I started a poll on Mar 10, 2008 (see How Did Your FLR Begin? and the sidebar). In it I expressed my guess that an overwhelming percentage of FLRs were started and advocated by the male in the relationship.
Although we are not far enough into the results, there is an indication that I was correct to a large extent, but not as much as I thought.
I thank those of you who voted. I would like to ask you for one more thing. Please leave a comment here explaining how your FLR began, or ended. Even if you run across this post months from now, the comments will be instructive to readers.
All of your comments are welcome. I am especially interested in comments from dominant females, and anyone where the relationship began as an FLR, or where it was started or advocated by the woman. And my fellow submissive men, don’t be shy.
So, let’s hear your stories!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Rapids Ahead
My Sweetheart has been ill since she returned from her short vacation with her friends. She has been struggling with sore throat and chest and head congestion for some days. It draws her energy and attention from the good things that she likes to do. Yesterday we decided that she would visit her doctor.
It is a little after midnight as I am writing this. I was awakened by her coughing behind the closed doors of our bathroom. I suggested getting the vaporizer for her, and closing the window against the dry wind that was pleasant for me, but may have aggravated her problems.
Our son’s escrow is supposed to close tomorrow. With a lot of signatures that he needs to provide another thing came up, and he missed his planned appointment. You all might have thought that we are the most well adjusted family. We are, actually, but some major things come up occasionally. He has had the same girl friend for about four years now. She and he have been living in our house sort of like married people. She is a lovely woman, responsible, who is struggling with what life had dealt to her. Our son has similar problems, which is why they got together and supported each other. Well, nothing is perfect. Even in my vast experience and wisdom I might not be able to handle some of the problems that they face. They have had a series of bad periods culminating in a scenario that is close to impossible to make right. The decision was made for them to split. I feel bad about it, I feel sorry about their inability to handle these. I miss her already. Still, MW and I felt lately that this was inevitable.
Bad timing. With the beautiful house that our son is about to buy, this is a devastating blow. Then he has some issues with his job that came on suddenly. We remain supportive, but just want to say that we have a few distracting problems.
It is a little after midnight as I am writing this. I was awakened by her coughing behind the closed doors of our bathroom. I suggested getting the vaporizer for her, and closing the window against the dry wind that was pleasant for me, but may have aggravated her problems.
Our son’s escrow is supposed to close tomorrow. With a lot of signatures that he needs to provide another thing came up, and he missed his planned appointment. You all might have thought that we are the most well adjusted family. We are, actually, but some major things come up occasionally. He has had the same girl friend for about four years now. She and he have been living in our house sort of like married people. She is a lovely woman, responsible, who is struggling with what life had dealt to her. Our son has similar problems, which is why they got together and supported each other. Well, nothing is perfect. Even in my vast experience and wisdom I might not be able to handle some of the problems that they face. They have had a series of bad periods culminating in a scenario that is close to impossible to make right. The decision was made for them to split. I feel bad about it, I feel sorry about their inability to handle these. I miss her already. Still, MW and I felt lately that this was inevitable.
Bad timing. With the beautiful house that our son is about to buy, this is a devastating blow. Then he has some issues with his job that came on suddenly. We remain supportive, but just want to say that we have a few distracting problems.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Man Ice
We are experiencing technical difficulties that have nothing to do with FLR. For your amusement, I include something that I find fascinating.
This is a fantasy. It has not happened to the extent that I relate here. Some of it did, and all of it could, given our situation.
Getting What I Wish. Maybe
I have been bitching about not getting enough sex. You know, the old “I could cum any number of times, and still be ready to serve you anyway,” whine coming from me. I think that at some point Mistress had enough.
We were sitting in the playroom while I uttered my last stupid remark. With a look on her face that could kill, she walked out. I sat there trying to decide whether I should apologize or remain quiet.
I was saved from the decision. She returned in a few minutes and sat down facing me. “I will let you have your way. It is a generosity on my part, so remember that.”
She held a plastic cup in her hand. It was one of those sturdy screw-top tapered cups that will hold liquid even when tipped. “Your first assignment is to get your load into this cup without spilling a drop. If you can do that, we will continue. Drop your pants, and do what it takes to get your juice into this cup.”
This was definitely not what I expected. She looked like she really meant it, so I chose not to argue. On the other hand, I was very much embarrassed by the idea. Was I expected to whip out my cock and masturbate in front of her? And catch the proceeds in the cup? What about afterward? Do I stand there like a fool with my cock in one hand and a cup in the other? What was the plan?
I felt like I really got myself into trouble this time. I was aware that, as a last resort, I could refuse. But that would negate some years of relationship, and was not really an option this time. She did not look like she was about to change her mind. As embarrassed as I felt, I took the cup, and answered: “Yes Mistress.” I sealed my fate.
She leaned back in her chair and put on a smile that was, I am sure, meant to make me feel even more of a worm that I felt to be. “What are you waiting for?”
“Your approval, Mistress.”
“You have it. Now do it!”
