Sunday, August 31, 2008

The End Of Her Vacation

Midweek while she was with her friends we had some family business to conclude, so we agreed that I would drive to her resort and pick her up on the way to the meeting. I did. But there was a prerequisite. When we parted a few days ago she said,

“Next time we meet the little guy and the boys will be shaved, and you will be wearing Kali.”

“For that I would have to remove Kali at least once. Do you agree?”

“You may do what is necessary.”

Well, that was some days ago, and I did. I cut the plastic securing band and was worried about the swelling under the collar. There was a set of neatly regular puncture marks, but the extent was superficial. In any case, I gave the Little Guy time to recuperate. Yesterday I did the required shaving. Today was the day of the meeting. After taking care of chores at home I showered, and re-installed the Kali’s Teeth Bracelet. I did get a thrill knowing that I was following her orders. I drove to the resort and we spent an hour sipping coffee and talking. Afterward I drove us to the meeting to conclude our business.

After the meeting she wanted to buy the steaks that I was to barbecue for her and her friends on the last day of their stay. We found a grocery store and I fetched a shopping cart, then I followed her through the store. She wore a mid-calf skirt with a tailored blouse that allowed a hint of her curves from breasts to her hips. I was just reading the sway of her hips with frequent glances at her calves when she said, “I hope you like to watch my legs.” Either she was reading my mind or I was being too obvious.

After shopping we returned to her condo. Her two friends were there in a very relaxed stage of undress, and were happy to see me again with the, by now, routine hugs and kisses. My little guy responded as we greeted one another. We spent some time talking, and then I had to leave for still another appointment at the far end of town.

Before I left, MW wanted to see whether I complied with her request. In the Mistress bathroom she had me drop my pants and shorts. She was satisfied, and I was allowed to go. I could tell that she had missed me.

On my way out I was again confronted by the more aggressive of her friends, Laura, claiming that she did not get her last hug due. I remembered otherwise, but what the hell. I suggested, “You should do your hugging and kissing every half hour just to be sure that you don’t miss your due.” I think that she would if she could get away with it. Alas, MW is in charge, and she has other ideas about “just plain fun,” and might not agree.

I am at home now. Kali is still reminding me of my position, but extreme pain is not an issue until the wee hours of the morning to come.

I am looking forward to joining MW and her friends on the last day of their stay. Plans include my barbecuing some excellent steaks, applying lotion to many feet, and maybe some hands-on healing of my shoulder by one of our healers. I fantasize more, but I know better. And, yes, I will be cleaning up after dinner. After all, that is why MW married me.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Problems With Chastity Devices

Why Use A Chastity Device?

I am beginning to think that there are no true chastity devices, only tokens. Consider the origin of this. Back in the era of the Crusades a Lord left his Lady for years at a time. Whether or not she was the kind who would stray was irrelevant. He went off to pursue his needs, and left her to want her needs. So who was going to provide them? He was getting his, but was she expected to remain chaste? If she would, why? By the way, it was not the Lord who was wearing the chastity device.

So, whether or not his approach to the solution was justified, her views were not addressed. She may have been willing and able to remain chaste, but he was so insecure that he would not trust her. Then again, if she was such a flake that she would screw any male with a hard on, a chastity device was simply working the symptom, not the cause. I am just saying that on the long run, it was wrong!

Is all of this is a Big Fantasy?

Getting back to the present, I feel that it is still wrong. If you don’t trust your partner, get rid of him. You don’t need some horny schmuck who will get his jollies at the slightest provocation and give you a sexually transmitted disease as an unintended side effect.

If all you worry about is his daily masturbation, but you get all the sex you want from him anyway, why should you care?

If he is such an asshole who masturbates to the point that he has no use for you, then get him therapy or get rid of him. I mean, really, people, try to solve the problem rather than mess with the symptoms!

I don’t know what percentage of the material out there that deals with chastity is real. My guess is a few percent, if that much. Maybe one percent. The rest is male fantasy. If you want examples of fake stuff, contact me, and I will give you examples. It is far more difficult to give you true stories.

Now that I have badmouthed [the myth of] male chastity, I can get to the meat of the matter, so to speak. We are all weird in some way, and some of us are weird sexually. For example, I like CBT, D/S, serving my wife. I want to be dominated sexually, and, difficult to believe, emotionally and psychologically, as long as all that is not in a really weird way, such as really hurting someone.

I can function as a normal human. I don’t frequent prostitutes or professional dominas. I just need a little kink in my life to spice up the mundane tasks that I face daily. Love alone will not suffice. I am not Sir Lancelot. I am more like Sir Frigging Horny. Give me some of this, and I will give you a lot of what you want. Simple.

The only thing that chastity has to do with me is that I am true to my wife. That would change if she no longer wanted me. As I said, I am not Sir Lancelot, but I am just as devoted to her. But I need something in return. Love, care, food, companionship are nice and necessary. But there is the other stuff that I mentioned, part of which is the toys that were the subject of this treatise. I am fascinated with them. If MW pays attention to my interest, she can use any device she wishes for any length of time. Or not. It is her attention that I crave. I also crave the devices, but I don’t need to get too technical to illustrate my point.

The Problems

Some of you may be tired of this subject popping up at a high frequency. It is as if that is all that supposedly submissive men think about. I have said before that I am not exactly submissive, but I submit to my wife as long as she wants me to. I would love more of her control, but I must be realistic.

I have also said that we play with chastity. I love the feeling of helplessness when I know that there is a chance of her forcing me to do things. A device such as this can be subtle, such as under clothes, yet I know exactly where I stand. It can be blatant, such as when I am not wearing clothes. It is totally unnecessary for me to wear such a device because I am honorable, and if she says, “You will not touch your male parts,” I will not touch them. Not because I am physically prevented, although that in itself is a great turn on. Because I agreed to follow her order.

Some of these devices are not real, rather, they are a token of what they are supposed to be. Say, a piece of plastic that I could crush with one hand would not keep me from cheating in any way. The token part is to show her that I take it seriously enough so that I don’t try to defeat it. Then there are those that would take a lot more than a good squeeze by one hand to defeat even in the slightest manner.

