Kennel

He had shown me two different kennels that he’d found online for reasonable prices. They were just the kind of kennel that one would purchase for their dog, nothing exclusive to BDSM, but that didn’t matter. After all, I’d tossed around the idea of using the crate I bought for my own dog now that he’s old enough to be able to manage without one. We were debating the measurements, whether or not he’d have enough room to move around. One had a door on top that would allow him to just step in, which would ease the worry of whether or not his broad shoulders were going to fit through a door in the first place. The door on top would also allow me to be able to reach in and touch him with ease. The shipping for that was atrocious though and so the other kennel was chosen. It was the better choice anyhow, giving us a couple more inches to work with.

The day was full of excitement. I got to see him that morning, briefly, before he had to take a trip to the airport. The chastity device had secured my cock once more and he was making a necessary stop in order for me to swap out the metal lock for a plastic lock with numbers on it. I wrote my name on the back of the lock. I took a picture of the lock. He watched in amusement as I did. I didn’t much care if he thought I was going overboard with the ‘security’ of ensuring he didn’t find a way free from his device — the ritual of it all was pretty entertaining to me. Almost as entertaining as the text I received later about how much he disliked having to sit in a stall in a public restroom at the airport.

When he returned to my place, we got to spend some time together. I’d seen him a couple of times that week: first when he came over on Tuesday to give himself to me, then on Wednesday when we needed to make a necessary adjustment to the CB device he was wearing so that he wouldn’t end up with pinched skin. I’d told him to bring the tape he was going to use to repair the case when he came over Tuesday but in his rush to get out the door to hand me the key he didn’t get the text in time. It was of no concern to me as it afforded me another visit from him. Three times in one week was probably the best we’d ever done. It was much better than the none in two months we’d just gone through.

After spending some time together, we discussed what exactly was going to take place that day. We’d briefly discussed it on Tuesday when he came to Blake’s and we talked about my taking Ownership of him. We’d briefly talked about it the weekend before, when he started up on his chastity carousel again. Talking chastity is hot and fun, but if he was serious about doing chastity with me again, he’d come to me talking about a piercing. So that was what was going to take place. The one regret that I’d had from before was not getting to mark him. Not getting to mark my cock. It couldn’t have happened then — he wasn’t ready for it — but it was going to happen now. There was no tricking him into Ownership this time around. This time, he came to me for it.

Once the piercing was done, we headed out. I was finally going to get to see where he lived. I knew that he was on the other side of town, but I knew nothing more than that. I had dreamed up what I thought his house would look like. I tried to imagine the decorations, how it was painted, keeping in mind that he was a minimalist. I knew he had a pool and that he liked to grill and I liked to picture what his backyard would look like. I tried to imagine what the house would smell like, feel like, when I first walked in. But before I could get carried away in all of that thinking, I spied the package by the door: the kennel that he had ordered had arrived just in time for Christmas.

We wasted no time in tearing it out of the box and setting it up. I watched him crawl around on the floor assembling it and I did a fantastic job of supervising. It went up quick and it looked sturdy. There was still the lingering question of whether or not he was actually going to fit through the one door it offered, but once it was up on its wheels and the wheels were locked in place, he crawled in with no problems. He would have to go in head first, come out head first, but since he had enough room to turn around inside, that wouldn’t be a problem. From inside the kennel he looked up at me and grinned. I snapped a picture. It might be one of my favorites of him.

The pan that was supposed to be included is actually two pans and instead of sitting inside of the crate, it sits underneath the crate. It will make me have to rethink one of the scenes I really wanted to do with him. The scene would not be impossible to achieve, but I was really hoping for one solid pan to sit upon the wires of the crate. To make it a little more like home, we threw in a blanket and two pillows and let him curl up inside for a minute to make sure that they wouldn’t take up too much necessary space. Then the kennel was wheeled back into the bedroom where it would taunt me until I was ready to use it.

Before we could do some hot kennel play though, we had to deal with the beautiful hood that he’d purchased. The last one he had didn’t fit well. It had enough snap on attachments that his mouth was available to me and he’d always have his nose exposed and this one only had one tiny little hole over his mouth to allow him to breathe. He’d tried to put it on himself earlier in the morning and panicked. This hood was definitely something he couldn’t use by himself. Between the lacing and the straps and ensuring it was on just right, it takes a bit of wiggle and finesse. Once it’s on correctly, it forces the hole right over his mouth. He doesn’t naturally breathe through his mouth though, so it dries him out. It’s something we’ll have to watch for in extended periods of play with the hood.

To combat the issue of panic, we went slow. At first, we just put the hood on. I let him adjust it over his mouth, let the padding inside of the hood ensure that he wouldn’t be without air, and just stroked down his neck and chest. When he felt safe enough with that, I started to lace up the back of the hood. I didn’t bother with straps or anything else yet, just tightening and tying the lace. Again, I ran my hands over his body, down the outsides of his arms, inside his legs, all over. He was starting to slip. I did up the straps. There are four of them and each of them could be locked, but I was still prepared to have to take the hood off quickly. After the straps were tightened down and he was comfortable, I tightened up the laces. Later, I was told that was when he started to float. Finally, the locks were put on. I let him sit like that for a while as I touched all over his body. I love the way he reacts to touch when he’s in a hood. This was precisely what made hoods appealing to me. Sometimes I would flick against the hood, watch him jump because it was so loud, then bring him back down again. During this testing phase, I made sure to cover his air hole, to let him know that I’d cut off his air, and then to give it back to him, to make him process it. To let him know that if anything like that were to happen during a scene I would be right there to make sure everything was okay. He seemed to struggle with it for a minute, but eventually he relaxed. I kissed over his shoulders, down his chest, settled in his lap, and stroked his face — something I can’t actually do unless he’s wearing a hood, so it’s a real treat for me.

Twenty minutes from the last adjustment until when I started to take the hood off and he seemed to do just fine. We talked about it after and he said that he didn’t think he would have issues with it again. The panic had come from not being able to put the hood on correctly by himself and that wasn’t going to be a problem while I was there to play with him. It wasn’t long before we were in the bedroom, getting the hood prepared for use, staring at the kennel that I wanted to shove him in.

I had him strip down to his underwear, an unfortunate necessity in order to help combat the bleeding of the piercing, and he offered to me his wrists and ankles for me to put his cuffs on. I locked each one on him. Then he stood and put his hood on while I stepped behind him to start lacing it up. The first strap was wrapped around his neck, holding the lacing in. The lock was locked and I ran my fingers down his spine. Then the strap across the back of the head. Click went the lock and I ran my fingers down his left arm. The strap around his face. Click went the lock and I stroked down his chest. The strap by his jaw. Click went the lock and I stroked down his right arm. Finally, the leash was attached to the ring of the collar on his hood. A heavy chain leash.

I carefully guided him forward, one step at a time, until he was through the doors of his bedroom. With a gentle tug, he went down on all fours. With a slight pull, he crawled forward. With a touch to the back of a hand, he lifted it into the kennel and he found his way through from there. I held the handle of the leash carefully as he turned himself around inside of the kennel, his head resting in the corner, one hand by his side and the other by his chest. The leash ran through the top of the kennel and hung down the side. Four clips came out and secured each limb to the kennel itself. Then I let him sit.

For a while I left the kennel door open. We weren’t sure how he was going to react to being inside of it, while hooded, while restrained to the actual kennel. There was no shifting. There was no turning around. There was no curling up. Every now and again I would tug on the leash. He could hear the chain rattling against the metal cage as well as feel it tug against his collar. Every now and again he would pull his arm away from the kennel edge, ensuring he was still restrained. Every now and again he would make these soft sounds, whimpers almost, but I knew he was okay. I would touch him. I would run my fingers over his leather-clad face. I wanted to penetrate him but the position wasn’t very conducive for that kind of play. Then, I closed the door. I locked it. I sat right outside with the keys in my hand.

