Blue Balls, Chastity, etc.

There is this myth of “blue balls”. I am somewhat amused and just a bit bored when reading some man’s writing about the subject. He describes “swollen balls”, “aching balls”, “constant erection”, and so on. It is even worse when a woman is writing, and she assumes the symptoms based on the writings of men before. Contrary to fables, a normal man does not go through life with blue balls, constant erections, or constant pain because of lack of frequent orgasms. He may crave sex, but I just don’t see the pain.

I admit that I have never had the urge to masturbate, or copulate, several times a day. Well at least, not after the first or second orgasm of the day. I am sure some men have had the urge, but I doubt that they are the norm. I had the opportunity to have several orgasms in a day early in my marriage. Everything and everybody was ready, willing, and able. I did. After that, I could not keep up the practice or an erection for even another day. I needed to be recharged before I could pick up the pace again.

I don’t want to dwell on my own [in]adequacy, so I will just say that three or four times a week would suffice, even satisfy me. I could live with that. I would love to live with that. Now, if I were forced to …. But that is another subject.

Alas, I don’t get it three or four times a week. My wife is not that sexually charged, and she does not feel compelled to “do me” just so I get my frequent satisfaction. That leaves me with the option of satisfying myself without her. In a way that is not a bad thing. I am still attentive to her, regardless of the myth of “Orgasm denial will make a husband like a boy friend”. There is some truth to that, but trust me on this: it is not a universal truth. I can have an orgasm, and be just as attentive to my wife as I was before. On the other hand, if I were an asshole after orgasm, I would remain an asshole while horny. Being an asshole is a chosen attitude, not a matter of orgasm.

Being attentive to my wife is a matter of motivation. I don’t want her to ever think that getting me off will cause me to become a slob. I would do anything to prove that to her.

So why don’t I satisfy myself often? Good question. One answer is, “I don’t want to cheat on her.” Yes, I know, in view of the above, would she know? Would she care? I don’t know. The other answer is, “I want to be sure that if or when she wants me erect, I can perform.” I don’t feel inadequate, but there have been times when it took me twenty or so minutes before I could get it up again after a strenuous sexual encounter with her. I guess maybe she never really challenged me, so I can’t be sure.

In a way I think that I am wasting my opportunities. She does not need to use my tool often. So if I use it, does it take anything away from her? After all, this is not a limited resource except very temporarily. I am sure that I could get her off orally immediately after I got mine, so that is not an issue either.

I also know that when one does not use some body part, it atrophies. I am talking about muscles, but the subject may cover sexual organs as well. I don’t mean that my cock will go away, just that it may become a single-use object, and orgasm is not the one. What I say here is not really in support of the frequent male fantasy of milking. Just a matter of maintenance of a seldom used organ.

To add some selfishness to the issue, I ask, “What is the harm in my self satisfaction between the times that my wife needs and wants me to perform?” It would feel good. I would not blame her for not doing it for me, since not doing it for me is already a fact [see Ignore and Denial (I&D)]. So, if I were to whack off a few times a week, and get back into practice of frequent orgasms, would that hurt anyone?

The above question is moot for those men who are into female induced orgasm denial. Whether or not they participate voluntarily, the fact remains: physical barrier to doing his thing. Much of the writing out there with respect to chastity and orgasm denial is wishful thinking and outright fantasy by men. Those who are really into it are directly self-imposed or through a hired key-holder. Others asked for it from their partner who grudgingly went along with it. In a few cases it turns out to the advantage of the female or male key-holder, but usually it us just to satisfy the would-be chaste man’s cravings.

My wife and I have played with forced chastity. It is great turn on for me. She seems ambivalent, probably just trying to give me a good time. My chastity in a device never lasts more than a week or so for various reasons, none of which have to do with her trying to keep me chaste. I am chaste because she wants me to be chaste. Case closed. No device is required. After all that, I still wonder why I am not into frequent self-gratification.

As much as I am intrigued by chastity devices, I find them totally useless on the long run, unless there is someone other than the chaste man who benefits from it. And there is the rub. If a woman (or man) has to go out of her way to keep a man chaste via a device, and maintain that device, it seems to me that it is not working its (assumed) intended purpose.

If the would-be chaste man needs a device to keep him from messing with other people, he should have his thing whacked off, or his butt kicked out of the relationship.

On the other hand, if the idea of the device is a turn on for both partners, then go for it! That is the only situation that I find viable for the use of a device to enforce chastity.

