Friday, November 28, 2008

Never Mind What I Said!

MW and I have our ups and downs and shared minor annoyances. My suggestion to her is to fix them in a very simplistic way, and usually on the spot. By "simplistic" I mean to have me correct whatever I did or did not do to her satisfaction, and then follow it up with some form of discipline if necessary. By "on the spot" I mean that she could have her way, and avoid hours of festering doubt and anger.

Yes, I know, “I am simply suggesting how she should behave,” which is essentially topping from the bottom. Maybe. Speaking of “bottom”, when she does decide to punish or discipline me, my “bottom” usually bears the brunt of it. Does not happen often, but when it does, I am the first to know it.

There are two things going on here. My proclivity for hand spanking is a given. When she tells me to place myself face down across her knees I know that she loves me. My only concern is that she hurts her bare hands while giving me joy. She can’t seriously hurt my buns with her wonderful hands, no matter how hard she hits. Yet I am sure that the impact is not good for her hands. So I have suggested to her that as much as I love the attention and the experience, she should spare her hands the pain.

The other thing on the subject is that I enjoy pain only in limited context, for example, the temporary application of tit clamps while I serve her. Pain imparted by her cane, whip, paddle, and crop when she uses it for punishment (or her pleasure) is not something I desire. I welcome it because by doing it she is telling me that she cares. The best part of that is when it is over.

Back to “Never Mind What I Said.” Whether or not she fixes the problem on the spot is not relevant to this statement. There is a second part to it.

Just Do What I Meant!

The second part is “Just Do What I Meant!” What was perfectly clear to MW when she told me to do something may have been clear to me also. Unfortunately for me, what she meant was not what I understood. What I understood was what she said. This goes back to the now cliché quote, “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.” Although I don’t subscribe to the idea of it, I understand that we are different. My mind works with logic and data. Paraphrasing from an old anecdote, when someone tells me to “Get me a spade” I get a spade, and not “A fucking shovel.” And there is the rub.

MW likes to speak in metaphors. She loves to hint rather than suggest or command. To me her hints are to be taken literally. So when I execute her hints, I invariably fail to execute what she really meant although did not say. She is aware of this since we have discussed it many times over the years. Yet she is still does not just grab me by the balls and say, “Now see here, do this and that, and do it now!” Not that I need to be grabbed by the balls to do things for her, but I would not object. It is just a figure of speech…

I think that our situation is like a human with a pet dog. Her being the human, I being the dog. She as the owner of the dog can try to train the animal to respond to her commands. The trick is to give the commands consistently until the animal truly understands the command and the required response. A hint instead of the command will confuse the dog.

The basic reason for this is that the dog has limited intelligence, and cannot be expected to read the nuances of some esoteric request from his mistress. The dog is not capable of that. Whereas, the mistress is capable of giving the command in ways that the dog cannot misunderstand. Do that, and both are happy.

So, I am still hoping that she will treat me more like a dog, and less like her peer. Well, at least in this respect. We could get kinky and elaborate on the mistress-dog relationship. But that is a subject for another post.

Thursday, November 27, 2008


You may call me "simplistic", or even "simple" for that matter. I am not a psychologist, so what I propose here is not authoritative, just genuine: anyone who hates women has a few loose bricks... Just like those of you out there who hate cats, or fat men or queers (sorry, in behalf of political correctness, I meant to say "gays"), hatred is just irrational. Yes, one can develop hatred to some people based on being the victim of repeated abuse. I would call that rational hatred. This is something else.

One submissive man on his blog was saying that his Mistress “… believes most subs are truly misogynists at heart because its their expectation that they see a Domme as a mean to their own end.” Mistress, according to the writer is a retired pro Domme. Hmm.

This assumed belief begs to be examined in the light of rational reasoning. It is also open to heated debate of extreme points of view.

There are men who hate women, so some men who visit pro Dommes are misogynists. There are women who hate men, so there are pro Dommes who hate men. But hate is not a requirement for the relationship. Rather, there is a symbiotic relationship between them similar to physical therapy, psychological therapy, carpet cleaning, plumbing, prostitution, etc.

If this Mistress does indeed believe what the man says, it appears that she has a low opinion of men who visit her for professional services. Or maybe men in general. Maybe she hates men. Is there a word for "hating men"? Going with the reasoning of this particular “retired Domme” we can also conclude “all pro Dommes hate men.” This is just as absurd as saying, “All subs who visit pro Dommes hate women.”