Looking at him, I couldn’t help but to enjoy myself. This was a man that I had met six months ago, someone that had seemed almost fearless to me at first. He took a chance in meeting me, in playing with me. He let me take him to new, dark places. He let me challenge him. I found what he was afraid of and pushed him. This was a man that I had always found brave. Even when he was afraid, he was still brave, still willing to stick by his word. No one that would see him on the street would ever think he would be like this. As I grew to know him, talked to him, asked him questions, it was easy to see that there was so much going on in his head. So many worries. Regrets. Fears. Concerns. So much stress. So much to deal with. I just wanted him to give it all to me. I wanted to take it all away from him. Steal him away from the world, strip him down and make him vulnerable, and then show him that everything would be okay. Put him in his own little place, secure him, let him struggle and see that he was kept, and allow him to let it all go. Let him float. Give him some peace. Give him some quiet. Give him some comfort and safety, the way that he does for so many others. Watch over him, the way he watches over them. Protect him the way he protects them. Care for him the way he cares for them.

I watched the rise and fall of his chest. I listened to him breathe. I listened to the sounds that he made. In those quiet moments when I thought of nothing but him, when I watched him, when I saw him in a way that few others have ever seen and fewer could even imagine, I thought he was beautiful. Beautiful and brave for being able to do this, for allowing me to see it, for going through with it when years ago he may not have. I fingered the keys in my hand, the trust that he had given me. It was a wonderful feeling. I unlocked the door, let it swing wide, but I didn’t touch him. I wanted him to still feel all wrapped up in the tranquility of being put away, of being kept.

Forty-five minutes after he went in, it was time to come out. I removed each clip that kept him confined to the kennel. I moved the leash through the wires and gave a quick tug. He took a minute to return, to realize that I was summoning him. He tested his limbs, found he could move, and carefully positioned himself to exit head-first from the kennel. He came out on all fours and I carefully took him to the bed and then helped him to stand again. From there, I unlocked a padlock from the hood. And again. And again. And again. I untied the lace, let fresh air in as the collar parted from his skin. I took the leather from his face, set it aside. I crawled up in the bed, took his hands, and helped him in. His eyes were glazed over, a silly smile on his face. I put him in his spot on the bed, surrounded him with pillows and blankets, and slowly let him return to the world he knew best.

For now, the kennel is a beautiful escape. There is so much potential for play. I want to lock him in, lock him to it, make him watch me while he can’t do a thing. I want to do a day long scene in there. I want elements of humiliation. I want elements of abduction, of forced ownership. I want times of him in a hood and times of him in there without. I’m dying to set it up at a party, where he’s restrained inside, where others can see him but he can’t see them. I have so many ideas, so many feelings I want to evoke inside that cage, but for now I’m happy with the purpose it’s served. This kennel has already proven to be a wonderful toy for us.

Inside

The morning was drawing on. Already the sun had settled into the sky and was peeking through the curtains to see if we were awake. The covers had been folded back and snuggled under again, cast aside for a quick romp and reintroduced for casual comfort. We were close together, words were exchanged less often than kisses, touching was more prevalent than either. There came an urge from within, slow and faint at first, take it or leave it kind of deal. Eventually it was all I could think of though.

One hand against his chest, my body pushed against his side, I wanted him rolled over. I had to wait. I couldn’t just flip him. There was steel between his legs now, just a small piece, just enough to pinch and to pull, to inflict a pain I wasn’t looking for at the moment. I gave him a moment, let him touch my cock, let him adjust, and then he shifted his position so that I could press up against his ass. There were layers of clothes between us. I needed no nudity to do what I wanted to do. He’d been cold. It’d take too long to get him undressed. After I pushed him over, after he turned onto his stomach and slid his arms up over his head, I crawled on top. Slithered right over his back, settled down so that I could press against his ass. I wish I had a toy attached, a strap-on. I wanted to thrust it inside of him, watch him reel, hear him protest and cry, and then fuck him. It was a good thing I didn’t have a toy on.

Despite being covered, I knew what he looked like. I knew his shoulders were uneven. They were probably tense too. I knew the tone of his skin, the freckles on his back. I knew the outline of his biceps, from where he may have been much more muscled when he was younger. I knew how smooth his skin was from touching him all the time. I couldn’t see the scars I adored but I knew they were there. Terrain. The Scarway Express. A hole for me to violate while we were in public — I could jam a finger deep in there and wriggle it around and he could feel it but it didn’t hurt. The right side of his body was always favored because of this. I didn’t need his shirt to be off to know this was all there. This was something I’d missed about him, his tore up body.

At first I was slow, unsure of how I wanted to play. Sometimes it’s quick. I just need to rub against him, get the juices flowing, get it over with, and get off. Sometimes I just want to be on top. I want him to feel my weight on top of him. I want him to know that now he’s a bottom. My bottom. I want him to understand his position with me, and thus his position in life. I need him to discard the ideas of what he’d been, eliminate the options of what he could be. I want him to understand that this is where we should both be and that this will work. I slide my arms underneath his, under his biceps. He’d made a remark to me about how he was stronger and more flexible than I gave him credit for and I scoffed. I don’t underestimate him at all.

I stretched my legs down inside of his own, pushing his legs away from his body. I hook my ankles over his calves, press my toes down by his ankles. I’m comfortable now. My hands snake over the covers to his wrists were my fingers curl around them and rest. He presses his ass up against me. In my head, I know he’s a slut. It had been uttered in the early hours of the morning when in his sleep he’d pressed back against me, the usual position for starting just this. I was too tired then; I’m not any longer.

At first I just graze against his ass. I’m not wet yet. I’m looking to get there though. I enjoy being on top. I enjoy feeling him beneath me. I like hearing the grunts that come from him. He turns his hands around, starts to move his arms. He’s testing me. He wants to see how easily he can break free, if I’ll let him go. The more he struggles, the tighter I hold. As he’s doing this, his body is moving beneath me. He’s rubbing against me. I’m rubbing against him. The struggle fuels something inside of me and I press down against him, let his body press up against me, feel my clit grow hard, feel my panties get wet. This was what I was looking for.

Now his arms try to move forward, back, any way they can. I have a good hold of him though. Instead, he tries moving his legs. I’ve got them locked inside of mine as well. That causes more bucking. I thrust against him. As he squirms around, he presses against me. He doesn’t let up. It’s going to get rough. Not like the time that I pinned him by the back of the neck and had to work from bottom to orgasm with little motivation. It’s going to get rough in that my whole body is going to have to keep him pinned, in that he’s going to keep struggling, that I have to make sure to keep a good hold on his wrists as well as get myself off.

It’s warm in the bedroom. The clothing may have been a mistake, but it may have also been a saving grace. If our skin had been touching, everything would have been much too slippery, the way his wrists were growing damp in my palms. I was turned on. I wanted to claw at him, pin him harder. I wanted to slide inside of him. Be inside of him. I wanted to feel his ass give way to my flesh and blood cock. I wanted to feel the pressure of the muscles trying to keep me out, to feel them relent, to push inside, to force myself deep inside of him. I wanted to hear the sounds he’d made then as he knew that I was going to take what I wanted no matter what. I wanted to feel him buck against that, drive me deeper inside of his body, inside a forbidden entrance. For now, I had to settle with the curve of his ass fitting perfectly against my body, with my clit brushing against the fabric of my panties. I could smell my arousal and his sweat and it was divine and I wanted to breathe nothing more than that for the rest of the day.

Writhing around beneath me, I thrust against him hard. I was still imagining being inside of him where he couldn’t deny me. He could deny his feelings for me, pretend like I hadn’t gotten inside of his head, pretend like I hadn’t made some impact on his life, but in this one act he wouldn’t be able to deny that I had finally gotten inside of him. The more he struggled the more it turned me on the more I had to fight against him. I wanted to create something where he could see that he was safe to rebel, safe to question, safe to fight, but I wouldn’t let him go. My love for him isn’t enough. Caring for him isn’t enough. Ensuring that I am a part of his life always, even when he doesn’t need me around, that wasn’t enough to show him that this is a safe place for him. I wanted to slide inside of him and show him that this was how it was going to be and that if he could just let go, he’d enjoy it. He knew he enjoyed it. He’d done it before. Getting there is always the struggle for him.

