She Is Playing Again

The Day Before Thanksgiving

She had hinted about things that were definitely sexual. I pretend to ignore them only because if I make an issue of it, and she does not deliver, then she feels guilty. This way she can rationalize that she did not really mean to do it at any specific time, so she is in the clear. It appeared that these things remained on her mind. In the evening as we were about to settle in to watch a movie she said, “Assume the position.” Being the good husband I leaned over the edge of the bed face down thereby presenting my bare ass to her.


I did not expect what she gave me, for in my limited intellect I had not done anything to warrant it. Nevertheless, she used a heavy paddle to have her way with my skinny butt. She is seldom severe, and this time, too, she stopped at two-dozen whacks of a medium nature. I was happy when she stopped. I was also happy with the attention, so I said, “Thank you Mistress.” Later on she checked the results, and commented on my rosy cheeks.

The next day I was at home doing some chores. After I came back into the house I got into my uniform when she ordered me, “Put on the CB2000. I like the looks of the CB3000, but your little guy is easier to keep clean in the 2000.”

It’s nice of her to be concerned. I put on the device and settled in to pay some bills.

She was not doing a full dinner this time; instead, we were going to have a feast at our son’s house. She prepared some “with-its” that were were to take along. I am her chauffeur, so as usual, I had to take the car out to the front yard in anticipation of the trip. After returning she said, “Switch the CB to the Kali.”

She does this because she seldom lets me go out wearing hard devices. A few times I did while I was on patrol, and felt very apprehensive. Wearing the Kali’s teeth bracelet is less obtrusive, but more insidious: it bites. I had it on only once while on patrol, and later explained to her that it won’t happen again. Imagine my getting out of a patrol car and trying to re-arrange the little guy to avoid the bite while I am approaching a driver just stopped for a traffic violation. It just was not professional.

Since we were on a holiday this time, that was not an issue, and she insisted that I am to receive the benefit of her stand-in. I chose the largest pair of pants I had to avoid the inevitable tightness and resulting discomfort as I drove us to our destination about 45 minutes away. I managed to survive the pre-dinner drinks, the dinner, and the subsequent conversations without indicating that my private parts were suffering. I must have been fidgeting a lot well into the evening, for MW decided that it was time to leave. Hallelujah!

On the way home she asked, “How are your sweet cheeks?”

“They are fine, thank you.”

“Not even tender?”

“No.”

“I guess I haven’t given you enough then.”

“I think it’s not just the quantity, but also the quality that may produce the effect,” I added in a wise guy like fashion that I later regretted.

After returning home I got into my uniform, which alleviated the confinement-induced pain of the little guy. Later on, before we went to bed, she said, “Let’s fix the quality of these spanks. Assume the position.”

I leaned over the bed as requested and waited for the pain. I did not have to wait long. She really put some force into it that time. I could not help but yelp. She is very kind, so she stopped after four good wallops with the heavy paddle.

I tried to go to sleep as she left for the living room to watch a movie. I knew that my sleep would be impossible with Kali still in place, but I knew better than to ask her to remove it.

She came to bed about two hours later, and asked me about the pain as if she did not know, “How are you doing?”

“I am trying to stay awake so that I don’t get a hard on so that I don’t have extreme pain.”

“Oh, that’s silly. Let’s just take the thing off.”

With her per mission I removed Kali and then thanked her. She paused on each of my tits pinching them in turn. She can cause instant but very sensuous pain that way. When it was over I slept well in a short time.

The Day After

The next day I was involved in some construction project in the morning. She said, “As soon as you quit, I want you to shave and put on the CB3000.”

The work was a pain in the ass, and I was tired enough to quit just before lunch. I shaved the boys, showered, and installed the CB. After presenting the package to her, she had me do some indoor chores, but gave me much of the afternoon off. In the evening she had me work on her legs and feet with a lotion, but nothing extraordinary happened. I was still wearing the device at bedtime. I noticed the ropes attached to the four corners of the bed blatantly displayed. I guessed their purpose, but said nothing. At the time I usually try to go to sleep she had me on my back, and attached a rope to my left ankle and to both wrists. I was not exactly four-pointed, for my right ankle was free, and there was a fair amount of slack in the ropes. Still, I was forced to remain on my back. She left again, and I was on my own. When she returned some hours later she asked, “How are you doing?”

I am not too sure that she was interested in my answer, for she turned over in bed away from me before I answered, “I’m OK.”

Around 2AM she was awake and checked me. She magnanimously released my right wrist from the rope. I asked, “What do I do when I need to get up in the morning?”

“We’ll deal with that then,” she replied.

At this point I could turn onto my left side and curl up in a comfortable position, so I was happy with it.

She was checking me at the time I usually get up. She removed my wrist restraint and told me to release the remaining rope on my left ankle. She again imparted that sensual pain to each of my already tender tits. Her fingers lingered in my pleasurable pain, and then let go. She said, “Go now. And put on the Device of Obedience once you are up.”

I got out of bed and went about my business. When I sat down with a cup of coffee, I installed the device also known as the signaling device. I have posted a picture of it earlier; here it is again behind the CB3000.