The “pro Domme–submissive client relationship” is benign. There is no need to scratch at it like one would scratch at a scab. I would love to get a treatment of female domination as much as any man, but I would not consider visiting a pro Domme for that purpose. Yet I see nothing wrong with another man doing so. There are situation in which that is the only way that a man’s primal need can be satisfied. He may be in a totally committed relationship that does not provide that need. Should he sacrifice the satisfaction of his need? What if it was the woman who needed such, and the man could not provide it? Should she just grin and bear it?

I don’t criticize men who use a pro Domme's services. And I definitely don’t believe that these men do so because they are misogynists. A professional Domme may have gone into business for the monetary rewards, for sexual thrill, or for revenge against earlier offense. It could be a combination. I condone the first two. The last, however, needs to be treated. Hate in any context is not a constructive attitude.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

The Female Supremacy Theory

I read an excerpt from a treatise on "female supremacy with consensual male slavery" on one of the blogs a while ago. I regret that I did not keep the source so that I could reference it here. If I find it, I will update this post. This treatise by the unnamed author is well written in content, style, and grammar. It promotes "absolute power" of female over male. I would love to argue many of the issues, but it would take more than a lifetime to do so, assuming that the author and I were able to give it all that attention.

I have dealt with the female supremacy subject in my blog, and dismissed it as a benign fantasy among a small number of advocates. I love to submit to females under some circumstances. As to submitting to superior humans of any race, gender, religion, or any other un-earned trait, consider me a revolutionary and a guerilla: I will fight to the death to maintain my freedom, and take any of the so-called superiors with me in the process. We need to remain vigilant in our well-established society to disallow this sort of idea to pervert us. No amount of consensual slavery by a few should become the norm for those who don’t see it that way.

Since I must limit my comments to a reasonable size, I will present only some basic issues that in turn should refute many of the unknown author’s assumptions, assertions, and arguments.

First I present the author’s use of the word, “absolute” to mean that females would have absolute power over males. People use this word trivially, perverting it to mean “without a doubt”, “really”, “no kidding”, etc. Squeeze a person who uses the word to define its meaning, and he or she will admit that the meaning was not really "absolute," assuming that they can actually define the word.

Second, I grant that the author of this treatise may know the meaning of "absolute," and intended to use it in its proper meaning. However, the human mind is incapable of doing justice to the word, for in our existence there are no absolutes. The word is as troublesome as "infinity." We can define both in terms of other words, but will never be able to experience their meaning. Given the above, using "absolute" to define inter-personal power exchange is, at best, limited, and more likely trivial.

Human society did not evolve at the stroke of one’s pen or keyboard. It is arrogant to assume that any one person has the answer to what ails us in the sociological realm. There have been despots who did that, and none are alive today. Imposing spiritual aspects attempts to re-create today’s ills caused by religion taken too seriously. The idea of female supremacy is an excellent example.

A complex issue cannot be presented and accepted simply by writing a few or a few thousand words about it. Yet, if one tries to write more, as in this case, one assertion will begin to refute the other, and the theory will go nowhere. Regardless of how thorough this treatise may be, the more said about it, the less chance there is of it being cohesive and without refute. There are holes. For example, the author does not deal with the following issues: children, siblings, parents and more distant relatives, etc. Then there is the matter of skipping over education, inheritance, medical care, old age, tort, and issues of national or regional defense. I don’t assume that when superior beings are in charge, all this will go away, for these superiour beings will create their own issues. Think of Greek mythology.

I would look forward to reading the whole treatise (if I can find it again), but only as I would read a novel. Perhaps the author meant to present it as such, and we have gone to a lot of trouble to figure that out. As a novel I have no problem with it. As a realistic proposition, it would not get past day one in implementation. As a neat fantasy among like-minded people who play with it, it may work until one or the other gets tired of the game.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch, ...

I have been reading some blogs where, probably with some justification, the writer is just bitching about his wife not being dominant in the way he would like it.

After some years of practice and achievement of wisdom (by virtue of getting old enough) I can see where I made mistakes. My wife wants me to be her lover. She wants me to be strong and manly. She wants me to initiate sexual activities as a lover would. So I try to do all that. She is not naturally dominant. Being in charge 24/7 is not on her agenda. Given that, there is a lot of territory that we can share. I will elaborate.