Finally, as my palms were sweating, as his body was bucking, I came. I came hard and long and I couldn’t keep it quiet. I wanted him. I wanted him with all of his flaws and his anguish and his love and his hopes and his dreams. I wanted him with all of the personality traits that people loved and all the personality traits that people hated. I wanted everything everyone saw and everything no one else got to see. I wanted all that was right with him and all that was wrong with him and all that is good and all that is bad and I wanted to make sure he knew it. I wanted him to know that he could fight and rebel and struggle and I wasn’t going to go anywhere. I was strong enough to handle everything that he is and everything that he will be and I am strong enough to lead us to where we need to go.

I want to be inside of him the way that he is inside of me. Inside my head, inside my heart, inside my soul. I just need to be inside.

 

Duct Tape and Junk

The week was busy with plans every night. Monday was game night. Tuesday was my usual lesson in cooking with Blake. Wednesday was an educational discussion on Dungeon Etiquette 101. This was not a lesson that I needed in particular but it got me out of the house and junk is rather new to everything so I thought it would be nice to attend something a little more formal to help explain things. I didn’t need to worry about her. Common sense is strong in this one! Thursday was my hair appointment but after that I would have a few hours to kill. Today is the slumber party that I helped arrange to teach any female-identified person who wanted to learn how to do hair and make-up. I have a feeling we’ll be watching some My Little Ponies throughout the night. Chick flicks are scheduled. A new TNG member is supposed to be catering for us with payment being getting to cuddle with all the beautiful girls after he’s done serving us. Saturday night is the annual bash for TNG and we’re trying something a little different: featured scenes. Impact play, high protocol, and puppy play are on the agenda, along with another night of catered food. Sunday is meant for recovery. I’m hoping to sleep more than five hours before going back to work Monday morning.

I’ve been out with junk just about every night since we started hanging out. She accompanies me to all the socials and meetings I want to go to, despite being brand new to the scene. She has dinner with me and even offers to pick me up and just show me her hobbies and business that she runs on the side. It may never translate to a whole lot of play or even that many hours spent together but it turns out we’re quite capable of enjoying ourselves even if we’re just on the couch together watching Star Trek. Thursday could have been spent writing my novel that I’ve fallen behind in or it could have been spent catching up on sleep, but I was really hoping that I could squeeze in a quick scene with her. We’d had one before with paddles and canes and I really enjoyed myself. This time though I wanted to try something different.

Bondage is something that most people I meet have an interest in. I really need to start learning rope. In lieu of rope though, I summon my mighty tools of the trade: saran wrap and duct tape. To date, I’ve only done a partial duct tape mummification with Joey in which I wrapped up his arms, making it look like sleeves, done one night when I wasn’t feeling well enough to provide the scene I had originally planned which probably had something to do with ass play. My last mummification had been with Devin, all saran wrap, tighter than I’d done with Joey. The point of this one was to wrap him up tight and to give him the feeling of bondage whereas with Joey it was trying to wrap him to something so that he would have to strain to break out of it. Each objective was completed to satisfaction and each of them had to be done differently, so I thoroughly enjoyed each challenge. With junk, I just wanted to introduce her to the idea of mummification, give her a taste to see if she’d like it. I normally do this with only saran wrap but the duct tape was so tempting because…

I’d been reflecting on what I would have done differently in Devin’s scene. The questionable bar right above my computer was brought into play so I could tether him to it. For him, he would have preferred if he could have been lying down and I had planned to do that the next time. But a great idea struck me when I was staring up at it one day trying to figure out how to better utilize it: wrists. junk doesn’t have any cuffs yet because I hadn’t committed to the idea of her having an entire set. I use play collars with any play partner, which is definitely what she is at this point, but an entire set of cuffs and collar falls more into protocol and we haven’t reached that point at all. But the idea of wrapping something around her wrists and then looping it over the bar was enticing and so that was what I had planned. I’d run the idea by Devin and he agreed that it would have been better than just being tethered.

After grabbing some dinner and learning that the best punishment for this masochist is making her watch Twilight and chomp at a bit made of licorice, I led her to this corner of my living room and ran my hands down her body. There is something so attractive about her to me that I don’t normally see in others of her body type that I’m always surprised when I can’t keep my hands off her. I think by now she’s probably used to it. I’ve pinched her sides until they’ve bruised a deep plum; I’ve punched her breasts hard enough to leave yellow spots behind. I can’t stop petting her or pulling her hair or touching her face. At the very least, I’ve always got a hand on her, guiding her, claiming her, pulling her to me, pushing her somewhere, letting her know that I’m still there.

I slid my hands between her stomach and her shirt and pushed it up over her chest, pulled it over her head. She was sweet and tried to be helpful in removing her bra but I assured her I knew how to do it — I’ve had plenty of years of practice. I can never resist her nipples when they’re exposed, her sensitive breasts. I want to grab them and shove my fingers into them and bite them. But there was much more to do. Sliding around behind her, I unfastened her belt, pushed her pants down, but left her panties on. There’s something incredibly erotic about watching her soak her panties that always makes me want to keep them on. She also kept her socks on, which I assumed was because she was afraid she would get cold. Then I pulled her over to the bar and positioned her beneath it.

Saran wrap was pulled out and wrapped up each arm individually. They were not restrained together. Instead, I wrapped some silver duct tape around her wrists and looped it over the bar. She would have to stretch a bit to reach. I know, because I have to have a step stool to reach the bar at all and we’re nearly the same height. Her body pulled up like that, stretched taut, was beautiful. I would have spent more time touching her then too but I wanted to make sure I could get the whole wrapping done before the blood left her fingers for good.

The thin plastic cling was wrapped tight around her chest, so tight that she ended up appearing flat chested which amused me greatly. At first she didn’t seem to understand that I was just trying to pull tight — likely trying to be helpful again — and kept moving into me. Eventually we got it sorted out so she would provide some resistance. As I wrapped lower down her torso I ran into a problem I’ve never had before: hips. Because her body isn’t the same rectangular shape as a man’s, I had some trouble getting the cling to go the way I wanted to. Unfortunately this was not a flawless wrap; I tore the saran wrap near the hip bone that I like to gnaw on. I just picked up where I left off though and managed to make my way around her hips and over her small ass. My fingers may have slipped between her thighs for a moment before I positioned her with her legs crossed and pressed together. I was trying to avoid the sloppy bottom problem I had in my last wrapping. I didn’t think her stance was going to be wide enough to try the figure 8 idea I’d had for Devin, so instead I made her my little mermaid.

The cling was completed just above her ankles and I stood back to admire my work. She was beautiful wrapped up like that, preserved, and I touched her through the cling. She was ever responsive, just like I like her. The duct tape taunted me though. It looked so good around her wrists. The last time I tried duct tape I didn’t have nearly enough. But it was a designer color, it didn’t have as much on it. I wasn’t sure I was going to have enough time. I didn’t want to rush this. I wanted to pour my energy into it, wrap everything up around her, let her feel that as her first mummification. I wanted her to know my touch, let her know how much I enjoyed this, how I enjoyed turning her into a beautiful object that stood near my computer, hung from my ceiling, just for me. Before I could put too much more thought into it, I tore the tape away from the roll and pressed it across her chest. I remembered that I had a bad habit of pulling the tape much tighter than need be and relaxed, let it go easy, walked around her, admiring her form as I did. The first few stripes of silver weren’t satisfactory but eventually I got the hang of it, right up until we got to the hips again. There was some doctoring in the end but at the moment I was having fun.

I wrapped around her breasts, around her belly, around her ass, around her thighs. I knelt beside her, my hand upon her leg, and taunted about how this was a beautiful dress and that I ought to send her out in it sometime. Perhaps. It would be extraordinarily fun to try to watch her serve and function with such limited movement. I continued to wrap her thighs together, her knees together, her calves together, and finally her ankles. Then I took a step back to admire my work. Then came the camera. Our favorite hat, the one my cuck bought for me, went atop her head. I think she’s more well-known for wearing it than me, but I’m fine by that. We pulled it down into her eyes to try to shield her face some, but also because it looked adorable that way. I tried to get as many good pictures of the whole thing as I could but really it was her face that I was focusing on.