Around five she zapped me. I dropped what I was doing and went to see her. After a short discussion I set up her computer, and later made coffee for both of us. She let me remove the signaling device in order to preserve the small batteries on which it runs. The CB stayed on.

I Dislike Fakery

I have read a number of blogs that purported to be real. After a while I realized the ruse, and was willing to leave it alone, no longer being interested. What bothered me, however, was that some of the readers interacted with the so-called author as if they believed all that crap. I have exposed several fake blogs over the last three years. They are all defunct by now, for the authors gave up trying to be real.

Don’t take this wrong. I don’t give a damn what anybody writes: I don’t have to read it. But, as long as they invite my comments, well … you know.

I love fantasy. I do much of it. I love to read novels of fantasy. I even write them. What I dislike is when some upstart assumes that we are stupid enough to believe his stuff to be real.

There are many subjects dealing with sexual content that turn me on. One of them is cuckoldry. I am interested in cuckoldry for various reasons. I don’t want it to be part of my life, but I like to read about it. I like to read posts of those who are involved in it. I like to read novels using it as a theme. I find it an escape from my daily life that does no harm. What I don’t like, however, is anyone writing it as real when it is fake. It takes people of limited intelligence to try to pass off something real. It is a matter of time until someone comes along and challenges the author.

Here is an example of the fakery, and I quote from the blog:

"I remember a dream, a very vivid dream. It was one of those dreams you swear really happened. I was asleep on my bed, and Annie walked in. Although I was sleeping, I could see her. She was naked and beautiful. She said nothing as she climbed on the bed and sat on my face. I felt another presence on the bed. It was Aaron. He was kissing her. Cum flowed from her pussy into my mouth like water from a faucet. Huge, unnatural volumes of it. It tasted good, like real food. I was so hungry, and so happy at the seemingly unlimited supply of it. I remember thinking - in my dream - that it was impossible that she could have this much cum inside her. I hoped she never ran out. I was afraid that she would, and I would still be hungry."

Before I go all the way, I admit that I have not read the whole story. I am on page 13 of 22, so I may have some surprises coming to me. However, having gone this far I have formed conclusions already based on common sense. I will present that here. If you were to read The Real Story you would at first go with it as if it were real, sort of like reading a novel. The guy is a fairly good writer, but he quickly runs into gaps of reasoning, difficulty with sequential presentation, and ultimately, inconsistencies. In the story the participants are at least in their thirties, so we should assume that they have accumulated some wisdom.

Wrong!

I can list some of his bad decisions, but as you read it you can form your own conclusion. The scenario is this: the husband is the only one with a job. His wife has been screwing her boyfriend, and this schmuck of the husband goes along with it. He is responsible for paying all the bills, while the wife and boyfriend screw around and use him as a slave in sexual, monetary, and menial manner.

It is a nice fantasy for a would-be-cuck, but highly unrealistic. The wife is about to divorce him and marry the boyfriend who would move into their house. The boyfriend works, but would quit his job when he moves it. Her “former husband-to-be” is expected to remain in the household to pay the bills, do the housework and be a sex slave to the two of them. Whoa! ‘Tis the fodder of cuckold fantasies!

There is no mention of the future other than sex and slavery. Well, that should be a clue! The man’s job is obviously not one that earns him a lot, otherwise his wife would not want to divorce him. What happens when somebody gets sick or has some sort of accidental injury, or gets sued by avaricious people? Who will pay the bills? Does this schmuck of a husband think of his later years, as in, “will he serve these two useless carcasses until he dies at the age of 85?” Give me a fucking break! None of these asses think of the future. They think nothing of consequences. The scenario may be based on some real things, but it got out of hand early, and is, at page 9, a total fake. Yet he goes on. I regret that some people take it seriously and actually respond to his writing. Oh well, we have all been duped from time to time.

I enjoy reading a nice short story, or a novel. It can be real or fantasy, Fantasy is great as long as it is not purported to be real. Then I have real problem with it.

Wasted Chances

I am a poster boy for fucking up a good thing. I have wasted positions that I could have developed into better situations. Instead of doing that, I flipped them off, as if saying, “Hey, I’ll have dozens of this at my choosing”.


Well, I did have a few, but I have not had dozens. As time went on, I had fewer. Now I am down to what I can call tongue-in-cheek, "no options". Sure, I can still do some things, but not to the extent that were possible within the venue of before. What I mean is, “I fucked up in a big way every time”.

An unbiased observer would say, “That is a sign of being less than bright.” I hate to agree. Adequate, I am, but bright, apparently not. But these thoughts are about wasting options. Options are the multiple-choice of what you can waste if you don’t take them.

This post is not really about wasting options; rather, it is about wasting chances. Chances come once in a while, and you either take them or not. Now, there is where we all have something in common. The spectrum of this covers life in general. I don’t want to write a post the size of “War and Peace”, so I will limit the topic to sex.

“’Whoa!’ you say. Sex? So what else is new?”