We share love, companionship, closeness, interests, so the situation is prime for occasionally each of us giving to the other. Whether for love, sex, or duty, it does not matter. For example, she is not a sadist, but she is perfectly happy to whip my ass until it shows very distinct marks. Sometimes for fun, sometimes for her own enjoyment, sometimes because she thinks that I would appreciate the attention. This is not necessarily FLR. It is just playing in the bedroom. But at the same time I understand that if I don’t fold and put away the freshly laundered clothes, my ass will sting. See for example Punishment For The Crime. Well, my ass will probably sting anyway, but that is not the point. Now, that is FLR!

We have resolved our issues. (1) I am and will remain horny regardless of what she does or does not do to or for me. (2) I will serve her regardless of what she does or does not do to or for me. (3) She enjoys my service in the bedroom, in the car, or in any public or private place. (4) She appreciates my keeping the house in top shape.

She is safe in knowing that I am hers to use and to love. She knows that I am her protector, and her safe harbor in all circumstances. I am very comfortable with that. She needs not perform a role at any time. Yet she feels good about giving me little pleasures often, great pleasures from time to time, and discipline when she thinks it necessary. I may be disappointed with the degree or frequency, but that is just my own failure.

My real message here is that my expectation of how she should behave as a dominant woman will remain as a wish. She will do as much or as little as she wants, and I am fine with that. I may not get some of my fantasies acted out, but let’s get real. Unless I pay a professional, I will have to settle for some plain loving relationship with my wife.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Taking Control

MW is able to take and remain in control when all is well, and there is no contention from me, or irritating circumstances from all around us. Ours is a nurturing FLR, the nurturing part is mainly from me. It is because I want it so much, and she is generous enough to provide it when all is well.

The ways that we get derailed are basically caused by two things. First, there is her tendency to crash occasionally due to external pressures or hormonal imbalance. That takes her mind off FLR, just to fix things. This is a natural defense mechanism that nobody should hold against her. Second, given that she is not naturally dominant, any perceived challenge to her authority tends to cause her to back off and then hold a grudge until the situation is resolved to her satisfaction. This is mostly my fault, because I am the one who wants her to be in charge, whereas she would have been OK with being vanilla if I had not brought up my kinky desire for FLR. This is not saying that she does not enjoy being in charge in general. She loves it, she loves to use me, and she loves the apparent power that she has.

I have tried to work around the first problem by helping her to overcome the pressures of the particular situation. I have a lot of love invested in her, and so my support is a given. The problem here is that from time to time I am the one who triggers the crash. Even worse, there are times when I give her logical solutions, rather than what she needs. We work it out eventually, but the entire angst mitigation is wasted or at best, delayed. I need to be better at this. The problem will not go away, but my approach to handling it should improve.

The solution to the second problem is more in her realm. I can help by continually reassuring her that I mean to be her support group under all circumstances, and that she has complete authority over our relationship. I trust her to do the right thing, and to not do anything illegal or harmful. Everything else is not a consideration by me. It is all hers to resolve in any way that feels good for her.

She has power over me. I have been in love with her since we met many years ago. I have been lusting after her just as long. And, for the last several years, I have wanted to serve her as her consort, protector, and most of all, pet. The “pet” part is her favorite definition of who and what I am under our FLR. She takes care of her pet. She receives enjoyment from her pet. Her pet is dependent on her. Her pet is trained to do what she needs. Her pet is lower on the scale of importance than she is. Her pet exists to make her life more pleasurable.

Her pet being human, can take verbal, written, and physical cues about what she expects. He is not perfect, but he can learn. He is dedicated to be all that she wants him to be. This includes the vanilla husband obligations.

This is why she needs to feel comfortable about using her position for the benefit of both of us.

I ran across a passage in one of my favorite blogs, The writer, Kathy, made a statement that describes the situation with her husband, John. She describes him as her slave. If he is really that, it is by his choice. Here is the quote in pieces,

“When I snap my fingers, he drops to the ground. To me this is a very basic command that any submissive male should be taught by his wife.”