Any other is just playing games for the benefit of one person or the other, and it is temporary. A bolt cutter or even a pair of pliers will remove the device without the need for a key. Sheesh! I should not dispel myths. People will hate me for it.

Nuclear Spring. Sort of ...

During most of Christmas day she was avoiding me, so I was avoiding her back. In the evening she said something like, “If you are determined to avoid and ignore me, then I will remove myself.” She then moved out of our bedroom into a spare room downstairs. What moving out entailed is not being in our huge bed when we usually settle down for the night.

Meanwhile I stayed with my reading and listening at high volume to soul-crushing love songs from my music library. Thoughts of harming myself kept popping up. I got royally drunk. Not to the extent of falling down, but enough to feel really sorry for myself.

Then I started to feel sorry for my sweetheart. At that point it did not take me long to go to her. I asked her to please allow me to be with her again. I admitted that I made a mistake, and that I was anxious to do anything to correct it and to make up for it.

She was very gracious. Aside from feeling perhaps as bad as I, she admitted that she wanted to be rescued from her own folly. She knew that she backed herself into a corner, and said that I did the right thing by apologizing and not holding her reaction to “no Christmas gift” against her. I was too happy to avoid taking a chance on elaborating on my own stupidity, so I just kissed her all over, and asked her to come back to our bed.

Later in bed it was a magical healing time. We did not have sex, but I understood that she was not only the catalyst but the main ingredient in the compound which we tried to make: she the queen, I her servant and totally committed lover.

It has been some days now. The nuclear winter may be waning into the possibility of a spring. It is hard to say. I have not made amends, and I don’t yet know what it will take. She is noncommittal about where we are heading. She is close, but there is not even a hint of sex. Then again, we have not had sex for a while, so that is not unusual. As to where I stand (or kneel) it remains to be seen.

I have received encouraging comments from some ladies of knowledge in female domination, and I will take them seriously. You can see these comments on my prior post. But this situation is not in the realm of dominance, or FLR. This has to do with the Men/Women Mars/Venus thing. I know that I cannot give up and think like a woman. That is because I have balls. I am wired in a different way. But, given an incentive, and this may be one, I can create a fantasy scenario where I pretend to be a woman, and ask myself, “One woman to another, what would you mean when you say no?” Maybe I will get an insight into that wonderful place that creates the center of my being.

I could use some help. Anyone?

When a Woman Says “No” She Means “Yes”

There have been court cases demonstrating, or trying to demonstrate this issue. They were usually over sexual harassment, and in some cases rape. Well, don’t get excited. This post is not about either in particular “No means yes” scenario. It is about another, which is not illegal, but perhaps it should be.

MW and I discussed the annual hassle of the obligatory Christmas presents. We agreed to give no presents except to the people whose name we drew from a basket in our last family get-together. We bought the items we decided to give as gifts, and the targets of our giving were happy with it. That left Christmas morning without a gift for MW.

Have you read about nuclear winter? It gives you an idea.

The problem is bigger than any apology can undo. Hell, I could die, and that would not undo the damage, just make it worse. So I will try not to die just yet. But the idea is tempting.

I don't mean to be destructive, but, you know, if I am not here to deal with it who gives a shit? Still, I just don't want to leave a mess. I have dealt with too many in my background in law enforcement. Shit. This is pitiful.

We don’t have a doghouse as such, so I will not be joining our two mutts tonight. Maybe. Maybe I will be told to sleep with them anyway. Of course, that will not fix my thorough misunderstanding of the word “No”, but at least it will excise it from my vocabulary.

Self-flagellation will not work either. It would hurt like hell, and she might not care even if she noticed it. Maybe I can just stay on as the servant who takes care of nasty, undesirable chores. Yes, I think I will do that. The problem is, I don’t know where I stand or kneel with respect to her. If she wants any of my service, how can I provide it with this totally impersonal relationship into which I fell? Or is there a relationship left?

This may be my last post. After all, if she is not relating, this is no longer an FLR.

Fried Zucchini Concluded

The Friday arrived when we were planning to do some business in town. The plan was open, but most definitely included fried zucchini. I had our vehicle in the driveway ready to go, after which I walked into the bedroom to take a shower. MW was already dressed and ready. I noticed a little device laid out on the bed I did not say anything, figuring that she just left it there while she was putting away some clutter.

Yeah, right. As soon as she was aware of me, she said, “Lean over the bed, pet. I need to re-qualify with this thing. We have not used it in a while.”

