String

There’s a whole ball of string that came unraveled over the past couple of weeks. As it was happening, I wanted an outlet. I needed to talk about it. Luckily, I had several close friends who decided to weigh in on the situation. Most of them were not impressed. Most were not happy about the decisions that were made. In the end, the choice was mine and mine alone and I did what my heart told me to do and that was the best I could do and is the best that I can do and at this moment I feel as though I’ve made the right choice and am following that particular path and hope to continue to walk that path for some time.

The issue at hand stemmed from a lie. That’s been discussed to death though, at least between the two people that matter. We talked about why it happened, how it made us feel, how we can prevent it from happening in the future, what we expect to get out of the apology, what forgiveness is and is not, what expectations lie ahead of us now that we’ve moved on, and it’s pretty much a done deal. No, it wasn’t a good thing to do. No, it should never be repeated. Yes, he needs to trust me more. Yes, he needs to give me a chance to give my own individual response. No, it wouldn’t have been fair for him to just walk away. Yes, I would have forgiven him regardless. No, forgiveness doesn’t equal the continuation of a relationship. Yes, I can stand to see him again.

For days and a week after the incident I had more and more questions. Once the initial shock was over, I had more specific questions. The why and the how and the psychology behind it. What else had happened? I was ready to know. But the point was that it was done and over. After the apology was issued, then there were more problems. I didn’t handle it ‘correctly’. There was an outburst over the public nature of his apology. It didn’t seem ‘sincere’. Although to me it was sincere, because he’d been apologizing for days. He knew what he’d done. He knew what risks he’d taken. He knew he wanted to do whatever he could to set things right with me again. Not for the sake of being with me, but for the sake of just not hurting me again.

So we continued with our original plans. A lunch. A date. Time spent together. The more time we spend together, the easier it gets. The jabs are fewer and further between. We both understand that to forgive is not the same as to forget. Trust has to be rebuilt. We spend the time together to know each other, so we don’t make the same assumptions over and over again.

Somewhere in there, something shifted. Something changed. The work he’d been doing internally started to show. It didn’t shine so bright that one weekend, but the next it was better and after that was best. I’d invited him to a party. He’d been to one with me before. We were supposed to play but he backed out at the last moment. Mostly, he just attended. He could play with me in the hotel room but not where other people could see us. He was ashamed to submit to me.

Hours into this party, as the demo was taking place, he told me he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. As soon as he said it, I shut down. I closed him out. The affectionate touches that we’d been sharing all night, all week, they were done. I was working on building the walls again. There was only so much I could take. I couldn’t handle being around someone that was ashamed to be with me, to be seen with me, someone that couldn’t handle others knowing that he was choosing to surrender to me. I walked away. I spoke with others. Eventually the demo ended and it was time to play, only my play partner wasn’t game. Or so I thought.

We took a moment to exchange words; I needed to know what he was going to do with himself while I continued with the other scenes I had hoped to have that evening. He said he didn’t want to go back on his word and he’d given his word that he was going to play with me tonight. I asked him if he was certain he wanted to do that and started to explain the scene so that he knew what to expect. We pulled out his toys, walked to the room, and his scene began.

I got him laced and strapped into his hood. The four locks went on. The Rook tied him up and we turned him around to face the wall. The violet wand was plugged in and the chastity device was where everyone could see it. There were onlookers in the hallway, surely scoping out this different kind of scene. This is how we played. There was no impact play. There was rope, which is often prevalent in our parties, but it wasn’t the primary focus of the event. But then the energy of the scene behind us got to him and he wasn’t going to be able to drop like he normally did. We cut the scene short, got him out. He apologized once, twice, for not being able to do exactly what I wanted him to do, but it didn’t matter. I was proud anyhow.

After a little time out of the hood, we walked around the party. There were medical restraints, something we were both interested in. I got him in a straight jacket, a leather muzzle, and ankle restraints. We weren’t sure about the muzzle until it was tight enough that he couldn’t talk. He wasn’t sure about being able to see, but when he realized the potential to be mobile, follow me around like that, he seemed to like it more. We had a clash of desires for a moment. I wanted to see what the Rook was up to and was going to leave him behind but he said he wanted to see too. So I told him he could come with me and he protested, not like that! So I removed all of his restraints. Later, he told me he wished I’d made him. I told him we were too new into this for me to assume that kind of control. I wished I could have, wished I didn’t feel I had to ask permission, but I’d rather go it slow and do it right than to fuck it all up again.

