to have to look at her as i did something so private as jerking off. i was so wanton, so depraved, so aching to cum that it didn't matter.

And when i shot, it was like i was a teenager again. i sprayed everywhere. The release was deep and as intense an orgasm as i've ever felt.

Then she did the unspeakable. She wiped up a big gob of my cum on her finger and fed it to me. Again and again and again. It's one thing to fantasize about eating your own cum. It's another to actually do it. Because you're sated. You're over it. And yet, even with the immediate horniness gone, you still do it. You lick your own cum off her fingers. And swallow it. Like your cum isn't good enough for her. And so you just lick it off her fingers.

While she laughs that evil laugh. Knowing what it's doing to you. Knowing how she's slowly taking control.

A new chapter

2008-07-25T20:49:00.002-02:00

It's been a long time since i've updated this blog, a long time since i've even been interested in it. Looking back, i suppose it was part of the healing process. But for a while, i completely lost interest in BDSM and anything to do with it.

Of course, the need eventually came back. There's really nothing i can do about that.

During this time, i also went back to see my old therapist. And, for the first time, told her about my BDSM side. It's the first time i've revealed that to someone in the vanilla world. She may not understand a lot about it, but she's been very supportive to the point of encouraging me to venture out into the personals world and seeing if i could meet someone.

The funny thing is that Domina was not even on my radar. i'd emailed her twice years ago, and didn't receive a response either time. i saw her profile on collar me and was still attracted to her picture and her profile, but she was looking for clients, not a personal relationship.

Then i discovered the function where you can see who's checking you out. And i realized that had been checking me out on a very regular basis. When i went to her profile, i saw a note at the bottom that said she was looking for a personal slave.

i didn't really fit; she was searching for a service slave to take care of her apartment and run errands, etc. etc. And i just don't have the time necessary to devote to that role.

So we're figuring out another role for me. And so far, so good. Despite the opening round, we're moving slowly. But she definitely enjoys making me suffer. She gets this gleam in her eyes. And a grin that is purely evil.

i like that about her.

Domina

2008-07-20T02:42:00.004-02:00

i first saw Domina on alt, god, four or five years ago. Her eyes were piercing. i was immediately attracted to her. i read her profile. We shared a lot of interests. She was as eclectic as i am. i sent her an email. And never heard from her. Unphased, i sent her another email a couple of weeks later. i was VERY attracted to her. And heard nothing.

Through the years, i've looked at her profile. And especially in the past few months. i learned Domina is a professional. And i'm just beyond professional sessions. Not after Suzanne. Or Mistress A.

Over on collar, i noticed that Domina had been looking at my profile. One day. Then the next. And the next. And i wondered why. She's a pro. Finally, i looked at her profile. There was a note. She was looking for a personal slave. And i immediately started an email to her:

Dear Domina,

I was very excited to see your note that you are now looking for a personal slave. Please allow me to respectfully and humbly apply for that position.

I’m single, quite submissive and experienced in BDSM. ... Of course, a D/s relationship is also a relationship and has to go beyond D/s. I’m mature, well-rounded, confident and at-ease with who I am. I have a wide variety of interests, and I’m usually quite able of going with the flow. I’m a good listener, and my friends know me as someone who’s supportive and empathetic and caring.

I’m very much into pleasing the woman who owns me. It makes me happy to make the woman I serve happy. That’s a part of my essence, as well.

So is BDSM. I’m not only naturally submissive, I’ve been told that I’m a natural masochist. It can make for a dangerous, and interesting, combination.

I’ve experienced extremes, and know that I need extremes. I also need connection and emotion and trust. I’m not interested in professional sessions. I’m not interested in vanilla women who like to “play around.” I want to go deep. I want to be pushed. I want to suffer for the woman I serve. I don’t know where that need comes from — to love, serve, obey and suffer. I just know it exists.

Your profile asks for interests. Oh, my god … almost everything. My fetish is submission. It’s the surrender. Suffering for a woman’s pleasure and amusement. Literally, there’s not a category mentioned in your profile that I’m not interested in. I have very responsive nipples; well, that is an understatement, actually. Assplay. And strap-ons; I’ve never been fucked by a woman wearing a strap-on, and it’s one of my deepest desires. Beyond the physical pain and pleasure, there’s the utter and complete submission it invokes.

Whips and canes and crops. Humiliation. Watersports; I’ve never drank a woman’s piss or been pissed on but another deep desire. Chastity and orgasm control. Verbal abuse. Electrical play, something else that’s intrigued me but I’ve never experienced. Queening. Foot worship. Begging. Oh, my god, where do I stop?

And at what point do I simply become a complete and total slut?

I must confess that I am very attracted to you via the photos on your profile and on your website. Your eyes are piercing and beautiful, and your face is just … gorgeous.

I’ve probably gone on too long, but you have inspired me. If nothing else, I am thankful to you for that. This is will sound like a line but it is completely true: Of all the profiles I’ve seen on collar.me, your’s has always been one that intrigued and attracted me the most. And I was truly excited to see that you desire a personal slave and servant.

I only hope that I offer what you are looking for.

i sent that on a Sunday morning. That evening, i was kissing her asshole.

It started fast, but it's felt right.

Way down in the hole

2008-03-09T03:15:00.005-02:00

When a relationship falls apart, your life falls apart, too.

The givens in your life change. The things you count on. Your routines. The person you go to for comfort, for companionship, for strength, for sexual direction, that person is suddenly gone from your life. It's like a piece of your being has been suddenly — and not so exactly — sliced out of your very essence.

Mistress A and i parted amiably and vowed to salvage our friendship. As well-intended as that was, it's proven impossible. There's still too much raw emotion.

i've dealt with my extreme sadness, in part, by remembering Suzanne and writing about her. i did that because it's a safe spot. It's a place where i've dealt with the sadness, it's a place where the sadness is contained. So i kind of used it as a catch basin for the sadness i felt when Mistress A released me. And that helped.

i truthfully don't know whether this blog will continue. At this point, i don't even know whether i am going to pursue another D/s relationship. At the moment, i've just lost all interest in BDSM because i associate it too closely with Mistress A.

What happened had to happen. i understand that intellectually, but haven't reached that point emotionally. i'm healing, but it's a slow process. If i did BDSM with someone right now, i think i'd just fall apart. i've been immersed in a work project for the past couple of weeks, and it was almost welcome because it took me away from the sadness.

i have a vanilla possibility, a woman i knew from tennis. i've invited her to dinner and she accepted. From here, i'll just see what happens.

i know in my heart of hearts that vanilla sex simply doesn't fully satisfy me. But i feel i need an injection of it. i want to hold a woman. i want to feel my cock deep inside her because there's something incredibly intimate about that moment.

Beyond that, i don't know. Eventually. Someday. But not now.

Suzanne, the finale

2008-02-26T02:33:00.005-02:00

The Miles Davis story is indicative of the magic i felt with Suzanne. Every moment felt special. We were so attuned, so deep into each other's souls that it hurts even today to think about. How did i lose that? What the fuck happened? She is the love of my life. Why am i not with her today?

After a time, she got bored. And broke. She had quit her job to go back home to the West Coast, and then she came back to be with me. And she'd just quit the logical job for her to have. She was also getting pressure from her family — they'd been eager for her to be home; she was, and then she wasn't. They didn't understand. They just wanted her back.

So Suzanne went home. She was going to get a Christmas job. Then come back. But both of us knew. When i took her to the airport and she walked away from me and i watched her turn the corner, in my heart of hearts i knew i'd never ever see her again.

In the weeks to follow, we were crazy. We talked on the phone for hours, and this was before cells. i felt like a hole had exploded deep in my soul. i ached for her. i yearned for her to come back. We were talking about me moving to the West Coast. We talked about her moving to the South because i, too, wanted to go home. i missed my family. i missed my friends.

Then one night, the impossible happened. i was at a small party. One of the guests was maybe the most beautiful blonde i've ever seen. There were strange vibes that night. At the same party was the most beautiful redhead i've ever seen. i was there with my best friend, and he knew both of them. At some point, i realized they were competing for me. Which just, you know, boggled the mind. Me? And i'm serious. These two women were ... still are two of the most beautiful women i've ever laid eyes on.

The blonde won. i tried. i really did. And i'm not very proud of what happened. i loved Suzanne more than any woman i've ever loved. i felt very faithful to her. i felt true to her. But there was this blonde. And she was hot. And she was very obviously seducing me. i begged my best friend to save me from myself. He just laughed; he didn't understand the stakes. And so it happened. i gave into it. i took the hot blonde home.

Immediately, i knew. i'd torn the fabric. i'd convinced myself that, okay, i'm going to be with Suzanne for a long, long time and this will be my final fling. Brilliant rationalization. Fueled by alcohol. And this fucking gorgeous woman. Nordic. Natural blonde. Hard body. An ass you wouldn't believe.

It felt like God herself was testing me, trying to see how deep my love for Suzanne really was, and i failed miserably. i cheated on her. Ha, if only we'd known about chastity devises.

After that, things changed. It was the tear. i'd stained something pure and true. i'd cheated.

i never told Suzanne. But it fractured our connection and, thus, our relationship. We stayed in contact. She's very unhappily married with two children. And with alarming regularity, we torture each other by reminding each other how much we're still in love. We haven't emailed now in nearly two years. The last time, it was too intense. But we know. We still love each other. And we still both wish we were together. Our connection will never die.

And we both dream about what can never be reality.

Which is the saddest part of all.

No, the saddest part is that i'd found perfect love and i stained it. i ruined it. And there you go. The one major regret i'll always have. Always.

Suzanne, the bridge

2008-02-20T02:31:00.001-02:00

The connection with Suzanne was so deep that it almost seemed mystical. Strange things kept happening to us. Like this:

We were walking up a street in the Village. It was a Sunday morning, fairly early, and not many people were out. We were on a lazy hunt for brunch. Suddenly, i heard Miles Davis playing in the distance, a song from his Kind of Blue album. That was cool. i'd turned Suzanne on to Miles. We often listened to that album late at night.

As we walked up the street, i started to realize that it wasn't the album playing. It was a solitary trumpet. We came up on a record store that had old album covers pasted on the window. It was dark because it was a Sunday morning. And hidden back in the doorway was a kid. He was dressed up in a suit, and he was playing the trumpet. It was gold. Shined so clean it carried reflections. And the kid played Miles like a master.

We stood and listened for a few minutes. He never acknowledged us until we moved to leave. He nodded once, as if he sensed our love and understood that this music was the soundtrack to our love.

The next day, we got on a train to go home. A guy in front of us was reading the Times, and i was reading over his shoulder. He flipped the front page over and I saw it across the bottom of the page: "Miles Davis, jazz legend, dies." i alerted Suzanne. This was so sad. Miles was my man. The guy read the story, and i read over his shoulder. Miles had died the previous morning. The guy then flipped to the jump inside the paper to read the rest of the story. And there was a picture of a 20-year-old Miles from Charlie Parker's band.

Suzanne and i saw it at the same moment and gasped. We turned and stared at each other with our mouths open.

i don't know if it was a ghost we saw playing in the doorway of that record shop. But the kid we saw was the spitting image of the 20-year-old Miles Davis.

Therapy

2008-02-15T02:06:00.003-02:00

Judith opened up my file, looked down and said, "I haven't seen you since May 23rd, 2004."

It's been a while. i started seeing her in the aftermath of a vanilla relationship with a woman i thought i'd marry. That was Tall Girl, who had lured me away from Mistress A the first time we saw each other 10 years ago.

Judith helped me weather the storm. And i continued to see her when i got involved with my next vanilla relationship, which turned into a mess. When i moved away in 2004, i was also moving away from that relationship; we'd seriously talked marriage. "Just promise me one thing," Judith said. "Wait nine months before you marry her."

Thank god, and thank god i didn't marry her.

i never told Judith about my BDSM side. At that point in my life, it was very repressed. i was more focused on getting married and having kids. My biological clock was ticking. Now, i'm in a completely different headspace. It's just that i'm not always sure where that headspace is.

i've felt in crisis of late, and called Judith Monday. Today, i went to see her. Mainly because i'm concerned about the anxiety attacks i've had. It was a session of playing catch-up. We weren't five minutes into the session when she asked about my love life.

And so, haltingly, i told her about Mistress A. Judith is the first person outside the scene that i've told about my BDSM side.

It was a little embarrassing. How do you explain this world to an outsider? Someone not into it? She asked me how i liked it, and i said it was fun as hell. i explained to her who Mistress A is within the BDSM world. She wanted to know if i wanted to date now, and i said i wasn't sure i wanted to date someone who isn't also into the scene.

She didn't ask much about it. But one thing is certain: This is one topic she'll want to dig into later.

Suzanne, 4th verse

2008-02-12T23:54:00.002-02:00

Suzanne left two weeks later to go home. That was ordained. Her father was coming to help her pack up and move. i drove them to the airport when they left. Then i went home and cried.

Three weeks later, she came back.

And we proceeded to have the best two months of my life. We were attuned, in sync. As if we could read each other's minds and touch each other's souls. i came home one day and discovered that she had found 10 years of very detailed diaries i'd kept, and read them all. And i didn't care. i even liked that she knew all my secrets.

Our relationship was largely vanilla, except in the bedroom. And there, we were getting scary. She quickly graduated from tying me up with scarves to chaining me to eye-hooks with leather cuffs. She liked to start off teasing me. She'd tie my hands behind me when i was on the couch, then leave me there blind-folded to wonder what was coming next.

She liked to dress up in leather and stockings and garters. She was beautiful in them, sexy beyond belief. Long, long legs. She'd wear sheer, almost see-through bras that held her very ample breasts. i knew she was approaching when i heard the ominous sound of her clicks clicking on the floor. She'd always linger in front me, building anticipation. i couldn't see her or hear her, i could only smell her perfume.

In the background, Robbie Robertson was often playing low on the stereo, "Somewhere Down The Crazy River." Sultry and pulsating. Swampy and lazy.


She said "There's one thing you've got to learn
Is not to be afraid of it."
I said "No, I like it, I like it, it's good."
She said "You like it now
But you'll learn to love it later."

I've been spellbound - falling in trances
I've been spellbound - falling in trances
You give me shivers - chills and fever
I've been spellbound - somewhere down the crazy river

Yes, i was spellbound. By that verse, she had usually begun to tease me. First, she'd place her slave collar around my neck and lock it in tight. Sometimes she sat on my lap and rubbed her nipples in and out of range of my tongue. Sometimes she played with my nipples, licking them with her tongue and then biting down. Sometimes she laid me down and had me kiss her inner thighs. Sometimes she brought out a little cock whip and used it on my inner thighs. And sometimes she did all of the above. And more.

i always tried to drive her so wild with lust that she'd fall out of character and just ravage me then and there. And i managed to do it a couple of times. But mostly she would eventually pull me toward the bedroom and chain me to the eye-hooks. And she would tease my body even more. My nipples were wide open to her. And my ass. She'd chew on my nipples until they were raw, then flick them with her tongue and drive me mad. And she always whipped me. She said she'd never done BDSM before, but she had the instinct for it. Her beatings were always a mix of the sensual and the pain. She knew how to build up, and she knew how to hurt me.

It would always end with exhausting sex. i'd still be bound and she'd climb up on my face, almost smothering me time and time again until she'd orgasmed over and over and was satisfied. Or she'd lie back and give me specific directions on how she wanted me to eat her pussy. And eventually, one way or another, we would make love. And after all the build-up, it was always just ... spiritual.

We were young then, but we still needed recovery time afterwards. The sex completely exhausted us. We'd lie and hold each other tight. And we'd always spend another hour talking about it, what we'd liked and what had surprised us and what we might try next. When we slept, we'd wrap around each other until it was like we were two into one.

Sometimes we'd go into the city on weekends. We didn't check out museums, we'd check out the sex shops in the Village. We quickly discovered the leather stores in and around Christopher St. That's where she had me buy the dog collar, in a pet store. We always bought something new. Everything we encountered was a discovery, something magical and new.

Every day was like that, in one way or another. i've never been so eager to please a woman; i've never been with a woman so eager to please me.

But, today. Today, every sad song i hear reminds of her.

You really got me

2008-02-11T02:45:00.000-02:00

Woke up this morning not feeling great. Feeling a little panicky and anxious. i've never been like this until the past couple of years, and it scares me. i'm already taking happy pills, although at a very low dosage. If i'm taking pills that are supposed to make me happy then, dammit, i should be happy!

i'm sure part of this is emotional fall-out from Mistress A. i miss her. We still email several times a day, and that is good. But, obviously, it's not the same.

i've also been fired from my last two jobs, and i think i'm traumatized by that. Both were bad situations. In one, i refused to bury my ethics, even knowing the consequences. In the other, the boss who hired me left two weeks later and i knew i was screwed, that the new boss would want to bring in his own team. Plus, i'd been promised his job and then it was taken away.

i mean, i've never worried about being fired. i'm very good at what i do. But i was. Twice. So when something goes wrong at my current job, i get very anxious. i get panicky. That's not good. i think i'm going to go see the shrink i used to talk to a few years ago. We have never delved into my BDSM side. That will fucking freak her out.

It's been that kind of day.

A couple of weeks ago, my brother invited me to go see Van Halen tonight. i really didn't want to go; i wanted to sit here and wallow in it.

i went. And it was a fucking great show. My brother picked me up in a limo. We smoked incredible weed. We were 20 feet from the stage. Eddie Van Halen was amazing. David Lee Roth was so gay. But in great voice.

So my blues fade for the day. And that's a good thing.

Suzanne, verse 3

2008-02-09T02:32:00.000-02:00

i'll never forget this moment:

i'm lying half-naked on Suzanne's bed. Blind-folded. My wrists are wrapped in silk scarves, which are tied to the bed's head posts behind me. She is driving me crazy, her mouth around my nipples. At first, licking them with her tongue. Then, as my reaction became more frantic and my moans louder, biting and tugging them.

But she suddenly stopped. And walked away. Leaving me bound, blind and helpless. i heard some rattling around in her kitchen, but couldn't distinguish the sounds. She seemed gone forever until she surprised me by climbing on top of me. i felt her hair on my chest and then her lips around my nipples. But instead of warmth, i felt frigid cold. My body reacted, yet couldn't escape. i was bound. She was astride of me. Ice cubes, i found out later. She had an ice cube in her mouth.

As soon as the cold was removed, it was replaced by extreme heat. Hot tea, i found out later. She kept going from fire to ice, ice to fire. And i was so deep into sub space that i could barely control myself.

Before she sank onto my cock, and yes it was throbbing, she whipped the blindfold off my eyes and we looked at one another as if we were peering into each other's souls. We fucked frantically. We both came. And later, with my tongue, i made her cum again. i made love to her breasts, to her belly, to the back of her knees, to her inner thighs, to her pussy.

Our friend was right. There was electricity. There was fire. There was a connection i doubt i'll ever feel again. Because then it was new. It was the first time. i was in submission to a woman i loved to the depth of my soul. i knew all of her secrets. She knew all of mine.

But she was leaving town in two weeks. She'd quit her job, turned in her resignation. And she was about to move halfway across the world.