I knew better than to argue, so I leaned over the bed exposing my back to her.


This little device (I don’t know what in specific I should call it) is not big. But as far as small flagellators go, it packs quite a wallop. The handle is 15 inches long. I don't think that the device is meant to be wielded in a vigorous manner. Those metal beads have weight, and the string of them wraps around any curve. When they fall, and are stopped by the target, (my butt), I can imagine what shotgun pellets would feel at fifty feet. But she is very kind, and was just playing.

While doing her thing on my butt she commented on the instant welts and discoloration. I am sure that she was enjoying it more than I. After all, she had a better view of the results, and all I had was the pain. After a few whacks she stopped to examine the damage. Apparently satisfied, she released me to my shower.

I drove us to our destination and waited in our comfortable vehicle for the next two hours while she conducted her business. I had a good book to read, and interesting people to watch, so my time was not unpleasant. After she was done, we did some more errands, and headed for the restaurant. We got a table right away. She, as usual, ordered the meal. When the waitress, a Big Beautiful Woman, asked what I would have for a drink, I answered, “Water.” The BBW was puzzled only a second. Then as she looked at MW, she commented, "Oh, the look" She left with a broad smile.

After the waitress left, MW admonished me for not ordering a Martini or at least some wine. This time I had my ass covered citing her earlier decision (see Fried Zucchini ) that I will not have wine this time.

She must have realized how good a boy I have been lately. After having received our salads, she insisted that I order the wine anyway. Who am I to argue with MW? I ordered a Shiraz. The fried zucchini took a while, but when it arrived, it was as perfect as we expected it.

The dinner was great as usual. The Shiraz was good. We shared a steak and shrimp meal with a lot of good side dishes. We over-ate a bit, but were happy with the whole episode.

When dinner was over the sky was dark, which was what MW wanted. After we entered the residential section off the expressway we enjoyed the colorful Christmas lights displayed on most houses for miles. I think that MW was happy with my performance, at least this time.

Fried Zucchini

We have two favorite restaurants that are part of a chain. We usually visit one or the other in nearby cities depending on convenience. The food, service, and the atmosphere are always good. Given that the prices are also good, we stay with these two restaurants much of the time, unless we are traveling.

One item on the menu is an appetizer, “fried zucchini”. The sexy vegetable is sliced in round pieces, dipped in batter, and fried in oil. The pieces don’t soak up much oil, so other than the imparted flavor to the batter coating the inside is just barely cooked. We dip it in their specialty cucumber sauce and enjoy it much. If MW does not have fried zucchini prior to her meal, she is not happy. If she is not happy, nobody is happy.

A few days ago we were running some errands in town. As we were heading home she alluded to her favorite appetizer. I made the mistake of pointing out to her our cash flow problem. In what I call typical female fashion, she told me in not so many words that I am an insensitive bore, and I should forget about her zucchini. I don’t think she meant only the fried vegetable. So we went home without stopping for the meal.

Meanwhile we had business to attend in town planned for Friday. I suggested that on the way home we have dinner there. She did not complain. We will see.

When I proposed posting Owning And Training A Male Slave She said in an email, “How much did you waste on this? Would some fried zucchini have cost less?”

I sort of forgot to answer her email. After having posted the above, she sent me another email in which she said, “I have asked you how much this book cost. You have not answered. … You get no wine at the restaurant on Friday.”

I did respond this time, “$19.98.”

If that is all the punishment I am to receive I can’t complain. Of course, she can and will do (or not do) other things, but those will happen regardless of the restaurant situation.

Owning And Training A Male Slave

The Book Or The Blog?

Which came first: the book or the blog?

All right people, I have sacrificed my valuable time and effort to critique the Owning and Training a Male Slave, both the book and the blog. Yes, it was hard, took a while, I suffered, etc. And I did not sport a hardon all the time. Well, maybe part of the time.

There are several things wrong there. First, do we really need a how-to book on owning and training a male slave? Judging by a lot of writing out there, everybody has an opinion on how to do it. So here is another.

The blog is presented by Ingrid Bellemare assumed to be the female lifestyle dominant, yet the writing is from her slave’s point of view. Comments to comments, on the other hand, are from her. What does this mean?

Her slave’s induction into non-consensual slavery was supposed to take place many years ago, yet the blog showed up only this year. This may be explained as support for her book. Yeah, that’s it.