Finally I put the camera away. A question that Rebecca had asked me was ‘What do you do when they’re all wrapped up? It has to get boring after a while.’ She had a point. What did I do with someone in mummification. With men, I could keep their genitals exposed and perform some CBT. I don’t exactly have that option here. It didn’t matter though. I traced my fingers over her chest and started punching. When she made the faces and sounds I was used to, I knew that I was where I wanted to be. I touched against her bare skin, what little of it she had, and kissed across her neck. I slid up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and sunk my teeth into her shoulder. I pressed kisses against her jaw. I tangled my fingers in her hair, jerked her head back, and planted a kiss on her mouth. I watched her turn floppy, try to wriggle against me, and just generally float around. I spanked her, I flicked her, I touched her to see if she could feel me through that duct tape dress of hers. I knew I was going to have to cut her down soon though.

I stood in front of her and we kissed. We kissed and we kissed. Before her, I didn’t really kiss. The joy of kissing was taught to me by someone special, someone that taught me that there are people who can kiss the way I like to kiss. I’m working on teaching junk the way I like to kiss and she’s adapting well. I let my fingers travel over her bound body. I admired the new curves and twists I created by the way I mummified her. Then, I reached up and snipped the tape that held her to her bar and helped her lower her arms. I moved around to the back of her and slid the cool scissors between her warm skin and the plastic cling. I clipped through the duct tape and blew air on the slick, exposed skin. In time, her entire body was revealed to me again.

From there I took her to the couch. We turned on a television program that any nerd can enjoy and we cuddled. She was curled up against me and before I knew it, I’d found my fingers wandering around her body. Not innocently, not at her hips or her collar bone. Not where I’d normally pinch to leave a bruise for her to admire later. The insides of her thighs. The curve of her ass. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted her. In the end, I didn’t take my pleasure in any form other than hers. She’d been without an orgasm for so long and it looked as though that might change. With my fingers probing her and her rubbing against me, with our mouths meeting for kisses and licks, with the sounds she was making it seemed more likely to happen than not. This time she didn’t rub against me. This time, she showed me the way that she liked to be touched and I watched her eagerly. I was happy to assist. When her pleasure finally came, it was almost as though I could feel the wave of relief wash over her as well.

When she was sent away to wash up, I slipped a present under the blanket she’d been curled under to keep warm. I think she liked it. At the core, she can be a very silly little girl, and that’s something that I absolutely adore about her, it’s something I intend to fuel. For most of the time, she’s busy trying to learn me, trying to learn my rules, trying to learn how to please me, trying to maintain a pleasant disposition, trying to keep everything together. I want to be able to give her moments of selfish happiness, give her the toys that others might think are silly, hold her close and give her some of the comfort that she provides me, return some of the pleasure she grants me, and share the joy of a D/s relationship that couldn’t be done without her at all.

Search Terms

This has to be one of my favorite things about WordPress: search terms. A lot of people that turn up at my journal are using some very fun search terms. Some of the time I feel bad because I doubt I have posts that match what they’re looking for. Sometimes, I just haven’t put that kind of material into a journal post before. I thought maybe I would do a quick post about the things that people are looking for and whether or not they can be found here in my blog.

feminized while tied up – No, I wish. I did have a fantastic fantasy about doing something like this with dil. For each of my pets, I’ve chosen a color that I think goes with them rather well. For him, it was purple. For the last while that we were together, I was rubbing out orgasm after orgasm while thinking about him appearing as a female, bound in purple rope, and gagged. I threw him over the arm of my couch, strapped one on, and went to town on his ass. Unfortunately this fantasy never came to fruition. Someday I plan to enact this with someone though.

fetlife gender queer  - I am on Fetlife, under this name. I am not listed as Gender Queer because I don’t know that I identify strongly enough with that to make that kind of proclamation on a site where there are genuinely gender queer folk that I look up to and respect. Gender Queer is definitely a term I use in describing myself in my blog though, because of the confusion that I’ve had expressing both my feminine and masculine sides.

mummification orgasm – Why would I give them an orgasm? Mummification is great fun though. I have done a few in the recent past. Try clicking the words ‘saran wrap’ or ‘mummification’ in my tag cloud to the immediate right.

“my husband” “i own his cock” chastity – My husband is the one person that I never played with! I did own a cock once upon a time — it belonged to Devin. I did chastity for a while with him as well, and have done chastity with every pet I’ve had, although Devin was the only one I got to put in an actual device. Check back soon for a few tales about Sergie and some long distance chastity, complete with a device!

despite the intense stimulation he knew he would not be permitted to cum – He sure hoped though.

lingerie store humiliation – I did take Joey to a sex shop on our first date (yes, I am that kind of woman). We bought some stockings but I let him come to my house to try them on. On a subsequent visit, I had him take a few skirts into the changing room and try them on. Was he humiliated? Pretty sure he was! These are things that I find pretty ordinary though, so I didn’t think much of it until I saw how red in the face he was when I had to ask a store clerk to open the door for him.

“second+life”+feminization – This one’s fun because I did play in Second Life for quite some time. It’s actually where I met my first pet Lin and my pup Kayn. Lin was feminized to some degree and now, in retrospect, I’m pretty sure we engaged in some little play as well. To me it didn’t seem much like feminization at the time because he was simply so feminine. I think of feminization more like when I take a very masculine person and have them go through the motions of being a woman. That kind of thing with Lin was simply natural. There probably aren’t a lot of stories about that in this blog, but feminization was a very big part of the kinds of relationships I sought and that’s only recently changed.

keeping my boy under chastity – Chastity may very well be my biggest fetish right now. A lot of my fantasies revolve around it. I plan out quite a few scenes that have chastity playing an integral part in it. I got to play around with it for a while and now I’m hooked like crack. I do hope that it can someday be a part of my relationships again but for right now, I’m told I should just let things run their course and see where they take me. (Besides, there’s always Sergie who’s dumb sweet enough to play with me, even long distance!)

Akalashi - This is probably the term that brings the most people to my blog. I like to think that if you know my name, you have some idea of who I am and you’re just trying to stalk me. That’s cool. I like stalkers. But if you’re curious about who I am, want more information, or just want to drop me a line, you can find me on Fetlife or you can just use my email address, listed in my About Me page. Or just leave a comment, let me know that you’re stalking me. That’s awesome too.

As an aside, November is National Novel Writing Month. I’m hoping to participate this year (and succeed!) and so some posts may be slow throughout the month. If anyone reading is also participating, feel free to leave a comment and we can cheer each other on. Go NaNo!

Sadist

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Sadist. When I was younger and didn’t realize what it was I was doing, I had no guilt. Lately, I’ve been discussing my first sexual experiences with new people. According to the lot I speak to, it turns out I’m rather inexperienced for my age and the kind of life I lead. Jaws drop often when they hear the number of people I’ve been intimate with and they think I’m lying when they find out how many people I’ve had intercourse with. Worse than that though, and it may just be the crowd I’m currently entertaining, when they ask me about my very first sexual encounters (and I define these not as the exploring another person’s body to find out what makes them aroused but acts that are specifically meant to lead to intercourse) I can vividly recall pushing my boyfriend to the ground, straddling him, and slipping him inside of me while I poured candle wax (of the wrong variety) down his chest. The pain that he was in is what got me off. Try admitting that during a run-of-the-mill drinking game, eh?

 

At the time, I was fairly certain everyone had sex the way I did. My boyfriend seemed to think it was the most amazing thing in the world (once the burn marks on his chest disappeared that is). He would often gloat in his own private sort of way when someone asked about our sex life. I was open and he was closed. I was loud and domineering and he was quiet and submissive. How this relationship did not work out in the end I will never know. That was just the tip of the iceberg though. After the candle wax to the chest came the mental bondage. Keep your hands here or I’ll stop moving. After that came the pinching and the scratching. Anything to make him uncomfortable. The only game that I play now that never made it into that repertoire was tease and denial. Years later I found out he would have never indulged me anyhow, not unless there was a guaranteed orgasm at the end and if I have to guarantee it, what kind of fun is that? When I first read about chastity, I demanded he play with me. He looked at me as though I’d lost my damn mind. That look never left. I steered clear of it for the longest time, just exploring it with a device for the first time just recently. It was as amazing as I thought it would be.