To answer, or at least attempt to do so, sex is not new. Sex was here before you and I were conceived. Still, keeping in the spirit of modern comedy, “There are no old jokes, just old people who have heard them all.” For most of us sex is as we experience it, old or new. Then at some point we don’t experience it any more, and the problems begin. The question is “Why”.

You have to think back to the last time you had satisfying sex. What caused it? Did you set off the spark that gave you the thrill? Could you have just simply “not done” the deed and still experience the lustful result later?

Whatever it was, what if it did not happen? It would not have been your last sex thing obviously. The last one would have been before that chance (try to stay with me in this line of curvaceous reasoning). So you would have really missed the last one. In addition, you would also have missed all the others afterward that did not happen.

There is a bottom line: you never know which one is the last until you have no more. Than you think back, and you know.

If you think this post is all about sex you are wrong. I used sex to demonstrate what is on our mind. However, there are other things. There are issues that we avoid because we don’t know how to deal with them. Then, years later, the issues are moot on account of the other person involved is gone or dead. We stay alive and try to deal with the guilt as a result. But there is no resolution, since the other party is not able to participate. You cannot go back and beg forgiveness. As a result we have a festering pot of guilt that never goes away. It is because we waste our chances to do what was right at the time.

Don’t waste your chances. Do whatever is appropriate at the time, but don’t assume that you will have a chance to do it later. You won’t.

Limited Chances

My My Patriotic Friend and I were sharing some music and wine on a Sunday evening. Normally I would have been happy. Not this time. I was depressed. Things have been going wrong. Not in a big way, just not right, and I was expected to pick up the pieces. So I bitched about them,

"I miss doing things with her. You know, personal things that meant a lot to both of us, loaded with sex …” I commented to him.

He remained silent. I guess he figured that my statement did not warrant a response other than a nod. After a prolonged silence that even I determined to be too long under the circumstances, I added, “I just don’t want to hurt her by saying anything that would bring back the guilt. Not that she has anything to be guilty about. Just that, damn, she feels guilty about anything.”

He sipped his wine, and I did the same. The music at low volume went on, not really bolstering my well-being, rather, making me feel less capable of handling what went on.

After a long silence he began, “You’re not there yet, but will be. Wait till you must quit what you love to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you spend much of your life doing something that you love to do, you want to die doing it. Don’t you?”

I had to think about that. I understood his words, but the deeper meaning needed time for me to resolve into understandable quantities. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die doing anything. Yet, I know, that I will die as we all do. His words struck me at my core.

“Why are you telling me this?” His silence following my question began to really annoy me, so I went to get some more wine. Even after I returned he was still silent. I have great respect for him, so I held back from telling him that he was pissing me off.

“What you expect and what you receive will rarely coincide,” he finally continued.

“Oh really, I would never have guessed.”

“Your sarcasm aside, why are you disappointed then?”

“I hope,” I responded in barely more than a whimper.

“Hope is a nice sentiment, but is no more than that.”

I knew that already, but I needed his remark to bop me on the head to remember it.

He continued, “I wake up with memories of situations. I think of them during the day. I don’t miss an hour without wanting to be back there solving other people’s problems. I was on a constant high. I feel that my life is over because I am handicapped this way. I know it would come to an end, but not this way. I don’t expect people to understand. Maybe you do.”

“I understand. I am almost there. I just did not realize it,” I said with compassion.

My friend is still active, but he retired from law enforcement a few years ago. He knows more about right, wrong, guilt, compassion and bravery than I will ever know. He has helped more people than those who deserved it. But his time had come to reflect on it rather than continue. In that respect my current problems seem small. I still have a chance. His are limited.

A Gift From Mistress Wife

We have children, all by the same parents: us.

One of them is a precious daughter. We saw her borne, MW very much involved with the physical part, I more in a supporting mode.

We have watched her develop into a lovely little girl.

As she grew, she transformed into a thorny but attractive young woman.

Over the years she developed into a mature beautiful woman.

At this point her beauty is eternal.

Jumping to Conclusions

I almost always agree with Mistress Kathy’s blog. At The Colored Stick I agree to a certain extent, but I have a problem. I disagree when she says,

“Why it is that men have this natural need to be controlled?”

They don’t.

Some men do, but that is not the end of it. Some men feel satisfied being controlled by a system regardless of who the administrators or the rule makers are. Some are happy being controlled by other men. Some are happy being controlled by women. Some want to control. The same goes for women. The point of my objection is that men don’t have a natural need to be controlled! Some like to control, and will fight for it.

It is only the men who need to be controlled by women who “have this natural need”, which is a platitude.

I love to be controlled by a worthy woman. But I don’t necessarily want to be controlled by all women or by all or any men. I prefer to find my place and go with mutual agreements. I would have made a very bad slave in the ancient times.

I know that much of what we see in blogs and in fictional writing is not “logical conclusion based on facts”. Still, even a fictional story must be logical, otherwise it flops. The case in point here is that when we have a single demonstration of what works, it is illogical to extend it to others and expect it to work. In logic this means jumping from specific to general without a demonstrated rule. If it works with others, it is coincidence, and it is not necessarily because the assumptions were correct. No two relationships are the same. If one relationship works because of some agreed rules, it does not mean that others will.