I dropped my pants and stepped out of them. After laying them aside, I pulled off my shorts, and put them aside also. With a stupid tee shirt on I began to fondle my cock while thinking of my predicament. After a while I realized that the situation was not that bad. I will get my rocks off, save the proceeds in the cup, and give it to her. After all, I was wired to do all that and more. Seeing her sitting there relaxed after she ordered me to do this had kind of a turn-on effect. Yeah! I was on the way. Thinking of her pussy it did not take long for me to get really close to orgasm.
“I want you to think of me when you cum. Think of my ordering you to do this, and that you have no choice but to obey.”
“Yes Mistress.”
In a second I shot my wad into the cup. The feeling was not near as good as I have when she lets me cum inside her, but it was better than the nothing that I have been experiencing. When I settled down I stood there like the fool that I am. Cup in one hand, cock in the other.
“Put the lid on the cup and leave it on the table. You may then clean up your parts.”
I did. When I returned the cup was gone. She was sitting with a glass of wine in hand, another on the table apparently for me. “I have put away your semen for later use. Since you have insisted that you want it daily, I decided to give it to you. We will repeat the procedure tomorrow. For now you are on your own. Have a drink.”
“Thank you Mistress. You are very kind.”
“Wait and see, boy.”
The next day had us in the bedroom when she said, “Bring me wine. And, find the cup in the freezer, and bring that too.”
I went to the kitchen to get her wine, and put in on a silver tray. In the freezer I found the plastic cup with the screwed on lid inside a plastic bag. I removed them, and put the cup on the tray also. Once in the bedroom she said, “You know the procedure. Don’t spill a drop. When done, put the lid on. Proceed!”
There I was again, this time naked. I realized that thing that I wished to experience, getting my jollies at least once a day, have materialized. I was not about to complain, but I did feel a little put out. After all, this was very artificial. There was no personal involvement except by me. Still, I thought that it was better than nothing. Plus, Mistress had ordered me to do it, which was not something that I can ignore or refuse. I took the cup, removed the lid, and began to stroke my parts. It took longer this time. Something was missing. She must have realized it, for she spoke, “Think that you are doing this for me. Think that you must cum to prove that I turn you on.”
I worked at it, and after a few minutes I produced the desired outcome. “The lid,” she pointed to the table.
I put the lid on, and returned to the kitchen to store the cup. On the way back I cleaned up the drips, and faced her in the bedroom.
“How do you feel? Have you been getting enough lately?”
The only proper answer from me could be, “I feel great Mistress. And yes, I am getting enough.” The rest of the evening was uneventful.
The next day we did our usual things. Near noon she summoned me into the playroom and announced, “I want you to be here at noon every day, and wait for me. You will be naked, and have no reading material or anything that would distract you from your anticipation of my arrival. We will have your daily orgasm here for a while. Now fetch my wine and your cup”
I did. I was again standing before her with cup and cock in hand. She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile, and said, “Proceed.”
I started as before. After about ten minutes we both realized that the project was not going as planned. I could not get a hard on. Weird, I know, but it was just not working. All along I was trying to find the reason, but none came. Here I was before a powerful female who was making me do things that I would not do on my own. She was sexy, attractive, and I loved her. Yet, I could not get it up! What the hell was wrong here?
“I see that you need some help, boy. Stop your self-abuse for now. Bring me tit clamps and some rope.”
I put down the cup, went to gather the material, and then presented them to her. She got up and applied the clamps to my tits. Ouch! She then ordered me to be on my knees. She put the cup on the floor before me, and then tied the rope from my neck to my ankles. Although my hands were free, I was not in a position to move far. My tits began to hurt real bad.
“Continue your attempt at orgasm,” she ordered.
I did. With my position, and my tits hurting like that, it did not take much time to sport a tremendous hard on, and subsequent orgasm into the cup. She was generous enough to remove the rope when she said, “Put the cup into the freezer, then return.”
My tits still hurting, I did her bidding. Upon my return she released the tits.
The next few days were variations on the previous theme. On the tenth day even the tit clamps were not able to produce the desired effect. She ordered me to lie on my front on the bed in the bedroom, and wait for her. I did. Some hours later she came in, and without explanation began to whip my ass with a riding crop. It hurt a lot. I did not enjoy it. But she kept going long. After she stopped, she rolled me on my back, and saddled my face. With her pussy on my mouth I almost orgasmed. It was a redemption from all the pain and more. She allowed me to enjoy her gift, but stopped before I could do anything serious. She then told me, “Bring the cup. I want you to do it without my help this time. If you fail, I will whip you until you bleed.”
I brought the cup, I did the self-gratification while thinking of her, and what she had and what she could do to me. I did add a significant amount to the cup’s contents.
On day fourteen of our new regime she announce, “Today you don’t get the pleasure of an orgasm. Today you will pleasure me. After that, we will think of something.”