 

As time went on, I invested in floggers, paddles, canes, and crops. My boyfriend-turned-husband looked at me like I was crazy and informed me that while I may like those kinds of things, he most certainly did not. That was where my first pet came in. He wasn’t much for pain or for service, but he was submissive, pretty, and cross dressed like a pro. That was all I needed for the first time around. The weekend that we spent together revolved around bondage and some spanking, which I was really into back then. I’m sure the people I play with now wish I would regress to being satisfied by just that. My second pet, jhusdhui, was much better about letting me hit him, but he certainly wasn’t any better at taking it. There was squirming and crying and fits and everything. But if I pulled out a toy, he never complained. He assumed the position and even thanked me when I was done. It really was all about pleasing me and that is a quality I so desperately seek in my next pet as well.

 

Those that I talk to now, they’re not interested in the pain. Only one has figured out that it really is the suffering that I’m after, has realized that it builds intimacy for me. I do so love smart, observant boys. Not all of my current partners are kinky. (Gasp! I know, right?! I wonder the same thing.) When we got around to negotiating the terms of our relationship, he questioned if I was even capable of having sex without hurting him. I had to think long and hard about it. I had to think about all the times I’ve had sex in the past, what made the good times good and the bad times bad. Which experiences did I like the most? Which aroused me the most? Why did they arouse me the way they did? It wasn’t about the pain, I concluded. It was about the control. While I might not have to inflict pain upon someone to reach orgasm, I do have to be in control of the encounter. My partner does not have to be my submissive, but he has to be submissive to my wants and needs. In turn, I will take care of him as I see fit, and how I see fit and how he sees fit gets to be negotiated before hand.

 

But that’s just sex. That’s what I’ve concluded. I can have vanilla sex. It won’t mean as much to me as when I get to tie someone up or tease them. It won’t get me off quite like I get off when I can hit them first. I’ll still enjoy myself (I think) but it won’t have the intimacy that I crave from having sex with a pet. That’s not a huge concern for me where I am though. So having separated all of that in my mind, I stepped back to try to figure out what this emptiness inside of me seems to be. It’s not persistent. It’s not eating at me. All I know is that a few weeks ago I was on top of the world and now I’m feeling as though I’m wandering aimlessly again. The loss of control might be some of it. I don’t actually have anyone in a position to be submissive to me for any real duration of time. There are none that I’m so interested in that are begging me to take hold of their leash that I can feel as though I could have the control if I wanted to. That tends to create a void every now and again. This is different.

 

Finally I realized that the problem is that I was introduced to another side of myself that I haven’t been in touch with in nearly a decade. I’m a Sadist, through and through. I get off on watching someone suffer. I like inflicting pain upon those who do not like pain (but consent to it within the predetermined parameters of our relationship) and watching them take it for me, struggle through it, squirm, and fight it. Their acceptance of it is not always relevant. I want them to walk away from the experience feeling good though — if not because they reconciled the pain into pleasure in their mind, because they brought me pleasure through the pain they took. The suffering that I had taken for me most recently was different though. I didn’t get to see him in person. I didn’t get to have all of my words and actions reaffirmed through the look of loss and pain in his colorless eyes. I could only go off of what he told me, what he wrote about, the conversations we had. Every day I seemed to delve deeper and deeper into his mind. I was always at the forefront of his mind. I scared him. I made him panic. I took him to a very dark place and then watched him wallow in his misery. I loved it. His pain was my pleasure and he knew it. There was only that to find solace in, that if he was suffering, I was pleased. It backfired on us though. When I tried to bring him back out of it, show him all the things he could have, tried to resurface him and reconcile fantasy with reality, he couldn’t break free, not on his own. This was the trouble with not being able to look him in the eye, to touch him, to reassure him that I would take care of him. This was where the pleasure of emotional sadism became even more than I could handle. The same way that I don’t get off on seeing a car accident victim writhing on the ground pleading for his life, I don’t get off on someone talking as though I’d ruined their entire life. Eventually it had to end.

 

I got to experience something new though, which is saying a lot for me. I’ve known for almost all of my life that the types of relationships that I enjoy most are mainly mental. I know that I enjoy D/s relationships because they push thought and behavior in directions traditional vanilla relationships don’t go. I’ve known since I was 15 that I had the capacity to get inside certain people’s heads and toy with their emotions. I know to be careful, I know to seek consent in my way, I know how to create scenes in which we can go deep and explore and study those dark, intimate feelings and when to pull back. Rarely does it misfire the way that it did this time, but when it does it does. That’s the trouble with mental domination. In a physical scene, I could have just cut him down, wrapped him up in a blanket, and held him close until he recovered. Here, I have to go through all the steps of building trust all over again. I have to suffer everything I say being questioned, dissected, analyzed. I have to make sure every action and every word match up precisely. I have to ensure that nothing I say can be misconstrued. I have to define everything we talk about so we communicate effectively. It’s worse than being at square one, where there’s good faith trust for someone new you’ve met; I’m at step -1, where I have to tend to hurt feelings, confusion, and clearing my name before I can even go back to step one. Is it really worth it? Can a relationship survive this sort of thing?

 

I know the mistakes that I (and we) made. I know how to handle them in the future. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I do it differently? Probably. Is it something I would be interested in pursuing again? I’m positive. I don’t know that I’ll be able to do it again with the same person; I sure am hoping so, because I haven’t had as much fun playing with someone as I did him in quite some time, but only time (and trust) will tell. What I’ve learned though is that I enjoy the physical and emotional side of Sadism. I am a Sadist, through and through. It’s an exhilarating, lonely existence some days.

Relationship: Kink

How I left out the most obvious requirement for any relationship I enter into, I will never know. I think, perhaps, because I figured that where I seek out my relationships essentially ensures that I will find someone kinky. However, I’ve come to realize that this is not always true. In one case, it was just that they were exploring another side of them. In another, it might just be that they’re scared out of their minds. I’m not sure. Even my newest snuggle buddy is vanilla though. How did this even happen?

 

You attract what you are. They always say opposites attract but I’m feeling less and less that that’s accurate. If it were, I’d have hoards of submissive men throwing themselves at me and I’d be able to pick from them with ease. Now, it may be true that there are enough submissive men offering me their services, but they’re not offering me what I want, which obviously excludes them from my search which makes them completely nonviable which essentially makes it so I don’t even see them. The only logical explanation is that I am vanilla. Yeah, I said it with a straight face, but not for long. I’ve tried claiming to be just that around a couple of people and it just doesn’t fly. Sure, I can do vanilla things. I like to go to the movies. I like to go bowling with Joey. I went on a road trip that didn’t include a chastity device, butt plug, or rope harness under someone’s clothes. All vanilla things. But I, myself, cannot be vanilla. I’ve tried. No really. I tried to be vanilla just like I tried to be submissive and just like I tried to be monogamous.

 

So I’ve been spending more and more time trying to define for me what is kinky. Because when I say I’m vanilla I’m not entirely joking. There is a lot of me that I think is vanilla. The trouble that comes into play there is that what I enjoy the most is relationship dynamics and I guess because I’m a girl that likes to be in control, that makes me kinky by default. If I was a guy that was just a little controlling of his girlfriend, that would be normal. Perhaps even be a way of expressing his care and concern over her. Unfortunately (for so many reasons) I wasn’t born male. The rest of the thought gets eradicated by the fact that I’m not just a little controlling, I am a lot controlling. Within a relationship that’s built on that kind of thing anyhow, not just of anyone random. In fact, I recently met someone that didn’t even know I was dominant, whatever that means, for better or worse. I guess I can’t command an entire room to look at me when I walk in it and I can’t get all the subs to quiver at my feet, but that’s okay, because I’m really only interested in one of them quivering at my feet (okay, or two).