I don't mean to lean on Mistress Kathy. Her blog is great, entertaining, instructive, and often exciting. But her case is just one out of many, and does not make rules.

Before The Dawn

As I said before, I am a hopeless frigging romantic. So, here it is, listen to one of my favorite pieces.

Before The Dawn - by Judas Priest


The video does not really go with the lyrics. The lyrics match the mood of the music. It's a piece by which to die. Here are the lyrics:

Before the dawn, I hear you whisper
In your sleep "Don't let the morning take him"
Outside the birds begin to call
As if to summon up my leaving

It's been a lifetime since I found someone

Since I found someone who would stay
I've waited too long, and now you're leaving
Oh please don't take it all away

It's been a lifetime since I found someone
Since I found someone who would stay
I've waited too long, and now you're leaving
Oh please don't take it all away

Before the dawn, I hear you whisper
In your sleep "Don't let the morning take him"

 

Size

If you think this piece of writing is tongue-in-cheek you may be right. I know I have said some about this subject, but it is time again, given my propensity for self-abuse. No, I don’t mean masturbation. Masturbation is not abuse. What I mean is willingness to be subjected to mistreatment by my MW. Generally we don’t do much, but when we do it is significant. Actually, when I say “we”, I mean “she” for I am only the recipient of her doing. Not that I complain.

The only reason I bring this up is that once in a while she gets into the mood of imposing locked chastity on me. As kinky as I am, I love it. That is, until it becomes a real pain in the ah … you know. Ok, you may call me a pussy, you may call me a coward. Hell, you may call me anything as long as it is not too vulgar under the circumstances. But I have a problem. I don’t know whether my problem is representative of men in general. I will elaborate, and let you decide.

I have posted pictures of the little guy and his alter ego, the big guy, but most were when he or the other was in his glory. You know, large as life, so to speak. The boys go with it, again, so to speak. It turns out that the pictures had been during times of temperate season when the boys hang loose, and the little guy is in his element.

However, there are times when the temperature drops, such as in winter, and being in uniform (my natural state) provides no shelter from the change of temperature. What I experience is twofold. First, the little guy practically disappears. If you looked, you could see some skin with a Prince Albert ring being most prominent. Second, the boys practically disappear also. I know they are there, but not to be fondled or viewed in general. Oh, they all would come back upon sufficient provocation (actually you might want to stand back so that you are not knocked over by the reaction). But as is, they look very unimpressive. Maybe later I will post a picture here, just that, I would be somewhat embarrassed about it, and I would have to post the real looks next to it just to maintain some dignity.

This brings me to the purpose of this post. As much as I like the CBT associated with the forced wearing of a so-called chastity device, it cannot be 24/7 for a long time without suffering real damage. My parts are just too variable in size: near zero to, well, you have seen them. So, forget about taking my measurement to fit a device.

I know, somebody will come up with still another “greatest chastity device” and charge a month’s wage for it. Whether I will buy it depends on what MW might think of it. Meanwhile I experiment in my workshop and hope that I don’t seriously hurt myself on the next prototype. MW has not had to call the firemen to use the "jaws of life" on my devices yet, but as you know, stuff can happen. Sheesh, I would hate to meet someone I know professionally under those circumstances. Wish me luck.

Update

I have decided to be generous and include some pictures to which I alluded above. The first picture below shows him in his most diminished state.

Those of you who are embarrassed about having a small cock (not that you should be) may feel superior looking at this. After all, this little guy is just barely there.

Here he is at half mast in warm weather.

Then there he is Somewhat handicapped but otherwise all there weighing in at seven inches from nose to tail. Not record breaking, but when you consider the difference in size between this and the first picture, you may realize the problem of defining "size" for chastity devices.

What Is Appropriate

First the disclaimer. I apologize for having borrowed these pictures from the internet. Although MW and I have done what is shown in the first picture many times, alas, we have had no camera men to commemorate the event. As a result, we don’t have a picture of us in this situation. The closest is at the top of my blog. In addition, I am not making rules here, just some comments.

In the spirit of a Female Led Relationship anything goes that the female wants. Given that, I have my preferences. Being on my knees serving her is totally appropriate. For example, look at the first picture.

If MW wants to do what I show in the second picture, it is entirely up to her. Even more, I would love to be the recipient. Just that, somehow it seems inappropriate unless it thrills her. Oh my! I could live with that. But don’t worry, she never does that, so we are back to the first picture as the appropriate thing to do.

Dominant or Domineering?

Please check the post at  Difference Between Being Dominant And Domineering. This woman has it figured out. I was going to comment on her post in length, but came to my usual conclusion that I can do it more justice if I elaborate on it on my blog. I give her credit for my inspiration on this subject.


The domineering, whiney, and bitching people seldom make a good impression on peers or subjects. If they are mistakenly given a supervisory position, most of the coworkers despise them. A submissive may go along with it for a while if he is in need of repeated humiliation or craves crass and impersonal mistreatment. This is not a virtue or detriment of female or male characteristic. Any person of either gender has the same chance of making something of the position, or mucking it up beyond repair.