As most men who are into this, and as some couples, we have gone through many devices. Some of my early homemade devices were downright silly and very primitive. We bought some over the years, used them for a while, and dismissed them. I am still trying to find one that works for me.

I find the “belt style” devices intriguing. I love to read about them, I like to see men in them. In spite of that I am not even tempted to buy one. It is something I assume that I could wear at home while being in my natural state only as a punishment or for my wife’s amusement. There are many reasons for my not wanting to have one. The most compelling is a matter of personal cleanliness. When I have to rely on the keyholder for that purpose, that is asking too much, and can be just too inconvenient.

The trivial devices such as “seven gates of hell” are strictly for D/S play. They can be sexy, fun, and cause enough pain and humiliation to make them worth the effort, but they are non-functional for chastity or orgasm control. If chastity devices have leather parts, or parts that rust or get otherwise damaged by liquids, their effectiveness and life span are limited.

Metal devices were the precursors of the now ubiquitous plastics. Back when a man did not have to worry about metal detectors picking up his hardware, a wife could send her cheating-prone hubby on a business trip with it on. She must now rely on plastic. Metal devices have class. They tend to exude an aura that plastic, especially the colorful ones, cannot match. Metal also suggests a permanence and strength, although a bolt cutter could make confetti out of it in a hurry. My favorite is stainless steel. That is not the same as chrome-plated pot metal or aluminum.

Plastics are a great innovation. They are easy to mass-produce, cheap to make, don’t set off alarms, are light weight and come in colors (yuck!). They also easily break, and are easily defeated by an unscrupulous wearer who does not mind having his fun now and paying for it later.

Variations on the theme dealing with “safety”, “security”, and functionality have come along in the form of piercings. In a way some devices take advantage of piercings and would not function well without them. In an other way the piercing was in itself a chastity device that became enhanced by the newly acquired hardware. This is one reason why I pierced my little guy. The jewelry that I can wear is barbaric, but damned sexy. It is also versatile in D/S. Just visualize me being lead by a leash attached to a Prince Albert ring that is permanently in place place. See We Are Playing Again.

My first real chastity device was a CB2000 (see Mistress Wife Is At Home ). We still use it from time to time. MW likes to vary the scenario and I am all for it. It broke, and I fixed it. With my fixes it still works as well as when it was new. However, I had a problem with long-term wear, say more than a full day. Not that I am squeamish, too sensitive, or that I can’t stand some pain and discomfort. Here is what happens. My little guy is uncut. That means a fully functional foreskin is there for all to see. Well, maybe only those who pay first. Without the cage there is no problem.

With the cage, the foreskin in place covering the head, urination tends to leave residues even after careful splashing of water onto the cage. So there is some unpleasant smell as a result. Trying to fix this problem I have pulled back the foreskin, and left the head bare, so to speak. It works because the little guy fills the space in the cage. I even get a thrill out of it, and the cleaning effort, even when I am away from home, tends to be more effective. This, however, creates another problem. My foreskin swells, and I must assume that leaving it swollen for more than a couple of days will cause some harm other than just pain. So this is not a long term solution.

We tried a CB3000 lately. It is a slight improvement in looks and size over its predecessor. I like the looks. It is sexy, but I like it less than the predecessor, because my parts will not dry as readily due to the almost solid tube. In other respects it has identical problems. My solution to this foreskin-swelling problem is to have the device off for a few hours each day. Even in a very strictly controlled Keyholding relationship this is possible if one tries. It even opens possibilities of D/S that a 24/7 device would not allow. For example, some keyholders will bindfold or handcuff a male while the device is off. A more interesting and less cumbersome approach was offered by a male in his relationship. His wife hands him a solid steel hinged collar which he locks around his neck She has the key to the lock. After that he is allowed to remove the cage. The collar remains on him until she decides otherwise, which will most likely be when the cage is reinstalled. Since he has to go out once in a while, like to work, it goes without saying that the cage goes back on unless he works at some porno shop. He did not say what would happen if he misused his cock while out of the cage, but I imagine that the issue could be addressed by the keyolder prior to the exchange of collar for cage.

MW and I are also using a strip of plastic called the Kali’s Teeth Bracelet. It may be a misnomer as far as the “bracelet” part is concerned, but it is effective to a certain extent. I could still orgasm wearing it, but no male or female would want to be, ah, entered by me, so that sort of cheating is not really feasible. This too, is a short-term device. The last time I had this on I wrote in one of my recent posts . It was on the order of three days, and MW wanted me to keep in on for another three days until we meet again (she was out of town for a week). Well, aside from the extreme pain that woke me every morning over and over again, this too caused some swelling in addition to the pinprick holes that the nasty little teeth created. My sweet and perverse MW also likes to gently knee me in the balls from time to time. Wearing this device makes that very painful for me. Sure, the pain is temporary, and hurts too much only when I have an erection. Then again I have an erection most of the time when she is around, especially when she is having fun with me.

I pointed our in an earlier posting that I have considered buying the #12A from Miss Lori’s site (see Lori's Devices). This seemed to have solved all the problems that people had with other devices. But I had a hard time visualizing how it is used. I wrote to her expressing this concern, and also that my measurements are all over the map, and that trying to fit me to any device may be futile. She answered promptly. Among other things, she said, “… Your length does not matter … The #12 series does not allow erections so your length will not change that much using this device.”

Ah " …, does not allow erections?" Where do they go? I mean, when my little guy goes from zero to seven inches in two seconds and changes from finger size to, you know, stand back. It is almost like pulling a ripcord on an inflatable boat: if you stand too close, you may get a pair of fat lips. So, how does “not allowing” work exactly? Could I be facing a bit of unintended side effects, like maybe extreme bulging in unnatural ways and places? Maybe a blowout? Miss Lori was very nice to have included a picture that demonstrated to a certain extent why length does not matter. I have not asked permission to show it, so I can’t. But it does tell me some things. (1) #12A, or equivalent variety from her toy store, is difficult to install, but once on it stays on, (2) extreme size changes of my anatomy caused by temperature variations and the effect of sexual provocation would be very exciting, but not necessarily in a good way, (3) the issue of foreskin is not addressed.