 

In some recent correspondence with someone else though, I asked him if he was interested in D/s, without the kink. So obviously ‘kink’ to me has something to do with toys or props, which is something I generally dislike. But then I spent a night thinking long and hard about how I would feel if I couldn’t flog someone who submitted to me. I had someone in particular in mind, otherwise I wouldn’t have given it a second thought, and since he knows me well enough to understand what I can’t articulate, he said it for me: it’s an act of intimacy for me. Could I go without flogging someone? Sure. Would I always feel as though there was something in our relationship that I could never explore with them? Absolutely. Would it ruin the relationship? I don’t know. It would depend on what role they played for me. Ideally though, I would have someone that would do everything for me. I wonder sometimes if I’m actually poly or if I just can’t find someone who can meet all of my expectations. That’s another post though.

 

So by that definition, of kinky being something having to do with props, I am kinky, whether I want to be or not. I love my floggers, my canes, my crops, my paddles, my clothespins, my toys. I love cuffs and collars and leashes and hoods and cock rings and chastity devices. I love crosses and cages and chains and especially barbed wire. They are not the focal point of what I’m looking for though. I guess that’s the difference for me. So many profiles that I read say ‘I want to do these things specifically’ and for me, I want the mental submission first. If I can have that, you can have everything, because I want everything. Without the submission though, I don’t want to humor anyone with anything else. I’m already doing that, exploring in that fashion, and I know I won’t do it again. I know I won’t do it with anyone else, except to learn a specific skill that I can take home to do with my own personal pet.

 

But more than anything else in the world, I need someone who is in this for life. I need someone who wants to submit and then to play. I want play to be our foreplay, our sex, our intimacy. I don’t want someone that can do one without the other. I put a lot of time and energy and creativity and thought into creating the games that I play with my pets, so that we can have fun, enjoyable, memorable times in our relationships, but as much as I love games, I’ve found the words ‘This is just a game to me‘ absolutely crush my heart. D/s is not a game to me. Ownership is not a game to me. What I need to feel loved and cared for is not a game for me. If it’s a game for them, then they’re not for me, plain and simple. Sometimes it kills me; I’ll fall in love with everything a person is and then find that what they are not is what kills it all.

 

Wrapping Things Up

 

After our last talk about wanting to include higher protocols and how to proceed with these dreams of ours, I felt a very subtle shift occur. It didn’t happen instantaneously but rather throughout the week. We were unable to get together much because he was on call and during those weeks it’s rare that we can actually go out and do anything without imposing on anyone else, so we kept in touch via instant messenger, our first form of communication besides the emails we were exchanging when we were still just two people using CollarMe in attempt to make a connection.

Thursday night his tone was coming across much better, as much as can be told via an instant messenger. Luckily he usually comes across true to himself there. Perhaps a little more adorable and a touch more silly, but all in all it’s the same things I’d expect for him to say if he were right in front of me. Yes Miss and No Miss and May I please Miss peppered the conversation just as they should have been weeks before. Somewhere along the lines they got lost and because I was afraid of putting more stress on my boy, I let them slide. We’ve both realized our mistakes in that.

My biggest fear is that I’ll ask too much of him, he’ll balk, and he’ll run away. This is very reminiscent of my prior relationship, the one with all the D/s overtones in it. I knew in the back of my mind that coddling him was not the answer, but I didn’t want to become a problem. So many times I’ve heard about how a submissive man wants their Domme to be ‘that woman’, the sort of woman that other men wonder why they’re with them, or why they love them, because they seem to be overbearing and controlling. However, in this case, he dated that woman for many years prior to meeting me. He’d already been through that and since he’s now with me, I’m sure it’s easy to see that it didn’t last.

Of course I’m intelligent enough to realize that it was not the same. He didn’t feel loved. He didn’t feel desired. Maybe he didn’t feel as though his efforts were being recognized. Some of this is speculation and a lot of this really doesn’t have much of an effect on the relationship at this point. In the beginning moreso, but now it’s ancient history in my world. I think less and less of the pasts we had without one another and more and more of the future we’re creating together. I know that I’m not the same and at the very base of our relationship is a mutual affection, mutual trust, and mutual respect. We built on top of that, and we communicate regularly. I’m certain that if any of those things change, we’ll let the other know.

So I knew I had to get over that and no one but me could do it. I’ve been working on it. I’d been trying, then stopped trying for a little bit, and then I missed the training. I missed feeling free to ask him to do whatever and expecting to actually have it done. I was tired of allowing things that wouldn’t have slid by if I’d actually enforced my own rules. This was my own mistake. It wasn’t as though he was completely out of line either. It’s not as though every rule we ever made was broken time and time again and I just allowed it. It was just the more subtle parts of our relationship that really fuel the whole thing. Saying ‘Miss’ all the time. Making sure that I eat before he does. Anticipating what I need. Attending to me first, him second. Those sorts of things.

By Friday when he came to my doorstep, I was actually holding my breath. I was wondering if we could actually pull it all together in just a matter of days or if we were going to end up with another night similar to Monday, which is a night I’d rather not ever relive, for various reasons. When I opened the door and saw him smiling, I figured we were in for a good weekend, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Dinner came first. A new rule was being tested. I’ve always wanted to have more control of him, but I want it in limited doses first. The first step in this direction was making sure that he never ate before anyone else, with the exception being if he got a salad and no one else at the table was going to have one. In that case, it was best just to lean over and ask me very quietly if it was alright that he ate. Something else that I’ve wanted to do was to choose his food for him. However, he has particular likes and dislikes and while I know them, I don’t trust myself to always remember them. I don’t mind making him eat something he doesn’t like every now and again, but if we’re going to go out for dinner, I’d rather him actually eat than not. To sort of transition myself, he’s now made to choose three meals he’d enjoy eating and I pick which of the three he’ll have. Sometimes for amusement I feed him from my plate, which typically has plenty of things he doesn’t like on it. There’s something about the way he looks at me, as if to ask if he really has to before he takes a bite that gets me. I love it.

After that it was to Target! I needed some household things. Saran Wrap and duct tape to be exact. I pranced through the store saying those two things over and over, watching him blush. We found some fascinating containers that I think are supposed to go under the bed that looked to be about his size, so I pulled one off the shelf and waited for him to climb in. He got really shy for a moment and then stepped into it, only to find that it wasn’t going to be deep enough. Oh well. We already know he’ll have a cage someday. We just figure we ought to get one for the animal that really needs one first, then for the boy that only dreams of them.

We also picked up pillowcases, just for fun.

When we got home, I decided that I wanted to try this mummification idea that I’d had for a while. It was mostly for play, not really for anything hot or wonderful. I had him strip down and stand in front of me while I saran wrapped his entire body, except his cock, so that I could play with it. From his neck down to his ankles, with his leather restraints on and blue (teal?) duct tape holding it all in place. I let him stand next to the couch. He made a fine sculpture. I especially liked when he got very warm and I could see the slick skin beneath the taut wrap. Additionally, watching his cock leak was very appealing.

After a while of that, I cut a little hole on each side of him and told him that if he could get it off, he could be done. So I watched him squirm and struggle and plead with me playfully to help. I didn’t for a while, but eventually made a few more cuts (including the slightest graze against his leg, which I laughed about a little later on). All in all he did really well and he seemed to enjoy himself.

That night we spent some time in bed, both talking and playing. The bedroom stuff is always fun because while it’s not all that kinky or BDSM’y, I do get to use him for whatever purpose I want. Typically I have him go down on me and I thoroughly enjoy that. Sometimes he’s on top so I can feel him rub against me. We very rarely have sex, which is just the way I like it. Tonight I wanted something a little different for my second, third, whatever number orgasm it was and told him to put on his pink and black skirt. I don’t know what it is about this particular skirt of his, but it gets my blood flowing. It’s so very tight that I can see his cock outlined in the front of it. It’s also very sweet looking though, and is made to be worn with stockings which we will eventually get for him.