From my vantage as a submissive to MW this is a very desired conditioning. It has sexual, spiritual, and very practical implications. It does not demean me, at least in my opinion. I did agree to serve MW in any way that she wants me to serve, and this is trivial when compared to some other, mostly drudgery things. I get a thrill just writing about this, knowing (actually, wishing) that she can put me on my knees with a snap of her fingers.

“As a mistress you can use it any time, almost any place, for any purpose. If a man sta[r]ts to argue with you, a quick snap of the fingers puts him in his place.”
This is one of the tools that MW could use when there is even a hint of contention. My rendering of the restaurant scene in The Last Day of Her Vacation could have been handled using this. She could have snapped her fingers, and I would have gotten up from my chair and dropped to my knees before her. I can imagine the stares of the customers and the staff, and the amused curiosity of her two lady friends.
“If you want him out of the way, and you don't have a kennel, this command brings him to the floor. In that position John is required to be absolutely silent unless mistress asks a specific question. He is required to stay in that position, very still, until mistress allows him to rise.”
I consider this a holding pattern as is done for an aircraft that cannot land due to local conditions. It does not matter what the reason is, or how I feel about it. What matters is that she wants me to be on hold until further notice.

If she so desires, she could go out and do whatever she likes, and be back hours later. Meanwhile I would probably tire and just sit on the floor. But I would stay there, because I know that eventually she would be back and would release me. If subsequent punishment were involved, I would accept it, as I try to accept everything that she does. If I act angry because I think that the holding pattern was unjustified, she has the right to correct my attitude until I learn that her way is the right way.

It is strange that rationally I don’t want any of this, but I am thrilled to experience it. It is also strange that all this is supposed to be for her benefit, yet it is basically to thrill me at a primal level. I don’t dispute the object of the benefit or the thrill. If it works for both of us, we have a great FLR. If it is for only one of us, the relationship will not last. What we have is not perfect, but it seems to work for both of us.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Driver, Baggage Handler, etc., Concluded

Comments Concerning Postings …

I have said this before (I have said everything before: I tend to repeat myself) that many people don’t comment on postings when they think that the person has most of the problems solved. Saying something like, “That’s nice” is not constructive. However, when the posting person is in trouble, is puzzled or obviously misguided, or way out of line, etc., comments are offered in abundance.

I don’t wish anyone to think that I have it all figured out, and that MW and I are the perfect FLR couple (see Poster Couple for FLR ). We have problems on different levels, but we deal with them most of the time. This posting is a demonstration that all is not perfect between us, but in my dear wife’s words, “These annoyances will happen, and I do not believe there is anything we can do to avoid them. Does make life interesting though...doan-it?” My sentiments exactly.

The Last Day of Her Vacation

Monday morning, while parting with MW at the resort as I set out to head home she said, “You will wear Kali again when you return for me on Thursday.” Duly noted.

The few days between my leaving her to go home and the day of my rejoining MW on Thursday went like seconds. Not that I had any kind of fun, just that I was busy and before I knew it, it was Thursday morning. I was busy with chores outside, so I did not hear MW’s plaintive telephone call. In mid-sentence her cell phone quit (according to her later explanation), and she had no charger handy. She resorted to emailing our sons with instruction to call me and tell me to use Instant Message to contact her. One of my boys did call, and I happened to be in the house at the time. I installed IM on my computer, and did contact MW as soon as that was done. I immediately received a ton of messages.

By the tone of her communiqué she appeared to be very distressed. It appeared that she had problems handling her two rowdy friends. I responded, by saying, “I will send you email.” And that is where the trouble began.

In my email, among other things, I said, “I am willing to help you in any way, but please leave me out of any mystical ceremonies or activities. You will find me much more pleasant afterward.” I was referring to some activities that she was contemplating. Her response was, “…I won't bother you again.” I could tell that this was not good.

I got ready for the trip to join her, installed Kali, and left. Three hours later upon arrival at the resort Laura let me into the condo since she saw me through the window as I was approaching from my truck. We hugged and kissed (as usual), and I walked into the adjoining apartment to see MW. My reception was not as warm as I had hoped. This was when she told me that I signed my email to her with my full name. I have to admit that seeing my full name under an email message to her is neither romantic nor erotic.

However, I sent this email from my email account that is reserved for business. As usual, my signature using my full name was appended automatically. In may haste I neglected to conclude the message with a phrase proclaiming my eternal love to her. I am bad.