Suzanne, 2nd verse

2008-02-06T01:54:00.000-02:00

"i want to tie you up."

She had to say it 2 or 3 times, maybe more, before i was able to give in to it. Give in to her. See, at this point, i was so very inexperienced in BDSM. i'd had one pro session. Period. It was a wonderful experience; the Domme seemed tickled that i was a virgin. She said our session would last about an hour — a little less if she wasn't connecting with me, a little more if she was.

i walked out about three hours later.

But that's a story for another time. When Suzanne told me she wanted to tie me up, i stumbled. i stuttered a response. i couldn't admit my submission. "i want to tie you up," she said again. This time more forcefully. i didn't realize then how brave she was. i just stumbled and stuttered again.

"i 'm going to tie you up," she said. There was no give in her voice. And so i gave in.

We were both so raw. So new to this. So unaware of the details. And yet, it remains the most erotic moment of my life. i'll never have a night like that again. A night full of magic and discovery and sex that was so hot that i thought i'd imploded when we were finished.

As a dominatrix, Suzanne had incredible instincts. She knew just what notes to hit. She'd obviously planned this out. She had me take off my shirt, then laid me on her bed. The headboard was steel, with lots of places where one could tie rope. She didn't use rope though; she used scarves.

As she tied me up, i knew i was falling. The feelings i had for Suzanne were at last uncorked and i was alive with my love for her. And it was exactly the same for her. It was the first time in my life that i'd been head over heels in love with a woman who was head over heels in love with me. And she was into BDSM. Oh, my heart.

Suzanne was tall, with long dark hair. Big-boned. Large breasts, long legs and a lovely ass. Part Native American. Exotic. Beautiful. She was smart and sensitive and giving. She had gorgeous eyes. She also had a wicked imagination.

After she had me tied, she blind-folded me with another scarf. At that point, i was putty in her hands. Wherever she wanted to take me, i was going to go.

She kissed me lightly, teasingly. i realized she was naked when i felt her rub her full breasts over my chest. And then she moved her lips over my nipples. She realized quickly she'd hit my major erogenous zone. She licked them. She bite them. i struggled to escape her. i couldn't because i was bound. And my lust was obvious; her hand was wrapped around my hard cock.

Suzanne kept it up until i was on the edge, thrashing to break the restraints and just ... oh, my god, take her. i was consumed with lust. And that's when she got up and walked away, first making sure that i was still securely bound.

i couldn't go anywhere. i didn't want to go anywhere. i was where i'd always wanted to be, where part of me still wants to be.

Suzanne

2008-02-04T01:37:00.001-02:00

Suzanne was always a magical name for me. i just love the sound of it. Maybe because "Suzanne," by Leonard Cohen, is one of my most beloved songs. The lyrics are so beautiful, so erotically charged:

Suzanne takes you down
To her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her

And you know that she's half crazy
That's why you want to be there
She feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China

And just when you mean to tell her
You have no love to give her
She gets you on her wave length
And she lets the river answer
You've always been her lover

And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know you can trust her
Cause you've touched her perfect body with your mind

i met my real-life Suzanne when i was living in New England 20 years ago. We worked together and became close friends. We both were there from other places; me, the South and she, the West Coast. She helped me through a break-up with the woman from back home i thought i was going to marry, and i helped her through the break-up with the guy from back home that she thought she would marry.

It was after that break-up that i really started to explore my need of submission. i read Exit To Eden and recognized myself in Elliott Slater. i had access to adult bookstores where i could purchase the X-rated newspaper tabloids devoted to female domination. i had my first true D/s experience when i hired a pro.

Suzanne and i felt a kinship. We were both far away from home and lost loves because of our ambition to elevate our careers by moving to this company. But we also kept a mutual distance because we knew there was a strong attraction and we worked together. Even so, we flirted constantly. And i don't remember how, but the teasing eventually got around to a lot of "whips and chains" jokes.

i somehow told her about Exit To Eden. And she wanted to borrow it. i didn't see that book again for six months.

At some point, Suzanne decided she wanted to go home. She felt the tug of family. She felt lonely in New England. She loved California. It was her sense of place. We talked a lot in those weeks. She was frustrated because she couldn't find a job out there. i thought she was brave when she turned in her resignation to return home even though she didn't have a job to go to. She just wanted to be home.

i also began to realize how much i was going to miss her.

i invited her to eat dinner the night she gave her two-week notice. A mutual friend went with us, so it wasn't a "date". The three of us went back to Suzanne's apartment. She was part Native American and, at times, a little out there. For example, she believed in Ouija boards. She communicated with someone named "Art." i know. i'm rolling my eyes, too. And yet ...

It was late. The lights were low. It was the three of us. And Suzanne brought out the Ouija board. She and our friend played first. Nothing happened. In fact, our friend was insulted. Suzanne invited me. i put my fingers on the compass thing and asked a question. It was simple. And the compass thing got it right.

Suzanne asked a question and we went back and forth for a while. Then i asked a question that only i knew the answer to. And it spelled out the right answer. i felt like i was sinking into something. Suddenly, i felt electricity with Suzanne. i felt connected to her in a way i'd never felt connected to a woman. She knew most of my secrets, and i knew many of her's. And yet she had stayed. And playing this silly Ouija board game, our eyes were just burning through one another. As if, finally, now that she was leaving, all bets were off.

Finally, i asked when i would find my true love. "Art" replied something like 2015. Ever being the skeptic, i decided to ask "Art" a silent question. i never asked the question aloud. No one knew what the question was but me: Who is the love of my life?

The compass went to the letter S. It went to the letter Z. It went to the letter A. It went to the letter N. Suzanne later said she thought it was gibberish. But i know i wasn't moving the compass. Our friend didn't know what was happening, but knew something was. She told me later there was nothing but electricty in the room. So she left.

Minutes later, Suzanne looked up and our eyes met. "I want to tie you up," she declared.

And there it began. Oh, my god. Like you wouldn't believe.

Once

2008-02-01T00:56:00.000-02:00

i have fallen in love with Once, an Irish independent movie from last year.

It's about nothing, really. A Czech woman is drawn to a Dublin street musician. He writes his own songs and she is attracted by them. They're both actual musicians, so the music is real. And the acting is tender and true. Kind of like Dexter Gordon in Round Midnight, another favorite movie. The authenticity of the performance makes it riveting.

They are drawn to one another. She knows from his songs that he is in love with a woman who has destroyed him. She has just left her husband, and immigrated to Ireland with her child and mother. She turns out to be a pianist. They have lunch and she plays the piano for him. He pulls out the lyrics to a new song he's written. He starts to play it and tells her the chords. Then she begins to sing with him. It is like they are making love through the music. Connecting to each other. Seeing into each other's souls. Sparks flying.

The song from that scene — "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard of The Frames — I've just fallen in love with, too. At first, it's like he's talking to himself:

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

Then the chorus becomes a plea from his broken heart to this new woman in his life:

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have the choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly
Sing your melody
I'll sing along

The movie has hit the exact right chord with the mood i'm in, and i've watched it two nights in a row. A little melancholy. Yet hopeful for what's to come. Contemplative. Searching. Feeling old tugs. Yet, much less confused about my general state of affairs. Sometimes, i feel that i'm seeing myself with great clarity these days.

That is, when i'm not feeling completely confused.

i don't know when i get "out there" again. Not yet.

i feel that we did the right thing, Mistress A and i. Like the characters in Once, we had to make hard decisions. But Mistress A and i have had our lives touched by each other's presence. Touched in very meaningful ways. We'll carry that within ourselves for the rest of our lives. It is the special and the core of its essence survives. i'm glad for that.

And, yes. Go to Netflix and rent Once.

It is magic.

From there to here

2008-01-29T02:10:00.000-02:00

i so wanted things to work with Mistress A.

i've gone back and read some of the blog from May and June when we suddenly came back into each other's orbits. i had just begun to see Mistress P. But then Mistress A swept in and i was putty. She had me before "hello." From years ago i just never realized what it was, what was our dividing line. Both way back then and now.

Part of me wants to jump right back in. Actively seek out what i yearn for. i did go on collarme.com over the weekend, just to see what's out there. Another part of me urges caution. i don't know if i'm ready to be "out there" again. i ache for it, and yet i feel that i need to heal first. i need to assimilate what's just happened, and figure it out.

Then again, i do feel the urge. The urgency. Of course, there's always the question of where does one go from Mistress A?

That one, i'm still trying to figure out.

A small pool

2008-01-27T14:10:00.000-02:00

There are times in your life when success is surviving. For me, last week was one of those. On top of the emotional turmoil of being released by Mistress A, there was a lot of turmoil in my professional life.

i survived. And i must move on from Mistress A.

i'm sad, but i'm also in a way relieved. Because it wasn't fulfilling either of us. What we had was wonderful, but what we had wasn't enough. For either of us. The relief comes in knowing that we stopped before things were poisoned.

i realize now that when i wrote about a couple of friends in "Finding Balance," and the need to blend vanilla aspects into a BDSM relationship, that i was also writing about myself. And i'm not referring to "boyfriend/girlfriend" things. i refer more to "sex."

For Mistress A, the BDSM itself is the be all and end all. She loves to give a beating. She loves to control. She loves to mind fuck. And she's fucking amazing at all of that.

But it left a deep need in me unmet.

A week or so ago, i emailed my "voice of reason" and told her i was dying for vanilla sex, or at least vanilla sex within a BDSM context. i was aching to kiss a woman's breast, around and around. To flick at her nipple with my tongue, and to suckle it. To trace my lips down her belly, and then to her thighs. To feel her legs open beneath me as i slide down until my lips could lightly kiss the inside of her thighs. To run my tongue up her thighs, then blow cold air on the wetness and follow that with warm kisses.

i just love the feeling of doing that, of pleasing a woman physically. Of brushing my lips over the lips of her pussy, flicking at them with my tongue. Gently biting them, then pushing my tongue deep inside her, my face washed in her wetness. i love the feeling of rolling her clit, with my tongue. Of gently biting it and hearing her moan's and feeling her hands pulling my head into her.

And it's the hottest feeling in the world to feel a woman's thighs squeeze against my ears, almost painfully at times, and to hear her lost in her orgasm. The orgasm i gave her. The pleasure i gave her.

Jesus, god, i miss that.

i miss also the feeling of lying on my back, a woman planted on top of me and riding me as if i'm nothing but a tool of her pleasure. Or ... making me watch while she uses another man for her sexual pleasure, then having me suck his cum out of her pussy. And ... maybe ... clean his cock as well.

i love the BDSM. i crave the BDSM. But i need the sex, too. And that need demands to be fed.

i realize now that became the thing i couldn't overcome the first time Mistress A and i were together 10 years ago. i needed sex. Pure BDSM isn't sex enough for me. i need the combination. And the same issue arose this time as well.

And so i'm back "out there" again. i don't know whether i'll ever find what i'm looking for. And i'll always regret that the one time i had it, i let it slip away.

But i will try because that is the need that drives me. i simply can't do vanilla any longer. There is a woman at my job who works in a different department. It's obvious she's attracted to me. She has a lovely body and a very nice ass. i'm an ass guy. i love a woman with a great ass. But i'm just not interested ... She's vanilla. She has no dominant air. i need that, too. In large measures.

i'm searching for an ideal in a very small pool. Certainly a daunting charge. Is she out there? i can only hope that she is. And that i find her, and she finds me.

Goodbye again

2008-01-21T02:16:00.000-02:00

Mistress A released me today.

It was very mature and amiable, as they say. As well-intentioned as we were, we just didn't mesh in several meaningful areas. And it ultimately left each of us feeling unsatisfied. i'll elaborate later, i'm sure.

But for now, even though i knew this was coming, the fact that it's here makes me very sad and melancholy. Tears have been shed.

We both care deeply about each other. That's one reason to end it now, before it deteriorates and we get angry. Our friendship is genuine. Our connection is genuine. As she mentioned tonight, we've known each other for 12 years. We have a long history. She will always own a part of me. She has since the moment we met, i think. And even if i'm not her slave and she my Mistress, we want to be part of each other's lives.

The bracelet you see pictured in my icon is now removed. It feels very strange not to have it on my wrist. It was the most visible reminder of my slavery to her. She also asked me to take out my nipple piercing. i will probably put the little stainless steel pin back in, or get another ornament; i suffered too much for that hole to just let it close up.

The first blues song i ever heard was Elvis singing, "When It Rains, It Really Pours." i look back on this week, and it has really poured. My life has been turned upside down. i feel bottomed out. At least i hope i've bottomed out. My professional life is on very shaky ground. My personal life just turned way beyond that.

Indeed, when it rains it really pours. God, how it pours.

Tonight

2008-01-20T03:46:00.000-02:00

Needed some brevity today and pulled out old episodes of one of my all-time favorite television series, Northern Exposure. That show calms me, puts me in a good frame of mind. i have most of the episodes on DVD.

In one of the ones i watched, Joel's old flame shows up in Cicely. The woman he was supposed to marry, who wrote him a "dear John" letter after a few.

Funny timing. i'm having lunch with the only woman i ever formally proposed to on Wednesday. i moved away to a cold environment for a job. She was going to follow. She didn't like it there, and so we broke up.

She makes me feel guilty. i feel like i ruined her life. She is in her 40s and unmarried. She's going to be, in Southern terms, an old maid. i'm probably the "big love" of her life even though she's not the "big love" of my life.

Sometimes, i wish i still found her attractive. When we were together, her body was young and taunt. Her breasts were small, but beautifully shaped. She had a nicely-curved ass. And long legs.

Today, she's long past her prime. That's just nature.

Of course, so am i. i just know that she pinned her future on me, and it didn't happen. i did love her. And always will. But i needed the BDSM. i did then, and do now. Ultimately, that's the reason i let her drift away. i loved the vanilla, but i craved the BDSM.

Chillin'

2008-01-19T02:55:00.000-02:00

This has been my "crawl under the covers and hide" night, i think. Only just now fired up the computer. Otherwise, just sitting and thinking and resting.

This weekend

2008-01-18T02:09:00.000-02:00

i am mentally just whipped. And not in a good way. Real life again intrudes on my frame of mind.

Thursday is my begging day. i must beg Mistress A to see her this upcoming weekend. Sent her this email:

Mistress,

i really am dying to see you. i miss you. i need comfort. i'm tired and emotionally spent. And emotionally rattled. Escape would be very nice.

But because of that, i don't know that i'd be any good for you this weekend. i'm so spent, compounded by the shit with my boss today, that i feel absolutely exhausted. i hoped to re-charge today. Well, no.

It was a day that i was absolutely thankful that i had a happy pill to take.

So i want very much to see you. While a part of me just wants to hide. And recover.

i just have no idea of things right now.

i wrote a song tonight. The first time in a long time. "i used to be happy," goes the chorus. Kind of summarizes the frame of mind i'm in right now. And it seemed like only days ago!

Your exhausted slaveyboy

And i am.

Spent

2008-01-17T01:28:00.000-02:00

My project is finished and i feel like a car that's run out of gas. i'm very much like Mistress A when i get involved in one of these things. There's a two-week period where it becomes my obsession. i drift away into another world. i am focused on what i'm putting together.

But at the end, i'm always mentally exhausted. Spent.

Right now, i feel like sleeping. A lot. It was snowing late this afternoon, and that's recently turned to rain and sleet. Out on my balcony, i just saw little icicles forming on the railing. It's a great night to be inside. Watching the Australian Open and vegging.

The rules

2008-01-16T01:52:00.000-02:00

Mistress A has always had rules for me.

When i am with her, i must ask permission for almost everything. To sit. To brush my teeth. To use the bathroom. To shower. To drink a glass of whiskey. She tells me when to go to sleep. When to eat. When i arrive. When i leave. Whether i arrive in a cock cage, or free. Whether i leave in a cock cage. When i cum and how i cum.

When i'm away from her, her rules still prevail. i wear her slave collar around my wrist. i cannot take it off, only she can. It has been on my wrist since the moment she placed it there, a constant reminder of who i am and what i am to her.

Lately, she has formalized a few rules. One, i've written about already: i must blog every day, even if it's a short post.

But there are others.

— Tell her how much she means to me at least once or twice a day

— When she does something nice for me, i must think of some way to express my gratitude. It can be a gift or a special service, but some expression of thanks.

— When i'm with her, i get up on Sunday's and cook a breakfast from a menu of her choice.

— When i am with her, i am to be in bed by 1 a.m. Unless she grants special dispensation.

But her rules extend to even my time away from her. The directive to blog every night. Knowing she controls when i can orgasm and when i can't. Knowing that she can order me to do anything, and i must do it.

i am Mistress A's slave. And the rules remind me of that. They never let me forget.

Fleeting thoughts ...

2008-01-15T03:13:00.000-02:00

Short post tonight. Been working on my project. It's late now and i'm tired.

i did cum tonight. i figure i'd better treasure my orgasms while i can. During a break tonight, i found a blog that has some very hot chastity fiction. Well-written and well thought-through. i imagined Mistress A and being caged and, at last, being released and allowed to cum.

i always cum to thoughts of Mistress A. It's like i have no choice in the matter. Sometimes, i imagine sex with some woman i know or work with. But i can't get hard until i imagine Mistress A. And i can't cum without hearing her whisper in my ear what a slut and whore and slave i am, how i belong to her and how i am owned by her. Without calling out to her and begging her to cum.

The dirty south

2008-01-14T01:44:00.001-02:00

Worried about Mistress A tonight, who is going through a crisis that involves having her BDSM life discovered by someone in the vanilla world. And when you live in a very conservative place, as she does, that is obviously not a good thing.

Thankfully, her situation eventually resolved itself. But only after completely ruining her day.

It's amazing, and most disconcerting, how BDSM is still so incredibly taboo. Even when it's so ingrained into our culture through advertising and the Internet.

Look how long it took gays and lesbians to be even moderately accepted. The BDSM community has no widespread social and political organization to help it gain wider acceptance. In our community, the gay leather community and the lesbian leather community and hetero leather community can barely socialize together, much less come together to fight for rights and acceptance.

America is so repressed when it comes to sex. And especially the South. Where i live, people still get up in arms over adult bookstores. They believe in teaching abstinence, and think it works. They think homosexuality is a Biblical sin. And BDSM? That's just off the charts because it includes just about everything they believe is abhorrent and evil and reviled.

My brother can come out as gay, and he's accepted by my conservative family. i could never come out to them as a BDSM-er. Never. i'm not even out with my friends. There's just too much stigma to it. People on the outside don't know the magic and the beauty of BDSM; they just know the news reports where some psycho abducts and imprisons some poor victim, tortures her and then kills her.

Eventually, the BDSM community is going to have to come together.

As Ben Franklin so eloquently put it: "We must all hang together or we shall surely hang separately."

Finding balance

2008-01-13T00:50:00.000-02:00

A couple of BDSM friends are either ending or considering ending relationships because, in part, their BDSM relationships aren't giving them enough vanilla flavorings.

It's not that they want vanilla relationships. But they do want some of the things that come with vanilla. They are/were in long distance relationships. In one, her Master (now former) is married. In the other, they live in different cities.