I took him home and put him in his hood. We spent time naked together, cuddling, fucking. We woke up to one another. We spent more time together naked. More time fucking. Some time talking while we cuddled. The morning drew on into the afternoon and we needed lunch. We spent a lot of time talking about the connection between us, how we were always drawn back to one another. He talked about how he felt that he was owned, even when he wasn’t with me. How the only thing he could think to call me, the only thing that felt right, was ‘Master’. I spoke of how I hated turning him loose, but how I knew he had to learn for himself that this was where he belonged. I hated that I couldn’t protect his heart for him but that it had to be broken in order for it to heal, in order for it to be given away. And then I showed him how easily I could hold his heart in my hands and he agreed in silence that I did, in fact, possess his heart.

Each night that we spend together we spend touching. We spend talking. We make plans for days ahead of where we live now. We make plans for the near future and I don’t question if we’ll make it that far. We don’t talk about what we are to one another, other than important. Right now it doesn’t matter if he’s my sub, my bottom, or my slave. Right now it doesn’t matter if we want  just a bit of this lifestyle to spice things up or if we’d like to go all the way. He’s afraid he could go to extremes and I’m hopeful that he can, but wouldn’t let us go too far. I’d keep things realistic. Sometimes it seems so ordinary, to just be wrapped up in him, to just want to touch another person, to show them exactly who I am. Each day we spend together, I feel what was once a single golden thread keeping us connected strengthening, encircling another, until eventually it will be a cable that cannot be cut. It’s frightening and exhilarating.

The damage between us has been repaired. We’re working on building a solid foundation. Eventually, sometime in the future, I hope he can rebuild with our friends again as well. I hope that he can get on level ground with the Rook, with Junk. I hope that we can all be together, care about one another. I suspect it will take some time though. Not everyone can forgive as easily as another. Not everyone has the capacity to put such things behind them as quickly as I can. Not everyone can see the magic that’s working inside of him right now and that’s fine. I don’t expect that everyone can see the sparkle in his eye or the way that he carries himself differently. They can’t feel the change in his touch. They don’t understand the look in his eye. They could never know the significance between grey and green and sapphire and crystalline blue in his eyes. Those are things I know, things that I study, things that I see. As long as I see them, believe in him, I like to think he can continue to grow.

That is the gift that I share readily with those closest to me in my life. With devin, with Junk, with the Rook — I want to see them grow and develop and take on challenges and succeed. I want to see them love and be loved. I want to see them struggle and triumph. I want to see them recognize their strengths and weaknesses and find partners that complement them. I want to build a life and a future and hope with each of them. I want to harbor happiness within us all. I want for every person to know the peace, the joy, that I’ve felt over the past while, all because I’ve found the right people for me.

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.

An Experiment In Chastity Revisited

Talk of chastity had subsided for a while. The device was not fitting correctly, things were too intense, and nothing was working out the way that he had planned. He jumped in too quickly, wanted his fetish fulfilled, and was uncertain about everything else that went with it. In the end we both learned some very important things, primarily that to him chastity equaled Ownership. It was all or nothing. That’s how we’ve always played this game.

A couple of months had passed. We were going out weekly, enjoying our time together, talking and examining the kinds of relationships people could have, that we could have. On the last night I had him over he was distant. I couldn’t get close to him emotionally or physically. I’d seen it coming but it still didn’t make things much easier when he stared me in the eye and told me he didn’t think he was submissive. I told him it didn’t matter. One part of me was scoffing at him and the other was sad to see him quit. We both knew he had to explore, that there were other lessons he needed to learn, and that was the last I saw of him.

I admit that for a bit I was jealous. Not that he had chosen someone other than me, but because the new relationship was so public. Everyone knew who he was dating, what they were doing together. They were going to huge events. They were playing in public. These were all the things that I couldn’t have, because in some way or another I was a secret. Or he was ashamed of the relationship that we had developed. The first couple of mornings after were rough. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep in touch. There were so many things that were left unsaid, unresolved. At the bottom of my heart, I knew that he would eventually be back, but I had no idea when. I couldn’t cling to that though, I couldn’t just wait because it could be years before he returned.