Being as handy as I am with tools, I fabricated a prototype of the #12A just to investigate the feasibility. I incurred a bit of damage, it was fun, and I can try it again, but overall my conclusions stand. Now, if I could “consumer test" this device without having to pay first, I could do it justice. It would take going through the seasons, so to speak, to give it a chance to handle reactions to temperature changes in addition to MW's presence that tends to inflate my versatile parts. But I would prefer not to spend all that money just to find out what I think I already know.

Those of you who don’t know will find this funny. My little guy and the boys change configuration to the extent that you would not recognize them from moment to moment. In cold weather the little guy pulls in to the point where I may have to search for him sometimes. The boys snuggle up with the scrotum puckering around to provide a thermal insulation. The whole package is barely there.

In warm weather, however, the picture is much different. You would not believe that you are seeing the same set of parts. The little guy is no longer little. The boys swing low.

Given these seasonal variations, I have had some real problems with the cage variety of chastity device. It becomes very pressing in cold weather. If I loosen it to accommodate the cramped parts, then the cage falls off when I get warm, such as in a shower.

I know, you can’t satisfy everybody every time. The Lori's #12 device is perfect: shiny like jewelry, barbaric, and about 100 percent effective. However, I would not want a permanent erection with it on. I would love to have this item. I would love to play with it. I would love to suffer using it. I would love to have MW teasing me with it on just to see me lose control. But dang it! It cannot be a long-term device because of the foreskin problem.

No, I will not get a circumcision. I like the little guy just the way he is. But the #12 series of chastity devices assume that there is no foreskin. I don’t see a way around that. So, I could buy one, and we would play with it, but we could not install it and then forget it for the rest of my life as some users claim. Alas, it would be just another expensive toy. Then again, aren’t they all?

I would like to know whether I am the only one with the swelling foreskin problem. Have any of you guys experienced this? Of course, if your thing is already cut, you would not have the answer (sort of like a woman, and I don’t mean disrespect, not knowing about the direct effect of Kali). Still, I am listening.

Being Humbled Again

MW has been doing some unrelated research and came across "information" which is relevant to the above material.

I am convinced that we must not believe everything we read on the Internet. I have been saying this for years. So what do I do? I succumb to the very temptation that I try to discredit. This time it has to do with our interpretation of chastity devices. In specific, their origin. I admit that I did not research it before presenting it as the basis of my post. The bottom line is, according to this "information" the medieval folks did not invent the chastity device as we know them today. It is a nice legend, but we must give credit where credit is due. Then again, I have not checked the authenticity of this new "information", so I may still be wrong. If you are interested, check out this

It is probably more credible then what we find on the websites of vendors of chastity devices, or blogs by proponents of male chastity.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Start Of Another Vacation For Mistress Wife

The Last Few Days

I have related to you the vacation and the two days after that Vacation. Aside from MW forcing me to wear the CB2000 this time, not much has happened. She was a bit distracted again about some upcoming events. I will talk about the more pleasant ones and skip the others.

I know that we just had a vacation a couple of weeks ago, but she had another planned earlier in the year, and somehow there was not a good way to re-schedule it. I have mentioned some of her female friends before, and how MW arranges a nice few day’s stay at some resort for the three or four of them including MW. This was one of those occasions. The resort this time was near home, so she planned to have me serve them in many ways.

Two days prior she had me install Kali’s teeth just for her fun and enjoyment. It is not an impressive device unless you already know the details (see Kali). I suffered for two nights with the infernal hardons that feel like some animal is chewing off the little guy. On the third day I was to drive her to the resort and help her and friends to move in. I again loaded the Beast and we met her friends where MW rented a three-bedroom condo for the week. Nice place. She chose to keep me with her in the Mistress suite overnight. I, of course, did the kitchen wench detail suitably impressing her friends. Not that I am so good, but her friends are not used to seeing a good man doing the right thing.

After dinner the four of us lounged in the living room. There was wine, interesting movie, many bare female legs. My favorite, of course, was the pheromones. MW does not flaunt me before her friends, and in fact, forbids me to do anything with them unless she specifically tells me to do something, such as carry their luggage or apply lotion to a foot or two. Yes, I get away with a greeting or departing hug and occasional deep kiss (very deep). But all that is just sort of friendly rather than blatantly sexy. They don’t really know that I am so pussy-whipped by MW, but I am sure they have an idea that our relationship is not exactly vanilla. After all, what average male would clean up after dinner and remain pleasant, entertaining, courteous, and sexy as hell. Ok, maybe not that sexy, but you get the picture.

These females (not including MW) are nocturnal, so it goes without saying that they will stay up late, whereas I pass out early. I stayed with them watching the movie until about 9:30. I excused myself, showered, and went to bed. The little piece of plastic goodie wrapped around my little guy began to give me a real hard time around 1AM. It was bad enough that I had to get out of bed and just walk around thinking of Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton together. I think I was OK when I imagined them driving over the edge of …

Sorry about that, just a bit of perversion on my part. I have this thing against lawyers in general. In any case, the little guy settled down and I went back to sleep. That is, until about 1:30. At that point even the lawyer thoughts were no help, so I needed to get into some real serious stuff like Bill Clinton, but without Monica et. al. At some point I had to throw in Al Gore, and that worked. I recalled a photograph that one of my sons acquired. It showed Slick Willie and Algore in leather bondage gear with Algore wearing handcuffs. I am sure that the photo was not genuinely depicting their situation at the time. Algore is too damned serious for that. After this point I could actually go back to sleep. Until about three. The little fugger got me up again. At that point it was no use trying again. I am sure that I was being punished for my irreverent thoughts, as useful as they had been.

MW was showering after her exhausting night of joy with her friends. I waited until her return when we talked and she wanted to cuddle. That was great, except that it did things to the little guy again, so there I was in agony, being punished again for my sinful thougths agains great political leaders.