They love the BDSM. They love the closeness, the feeling of deep submission. The intimacy. The trust and the surrender. They love being used as sluts and whores. In other words, they love the sex. And what it inspires in the relationship.

But they also miss the little things, the vanilla intimacy beyond the sex. Having someone there to talk to. Having someone to hold at night. Having someone to wake up to in the morning. To go out to restaurants with. To go to movies. Go to parties. Hang out. Talk. Meld two into one.

Part-time can be difficult, because you miss out on many of those things.

It's something probably every submissive who is in something less than a 24/7 relationship knows. And even some who are.

A BDSM relationship is different than a vanilla relationship in almost every way. Especially if the submissive is collared and enslaved. The dynamics are different. The expectations. The sex is especially different.

We grow up indoctrinated into what the definition of a couple is. We grow up with expectations. But we also don't want to be alone. We want to couple. We want to bond. We want a companion. We don't want to be in a relationship and, yet, be lonely.

i'm lucky because i only live 90 minutes away from Mistress A. And i see her on a pretty regular basis. But even so, i feel it, too, sometimes. Sometimes, i miss having someone to go out to eat with. Go to hear music with. Go to movies with.

There are gives and takes. Especially with BDSM. You don't want to be in a relationship and be lonely. And yet, sometimes, you are. You do it as a trade-off for the BDSM. Because that is your driving force. Submission and slavery. And even finding a BDSM relationship can take years. Which puts a lot of people into an even deeper situation of feeling unfulfilled and even trapped.

None of us, me or my friends, could ever go back to vanilla. Not now. Not after we've experienced the soul-quenching highs of BDSM and being truly submissive and truly enslaved. But BDSM relationships do often come with their own sets of challenges.

i feel my friends' pain. i know how difficult it is. My heart goes out to them.

Weary

2008-01-12T02:31:00.001-02:00

Reaching the point of weariness on my project. Feeling brain dead from the exertion, which feels like a sprint in a marathon.

But Mistress A ... not a minute goes by that i don't think of her. And once this is over ...

An excellent distraction

2008-01-11T03:00:00.000-02:00

Still immersed in my project, and will be for the next couple of days.

Mistress A had a rather joyous day today, and i am happy for her. And she makes progress with her own progress.

It's been one of those weeks where i'm totally distracted from my sexuality, from BDSM. Even from Mistress A. Although, as i mentioned yesterday, it always simmers just beneath the surface. i've barely even had time to browse my favorite BDSM blogs, which i enjoy doing at night because it keeps me primed and keeps me obsessed with submission and with Mistress A and with being her slave.

i did cum tonight, for the first time since Monday. i've just been too busy. It was an excellent distraction from my labors. Not a 10 by any means, but a very good 7. i must have spent 5 minutes lightly circling my nipples with my fingers. That just sends me into heaven, especially when Mistress A did it a couple of weeks ago. And i came to the image from last weekend: Mistress A mauling my nipples, telling me what a slut and a whore i am, and reminding me again and again that i belong to her.

Just the fact i can pee standing up right now, is thanks to her. And, believe me, it is a favor that i certainly appreciate.

Simmering

2008-01-10T02:50:00.000-02:00

Mistress A and i both seem immersed in pretty intense projects. So our focus is on other things. But she is never far from my mind. My nipples are still sore from the weekend of mauling. The bracelet i wear as the constant symbol of her ownership is never really comfortable. i'm always having to adjust it on my wrist and that also keeps Mistress A on my mind. As if i need that reminder.

One thing i admire about Mistress A is that she is attuned to me. She backs off when i need to focus on work. She respects that. She is proud of what i have accomplished and wants to enable that.

i would much rather tonight be in deep and complete lust to Mistress A. To be like a dog in heat.

Even when it's not boiling on the surface, it's always there. Simmering. Ready for the heat to be turned up.

Briefly

2008-01-09T03:46:00.000-02:00

One thing i forgot about the weekend ... at some point during the evening, Val said she wanted to see the cock cage. So after we cuddled for an hour or so on the couch and just as we were leaving, i had to undo my pants and show her.

Funny. She hasn't written Mistress A to thank her, or written me. She has a blog, and i thought she'd post something about the evening. But nothing.

Oh well.

Not much tonight. Busy with a project. It did take me to Mistress A's town, and i popped in to see her for 10 or 15 minutes. A nice Mistress A fix.

Loaned out (The milking)

2008-01-08T01:55:00.000-02:00

After N and i returned from Val's apartment, Mistress A of course wanted to hear every detail. N even uploaded the pictures so we could see them via the television. The expressions on my face as i read Mistress A's letter — from the look of shock to a raised eyebrow — were pretty priceless.

We stayed up late and around two a.m., i asked for permission to go to bed. Mistress A told me to get ready for bed — brush my teeth and such — and to let her know when i was finished.

She came upstairs with the key and gave me sweet freedom. She turned down the lights, told me to undress and to lie down on the bed. Mistress laid beside me and told me to masturbate. She was telling me how pleased she was with me, and using all the buzz words that make me feel so ... possessed: slut, whore, bitch. And she began to tug on my nipples. Not even tug, she mauled them. No finesse, just the melding of pleasure into pain.

The orgasm, the release, was tremendous. As i reached the initial phase, Mistress A tugged hard on my nipples. "Cum again," she said. i did. "Cum again," she insisted as she tugged even harder. i shot even more. It was as if she was milking my cock through my tits. And i felt wave after wave until, finally, there was just nothing left. i was empty. i was used and used up.

Loaned out (The party)

2008-01-06T23:46:00.000-02:00

i didn't know it at the time, but Mistress A's arrangement with Val was the talk of the table by the time N and i arrived. There were a dozen people at the table, and they all knew i'd been pimped out. That's why two chairs next to Val were empty: N sat down next to Val, and i was to sit next to N.

Before i sat down, i walked over to Val and handed her the envelope that contained the key to my CB-3000. She opened it up and saw the key. "Is this symbolic and the real thing?" she asked. Oh, i said, it's very much the real thing.

Val beamed and asked me to take some packages out to the car; she'd gone shopping before her birthday Do-Over party. N and i each had to same concern, whether i should be sitting next to Val. N asked, and Val responded, "No, my plans for him come later in the evening."

How did i feel? It was fun, actually. Being there and acting under Mistress A's orders. Being loaned out like a whore. Maybe i would have been aghast six months ago, but i've lost a lot of inhibitions during my time with A. i just went with the flow. Val is attractive. The night was alive with possibility. i decided to treat her as if she were Mistress A; her wish would be my demand.

As dinner winded down, Val had me move to the seat next to her. We chatted and then i leaned over, "OK, just so you know, it's really important that you don't lose that key," i said. Val giggled.

It really felt like a first date in a lot of way. She told me after dinner that she wanted me to be her "snuggle bunny" for the rest of the night. And that's what i became. It was a lot like a first date. i rubbed her shoulders at dinner. We went to a house with N, and Val melted into my arms. It was nice. It was a taste of vanilla that i don't get with Mistress A. At one point, i was running my fingers through Val's hair like a comb. Again and again and again.

Sometimes i miss vanilla stuff. Like this. But i also enjoyed being Mistress A's whore. She pimped me out. She did it gently. She knew Val wouldn't push me too hard. Val could've had an amazingly rocking night, but she got shy. She went for the minimum. But Val enjoyed it, and that's what counts.

Next time though, i hope Mistress A whores me out to a Vixon in heat who will use me and then fuck my brains out. i haven't had intercourse in maybe three years. i wouldn't mind at all being about to fuck a woman right now.

Last night, Mistress A released me from the cock cage. Did she allow me to cum? And if she did, what did she do? To be continued ...

Loaned out (The set-up)

2008-01-06T05:11:00.000-02:00

This is a great concept: Do-Over days.

Say you have a crappy New Year's Eve, you gather some friends and have a "New Year's Eve Do-Over." Or, as in the case of Val, one of N's friends — who'd had a miserable birthday — you have a "Birthday Do-Over."

Mistress A had told me she couldn't go to Val's birthday party, but that i would accompany N. That was cool. i know Val and like her. She is the best friend of the wonderful masseuse who has been working on my feet.

When i arrived her this afternoon, Mistress A was very loving and tender. We sat on her bed and, after a lot of very nice cuddling, i answered email while she answered mail. i could hear her writing in longhand as i wrote on the keyboard.

When she finished, Mistress A told me she wanted me to represent her tonight and wanted me to make her proud; i'd be out with people who are elite within the little kink scene where Mistress A lives. But something seemed a little off. i always try to represent her. And it wasn't like we were at Thunder in the Mountains, where was VERY important to represent her. This was just a little get together at a sushi restaurant.

A little while later, she announced there was be a change in plans for after dinner. Mistress had told me last weekend that she planned to mummify me in the vet wrap she had obtained from eBay. But now, there was going be something else. And, of course, she wouldn't tell me what it was. She leaned over and began to whisper in my ear. She said i was going to be humiliated tonight, that i was going to be her whore, her slut.

She said i was going to remember this night for the rest of my life.

When Mistress A says something like that, it's time to get nervous. Very nervous.

And i got even more nervous when, as we were leaving to go to dinner, Mistress A told me again to represent her well. i suddenly realized that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen at this dinner party. i wasn't sure what the "something" was to be — was she going to surprise us and be there? And then, after i left her bedroom to get my coat, the door to her bedroom was closed when i got back. And she and N were conspiring. Yes, something bad was going to happen at this dinner party.

On the trip to the restaurant, N was even more sunny and happy than she usually is. i finally told her i was nervous and why. N is a very bad liar. She said nothing was up. She said that A just likes to fuck with people. "Yeah," i retorted. "She fucks with people by really fucking with them."

When we had gotten into her car, N had a present and card for Val. She'd handed me the card and put the present in the back. i'd placed the card in a little cranny in front of my knees, and hadn't thought twice about it. We reached the restaurant, and parked. N reached over to the birthday card, handed it to me and told me i should open it and read it.

She turned on the overhead light.

Oh, shit. Yes, this was going to be bad.

i looked at the envelope and saw it was addressed, not to "Val" but to "slavey-boy." i tore it open and began to read:

Dearest slavey-boy,

You were wondering what surprise I had in store for you tonight ..

Tonight, you are my present to Val. Enclosed you will find one key to your cock cage, which you will give to Val for the night.

She has already received a letter from me outlining the guidelines. In brief: She may use you however she likes. If all she wants is service, you will perform service. If she wants to play with you, you will be her toy. If she wants to torture you, you will suffer. If she wishes to fuck you ... use a condom.

i expect you to return to me without complaint — and, of course, with the lock back in place and the key in your pocket.

And if Val wants you to spend the night with her, so you shall. N & I will come into town to retrieve you whenever Val has had her fill of you. Call me when you have completed your services to her.

I know you will represent me well. I expect Val to give me a favorable report on your service.

The only thing I regret is not being there to see your face as you read this. But N has been instructed to give me a full report.

Love,

Mistress

i looked up, and N had her camera out, taking photos of my different expressions as i read the note. Mostly, there was the look of shock. Mistress A has misdirected me more than once. But never as effectively or as shockingly as this.

Mistress A had just loaned me out. i never took it as more than that. She had loaned me out. i am her slave. She orders, i comply. It's that simple. The choice is her's, not mine.

i read the note again, this time to digest and to memorize Mistress A's exact orders. When i finished, i turned to N and said, "OK, let's go."

(to be continued)

The greater high

2008-01-05T01:21:00.000-02:00

It struck me tonight just how much Mistress A has structured my life to ensure that i'm almost constantly thinking of her, constantly aware of her control over me.

Of course, there's the CB-3000. i wake up in pain from the strain of my cock unable to get totally hard. One of my first acts each day is to write her a morning email, wishing her a wonderful day and to let her know she's on my mind. When i shower, i have to fill a plastic tumbler full of water and soak my cock and it's cage in order to clean it, and myself, as well as is possible under the circumstances.

At work, i check for her emails at least every 30 minutes. When i need to pee, i have to go into a stall and sit down, and i do it in full submission to her. At night, i'm under orders to write this blog on a daily basis. It's almost like my diary for Mistress A to peruse to probe my inner-most thoughts and fantasies. i spend 2-3 hours a night writing this blog or reading old posts or reading other BDSM content on the web.

My whole life revolves around Mistress A in so many ways.

i've known that she on my mind constantly; i only just realized how much she set it up that way. Put markers in my daily life that would make me obsess over her and her ownership of me.

It's very true that being locked in a cock cage almost guarantees that. It makes me feel sex-obsessed. Mistress A obsessed. She won't release me if i don't please her. My entire sexuality depends on her. When i cum. How i cum. Why i cum. Because i'm locked up and i don't have the key. It's not even within 60 miles of where i am.

i like those reminders that Mistress A has placed in my life. And it's probably one of the reasons i fantasize about being forced to wear panties. Or worse, thongs and g-strings.

Part of the psychological thrill, for me at least, in surrender to Mistress A is the freedom that surrender brings. The freedom to sink into my sexuality. The freedom to emotionally and sexually be the natural me. The essence of who and what i am. And part of that thrill is being constantly aware of her ownership.

That's why i love the slave bracelet i wear on my right wrist, the one that hasn't been off since the moment Mistress A placed it on me at Thunder in Denver. And, even more, the nipple ring i wear in my right nipple. i got that as a sign of my servitude to Mistress A. Of her ownership. And i'm always aware of it. It's one reason i get off so much on being caged. And it's one reason panties have so interested me. It's another sign of ownership. That i've sunk so low that i have to wear slutty underwear. Not only do i have to sit down like a girl to pee, i have to wear sexy panties that look absolutely ridiculous on me.

Way back when, as my sexuality was still being defined, i can remember being fascinated by my mother's panties. Their smooth and silky feel. Sometimes, when i was especially horny and she was gone for the evening, i'd even put on a pair. It felt dirty. It felt perverted. It felt good.

i know i've tried on the panties of lovers here and there. And as my BDSM curiosity grew into a dominating need, i even started to buy panties. i didn't have someone to dom me, so i'd dom myself. i'd go into Victoria's Secret and buy panties in my size. Most often, really slutty and lacy panties and thongs. Or, i'd pick them up on a trip to Target. i'd buy pink for when i wanted to feel embarrassed. i'd buy black and red for when i wanted to feel nothing but lust and to pretend i'd been turned into a wanton slut.

The last time i moved, my sister was helping me pack and came across those panties buried in a drawer. i was good. "Oh, those are [my last girlfriend]'s," i said. "You know what a pack rat i am."

The thing is, it was always my choice. i might wear panties for 3 or 4 days in a row, and not cum, just to build up my sexual heat to the point of an incredible orgasm. But then i packed them away. i went back to my boxer briefs. Until the next time.

Now, it's Mistress A's choice. She might make me wear panties full-time. She could order me to throw away all my male underwear. She already, when she really wants to degrade me, calls me a sissy. She can very well make me personify that thought. Especially since she plans to make me start fucking myself with a black rubber cock that is pretty much a replica of my own cock.

So i sit here and contemplate all the possibilities and my position as her slave. i am hard. The cock cage hurts right now. i am so hungry to cum. i want to reach down and grab my cock and massage it. i want to play with my nipples while i jerk off and beg Mistress A to let me cum. i want to scream with the pleasure of orgasm. i want to fucking cum.

Right now, cumming is not an option.

But to be owned is the greater high.

Fetish

2008-01-04T02:24:00.000-02:00

Sometimes i almost forget that i'm caged.

The CB-3000 can be semi-comfortable. You can forget it's there. But then ... you want to touch your cock, and you can't. You try to get hard, and you can't. You ache to cum, and you can't. It's impossible. Because someone else owns your cock. Controls your orgasms. Controls your sexuality. Controls you. Owns you.

Mistress A left a comment last night teasing me that she could order me to wear lacy panties over my cock cage.

i'm not into feminization. i've done it before and, you know, it was fun. The very first time i submitted to a woman sexually — a pro who really got off on having a virgin and seemed determined to show me the time of my life — she dressed me up in garters and panties and a bra. Even high heels that, as i recall, didn't really fit. But i did feel ridiculous. And there was certainly a degree of humiliation.

i've even gotten hard reading fiction about men who are forcefully turned into women. Fed hormones until their cock shrivels and given breasts and used as their wife/domme's lesbian lover.

But, really, it's not a fetish.

Panties, on the other hand ...

Inescapable

2008-01-03T00:43:00.000-02:00

Next weekend, if i am fortunate enough to see Mistress A, she plans to do something that i've never experienced before: She is going to mummify me.

Last month, i posted a brief blog post on Mistress A's latest acquisition: vet wrap for horses. Four strands, each nine feet long. With velcro. "Vet wrap is deliciously comfortable and ... *inescapable*," Mistress A told me.

On New Year's Day, as she played with my nipples (which are still deliciously sore) and chatted with N, she detailed how she plans wrap me up. She'll leave my arms free, although they'll be bound above my head. She'll leave my nipples, and cock and balls, open for playing. And my asshole. She plans to use the black rubber cock i bought last week to fill my asshole while she plays with the rest of my body.

She says i can expect tweezers on my nipples. i'm not quite sure what all that will entail, but it sounds ... dangerous. Dangerously fun. i have a feeling i'll be screaming. But a whore like me likes that.

Just as inescapable as the vet wrap is the cock cage. The sad fact is that when Mistress A called last night to put it back on, i couldn't fit my cock inside the CB-3000's cage because i was hard. i had to ice it before i could put the cage on.

The most humiliating part of being caged is that i cannot pee standing up. i have to sit down, like a woman. Just another thing Mistress A controls. It's certainly emasculating. Just like the cock cage. i mean, i can't jerk off when i want to. i can't even touch my dick. i can't even stand up to piss. i have to have my Mistress' permission.

She's already threatened to send me to Victoria's Secret to buy panties. But how much more emasculated can you be than locked up in a cock cage, your ability to orgasm no longer under your control? Your ability to even touch yourself?

Mindfucked

2008-01-02T01:25:00.000-02:00

i had a few hours of freedom today.

And thought i would have at least a couple more days of freedom until my phone rang 20 minutes ago. It was Mistress A. "Put the cage back on," she said. She asked if i had masturbated since i got home. i had, in fact, just had an amazing orgasm minutes before she called. Mistress A seemed surprised i'd cum only once. OK, i'm not 25 any more. One good one every day or so, and i'm set. Two in a day, like today? Unusual but a lot of fun. Being locked up again? i have very mixed emotions. But it's not my choice to make. Mistress decides; i comply.

This morning, when i asked Mistress for permission to take a shower, she surprised me by announcing she was going to release me from the cock cage.

And she told me i could jerk off and cum while i showered. Strangely, it wasn't an especially intense orgasm. Probably because of the surroundings, and that i have my most intense orgasms laying down. But what followed was remarkable: i was blissed out for the next hour. It was if i'd been slipped enough heroin to last me an hour. i felt calm and happy and stoned.