Much of the attitude has to do with confidence, and later on, the development of skill. Some never develop either, they just cash in on whatever someone made available to them. Then there are others who are borne with confidence, and learn the skill as necessary. On the long run, intelligence and compassion win, whereas, screaming and violence lose. One can be strict, formal, dominant, respectful, and loving without being vulgar or violent.

I have never dealt with professional dominas, so I am a bit handicapped with respect to evaluating their behavior. However, I have met some dominant women who had a way of getting their will done on the job. It was their attitude that convinced me that I would work for them under any circumstance. They could be leaders in any venue. They never had to scream or use obscenities or threats. They were just natural leaders.

I am not what anyone would call a submissive man. But that is just a matter of scale and situation. I have, and would again submit to others in a professional and political arena when I meet one who is above me in whatever stature is under consideration.

Then there is a matter of submitting to a worthy woman, which is my true directive in my life. In the latter case sex is very much part of it in my mind and my needs. Yet, it is not unconditional. She has to be intelligent, considerate, and rational, not necessarily sexy, young, wide, flat, or whatever. A screaming vulgar violent person gets her way with some, but with me she or he would meet resistance. Resistance is not a desirable trait of a willing submissive. Regardless of preferences, we must meet on agreeable terms.

Dominant people have a metaphorical stature of a cone or a pyramid: stable, reliable, and in no need of constant and repeated subjugation of their charges. Domineering people, on the other hand, tend to be the same, only their perceived stature is upside-down. Because of their unstable position they are constantly in need to reassure themselves, else they fail not only in their own esteem, but also in the eyes of their pitiable subjects.

The Other Washinton

I was reading Jokes/Balance at Arcanet while munching on my lunch. I don’t know how reliable the links remain over time, so I borrowed one that was just too precious to not share with all of you. Here it is.


God was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him, resting on the seventh day.He inquired of God. "Where have you been?"

God sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction, and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds, "Look, Michael. Look what I've made."

Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, "What is it?"

"It's a planet," replied God, "and I've put Life on it. I'm going to call it Earth and it's going to be a great place of balance."


"Balance?" inquired Michael, still confused.

God explained, pointing to different parts of earth. "For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over there I've placed a continent of white people, and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things," God continued pointing to different countries. "This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very cold and covered in ice."

The Archangel, impressed by God's work, then pointed to a land area and said, "What's that one?"

"Ah," said God "That's Washington State, the most glorious place on earth. There are beautiful mountains, rivers and streams, lakes, forests, hills, plains, and coulees. The people from Washington State are going to be handsome, modest, intelligent, and humorous, and they are going to be found traveling the world. They will be extremely sociable, hardworking, high achieving, and they will be known throughout the world as diplomats, and carriers of peace."

Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then proclaimed, "What about balance, God? You said there would be balance."

God smiled, "There is another Washington...wait until you see the idiots I put there."

Who You Callin' a Lady?

A woman by any other name is not necessarily a lady


Before I begin to dissect women, I want to give an idea of the terminology surrounding sexes. I will not be exhaustive in definitions, since anyone can look up the terms in his favorite reference site or book. I will just pick the one that seems to suit my purpose for the moment, and leave others for later.

Pertaining To Men, But Not Exclusively

Gentleman:

“A man whose conduct conforms to a high standard of propriety or correct behavior”. I may act gentlemanly from time to time, alas, I am not one. I would love to be, but at this point in my life I can’t justify the effort.

Man:

“Human adult male”. I am one.

Guy:

“A rope, chain, rod, or wire attached to something as a brace or guide”. Well, at least by Merriam-Webster. More appropriately, “A mostly adult man with some redeeming qualities”. Yeah, I have been called one often.

Fellow:

“A member of a group having common characteristics”. You know, pair of balls, needing a shave, etc. Right. I have them all so far.

Schmuck:

“Penis”. Need I say more? I feel like one from time to time, but I give myself more credit than to admit to being one full time.

Jerk:

“An unlikable small-minded person”. Sheesh, I have been called that, but I don’t think I deserved it.

Asshole:

Well, you can give your definition based on those whom you know. I know I have been called that, but, in my opinion, I never deserved it (well, maybe in very narrow circumstances). Then again, there are other opinions.

As you can see, the credentials and worthiness based on the above definitions range from “just fine” to, well, you know

Pertaining To Women

I will be slightly less irreverent defining the female gender, although the above definitions certainly apply from time to time.

Gentlewoman:

“A woman of refined manners and good breeding”. You will recognize one when you see her.

Lady:

“A woman of refinement and gentle manners”. She is close to a gentlewoman. However, especially of late, the word has assumed a meaning much less than original, and no more than female. Alas, it is now expected that a man calls a female lady even if he means, “you stupid uneducated moronic bitch”. It is a shame, for there still are ladies around, and the honorific should be used with care.

Woman:

“Adult female person”.

Girl:

“A female servant or employee, an informal friendly, or demeaning meaning of woman”.