Her slave’s recollection of exact words and action of many years ago (see Meeting Madame Ingrid – Part blah blah ..)

The motivation for involuntary slavery is plausible but unlikely. A man could walk away from it regardless of the assumed repercussions. The thing about being posted in gay web sites, etc., her blackmail thing is bunk.

The detail of servitude is just too damn tedious. It caters to one man’s mind. I challenge any would be female slave holder to go to the trouble of (1) Composing and writing the details, see Training, (2) Remembering the details of such explicit protocol in a real scenario, and (3) Staying with it for more than a day. Even if she had nothing else to do in the real world it would be challenge for a person with total recall. Why bother?

The detail of servitude, the stylized bowing, crawling, obeisance, punishment, schedule, etc., are not realistically supportable. After a few days they would be adjusted to something more workable, like, “When I speak to you, you pay attention,” or “When you disobey or are slow to respond, you will be …”

The pictures shown of this so-called slave are not of the man who was enslaved ten years ago (according to her he is now 55). Age takes its toll. These pictures are posed by a younger man who is in good shape, and probably works out regularly. In the book she again talks of his length of service, but there it had been fifteen years, not ten. So is he now 60?

He or she is changing the focus now to male chastity device to go with the current fad. This is not a female preoccupation regardless of the relationship. The chastity part was not mentioned as being required. It was only later, and not to any detail. But now it is.

The book does not go into the financial details of the transition to slavery, but the blog does at Part Four. I give her credit for covering this issue. If a man has nothing in life, no plan for the future, and nothing to lose, this sounds viable. However, as far as a contract goes, it is very simple-minded, just like the schmuck who would go with it: “Give me all you have and I will take care of you.” Right! You are out on your ass as soon as you can't serve. Forget your retirement fund. It never existed.

I could go on with the obvious holes in this so-called relationship, but I don’t really want to ruin it for her. This site was created to support the sale of a book of limited use. If it works, good for her. Or him.

About the book

The person who writes the book may have based the premise on his encounter with a professional domina. If the domina is or was real, and is portrayed more or less as she was, she hates men.

I rather think that the writer has changed the name, the venue, and the characters to fit his view of what he would like either as fantasy or wished-for reality.

In the introduction to the book she says,

“The book is for dominant Females only. It is not for the eyes of males and Mistresses are advised not to let their slaves see any part of it.”

Right. As if that will keep would-be male slaves from reading this. After all, I bought the thing.

I don’t object to the premise of the book: non-consensual male slavery. If a male wants to go with it, fine. If the female is willing to handle the nasty details, fine. Just don’t try to present fantasy as reality. It gives fantasy a bad reputation.

She later says,

“If people don't understand this behaviour and think I hate the male creature, they would be wrong. Women who are true believers in Female Domination and Female Supremacy must love the male creature or we would not train them to be what we want them to be. We love them and we rule them and we make them serve like the inferior creatures they are.”

Aside from the careless grammar, the rambling statement is less than convincing about loving “these inferior creatures”. Kind of like training an ass to pull a cart. Nothing but pure love.

About the favorite submissive male fantasy of orgasm denial she says,

"The slave must be allowed no access to his cock, permitted no masturbation or orgasm and, if possible, not even be allowed to obtain erection. He must learn that as a subservient he has no rights to any sexual pleasures and exists to provide sexual leasures for his Mistress. She can then further encourage her slave by offering say one orgasm per month but only if no more than a certain number of penalty points have been accrued by the slave in his general day to day servitude. There are no half measures where this is concerned so the woman who is serious about owning a real male slave should not shy away from total orgasm denial.”

Is this a very specific male fantasy? Or is it what a very strict male slave owner is willing to give her slave?

Then there is the matter of the slave wearing a butt plug. I am not fascinated with the idea, but I see that in most writings (I hesitate to call it literature) it is a man’s fantasy rather than a dominant woman’s desire to put a plug in a man’s butt and maintain it. Again, the question is, "Why whould she do it?" To please her non-consensual slave?

She talks about humiliation, and lists: verbal abuse, objectification, use as furniture, trampling, face slapping, face sitting, enemas, strap-on, water sports, cuckolding, crossdressing, sissification. A slave who has gone through all of what she presented already would not be humiliated by any of that. What I see here is the typical shopping list for the average submissive male who frequents pro dommes. I assume that many of these "humiliation scenarios" would not be offered by a lifestyle slave owner like Ingrid. It would be too much trouble just for the satisfaction of her non-consensual slave.