There was a wonderful breakfast cooked by B. Later, after i'd taken out the trash, Mistress A summonded me over and had me sit on the floor with my back against the couch so she could "play with" me. B had left the room, and while Mistress A chatted with N, she reached her arm around and her fingers started to lightly flick across my nipples.

Oh ... my ... god ...

i sank back against her and closed my eyes. i reacted ever so often by softly moaning or pushing back against her. N must have been looking at me, because Mistress A said, "Yeah. And i'm only lightly rubbing my finger across his nipples."

And i was in heaven.

Then Mistress A said, "Watch this." And she grabbed both nipples and squeezed. Hard. Then harder. Then even harder until i was squealing in pain. "See? i was doing that last night and he was so loud that B got up and closed his door." Then she went back to playfully teasing my nipples. My moans became more pronounced, but Mistress and N continued their conversation as if i weren't there.

"Yeah, i read on his blog that he likes his nipples played with," she said. "i don't do things just because i read he wants it on his blog, but i do read it and sometimes i take note of things."

i don't know how long she played with them, alternately brushing against them and then tugging on them like a cow teat. But, for the second time of the day, i sank into a pure state of bliss. i've never taken heroin, but this is what i imagine i feels like. Just that rush of body chemicals. As Van Morrison sang, "And it stoned me to my soul."

My god, may Mistress A never tire of playing with my nipples.

Mistress A sent me home uncaged. The CB-3000 was in my bag. She told me i could masturbate as much as i wanted. However, she did threaten to call me as soon as i got home to order me to put it back on. She even wondered aloud whether i'd masturbate in my car.

i should have taken the hint. i came home, made a few phone calls, played guitar for a while. Then started to read chastity blogs on-line, which got me horny again. At one point, i even lamented not being locked up. i toyed with the idea of locking myself up even before Mistress A did. But i quickly dismissed it. i was free. i could jerk off. i could CUM.

When i did walk into the bedroom to orgasm for the second time today, i remembered a blog post where i'd fantasized about how i'd cum if only i could. i'd written that i'd use this little vibrator that came with the clone-a-willy kit and we didn't use because the mold failed. i've never done that before.

It was in my bag. i grabbed it, put a AA battery inside and flicked it on. Oh my. It was ... good. A LOT of vibration. i didn't realize modern-day vibrators could do THIS.

i manipulated my sore nipples and started to stroke my cock. Visualizing Mistress A. Hearing her talking to me. Hearing her call me a whore, a slut. Finally, hearing her tell me to stick the vibrator up my ass. Make it tickle my prostrate. i lube up my hole, then lube the vibrator. It slips in surprisingly easy. "Flick it on, slave," i hear Mistress A say. So i turn it on.

i position myself so that it feels like it's tickling my prostrate. And hold it. My left hand leaves the vibrator and reaches back to my right nipple. The one Mistress A had pierced at Thunder in Denver. i manipulate it the way i imagine Mistress would do. My right hand is on my cock.

The orgasm began, and it exploded. In waves. Intense. A my-neighbor-had-to-have-heard kind of orgasm. And then the phone rings. And, without warning, i'm back in the cock cage.

With no relief until at least the weekend. Mistress A has already told me what she plans for next weekend. She talked about them with N while she was playing with my nipples today, talked about them as if i wasn't even there.

But that ... that comes tomorrow.

Reality

2008-01-01T02:58:00.001-02:00

It's nearing midnight. My nipples are sore. Mistress A spent a long time torturing them, while laughing because it was forcing my cock to stretch the CB-3000. Which put me in agony. Matched against the way she tugged on my nipples, gripping them tighter and tighter and tighter until i was screaming when the pleasure turned to pain and then some anguished mixture of the two.

She also tickled me when i asked to be allowed to go to the bathroom, and suggested i be careful not to piss my pants from the tickling. Then she sent me outside to pee. Outside? i knew i would suffer this weekend, but to be sent outside to pee like a dog? And because i had on the cage, i still pissed my pants. Mistress A noticed and scornfully told me to take them off and wash them.

She has threatened all night not to let me cum. Maybe ever again. She's mentioned putting on the "permanent" lock. She's never used the word "permanent" before. She talked about how much she likes me like this, all attentive and crazy to cum and focused on her. She wondered aloud what might happen if she "accidently" placed a drop or two of Crazy Glue into the keyhole of the lock. And she brought up something i've feared she might bring up: Not allowing me real orgasms anymore; just orgasms by massaging the prostrate. Which would come from me fucking myself with the black rubber cock she had me purchase a few days ago, the one that mirrors my own cock.

In effect, it's a double mind-fuck: i'm a Southern white boy getting fucked by a black cock, and i'm also getting fucked by my own cock.

Brilliant.

My god, she is too intrigued by chastity now. And i am scared. i love Mistress A. And i trust her. But she can be a cruel woman. i just pray that this is all a big mindfuck. i truly do not want to be in extended chastity. i have health concerns. And i enjoy cumming too much. Under Mistress A's control, of course. But i do want to cum. Full and robust orgasms. Make me do it under her terms, i don't care. Even make me eat my cum, i don't care. But, please, Mistress, allow me to cum. Control it, modulate it. But, please, Mistress, please, allow me to come on a regular, and frequent basis.

i do know that my last orgasm of 2007 was Dec. 19. And that it certainly wasn't my choice to go that long without cumming.

Mistress A walked in a few minutes ago. i unlocked the temporary lock, and she slipped the "permanent" one back on, the brass Master lock. And with great fanfare, she clicked it shut. She owns the keys. Mindfuck or not, she has the keys.

My orgasms are no longer my decision. i depend solely and completely on Mistress A.

Which in truth, means nothing's changed. It's just that Mistress A has raised the stacks. Raised the heat. She now refers to me as a whore. She says she is bringing out the whore that's always been buried inside me.

She said she might use the inner whore in me to send me into a store to buy a set of women's heels in my size. Or to Victoria's Secret to buy panties that fit me, having to try them on in the store, of course. She said she might have a group of female friends over to see me in my CB-3000. Or, the worse, much much worse, send me to a gay bar with a mission to suck a cock and get fucked. She talked about ordering me to fuck myself with the rubber black cock that she had me purchase this week, of turning my asshole into a cunt. Turn me into a sissy.

Could i do all that? What choice do i have? And, truth is, i'm such a whore for anything on that list. Because i'm such a whore for Mistress A.

i belong to her. i have to trust that some of it is a mindfuck. i have to have that hope.

But what it all means is that i'm a Whore. A slut. Sissy. Bitch. Cunt. It's all emasculating. As i was going to bed, Mistress A referred to me as a eunuch.

As she put it tonight, it is my dream come true. It also is my worst nightmare come true.

And, right now, it is my reality. That is the best and worst of it.

Such a slut

2007-12-31T03:08:00.000-02:00

i am so hard right now that the cock cage is painful. It tugs my ball sac forward, away from my body. The sac is tightly pinched, while the head of my cock is pressed hard against the end of the cage. i try to concentrate on something else, just to get my mind off it and hoping my cock will constrict. And it just doesn't work. My balls ache. My cock is jammed and squeezed. This is unpleasant. This is painful.

All because i just sent Mistress A an email.

Finally ... it's started to go down a little. It's been a couple of minutes between sentences. The agony is gone; just a feeling of tightness now.

Except now i'm getting hard again.

Fuck. This hurts. This really fucking hurts.

i see Mistress A tomorrow. i spend the last minutes of the year with her and the first minutes of the next year with her. i so look forward to seeing her, to being held and loved on. And yet, i fear it, too. i've been such a slut on this blog and especially in our emails. i am so hot that it feels dangerous. Because of how reliant i now am on her, and the power she feels in knowing it. And not just reliant, but out of my mind in heat to be tortured and played with.

i cannot write any longer. i just stood up to get a drink and it felt like my balls were being ripped off. i've got to stop thinking about it. Or try. Just long enough for this cage to stop torturing my cock and balls.

She is making me into such a slut now.

Sweet suffering

2007-12-30T03:11:00.000-02:00

The need just keeps getting greater.

i have resigned myself that i have cum for the last time in 2007. i am locked up. Unable to touch myself, much less have an orgasm. i can only hope that Mistress A allows me to cum when i see her New Year's Eve. i ache for her. i yearn for her. i want to feel the pain of her whips and her paddles and her canes. i want to scream for her. i want to be fucked with a black rubber cock that echoes my own, simply for her amusement. i know her feeling of power of me makes her wet. i want to make Mistress A wet. i want to inspire her orgasms and fuel her imagination. i want to suffer at her hands, i want to feel her cruelty.

That's how hot i am. That's how much i need her, need the thing that defines her. i want to cum. i need to cum. i am fucking desperate to cum. i also want to earn that orgasm.

Right now, i am nothing but a slut in heat. i'm in such extreme heat that i invite Mistress A's cruelty.

But then there's the real life. Mistress A has been dealing with a sad situation. i know the possibility exists that we won't do BDSM because of that. But that's okay. Even that is sweet suffering.

Because it's all about Mistress A. Nothing else. Mistress A.

The need

2007-12-29T01:41:00.000-02:00

i've spent the past few hours distracting myself, downloading CDs onto my iTunes and my external hard drive. i've got over 25,000 songs loaded. Yeah, i know. But it's my thing. And i make great mix CDs.

It's something i had to do tonight. Just to try to get away from it. And i can't. Even when i try to distract myself, it lies there and simmers. Like an itch i can't quite make go away. It feels as if it lies just beneath the surface, impossible to scratch.

Good analogy if i don't say so myself.

This whole day ... i've thought of nothing else. i thought about it when i woke up. i thought about it all day at work. i thought about it as i left work early for the holidays. And i thought about it especially when i got home. i thought about it when i went to lunch and stopped back by the adult bookstore and encountered the same black female clerk. And i thought about it every time i went to pee and i had to sit down like a woman.

The cage.

The need.

Mistress A.

i've read how chastity can make you acutely horny. How it can make you docile to the one who holds the key, not just docile but desperate to please. Not just desperate to please, but desperate to go into a BDSM-induced frenzy. i want to be used. i want to be consumed. i want to be pushed and made to beg and made to scream. i want to be tied up and helpless. i want to be whipped into submission. i want to be fucked with this black rubber cock i had to buy today. i want to suck it. i want to be used like a bitch. i want to be used like a slut. Like the slut i am. Like the slut Mistress A is bringing out in me.

i cannot touch my own cock. i am desperate to touch my cock. To stroke it. To feel the cum rising up from inside me. To scream out Mistress A's name. To beg her to use me, to fuck me, to beat me. To feel that last groan as it rises from my belly and explodes out of my vocal chords just as the cum begins to explode out of my cock.

i am so hard right now, the CB-3000 makes my cock and balls ache from the strain. i am so hard right now, and there's not a goddamned thing i can do about it. Except wait.

The trip to the adult bookstore was, in a sense, humiliating. i picked out the rubber cock that Mistress A wanted me to get. It mirrors my own in size, except it is charcoal-colored. i went to the counter and the black woman came up to check me out. Then she said, "Are you sure you want this one? Don't you want one with a suction cup?"

"There are ones with suction cups?" i replied.

"Sure," she said. "Let me show you."

She led me back to the rubber cock display, chatting away about how they'd just gotten in a new shipment and she was still learning what they have now. "Here they are," she said when we reached that part of the store. "They have suction cups. People like that. You can attach them to the wall and do it donkey style."

A suction cup? Cool. It's just that all the rubber cocks with suction cups were quite over-sized. None of them were anywhere close to my size. "i'll stay with the one i got," i said. "That's the one my Mistress wants me to get."

Did i really say that? My god, how my inhibitions have vanished since Mistress A claimed me. Still, i was flustered and embarrassed.

"I understand, honey," she said. She turned to go back to the counter, and i reflexively waited until she passed before i followed. "Maybe the next one."

i paid and she smiled when she handed me the bag. "Have a good weekend, honey," she said.

i will have a weekend of frustration. i am locked in a cock cage, a CB-3000. i cannot touch myself. However, Mistress A is allowing me to spend New Year's Eve with her. i am primed. i am aching. i am so hot for her.

This weekend

2007-12-28T01:27:00.000-02:00

Last weekend, Mistress didn't allow me to see her because i failed to beg her to allow me to visit. i won't make that mistake again. i sent her this email a few minutes ago:

Mistress,

i'm begging you to allow me to see you this weekend.
i am dying to be with you, to experience your
presence, to see your smile, to talk and to share.

i am also aching to suffer for you, just as i've
suffered for more than a week in chastity simply
because it amuses you. i live to suffer for you, to
serve you, to please you, to amuse you. To receive
your love, to receive your punishment, to receive
your direction.

May i please see you, Mistress?

Since school is out, perhaps we could go into town
and eat? i would love to take you to dinner. i
would love to pamper you.

Please, Mistress, i yearn to see you this weekend. To
be at your beck and call. To fetch you coffee and cook
you breakfast. To be there as the slave to you that
i am.

Please, Mistress, i am begging and pleading with you.
i need to see you. i need to serve you. i need to
suffer for you. Please, Mistress, please. i am begging
you. Please.

Your suffering slaveyboy who loves you

i have not had an orgasm in more than a week. i am hard right now. i am hard because i'm locked in a cock cage. Because i can't please myself and because i get off on that. On her having control. Complete control. Because Mistress A is making me suffer for her. Because i am her slave and she keeps reminding me of that.

Today, i went to an adult book store to look for a rubber cock that mirrors mine, per her orders. i am average. Six inches. Nicely plump. i walked into the store, already keenly aware of my servitude to Mistress A because of the CB-3000 and because of the mere fact i was in an adult book store. i used to like them. It was where i'd browse and buy FemDom magazines before the Internet. It's part of the way i was able to discover BDSM and get information about it.

But i haven't been in one in a while. In fact, the last time was when Mistress A took me to one where she lives. i forget why, maybe shopping for a gift. Before that, a long long time.

So there is was, eyeing all the rubber cocks and hoping to find one that looked like my own cock. Knowing that Mistress A has threatened to fuck me with it. She's also threatened to make me suck it. She loves the idea that i'd be sucking and being fucked by, essentially, my own cock. But the only ones that resemble me are black and clear. None are flesh-colored.

i went back to work and emailed Mistress A to find out if black was OK with her. She replied:

Really, what else could I pick for a good little white boy from the South?

i did make a mistake though.

Mistress A had instructed me that if a clerk came up to help me, i was to tell them why i was there. While i was studying the rubber cocks, i was suddenly interrupted by a black woman who walked up to me. i was listening to my iPod and she startled me. i took out my earplug and she said, "Are you finding what you're looking for?" i awkwardly thanked her and said that i was fine.

i was so surprised and taken aback, that i didn't even think about Mistress A's order. The possibility didn't even occur to me. i mean, the clerk doesn't try to help you in an adult store. A clothing store or shoe shop, sure. But a porn store?

It didn't even hit me until i was out of the store and walking to my car. i have to go back tomorrow to purchase the black cock. If she approaches me again, i'll be ready. And prepared ... to humiliate myself.

What do i tell the clerk? "Let me ask you this. Say you had a boyfriend who would do anything you wanted him to do. And you decided to really humiliate him. You decided you'd send him to an adult bookstore to buy a rubber cock that resembled his own cock, because you wanted fuck him in the ass with it. Tell me, would you pick the clear rubber cock or the black rubber cock?"

i mean, what do you say in a situation like that, anyway?

i guess i'd better plan.

All i know is that i'd do just about anything to get out of this cock cage and cum. Which means i'd do just about anything Mistress A could demand of me. Which is what makes this coming weekend so dangerous, and so alluring.

If she only allows me to see her.

Caged again

2007-12-27T01:03:00.000-02:00

i received the order in an email this morning: Mistress A told me to put the cock cage back on. Which means it will be this weekend, at the earliest, before she will allow me to have an orgasm. And that i will go well more than a week without cumming.

For some couples into male chastity, that isn't so long, i know. i read accounts where the male is kept in chastity for six months, even a year. And then there's those into the extreme, men who haven't cum in years. Who may never cum again except through weekly prostrate massages. i am very appreciative and very lucky that Mistress A believes it is healthy to have regular orgasms. It is healthy for the prostrate. For the libido. But to restrict and control those orgasms? She's certainly into that.

She is cruel in that way.

i hope to see her this weekend. i ache to see her this weekend. i ache to suffer for her. i ache to be used by her. i ache to submit and to serve for her amusement. i ache to earn her permission to cum.

i am very aware that my cock is caged. i am very aware that she controls my cock. i am very aware that she controls me.

And that i am exactly where i've wanted to be from the moment i met her.

On a disconcerting note ... one of my favorite bloggers — Married Man's Fucktoy — has closed her blog. i'm distressed. One, because her relationship with her Master appears to be over, and i feel for her. And also because she was one of the most daring, and literate, BDSM bloggers on the Net. A friend emailed her and received this autoreply:

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more
painful than the risk it took to blossom…Anais Nin

Yes, I know; the blog is down.
Yes, I know; the blog has been deleted.
Thank you for your concern.
I am okay.

Something happened very quietly that made me think about myself. I
began examining my own value system, my own happiness quotient, and my
own needs. This was very, very hard.

But absolutely necessary.
Being submissive does not mean that you don't have needs.
I have never and will never be a weak or purposeless submissive.

I found myself under DL. It was an incredible awakening to share this
intense Owner/owned relationship with him. There is an incredible
undeniable bond that forms after that first major beating… the first
bloody caning… the first body modification or venture into terrifying
territory…. the first time you go beyond where you'd thought you'd
ever go…when they took a stand to take what was offered and that first
time you realized the austere power that they held over you… when you
find your purpose in submission… It's incredible and undeniable.

To say that it is life changing is not a stretch; it was.
It is.

When love has limits, there is only so far a couple involved in an
affair are going to go. There is a glass ceiling that can never be
permeated and I have decided that it's not enough for me anymore. I
want more; I want stability, growth, progression and I want to be
loved. Really loved. Not just sometimes loved; all the time loved.

I have chosen to walk away, freely, and before completely detaching, I
must thank every single one of you out there that have identified,
shared yourselves, and appreciated DL's toy. Thank you for sharing
this amazing journey with us and know that you've all made a
difference in my life with your encouragement & support.

I will write again.

The most submissive act is letting go.
I am letting go.
I have let go.
Strength begins and ends with the truths involved in facing our own fears.
Here's hoping that toy's heart heals, and that she returns to the blogosphere soon. We need her.

Please, Mistress

2007-12-26T02:07:00.000-02:00

Hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a lovely Christmas, and were able to spend it with family and loved ones.

It was a good day for me, although i spent it in physical pain because i have a suddenly gimpy knee on one leg and a badly sprained ankle on the other. The physical problems have taken me out of my jesus-christ-i-am-so-friggin-horny headspace for the day. And Christmas, too.

But the need to cum, and the knowledge that i suffer for Mistress A's amusement, bubbles just underneath the surface.

Mistress A had said she might have a special gift for me tonight, which i had hoped would be permission to have an orgasm. But when i came home, her only message was her wish for me to have a fun day and to bring back lots of loot.