Broad:

“Woman of character marked by lack of restraint, delicacy, or subtlety”. This may be verging on archaic usage, but I think it is a good description.

Bitch:

“A malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman”. Even when I feel like it, I seldom use this. I just don’t have it in me.

There are others, and some covered under “Pertaining To Men ...” may apply, but I think that I have covered the spectrum.

Where Do You Fit?

Male or female, I am curious about where you think yourself to be.

Let not this be a wish or a feeling. Rather, examine your behavior in normal circumstances, and rate yourself. Is there anything you would like to change about yourself?

Do you care how others classify you? I am not talking about isolated instances when some person with irrational expectations calls you names. That is not what you are. What you are is when you are alone and admit to yourself how you would behave under some circumstances.

Let’s hear it, dolls and guys, girls and boys, ladies and gentlemen! But please, remain civil in your comments.

She Is Out Of Town Again

I dropped her off at her friend’s house. She and friend Laura planned to head north out of town. Laura, as usual, practically devoured me in her driveway as soon as we stopped and exited our vehicle. OK, I could do her, as in, “just about anything”. The problem with that would be MW, who definitely would disapprove. So, anything other than deep kissing for a few moments, and maybe a few feelies of voluptuous female (and male) parts is verboten. Shoot, on my way driving home I was inundated with her perfume, and couldn’t get it out of my mind. Once home, I dropped my shirt into the laundry chute so that I could relax. Her perfume became only a memory. Then, so was kissing MW on the lips before we parted. OK, for those of you who are attuned to pleasing females, I meant, “her upper lips”. Not that I would have refused to kiss her lower lips as we stood in Laura's driveway.

After returning home I did the usual. No, not the sexy parts. You know, taking care of animals and doing chores. Then I got to the sexy parts. Being a bachelor for a few days gave me the option of unlimited sex. Well, unlimited as long as I remained faithful. My right hand was duly drafted to do some sorely needed attention to the little guy. Then eating junk food, drinking whatever was available, listening to loud music ... We are far enough away from neigbors such that they are unlikely to call the Sheriff complaining about the noise. I think.  I don’t want to go on account of I might tend to incriminate myself.

My neighbor, a lovely woman with the longest and most beautiful legs in the neighborhood (other than MW's of course) came across the road as I was picking up my mail. I may have had a drink or two before, since I have a vague memory of kissing her hand. During the conversation she had invited us to dinner this coming weekend, after MW’s return. Sheesh, I am a basket case when it comes to women.

I don’t know how I have been able to remain civil and detached in my various professional positions over the years. There have been no lawsuits, and my supervisors have not confronted me with complaints of unprofessional behavior, so I think that I managed somehow. But it is getting difficult. The older I get the more my vista opens: more females become attractive.

I have not shaved in a while. I guess I will have to do so before I collect MW upon her return to the city. Looking like a lumber jack months out of town may be offensive to some females. Imagine that! Although, I don't think that would slow down Laura.

And, oh yeah, maybe I should give the little guy a rest in case he were to be needed by MW for some unknown reason. After all, I am not famous for being multi-orgasmic. But I am willing to try. I often thought that I would have a future in pornographic movies, and regret not having tried. I had a good reason, though. You know, I would not want to be recognized on my day job. It would embarrass some of us.

Grumbling On Female Superiority

I love the many variations of the message on a woman’s tee shirt, “I have the pussy, I make the rules.” It is so appropriate among people who wish to submit to a pussy! I am definitely one. However, I don’t want to generalize it to mean, “I have the pussy, so I am superior to you.” If it is your preference in your own relationship, then good for you. That's not necessarily so for the rest of us.

Much of what is said on the subjects of female supremacy and feminism is just passionate philosophical argument. I love philosophical arguments; I also like arguing using logic. Alas, logic, commenting on and writing about these subjects, is rarely there. What there is usually, is passion, and interpretation. None of that is generally wrong when we consider that we are simply expressing our feelings. Feelings are neither wrong nor right. Nevertheless, if logic is missing, any attempt at argument loses potency.

Before I get into the depth to which I want to cover this subject, I want to point out the following. Although they may coincide in narrow contexts, female supremacy and feminism are not the same thing.

I have worked with people of all sorts in a professional environment. I have run into rabid feminism and I did not like it. It was as bad as the so-called “macho man,” who assumed that he was in charge because he had balls. There are people who are leaders because they have the capability and the drive. Then there are others who pretend. Gender has nothing to do with it.

Some of the comments and blogs have to do with the evil of patriarchy. I have no problem with patriarchy. Neither do I have a problem with matriarchy. Either one works when it fits the situation. Just don’t try to impose one or the other when it is inappropriate, or to an extreme degree!

According to Merriam-Webster, feminism is “The theory of political, economical, and social equality of sexes.” My addition is to “promote such”. Feminism is a good idea when we try to give equal opportunity to females. Difficulty arises when we use “affirmative action” in a manner similar with respect race. One does no harm in promoting equality with respect to gender or race. This brings me to the other subject, which is female supremacy, including the assumed destruction of patriarchy. There are two reasons for my objection.