But that was not the real problem. She had experienced an episode of depression, likely brought on by stress, and this was just another burden imposed on her already thin layer of joy eroded by little annoyances. I assured her that I still loved her, and then asked whether it was all right for me to talk with her friends and explain why she had been avoiding them that day. I did that, and returned to her. We talked in private. In a short time she was back to her loving and lovely self, and all was well. We had a good evening.

Next morning I was up early, made coffee for myself while MW was still sleeping. I spent a couple of hours reading until she began to stir. I joined her in bed and shared her warm softness. She began to appreciate my hand gently playing with her skin. I asked her to lie face down so that I can do more. I gave her the kind of massage that she likes, which from time to time results in her taking pleasure from my tongue. The little guy was drooling in anticipation. I think that she may have been inhibited by the presence of her friends on the other side of the door, so we did not progress in that direction. Still, it was a lovely experience.

It was checkout time. The ladies packed, and I loaded all the luggage into two vehicles. After I checked us out, we agreed to meet at a place that they usually visit for one last pleasant outing before returning home. We had a good time. It was mid afternoon before we were ready to leave. Having missed lunch, they decided to eat first. After being seated at the restaurant, MW and I discussed what I would have for my meal. I chose one item from the menu. She suggested another as I was leaving to the restroom to wash my hands. When I returned the waitress was just completing the requests. I asked, “Have I ordered yet?” I was asking, really, whether MW had ordered my meal. She did, but it turned out to be one that I did not want. So, I told the waitress that I want to change it to what I originally chose. The reason does not matter, but I could tell by MW’s facial expression that I had just committed a blunder.

The meal went well, we joked and laughed. Afterward we parted company with the two ladies, and MW and I headed out of town toward high country, the way we usually travel home from this place. The route we chose avoided the somewhat boring, monotonous, and busy interstate highway. In a short time the temperature dropped twenty degrees due to the high elevation that we reached. Rugged mountains, tall pines, dramatic sunset made a pleasant drive. MW slept through most of it, since she had not had much sleep during the prior four days. We made a pit stop for refreshments after the sun set. I drove in the dark over the serpentine mountainous road enjoying the radio, coffee, and her company. At some point she said, “I love you.”

“I am glad to hear that,” was my response. I know that she would prefer to hear me say, “I love you too,” but I am always a little quirky, and seldom provide the accepted response. At least, I did not say what I often say, “That’s good, I love me too.”

“I appreciate that you always save my butt by snatching it out of the fire,” she continued. She was referring to situations that she prefers not to handle when I am there to do it. She added, “The only things I do for you in return are little things.”

“They are good,” I answered, “and it is OK by me if you do something big once in a while.”

We bantered a bit and felt good about the day. Arriving home late I had some problems with the Beast while trying to unload our gear. I took care of the animals while she did some other chores. After showering we retired to watch a movie.

In the morning I assumed that things were back to normal until she accused me, “You humiliated me with your refusal of my order in the restaurant.”

There was no point in my arguing. I did change her order. About my humiliating her, I just did not see that. I guess she felt embarrassed. Afterwards I found out that when she ordered for me, her friends asked whether I will go with it, and she assured them that I would. It turned out that I was not aware of this conversation, so I did change the order. If I had known, I would have eaten anything to save her embarrassment.

Basis of Power Exchange

I pontificated over this concept in More Anticipation of the Trip (see Power Exchange). The bottom line was that I cannot give her power, and she cannot take power from me. It is there to use as appropriate. Period.

Let’s take a hypothetical scenario of a business where I as an employee approach the owner’s wife, and say, “I want you to be the boss, do with me as you please. And, by the way, the badge of your power is this,” and I hand her some token. Hypothetically she takes the token and from time to time she exercises her power over me, using me in any way that she deems proper. Then some day I approach her, and take away the token. The meaning is, “I have taken back the power that I gave you. You are no longer boss.”

Does this make sense? It could be woven into a short story or a novel, but it cannot be real in the sense that a lowly employee cannot appoint a person to be boss. There are other ways, and this may be the worst. But this was a hypothetical scenario meant to illustrate my point. When MW and I agreed to live a FLR, I had one reason to submit to her rule: I wished to serve a deserving woman. This one reason may have been complex, but it is summed up nicely as this: she is a woman, she has raised our children and helped me through adversity, she is my wife, and I love her. Oh yes, and there is also her taking charge of sex. All that holds true today, hence, we are still in an FLR. But “I did not give her the power over me.” I simply asked her to take charge of anything with which she would feel comfortable. I set no limits and imposed no conditions.