Then she offers “Orgasm and Milking.” Here we go again. Why would she offer that? Just put the slave in chastity and be done with it. Forever.

I will not go into the book any deeper. If you want it, pay this person the cost and read it. The book is not bad as far as a fantasy instruction manual goes.

A Bit of History

A few months ago I felt regretful about being instrumental in the demise of a former blog that I discussed at Is This Fake? That blog was entertaining while it lasted. This one may be based on some semblance of reality, so I hope that she does not go away in a huff after people find out that some of them have been duped and left nasty comments. It is a bit too late for her to change the blog in an attempt to plug the holes (well, maybe the buttholes), but we will wait and see.

Sunday Morning

Nothing unusual or extraordinary to post, but the regular and ordinary are special enough. I have been up for some hours. The full moon over the terrain makes its magnificence known to those who appreciate it. Almost light enough to read text by its light. The bluish white glow reflected from Earth to us is a gift that comes once a month. This time it is once a year because of the alignment of satellites, planets, and stars.

I am a voyeur, but not an expert of astronomy. I take pictures when uncommon alignments of planetary and stellar objects present a view. I appreciate grand views, and this is one.

Speaking of grand views, my sweet wife provided one. I brought coffee and we shared. But all along I had this huge erection in support of the views that she sported. Damn, she is sexy.

My cock is sort of average even when it is big. But I subscribe to the idea that “It is not what you have, but what you do with it.” Damn, I can do a lot with it, given the chance. The little guy who was not little just would not go away. Seeing my wife by my side was an enhancement that fed back on itself.

One of my favorite plans is to press my face onto her side. The piece of anatomy between her breast and her hip on one side. No tit to suck, no clit to pleasure, no feminine scent to worship. Just a place where I can put my face and not be the slut that I am. Just appreciate the female beauty of her, and reaffirm my devotion to her. God, I love it!

All right, I am the slut anyway, for she could do anything to me and I would enjoy it. But then, that is not my fault. After all, I am wired to respond to her beauty, and could not do otherwise.

Problem is that things come up. I did not shave within a few hours, my nose is too cold, my hands are too calloused. Whatever. I hold back, she gets no pleasure, I get no satisfaction. Everybody loses. There are promises. We will see. I will shave, at least getting prickly whiskers out of the way.

Involuntary Male Slavery

Where Fantasy Is [trying to run into] Reality

I have run into an interesting discussion at Involuntary Male Slavery It deals with an “e-book” by some person called Ingrid Bellemare. Every reader on this blog had an opinion. I decided to blow a few bucks on the potential thrill of exploring another person’s idea of male slavery. I read the book with the prurient interest that I usually have for a male serving a female. I am just wired that way. But I also have a mind, which is what this person who is writing the book assumes that I don’t have.

After seeing the responses to the blog I mentioned above, I started to read the book the second time. It was difficult because I have objections to almost everything this person states. Her assumptions and feelings are given as facts without any data to support. The pathetic blackmail scenario she proposes would fall apart in a second if the so-called slave decided to go with “The hell with it, I’m outta’ here!” The sparse “examples” she shows of her real acquaintances who are into this idea contradict themselves.

The person writing this book is not illiterate. I don’t condemn her for trying to make a living by selling fantasy. The scenario is barely plausible, but interesting to ponder. As for the legitimacy of her premise, that is fantasy. If she is female, and really feels that way, good for her. If she is male, all things said in the book follow as a totally impractical male fantasy. Good for him. And for those of us who bought the book, enjoy. Just don’t try to make this real.

Tuesday Evening

On a Tuesday evening we usually do what is necessary and then prepare to face Wednesday. But somehow today was different. During our morning coffee one of us mentioned “We have not had a barbecued steak in a long time.” Then the discussion continued on to the merits of thick versus thin steak, charcoal versus blowtorch grilling, driving to town or using some frozen animal matter we might have in the freezer. Although we eat a lot of green and cooked vegetables, we are not vegans. We have been known to eat a beast or two on occasion. This was to be one of those occasions.

The day went without major upheavals, and toward the evening I came into my barbecue mode without prompting from MW. I can burn a steak as well as the next guy, with or without FLR. My problem is that I don’t have the tools to do it right. Yeah, I know, bitch, bitch, bitch, excuses, etc.