In the evening we did the usual leg and foot massage, then she alerted me to the fact that she was expecting much pleasure. I knew what that could involve, and got instant hard on thinking of it. We settled in bed and I did the requisite fingernail massage that lead to kissing and licking of thighs which in turn culminate in oral worship. Oh My! It did. She was totally wasted. She could not stand even nearness of my lips after that.
After period of reflection she sent me to get the cup. Upon my return she said, “Hold the cup in your hand until the contents become loose. Keep checking. Once loose, pop the contents into your mouth, and suck it like an ice cube.”
I sort of knew that this was coming. I held the cup in my hand, imparting warmth to it in order to loosen the contents. I sat there as she watched me, so I did not want to make negative comments or to make unappreciative facial remarks. Yet I knew that in a minute or so, I will have to pop a mancube into my mouth, and enjoy it. Maybe.
“Test it,” she ordered.
I gently squeezed the bottom of the cup, and the contents moved. She saw it.
“Remove the lid, and shake the contents into your mouth.”
I did.
“Suck on it like an ice cube.”
I did, and tried not to change my facial expression. The frozen mass was barely accommodated by the cavity of my mouth. The flavor was slow to be recognized as the icy contents began to melt.
“How do you like it, boy?”
With the rather large frozen mass in my mouth I had a hard time formulating my words, but managed to say, “Not my favorite, Mistress.” The actual flavor is impossible to describe. I had tasted my cum before, and this was not the same. Perhaps it was the fact that my last orgasm was about twenty-four hours ago. Or maybe the freezing process had changed the flavor and consistency.
I sat and began to swallow the melted components. In a few minutes my mouth was empty. She asked, “How did you like it?”
“Liking it is not exactly a word that I would use. Tolerating is maybe more appropriate. It was not as bad as when you had me consume my stuff immediately after I produced it.”
“What if what you just had, was not from your cock? What if it was from another man? Would that change your appreciation of it?”
Oh my! Could she be that devious? “I don’t know, Mistress. Maybe you have a way to determine that.”
“We will begin another sequence of this as soon as I am ready. As for another man’s seed, I will let you know if or when it is real. Meanwhile, you will have to guess.”
I did, and then I did not want to think that the cup contained another man’s seed. The problem was that I did not know. It might have been better to be there to know for sure. But then, would I really want to consume another men’s seed? Am I being cuckolded?
It remains to be seen.
This is a fantasy. It has not happened to the extent that I relate here. Some of it did, and all of it could, given our situation.
Getting What I Wish. Maybe
I have been bitching about not getting enough sex. You know, the old “I could cum any number of times, and still be ready to serve you anyway,” whine coming from me. I think that at some point Mistress had enough.
We were sitting in the playroom while I uttered my last stupid remark. With a look on her face that could kill, she walked out. I sat there trying to decide whether I should apologize or remain quiet.
I was saved from the decision. She returned in a few minutes and sat down facing me. “I will let you have your way. It is a generosity on my part, so remember that.”
She held a plastic cup in her hand. It was one of those sturdy screw-top tapered cups that will hold liquid even when tipped. “Your first assignment is to get your load into this cup without spilling a drop. If you can do that, we will continue. Drop your pants, and do what it takes to get your juice into this cup.”
This was definitely not what I expected. She looked like she really meant it, so I chose not to argue. On the other hand, I was very much embarrassed by the idea. Was I expected to whip out my cock and masturbate in front of her? And catch the proceeds in the cup? What about afterward? Do I stand there like a fool with my cock in one hand and a cup in the other? What was the plan?
I felt like I really got myself into trouble this time. I was aware that, as a last resort, I could refuse. But that would negate some years of relationship, and was not really an option this time. She did not look like she was about to change her mind. As embarrassed as I felt, I took the cup, and answered: “Yes Mistress.” I sealed my fate.
She leaned back in her chair and put on a smile that was, I am sure, meant to make me feel even more of a worm that I felt to be. “What are you waiting for?”
“Your approval, Mistress.”
“You have it. Now do it!”
I dropped my pants and stepped out of them. After laying them aside, I pulled off my shorts, and put them aside also. With a stupid tee shirt on I began to fondle my cock while thinking of my predicament. After a while I realized that the situation was not that bad. I will get my rocks off, save the proceeds in the cup, and give it to her. After all, I was wired to do all that and more. Seeing her sitting there relaxed after she ordered me to do this had kind of a turn-on effect. Yeah! I was on the way. Thinking of her pussy it did not take long for me to get really close to orgasm.
“I want you to think of me when you cum. Think of my ordering you to do this, and that you have no choice but to obey.”
“Yes Mistress.”
In a second I shot my wad into the cup. The feeling was not near as good as I have when she lets me cum inside her, but it was better than the nothing that I have been experiencing. When I settled down I stood there like the fool that I am. Cup in one hand, cock in the other.
“Put the lid on the cup and leave it on the table. You may then clean up your parts.”
I did. When I returned the cup was gone. She was sitting with a glass of wine in hand, another on the table apparently for me. “I have put away your semen for later use. Since you have insisted that you want it daily, I decided to give it to you. We will repeat the procedure tomorrow. For now you are on your own. Have a drink.”