If she allows me to orgasm, i've already imagined it. The clone-a-willy kit includes a little personal vibrator to insert inside the cock cast. And since the first attempt to make a cast failed, there's a spare vibrator. i imagine putting a battery in it, turning it on and pushing it in my ass. Massaging my prostrate until i'm almost beyond control.

i imagine building up to the orgasm by remembering things Mistress A has told me. The dirty things that make me feel as though she's looked into my soul and pulled out all my hottest buttons. And i imagine voicing them aloud as the orgasm begins to swell inside me. That's when i start saying them aloud, as if she's in the room with me. "Yes, Mistress, i want to be your slut. Please, Mistress. i know you own me, that i belong to you. That i'll do whatever you want me to do. That i suffer for you. That you're making me your bitch."

Simple words, yes. Cliched even. But still powerful. Still meaningful. Especially when whispered into my ear by Mistress A.

Shit. It's back now. i am hard. i ache to cum. i just fucking ACHE to cum.

Please, Mistress. PLEASE.

All i want for Christmas ...

2007-12-25T04:26:00.000-02:00

is to make my Mistress happy.

Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good night.

i am so goddamn horny

2007-12-24T00:46:00.000-02:00

i am as horny as hell. i haven't been allowed to cum since Wednesday night. i injured myself playing tennis yesterday, so i've been a couch potato today with a bag of ice. i spent much of the day reading the archives of the Mrs. Kelly's Playhouse blog, which only served to get me even more worked up. She and her husband are in a D/s relationship and one of their major deals is cuckolding. The blog is well and thoughtfully written, with cool photos.

The descriptions of their scenes are extremely hot. i shouldn't be reading blogs like that when i'm unable to orgasm, but i'm too horny not to.

Mistress A emailed this morning to see i was doing with my injury. Later, she asked if i was hurt too much to play with myself. i replied that i wasn't, and proceeded to beg her to be allowed to cum.

She replied with a one-word answer: Nope.

How typically cruel of her to bring up the topic just to tease me, give me hope and then snatch it away.

i imagine, i daydream.

i imagine i am tied up again, bound in rope that is expertly tied around my body. i imagine Mistress A spending several minutes playing with my nipples. Well, longer than that. She brushes her fingers across them, teasingly. Then she begins to pinch them, pull them. i am helpless to stop her; my hands and arms and legs and body are bound in rope. Finally, she pinches them inside nipple clamps. So tight that i wince and cry in pain.

But i am hard. And i imagine her taking a riding crop to whip my cock. And my balls. To make me yelp in pain. And yet, i can't escape it. Not even when she picks up the little cock whip she has, the one with the hard rubber strands. Now, i'm screaming. Now, i'm in agony.

i imagine her removing the nipple clamps, replacing them with her mouth. At first she whips her tongue across my nipples, soothing them. But it's not long before she's biting them, tugging on them with her teeth while i helplessly moan and beg ... but beg what? For her to continue? Or stop? Begging for more, that's what i'd be doing. i came once from playing with my own nipples. It took an elaborate scene to do it, but i did cum.

i imagine the worst thing of all. Mistress A with the dildo that mirrors my own cock. And me, with no option but to submit to it as she lubes up my asshole and then works it inside me. Making me a real bitch. Fucking me like the whore she's turning me into, the whore that she's brought out of me. Fucking me and i'm dying to cum and i can't even touch myself.

i imagine Mistress A bending over me, crouching down until her ass rests on my face and separated from my nose only by her leotards. She rubs her pussy over my face as she fucks me with the rubber cock. i can feel the wetness that my suffering has given her, i can taste it. Then my face is in her ass. i endure it. But i am hard. Even as i wonder how long it'll be before she makes me eat her ass. Even as i ache to eat her pussy. To make her moan. To give her an orgasm with my tongue. To hear her groan with pleasure that i have induced, that i have inspired.

Because i have suffered for her. And that's what she likes.

i am hard right now. Fucking straining hard. i am horny. So fucking godawmitey horny. i want to cum. God, jesus, i NEED to cum. i want to reach down and grab my cock and jerk off. No, i NEED it. i want to beat my cock until i cum, until i do what i do every time i cum now. i beg aloud for Mistress to allow me to cum. i confess that i am her slut. That i am her bitch. That i am her whore. i beg her to cum. i promise that i'll do anything she demands of me. i beg her. i tell her i'm her whore and her bitch. i plead until ...

Fuck.

No goddamn release tonight.

Please, Mistress. PLEASE.

i am SO GODDAMN HORNY.

Fucked by my own cock

2007-12-23T00:22:00.000-02:00

A few weeks ago, Mistress A had me order a clone-a-willy kit to make a rubber replica of my cock: She wants to fuck me with it. It greatly amuses her that it would mean i was getting fucked by my own cock.

i never got a good replica. Unless you've taken a hit of Viagra, it's a two-person job. First, you have to get hard and once that's accomplished, you have to take your mind off the thing that got you hard. Instead you have to concentrate on getting running water a particular temperature and then measuring it and then pouring it into the mix and mixing it up and pouring it into the tube and getting your cock in there within 90 seconds.

Except, by then, your erection is gone.

Last night, Mistress A emailed and told me to measure my cock and then go to a store and buy a dildo that mirrors it. Because she is going to fuck me with it next weeked. She said if a clerk comes up and asks to help me, i have to tell them what i'm there for and why. She warned me if i complained, she'd make me to up to the clerk and tell them what i was doing there.

i wrote her back:

i am very grateful, Mistress, that you only threatened to make me involve a store
clerk if i complained. Thank you, Mistress.

This morning she replied:

:D

Me thinks the slutboy is gaining an education here.....

And becoming worthier of me by the day.

That raised my spirits.

i guess every submissive has fantasies of being embarrassed like that in public somehow. i remember many years ago when i attended my first leather conference. i met a very hot red-headed Domme in the elevator and it started a short relationship. Short because she lived five hours away from me. And she was married, which — this was very early into my BDSM indoctrination — really weirded me out.

One night i went to see her and we went to the only leather bar in the city where she lived, which meant it was co-ed. She put a collar around my neck and led me around on a leash. At one point, she was talking to a friend and he asked her how well-trained i was. She said i was well-trained enough to get down on my knees and kiss her boots. She looked at me. i hesitated for a moment, so she pulled on the leash. And i went to my knees and kissed her boots as she rubbed my hair with her hand. Her friend laughed.

It was a turn-on, just as it was to be used in public by Mistress A when we went to Thunder in Denver.

But those happened in the leather world. It's another when it gets drawn into the vanilla world. It seems more dangerous, and more humiliating.

i've never suffered that myself. Mistress A used to threaten the first time we were together. One time she was going to take me to a discount shoe place and have me try on and purchase a pair of heels. And i'm pretty sure she threatened to send me to Victoria's Secret to buy panties ... for myself.

But you read about that stuff in a LOT of BDSM fiction. Akasha used to write about it all the time her femdom website was free. i remember one where she sent her slave to Vicky's and she'd enlisted the help of a sales clerk to embarrass him by walking around with him and helping him pick them out.

So the thought of being embarrassed like that, or while on a shopping trip with Mistress A, does turn me on in the abstract. But it's the greater threat that impacts more.

My mission is to pick out a rubber cock that mirrors my own. Mistress A plans to fuck me with it. She's also threatened to make me suck it. The irony of it all seems to intrigue her.

The whole thing makes me hard. And you want irony? Here's irony. i'm not locked up in the cock cage. i could cum any time i want. All i have to do is pull off my clothing and masturbate. Except ... Mistress A has put me on orgasm restriction. i can touch my cock, but i can't cum. The fact that i'm uncaged and yet still can't cum just makes it worse. Because with the cage, i don't have the option. Uncaged, i have the option to disobey. i have the option of cheating.

That just makes it so much worse. Because i could cum. It's just that i can't. But i could. But i can't. i mean, i might as well be wearing the cock cage. i can't cum until Mistress A tells me i can.

Feeling unworthy

2007-12-22T01:49:00.000-02:00

Not a good day.

It started off with an email from a disappointed Mistress A, and things seemed to go downhill from there. i dislike disappointing her. It depresses me when i do, because i become disappointed in myself.

Sometimes i worry that i am not worthy of Mistress A. That i cannot live up to her expectations. That she deserves a slave more devoted and more attentive than i. My job takes up so much time. So much mental energy. i get distracted.

Mistress A will not allow me to visit her this weekend because i failed to email her last night and beg to see her. She has put me on orgasm restriction; i cannot cum. Before long, i know i will be a babbling whore for her. She has that affect on me. She wrote me tonight that, before i can cum, i will burn for her like the whore i am.

Here's my response to her:

Yes, Ma'am, Mistress. You know that you bring out the dirty whore slut in me, and that i find that as humiliating as i do exciting. You know that i will suffer for you, submit to you, burn for you. Because it amuses you and because that fact gets me off. Because i belong to you. You own me. i am your slave. And i love you.

i do. i just sometimes feel unworthy. Then again, i'm the one she's chosen to be her slave. me. And i must live up to that.

In brief

2007-12-21T02:37:00.000-02:00

Short post tonight.

Long day, lots of trials at work. Then did the Christmas music gig tonight. It was good. i played well. Not great, but good considering how out of practice i am.

It's late. i have a cat sprawled out on my lap, and that puts my laptop out of reach. i'm tired.

But, ultimately, a good day.

Christmas Time Is Here

2007-12-20T02:30:00.000-02:00

i'm performing at a Christmas show tomorrow. Tonight was devoted to learning "Silver Bells" and "Rockin' Round The Christmas Tree" and such. i can play a mean version of "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer." Really and truly.

It really doesn't feel like Christmas. i remember when Christmas felt special. You looked forward to seeing "Rudolph" on television and the lead-up to Christmas was intoxicating. Every year, the meaning of Christmas seems to fade more and more. i watch the Alister Slim version of "A Christmas Carol" on Christmas Eve. i watch "A Christmas Story" and "It's A Wonderful Life" on Christmas Day. Those remind me of the spirit that's missing. The spirit of community. Of the common good. Of respecting nature and our enviroment. The spirit of giving and caring and helping one another.

We've lost that. It's part of the price of our modern society. We are out of touch with our true nature, and with nature period. But for more on that, read Daniel Quinn.

i went back tonight and browsed my posts from a year ago. Mistress A and i were flirting then. Nothing more. And today, here we are. my nipple is pierced for her. i wear a bracelet as a sign of her ownership; it's not left my wrist since the moment she placed it on me. We have had ups and down. But we remain. There's always been a connection between us.

Now, she owns me and i am her slave. i'm still learning all the ramifications of that. But, at the core, i do know that truth.

Comment

2007-12-19T02:13:00.000-02:00

Mistress A left a comment last night, a little personal aside from her to me but knowing that anyone who reads my blog will see it. Just a way of exerting control.

She's good at that, Mistress A.

Mistress Santa

2007-12-18T03:12:00.000-02:00

i really don't think you're supposed to tip off Christmas presents. It's supposed to be a surprise, right? Mistress A, of course, doesn't exactly follow the rules. She emailed me today to inform me of a "gift" i'll be getting from "Mistress Santa."

It's a vet wrap for horses. Four strands, each nine feet long. With velcro. "Vet wrap is deliciously comfortable and ... *inescapable*," Mistress A said.

i smile now. And think, what fun!

But when i'm bound?

Yes, then, too. i suffer for Mistress A. For her amusement. That is my lot in life. And i surrender to it willingly and enthusiastically.

About last night

2007-12-16T22:42:00.000-02:00

The ropes wrapped around my ankles. i couldn't see Mistress A because i was laying on my belly, my erection digging into her bed — she'd ordered me to remove the CB-3000 after i'd stripped off my clothes. But i felt her presence behind me, and felt the soft rope tightly going around and binding my ankles together.

i've been tied up before: Mistress F (whom i have written little about, but will someday because — next to Mistress A, she's my longest BDSM relationship) once tied me to a chair, took a Sharpie and wrote "slut" and "whore" on my thighs and "slave" across my chest. Then snapped some pics.

But this was different. i was on Mistress A's bed, and she was lacing my ankles tightly together. Then she went to my wrists, tying them together more tightly than i've ever been tied. Then she went back to my ankles, starting there and then tying my feet tightly together as if i was doing ballet and standing on my toes.

After that, i heard Mistress A unravel even more rope. This time she went back to my hands, and ran the strands through my fingers until my hands were locked in a maze of rope. Even then she wasn't finished; Mistress A tied more rope around my thighs.

i was bound and completely helpless. Like a fly trapped in a spider's web, waiting for my poison.

Before we'd gone up to her lair, Mistress A had sent me upstairs and told me to pick out three things for her to beat me with. First, i chose a flogger. i hoped she'd use it first, to warm up my body. Next, i picked out something she'd never used on me before, a short implement with a handle that holds three six-inch flaps of leather. It looked sufficiently dangerous. Finally, i picked out a leather carpet-beater she owns. i remembered it as especially vicious. It was between the carpet-beater and the cane; but i wanted her to have at least one thing extremely vicious. The carpet-beater doesn't cut flesh, so i choose it.

Afterwards, Mistress A kept asking how i felt in bondage. It was an incredible turn-on. i felt alive. i felt trapped, but i felt free. i was in complete surrender to her. Literally and figuratively. i had no escape until she untied me. i felt completely owned by her.

Especially when she talked to me as she beat me. i remember fragments: "i own you," she said. "You are my slave. You'll never find any woman you're more obsessed with than me. If you ever went vanilla again, how long would it take you to miss BDSM? How would you find another woman like me? i own you. You are my slave. You belong to me. You'll do whatever I tell you to do. i might lock you into your cock cage and never let you out. It's all my choice. Because i own you. If I want a man to fuck you in the ass, you'll do it. You'll suck a cock if I tell you to. You'll eat any woman's pussy I tell you to. Because you belong to me. You are mine. i own you. And you'll remember these words. You'll remember what I said to you. You'll remember that i own you."

Before she beat me, Mistress A gave me a safe word: i'm dying.

By the time she untied me, i was beaten and blissed. Mistress A held me for a few minutes, then told me to go to bed. And that i was free to masturbate.

My orgasm was incredible, and swift. i grabbed my nipple and twisted as i grabbed my cock. i came in less than a minute. Everyone heard me downstairs. As i was cleaning myself, N opened the door to my bedroom and said, "A sent me up to make sure you're okay."

It took me a moment to gather myself, then i looked up and said, "Tell Mistress that i am wonderful."

Check in

2007-12-16T03:48:00.000-02:00

At Mistress A's. Wonderfully intense evening. Details to follow ...

Futility

2007-12-15T01:39:00.000-02:00

God, i'm horny. If i could touch my cock, i would have masturbated and maybe masturbated again.

i am so horny. i ache to cum. And yet, can't. i'm hard. But can't touch myself. The cock cage entraps me. And it is locked. Will be until Mistress A unlocks it.

i am so horny. i will see Mistress A tomorrow, and can only count down the minutes. Because i know cumming will be impossible until then.

i am so horny that i yearn to beg to cum. Beg for her permission, for her mercy. Beg to cum because i need so much to cum. Beg because i know it amuses her and proves her power over me. And beg simply because i need it so bad. Because i know i'll have to beg to cum. And i am desperate to cum. Absolutely desperate.

i am so horny. i am so fucking absolutely no shit horny. And there's not a goddamned thing i can do about it. Nothing.

Except ache for Mistress A. And pray she allows me to cum this weekend.

Because, jesus god, i am so horny.

State of mind

2007-12-14T01:24:00.000-02:00

i sit here now, caged once again in the CB-3000 and very aware that i belong to Mistress A.

i survived the physical, came out with everything normal, which was great news. Mistress A was sweet to check in with me not long after i left to make sure everything went well.

In a way, the CB-3000 isn't the same since Mistress A doesn't hold the key to the temporary lock i have on it. But i wouldn't dare open it even though i can. And what kind of slut does that make me? That i would sit here caged when i can walk 4 feet and pick up the key to this temporary lock and let myself out, masturbate to my heart's content? And yet, i don't. What does that make me?

A slave. Owned. Possessed. Controlled.

Mistress A is good at that.

Relief

2007-12-13T01:01:00.001-02:00

Mistress A called late last night. i was still very worried that she might make me wear the CB-3000 to the doctor's office for the physical examination i'm getting tomorrow. But she was thrilled with my email, so thrilled that she gave me permission to remove the CB-3000. She even granted me permission to masturbate to my heart's content.

The problem was, she called so late that i was on the verge of sleep. Not only did i not cum, i didn't even get the cock cage off until i woke up this morning! And here's the rub: Mistress A told me i could not cum today. So, i blew it last night. i had my chance for orgasm, and blew it.

i am very horny. i am hard right now. It is not easy to resist. And yet it is; i am under orders. i wouldn't dream of jerking off, of cumming. Not only without her permission, but going against her direct orders. So i'm stuck.

i'm also greatly relieved about tomorrow. Years ago, i needed a GP doctor and Mistress A told me how much she loved her doctor. So i went to him. And i've been seeing him off and on ever since, with years off when i moved out of town. But i always went back to him. The possible implications never occurred to me. Mistress A said she considered calling his nurse -- who is kinky herself -- to see whether it'd be kosher to send me to the physical wearing my cock cage. Thank heavens she didn't. Thank heavens she released me.

It is good to be able to piss standing up again. It is good to be able to touch my cock, and to wash it. It is good to not have to worry about sitting wrong having pain shoot through my balls.

Yet, there's a security being in the cock cage. It's a definite sign of Mistress A's ownership and control. When i wear it, i feel owned. Not only that, i am owned because she holds the key. It turns me on to know i am so enslaved to her that she even controls my orgasms. My very sexuality.

Then again, i am incredibly horny. i am hard. i ache to cum.

i also have to give myself an enema tonight.

i'm off to do that.

Giving in to Mistress A

2007-12-12T02:25:00.000-02:00

First, a shout-out to Luna for her thoughtful comment. Thank you. Your thoughts are well-taken. Although, really, it's out of my hands. If this is what Mistress A wants, i accept it. i trust that she won't throw me out there without a net. She won't ever make me do something i can't handle.

Can i handle this? Going to a doctor with a locked cage on my cock? It just seems ... too close to my vanilla world to be comfortable. Like there should be a separation. A dividing line.

But here's what i wrote Mistress A tonight:

Mistress,

i am begging you with body and soul. Please, Mistress, please. i beg and plead with you from the bottom of my heart to allow me to go uncaged for my physical.

It probably goes without saying that i don't want to go do an in-depth physical examination wearing a cage around my cock. It's my first physical in years and i am surprisingly nervous. What if they find something wrong? What if i am dying?

It will already be an uncomfortable and humiliating day. i will have to get up very early and give myself an enema prior to going in. i can't have tea that morning and i'll be struggling with no caffeine.

The last thing i'll want to deal with, with all that poking and prodding and invasion, is having to worry about being embarrassed and humiliated in front of people i have to deal with in a doctor/patient relationship. The idea of it does turn me on. The reality of it, however, gives me serious pause.

But i am your slave. It is not my decision. i belong to you. That is because i trust you and trust your judgment. If you tell me i have to go there locked in the cock cage, i will. i will suffer for you. Even as i wear it proudly.