Once he climbed back into bed with me, I beckoned him on top of me. Like the sweet little girl he can be though, he positioned himself over one of my legs so he could rub himself against me, or so that I couldn’t feel his cock. He sprinkled very light kisses on my neck and was just so feminine that I couldn’t help myself and stroked up his thigh and over his ass and pulled him onto me so I could rub myself silly.

Saturday morning was a fine morning to sleep in. When we eventually got up, we went to get a very nice lunch and then we watched some television together before he had to go to work, leaving me home to watch my shows and play World of Warcraft by myself. He crawled into bed with me somewhere in the early hours of the morning and we slept right through until lunchtime Sunday.

Finally, it was off to see a puppy agility class! The three of us have decided to get a puppy! Or rather, I decided, j didn’t have a choice, and the two of us convinced my husband that this was a good idea. My husband will never let on that he thinks the puppy is adorable and is surely as excited as we are about his arrival. Surely.

Sunday night brought another burst of quick fun before I headed home for another week of work. We were watching baseball and because we had the absolute worst commentators ever, I decided to spice things up a bit. I opened up the pillowcases we bought, put one over his head, and then used his collar to fasten it on. Then I draped him over ‘the cube’ (which is a footstool) and swatted his ass quite happily with a paddle. For quite some time. With quite a bit of force. We’re finally getting closer and closer to where I want to be in terms of hurting him. We do less warm-ups now, which is something I really like, and I can hit him harder without worrying about breaking him. By the time his ass was nice and red, the game was almost over, so I had him flip over and play with himself for a bit. We removed his ‘hood’ and then he played for a little bit longer and asked me ever so sweetly if we might put a lock on his collar someday.

Someday.

Someday I intend to put some form of permanent collar around his neck and then he won’t have to worry about simple padlocks.

Once home, I smiled a bit as I saw a ton of our furniture stacked up in front of the front door. My husband and I are wrapping up this chapter in our lives, getting out of our house, and moving somewhere that’s more afforadable and in a nicer neighborhood. We’re growing up a bit you see. Instead of taking the traditional route, we’ve opted for slaves and pets and little furchildren. I can’t wait to see what comes next.

 

 

All Wrapped Up

 

 

 

Dripping Cum

Naked

One of my favorite rules that I’ve put in place for j is that when we’re home alone together (and when he’s home alone anytime) he’s to be naked. Oh, years ago I could talk to all my girlfriends about how I appreciate the female form so much more than the male form, how there’s not so much attractive about them, and while I’ll still admit that I find women absolutely beautiful, I’ve come to discover that men can be beautiful as well.

But then there’s something else as well, a conversation my husband and I have had time and again over the decade we’ve been together. We both suscribe to the idea that the more you love someone, the more attractive they are to you. I’m certainly no supermodel, but I have no doubts that my husband finds me attractive. The same goes for my husband, except that a lot of people find him attractive (he just doesn’t realize it) and the same goes for j.

We’ve talked a little about his physical appearance. He has one or two things he’d like to change about himself, but I’m so used to his body and appreciate it as it is that it wouldn’t matter much if he changed it at all. One of the things that we’ve talked about is how he’s not symmetrical, but how it’s hardly noticeable at this point, just because I see him without clothes so much of the time.

The one really fantastically great thing about boys being naked is that their arousal is so evident. I can lose minutes and hours just watching the different forms that the cock can take, from being relaxed to being erect to when it’s suffering from pain or slowing creeping away after an orgasm. It’s almost like cock lust except for not. I don’t necessarily want to be doing anything to it, I just want to watch it.

The other day he was kneeling in front of me and he pushed himself right into my lap and wrapped his arms around me for a hug. I hugged him back for a second but then went to tickle him. I wrapped my legs around his and held him in place so that he could squirm all he wanted but it wouldn’t really stop me. When I let him go and he moved over to grab something, it was obvious to see that he was aroused. I asked if it was the tickling, trying ever so hard to remember if that had been something he’d had on his like list on the profile that I stared at obsessively the first months that I knew him and he just shook his head. Then I remembered his fascination with bondage and asked if it was that I had been holding him, and he nodded.

Later in the night, after we’d gone to bed, we often lay awake (or not so awake) talking and should the urge hit me to have an orgasm before I drift off completely, I’ll typically find some way to use him, either by having him service me orally or by pulling him on top of me and directing him to rub himself against my clit so I can get off. Pretty much anything that doesn’t take too much effort on my part so that I can orgasm and then drift off right away. He’s really good at just curling up at my side and not demanding a thing of me afterwards, so it works out nicely.

Another option though, if I’m in the mood for it, is to just use him. Typically, because I don’t bother to undress for anything like this since it’s just rubbing our bodies together, I roll him over and then I can rub up against his ass. It’s kind of nice to imagine penetrating him and making him squeal, but we’re not far enough along yet that I could slip something up in there without hurting him beyond what either of us would find pleasurable. Plus, it’s a lot of work for pre-sleep orgasm. So I just rub away until I orgasm, he gets to feel something rubbing against his ass, and we call it a night.

The final alternative is for me to actually pin him and rub against his cock, which I’d say happens the least of all these things. It takes some fantastic positioning and again, work. But the position usually requires his arms above his head so that he’s not touching me and I’m always keen on that. This time, I clipped his wrist restraints to the headboard and clipped his ankles together as well, and then just wrapped myself around him as much as I could before I set out for my orgasm. When I was done, he commented that that was the tightest I’d ever held him. I had to agree.

Ever since then, I’ve put more and more thought into bondage. I don’t like the ropes so much, except to just admire the sight of them on his naked body. I like chains but he doesn’t, but his dislike for them isn’t enough to sway me from doing something I’d really enjoy. I just don’t know that I’d enjoy it that much. What usually comes to mind is saran wrap. I like the idea of just wrapping up his whole body, except his cock and his mouth.

Today I went a little further with it. I toyed with the idea of tape. I like it because hey, it hurts coming off too. I also like that it’ll hurt even more if he hasn’t shaved like he’s supposed to. I like that he could struggle against it even more and probably break less of it. I like the way it looks in my head, especially paired with his leather restraints and collar. I like the idea of tape and saran wrap. I worry ridiculously about the ill side effects of saran wrap trapping moisture between it and his skin and making his skin problem worse. I don’t think it’d be a measurable difference in just one session anyhow.

But what really tripped it from idea to arousing for me was pairing it with a hood.

I’ve read that a lot of people find it easier to do objectification if their slave is wearing a hood because then the humanity issue is gone. They’re an object and not a person so much. For me I think it’d help because I put so much stock in his facial expressions. They might not even accurately portray what he’s feeling but for whatever reason, they seem to trump the energy that I’m feeling from him and the sounds that he’s making. I know a ‘I need to breathe now’ sound from a whimper that he has to let out because he’s enduring something for me and enjoying (and also not enjoying) himself while doing it.

Then there’s also just the fact that hoods are hot. I want to play with one just to see what kind of transformation can be made and if it goes well (I don’t know how it wouldn’t) I’d love to upgrade to a leather hood. I know exactly the one I want for him too because I’ve been lusting after it for years.

Finally, since I seemed to leave off on such a sour note in my last entry, and while I certainly don’t take back anything of what I’ve said so far, it needs to be noted that there are plenty of areas in live where I can absolutely regard him as a slave and not just a submissive.

Amusingly enough, as opposite as it may be, he’s a great deal better at doing life tasks for me than the sexual ones that I’d mentioned previously. I cherish those above anything else, being that a slave’s priority in life is to make my life easier. Today he was able to send out a payment that I could not have possibly done in my schedule to ensure and those sorts of things are by far more important than a lot of other things I’ve talked about.

For right now, I’m rather happy where I am. We have a lot of changes coming up in the next two weeks and a lot of excitement. After things settle again, then it’ll be a great time to put into practice these ideas of higher protocols we both seem to enjoy the idea of.

Until then….

Flashbacks

Every now and again I peruse the old forums on the site where I originally met j. I read one this evening where a Domme was feeling as though she couldn’t beat her pet the same way she did back before she was so emotionally attached to her boy. I had the same troubles with Lin, when he and I were some kind of item. The more I liked him the less I wanted to hit him, the more I wanted to coddle him and protect him and make sure he wasn’t hurt. I didn’t understand spankings as a playful sort of thing, only as punishment really.