“Thank you Mistress. You are very kind.”
“Wait and see, boy.”
The next day had us in the bedroom when she said, “Bring me wine. And, find the cup in the freezer, and bring that too.”
I went to the kitchen to get her wine, and put in on a silver tray. In the freezer I found the plastic cup with the screwed on lid inside a plastic bag. I removed them, and put the cup on the tray also. Once in the bedroom she said, “You know the procedure. Don’t spill a drop. When done, put the lid on. Proceed!”
There I was again, this time naked. I realized that thing that I wished to experience, getting my jollies at least once a day, have materialized. I was not about to complain, but I did feel a little put out. After all, this was very artificial. There was no personal involvement except by me. Still, I thought that it was better than nothing. Plus, Mistress had ordered me to do it, which was not something that I can ignore or refuse. I took the cup, removed the lid, and began to stroke my parts. It took longer this time. Something was missing. She must have realized it, for she spoke, “Think that you are doing this for me. Think that you must cum to prove that I turn you on.”
I worked at it, and after a few minutes I produced the desired outcome. “The lid,” she pointed to the table.
I put the lid on, and returned to the kitchen to store the cup. On the way back I cleaned up the drips, and faced her in the bedroom.
“How do you feel? Have you been getting enough lately?”
The only proper answer from me could be, “I feel great Mistress. And yes, I am getting enough.” The rest of the evening was uneventful.
The next day we did our usual things. Near noon she summoned me into the playroom and announced, “I want you to be here at noon every day, and wait for me. You will be naked, and have no reading material or anything that would distract you from your anticipation of my arrival. We will have your daily orgasm here for a while. Now fetch my wine and your cup”
I did. I was again standing before her with cup and cock in hand. She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile, and said, “Proceed.”
I started as before. After about ten minutes we both realized that the project was not going as planned. I could not get a hard on. Weird, I know, but it was just not working. All along I was trying to find the reason, but none came. Here I was before a powerful female who was making me do things that I would not do on my own. She was sexy, attractive, and I loved her. Yet, I could not get it up! What the hell was wrong here?
“I see that you need some help, boy. Stop your self-abuse for now. Bring me tit clamps and some rope.”
I put down the cup, went to gather the material, and then presented them to her. She got up and applied the clamps to my tits. Ouch! She then ordered me to be on my knees. She put the cup on the floor before me, and then tied the rope from my neck to my ankles. Although my hands were free, I was not in a position to move far. My tits began to hurt real bad.
“Continue your attempt at orgasm,” she ordered.
I did. With my position, and my tits hurting like that, it did not take much time to sport a tremendous hard on, and subsequent orgasm into the cup. She was generous enough to remove the rope when she said, “Put the cup into the freezer, then return.”
My tits still hurting, I did her bidding. Upon my return she released the tits.
The next few days were variations on the previous theme. On the tenth day even the tit clamps were not able to produce the desired effect. She ordered me to lie on my front on the bed in the bedroom, and wait for her. I did. Some hours later she came in, and without explanation began to whip my ass with a riding crop. It hurt a lot. I did not enjoy it. But she kept going long. After she stopped, she rolled me on my back, and saddled my face. With her pussy on my mouth I almost orgasmed. It was a redemption from all the pain and more. She allowed me to enjoy her gift, but stopped before I could do anything serious. She then told me, “Bring the cup. I want you to do it without my help this time. If you fail, I will whip you until you bleed.”
I brought the cup, I did the self-gratification while thinking of her, and what she had and what she could do to me. I did add a significant amount to the cup’s contents.
On day fourteen of our new regime she announce, “Today you don’t get the pleasure of an orgasm. Today you will pleasure me. After that, we will think of something.”
In the evening we did the usual leg and foot massage, then she alerted me to the fact that she was expecting much pleasure. I knew what that could involve, and got instant hard on thinking of it. We settled in bed and I did the requisite fingernail massage that lead to kissing and licking of thighs which in turn culminate in oral worship. Oh My! It did. She was totally wasted. She could not stand even nearness of my lips after that.
After period of reflection she sent me to get the cup. Upon my return she said, “Hold the cup in your hand until the contents become loose. Keep checking. Once loose, pop the contents into your mouth, and suck it like an ice cube.”
I sort of knew that this was coming. I held the cup in my hand, imparting warmth to it in order to loosen the contents. I sat there as she watched me, so I did not want to make negative comments or to make unappreciative facial remarks. Yet I knew that in a minute or so, I will have to pop a mancube into my mouth, and enjoy it. Maybe.
“Test it,” she ordered.
I gently squeezed the bottom of the cup, and the contents moved. She saw it.
“Remove the lid, and shake the contents into your mouth.”
I did.
“Suck on it like an ice cube.”
I did, and tried not to change my facial expression. The frozen mass was barely accommodated by the cavity of my mouth. The flavor was slow to be recognized as the icy contents began to melt.
“How do you like it, boy?”