You own me and i love you. No matter your decision, this dilemma has taken me deeper into your ownership. Because i realize that whatever you decide, i will always give into your will.

i love you. i am your's. i am your slave.

xoxoxo,
Your slaveyboy who loves you

That's what i know and what i believe. It is who i am.

Basically frightened

2007-12-11T01:25:00.000-02:00

Many years ago, when i began to see Mistress A's family doctor, it never occurred to me that it might have deeper implications. Like this upcoming Thursday. i'm scheduled to undergo a complete physical. And, right now, i'm locked in the CB-3000.

i have written Mistress A and begged her to allow me to release myself from the cock cage before the physical. i have that freedom because i'm having to use a plastic lock; the brass lock is with Mistress A.

But i'm locked in as securely as i would be in a brass lock, without the key. i would never remove the cock cage without Mistress A's permission. She holds the key, whether it's literal or figurative. It's just the way it is. She owns me; she owns my cock.

So if she tells me i have to go to my physical with a cage around my cock, i will. i just pray that she won't do that. Because it's just too far. It could mean having my submission known to strangers; i live in the deep South, that is not always good.

And the thing is this: The doctor is kink friendly. He knows very much who Mistress A is. He knows that i am "seeing" Mistress A. His chief nurse is a lesbian Domme. She also knows i am seeing Mistress A. Because i told them, on orders from Mistress A, when i last visited them.

So my status as Mistress A's slave is pretty much a known. And nothing to them should be a surprise. Mistress A is "thinking" about it. It is not beyond her to telephone the doctor, if not to get him to play along to confirming that i showed up bound in her cock cage.

i am totally fucked. Totally. Unless she shows me mercy. And i have begged her DEEPLY for that.

Into the cave

2007-12-09T21:21:00.000-02:00

One thing i love about Mistress A is that she is wise and supportive and sensitive to me. Like her rule that i must blog every night. She's not doing it just to be doing it. She wants me to stick to the original intent of the blog. And she uses it to learn about me. What i'm thinking, what i'm feeling, what i'm fantasizing about.

i haven't been doing that of late for several reasons. i haven't felt especially inspired. Things were shaky for a few weeks. Then Mistress A became immersed in her project and my sexual feelings kind of went into hibernation while she was away. A natural psychological self-protection, i suppose.

But i was thinking, also. Pondering. Is this what i truly want? Do i want to be Mistress A's slave? Do i want to be anyone's slave? Is the relationship consuming too much of my life?

While Mistress A disappeared into her project, i did what men do: disappeared into my cave.

Mistress A and i agreed that spending practically every weekend together was probably too much. While i love being with her, i also paid a cost for that. i was compacting 7 days of living into 4 days: errands, shopping, washing clothes, resting. There were times i felt exhausted when i left Mistress A's house. Many times. Our hours are much different and i'll stay up late and then have to get up too early. That had caught up with me.

But there's also tennis. i took it up 5 or 6 years ago after my knees became too brittle for my previous sport, basketball. It took a while, but i have become good at it. i used to play three, four, five times a week. Then i changed jobs and it essentially allows me one day a week and weekends. Before Mistress A, i played just about every Saturday and Sunday with my tennis buddies. Afterwards, finding time to play tennis was a major struggle.

One thing i've realized over the past couple of months is how much i've missed playing regularly. It's crazy, but i love going out and swatting the ball around. i play very hard. It's my exercise. It's my release. It's my escape. It's my safety valve It's my passion. As much a part of who i am as my passion for submission.

Mistress A has encouraged me to play in her town. But finding people to play tennis is tough. Most people come to play in pairs. You have to be close to the same level. i specialize in doubles, which doubles the difficulty. i've check the Net to see if there are groups where she is. There aren't. Plus, i have my friends here. There's always a pick-up game to be had.

So maybe once we get back into a routine, i can manage a good balance. That is my hope.

And i need to work on my serve. Which is a solitary exercise. So i can do that when i am visiting her. There are courts nearby.

i played three sets today, all while wearing the CB-3000. i'm always aware of it. Even in the middle of a point, i know i'm enslaved. It doesn't hamper me at all; but that doesn't mean i don't always know it's there.

Mistress A asked me to change out the O-ring because i mistakingly put on one that is too large. i could do this because the lock is at her house, and i'd used one of the plastic locks that come with it.

More significantly, i also begged her to allow me to cum and she was so pleased with my begging that she allowed it. It was my first orgasm since Thursday, when i put the cock cage on.

She said she'd decided she wasn't going to allow me to cum, but she was pleased by the way i begged. Mistress A wants me to get much more adept at begging. That, i imagine, will be something i'll have plenty of opportunity to practice at.

Rule #1

2007-12-09T01:58:00.000-02:00

It's a strange weekend. i was supposed to see Mistress A, but she told me Friday to stay home. i was looking forward to seeing her. But i know she's deep into her project. And it was in the '70s here (but it's not Global Warming) and i would have died if i couldn't play tennis. It could be the last great weekend of the winter. So maybe it balances out.

i played tennis today wearing the cock cage. Mistress A asked me last night if i was horny. i was. Not being able to touch your cock tends to make one yearn to touch their cock. i miss Mistress A. i miss her control over me. i miss her smile. i miss holding her late at night, like i'm being comforted.

i get hard just writing that. Or, at least, try to. The CB-3000 only allows me to get so hard.

Mistress A is instituting rules. Rule #1, i have to post something on the blog every day:

I want you to blog every day. I want you to keep to your blog's mission statement. You do not have to blog a whole essay. It could be as little as a brief sentence - a thought, an idea, a fantasy. As short or as long as you have time/inspiration for. Xena on youtube does NOT satisfy the requirement, unless you explain how she contributes to your blog's mission statement. Nor does quoting directly from my email. I want to read what *you* have to say. I already know what I've said. Well, usually, anyway ;)

I want you to get back to making your blog truly a journal of your submission. Not even necessarily how your submission relates to me but how *you* perceive/experience submission, what (if anything) you learn about being sub along the way, etc. etc. Understood?

Personally, i thought Xena was pretty hot tying that guy up and dragging him off ... just sayin'.

In lockdown

2007-12-07T01:11:00.000-02:00

The new CB-3000 cage came a couple of days ago. This afternoon, Mistress A sent me an e-mail entitled "Tonight." i knew what it said before i even read it. But Mistress A threw a curveball. She wanted me to record myself putting it on, and then e-mail it to her as a mini-movie.

It is now locked on. i haven't masturbated in several days, and relieved myself as soon as i got home. i no longer have that option.

Mistress A just sent an email saying i'll be wearing this for some time.

One of the surest signs of control is when you can't touch your cock. Not to jerk off. Not even to pee. In fact, you have to pee sitting down. i do "feel" owned. The cock cage makes it very tangible. My cock belongs to Mistress. i belong to Mistress. She, literally, holds the key.

Thing is, even though i'd just orgasmed 30 minutes beforehand, my cock got so hard that i couldn't get the cage on. i had to ice myself down in order to get it on. My cock betrays my lust. It signals it. Mistress A's eyes are back upon me. And that makes me happy.

YouTube BDSM: Xena takes charge

2007-12-01T19:31:00.000-02:00

Xena gets her BDSM on. Now, that's hot!

The cage

2007-11-28T23:59:00.000-02:00

i've ordered a replacement tube for the CB-3000 that broke a couple of months ago. It's due in a few days. Mistress A is still emersed in her project, but she did say she was looking forward to cock cage's arrival. i suspect i may be immediately wearing it. And the thing is, i'm not sure when i'm going to see Mistress A. She's already given me notice that she needs to spend the upcoming weekend working. And i suspect she's going to stay in that mode for a while. That's the way she does things. i've experienced it before, many years ago. Twice, actually.

But i miss her. i live for her emails. Through experience, i understand what she's going through right now. i am supportive and encouraging. i am patient. i do not want to disturb her concentration.

On the other hand, we've largely been apart for two months. i acutely feel that absence.

i miss her. And even her slight tease about the cock cage ... it makes me hard.

The heat is back

2007-11-25T01:58:00.000-02:00

i'm always reluctant in some ways to reveal my fantasies because ... well ... Mistress A is not only in the position to make them come true, but is usually inclined to do so to one degree or another.

Sometimes, i'm brave enough to say: So what? Why not live them out? Why not embrace them?

Why not tell her that when i went grocery shopping yesterday, i walked past the adult diapers and lingered for a moment? With fleeting thoughts of the humiliation i'd feel having to wear them, of pissing in them and feeling myself covered in my own urine, or even worse. When i was very young, 3 or 4, i peed on myself often. In day-care, i'd be too afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. i don't even remember why. Instead, i'd lay in the sandbox and pee in my jeans, hoping it would somehow dry before my mother came to pick me up. i peed in my bed at night often until i was 7 or 8 and finally grew out of it. i don't know how that ties in or what it means, but there's obviously some kink there.

i've been pissed on once, by a male dominant who put me in my bathtub and soaked me down. It was incredibly erotic. i was hard as a rock. It was so humiliating, so completely debasing. i served another male dominant on-line who not only made me drink my own piss, but once ordered me to eat oatmeal soaked in piss.

Why not confess how it makes me feel like such a bitch-in-heat slut to have something inside my ass? Mistress A has had me insert a butt plug and take a photo. i think there's even one posted on the plug. i always use the smallest one i own. i own bigger ones, ones that truly hurt. She plans to make a rubber mold of my cock, and then have me suck it regularly and fuck myself with it. That is such a turn-on ...

Why not tell her that it turns me on to wear panties? i've never really been into cross-dressing, but something about having to wear panties is a turn-on. Maybe, again, it's the humiliation. The feeling of being emasculated. Or the constant reminder of submission. The last time i moved, my sister helped me unpack and came across a drawer full of panties. i told her it belonged to my last girlfriend; they really belonged to me.

Why not tell her how much it turns me on to have my ability to orgasm under her control. The new CB-3000 is supposed to arrive Wednesday or Thursday. It makes me feel so enslaved to be placed into chastity, knowing that Mistress A holds the only key and that my orgasm depends solely on her mercy.

Why not confess how much i love even the simple things: rubbing her feet or cooking her breakfast or waking her in the morning with a fresh cup of coffee or fetching her coffee all day?

And so i do confess it all. Most of all, i love being her slave. Knowing that she holds me in the palm of her hand. That i belong to her. That she owns me. That she is going to make fantasies real. That she is going to use me to please her. And that her pleasure is paramount. Which is as it should be.

Damn, suddenly i'm horny again. Imagine that!

Sleep's NOT over-rated

2007-11-24T00:02:00.000-02:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

i have many things to be thankful for, Mistress A, of course, standing front and center. She is at work this weekend on her project, so i won't be going to see her. She is preoccupied with the project. i understand completely, i've been on the other side, but i do miss her and do miss being with her and miss her attention.

But it's been a good break for me, too. Work has been brutal for the past 3 weeks. i had no idea just how mentally exhausted i was until i woke up Thanksgiving afternoon at 12:15. i was supposed to be at the homestead for Thanksgiving dinner at 1 p.m. And home is an hour away.

Oops.

Jumped up, boiled water, peed, threw on clothes, made tea in a travel cup and raced out. Got there 30 minutes late. But, damn, i felt refreshed.

i've been so tired that i've hardly felt sexual at all. i go through these periods sometimes, when my sexuality almost goes dormant for a while. Maybe it does that to counter-balance the times when my sexuality seizes control. Guess it's a natural check-and-balance. Also interesting that it coincides with Mistress A's project. So i'm sure i miss her stimuli, too. It's like she has the key that turns the engine on.

After the family stuff yesterday, i stopped off at my sister's afterwards. She and her husband was there, along with my brother and his wife. My sister's husband does stick fighting, and coaxed my sister into doing it. She was talking about it, and mentioned how she'd once been struck across the thighs just below her ass. It felt like a hot sizzle, she said, and she even bled.

i had to stop myself from laughing. That may have hurt, but she's never endured Mistress A's cane. And what would she think if she knew i had?

YouTube BDSM: Global Warming

2007-11-14T01:44:00.001-02:00

This Public Service Announcement appears to have originated in England. Nope, you'll never see one like this in America. Too repressed. But this would be one way to get me interested in television again!

Paddles

2007-11-13T02:04:00.000-02:00

Sometimes, you're closer than you realize and about as far apart as it takes to reach out and kiss.

And so it is with Mistress A. My office spouse asked me today if i'd had a good weekend. i smiled and said i had. "I thought so," she said. "You seemed pretty despondent last week."

Guilty as charged.

Feeling much better now. One thing about Mistress A, whenever we're together we seem to fall into sync. Of course, the dynamic is set between us — the Dominant and the submissive — but it does go deeper than that. There is a connection that was established instantly the night we met. And, as she said early in the conversation this weekend before things were clear, even if we stop being lovers she still hoped we'll stay friends. Because we've been friends forever. And that really forms the foundation of our relationship. Plus, we're both perverted and kinky as hell. Mistress A more-so than me. i aspire, but i'm really nothing next to her.

i would have NEVER, for example, imagined this.

N and i each had birthdays last month. The punishment planned for N for her birthday was that i was going to be able to pick out 5 implements of pain and use them on her for her birthday spanking. Except she got trapped by work and we never got to do it.

Last night, as i was being sent to fetch coffee for Mistress A, she reminded B and N of this. While i was gone, a plot was hatched. i could hear parts of it over the sound of the grinding of the coffee beans and the machine making a cup, but i couldn't hear everything. So imagine my surprise when i returned and Mistress A announced what was about to happen:

She sent N upstairs to get a sorority paddle that N especially dislikes. She told me i was going to get to give N her belated birthday spanking, using the paddle. And ... N was going to give me the birthday spanking that i had missed. We would alternate: i would take 5 licks (because i'm older than N) and then give three licks to N.

i went first. i've never paddled anyone. My dad was a school principal and had a legendary paddle that was almost a badge of honor to seniors. They'd receive a paddling, and then sign the paddle. And i got a couple of paddlings in school. Once for possession of an amazingly kinky set of playing cards. i've never seen anything like them since; the cards had images of a man pissing into a coke bottle, followed by a pic of a woman drinking the piss from the bottle. That set the tone. One kid got them from his dad and brought them to school. They were sold from one student to another — each one kept them for a couple of days, bringing them back to school and sharing them with the other kids.

i was the last one to buy them. And i kept them. The pure kink of the photos were an aphrodisiac. They got confiscated when we all got turned in. But god, i wish i still had that set of cards. They were so dirty, so base, so perverted. Especially for an impressionable 8th-grader.

The principal at my school was pissed. And he paddled us with fury. It fucking hurt. So i've certainly been paddled before. But as far as paddling someone else? No. The couple of times i tried to Dom, it was a stretch. Yet i do have an inner sadist. Most times, i turn it on myself through my imagination. Last night, i got to turn it on N.

i don't feel guilty because she is a complete pain slut. At first, she was trying to deal with me to go easy on her and she'd go easy on me. i told her i didn't think Mistress A would go for that.

i didn't open up at first. My first three swats were reasonably gentle. After that, i started to get a little more vicious. i gave her very hard swats that really popped. They were hard enough that she tried to crawl up the couch that she was leaning over. And i didn't show a lot of mercy. Even Mistress A was impressed. But i got off on making N hurt. Because i knew she enjoyed it. And because i knew i was in control of it. i loved to watch her react to what i was doing, i enjoyed manipulating and controlling her reactions. As submissive as i am, there is a sadist in me.

And it was because i knew it pleased Mistress A. One thing about this weekend — my expectation was that either we were going to break apart, or else i was going to fall into slavery even more deeply.

i think i just went in more deeply. She remind me more than once that she owns me. That she'll go along with things i need to do in vanilla life 99 percent of the time, like when i go out of town, but that i must ask her permission. She wants more control of my life. Simply because she owns me now.

It feels so good to be back in this space, so natural and so destined.

i am owned by Mistress A. i love her. She loves me. My life is my submission to her. And as i said last night, suddenly, once again all is right in the world.

Happy Together

2007-11-12T11:38:00.000-02:00

Mistress A and i had a long and open talk over dinner Saturday night, and a few hours later i was on the receiving end of a birthday paddling.

We are back in sync, and all is right with the world ...

YouTube BDSM: The boys meet a Mistress

2007-11-09T23:28:00.000-02:00

i can't quite figure out where this is from, although it appears to be Spike TV. The boys meet a Mistress, and all hell ensues.

Softening

2007-11-09T00:37:00.000-02:00

Things have taken a turn with Mistress A.

We had a pretty angry exchange of emails Monday night. Tuesday, i was still angry enough that i didn't email her first thing in the morning, as i always do. She emailed me late in the afternoon and ordered me to always email her, whether i'm sulking or pissed off.

That's the first time she's asserted her authority over me in weeks.

Then, today, she sent this after i told her i had yet to secure a replacement for the CB-3000 that broke several weeks ago. She asked why, and i replied that in light of how things have been recently, it had slipped as a priority.

She replied with this:

I want you to deal with the fact that you've been feeling ambivalent about the power relationship for some time now and that it is, indeed, why things started to go south on us.

If I haven't said it before, I'll put it in writing now. I believe that, deep inside, you are a pretty angry fellow; and you are especially angry with women. I can definitely understand why. You have a lot to be angry and fucked up about when it comes to women.

But I'm not other women. If you let all that shit come between us this relationship will fail the way your others have. You'll see me as just another one of the women who've hurt and betrayed you or who, mysteriously, turned on you.

And then she added this:

If you are really my slave, you are going to have to put your faith in me and in the things I think and believe. I am very fond of you. I love you. I certainly don't want to fuck you up or in any way give you a worse life. But if you resist me, refuse to hear what I tell you, and try to maintain the emotional barriers that you thought kept you safe in the past, you will be in for a rough time.

I own you. I can do what I like with you and I will. Your only recourse is to ask to be released. Understood?

On the one hand, i'm thrilled by the last two paragraphs. Obviously. On the other, i feel like i've been dragged through an emotional ditch the past four or five weeks. Monday night after our email exchange, i was so upset that i didn't sleep well. i was a wreck at work Tuesday. The upheaval has worn on me.

One way or another, i want resolution. It's no fun hanging in limbo.

Mistress A is right. i do have anger at women. Emotional anger that comes from childhood. That's never been healed or shed. And i do feel hurt, and a little betrayed. i've expressed that to her tonight. i'm probably overly sensitive to it because of my history. But that feeling is there.

But Mistress A has softened. And i can feel myself softening. After all, we love each other. And that counts for a lot.

One year anniversary

2007-11-03T17:50:00.001-02:00

i began this blog one year ago as a lark, really. i thought it might be fun ... for a while. And nothing that followed was anything i expected.

i didn't expect that it would become the diary that it became. i didn't expect it would signal my turn to exclusive BDSM relationships. i didn't expect that it would turn into a tribute to Mistress A. And i certainly didn't expect that, halfway through that year, my dream would come true — i would become Mistress A's slave.

i also didn't expect that i would lose Mistress A.