With j I was the complete opposite. When I first met him, I didn’t want to hurt him at all. I wanted to pet him and I wanted to tell him what to do and I wanted him to open doors for me. I suppose maybe it was because in the first hour or two of our ‘date’ I wasn’t sexually attracted to him. I thought his personality was adorable and I thought he was sweet and I liked the way he interacted with me, but I wasn’t about to hop into bed with him. By the time we were well into the movie and I was playing my game of whether he’d pay more attention to me or the movie, I started to feel something. I liked the fact that he’d let me touch him wherever I wanted. If I touched the inside of his thigh, he’d just move his legs further apart so that I could touch more of whatever it was I wanted. I liked that he never, not once, ever tried to make a move of his own.

By the time the movie was over and I wasn’t ready to go home, I wanted to go for coffee, knowing he’d know a place. We went somewhere new to me and we talked. He talked and I listened mostly. I called my husband to let him know that I’d be out later and not to worry because everything was going great. We were the annoying couple there because everything he said made me laugh. By that time I was attracted to him in a new and different way. Finally, by the end of the night, after sitting in a vacant parking lot and talking and talking and talking, we said good-bye and I didn’t kiss him. I kissed his cheek as he hugged me and told me it all felt like a dream to him.

The following weekend I went to his house and I made him strip in front of me. I spanked him. I think I scared him a little but he rolled with the punches. By then, as I was curled up behind him listening to the soundtrack of what I considered the most perfect night ever, by then I most certainly and without a doubt was sexually attracted to him. I liked his beard. I liked pulling his long hair. He had cute smexy chicken legs. I didn’t like his body hair but it was only around for another week. Mostly though, mostly I liked how willing he was. It’s hard not to be attracted to someone so willing to be everything I wanted him to be.

As I felt I was growing closer to him and as my feelings for him deepened, so did my desire to hurt him. I think I was probably more vicious in the beginning because I was trying to scare him off. I wanted to spank him. I wanted to hit him. I slapped him across the face before either of us had ever discussed it and did actually feel guilty about that later. I’ve used clothespins on him, a crop, a paddle with sandpaper, I’ve used my nails, my teeth, and some very fun toys.

The first time I spanked him, I had him on the bed. He was so nervous though that I opted against it. Another time I had him over my lap and I was hardly spanking him at all before he was wriggling all over the place and not handling it well at all. I didn’t think he’d ever be a good outlet for whatever sadism I have stored up in me. Now I have him asking if he can be spanked. Now I actually feel as though I’m not fulfilling his need for pain. I used to pinch the insides of his arms so bad they’d be bruised for days and I loved it, until someone pointed them out to him. Now that he’s wearing short sleeves again, I don’t feel so inclined to do it. The insides of his thighs might fall victim to it soon enough though.

We talk about bondage a lot too. That was one of his interests independent of me. I think I could get into it if there was anything in it for me. If I could tie him up and then use his face maybe. I have a great fantasy that involves wrapping all but his boyish bits in saran wrap and then using him as my fuck toy. Of course I like the idea of having some over his mouth but the poor dear has to breathe. I love when he struggles for breath, like when I cover his mouth and block his nose with my hand. I love how I can feel him gasping for air in the palm of my hand, like I hold his life right there too.

Sometimes I think I don’t make a very good Sadist, but the truth of the matter is, when I stop worrying about hurting him and not knowing what to do for him after, I do have rather violent fantasies. The last time I was bringing myself to orgasm, I was thinking of beating his ass black and blue. I can still orgasm without fail anytime I think about cutting him and watching the lines of blood ooze down his back. I think I love that most because I know he’d hate it. I don’t know how he’d handle it. I’d love to tie him up and bruise him up.

In short, the more I love him, the closer I feel to him, the more I want to hurt him, the worse I want to hurt him, and I’m the only one holding me back. Hopefully I can get to work on that sometime soon.

A Weekend To Remember

Technically they’re all weekends to remember, but this one was especially exciting to me. This weekend I got to sample a little bit of all the things I really, really like: bondage, puppy play, and feminization. Those aren’t the only things I like, obviously, but those are right up there with ice cream and dancing in the rain.

Actually, the weekend started with a bit of shopping. My husband, my boy, and I were staring at cameras, trying to decide which of them was going to be the best bang for my buck. I was trying to find one that would be easy for me to use and have all the features that I needed (essentially it needs to take its own pictures and turn out like I know what I’m doing). I figured buying it right away on Saturday morning would give me plenty of time to check out all of its features and give me a practice subject for two days! Excellent thinking, really.

After that kind of shopping was done and my husband went on his merry way, my boy and I decided to do a little shopping for the two of us. It landed us splat in the middle of PetsMart looking at collars and leashes. We had a fantastic time trying to figure out what kind of dog each of those collars was made for. We also had a fantastic time snickering about him having to pick one out for himself while another woman was in the aisle. Alright, alright, I was snickering and he was trying to hide his blushing cheeks. One collar, one leash, one squeaky toy, one tag, and three jingly bells later, we were in the car headed for home.

I kept things very brief for the first adventure into petland. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t use his hands, couldn’t walk, couldn’t do anything a pup couldn’t do. Except that he likes/knows/feels more like a cat, so the first time it was very much about a kitten. Or a very confused dog. He played fetch with his squeak toy, got some pettings, and was just generally very cute. Since it only lasted about twenty minutes, there’s not a whole lot to report about it. I wish I’d taken pictures, but I felt that was more of a private ordeal. Another day, I’m sure.

The feminization that we did wasn’t quite as elaborate. Essentially he has very feminine traits and he has some femininity in his personality. I thoroughly enjoy these things about him and so I like to accentuate them. Or at least encourage them. Something that I’d been tossing around in my head was letting him wear make-up. He could certainly never pass as a female, no matter what, but that wasn’t the point of it either. I had him put my make-up on me so I could explain to him what I’d be doing to him, and then I put it on him. He’s got really nice long lashes so the mascara was beautiful on him. The tones I use for myself also blended in perfectly with his skin so unless someone was intentionally looking for shimmer on his eyelids, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed. Then we went shopping. This weekend really was about shopping. I don’t know who I’m trying to kid.

Somewhere inbetween these two events was the activity that took place that I really want to talk about. I’ve never really had a mental hard-on for bondage, not in the way that most people do I think, because I’ve always believed that if I told someone to stay, they had better stay. They shouldn’t need to be restrained to comply. It’s not really about the struggle or the suffering when it comes to bondage, not for me anyhow. To me, it’s all about the aesthetics. That leaves what I use for bondage slightly limited.

Since I had my camera and I just so happened to have electrical tape, I figured I might as well see if I couldn’t find myself something to take a picture of. The blindfold goes on first, because it helps him get into the right frame of mind. Then it was just a single circle of tape around his wrists and around his ankles. I placed another piece of tape over his cock, taping it to his belly. I put x’s over his nipples. I put one strip of tape over his lips, but it certainly wouldn’t have kept him from talking if he really wanted to.

A few weekends prior to this one we’d played and I’d told him to hold the bars of the frame of his bed behind his head. I loved the way his fingers curled around it. I loved how he held onto it just because I said to. There was an impression made on my mind from that sight alone and try as I did to convey it in words, my words failed me. This weekend I could finally take a picture of it, show it to him, and let him see him through my eyes. It worked fantastically.

Once I was done taking my pictures, I settled myself atop him, the boy that was still nude and taped up, and turned the camera so he could see the pictures I took. He seemed to nod. He didn’t look away like I thought he might. He didn’t seem as in lust with the pictures of himself as I had been, but he got there. And we both agreed that we loved the pictures of his hands.

Aside from all the wonderful activities that went along with this weekend, we also did a lot of talking. We discussed writing a contract. He said a few things to me that really made an impact that I’ll write about after I’m back on the right sleep schedule and not so mentally exhausted.