With the rather large frozen mass in my mouth I had a hard time formulating my words, but managed to say, “Not my favorite, Mistress.” The actual flavor is impossible to describe. I had tasted my cum before, and this was not the same. Perhaps it was the fact that my last orgasm was about twenty-four hours ago. Or maybe the freezing process had changed the flavor and consistency.
I sat and began to swallow the melted components. In a few minutes my mouth was empty. She asked, “How did you like it?”
“Liking it is not exactly a word that I would use. Tolerating is maybe more appropriate. It was not as bad as when you had me consume my stuff immediately after I produced it.”
“What if what you just had, was not from your cock? What if it was from another man? Would that change your appreciation of it?”
Oh my! Could she be that devious? “I don’t know, Mistress. Maybe you have a way to determine that.”
“We will begin another sequence of this as soon as I am ready. As for another man’s seed, I will let you know if or when it is real. Meanwhile, you will have to guess.”
I did, and then I did not want to think that the cup contained another man’s seed. The problem was that I did not know. It might have been better to be there to know for sure. But then, would I really want to consume another men’s seed? Am I being cuckolded?
It remains to be seen.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
She Is Back
After a week of working my ass off on stuff that broke, I was looking forward to having MW back so that I could take a day off. Having spent seven hours on installing a water heater that should have taken two hours, I was a bit testy. Then I had to go out and be present when the home inspector did his thing on my son’s about-to-be-bought house.
Around 4 o’clock I was heading for home when I ran into a roadblock due to an earlier crash. I doubled back, and took a detour of about eight miles to get to where I was going in the first place.
At home I had a drink, fixed a Spartan dinner, and read a book for a while. MW called at 6:30 or so, ready to be picked up at her friend’s house. It was after nine when we returned home. I unloaded her stuff. She was sick with a throat problem, exhibiting fever with her on/off need of warmth. We were both keyed up after the day, so we watched part of an old movie until she was ready to sleep.
This morning I did my chores and settled with the computer until she summoned me. I was expected to put those pesky cats outside because they were bothering her. I did.
A couple of hours later I went to see whether she was all right. She was feeling better. I made coffee and we spent a nice hour or so on the front deck enjoying the fine morning with one or our cats, and the dogs. We talked of the possibility that she would have naps to recuperate, so I did not make the bed.
While she was gone I dismantled her computer as preparation to install a new motherboard and power supply that would make the computer much more powerful. Well, stuff happens, and it did not work. This morning I offered her the use of the laptop while I tried to restore the old computer. She was still dragging her beautiful butt, and was barely there as far as computer usage was concerned. She did ask, “Have you made the bed?”
“No, I kind of assumed that you would be napping on and off.”
“If I do, it will be on top of an already made bed.”
Well, that certainly set me straight. I made the bed, and returned to computer restoration while she kept giving me orders about configuring the laptop so that it works right. I fixed the laptop, but the old computer still did not boot. I wiggled and jiggled all the loose thingies, but still no luck. I may have to have a couple of drinks, and then sleep on it before I make the sucker work again. Of course, tomorrow I will be back on hard labor, so the computer work will have to wait until afternoon.
Around 4 o’clock I was heading for home when I ran into a roadblock due to an earlier crash. I doubled back, and took a detour of about eight miles to get to where I was going in the first place.
At home I had a drink, fixed a Spartan dinner, and read a book for a while. MW called at 6:30 or so, ready to be picked up at her friend’s house. It was after nine when we returned home. I unloaded her stuff. She was sick with a throat problem, exhibiting fever with her on/off need of warmth. We were both keyed up after the day, so we watched part of an old movie until she was ready to sleep.
This morning I did my chores and settled with the computer until she summoned me. I was expected to put those pesky cats outside because they were bothering her. I did.
A couple of hours later I went to see whether she was all right. She was feeling better. I made coffee and we spent a nice hour or so on the front deck enjoying the fine morning with one or our cats, and the dogs. We talked of the possibility that she would have naps to recuperate, so I did not make the bed.
While she was gone I dismantled her computer as preparation to install a new motherboard and power supply that would make the computer much more powerful. Well, stuff happens, and it did not work. This morning I offered her the use of the laptop while I tried to restore the old computer. She was still dragging her beautiful butt, and was barely there as far as computer usage was concerned. She did ask, “Have you made the bed?”
“No, I kind of assumed that you would be napping on and off.”
“If I do, it will be on top of an already made bed.”
Well, that certainly set me straight. I made the bed, and returned to computer restoration while she kept giving me orders about configuring the laptop so that it works right. I fixed the laptop, but the old computer still did not boot. I wiggled and jiggled all the loose thingies, but still no luck. I may have to have a couple of drinks, and then sleep on it before I make the sucker work again. Of course, tomorrow I will be back on hard labor, so the computer work will have to wait until afternoon.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Mistress Wife Going Away For A Few Days
MW is planning to leave on Sunday on a trip with two of her friends. The purpose is for each of them to get away from pressing problems for a few days, and to enjoy the things that they can do together in a relaxed setting. To me it means that I will drive her to her friend’s house, load their baggage into the friend’s car, and return home to take care of the daily chores that I normally handle. I will also have to assume responsibility for her personal pets and plants that require daily attention.
