HERS Forever

Problem with Postings

2012-01-21T16:26:00.000-08:00

I can post as before, however, I cannot respond to comments. This blog site, it is free so I should not complain, has stopped me from accessing the comments section of the posts. Those of you who left comments please do not think that I am ignoring you. I just cannot get to the place where I can either read or respond to you. In time it may be resolved, or I may find another way.

Wasted Chances

2012-01-21T16:04:00.000-08:00

My patriotic friend is hanging in there, but the years have made an impression on him that, I am sure, he does not relish. He has never been verbose, but as the days go by he uses fewer words to express his needs or responses to queries by others about his views. He still writes, and I am amazed at the similarity of style that I have picked up from him. For all anyone knows, I could be writing all that. Except, I am not that good. I assume that I could be in some years. I could use the practice at least. In a small way some thought nags me, saying, “It’s not the years, dummy, it’s the wisdom that he has.” Yeah, right. Wisdom comes with years for some. Maybe for me. We will see.

He was more morose than usual, probably attributed to a recent acknowledgment of his mortality. He had tried to do some work on his truck that required lifting it so that he could slither under it to access the transmission. He decided that lifting the truck was not within his immediate priorities given his other options. After he had related the event to me I laughed, and said, “I did that some years ago, but would not want to do it now. Get a tow truck and have the dealer fix it for you. You have more important and less dangerous things to do.”

His subsequent musing was recorded partly by him in text, partly by me from memory.

I must have been in my forties when I realized that there were things I could not do such as I had done before. Running through the elephant grass as I dodged the bullets sprayed at me by the VC [Viet-cong] I had the feeling of “I’ll get you bastards, as soon as I get back to my truck.” I did get back, I did get my 50 caliber gun pointed, and did return fire. If I had to do it today, I would not be here to write this. I am now many years later although not necessarily wiser. One thing I have learned is that time is getting distorted. Anything that I do takes more time, but there is less time to allocate to it, resulting in less and less opportunity to do anything that needs to be done.

I will give you an example. I had a sweetheart whom I courted for some years. I got nowhere with her as far as sexual intercourse was concerned. It was fun and a challenge, but not blatant. I had plenty of time. Then things got in the way. I was in the Army, I was in Vietnam, gone for three years. During that time she met someone, and then … you know.

I was young enough to start again. I did. I did well. Still, there were things I meant to do, but did not so, for I thought that I still had time to do later. It is now later. Much later, and I have not the time. Even if I had the time, I do not have the means. A moment of pleasure missed yesterday is hours missed later, assuming that I had the means to suffer that pleasure. The opportunities that I had and wasted are gone. They will not come again. The capabilities that I had have diminished to where only wishes remain. Regrets abound. I now must plan a graceful exit from this world.

I was unable to deal with his statement. I could sympathize with his position, but was fearful of my coming to be there in turn not too long from now. I did not know what to say. I have had my own regrets of lost opportunities, and guessed what he felt.

I have lost opportunities over the last three years that I cannot recover. I am getting to be the age where an opportunity lost is lost forever.

Am I morphing into my patriotic friend?

We are inseparable. If he leaves, will he take part of me with him?

When he leaves, will I?

... Been There ...

2012-01-20T16:41:00.000-08:00

Maybe I am just a bit too sensitive. Tell me. Have you heard someone say, “’Been there, done that?”

What does that mean?

Does that mean, “Ho hum, you aren’t telling me anything new here?”

Does that mean, “I’m with you, I’ve experienced it like you, but you’re boring me?”

Does that mean, “You schmuck, quit boring me with your drivel as if you ever had an original thought?”

Have you ever said “’Been there, done that?” and did not realize that you were insulting a person because of your repeating a common inane phrase without regard to its veracity or usefulness?

Alone

2012-01-20T16:33:00.000-08:00

I wrote this a bit over a year ago.

I am free as far as messing with the little guy is concerned. I can do to him, with him, or he can do to me whatever our fertile imagination provides. Yet, it is not as good as it would be with MW.

MW is off on her annual week’s stay with her friends at a nearby resort. I drove her there and moved all their luggage and stuff into the units that they were to occupy. We had a nice dinner in the main unit, and, as usual, I spoke many words of double meanings and they were understood. They knew that I am a horny bastard ready to be used. With wine and spirits I may have had an excuse for my wise-ass comments. I assumed that MW would punish me for them, but she let me get away with them for now. That is both good and bad. I stayed overnight, and left mid-morning the next day to go home to allow the lovely ladies enjoying a few days of vacation.