MW was very understanding, heh-heh, and let me get out of bed to make some coffee for myself while she settled down for some serious sleep.

I returned to the dining room and started coffee. While it was brewing I set up my laptop computer and bought a week’s time of wireless Internet. As much as I liked the place, they did not provide free access, so it’s either pay or suffer. Nobody wants to be without Internet. Oh, sure, I could go to the lobby and hog their computer there while trying to cover the monitor with my body. Yeah, right! I would rather suffer.

Over the next few hours I did some work, some play, some reading, and some writing. I consumed a lot of caffeine in the form of my evil black brew. A minute before 8AM I entered the Mistress bedroom and dropped my shorts to join MW in bed. The little guy again raised hell, and we suffered, but that could not be helped, and was wort it. Snuggling up to MW’s butt does things to both of us: juicy fun with stiff accompaniment. Well, this time, it was just a pain in the cock. She enjoyed it, but only in a perverse way. At least, that is what I perceived.

I made more coffee that we shared in bed. After coffee one thing led to another, and I made a comment, “I could just eat you.”

I say that a lot…

“Yes you could.” She answered.

I am usually dense when it comes to hints, but this time I decided to take a chance, and began to shimmy down south. I knew I was on the right track when she parted her legs and my face encountered a very wet pair of beautifully fragrant lips.

As much as I like to be down there, I need to breathe, and the position of my neck demands an unusual amount of stress, which tends to cut off the blood supply to my head. Passing out under the circumstances is not a good thing, so I do what is necessary. Without going to a lot of detail, I will say that there is an easy solution to the awkward position: turning around into a so-called "69 position." This is not to suggest that I expect reciprocation from MW, although I would not refuse it. More like it is a natural position for me. I am not actually on the top. She is on her back, I often get up on my knees and support myself with one or two elbows while our lips and other juicy parts connect. I can go on for hours in that position if she wants me to do so. I wish…

I began with enthusiasm and I think that even a novice lover of nether lips would have done well, considering how juicy and ready she was. It must have been all the communal pheromones lingering since the evening before. I have heard that with women living together when one is menstruating, often the others will do so. This was not menstruation, but you get the idea.

With a little help from a couple of my fingers she arrived at what I perceived to be a very satisfactory conclusion to a lovingly executed situation. Make that two or three. Oh my goodness! She was delicious in all ways. Yes, the little guy was hurting, and it was just a bit distracting, but I was willing to suffer anything to give my MW a good time, and she was gracious enough to allow me the chance.

I did not want to wash my face afterward, but she insisted since we were not alone in the condo. To me her scent is heaven. To her after such an event it is “Love juice seasoned by the passage of time, not to be shared by straights.” Pity.

We had more coffee, as if I needed it, and then she booted me out of the place since I had work to do at home, and she needed to get on with her week’s vacation with friends. Kali is still wrapped around the little guy, and I am to join her in three days for a barbecue that I am to provide at that time. I feel really abused. Please feel sorry for me.

Meanwhile I am to enjoy her remote control pain over me via Kali. Why do I get myself into these situations?

Saturday, August 16, 2008

On the submissive female…

Everything that I do, say, and feel is based on the fact that “I love women.” See Seduction of the Innocent on my blog. My being submissive to females is part of it, but even if I were totally dominant with respect to women my love for them would not change. Think of this in a slightly different context, say, “I love my children.” Do I have to be submissive to them? Not in the least, unless I want to be, or unless I am bent that way. But that does not change my love for them.

I must be very careful when dealing with people. I have touched on this subject at Dispelling a Couple of Myths especially when it could affect others around me. I need to be aware of the charm of the female on my psyche. As if that is not hard enough, I am aging. Aside from the nose hair and other age provided annoyances I have realized that my range of tolerance and appreciation is widening and deepening when it comes to females. Whereas in the past I would have walked past a female of a certain age, regardless of her charms, today I still walk past, but turn around in a couple of seconds pretending to be looking at something I may have just passed, but my full attention is actually on the old broad who just grabbed my attention so to speak.

In my natural stance I am attuned to powerful females more than to those who tend to take second place in a relationship. The second-place position of a woman does not detract from her attractiveness in any way, just that I like to follow a female, and if she herself is following, it is not so clear as to what I do next. I would be willing to work on that problem given the chance.

Taking this from the top so to speak, my preference is to serve a powerful woman. This does not mean that I subscribe to the superiority of just any female (see Female Supremacy Again). It does mean, however, that some females can make me do things that no other female or male could.

Before you get the idea that I will follow a whiff of pussy any time any place (actually you are very close to reality here, but that’s another subject to explore later) I declare that above all I am totally committed to my Mistress Wife. Therefore, following a pussy, regardless of the pheromones or visual stimulation, is not an option unless it is hers. Then I have no choice but to follow.

I consider myself to be a real man. I have a reasonably attractive demeanor, some intelligence, education, and skill in many useful occupations, so I am not including myself in the group of men who think themselves to be so worthless that any female should have the right and opportunity to have them lick the sole of her boot. There is a place for men like that, and I don’t begrudge their position, but that is just not me. Of course, this does not mean that MW could not make me lick anything, any time, anywhere. I am strange that way.

So, do I have a problem with submissive females? Well, I do in a way. Straight from the top, I have a real problem with a female submitting to a male. This is not an aversion such as one would have along racial, sexual, religious, etc. lines. It is purely based on my being protective of females under all circumstances, and I can’t imagine a female being mistreated in any way with my approval or participation. Then again, I have never tried it, so I may have to change my mind about this if or when I encounter it.

You must understand my tremendous self control when I interact with submissive females. MW has a female friend who is totally submissive to her husband. For example, she gives him oral sex almost in total exclusion of all other sex, like in, “she does not get any.” In a way I admire his ability to be able to have her do this, which is something I have never achieved. But that is just my kinky side. If I ever were given the opportunity I would kick his ass and tell him to suck himself, and never force her again. Then again, maybe he is satisfying a deeper need by her to serve. Who knows? I have never discussed this with either of them.