The anniversary marks another weekend away from Mistress A. We still email daily. It's very polite and cordial, but the passion is no longer there. And we deftly avoid the elephant in the room.

At this point, it feels lost. i feel lost. Maybe i'm being pessimistic, but it feels like i'm being realistic. We've barely communicated in the past couple of weeks. And the big talk we were supposed to have in person a couple of weekends ago never happened — A told me not to come because she needed to work on a project. Same thing this weekend.

So it certainly feels like we're just allowing to to slip away.

If that's true, then i'll deal with it. i'll have to. i don't want to, but what is, is.

It saddens me because the fabric feels torn. In some ways, i've lost a degree of faith in her. Or at least in what we had. Probably i placed her on too high a pedestal, but it's not like she didn't encourage that. i thought this relationship was bullshit-proof. i thought it was drama-proof. i thought the BDSM trumped all the problems inherent in a vanilla relationship. And it didn't.

i was probably too idealistic. It was also the first time i've ever been collared. So maybe my expectations weren't realistic. That's something to ponder.

The thing is, i thought we were smarter than this. Both of us. Yet, one shred tore away, then another and another. And almost without warning, what once had seemed solid and grounded, suddenly spiraled out of control.

If you'd told me a year ago that i had a choice — live the past six months or go a different path — i wouldn't trade a thing, except the ending. i began this blog with a longing for Mistress A. i survived a very curt dismissal when i reached out to her. And then unexpectedly resumed contact and suddenly found myself accepting a role as her slave.

i tried to serve her with heart and passion. Yet, i somehow disappointed. That was never my intention. But i was disappointed, too. And i'm sure that was never her intention.

What happens from here is anyone's guess. i am still collared. Mistress A has not released me. i cling to that faint hope. But, really, it feels dead in the water.

Another surprise was that anyone would read this blog. i remember when i received my first comment, a couple of weeks into it, and couldn't believe that anyone was reading this modest little blog. Now i have small group of steady readers. i appreciate everyone who stops by here and and thank all who read me.

i can't wait to see what happens next.

YouTube BDSM: The human ashtray

2007-11-02T12:12:00.000-02:00

For fans of smoking fetishes and, of course, latex. Yum!

Daydreamin'

2007-10-25T22:09:00.000-02:00

All things considered, had a very nice birthday yesterday. i was a little disassociated with it because i had to work and because i didn't tell anyone at work.

Mistress A called me at noon to wish me a happy birthday, which was sweet, and that afternoon a basket of cookies and good stuff from her arrived at the office. Which was also sweet. It meant a lot to me.

While we are not by any means back on track, our fissure seems to have started to settle. i hope to go see her this weekend and talk through things. It will have been three weeks without seeing her, the longest time we've been apart since we began to see one another in June.

My major project is finished and tonight, for the first time in a while, i can relax and take it easy. Watch the World Series (Go Sox!). Daydream. Blog. Daydream some more. Remembering how hot it was when Mistress A refused to allow me to piss, then playfully made me wear a diaper on the outside of my pants.

And what if she pushes that further? What if she really makes me wear a diaper? She's threatened. What if she makes me drink hot tea and water all afternoon when i leave on a Sunday, and puts me in a diaper for the drive home? Will she make me call her as i finally let go ... into the diaper? What if she feeds me a laxative before i leave, or plants suppositories inside me? Or what if she makes me put on diapers, and then takes me somewhere? How humiliating! How utterly embarrassing.

It's all so ... base. So perverted. So demented. It's nothing i've ever fantasized about until Mistress A started to push those buttons. And yet, it makes my cock hard. It makes me crazy horny. It makes me cum, hard.

Birthday

2007-10-24T02:05:00.001-02:00

i haven't really thought much about my birthday. i've been immersed in a major project. But it is today. i've stopped counting. i'm much older than what i feel. And hopefully much younger than what i look.

Mistress A and i are not good. Our email exchanges got very contentious last night. To the point that N, an innocent bystander, emailed each of us and asked if we would please suspend emailing until we can talk face-to-face.

She emailed me tonight and let me know she remembered my birthday. That was sweet. i just hope that face-to-face works.

Nothing real to report. i miss Mistress A. My life feels unsettled. i am turning a year older.

That's it.

YouTube BDSM: Embryo in latex

2007-10-21T17:06:00.001-02:00

There's something sensuous and hot about this five-minute short directed by Dominic Vincent. A hot woman (fetish model Bianca Beachamp) in latex and increasingly tighter levels of bondage? Oh, yes!

Slut test

2007-10-19T23:12:00.000-02:00

Take the slut test, i did and i'm not proud; i thought i would score higher:

Thanks to Kinkerbelle for the link.

Happy

2007-10-17T00:34:00.001-02:00

i haven't written a lot specifically about Mistress A of late. i mentioned that she was unhappy with me, and that it left me in an emotional fetal position. i've been unhappy for more than a week. Simply because she was not pleased.

Things are looking up now, and i am so relieved. Last night, she began to dominate me again. At one point, she had me admit that she makes me be a slut and a servant to her.

> I'm going to train you until you believe it 24/7.

There was a certain amount of groveling involved. OK, a lot of groveling. At one point, i told her i want to make her happy, please her and amuse her. She sent back a one-word reply:

> How?

My response to her:

By having the mindset of being your slave, someone who's entire focus
is on you and your happiness and pleasure. By trying to anticipate your
needs before you have them. By submitting when you desire to torture me
and saying "Yes, Ma'am," instead of something like "i beg your pardon?"
or "What?" By appreciating everything that you give to me and how you
make my life richer and more meaningful. By putting you first, always.
By encouraging your sadism so that i can develop my masochism. By
striving always to earn your pleasure and approval. By seeking your
guidance in how i live my life, wanting always to act as if you were
with me and out of the desire to make you proud. By begging and
pleading and groveling even when i'm begging for something i might not
want, simply because i know that you want it. By offering you my
complete love and devotion. By resolving to be the best slave for you
that i can possibly be.

Mistress A's response to me:

> If you do these things I will be VERY happy.

i do so want to make Mistress A happy. She is my soul and my inspiration.

A history in fantasy and reality

2007-10-15T00:45:00.000-02:00

The piss scene that Mistress A put me through weekend before last was in reaction to a fantasy that i'd revealed to her. Something new i'm going to add to the blog — well, i promised Mistress A that i would do it as part of a groveling series of pleas to cum — is my always rich fantasy life.

When i was young, the fantasies were fueled in the oddest ways. i saw Tony Curtis in Houdini and was suddenly playing "Houdini" in my back yard. i found a piece of rope and began to tie myself up and then escaping. i was too young to realize what the thrill was about; i just knew that i enjoyed the feeling of being bound. And then, of course, pulling off the Houdini and escaping. i must have been 5 or 6 during that time.

In high school, i discovered Penthouse magazine. i always read the letters first, letters allegedly by readers that seemed to describe true-life experiences. It was the spanking letters that i gravitated to, letters where women took charge. It really didn't matter if it was spanking or being forced to dress like a woman or being used like a maid; it was the power exchange and giving up control that drew me.

i don't know precisely where they came from — maybe from Penthouse letters and maybe from a couple of BDSM-flavored porn novels i found under my old man's mattress or maybe just from my own imagination — but all i knew was that i had a need to be used. Hard.

my fantasies were severe and dark. i fantasized about being fucked in the ass while i was tied and bound. i fantasized endlessly about being spanked by a woman who worked in the local 5 & 10. She had a big, lovely ass and i must have cum 200 times imagining her making me her slave, making me lick her ass even as i submitted to her discipline.

i even fantasized about being forced to be fucked by a big Doberman or Great Dane. If it was extreme, and if i knew about it, i fantasized about it. Submitting to it, giving in to it. The more extreme, the darker, the better.

This was years before the Internet and i sometimes wonder what would have happened had the Internet existed during those formative years. Oh, my god. i knew almost nothing about BDSM or that there was a "scene" or that a whole community of people were just as kinky as i. i was almost 30 before i even read a BDSM or D/s publication.

It was almost as if my sexuality became my form of rebellion from my upbringing as a Southern Baptist. Sex was supposed to be bad. Sex was supposed to be repressed. i fantasized about that stuff to cum, and then i felt guilty and freaked out by it.

But i was obsessed with it. i don't necessarily subscribe to astrology, but i will offer this. i am a Scorpio. A friend of a friend had obtained a computer astrology program and wanted to practice on people. So i was drafted. My friend came back all excited. "He says you're not only a Scorpio, but have four houses in Scorpio. He says you're obsessed with sex. He says you're probably into whips and chains."

OK, then.

After i graduated high school, i mostly pushed all that aside and lived firmly in the vanilla world for the next decade and more. i almost married. i lived in a small Southern city and only dated the most desirable women: the gorgeous TV reporter, the hot babe disc jockey, the fashion model.

But i never felt fulfilled. Something was always missing, something elemental. i always thought it was because they "weren't the right one." Well, that was true, sort of. It was actually impossible for them to be "the right one;" none of them came equipped with a whip and a desire to explore all the possibilities of sex. And i didn't come equipped with the knowledge that was what i wanted. All i knew was that something wasn't quite right. i'd reach a certain point in the relationship and be possessed by an instinctive urgency to escape.

Then i moved to New England. Where, even if sex was still as repressed, at least they were more liberal about it. And New York City was a mere 3 and a half hours away. that's where everything changed.

Man, this post went in a totally different direction than i'd intended. But i'm going to keep the train of thought, i think. i've learned a couple of things, made connections as i wrote.

And knowing that Mistress A is about to absorb all my deepest fantasies ... it makes me hard with desire.

Post a secret

2007-10-15T00:16:00.000-02:00

The one non-kink site on my blog roll is Post Secret. If you're not familiar with it, Post Secret began as an art project by a guy named Frank Warren. He invited people to write their secret on a postcard and mail it to him. He posts a new batch every Sunday. And many, such as this one, are definitely kink-flavored.

I came across this story he wrote for Amazon.com on the page for his new book, A Lifetime of Secrets. It perfectly sums up why a the web site has become so popular and meaningful:

When I give PostSecret presentations at college campuses, my hope is that people I have never met will be inspired to change their lives through the secrets and stories being shared. Not long ago, at one of my talks, it was my life that was changed, and the secret that inspired me came from a stranger in the front row.
I began my presentation by handing out blank postcards to everyone in the auditorium. I invited each person to anonymously write down a secret on a card and then pass it on. For the next hour, the postcards circulated and were read silently multiple times. At the end of my talk, I asked if anyone would like to stand and read the secret they were holding at that moment. A man in the front row stood up and haltingly read:
I wish I could apologize to my younger brother for the way I treated him growing up.
He sat down and exchanged a long look with the young man next to him. After more volunteers read aloud some of the other secrets that had been passed around, I collected all the cards. The man in the front row handed me the postcard he had read from, and the two men walked out together.
His postcard was blank.
I have witnessed many times how the courage of sharing a secret can be contagious. When I realized that the man had been pretending to read someone else’s secret and that the person he had left with was likely his brother, I was inspired.
Growing up, I was not an ideal older brother. As an adult, I have wished for an opportunity to apologize for some of my actions but did not want to open old wounds. I have not shared this secret with my brother . . . until now.

Sometimes my heart cries for some of the postcards. Other times, i laugh out loud. But i always react. Which is why i love the web site.

The big easy

2007-10-13T04:10:00.000-02:00

It's been a not-so-easy week. Mistress A was very unhappy with me; she ordered me to remove a blog post that crossed the line into her privacy. She called me when she read it, and pretty much chewed me out. i didn't mean to intrude. But i did.

As i told her later, it caused me to go into an emotional fetal position. i didn't mean to anger her. Pleasing her is my mission. When i fail, i am miserable. When she is unhappy because of me, i feel so worthless. So empty. A complete failure.

That has been my mindset this week. i feel devastated. For the first time in months, the muscles in my shoulder blades caused me pain. That's where i feel stress. i can't move my head without a sharp stab.

Mistress A seems to have forgiven me. Or at least, to have given me a second chance. But it still doesn't feel right yet. i have such guilt. i'm still sad.

i won't see her this weekend. i'm in New Orleans for a wedding. And, holy shit, i got hit on. Here's the email i sent to Mistress A, after she said she wants to come to New Orleans:

Mistress,

Maybe in the spring? Or November? Sometime when the weather is reasonable. The weather couldn't have been more ideal this weekend. God, it was gorgeous.

Just got back from the wedding and, oh my god, i got hit on!

i was at the church and i saw her come in. Had a very interesting look. She has short dark hair, but it is blonde on top. And i thought, that's interesting. Then i looked at her face and thought, yeah, and she looks tormented, too.

So i sat in the pew in front of her, off on the other side. And i felt her looking at me, and she slides all the way down until she's behind me and starts chatting. She moves up to sit with friends and invites me to join them. Then asks if i took a cab to the church (i did) and if i want to ride with them to the reception.

At the reception, she mentions she was "assaulted" as a kid. A little while latter, she mentions she's been "assaulted" several times. What is that? i just draw the tormented souls.

She was interesting, though. A screenwriter and filmmaker. She lives in the Quarter, and i walked her home. And maybe could've done more. It was fun to flirt. But ... how do i put this ... i feel as if i'm so past vanilla sex. Kind of like going from vinyl albums to MP3s. Or going from hamburger to steak.

Maybe it'd be cool to have a burger now and then, but the desire really isn't there. Well, i take that back. The desire is, i feel extremely sexual these days. And i will look at some of the sexy women in our office with lust. But actually fuck them? i just have gotten this attitude that it won't be as good an orgasm as masturbating to the things you've done to me, or will do to me. So my lust for them just goes into the pool of lust in me that is controlled by you.

God, i hope that makes sense. i didn't come home entirely sober!

i miss you so much. You're always on my mind. Even as i was getting hit on, i was thinking, "Hmmm, is this going to be the night i call for Mistress's permission?" i even plotted how i could sneak out on the balcony to call. But, in the end, i just didn't pursue it. And part of that was you. i know we're poly and that i have permission so long as i call you. But, considering this week, it didn't feel emotionally right either.

It was a GREAT wedding and great reception. The reception, a brass band showed up in the middle. Playing four or five songs and had the room DANCING! The room was right on the Mississippi; you could see the river glistening in the moonlight and it was one of the most beautiful sights you could ever hope to see.

i want to see that with you, holding you close. And knowing that i belong to you. That you own me. There's a place here where slave auctions were held. Maybe we should see it.

Your slaveyboy

YouTube BDSM: Vagina power

2007-10-10T14:12:00.000-02:00

This is from a public access show in Atlanta starring Alexyss Tylor, and one of the most bizarre YouTubes i've ever seen:

On slow boil

2007-10-06T22:27:00.001-02:00

My day went much like this:

6:15 - Right now, i sit a few feet away from Mistress A. My bladder is full and she hasn't allowed me to pee in over three hours. This weekend, she says, is about me being in constant sub-space. i have to ask permission to do anything and everything today, this weekend. Everything. Every decision is her's. Including using the bathroom.

7:30 - The need to piss has somehow dissipated. It had to. i actually got down on my hands and knees before Mistress A to beg her to piss. Permission was denied. She asked how i might amuse her, to change her mind. Maybe a song. The only corny song i can think of is the Popeye theme song. i sing it to her. She is amused. But not enough to allow me to piss.

8:00 - i am sleepy. i've missed my afternoon tea and need the jolt. i give in and ask Mistress A for permission to make hot tea. She smiles, and says yes. She also tells me to fill my water bottle. Knowing it will only increase the need to urinate.

8:30 - i need to pee. Seriously. It doesn't hurt, but it's very uncomfortable. i stand and ask Mistress A for permission to pee. i don't know if it involves peeing in my pants, going outside to pee or what. i just need to pee. She denies permission because is still don't have to go. If i did, i'd be begging a lot harder. i ask what i can do to please her. She tells me to go downstairs and ask for N's advice.

8:35 - N explains it this way: Mistress A appreciates sincerity. If, for example, you're being interrogated by the secret Russian police, you don't give up the secrets until you reach the breaking point. Otherwise, there's no point to it.

8:40 - i go back upstairs and sit down. Suffer. My bladder full of hot, trapped piss.

9:00 - Mistress A gets up and returns with an adult-sized diaper. Which she wraps around me ... in case i piss in my pants. i'm afraid that's ultimately going to be the end game. Mistress A even asks if i've brought another pair of jeans. When i say i haven't, she mentions she has a very good washer and dryer.

9:15 - N comes in, sees me in the diapers, and smiles and laughs. When B comes down to cook dinner, N walks back into the living room in front of him and says, "Mister Master, may i pee-pee?"

"Yes, you may," he replies. N grins at me, then skips out of the room to do what i certainly can't do. i think it is rather cruel.

9:30 - i ask to re-fill my water bottle. Mistress A gives me a devilish grin. "Yes," she says. i know my goal: To hold the piss until it hurts.

10:00 - We eat a delicious meal. Flatiron steak, try it. Trust me on that. As we eat, Mistress A asks N how much a bladder can hold. They are teasing me for having gone seven hours without pissing. N finds an internet site and starts to read aloud from it. She says the bladder can stretch, etc. etc. If problems occur, they occur in the kidneys.

10:25 - i realize my kidneys are hurting. i excuse myself to brush my teeth. i am starting to hurt. i am feeling a little light-headed. i know when i go back downstairs, i will beg Mistress A to piss. i know it will be sincere. She will know that i have suffered for her.

10:30 - i stand in front of Mistress A and very matter-of-factly beg her to allow me to piss. She knows i am serious. "Follow me," she says. She grabs my arm and pulls me upstairs. i realize she and N have plotted something out, and that N is coming with us.

Mistress A puts down a line of bubble-wrap on her bed and tells me to lie face down on it. Then she and N climb on top of me and start to tickle me. Oh, shit, are they going to tickle me until i piss my pants? They torture me with tickles and i squirm and beg Mistress A to piss. i am begging and pleading and groveling.

She tells me to piss where i am, or else she'll send me back. i must piss, but i can't. N helpfully interjects that peeing while lying face down is difficult.

So Mistress A leads me into her bathroom. She cuts off the diaper. i pull down my pants and sit down and, finally, the relief of pissing! It must take 30 seconds for me to empty my bladder. The sense of expelling the urine is very sexual, almost orgasmic in a way, in the relief i felt. At any rate, it's the closest thing to an orgasm that i had last night or yesterday.

Mistress A kept me in subspace all day. On slow boil. Letting me feel what it's like to go 24/7. Being totally controlled by her, to the point of when i could and couldn't use the bathroom, depending on her pleasure.

Every week, she takes me in deeper and deeper. i can see that it's happening, but it happens so slowly that the fall seems almost dream-like, surreal. She's taking me places she knows i want to go, places i've always feared to go. i know it's coming. i know the trip has begun. And i know i'm not at the wheel.

Every second of every minute, i was acutely aware of being owned, of being her slave. Of being under her thumb.