I am now at home alone. I can indulge in my right hand gratification as much as I want. If she were to ask about it later, I would tell her. If she did not, it will remain between me and the little guy. I miss her. Her absence reminds me of how much I love to be with her.

Nothing has changed.

Bah Humbag

2011-12-23T17:35:00.000-08:00

I am in a Christmas but Grinchy mood. I grew up in a sort of Christian home learning its principles and somewhat applying them. Over the decades of my development most of the rites and rituals wore off leaving me with only the principles that are essentially basic to our constitution of the USA. I can even say that I believe and practice most of the Ten Commandments, having exception only to one or two depending on the circumstances.

Christmas is a superposition of a Christian holiday on some long lost pagan commemoration of lore. It is supposed to be the celebration of the birth of Christ, Son of God. Fine. Keep it that way.

Even before the politically correct assholes began to object to keeping Christ in Christmas I had a problem. In my native country (not USA) the communist government renamed Christmas “Pine Tree Day”. You can imagine how well that was received by the mostly Christian populace. Later, being in a free country (USA) I was first exposed to Christmas music played in stores in an attempt to entertain the shoppers. This was a modern, electrified, version of the Christmas carolers of the days when recorded music was not widely available. Fine. I liked the music, just that, I did not really want to be subjected to being captive audience just because I happened to want to buy a loaf of bread. I learned to cope with it by spending less time in stores during the season.

Then the politically correct assholes came along supported by atheists who think that the “Separation of church and state” actually exist in the United States Constitution: no such thing. They began to object to the use of the word Christmas in any context. They still do, and try to figure out way to suppress the expression even on private property.

Over the years I became much annoyed with hearing “Frosty the Snowman …” and the like when out in public. I began to despise the “holiday season” for that reason, and also the commercialization of a Christian holiday: buy gifts that you cannot afford else you are in deep shit with your loved ones. The radio stations that I frequent at some point began to play Christmas music while abandoning their usual program. I stopped listening to radio until after the New Year’s Day.

Well, the politically correct assholes have had their way. There are fewer stores that play so-called Christmas music. That was fine with me. Then I had a revelation. I actually like Christmas music. Not songs about friggin’ Frosty, not the “fa-la-la” crap, not the “Chipmunks roasted on an open fire ..” not the snowy Santa fakery, but the traditional religious based Christmas music. They are melodious, they are inoffensive, and they are deep with meaning of tradition of the people who held their beliefs over centuries.

I am not a religious person, but I respect those who uphold their beliefs against opposing views. I tolerate any religion as long as it does not force me to see it their way or else they kill me. So, I am back to enjoying Christmas music, excluding the seasonal fluff from movies and third-rate would-be singers trying to cash in on the holiday. I love Christmas; I like the New Year’s events.

Is Nothing Sacred?

2011-10-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

I have stumbled onto a blog much after its inception, and been faithfully following the plethora of posts with some pleasure. Starting to read it from its beginning I have not caught up with the latest, for I have other things to do in my life, so it will take time. The blog is written by a formerly tame, prim, and proper housewife whose expected and acceptable response to her husband’s request was “Yes Dear!” as she orally excited him as part of foreplay, followed by a through humping of her by the aforementioned husband. She had no say in how he ran the household. I gleaned this from her March 24, 2011 post. I will give you the link later. After a recent epiphany she now dominates him totally, including domestic duties, investments, choice of sex, and severe discipline and humiliation in public, with him as submissive. I think that the sudden role reversal that took place is questionable, but appropriate. I like to see such (assumed) wrongs righted. I wish I would be in her husband’s place.

The blog is well done. The writing is first class. The abundant photographs are excellent. The now in charge wife and the submissive husband are both beautiful. The scenarios that she, the writer of the blog, presents are enticing, and again, I wish that I would be in this man’s place. However, as we sometimes find out, when something appears perfect, it is not necessarily so.

In September this year, while I was still reading her earlier posts, I left a comment on her August 30 post of hers asking about who is taking the pictures when both she and “Sissy”, her husband, are in the foreground, which is most of the time. She posted my question, but had not left an answer as of now. I am still trying to catch up with the subsequent postings, so I am not sure whether my question was or is addressed before or after. My guess is that it was not. I will eventually catch up with her latest post and know.

I will say again that I like this blog. She, assuming that she is female, is an articulate writer who uses good grammar. Her subjects, narrowed to that of a dominant wife are well developed, interesting, and are likely based on someone’s reality. It could be that she and her partner have experienced much of what she presents, but not exactly as it is presented. It could be that the writer has hired a pair of models to pose for the pictures to document past reality or current fantasy. May people follow her blog but have not indicated doubt, rather, they are gushingly presenting their adoration. I may be the only one who questions the blog’s veracity. You may see for yourself, and let me know. At the least, you will be thrilled when you read about Ms. Marie.