Reason one: anyone who wants to “destroy” something in order to replace it with his choice is going to meet resistance. Not everybody will think that the replacement will be better than the old thing. It would be better to promote the new idea, and let it take over on its merits. Forcing it onto others will meet with justified resistance.

Reason two: feminism was and is a good idea. Just as would be “masculinism” if it were necessary. Just don’t carry either to an extreme. Female supremacy, on the other hand, is based on gender. As such, it is fallacy. Give each person his or her chance to excel. Deal with people instead of gender.

Even though I am a dominant heterosexual male, I am willing to submit to a deserving female. My wife happens to be one. That does not mean that all females are worthy of my submission or that any are superior to me. It also means that I don’t take dominance over females in general because of my gender.

Human intelligence evolved encompassing “skull size”, “skin color”, “gender,” etc. It is not what you have, such as gender, size, etc., but what you do with what you have that makes the difference.

I have a quote that is attributed to Barbara Wright Abernathy, author of the book, Venus On Top: Women Who Are Born To Lead And The Men Who Love Them (From the now apparrently defunct blog, http://venusontop.blogspot.com/)

“Freedom from the artificial restrictions of gender roles is underway and gathering momentum. However, the rise of the feminine does not mean the demise of the masculine. It means a new and healthier balance of power, and it bodes well for the future of the human race.”

I could not have said it better. Let natural leaders lead, and submissives follow, regardless of gender!

What Do You Do With A Pussy?

Once in a while I encounter a glimpse or even an explicit picture of the female anatomy that rules my life. It has to be in context. For example, an explicit picture of a pussy in your face, spread for all to see,  may under some circumstances be enticing. Most often it causes me an overload. Not that I actually encounter this often. OK, at least, not in person.

Men are wired to do things with female parts. If you are a man, and you don’t have an impulse to do something, then you are on one side of the spectrum versus the other. I am on the side that reacts with great appreciation and anticipation. I want to do things with female parts. The spectrum is multi-dimensional.

Sight is one of the dimensions. Certain views get my juices going. However, I like things in context. For example, I love to see a female bottom from any angle, from all angles. If possible, I like to see the full figure. Seeing the picture of a disembodied pussy, for example, to me, is little more than seeing a picture of one of those artificial vaginas no matter how realistic. There is no right or wrong here, it is a matter of preference. We will overlap in preferences, but we should never expect agreement on the details. These details are based on our early experiences, and will not go away. Mine are for voluptuous thighs. Of course, other parts are also welcome to any degree. Like I said, all in context.

Another dimension is smell. It is very basic. I can remember smells from when I was five years old. Smells are penetrating to my core. When I encounter MW early in the morning I search all her beautiful parts for rewarding scents emanating from her loveliness. I am usually satisfied with the result. She is clean, but several hours of sleep past a shower. Her natural scents give me reinforcement of her female charm. The taste of her skin, the scents under her arms, the wonderful warm place between her breasts, and the musky aroma in the vicinity of her nether lips have enslaved me forever.

Another dimension of appreciation is what she does with her charms. After wielding her looks, her scents, there is her power over me in dominance. As much as I prefer submitting to her, or a woman of her caliber, I admit that I could submit in almost any scenario to any woman. I am getting into fantasy here, so don’t take what I say literally under the circumstances.

Let’s say that I prefer very clean well-endowed females of a certain wide age range. Submitting to her would be easy. Next, let’s consider a female out of the above stated limits. For example, she is older, thinner, had not showered in the last few hours, etc. If she did the right thing in using what she has, I think that I would not have a chance fighting my way out of her charms. I would succumb.

Let’s get back to what I would prefer to do with a pussy. My first impulse is to plant my face on this precious part of female anatomy and enjoy the scents (this works even when she is wearing clothes). My eyes, if not blindfolded, are essentially useless at that close range, so I rely on my nose and tongue. My nose has already given me the jab to proceed by all means, so I can’t wait to include my tongue in the process. Oh my! The flavors are to die for. My lips get into the act, and I am totally immersed in pleasure.

Adding still another dimension is the feel of her thighs, hips, ass, legs, arms, or breasts while my tongue and nose are busy getting me off on her pleasure.

I don’t mean to get weird here, but in a Freudian sense it may be associated with my birth. In a way it is a primal memory.

I don’t mean to say that I never want to do penetrating sex with other than my tongue. Holy cow, I do, very much! Just that, my first impulse in treating a pussy is to give the owner pleasure using my tongue. If I succeed with that, whether or not I get mine is like dessert: optional.

Chastity Control With Pain

Well, maybe not on purpose, but chastity devices do come with pain. Regardless of the type, from time to time, pain of the wearer is involved. Does the key holder know? Does she care? Would she cause the pain on purpose?

There is an inherent flaw in the design of the devices generic to the CBX000 and the like. The flaw is the need to keep the balls separated from the cock making sure that no parts can be withdrawn. Regardless of what configuration one selects, one problem may be alleviated, but another will be created. No pair of balls and cock are the same, and no such set will behave the way another would. No two individuals feel the same about the confinement. The conclusion is, you should not expect the CBX000 to fix your problems without causing its own problems. In addition to the generic flaw, there are flaws in the manufacturing process, such as cracks, and protuberances.