The late afternoon came with the sun setting, the open blinds on the windows gathering less sunshine. It was getting cool where I sat in my natural state. MW said, “My steak is to be burned on the outside, raw on the inside. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I can manage anything as long as I have cooperation from the staff, my dear,” I answered.

I think that she did not really expect that answer, so we had a bit of whining and serious pain on my part as she adjusted my tits. Afterward I poured myself a generous portion of red wine, picked up my current soft cover novel, and collected the steaks on a tray to go down to my barbecue.

Our so-called back yard is mostly private. The barbecue area is totally secluded, so being in my natural state there is not an invitation for the Sheriff to ask why I am not wearing my skivvies.

On my way down our two goofy dogs took it upon themselves to help. Have you ever been licked from ankle to tits? Oh. I did not mean that as in your lover honing his or her tongue on your well-sculpted body. I meant, huge floppy-tongued mutts leaving wet streaks on your back, legs, arms, etc. that cool in the chill of the winter evening. I am kinky, but not that kinky, so that’s not what I am saying here. Just that these big goofs are humongous masses of furry love who don’t mind showing it, and as dogs are, they are very oral. Yes, I will have to shower later. And yes, there is no dissuading them other than being mean, which I can’t be with these guys. They are bundles of yucky love.

I carried the material down to the area where I could do the barbecue thing. My only “wear” was on my feet; otherwise I was depending on the sparse hair that I naturally grow to keep me from shivering. Well, it did not work. I shivered anyway with the dropping temperature. I gathered some kindling from the surrounding tree zone, and built a tent on top of the charcoal briquettes. After a couple of tries I got the fire going, and in ten or so minutes I had enough smoke and fire to begin working on MW’s steak. I was glad of the warmth near the barbecue for the evening came in earnest with cool temperatures. I did my duty for the two steaks while sipping my wine and reading my book intermittently. When MW’s steak was properly burned, I was happy to shut down the works and move my naked body back into the house where it was relatively warm.

By then MW had a lovely table set with steamed vegetables, baked potatoes, and green salad waiting. I poured more wine and we sat to begin eating. It was an excellent meal. She was happy with my production. At least I assumed, since she made no complaints.

After dinner she put away leftovers while I cleaned up the mess. What is not apparent, let alone obvious from all this is my state. We live in a temperate climate, but it does get chilly in the evening and during the night. Most normal folks wear clothes to compensate. I, on the other hand, am resigned to be in my natural state as long as I don’t have to deal with people on the outside. That means, the boys travel up to the maximum extent, the little guy practically disappears, and I resort to wearing goose bumps for warmth. MW would not prevent me from being warm, such as when we settle down for the evening. Just that a bit of discomfort between times would not really hurt (in her opinion), and she gets a kick out of it. So do I in a weird sort of way. It is not enough to get my rocks off, but I can’t complain. Even when she pays no attention to me I consider it as, “She is withholding her attention on purpose as part of her Ignore and Denial practice,” which is essential to our FLR.

Hatred and Sarcasm

Occasionally I run out of real-time FLR material, so I do my usual pontification on things that are controversial or at least, bothersome, to me. Here is one.

The theme of my blog is Female Led Relationship. Although some thoughts transcend FLR, almost everything that I post deals with that theme. Consequently, there are some ideas, issues, concepts that can be discussed only to demonstrate a point, but not be part of FLR. For example, I can discuss hatred. It came up in a prior post on Misogyny, and a few times before. But I insist that hatred cannot be part of a rational FLR. I have read of extreme cases where hatred was essential, but they are rare, and tend to give FLR a bad reputation. Somewhat close to hatred in meaning is sarcasm. The latter is less negative in intent, but still destructive.

I have been present in blatant expression of hatred while I was in the Army many years ago, and then later in law enforcement. Anyone can guess the details and would likely hit upon one or more of the issues. Sarcasm is more subtle and requires more thought and intelligence. I will give just one example from my Army days. One of my friends, a kind fellow, did a good deed for one of our mates. The recipient of this good deed responded with, “Thanks, sucker!”

I was within earshot of the exchange, and was very much offended by the ingrate’s comment. My friend, instead of punching the jerk, calmly replied, “That’s all right. I would do that for almost any son of a bitch.”

I have no use for sarcasm, but I admit that it was very appropriate in this instance.

I maintain that hate and sarcasm have no place in FLR. You might wonder why I bring up these two concepts. I have already dismissed hatred as an aberration that seldom comes up. But sarcasm is common. It has nothing to do with FLR specifically. Rather, sarcasm has to do with the person who uses it. I am not passing judgment. My intent is to warn members of benign FLR that sarcasm is destructive.