After a few weeks passed, our conversations were still short but they had substance to them again. He had a question here or there about how I thought something in the lifestyle should be done and I felt as though we were done walking on eggshells. I didn’t care that he went off to date someone else; I only cared that I felt I was being shut out of his life. I knew that it was going to happen because he identifies as monogamous but it felt like a door slamming on the greatest opportunity the universe had ever given me and I couldn’t figure out why this one was being taken away. The great Miss Chris told me that I just needed to let it go, the same as she told me when I met him that I needed to just jump right in, and so I listened. I let him go, I let the ideas I had associated with him go, and I let the energy that we had shared between us go, so that I could learn and appreciate this new side of him, a side that I wouldn’t see otherwise.

Conversations were sporadic but I appreciated them. I started asking about how he was doing things in his new relationship, since we were able to relate to one another on another level now. He got to make the decisions, he got to set up the scenes, he got to watch another squirm and wriggle and beg him for things. I believed he could do it and be successful — I believe that he can do anything he sets his mind to. A few weeks later, our conversations grew long again. Where they’d been stopping early in the morning, they were continuing to wind through the late afternoon and sometimes even in the evenings. The talks turned from what he was doing to thinking about chastity. The tides had turned.

Sunday was the day that he dug into his toy bag and removed the chastity device. He told me about the modifications he’d done to it, the sanding that he’d done. He wore it for the night and reported to me in the morning that it was going much better than before. It wasn’t cutting into him like it had before. The pain in the nights wasn’t as atrocious as it had been when we were playing with it before. This was something that he was still curious about. I joked about the chastity carousel that we were jumping onto. That evening, we looked at devices together. Which one was best. Which did I like? He’d left his key at work so that he couldn’t break free that night — but he wanted to. He talked about wanting to try chastity again and I told him that if he was serious, he would talk about the piercing that would allow the device of our dreams to be locked onto his body.

Tuesday was worse. Not as bad as anything that we’d done together, but by the time he got home, key in hand, he was ready to remove and release. I thought he’d been doing a fantastic job so far and didn’t see a reason for him to stop. I thought he should push it further. He told me that he had no reason to keep himself locked up and I told him that he should just put the key away, put it out of sight. Then he told me the key was there for the taking. I contemplated. I considered having him just mail it to me! Eventually, I just gave him the address of my friend’s house and told him to bring it to me…and he did.

I hadn’t seen him in so long. I opened the door and froze for a moment. It wasn’t that I had forgotten what he looked like or how he made me feel, but it all washed over me again when I saw his face. His hair was cut short. His eyes had color. That smile. He came in, helped us make egg nog, and we stood around like awkward teenagers not sure if we should hug or kiss or just fuck right there on the floor. As he removed his coat, he slipped the key into my hand. We had arranged for a play scene on Saturday. I imagined he was going to remain locked until then. We both knew that getting the key back from me was going to be a feat though. He knew it before he handed it to me. I knew it as soon as I had it in the palm of my hand. I had him once before. We’d talked about how if I’d just been able to keep him in a device he would have been my slave. He didn’t say it in jest, or to taunt me, but because that was how he felt about chastity.

That evening we talked. We talked about his relationship, about what he was doing now, about how he felt about chastity, about what we were going to do Saturday. He couldn’t stay long, so a lot of it was done via text later on. He admitted he knew he wasn’t going to get the key back. This time around, chastity wasn’t about the fetish. This time around, he was in it for good. Ownership. That’s where we were headed. He had asked me if he should assume that if I were to own him, that I would want to own him until his dying day. I told him yes and asked him if it scared or comforted him and he said both.

Friday morning I told him we should consider a contract. We’d talked about it in the past. Part of it was arousing to him when we’d talked about it before, because it was getting him to sign something over to someone else — almost like an abduction of sorts. I wanted a contract so we could define our relationship better. We’ve never really done it and I wanted to know what he considered to be Ownership. I know what it is to me. At first he balked. A contract is a binding agreement between two people. He hadn’t been looking for a lifetime relationship. He hadn’t ever considered getting married again and to him this is the lifestyle equivalent. What he said though was that in the end, he was my slave now, and he would sign anything that I told him to. The work for that has started with personal research, thinking about what needs to go into it, and by declaring the four veto rules for the contract that we both agreed upon.

Saturday was our do-or-die day. This was our play day. I had mummification in mind because we had tried it before and he really liked it but I had ways to improve on it. Like restraining his hands above his head to the random bar I have in my kitchen. We’d considered the idea of having him lie down so he could float for a good long time. A hair dryer and duct tape were other tools I wanted to include in the scene. He had to come over early so that I could unlock the metal padlock and replace it with a plastic lock. Upon his return, he was relocked with my lock, my key hanging around my neck again. We needed to do some shopping and then we needed to make a call to see if we had time to get a scene in. When the information returned that the place was busy and there might be a wait, all thoughts of play were put on hold.