In another context I have shared some comments with a lovely lady who calls herself Doll. In her own words, she is “A Tantalizing Woman.” At the risk of being gauche, I want to say that I would love to meet and give us a chance to become friends. But she is submissive to a man! Oh my, can I handle that? Indeed I can.

There was another woman whom I like because of her real humanity. She had a blog at Good Girl which is no longer posting. She was real, she enjoyed her position, and I love reading her story. Even her husband did not offend me because of my perception that the roles should be reversed. She appeared to really enjoy being submissive, and it was good because it satisfied a woman whom I liked.

So much for my open minded approach. I still have a hard time accepting a female being mistreated in any way even when she unequivocally desires it, like I desire being mistreated by MW. But, “Kink is as kink does.” Suppose (in my wildest fantasy) MW were bisexual and would have a female slave. Suppose she acquired one, and we now would have a three-level relationship. Where would that put me? By choice I would always be on the bottom, but I would, of course, follow MW’s orders and preferences. I would resolve my conflict for the good of all, given that my action or inaction would do no harm. In this situation I would take the fall rather than hurt a person. Not that I am into male to male relationships, but this would go for that too. If MW had the notion of acquiring a male slave, I would still follow her lead.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Our “Annual Drive-each-other-crazy Obligatory Visit to her Parents in another State”

We do this once a year. Before I present our thrilling trip, I want to point out that MW endured some years of family vacations with my parents along, so she had earned some credit that she has been using up lately. My parents are long gone; it is now only hers...

July 28, 2008
Due to an on-going restoration of my office all of our computer equipment is squeezed into our bedroom that already has the regular bedroom stuff and then some! This is a big cramp: two desks, two chairs, one work station, one filing cabinet, three computers with monitors, printer, scanner, book case, and miscellaneous junk. I have just finished cabling so that we don’t trip over them.

I am up at 3 AM working on my computer. I try to be quiet and don’t have any lights on except the little USB light. Mistress Wife creeps silently out of bed and moves as if sleepwalking. I can’t discern her form in the dark, but I hear an occasional crunch as she steps on toys the cats left. I ask, “Are you up for good?” She does not answer. I walk to her and run my lips over her lovely parts. Again I ask what the problem is.

“We will be leaving in 28 hours.”

She is already stressed over what could be a good time. Pity.

July 29, 2008

We are sipping my robust brew on the front deck watching the bunnies, quail, doves, thrashers, etc. She begins to make oblique references to something that did not register on my mind immediately. Then at some point I feel the edge of former hurt. I remember forgetting her anniversary of something or other. Today is her birthday. Suddenly I understand the subtle pokes at my psyche. I put down my coffee, and blurt, “I will return.” I hasten to the garage where I kept an item just for this occasion. I left it in the garage because she stays out of there, so it was unlikely for her to find it too soon. It was meant as her birthday gift.

I retrieve the box and go upstairs to present the contents. She is thrilled. It is, by her words, “A lovely gift from my pet. A glass turtle. He remembered my birthday.” I am in a state of grace. I may be totally guilty of something in the next minute, but for now I relish here appreciation of a decadent and frivolous beauty.

We are only an hour or so late leaving. I run to keep up with the demand for my services: take care of the animals, pack our miscellaneous electronic gear, pack my own stuff, and load a ton of material into the Beast. The Beast is a tall, big, beautiful, black truck that can accommodate the driver and five passengers, has four wheel drive and off-road equipment. Yes, we are decadent and proud of it.
I shower when I think that all that is done. She has me install the CB3000, and then I dress.

The way out of town is boring. I already know that I will suffer at least until we get to check into a motel in the evening. Tight cock ring, tight cage, in tight shorts, pressed upon by tight pants does not help as I sit driving. I keep adjusting the seat like John Candy in “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” (until he breaks it). Even when I take a break to give the boys a chance to breathe I am in pain. In spite of that I appreciate her gesture. About half way to our first day’s destination we stop for a picnic lunch in an area just off the highway. Food is good; we relax a bit. I need to make a deposit, so I head into the bushes. Have you ever tried to pee with a cage on while trying to negotiate tight pants, tight shorts, and the wind? I should squat. The outcome is not bad, but I do have to wash my hands thoroughly.

At the motel after half a day of suffering she says, “Take off the device so that we can check for problems.” I finish unloading our equipment, which takes about twenty minutes. All the floor space in the room is taken up by our stuff that I don’t want to leave in the Beast overnight. I undress and remove the cage. Cleaning the equipment and shower time follows. She generously allows me to remain unfettered, but nothing much happens.

July 30, 2008

I am up early as usual and grouchy because there is no way for me to make or get coffee. I read a book, and keep glancing at her bare buns while thinking of what I would like to do with them. At some point I assume that she would not mind connecting with the world again, so I slip into bed behind her. While feeling her smooth curves with my hand, I snuggle up to her back. It takes a short time for the little guy to become the big guy. We enjoy our closeness for a while. Then she says, “We should try something we haven’t for a while. I guess what is coming up.

She lifts her knee, and then guides my slick tip between her lips. We try to connect for a few minutes. It sure would be nice to get down there and lubricate her fragrant private parts with my tongue before going further. Even afterward would be nice. She takes charge of the big guy, and guides him into her warm folds. At that point he takes charge, and I am along for the fantastic ride.

I load our equipment into the Beast, check out of the motel, and then drive through the small town to buy coffee and ice for the trip ahead. We head toward our destination at a relaxed pace, allowing all the stressed-out idiot vacationers to pass us on the two-lane highway. It’s not that I am dragging my ass, just that I stay with the speed limit primarily to conserve fuel and maintain a sane control over the situation. I am comfortable with my thoughts, also with the realization that MW did not bring up the subject of the cage, so it was neatly packed in my luggage. The boys are thankful.