When a keyholder decides to incarcerate her submissive in such device, she may not know the implications at first. Aside from all the hype and testimonials of how it makes men docile and more willing to serve, there are other issues. The issues range from vindictive and purposefully cruel application of the device to benign orgasm control with passion for the poor schmuck who is the recipient.

I have gone through some bad experiences wearing them, and I am sure that MW has no idea how it felt. I did tell her some of it, but, as you know, “You just had to be there,” as such. MW is not cruel, and I don’t think that she would make me wear such device if it really caused me obvious harm or extreme pain. But then there is moderate pain. I, as a submissive to her, should expect to bear at least moderate pain from time to time. The CBX000 never caused continuous pain, but it did cause more than moderate pain from time to time. I never complained, although I was close to doing so many times.

Should I have complained? Should I have been subjected to such pain only for fun when MW was not even aware of my condition?

In a way I think that I should shut up and put up. I did sign up to this relationship, and I got some of what I asked for. If it is more than I expected, maybe it is something that goes with the territory. I get some joy, I should get some pain also. As much as I would love to, I should not expect MW to feel everything that I feel, especially the pain.

I am probably being a sissy complaining about this. Still, I would prefer a chastity device that would simply keep me chaste, but would not get too much in the way in other respects. I have done some research. During the course I have seen quite a variety of devices along with testimonials and evaluations. Mostly because of the expense we have not tried them. After all we could spend thousands of dollars and barely sample the available devices.

There are the belt type devices that purport to be escape proof and yet comfortable. It may be so, but then issues with personal hygiene and key holder involvement come up.

The devices that rely on a Prince Albert piercing almost assure chastity, such as Miss Lori’s excellent products. But they come with their own problems of ill-fit. In my case, my little guy varies in size from miniscule to huge in both length and girth depending on temperature and provocation. Given that, almost any device that is supposed to fit over it would be only part time fitting. There is no way that I can give accurate and correct measurement to order the device.

There is the one that uses a penetrating part to keep one chaste, but that too, is reliant on sizing, so there is a problem from time to time, unless it is used only for play under some benign circumstances.

Should I expect painless control? Or should I expect pain to be part of chastity for my Mistress Wife?

If You Can't Take A Joke ...

In my Army days we used to have a solution to a potentially disintegrating personal relationship among ourselves. We would say, “If you can’t take a joke, f*** you.” It was meant with all the warmth and camaraderie that we possessed, and meant no more than a dismissal of another person’s taking offense at a rib or a joke. We lived hard, we joked hard, and we had hard fun.

I have always promoted satire as a way to offer humor, and yet convey an underlying meaning. Jokes and satire are successful only when based on reality. As a consequence, some people who consider themselves the butt of the joke or the object of the satire can’t live with it. Well, satire hurts only when it hits home, otherwise it is funny … sort of. After all, there is wry humor. Some people just cannot take a joke, and even worse, cannot tolerate satire. That is sad, for much of satire is of political nature, and politics are fun.

A person made a comment on my previous post, he said,

“This must be the dumbest thing I've read in a long time. I hope this article was satire. If not, you were very irresponsible in all your assertions as they were all spin jobs. Hence, maybe you shouldn't mix looney neocon politics with a fetish blog. Although, considering the history of neoconservative politicians in the last eight years, I suppose neocon polotics and fetish go hand in hand..ex-Senator Craig and ex-Rep Marc Foley can attest to that, as they know all about it.”

I did not let the above become a comment on the post, because, I did not want to embarrass the person by allowing his ID to be associated with it. However, because his comment had such passion, I felt that it should be aired, so here it is.

This post was indeed satirical. It did not present real scenarios, but situations based on currently very real scenarios. The comment about “…you shouldn't mix looney neocon politics with a fetish blog”, well, who makes the rules? You, the reader, or I?

This person was disappointed because I had not provided enough fetish as expected. Instead of fetish, I provided some thought provoking ideas. This is not a fetish blog. However, even if it were a fetish blog, I could post anything I wanted as long as what I am writing is not illegal or slanderous. I am not promoting harm to any person. I am not fomenting discontent with any person, organization, or entity. I am making comments. This is my turf. If you cannot contain your reaction to my writing, I suggest you start your own and try to counteract what you see here.

I have written on many subjects, and may continue to do so. I have nothing against politics or any other subject. I can elaborate on and debate any subject unless it requires distinct and expert knowledge outside of my field, such as quantum physics, etc. Comments are welcome as long as they are civil. One can disagree without resorting to bad manners.

Those of us who follow current events, national and global politics and trends, will have opinions on them. If your opinion differs from mine I don’t consider you a lesser person because of it. I don’t expect that everyone will see things my way in politics or in the basic charter of this blog, “Female Led Relationship”. I am vocal about all that. Let’s discuss the subjects, rather than take offense and react inappropriately.

It is also proper to share certain beliefs and attributes, yet disagree on others. That is what makes interacting with people interesting.