Why does one use sarcasm? What I have seen is that sarcasm is an attempt at extremely wry humor. The problem with it is that it is often used when it is clearly not necessary.

Humor alone can be, and is usually harmful to someone as the speaker utters it. Humor can be taken well by the object of the statement, but there is no guarantee that it will be so. Even benign humor can cause resentment and loss of mutual respect. Sarcasm is right there on the extreme end of humor.

I will condone sarcasm when it is against the very person who says it, knowing that he is the target of his own remark. It may be funny to an extent, and certainly forgivable, but it still detracts from someone’s stature in a relationship. If I say something sarcastic that demeans my stature, it also demeans the person to whom I submit. Even worse, if my dominant says something sarcastic that demeans me, it is a bad reflection on her choice of a submissive.

In conclusion I will state that using sarcasm is destructive under all circumstances. If the purpose is to hurt someone, then blatant expression of hatred and sarcasm are the tools. Any other time there are ways to express negative feelings (disillusionment, lack of satisfaction, anger, etc.) without being negative. If the purpose is to improve the situation, use anything but sarcasm. Even if punishment is meant, it should be done with a positive attitude. Positive approach never hurts a benign relationship. Negative approach does.

A Sunday Morning

I usually wear the signaling device in the morning. It allows MW to fetch me when she awakes after I had been up for hours usually. This morning was not different. She slept late for a number of reasons. She had worked hard the last two days. In addition, we had the family for a fantastic meal that she prepared for last evening, and we went to sleep late.

I felt the twinge beneath my balls, and knew that she was awake. The device is running out of juice, otherwise it would have been more of an awakening jolt. I quickly tippy-toed to the bedroom to see a beautiful ass waiting to be kissed. I did not waste any time making sure that it did. After that I went to the kitchen to make our morning coffee.

She chose to remain in bed for coffee. I opened the blinds on the south wall to allow the rising sun to warm us. There were clouds, so I turned on a couple of portable heaters to help the sun. After fetching the coffee I joined her. We talked as usual. Toward the end of my brew I mentioned a well-needed skin therapy. She replied that it was on her mind also. This is something that we cannot do when we watch the sunrise sitting in the living room. After dispatching the cups she shed her nightgown and lay on her side facing me.

You have to be a female connoisseur to appreciate the view. I happened to be one. The little guy immediately took attention as we joined skin to skin. I felt her all over, and she commented, “I expect a lot more of that this evening.” My knowing where that usually leads, I replied, “I am very much looking forward to it.”

She then added, “Even if I don’t insist, you do. You must be assertive.” That really got the little guy’s attention. One thing led to another, and I was on top with her spreading a pair of voluptuous thighs for me. I paused with a comment, “We can’t do this with the ring on.” I was referring to the wedding ring that the little guy wears. She said, “Well then, we should forget about this.”

I ignored her comment knowing that she was teasing. I had to tug a lot to get the ring off as it is tight even when the little guy is actually little, which he was not in this case.

We joined and I felt her with my all, slowly, lovingly, with tremendous pleasure. She played with my ON/OFF buttons, my hard little nibs that she knows will give me pleasurable pain. We stayed with that for a while until she said, “We will continue this later.” I withdrew and we lay side by side. I could not get enough of her loving charms. My hand was all over her lovely parts that it could reach.

We have a plan for this evening. If I succeed, she will have her pleasure as long and as much as she can take. It will be my pleasure to give her this.

Am I A Switch?

I could Dominate … To A Certain Extent

Some years ago MW and I were fooling around naked on the bed. I don’t know what compelled me, but I took her wrists and held them over her head in my right hand. I am strong, so I could do that. Getting on top, I had my left hand free to do what was necessary. I mounted her, and had my way with her. For all practical purposes, it appeared that she really got off on being forced. Of course, we did not do anything different from normal, just that I had her wrists confined. When it was over, we both felt good.

Some time later I brought up the situation to find out whether I should do similar things again. She was, at best, noncommittal. She said something like, “I may have faked it.” Even now I don’t know whether she faked it or not. To be on the safe side, I have not tried it again.

I have told MW a number of times that I have the skill, the will, and the commitment to serve her as her dominant, if she ever wants to experience being submissive. When I say this I experience a submissive feeling. The feelings are contradictory in a sense. Dominating a woman in order to serve her is a complex issue. I can visualize a number of scenarios to the smallest detail as she submits to my dominance.