Erection Prevention: Another Myth Debunked

2011-10-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

Back in the dark ages when porno magazines were the only source of this sort of crap there was an ongoing theme of “ball busting” in which the poor recipient had his testicles crushed by a woman in some manner resulting in a condition that forced him to constant masturbation or else … the alternative was unclear. Once one lame brain male came up with this idea, others immediately copied it and related it in their own miserable invented context. The letters to the magazines from these readers were ripe with variations of the theme. Then the Internet happened, and later blogs came along, and the idea was picked up again, but this time on wider subjects, one of which was enforced chastity of the male.

Many creative short stories and blog posts have been written about men undergoing chastity by their request or at the insistence of their partner. Most of the time their partner is not aware of the practice, could not care less about it if she knew, and would not want to bother with the details of his latest kink. There is always something new that turns him on and he wants to try it at home. The good thing about that is that he actually tries to do it at home with his partner, as opposed to going to some professional key-holder or some ugly guy posing on the Internet as a female.

“So, chastity is his latest kink. Ho hum,” as she stifles her yawn, “What will he come up with next?”

He keeps wearing her down until she finally has enough and goes along with the device just to shut him up. He is now deeply in denial thinking she is in charge of sex now. Yeah! She drops the key into a drawer and forgets about it until he walks out of the shower sporting his paraphernalia, at which point she shrieks in a frightegned surprise.

The fantasy version is much different. She forced him to buy the chastity device, and then forced him to put it on and hand over the key. Whatever subterfuge or trap she used to get him to accept her terms remains in force, therefore he is powerless to resist. He is trapped in a hard unyielding device, never able to remove it unless she allows it. She decides when and how he experiences pleasure and pain, whereas he is obligated to pleasure her via oral and dildo manipulations, blah, blah, blah. You can tell this fantasy from reality by its stylized details.

The myth going along with that is that the chastity device prevents him from achieving any sort of erection. Well, maybe it does for one or two wearers, but if there is at least one man who will become erect anyway, then the myth is proven wrong. I have worn a few of these devices, and none prevented me from sporting an erection. Some of these devices allow the use of painful punishers, such as the points of intrigue that fit the CB x000 designs. These enhancements are cute, and are no problem when the little guy is flaccid. They become a fascinating source of erotic pain when one is titillated by the key-holder, but then the pain goes away after again being ignored. The problem comes up during a nocturnal erection that has nothing to do with sexual provocation. It just happens, and the points dig in. After a while the resulting pain wakes him, and he has to get out of bed and think of bad things, such as a water heater springing a leak and flooding the house. That will take his mind off the source of the pain, and then he can return to bed and sleep.

Even a casual study of the male anatomy will show that a chastity device will contain the erection, but not prevent it. So, when you read a blog and run across the claim that it prevented the erection, you will know it to be one’s fantasy similar to “ball busting” of the old.

What Makes Pornography Look Cheap?

2011-09-30T14:20:00.000-07:00

My Usual Bitching Continues

I have harped about pornography on a few occasions. But, when one is hungry and only slop is available, one eats slop. I am presenting this in an anecdotal fashion, and then conclude with a subjective analysis. I am not trying to say what is right or wrong, just what makes pornography look cheap, unrealistic, and amateurish. It seems that any lamebrain with a video camera can now produce a video. They are always able to find willing “professional amateurs” with loose inhibitions to abuse or be abused for fame and some compensation. I hope that you can laugh at much of it even when it pretends to be serious.

If you have read my blog so far, you probably know the theme: Female Led Relationship. In my limited experience, that is very close to submission to a woman or women in general. This then sets the stage for my primary interest in erotic novels and movies that deal with the dominance of females over males, hence my preoccupation with femdom. I realize that there is a lot more to porno, but as usual, I will stick to my favorite subject. The rest of this post is primarily presenting pornography in terms of femdom genre.