Another half day of driving through the small roads of the colorful countryside brings us to our destination. I haul our equipment up to the second floor of the hotel. Foolishly I pour myself a drink. Being the day after her birthday she expects a fine dinner out. I already consumed half a shot of Scotch, so she expects me to be prostrate with alcohol in my innocent veins thereby being unable to choose, find, and drive to a fine restaurant. I am unfamiliar with the local streets and have no map and she knows that. In not so many words, I am in deep stuff. I feel that we have to go out to eat even if by a limousine.

After one drink neither my driving nor my reasoning ability are affected enough to matter. I decide to drive. The search for a restaurant does not go well. There are many, but with heavy traffic, and always being on the wrong side of the road from our target we are being selective. Driving into the sunset and looking through bug-smudged windshield while each of us is trying to satisfy the other, we are lucky to survive. A few miles down the street I turn back. After some more false starts we pick a decent Italian restaurant that does not seem to have too long a wait. As we sit in the lobby the contention between us is thick in the air. She is almost crying. After fifteen minutes of my concentration on the female customers we are escorted to a booth. Things improve from there. I order a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon from a private label. She orders tea, her favorite appetizer, and a salad. I order a smallish pasta meal. The wine is excellent. We mellow a bit as the evening progresses.

July 31, 2008

The reason for this trip is for MW to visit her parents. It is understood that I am to participate to the smallest extent possible. This decision is based on the tension, and resulting seriously bad times between us borne of earlier years’ experiences with the same. The problem is that she has an obligation that she can’t handle in a lighthearted manner. It goes deep. As a result, she needs my stable presence to assure her that she will not be sucked into a psychological twilight in handling conflicting emotions. I have a more simplistic way of handling situations: I get to the point and do what needs to be done. She, on the other hand, tries to satisfy everyone present, which ends up at her expense more than she can afford emotionally. In theory she could do all that. In practice it takes too much from her. This results in an amount of tension that neither of us can handle with grace.

When I pick her up at the end of her visit I had already spent several pleasant hours alone at the hotel, so I am in good shape. She, on the other hand, had spent the same hours building up stress like a coiled spring. I am aware of it, but not the extent of it.

We are in bed after watching a movie on one of our DVDs. I am ready to sleep; she tries to read to unwind a bit. With tremendous self-control she beats the mattress with her fists behind my back while she blurts the source of her angst. I understand. The only comment I make is, “I am glad that it was not my back that you have just pummeled. You are welcome to use a light instrument like a crop if you really feel the need, however.”

August 1, 2008

The morning begins with the expected stress. I make the mistake of offering her advice on how to handle her situation. It is not meant to be a lecture, but she takes it as such.

I am always on her side even when I think that she is wrong. She must know that. But when she is stressed like this, she may see things differently. We resolve some issues, and she decides to check her email on the Internet. We are staying at a hotel where Internet access is free. As a consequence, we have no recourse about the flaky service provided. She tries several times, but the connection goes in and out. Each time she complains. I remain silent since there is not anything that I can do, and I know that she is aware of it.

I drop her off at her relatives’ house, then return to the hotel for some hours of solitude. During the day I do some reading, some writing, and also visit some blogs of people who post their experiences on FLR. One particular posting strikes me as relevant to our relationship.

MW wants to be in charge, because she likes the perks of being in charge. On the other hand, she does not need or want the responsibility or the obligation that go with being in charge. In a simpleminded fashion I can assess this relationship as, “She gets the mine, and I get the shaft.” This is not as bad as one could assume since I love to get the shaft by her. But it is definitely not the ideal FLR. Given the stress-induced volatility of her nature this presents us with a difficult situation. She needs my complete attention, and I can’t give it to her under the circumstances. So, FLR is out the window, she feels abandoned by me, and we get nowhere in trying to explain how things really are. We don’t fight, just remain unsatisfied in most ways.

When she is stressed, she can’t force herself to be in charge. I would not expect her to arrange a full-scale DS session with me, but it would be nice if she just came out as a person who knows what she wants, and has me help her in any way that she needs. I could continue my role as a submissive husband to provide all that. Instead of telling me or even asking me to do things, she skirts issues and makes vague references that even in my best moments I would not understand. I don’t give her what she needs, and I fail as her submissive. The scenario reinforces her already negative feelings, so there is no chance of a reasonable solution.

The relevance to what I read in the aforementioned blog is that at times like this is when a working FLR could really be helpful. She needs to know that I am there to serve all the time, especially when she needs it most. All she needs to do is ask or tell me the details. She knows that I am not thrilled to be with her relatives for all the hours that she decides to spend with them, but that does not mean that she can’t say, “I need you with me for such and such occasion, and after that you can leave.” I have done that in the past, and can do it again. The problem is that she then begins to watch me, and notices that I am not exactly thrilled. I am not the most gracious guest who entertains and charms the pants off all the other guests. She takes this as antagonistic behavior on my part, so she does not want me to be there. She ends up “throwing herself onto the grenades,” and I am not there to pick up her pieces.

August 2, 2008

The grand conjunction of her visit is about to take place. Two of our adult children fly in to join her and her relatives. I am invited but am not pressed to attend, so I decline. She does another visit in the morning, and comes back to the hotel to relax until the reunion. Late in the afternoon our children arrive to pick her up. They head to the event.

I settle back to a relaxed evening. I have dinner out of our larder in the kitchenette. For the next two hours I read a mystery novel. About every fifteen minutes I flip through the hundred or so channels on television only to be dismayed by the trash that is offered. My novel has far more attraction, so I stay with it.

The phone rings around nine in the evening. MW wants to know whether I would like to join the three of them for dinner. My first thought is to decline the invitation, and remain naked in bed enjoying my book. Then I realize that this is her way of asking me to be with her, with the children.

Fortunately for all of us I had not been drinking my usual amount of wine, so I graciously accept her invitation. I put on my clothes and zip down the freeway to the restaurant where we are to meet. Since I am not hungry, I take my dinner in the form of an excellent Margarita. I take some pictures of the three of them as they are conversing. We are having a pleasant time. After dinner I drive the two of us back to the hotel. MW appears relaxed. I made the right choice in joining them for dinner.