I admit that I am not the perfect submissive to her, assuming that I could define the role. I try to be good, and I fail. But I don’t fail out of pride, selfishness, misplaced propriety, etc. I fail because I am human, and imperfect. I cannot read her mind, I feel differently about things. I feel good when she feels good. I feel bad when I know that she is not satisfied with me, like when I was driving to the resort this last time. I knew that I did the wrong thing for her.

There is a difficulty here. I have said before that she is not a naturally dominant female. It appears that she may take the hypothetical scenario above literally, that is, “I gave her the power over me, and at some point I snatched it out of her hand without warning.” This is not logical, and she knows it. Is it rational? We are getting into the fringes of a concept that may defy definition. I just wish that she would choose a way to handle a situation positively, rather than just react and retreat. If she wants the power, it is hers. It’s not mine to give or take. If she has a grievance, she should confront the cause and do something positive to work out a satisfactory solution. I am willing. I may not like the method or the result, but I am in this relationship for life, and I support her regardless of my occasionally grumpy attitude.

The single assessment of the restaurant situation is this. Due to my absence I was not aware of her attempted demonstration of her power over me, and I blew it by changing the order. She could, and I sincerely wish that she had, stopped me. I wish that she had said, “I have already ordered the other meal, and that is what you will have.” Had she done that, I would have said, “Of course.” All would have been well.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Driver, Baggage Handler, etc.

I mentioned earlier that MW had reserved a few days’ stay at a nearby resort for herself and two lady friends. Her purpose is to give these two females a chance to relax, something that they would not do themselves. The resorts that she arranges are not extravagant by any expectation, but they are way above the average hotel or condominium. They are usually in picturesque setting, mostly out of the city, and are well serviced with respect to cleaning and other amenities. The staff is accommodating, there are activities available, and usually beautiful scenery to see and visit.

Yesterday morning, after I finished my chores, I was expected to load MW’s luggage into the Beast. When done, we waited till noon to begin the trip. I showered and put on my traveling clothes. As I was leaving the bedroom MW waylaid me and pointed to the MCD (AKA, “Kali’s Teeth Bracelet) that she left on a silver tray on the bed.

I have mentioned this device before in We Are Playing Again. It looks innocent, but you just have to be there. It was obvious that she expected me to put it where it belonged. As she watched I installed it and snipped the extraneous end of the plastic tie. I also slipped the small side cutters into my pocket after I pulled up my pants again.

MW does not like to drive. Whenever I am available she has me to drive her car. She also likes to take a lot of baggage. Not so much as too many clothes, but an eclectic assortment of items that relate to what she does at home, and what she likes to do when that is all she has to do. Over the years she has streamlined her options, and they are now down to a couple of big items, such as suitcases, and several smaller bags.

After handling some chores in town, we headed to her friend Beatrice’s condo. Her friends live, with respect to us, at points of a triangle whose sides are on the order of 30 to 50 miles. Upon arrival I was “asked” to bring up some items from Beatrice’s car, which I did. After that I carried and loaded several bags and boxes into the Beast. Beatrice was to drive her car to Laura’s house, from where the two of them would travel to the resort to join MW and me.

MW and I set off toward our target, and had a pleasant drive. I did a lot of fidgeting because of the device on my very private part. Normally, in my natural state I can live with it, hardly know that it is there. But those rows of evil little teeth can cause pain from mild to severe. “How? you might ask.” Well, she can squeeze it, hit it with a crop, or play with my tits, and a lot of other things. Once the little guy erects, he is relentlessly determined to cause me pain. But that was not the case this time. I wore tight undershorts with tight Levi’s while sitting in a vehicle with seat belt on for a couple of hours. After a while fidgeting was justifiable.

We made one pit stop where I could adjust the works so it did not hurt so much, and then moved on toward our destination. Upon arrival we checked in, and drove to our two-bedroom unit with a studio apartment. Beatrice and Laura were there already. After messing with the magnetic keys for a while we called the host to send someone over to open the studio where MW and I were to stay. The others were to share the main floor.

Meanwhile I moved in the luggage, although Beatrice was very kind to move most of hers into the unit during this time.