I can see my putting her over my knees, and lovingly spanking her beautifully round buns with my bare hands. Her soft thighs and tummy feel great on my bare knees. I use my fingers to feel the sides of her breast, trace the muscles in her back, and savor the unique dimples just above her butt. She is turned on; her feminine aroma reaches my nostrils and gives me an erection. I put her down on the bed face down, and spread her things. She is wet, and I slide in easily from behind …

Of course, this has not happened. I am not really dominant in the bedroom, or anywhere else with her. What I am is a very sensitive dominant if or when she wants me to be. I know what pushes a submissive’s buttons, for I am one. I can be very emphatic imparting that to her. Even as a temporary dominant, I would be totally dedicated to give her pleasure. Perhaps that is what drives my need to do this.

In my own submission her pleasure is paramount. If I were to dominate her, that would not change. The only difference would be this: instead of her directing what happens next, she would be helpless to just simply experience and enjoy what happens next. The scenario, the extent of pain and pleasure that I impart, would be decided by me based on what I observe of her reaction. Ultimately she would remain in control.

In general I have a hard time accepting a woman being submissive in a D/S relationship. I feel too protective for women to condone it, even when I know for a fact that it is their preference. I happen to know a lovely lady who is that way (A Tantalizing Woman). She is happy with her submission to a trusted man. We exchange light-hearted comments from time to time. I believe she understands my view, and perhaps thinks that I am funny with my idea that women should not submit.

Not that any of this makes a difference, but I wonder: Am I a switch?

Women in Pornography

This is not obviously related to my being submissive or dominant, but it is close to the portrayal of submissive women, which I did bring up.

I run across pornography while searching for full feature movies with sexually charged themes. I have no use for pornography itself. The regular suck and fuck videos and pictures turn me off. There is a lot of female and male beauty that can be shown without getting so vulgar. As much as I love to see women in various stages of undress, I dislike explicit shots of their very private parts displayed in public. Photographs or videos of people with or without clothes can be beautiful, erotic, and very enticing. My objection is when they focus explicitly on genitals or anal areas as a means to grab one’s attention. The context and substance are missing.

Although I am curious, I believe that these shots cheapen and degrade the female beauty, and that sort of view should be reserved between two loving people. Even if she willingly submits to such photography, a woman is being exploited when portrayed doing oral sex, or any kind of sex for that matter. But, I know it is big business, and I am a minority. If these businesses depended on my financial support only, they would be gone in a second. Of course, I am not saying that this business should not exist. As long as there is a market for it, it will persist. I believe in free enterprise as long as we are not dealing with victims of exploitation.

As an attempt to redeem myself on this subject I want to say this. I love to see a fictional movie with a lot of sex between adults, especially including D/S, even when the women are submissive. I like to get involved with the characters, the story, and the plausibility of the portrayed sex. In context, sex is erotic and beautiful. But I find seeing sex just for its own sake cheap, and it is not my preference.

Am I a prude?

Maintenance Mode

I regret if I have disappointed some of you by not providing more FLR and D/S insight to our life lately. I would love to do so, but the inspiration for that is on hold.

Aside from the medical problems that I described, and which still remain to be resolved, MW has made two emergency trips to another state to help with urgent family matters. Her mind is busy dealing with what is happening and what is likely to happen, none having to do with our relationship.

She is going out of her way to involve the immediate family in our area to support them through the holidays. I do what I can for her in turn. It would be selfish of me to give her grief because I miss our formerly wonderful encounters.

We need to get through the obstacles put in our way by life. Some are inevitable, and we do what we are equipped to do. Others we can control, and we plan and execute as necessary. It may be a couple of months before we have some resolution on these problems. Meanwhile we support each other. Our love and resolve in FLR remains strong.

With the winter being here we miss sitting on the top deck watching the stars before dawn. It is cold enough now to have a portable heater in the living room as we wait for the sun to come trough the many windows to warm us. She sits in an easy chair. I sit at her feet on the floor. I am in my natural state as usual. I gaze at her beauty. She plays with my private parts using her foot. We sip thick strong coffee and talk about what bothers and pleases us, and the plans for the coming day and future. These times are always pleasantly constructive.

In the winter the sun comes up from southeast. I have the window blinds open to help warm the room. Upon sunrise we attend to breakfast and the pets. This is our winter morning custom.