August 4, 2008

I don’t remember what we did the yesterday. She decides that we would start our trip home one day ahead of schedule. After breakfast I load the Beast. We stop at her folks again to say goodbye. We leave before noon with far less stress and some pleasant expectation of the trip home. We do our favorite sight seeing at national parks and old towns that we remember from prior trips. We go out of our way to find roads that we have not traveled recently. We choose to travel those two lane roads that still allow us to see what the country was before the interstate highways were put in with the subsequent chain motels, hotels, restaurants, and rest stops.

We take many pictures. MW chooses not to give away our location, so I include only one here. You can interpret it to a certain extent and form a conclusion. The small towns through which we pass allow a glimpse into the past. I find it charming and sad. Houses built in the past century, homes with small cornfields and vegetable patches in the front yard, decaying buildings and rusting farm equipment speak of a different life style of the past.
Old crumbling buildings, barns with sagging lumber, and old businesses locked and boarded up for ever. Some ambitious families thrived in these places until the children left to the cities, and the homestead lacked the support it needed. Soon now, bulldozers will be used to make still another shopping mall, and modern housing developments will sell their houses to people from out of state who come for the “relaxed old style country living”. Yeah, right!

We drive into the early evening. Because we started home one day early, we had to cancel our reservation. Being in a small town with accommodations ranging from “undesirable” to “forget it” leaves us two options: drive home or go back a few miles and try in a larger town. Driving home would be another 6-7 hour affair, so we decide to backtrack. In this larger place we have more options. We choose a motel where we stayed many years before. It is relatively clean, but it is a dump in other respects. However, we like each other’s company, and there is a Mexican restaurant next door. We walk across the lot to have dinner.

August 5, 2008

The last day of our trip home begins with my driving to the local coffee shop for coffee. It is not Starbucks, but it is better than the swill I would get at a Denny’s or such. I return with two cups. After coffee I have breakfast, then load the Beast again for the last time while MW is dealing with her email. We head for home.

In spite of all the coffee that I consume on this trip, I keep falling asleep at the wheel, so I need to stop often to pump some adrenaline into my veins. I also stop to buy more of the thick black stuff to keep me juiced. Somehow we make it into a city where we often stop to have lunch. The place is a college town that caters to tourists passing through year around. The waiter staff consists of college students in most eateries. We seldom get adventurous, but the place that we frequent is different. It serves flavorful simple meals and has a microbrewery on site that displays the equipment. The atmosphere is college-like, although the clientele is definitely not. Then there are the waitresses about whom I should not talk. In some people’s opinion they are way too young for me.

I park the beast in a slot about half the size needed. We squeeze ourselves out the doors. A glance around to assess potential damages does not reassure me. I notice that the tattoo and piercing parlor next to the restaurant is still in business. I toy with the idea of visiting it. But, knowing that MW is already hungry after skipping breakfast, I control my urges. We enter the restaurant. It is a shame that the time of the day is lunchtime. Because the place is packed, we don’t get our usual booth, so MW is more than slightly annoyed. I am OK with the table, but realize that a storm is brewing. A nearby booth is vacated, so I ask the waitress to move us to it. As the lunch crowd thins the noise in the place abates, I am beginning to hear and understand her words. After a bit of recrimination directed at me she is all right.

After lunch we drive through some of America’s most beautiful country to get to our next stopping point. As usual I am well fortified with coffee, and manage to keep us on the road most of the time. We stop to pick up MW’s favorite dessert, and then continue to head down to the final destination, home. A couple of hours later we again face the grand entrance to our homestead, being greeted with a view of Titanic proportions, framed in the gateway to a well known legendary location in the USA (MW wants to keep this private for now).

I have some work to do to unload the Beast, take care of the animals, and make MW comfortable. I am tired, but it feels good to be home.

August 8, 2008

It is two days after the trip. We are well settled once again. I am awakened by one of our cats who likes to get attention at around 2AM. I put him out upon his request, and make espresso to start my day. A few hours on the computer to catch up on writing, accounting, and some surfing has me relaxed. Around six I again look at the beautiful butt that MW presents as she sleeps on her side. I just have to do something about it. I slide behind her, and feel her softness along her back, cupping her butt, then down her thighs feeling her perfect legs. She is ready for coffee. I am ready for sex. We compromise. Sex first, followed by coffee.

I prepare my perfectly thick but deadly brew, and we enjoy the cool quietness of the landscape on the upper deck. We make plans to return to FLR real soon. It is the start of another perfect day.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

The Need to be Dominated

The Prime Directive of a Submissive Male

I will be blunt. I have said a lot of significant things wrapped in gentle hints before. This time I will say it the way it is. Or at least, the way I think it is.
Most of the male’s desire to serve a female can be distilled to wanting to be sexually dominated by the female.
Go ahead, challenge me on this. Tell me all about it.

I have come to where I am in a relationship with females in a circuitous way, but I always had a recurring theme: I wanted to be taken sexually, which is what I call “prime directive one.” My journey started at age six with that, continued, and it is still that way. All the other things I have done were to achieve prime directive one. There! Now you know all you need to know about me, and use it for your own gain and pleasure, or against me.

Is there a true submissive out there?

Show me the altruistic slave to a female, and I will show you a horny bastard who is willing to give anything to be used and abused by a female, but on his terms. You heard me, “on his terms”. Not that it will necessarily happen, but in his fantasies it will, and he will agree to about anything to make it so.

Let’s propose a hypothetical but common scenario that I have read often over the last few years. A man is into serving a woman. He may be into forced chastity, tease and denial, corporal punishment, etc. This covers maybe ninety percent of the submissive men. When he is “allowed” to masturbate, or to have sex with his Mistress, what do you think he is thinking about? Is he thinking about cleaning the kitchen? Maybe removing the kitty litter or taking her dog for a walk? I think not. More likely some kinky stuff that has to do with very sensual body contact with his female or another, in a way that he seldom or never gets. He can still be a perfectly good submissive to her in a real sense, just that he, and most men, including me, usually don’t get all that we want from our Mistress. So, we take what we can, and rely on fantasy for the rest. Not that the Mistress is likely to be much different as far as that goes.