The healing

2007-10-06T02:02:00.000-02:00

For her birthday two months ago, Mistress A set up an appointment for she and i with her masseuse, Kate. Mistress A raved about her skills, how she had studied massage in China and is even semi-involved in the BDSM scene.

i've had massages before, but never one like this. She especially focused on my feet. OK, my feet are very fucked up. i have the Pike's Peak of high arches. i severely sprained my ankle a few years ago and it caused more problems. Kate worked on them. It hurt. When she finished, she suggested that i find a masseuse where i live to work on my feet. She said that if i had them "re-aligned," that i'd see a huge improvement in how they felt.

The next day, my feet felt better than they have in years. i decided to take Kate's advice and find a masseuse in the city to work on my feet. But the more i thought about it, the more i realized: Kate had the vision on how to make my feet better; it would be foolish to have anyone else work on them.

i've seen her every weekend since. It is truly painful. Her massages challenge me, even as a masochist. She is re-aligning the muscles and bones in my feet. And they feel better than they've felt in years. They feel uncaged. Liberated. i've nicknamed her "The Healer."

i got here last night stressed out over the real world. And it has vanished. Mistress A and i retreated to her lair not long after i arrived. She talked about how i'm liberated now. i'm free to be who i am with her. i don't have to worry about judgments or being rejected. It's safe to be me.

Late last night, we laid in her bed and held each other. Nothing kinky, just holding. Well, except when she sent me away and i begged her to play with my nipples first. It was all i could do — i'm on orgasm restriction this weekend, i'm told.

But i am here and at peace again. Kate has healed my feet. Mistress A is working to heal my soul.

Post Secrets

2007-10-03T01:26:00.000-02:00

Post Secret is one of my favorite web sites. People create a postcard that explains their deepest, darkest secret, and then mail it to Frank. And Frank picks the best of the litter and posts them every Sunday.

Here's two from this week that remind me of what i have with Mistress A. i hope i never have to go through this vanilla stuff again.

And this one just makes me appreciate her even more. There but for the grace of god go i.

YouTube BDSM: Zumanity

2007-10-03T00:53:00.001-02:00

Oh, what a show. Zumanity. Cirque du Soleil gets raunchy. Sexy. Into leather.

It was the first Vegas show i ever saw. And, of course, my favorite. i even partied once with Joey, the transvestite dominatrix who MC's the show. Zumanity is sexy, sweet and a definite walk on the wild side. With just amazing acrobatics. It is Cirque du Soleil, after all. If you're ever in Vegas, yes! Go see it.

Now for a preview.

The Beating of My Life, Re-defined

2007-10-02T23:07:00.000-02:00

i was still out on the gazebo when Mistress A and N came back home Sunday afternoon. As i walked inside to go out to the front door to greet them, the phone started to ring. i stopped as i went past Mistress A's office — she has a caller ID that mechanically voices the identity of the caller, and i suspected it could be her. The computer voice said the caller was unknown, so i didn't answer.

When i reached Mistress A and N, she told me she'd just tried to call. Dammit. She was going to tell me to go upstairs, get undressed, lie down on her bed and wait for her. Instead, she told me to help N carry in groceries. When we were finished, she looked at me and snarled, "OK, slave, now go upstairs, get undressed, lie down on the bed and wait for me."

Mistress A's shoes sounded ominously on the floor as she walked up the stairs and into her lair. "i have a little surprise," she said as she stood behind me. "N is going to join us."

She walked over to her Wall of Pain and began to dig around in her pouch full of canes. She picked out one and walked over. i shuddered as she laid it on my ass to measure the stroke. The first one was almost light and tentative. The second a little more sure. The third one made me cry with pain.

Mistress A was on her third or fourth cane when N walked in with her Master — and Mistress A's husband — B. She laid down beside me, and Mistress A continued to pick out new crops. First, she would lay into N, then walk over to me. Every new cane was worse, thicker and sturdier and more painful. "These leave deep bruises," she told me at one point. "Because they go deep into the tissue."

As she beat us, B returned and Mistress A told me to look back. B had a long ratchet screwdriver. Attached to the end was a six- or seven-inch red dildo. N squealed in both lust and pain when B began to fuck her as Mistress A caned our asses. N had a quick orgasm, and then she had to suck the dildo while the caning continued.

How do i describe it? How do you describe the most intense pain you've ever felt? How do you describe wanting to crawl out of your skin? How do you describe howling screams that come from the very core of your being? How do you describe being pushed farther than you've ever been pushed? Mistress A laughed when i began to crawl into a fetal position after she finished beating me. She'd just order me to straighten and continue on with another cane.

And the canes weren't enough. When she finished with them, she picked up a thick wooden paddle that B made for her years ago. And she used it to beat N and i mercilessly. That was pain. That went beyond erotic, it was pure pain that wasn't enjoyable or part of a scene. It was just pain for pain's sake, because that's the way Mistress A wanted it.

When she finally stopped, we laid together on her bed and she tenderly held me and i crawled into her arms. i was deep into a subspace. i was deep into her. i was at peace. And marked. Just as she'd promised i would be.

Even though N came while B was fucking her with the rubber cock, i was not allowed to cum. In fact, as i was leaving to return to the city, Mistress A told me, "No cumming without my permission."

Once i got back here, i emailed her and begged and pleaded to cum. The first time, she wrote back and told me to ask her again ... in a little while.

i begged even more. i pleaded even more. Finally, she gave her permission. It made it seem like a seven-hour scene. And i came accordingly. You can't see me, but i'm smiling at the memory. Not the beating. The beating almost scared me. It took me to the very edge. No, it pushed me across the edge.

And i thought last week was the beating of my life.

YouTube BDSM: Bettie Page week, pt. 5

2007-10-01T00:03:00.001-02:00

And now, for the grand finale of my YouTube tribute to Bettie Page, here's a very cool television interview with Bettie Page. Her face is never shown — she wants to be remembered for who she was, not who she is. But it's wonderous to finally hear the voice that goes with the classic images we all know and love.

Waiting for a cane

2007-09-30T18:36:00.000-02:00

It's late Sunday afternoon and i'm sitting out back in Mistress A's gazebo. The first signs of fall are here. There's a chill in the air and a crystal-blue sky and a slight breeze. Leaves are starting to fall and the only sounds are an occasional bird whistle, a leaf skipping across the ground and the distant sound of cars on the highway.

Mistress A and N are out spending some quality time together. N was gone all week and didn't get home until last night, late. Mistress A left me a note of chores to do while she was gone. The last one was: Await your caning.

How, exactly, does one await a caning? Except with great trepidation?

Friday night, Mistress A gave me the most wonderful orgasm. Durex makes this cock ring/vibrator thing and she placed it around my cock and balls, then rubbed mint-flavored lube on my cock.

Except i had no idea what it was. For a while, i thought it was some electro toy. But i loved it! She played with my balls while i masturbated, talking to me about how low she will take me. To the point i was telling her that i'm little more than a cheap whore for her. It was another intense orgasm, to the point Mistress A is now teasing me about being 18 years old.

Last night, we laid in bed until late talking and sharing. She asked me to tell her my impressions about her since we've reunited and fallen in love, and what surprised me and continues to surprise me.

Probably the thing that surprised me the most was to see the tender side of Mistress A. i mean, she was always nurturing to me and kind. But i wasn't expecting the tenderness, the woman who loves to cuddle and shows her vulnerability.

i knew the other side, the one that will give me a vicious caning within the next hour or so. The one that is going to make a rubber mold of my cock, and force me to suck it and be fucked with it. And then further the humiliation by having me take pictures of it and email them to her.

The Clone-A-Willie kit arrived a few days ago, so the cast of my cock may come today as well.

i love the BDSM. i love to serve her. i love to make her happy. i love to please her. i also love her tenderness as much, or more, as the dominance and submission.

So i sit and wait. She is running late and i must leave soon. As much as i fear the pain, i ache for it as well. She is especially vicious with her canes. She has promised to mark me. i won't be able to sit comfortably tomorrow.

Again, i will suffer for her. Because i love her.

YouTube BDSM: Bettie Page Week, Pt. 4

2007-09-29T22:20:00.000-02:00

Another video featuring the lovely Bettie Page. In today's episode, the question must be asked: Why isn't someone there to rub poor Bettie's back?

YouTube BDSM: Bettie Page Week, Pt. 3

2007-09-28T19:31:00.000-02:00

In this short, the lovely and sexy Ms. Page gets her inner-Houdini on ...

YouTube BDSM: Bettie Page Week, Pt. 2

2007-09-27T19:45:00.000-02:00

Today, a sexy and decidedly kinky bondage and kidnapping scene.

The Real Life

2007-09-27T00:42:00.000-02:00

Mistress A and i spoke on the telephone tonight. Just general things. She takes a keen interest in my life and, in many subtle ways, has taken control of it. This goes way beyond the sex.

For example, two months ago i went to work every day in fear of being fired. i avoided my boss because i feared him. i went to work not to succeed, but to not fuck up.

She questioned me for insights into what was going on. Then gave me a different approach to take with my boss. i did exactly as she suggested, with a couple of my own improvisations. Essentially, i manipulated him to change his view of me. And it worked. Today, he sent out an email to everyone complimenting people involved in a big project we just finished. i led that project. And got singled out several times for praise.

i did it, but Mistress A showed me the way.

Too often, and i am as guilty as anyone else, we use our blogs to talk about the sexual part of the BDSM relationship. Of course, there's so much more to it than that. Sure, the sex is the titillation that attracts readers. And some of my favorite blogs are the ones that detail scenes and psychological control in explicit detail.

But it's also important to remember there is another side to a BDSM relationship. Especially at the level i'm at in this relationship.

i am a slave. Mistress A owns me. That is powerful to me. Deeply meaningful. Defining.

And what you must understand is that i don't just feel her impact in terms of my sexual life. It's very much in my real life as well. Her influence has turned around my professional life. She encourages. She builds my confidence because she believes in me. When i succeed, she tells me i've made her proud.

She doesn't micromanage my life, but she does gently point the way. She listens to my thoughts and respects them. But i find that i always follow her guidance. Because she's always fair, she's always smart and she always has my best interests at heart.

All of which is why Mistress A is such a remarkable woman.

And then there's this, the last few sentences of the email i just received:

By the way, in case you've forgotten, I just wanted to mention something.

I'm going to beat you this weekend.

This time I intend to leave marks.

And, oh yes, the sex is fucking hot, too.

Very hot.

YouTube BDSM: Bettie Page Week, Pt. 1

2007-09-26T22:03:00.000-02:00

Today marks the start of a new feature on my blog: BDSM, YouTube-style. i'm not going away from the original purpose of "a submissive story," which is to chronicle my life as a submissive and, now, a slave to Mistress A. But i also thought it would be fun to post YouTube clips on a regular basis.

And how better to kick things off than with a week-long tribute to the often-imitated-but-never-matched Bettie Page?

She was the January 1955 Playmate of the Month in Playboy, but it was the bondage and fetish modeling with photographer Irving Klaw that made her the first famous bondage model. Unfortunately most of those photos and videos were destroyed when Klaw faced obscenity prosecution.

Here's one that survived. Love the bondage. Love the garters. Love the theme song!

The beating of my life

2007-09-24T22:57:00.000-02:00

Mistress A and i were in her lair.

She had decided she wanted the toys she'd packed away several years ago in the last move. She had a big cedar chest brought upstairs, and we were looking at it and trying to figure out how to get everything inside, particularly the whips. Then it hit me: Hang them from the wall over the trunk.

Mistress A loved it. She actually had a couple of racks in the garage that could be used for just that. i fetched them, and screwed them into the wall. Mistress A cried with glee. Then off we were, to the bins that held her whips. And one by one by one, she handed them to me:

Whips, crops, paddles, straps, this vicious rubber single-tail — just about every implement of pain imaginable. You could just see Mistress A's spirits lift. As if her life had been made whole again.

The beating came after dinner, after midnight.

We walked up to her room. "Strip," she said, her voice suddenly turned cold and harsh. "Strip and lie down on my bed." A few moments later, i laid there blindfolded with my hands and ankles in leather restraints. "I'm going to give you the beating you've always ached for," she whispered in my ear, in between kisses and bites. "I'm going to beat you like you've never been beaten."

She did.

For nearly two hours, Mistress A re-familiarized herself with her implements of pain. i rolled in pain. i screamed. i screamed again. And then i screamed louder. Again and again and again.

And even then, she wasn't finished. When i asked her afterwards what she had used on me, she got off her bed and walked over to the wall. "I started with this one," she said, picking up a little whip that looked almost frilly. She'd used it to warm up my skin. But only for a while; by the end, it was stinging my skin hard.

As she walked toward me, she struck my ass with it again, hard. And again. And again.

Then Mistress A casually walked back to her Wall of Pain, hung the whip back up and looked up and down the rack. She picked up a another whip. "I used this one next," she said. "This is the one you said felt so good, at least at the start."

Yes, i remembered it well. It was warm, caressing, at the start. By the end, i was screaming and jumping with every blow. And Mistress A took it off the rack, walked over, and began to beat me with it again. Maybe 15 seconds, maybe 30. And, again, casually walked back to the Wall of Pain and picked up another one of her "toys."

She picked up every whip she'd used on me — there had to have been 15 different ones, maybe more — and used them all to beat me again. She beat my ass. She beat my thighs. She beat my back. She beat my cock. All in 20 or 30 second bursts. i was so deep i was floating. The pain. Oh, my god, the pain. i've never screamed so much in my life. My mouth and throat were dry. From the screaming and from the begging. i've never begged her for mercy before.

She only showed mercy long after i'd begged for it.

i stayed achingly hard for the entire duration. And the orgasm i had once she sent me to my room ... the cum just shot out like a bottle rocket in one big burst. i haven't shot like that in friggin' years.

And the thing is, she barely left a mark on me.

How can that be?

YouTube clip of the day: Diana Rigg

2007-09-22T16:41:00.000-02:00

Diana Rigg in leather. Hot!

And a shout-out to Gloria Brame for this post that inspired a Diana Rigg frame of mind.

And i also found the show's opening sequence:

The comment

2007-09-22T02:24:00.000-02:00

Mistress A strikes.

She leaves a comment about the "Clone-A-Willy Kit" that she has ordered me to purchase. It is a kit that allows you to make a rubber cock that is a mold of your own cock. Ingenious, no?

Mistress A had already announced her intentions to fuck me with it. She loves the delicious irony that i will fucked by my own cock.

Then comes her comment. She's going to make me suck it, too. Because she knows i've always wanted to suck my own cock. Well, maybe, long ago in another universe. i wasn't limber enough. i guess now, that doesn't make much difference.

The kit is supposed to be here by next weekend.

Work kept me home tonight. i should be with Mistress A right now. i miss her. When i'm away from her, i'll often look back at past entries of this blog and marvel — it's a story that seems too good to be true. And yet, here i am.

We talked tonight. She told me that she's told many people about me this week. That she's found her slaveyboy soulmate.

Jesus, god. Let me pinch myself. When i first started this blog, who would've ever thunk it?

Whore

2007-09-20T00:38:00.000-02:00

Last night, Mistress A demanded another photo with a message taped to my body. The message was my choice.

What to do?

i remembered early Saturday night. We were in her bedroom. It was early evening and we had retired to her lair to cuddle. Mistress A, after a while, began to attack my ear with her mouth. She kissed it, licked it, bit it. And talked to me. Telling me again how deeply she owns me. How she's going to make me into a whore. A whore that will do anything, involving anyone, that she demands.

At first, she let me rub my cock through my underwear. It still carried the wound from the CB-3000 that pinched the hell out of my cock as it began to break apart. But it didn't hurt to rub it and before long, i was begging her to allow me to cum. i hadn't had an orgasm since Tuesday because of the CB-3000. Thank god, she said yes.

It was an orgasm that exploded from my gut. It was very primal. Not multiple so much as it was pulsating. And it lasted so long. i was wearing a t-shirt at the time, and it was covered in cum afterwards. i lifted up the t-shirt afterwards to remove it and it felt heavy.

And Mistress A was delighted that she made me cum from merely torturing my ear. "You're polymorphous perverse," she said. "I love that!"

So last night as i pondered the message to tape on my ass, there seemed to be but one choice:

She didn't allow me to cum last night. In fact, i haven't cum since that intense orgasm on Saturday. i am horny and Mistress A is taunting me with a beating next weekend.

i am owned and happy. And already such a slut that i send things like that photo to Mistress A. Knowing who she is. And all that that implies.

Oh, my, my.

Depraved

2007-09-17T23:52:00.000-02:00

Mistress A is an eBay person. She scouts the site for little jewels like a master hunter after prey. Her lair is decorated with butterfly art she's discovered: plates, framed cases of the different species.

She also shops for sex stuff. Of course. And last week, she found this:

What is it? The Clone-A-Willy Kit, which allows you and your's to make a rubber mold of your cock. Well, more specifically, the mold becomes a dildo ... that exactly mirrors your own cock. It even comes with a vibrator.

Mistress A has instructed me to buy one. We are going to mold my cock. Then i am going to be fucked with it. As Mistress A puts it: i am going to be fucked by, literally, my own cock.

That's depraved. Completely and totally. Which, of course, is what Mistress A loves about it.

Oh, my god ... There is something totally cool about have a cast of your cock. Just totally cool. And yet, there is just something ... something completely twisted about that. Especially knowing that i'm going to be fucked ... by a replica of my own cock?

Why does that make me so hard?

Much to report from the weekend. Stayed tuned ...

How to break a CB-3000

2007-09-15T19:48:00.000-02:00

The CB-3000 began to split apart Thursday night. And completely broke apart yesterday. Leaving a nasty sore on my cock in the process.

i like to think it just couldn't contain me because i'm so well hung that my cock broke it. Mistress A suggested that i should instead write that my "weinie" is too small to have possibly had anything to do with it so ... it must be workmanship.

Thursday night, i felt a severe pinch from the CB-3000. At first, i thought it was pinching hair. i adjusted, then felt it again. Adjusted and then felt it again. Friday morning, the pinch was much worse. i finally looked closely and discovered that the CB-3000 was coming apart, literally, at the seams. And that the very delicate skin of my cock was sneaking inside and getting pinched in the process.

Which had left a very ugly looking and unsettlingly large ulcer on my cock.

Of course, the problem at hand was the fact that i was locked in and had no key with which to release myself.

i emailed Mistress A and she called to tell me to try to break it off. It was very easy to do after i discovered it was practically falling apart. i was able to pull my balls through and escape.

The wound is healing, and it thankfully isn't painful.

We're going to send it back to the manufacturer and get a replacement.

In the meantime, i don't even want to talk about what she wants me to purchase next. As she said, with glee, it is just absolutely depraved ...

2007-09-12T23:53:00.000-02:00

i had to send Mistress A another picture tonight, this time from the front.

She sent me an email that said:

You are a very very very good slave.

You can unlock the cage now.

Ha, ha. Of course, Mistress A knows that i CAN'T unlock the cage. She has the only keys. i told her she was cruel. But i also told her that it makes me happy that she thinks i'm a very good slave. She replied:

I do. I love you. You're wonderful for me. You make me happy.

Which makes me happy: i make Mistress A happy, how wonderful.

Mistress A told me that i complete her.

She completes me, too.