One hour. I unlocked him from his chastity device and told him that he had one hour to have an orgasm. If he couldn’t, then he couldn’t, and that would be that. We tried for a while but the pressure was too much. It wasn’t going to happen. I can’t say I was too disappointed. He got himself cleaned up, we packed up, and then we headed out. On the drive, he asked me why this was so important to me. I told him it was because it symbolized Ownership. I asked him why he was so scared of it and he told me it was because it symbolized Ownership. In the parking lot, he asked me if there was anything he could say or do that would make me change my mind. I suppose in actuality the answer would have been for him to run away. Again. If he left after everything now, there’d be no reason to come back. There’d be no reason to own him because I would always wonder what it would take for him to feel secure enough to just stay put. I told him no though, because I don’t think like that. I don’t think about the next time he’ll run away. I don’t think he’s too cowardly to go through with something after he’s given his word. I got out of the car and he stayed. I watched him as he collected himself and then together we went in.

I supervised as he read over the paper and had to sign his name. At one point he had to verify that he was having this done of his own volition and his pen hung above the space where he was supposed to initial and his gaze fell on me. I was the primary reason for us being there, that much was true, but I reminded him that he knew I would do this if he returned and he came back to me willingly. So he lowered the pen and initialed and finished the paper in no time. There was hardly time to process what was happening before we were taken back to the sanitized room. For the second time in a week, he ended up naked from the waist down in front of a complete stranger. He settled himself onto the ‘bed’ and held his hands against his chest. When she told him how the procedure was going to go, and asked him not to jerk or to hit her, I took one of his hands. As the needle went through the head of my cock, he squeezed my hand. Hard. I wanted to watch the needle go in but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. The look of pain was exquisite. Then…just like that, it was done and over with. We were out the door.

I did it just for you.

And for you, I reminded him, because chastity was something we shared an interest in. Without the piercing, we wouldn’t be able to use the device that we wanted. By the time it arrives, he’ll be healed enough that we can put it on. That will be another hurdle for him to overcome I’m certain. The fact that a steel device will be locked onto his body, the key given to me, another step on our journey — I can’t wait.

In the meanwhile though, we had new toys to play with. He had just ordered a new hood, one he had asked my advice on. This one was thicker and better than the one he’d been playing with in the past. It was also a little scarier with all the straps across it and only one little breath hole over his mouth. We picked up some different lacing for it and talked a bit about putting him in it. He’d tried Friday morning to play with it a bit and felt panicked putting it on. It’s much easier with two people and we found that with the way the padding is around the mouth, it forces his mouth open so he has to breathe through it.

The other toy that he’d purchased for himself that I was most apprehensive about working was a kennel. It wasn’t the type with a door on top for easy access and I think we were both a little wary of his shoulders fitting through the door. After a quick set up, he crawled right in. With a pillow and a blanket, he had plenty of room to turn around, lie down, and be on all fours.

The final toy that he had to play with was actually his Christmas present from me: a locking cock ring. When we had done chastity before, we blamed the lapse in his mindset to the fact that he couldn’t be locked up for the entire time (because of circumstances beyond my control and because we really should have waited). This time we were a little afraid that without something restricting him, he would lapse again. The steel through the head of my cock might not be enough. I thought this was a good compromise as it would leave him open to clean my cock as he should with a new piercing but it would still lock something on him so that he had that feeling of Ownership, of control, of bondage. We can’t use it quite yet, but it will come into play soon. We also have a new cock cage coming in the mail that should be open enough for cleaning and allow room for the piercing.

The evening was filled with play, from hoods and touching to hoods and kennels and no touching, to impact play so we could gauge just how much pain he could take. After, we turned in, curled up together, and fell asleep. When I woke, it took me a moment to realize where I was, and as soon as I did I was touching him, kissing him, teasing him. I rolled him over, crawled on top of him, and gave myself an orgasm. Then he made us breakfast.

As I sat next to him at the table, looking over into his living room, watching his dog on the sofa, I smiled at him. I told him of all the places that I thought I would be on Christmas, I had never imagined it would be with him. He admitted the same. This time was supposed to be spent with someone else. He’d taken time off work to take a vacation with her. But here we were together, over breakfast, with my cock returned to me and pierced this time, with a contract in the works, with his public declaration of our relationship, with his cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. We spent Christmas morning together as Owner and slave and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.

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