Once in, the ladies decided to implement their plan to go to town for groceries to last for the week. MW knew already that I just wanted to relax, so she graciously allowed me to stay. She even suggested that I have a drink. That was fine with me. The three of them left in Laura’s SUV. I poured myself a double Scotch, took off my shoes, and settled down with a book. Upon finishing the Scotch I poured some dry white wine, and then checked the place around the building. I found where the barbecue area was, and where MW and I could sit early in the morning to watch the stars and satellites. I also took some pictures of the of which I show one.

The second hour of their departure came and went. By this time I had been up and active for seventeen hours, and without a meal for the last eight. I felt annoyance gnawing in my empty stomach. I had more wine.

Some three hours after their leaving they returned. MW looked a little apprehensive as she approached me. I must have looked pissed. After some verbal exchange she said, “Please don’t show your anger with them.” I knew exactly what she meant. She was sweet enough to offer to fix me a plate of food. I declined, explaining that, if they were to have dinner together, I would be happy to eat with them. At that point all was well. Sort of …

Each lady bought her own delicatessen food and other items, and the dining room table was covered with deliciousness. And I am not referring to the participating ladies at this point. The food was good, and I think I may have been convincing in my pleasant demeanor. After some red wine I was really all right.

The evening wore on, and I did not volunteer my cleanup services. MW did not force it, so I excused myself to retire. MW followed me into the studio later. She mentioned that she will attend to my ass, no matter how late she decides to come to bed. I accepted that, since we both signed up to her being right no matter what, and then maybe ask questions later.

I showered, and went to bed. Passed out real soon. She came in at some point, and I knew that she was going to whip me with the little metallic flogger. The one that is essentially silent if we ignore the sounds I make. She may have felt guilty, for she let me go back to sleep.

I think it was around midnight when she returned to join me. She grabbed the MCD-clad little guy and I gasped in pain. He was at his best. “Oh my,” she commented. “Would he like to be released?”

“I don’t know what he thinks, but I would very much appreciate it.”

“Then cut it off. Where is the cutter?”

“In my pants’ pocket.”

I assumed that she meant to cut the plastic tie, not the little guy. I got up to get the tool, and came over to her to see as I snipped it. The pain was momentarily overwhelming, but not lasting. I thanked her, and we lay down on the bed. She turned to me, and drew my face to her wondrous breasts.

I slept fairly well, but was up by 3:15, ready to face the day. The problem was the one-room accommodation. She was still in bed, and I was trying to make coffee for myself in the kitchenette. With all sounds quiet, any noise I made was loud. At some point I disturbed her enough where she asked me what the noise was. Being very careful, I managed to make coffee, set up my computer in the dark, and sat down to do some work.

Just before five she woke again, and we talked. I made coffee for both of us, put on some warm clothes, and went outside to see stars as we sipped coffee. Later on I set up the computer to connect to the Internet, and showed her how to put on a show using the pictures on a CD and a USB device. She prepared breakfast of some excellent deli items while I made coffee. After breakfast we talked, but we both knew that I had to leave. Her friends were still sleeping as we parted after my kissing the inside of her right thigh. I would have loved to stay and do more, but knew that the situation was not ready for that.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Her Pleasure

Who Gives Pleasure to Whom?

A man who lives to serve a woman can get pleasure from giving her pleasure. This is why I maintain, “There is no selfless serving by a male.” He always gets something out of it.

The concept can be explained in terms of the yin and yang. Yin being basically the female or the devotion to the female, and Yang being the male or his offer of this devotion. I hesitate to get too deeply into this, because I don’t have the necessary learning to support my assertion. It would also be unproductive to get off the subject. The bottom line is, “It is my pleasure to give her pleasure, and I don’t feel bad about being so selfish.” In fact, I feel very good about it. I could do it every day for the rest of my life.

I know that there are some stylized D/S relationships where the man is not supposed to get any pleasure out of it, but ours is not it. We both want to be pleasured, even if it is only through my service. I think that the relationship will survive only if each partner (out of two or more) gets roughly equal amount of pleasure out of it.