Aside from that she gave me two more instructions: don’t do anything dangerous, and put a lock on the little guy every night. The dangerous part is easy to understand, but hard to implement. I can make anything be dangerous, and I have scars to prove it. I guess that she was more concerned about doing things that are a “danger to life and limb.” But I did ask her to clarify the second request. If I were to follow her order, and put a lock on the little guy each night, I would end up with about six locks hanging on the poor fellow on the day that she would return. Besides, I don’t have six locks. She amended the order by saying that I am allowed to remove the single lock each morning. I could comply with that.
On Saturday morning after our coffee and cuddle she told me that she was expecting a full body fingernail massage in the evening, and that I was to remind her in case she forgot or tried to talk me out of it. I don’t see how I could force her, but I agreed. The mentioned massage most often leads to her being served orally and experiencing several orgasms. Obviously, I was awaiting the evening with great anticipation of the wonders of her charms.
On her orders I stayed busy most of the day. I did my hard labor in the morning, then did some maintenance on data backup on my computer. Late in the afternoon I did some catching up with some blogs. The day went quickly and without my falling off any high objects even though I was challenged. The scaffolds are still up, and I am using them.
In the evening I went to shower, and settled down to read while it was her turn in the shower. She joined me in bed, which was my cue to begin either the leg-and-foot massage or the full body massage. Because the former entails the application of lotion to her parts, and neither of us really want me to lick and suck lotion, I asked her which to do first. She understood the reason, and directed me to do the fingernail massage. It seemed that all was proceeding as planned.
The fingernail massage is not a well known technique. We developed it independently of others just to please her. It consists of running my fingertips over her skin. My nails are trimmed short, so there is no danger of damage to her. I can press hard, or skim lightly as I wish in order to vary the stimulus. I can scratch with one nail, or gently pull four-fingers’ worth across her skin.
I began with the front of her shoulder, and arm, then down the center of her chest, sides, and so on. I have written about this before. Each time the procedure is similar, but there is no set sequence to follow. It is a time of closeness and joy. She is experiencing pleasure, and I am joyful for being there to provide it. After having gone over her front she was about to flip over to give me access to her back. But before that, she said, “Bring me the clamps.”
We have several sets of these inexpensive but effective devices. They have been acquired over the years from various stores. It is second nature to us when running across one in the store to test one on one finger, and if it has potential, we buy a pair for later use. I often add a chain to connect the pair. The chain makes it easy for her to do pull on both clips, to yank them off simultaneously if she chooses. The chain also makes it easy to keep the two from getting mixed up with other toys.
There was a set from time a few weeks back on my night stand.
I fetched it and gave it to her. As expected, I kneeled next to her presenting my tits for the application of the devices. I think that she is thrilled by the knowledge of causing this kind of erotic pain to me. She is very good at pinching an inch of skin with my tit in the center, and affixing the clip without any attempt at being gentle. I like that perverted and planned approach.
If there are any of you who have not experienced this, and are curious, you should try it. I suppose that you could affix the clamp yourself, and feel the pain. But, in a way, it is like trying to tickle yourself. It is best when your mistress does it to you. Besides, if you do it to yourself, you take it off when you think that the pain is no longer fun. If your mistress does it, you keep it on until she takes it off. There is a tremendous difference in the range of feelings.
She did both of my tits. Each time the harsh pain hit me instantly, and lingered for a few seconds. It always takes my breath away. I think that it has to do with the close connection my tits have with my mind. I mean, I could be hurt worse at some other part of my body, and not take it that way.
In a short time the tit pain abated to a manageable level. I had the feeling of pressure, and imposed over that, a burning sensation around the edges where the device touched my skin.
She turned over onto her front, and I proceeded with the massage. After a few minutes the tit pain dulled, yet it kept my mind on my situation as I was doing my duty to MW.
Working on her back I explored all those lovely dimples and bumps. It is difficult to decide whether the front or the back of a woman is more attractive. It may depend on the woman, or my perception. It also changes. With MW, it changes. First it is the tits, then the thighs, then the dimples on her butt, then … you know. It’s one thing, then it’s another. Anyway, I was working on her dimples when she decided to turn over again. You should know what this means: her front side would be up! I was not going to try to stop her. She flipped, and I faced her pubic area.
“Lick my thighs!” she said.
That was very specific. I knew exactly what to do with her order.
Parting Gift
When presented with such thighs any man who is into the appreciation of female parts would have no choice but to comply. Kissing her thighs is a pleasure compared to none. The texture and softness of her skin is the epitome of femininity. The closeness of her pubic area, the center of my being, makes me weak. Her scents, being ready for pleasure, enhance my already rampant libido. I am ready to serve her. I do. We connect.