The Nightmare

I awoke stretched out on my back in an ill-lit room. Several wood-looking beams with a single cross beam sporting eyebolts and hooks interrupted the smooth surface of the dark ceiling. Some eyebolts had chains hanging, and one in the center had a hoist with a chain and an electrical control hanging above me. My balls ached, and I attributed that fact to some strap around my package, which in turn was pulled taut by the hoist. I could move my head left to right, so I checked the area in the dim light emanating from shaded floor strips along the walls. The wall to my left had an elaborate Saint Andrew’s cross with eyebolts affixed. On both sides to the corners was furniture whose purpose I could guess, but not ascertain for the moment. One was like a child’s hobbyhorse without wheels or a head, but had straps on the four legs. Another was a short-legged wooden chair with some padding, but had a hole in the seat, roughly the size through which my head would pass face up. Above the furniture were horizontal boards attached to the wall on which instruments, and various crops, whips, paddles and straps hung, some gently swinging in the wind generated by the overhead fan. On my right were two credenzas. On the top of each were sex toys of the sadistic nature: dildoes, strap-on cocks, butt plugs, clamps and clips of a dozen nature and size, hand and ankle cuffs, chains, mask, and more. The far wall toward my feet was covered in cheap wallpaper depicting rough-hewn stones in some blue-gray color. Over the door at each end were fake arches of the same motif. Both doors were closed. The only items between them were a padded bench covered in leather, an ashtray on a tall pedestal, and an unlit floor lamp with several sources of light.

I lay there trying to remember how I came to be in this place, but came to no conclusion. My last memory was that of watching a cheap pornographic video on my computer. After that I don’t know. The air in the room was cool but not uncomfortable on my naked skin. My wrists and ankles were strapped to a narrow table. I needed to use a bathroom, but was unable to move other than wiggle my butt. What seemed like hours later the door on the left opened, and a woman, or one, who appeared to be one, entered carrying a small tray. On the tray was a beer glass half full of some pale liquid, and a clip, the kind one would use to keep a bag of chips closed. As thirsty as I was, I hoped that she meant for me to drink that beer. She picked up the clip and applied it to my nose, essentially forcing me to breathe through my mouth. She then lifted my head and placed the glass to my lips, “Drink until the glass is empty,” she said in a deep voice. She tilted the glass, and I gulped before I realized that beer it was not.

I spilled only a small amount at which point she withdrew the glass and slapped my face on both sides. I reacted angrily, and said, “Stop that and let me get up. You have no right to do this to me!” I should have checked my cock before uttering this silly request. It was rigidly pointing at my face.

“Shut up slave, or you’ll be sorry,” she hissed. She wore a tight red body suit made of shiny plastic. Her matching plastic boots with eight-inch heels on the platform came up to her crotch. The heavy dark makeup around her eyes looked deep as if hollowed into her skull. The exaggerated lips made up with a color matching her boots were clownish. The red fingernails were about three quarters of an inch longer than natural. I wonder how she manages to wipe her butt after, … I thought. She picked off one of the riding crops from those hanging on the wall, and struck my exposed cock, thus interrupting my assessment of this female. After that she left strutting on her high heels and skinny legs. I was alone again.

The door on the right this time opened. An overhead light came on. A woman came in riding on the back of a naked man who moved on his hands and knees. The woman struck the beast’s ass with a riding crop at each step. She wore black leather panties about the size of a half of playing card cut diagonally. The matching top covered her breasts just barely. Black leather gloves covered her hands and arms nearly to her armpits. Halfway into the room she dismounted her beast and staggered to get her balance. She was wobbly on her platform boots with impossibly high heels. I wondered what would happen to her ankles if she lost her balance. Slipping from that height could break one. As she clopped to the Saint Andrew’s cross, she pulled the man by a leash around his neck, and again struck his butt with each step. As the man reached the cross, she screamed, “Get on your feet, slave!” She milled about for a few seconds apparently trying to decide what evil thing to do next. With each step she took on the hardwood floor I could visualize a heavily shod Clydesdale horse on cobblestones. Schmuck got off the floor but not fast enough before she struck his butt again and again. She pushed his back against the cross and began to attach his appendages to the cuffs at ankle and wrist levels. When done, she stood back to examine her work. Apparently satisfied, she clopped around the table on which I lay to the credenzas. She selected several clips and weights. She also picked up a gas mask that looked like a combination of a World War I flying ace full leather cap with an old style rubber hose used in diving. The hose would run from the mouth area down to crotch level. Managing to clop back to Schmuck she put her clips and clamps next to my head on the table, then manhandled the ersatz gas mask over Schmuck’s head. His eyes bulged behind the huge glass eye pieces of the device as he tried to yell in panic. The volume of his oral emanation was muzzled to about the level of an average groan. The skinny black-styled woman (somehow I assumed her name to be Black Mistress) picked up the end of the hose through which Schmuck breathed, and blew into it all of her lungs’ capacity. After getting her breath back, she held the end to her mouth again, and screamed into it, “All right you fucking maggot, I’m going to teach you some fucking manners. You’ll fucking call me Mistress, not Ma’m! You’ll be fucking sorry for being alive before I get through with you!”