A Primitive Analogy

A cart that carries a heavy load needs good axles that are lubricated by good quality axle grease. When all is well and working flawlessly the driver or owner can ignore the axles for a while. Then, after some heavy load, especially under severe conditions, the lubricant wears off. The axles begin to squeal. The noise can be ignored for a while, but it is not the real problem. The noise is just an indicator of some deeper need that requires immediate attention. Without further lubrication the axle will fail.

So much for “Service, true service, and nothing but service for a deserving female.” There may be all that, but that is just part of the whole. It is an admirable goal that not many men will attain, not even for short periods of time. At least, not without robust sexual domination by the woman of their attention as a payment for services. Think of it as the lubricant for a hard working axle.

Extreme Cases

We are aware of the sad fact of rape against women. It is constantly in the news, it is in our history, and it is in our future. I will try to control myself about elaborating on this, for it would take a book or two to do it some justice. I will say, however, “Women can be raped with consequences, whereas men can not.” There have been isolated cases of man claiming to have been raped by a woman, and even less often being able to bring prosecution against her. I would have loved to be on the jury of that trial. I would love to know exactly what is meant by rape in this case. Aside from the prurient interest, I would love to learn how a woman could rape a man without his cooperation. I suppose that an elaborate exception could be imagined and executed, just that I don’t see it in real life. Some of the questions by me would be “Why would she rape him?” and “How would she rape him?”

On the other hand, a woman can be raped by a usually stronger man, or a man of determination, skill, and dedication. I don’t see a woman getting off on being raped. I don’t see a woman advocating to be raped. I see rape as a personal insult, a harmful act, and a serious crime. While I could see a man being raped in the same light, I insist that implementation is unlikely.

In Summary …

Getting into the kinky stuff, it is many men’s fantasy to be raped by a woman or women. They don’t necessarily want it to happen, and would probably try to prevent it if it were to come up for real. Nevertheless, it is a powerful fantasy that drives the man’s need to submit to a woman. Yes, men will do cleaning, dusting, driving, and even boot licking, etc., just to get the favors from their object of desire. All this is valid. It is a way to get some kinky attention that we men crave. But let’s get real. It is all about wanting to be sexually dominated by a woman. The rape of a male is usually without consequence unless one is into frequenting clientele of unsavory pedigree: sexually transmitted disease, psychotic S/M practices, and indulging in drugs as part of the act are not addressed here.

I am trying to be in a Female Led Relationship. I love it when my wife takes over. If it is non-sexual, I think that it will be, given time. If it is sexual, I want more, I want to escalate it. The real problem is when we need to address reality on the long term. Things like earning a living, dealing with the law, raising children, honoring family obligations, serving the country, etc. It can be done. But some aspect of the relationship will suffer, and we must be willing to work with that. A female can lead as well as a male, but when it is to satisfy a male’s fantasy of sexual domination, the real issues are not being addressed.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Getting Really Serious ...

Female Supremacy Again

The idea keeps popping up in expected places. I was re-reading old posts of Katherine West. There is some controversy about her legitimacy as a dominant female. It has been suggested that she is anything but a female. Be that as it may, her writing has a depth that captures my imagination. From time to time she presents some captivating monologue and dialogue.

In one post she proposed the desirability of a matriarchal approach to leadership in the highest places. No, not the Pope, she was talking Hillary. Political views are as whimsical as D/S, so I would not care to argue the merits of her beliefs as much as I disagree with her on this particular issue. I give her my admiration, however, for she stated that (Friday, August 26, 2005) she lets her slave husband vote his conscience, as opposed to telling him how to vote.

In the Female Supremacy Realm all is not as it has been expected. Part of the reason is that when some segment of society assumes supremacy, they become overly full of themselves, and tend to anger not just the opposition, but also many of the supporters of the faith. A case in point is on-going revolt in the Clinton camp, and the wholesale abandonment of Mr. Obama upon his repeated success with putting his feet in his mouth. Blunders are not restricted along political or D/S affiliation. We are all capable of doing that. Just that, as I said earlier, me must not succumb to becoming too full of ourselves.

I have lived this mistake repeatedly in my life. Not that I consider myself stupid, but from time to time I become myopic. It takes another person with wider vision to gently set me straight. I become humbled. For a while.

In my currently humbled opinion I truly believe that a matriarchal leadership can be as good or better than the good-old-boy leadership that we have now. I also believe just as strongly that females can mess up a society just as badly as males have. Just think of the fallout of the feminist movement starting in the seventies. Talk about unintended consequences!

The Goddess Syndrome

I will try to titillate you on a lighter note. I am not an advocate of monotheism or the other. For any argument that I propose for one or the other, hundreds or thousands of counter arguments will be proposed. As we know, it is futile to argue beliefs and feelings as opposed to observables and facts. Given that, I have a jaundiced view of any person claiming to be God. Same goes for Goddess. The reason is, only God or Goddess would know what it is to be one, and I have not met one lately.

I may relax my view if the same person claims to be "A God" or "A Goddess". Now we are dealing with more or lesser supreme beings, so I will give the deluded person a break. He or she may believe whatever, as long as I am not expected to worship because of his or her belief.

At this point I know that I may be tried and sentenced [in absentia] as a heretic by the Female Supremacy advocates. They will say, “Goddess, yes, God, no.”

I will give you all a break and accept this definition of a goddess: “A woman whose great charm and beauty arouses adoration.” There is no mystique, no supreme being, no supernatural (godly) powers. Just a whimsical position either assumed or granted, depending on the perspective of the relationship. Of course, we are now back to D/S as a context of discussion. I like this interpretation, because it applies to individuals, not to gender or group. I love to submit to my wife. She is no supreme being, but that does not stop me from doing anything for her. She can ask, request, or command, and the result is the same. But my devotion is not based on her supremacy. It is based on mutual love, respect, and commitment. It is also a game that must be suspended from time to time to deal with harsh reality.