I first gently part her lips with my tongue working from below toward the top. I take time to make sure that lubrication is provided by our mingling juices. I make tentative touches to her clitoris to give a hint of what is coming. I take pleasure in her lips, French kissing them until it is time to move on to specific targets. Her sweet little bud is erect, trying to get my attention. I would love to move in and suck, but I must be careful. She is powerful, but she is also little. She deserves respect. She expects attention. She also demands proper treatment.
As we know, magic must be controlled. MW is holding the boys as I am applying my magic. She has succeeded in perfecting the control. With the proper pull in the desired direction, I take the cue from the boys and apply the same to her clit. It is very much like a human pantograph with my tongue at the business end. She has two shattering orgasms before she pulls me away.
“You could have used your fingers to work my G-spot,” she adds after a while.
I feel sad for missing another opportunity to pleasure my mistress. I have some things to learn. I get off the bed and walk around to my side. “I will never wash my face again,” I say smiling.
She knows how much I love her scent. She just smiles and turns off the light.
Three Is More To Come
On Sunday morning we again had our close time. I tried to avoid pressuring her, knowing that she was already stressed about her trip. I was about to leave and work on our breakfast when she said, “I really should be on top.”
I get weak in the knees when hearing that. Luckily, I was on my back, so it did not matter. In a short time she was on top. That happens to be my favorite position with her. I get to bury my face between her generous breasts. I can use both hands to feel her all over. I feel her weight on me. I smell her skin. I taste her essence.
Then again, any position is my favorite with her. We played for a while like that until she began to pull me over to the inverted position. We ended up with me on top.
We are not really trying to prove or do justice to female superiority here. She likes to be on the bottom because it gives her hands a chance to do some very sexy, somewhat mean, but only sensually painful things to me. As you can guess, that is just fine with me. She can, and does do things with the boys. But what usually gets my attention is her messing with my ON/OFF switches. She did, and I lost control. She knew exactly what she was doing, so I don’t blame myself. We stayed in position for a few minutes enjoying the afterglow. When it was over I was already thinking, Will she have me do it this time?
It was not to be this time. She did not have me clean up after myself, although that is still in my future.
A Short Morning
I had breakfast while she did some things on her computer. I did a couple of hours of work before it was time to load the luggage. She planned to take only two items. As always, she ended up with more, six to be specific. All was loaded into the back of the vehicle. We headed down into the valley to join her friends. She commented that there will be no one to do an “April fool’s” joke on me. She related some endearing events from her past of how her mother played the trick on her father. I think MW was trying to relax.
At her friend’s place we did the usual full body hugs all around. Some conversation later I volunteered to put everybody’s luggage into the other vehicle which one of them was to drive. More hugs later I left for home.
Aside from that she gave me two more instructions: don’t do anything dangerous, and put a lock on the little guy every night. The dangerous part is easy to understand, but hard to implement. I can make anything be dangerous, and I have scars to prove it. I guess that she was more concerned about doing things that are a “danger to life and limb.” But I did ask her to clarify the second request. If I were to follow her order, and put a lock on the little guy each night, I would end up with about six locks hanging on the poor fellow on the day that she would return. Besides, I don’t have six locks. She amended the order by saying that I am allowed to remove the single lock each morning. I could comply with that.
On Saturday morning after our coffee and cuddle she told me that she was expecting a full body fingernail massage in the evening, and that I was to remind her in case she forgot or tried to talk me out of it. I don’t see how I could force her, but I agreed. The mentioned massage most often leads to her being served orally and experiencing several orgasms. Obviously, I was awaiting the evening with great anticipation of the wonders of her charms.
On her orders I stayed busy most of the day. I did my hard labor in the morning, then did some maintenance on data backup on my computer. Late in the afternoon I did some catching up with some blogs. The day went quickly and without my falling off any high objects even though I was challenged. The scaffolds are still up, and I am using them.
In the evening I went to shower, and settled down to read while it was her turn in the shower. She joined me in bed, which was my cue to begin either the leg-and-foot massage or the full body massage. Because the former entails the application of lotion to her parts, and neither of us really want me to lick and suck lotion, I asked her which to do first. She understood the reason, and directed me to do the fingernail massage. It seemed that all was proceeding as planned.
The fingernail massage is not a well known technique. We developed it independently of others just to please her. It consists of running my fingertips over her skin. My nails are trimmed short, so there is no danger of damage to her. I can press hard, or skim lightly as I wish in order to vary the stimulus. I can scratch with one nail, or gently pull four-fingers’ worth across her skin.
I began with the front of her shoulder, and arm, then down the center of her chest, sides, and so on. I have written about this before. Each time the procedure is similar, but there is no set sequence to follow. It is a time of closeness and joy. She is experiencing pleasure, and I am joyful for being there to provide it. After having gone over her front she was about to flip over to give me access to her back. But before that, she said, “Bring me the clamps.”
We have several sets of these inexpensive but effective devices. They have been acquired over the years from various stores. It is second nature to us when running across one in the store to test one on one finger, and if it has potential, we buy a pair for later use. I often add a chain to connect the pair. The chain makes it easy for her to do pull on both clips, to yank them off simultaneously if she chooses. The chain also makes it easy to keep the two from getting mixed up with other toys.