About Being Horny …

If some unbiased observer were to describe me with respect to my libido, he or she could call me a horny bastard, and would be absolutely correct. Although I am able to concentrate on my immediate task, even plan long-term tasks, this trait is ever present. I can walk into the dregs of society (as I have while in law enforcement), and find some female who stands out among them in a good way. She may not be cocktail-party quality, but would be passable in, say, at a local hardware store’s plumbing section. What I am saying is, I am not looking for perfection. If I occasionally find perfection, it gives me feelings of inadequacy. So, I would rather deal with less than perfect, but satisfactory outcome. I am not talking of personal beauty here, rather, situations. I love to have a good time, and really don’t long for the perfect time. In retrospect some experiences I have had I considered perfect, but only upon reflection on the experience. During the experience perfection was not an issue.

This condition of mine may be a chromosome thing. With men in general it does not take much to be pleased by a female. My wife can please me in a seemingly unbounded ways, and most of it takes little effort. It does take some thought and imagination, however. Almost any attention from her is good, even if my ass hurts afterward.

My Wife Requires Perfection

This darling woman thrives on perfection. She goes out of her way to make everything she does or experiences perfect. It is great.

We can have a home-cooked hamburger, for example. We sit at the table with all the ingredients within reach. I poke a fork into a patty and drop it onto my plate. I scoop some sliced onions, tomatoes, and a jalapeno pepper next to it. I may squirt some barbecue sauce on top of the meat, grab a slice of sourdough bread, and I am ready to eat it with my knife and fork, taking bites out of the bread.

Not so MW. She slices a bun or some other whole-wheat carrier, and puts it on her plate. It is followed by a beef patty subsequently covered with mayonnaise and ketchup. Over that a slice of lettuce, and sliced tomatoes and onion are placed. Pickle slices are next. And so on …

I am half done eating before she puts the other half of the bun on top, and is poised to take a bite. I would have to unhinge my jaws to be able to bite through that. She, on the other hand, has had a lifetime of perfect hamburgers, so it seems so effortless for her to eat it while holding it between two hands. Only sometimes do I need to dab her chin to remove the juices. That is perfection. Whereas in my case, close enough.

That is the way it is with sex for both of us. She wants it perfect, I want it close enough. Consequently, unless the setup is perfect, sex may be postponed until perfection is achieved. Based on this, I conclude that the quantity suffers. But that is just my male chromosome talking.

From time to time I step into perfection inadvertently. We seldom get lucky just by serious planning. For example, the day before yesterday she told me, “Tomorrow evening you will wear the signaling device (see Signaling Device). I will summon you when I need you.”

Well, “Tomorrow” was yesterday. After dinner I took care of the dishes while she went to shower, and such. She mentioned that she might be viewing some material of prurient nature, and that I should not bother her. Fine. I showered, put on the device, and sat down with my computer. Oh, I was also wearing a CB3000 that she had me put on earlier in the day.

At some point I got zapped in the private parts. That was her way to summon me. I hastened to the bedroom where I found her on the bed au naturel. That condition of hers always impresses me favorably, and the little guy began to fill the already tight space allowed to him by MW. She presented her backside to me, and I was ready to work. To make sure that my attention is fully focused on her, she “asked” me to bring tit clamps. I did, and she installed them. On my tits.

Well, you know, my attention was on her, but also on the immediate pain. I did my duty, and enjoyed it very much. I worked on her front side next with similar results. Apparently this was a perfect setup for her. She made it possible for me to put my tongue to work.

I am a very conscientious worker when it comes to this particular chore. I guess her earlier viewing of some videos helped also. With my fingers getting into the act, she soon had her pleasure. A few times. Then she was done with me.

I savored her scent on my face and in my nose. It would not have taken much to get me off, but that was not on her agenda. After she calmed down I asked whether she wanted her leg and feet massage with the lotion. She did, so I did.

Afterward we watched something on a DVD. We had dessert. I had tea to try to keep me awake. The tea may have helped, but not for long. I don’t remember what caused it or how it happened, but she began to gently whip the little guy, who was inside the cage, and the boys, with the little metallic flogger (see Flogger). I am as appreciative as the next guy when it comes to getting all that attention, but once in a while some thin skin was caught between the beads and the hard plastic of the cage, and I yelled. Her comment was something like, “You are lucky I am being gentle.” She got tired of it after a while, and I went to sleep.

This morning, after I was done with my work, she watched me approaching in my natural state. She asked about the damages. There were a dozen or so small cuts and contusions, but all were healing just fine. She said, “See, I do care about you!” She can be very kind.