There was a set from time a few weeks back on my night stand.
I fetched it and gave it to her. As expected, I kneeled next to her presenting my tits for the application of the devices. I think that she is thrilled by the knowledge of causing this kind of erotic pain to me. She is very good at pinching an inch of skin with my tit in the center, and affixing the clip without any attempt at being gentle. I like that perverted and planned approach.If there are any of you who have not experienced this, and are curious, you should try it. I suppose that you could affix the clamp yourself, and feel the pain. But, in a way, it is like trying to tickle yourself. It is best when your mistress does it to you. Besides, if you do it to yourself, you take it off when you think that the pain is no longer fun. If your mistress does it, you keep it on until she takes it off. There is a tremendous difference in the range of feelings.
She did both of my tits. Each time the harsh pain hit me instantly, and lingered for a few seconds. It always takes my breath away. I think that it has to do with the close connection my tits have with my mind. I mean, I could be hurt worse at some other part of my body, and not take it that way.
In a short time the tit pain abated to a manageable level. I had the feeling of pressure, and imposed over that, a burning sensation around the edges where the device touched my skin.
She turned over onto her front, and I proceeded with the massage. After a few minutes the tit pain dulled, yet it kept my mind on my situation as I was doing my duty to MW.
Working on her back I explored all those lovely dimples and bumps. It is difficult to decide whether the front or the back of a woman is more attractive. It may depend on the woman, or my perception. It also changes. With MW, it changes. First it is the tits, then the thighs, then the dimples on her butt, then … you know. It’s one thing, then it’s another. Anyway, I was working on her dimples when she decided to turn over again. You should know what this means: her front side would be up! I was not going to try to stop her. She flipped, and I faced her pubic area.
“Lick my thighs!” she said.
That was very specific. I knew exactly what to do with her order.
Parting Gift
When presented with such thighs any man who is into the appreciation of female parts would have no choice but to comply. Kissing her thighs is a pleasure compared to none. The texture and softness of her skin is the epitome of femininity. The closeness of her pubic area, the center of my being, makes me weak. Her scents, being ready for pleasure, enhance my already rampant libido. I am ready to serve her. I do. We connect.
I first gently part her lips with my tongue working from below toward the top. I take time to make sure that lubrication is provided by our mingling juices. I make tentative touches to her clitoris to give a hint of what is coming. I take pleasure in her lips, French kissing them until it is time to move on to specific targets. Her sweet little bud is erect, trying to get my attention. I would love to move in and suck, but I must be careful. She is powerful, but she is also little. She deserves respect. She expects attention. She also demands proper treatment.
As we know, magic must be controlled. MW is holding the boys as I am applying my magic. She has succeeded in perfecting the control. With the proper pull in the desired direction, I take the cue from the boys and apply the same to her clit. It is very much like a human pantograph with my tongue at the business end. She has two shattering orgasms before she pulls me away.
“You could have used your fingers to work my G-spot,” she adds after a while.
I feel sad for missing another opportunity to pleasure my mistress. I have some things to learn. I get off the bed and walk around to my side. “I will never wash my face again,” I say smiling.
She knows how much I love her scent. She just smiles and turns off the light.
Three Is More To Come
On Sunday morning we again had our close time. I tried to avoid pressuring her, knowing that she was already stressed about her trip. I was about to leave and work on our breakfast when she said, “I really should be on top.”
I get weak in the knees when hearing that. Luckily, I was on my back, so it did not matter. In a short time she was on top. That happens to be my favorite position with her. I get to bury my face between her generous breasts. I can use both hands to feel her all over. I feel her weight on me. I smell her skin. I taste her essence.
Then again, any position is my favorite with her. We played for a while like that until she began to pull me over to the inverted position. We ended up with me on top.
We are not really trying to prove or do justice to female superiority here. She likes to be on the bottom because it gives her hands a chance to do some very sexy, somewhat mean, but only sensually painful things to me. As you can guess, that is just fine with me. She can, and does do things with the boys. But what usually gets my attention is her messing with my ON/OFF switches. She did, and I lost control. She knew exactly what she was doing, so I don’t blame myself. We stayed in position for a few minutes enjoying the afterglow. When it was over I was already thinking, Will she have me do it this time?
It was not to be this time. She did not have me clean up after myself, although that is still in my future.
A Short Morning
I had breakfast while she did some things on her computer. I did a couple of hours of work before it was time to load the luggage. She planned to take only two items. As always, she ended up with more, six to be specific. All was loaded into the back of the vehicle. We headed down into the valley to join her friends. She commented that there will be no one to do an “April fool’s” joke on me. She related some endearing events from her past of how her mother played the trick on her father. I think MW was trying to relax.
At her friend’s place we did the usual full body hugs all around. Some conversation later I volunteered to put everybody’s luggage into the other vehicle which one of them was to drive. More hugs later I left for home.
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