She dropped the hose, and grabbed the man’s balls, pulling them as far as the sac allowed. The man whimpered and tried to follow his balls’ trajectory in vain. She began to attach clips and clamps to the balls and the cock, and then hung weights to the metal hooks. She finished with two sturdy clips on the man’s tits. She pulled a cat-o-nine-tails looking device off the wall, and swished it to get the feel of it. After ascertaining the distance of her reach, she held the tips of the whip in her left hand, and then did a full stroke with her right hand as she released the tips. The tips landed on the man’s chest, and he jumped. She sneered at her helpless slave, “I’m going to whip your fucking tits off,” as she continued the strikes to his chest. After a few strikes she clomped back and forth perhaps for effect, but apparently no reason. She stopped and kicked the weights hanging from the man’s balls, sending them swinging. Schmuck groaned. She kicked again snarling, “I’m going to fucking rip your fucking balls off.” Her last kick caused some of the clamps and weights to fly off in different directions, getting quite a reaction from the man. For good measure she raised the whip again, holding the tips, and then struck at Schmuck’s genitals. He had a hard on before, but it was quickly going away now.

She noticed my own erection as she turned toward me. This time she did not hold the tips, but swung with full force front and center. Those tips were not hard, but they came with high speed, and stung like a hive of bees. “You fucking voyeur,” she screamed at me, “Close your fucking eyes or I’ll have my slave sit on them!

"Better yet, I’ll do just that,” she said, and then yelled for her slave. The red-clad woman who was there earlier came in. “Sit on this slave’s face,” Black Mistress said, as she pointed to me. Red Slave got up onto the table behind my head and then knelt on both sides.

“No, no,” Black Mistress screamed, “Open our crotch first.”

Red slave unsnapped her crotch. A somewhat small but erect cock snapped forth before she deposited her butt on my face, thereby shutting off any view of the activities. She wiggled her butt while I tried to breathe. I could only hear what Black Mistress was doing. After some chain rattling and clomping I heard her again yelling at someone to move his ass. She ordered Red Slave to get her the biggest strap-on. Red Slave got off my face, and did as her mistress ordered. I could now see Black Mistress tediously strapping on the dildo. Schmuck was draped over the padded hobbyhorse with his ass at ninety degrees from my point of view. Black Mistress moved behind Schmuck’s ass. Without much preparation she jammed home the enormous device. Schmuck was now free to scream since the fake gas mask lay at his feet. Black Mistress began to pound his ass and soon she moaned “Oh yeah,” every few seconds interspersed with “Take it you fucking slut! I’m going to ream your fucking ass up to your fucking chin,” and the like. It must have been a sympathetic orgasm when she finally stopped. She was looking satisfied, yet she had not lost the permanent sneer on her face. Red Slave was standing on the side masturbating while groping her womanly breasts through the shiny red plastic.

Black Mistress turned to me, “Now it’s your turn, you fucking pervert. First we make sure that you don’t see what’s coming to you. “Slave, get up on his chest and stick your dick in his fucking mouth.” Red Slave eagerly complied. As she carried out the order I felt my other cheeks also parted as Black Mistress moved in for the final act.

My own snoring woke me. The computer monitor before me on my desk still had the final scene of the video that I was watching when I fell asleep. I was leaning back in my chair as I looked around fearfully, for my wife could have, or maybe she did walk in to see me in that compromising position. I quickly killed the browser, and went to make a cup of coffee. Apparently she had not caught me. I could reset my fear counter and try again next time.

Analysis in Very Subjective Terms

In the short story above I may have overdone the presentation in many respects. My purpose was to include many of my favorite idiocies used in pornography, so the story may not be as smooth as it would be if I had tried a “real” one. If you want to see a “real” story, see my book, “Jason’s Deliverance” as described in the side bar of this blog. My objection is not to the category of porno, for we each are titillated by slightly or greatly different things. I am objecting to the implementation.

While I read blogs dealing with my favorite subjects I run across videos that the bloggers thought were great. I am easy to entice into trying them myself. Then one thing leads to another, and I get more than I need or want. With the exception of some one-time-amateur productions, I have developed an aversion to the entire genre now available in erotic videos. Although the theme of some categories is still enticing, the implementation sucks. I watch the short free clips for a few seconds or a few minutes, skipping forward just to see what is there. I have never paid for one. I figure that if these free clips irritate and bore me, the long movie version will put me to sleep. My pet peeves of stylized porno are the following:

Platform boots or shoes: The original idea for platform footwear may have born from wanting to increase the height of the heels. I don’t see the need to go past what looks good, but we all have our kinks. There is a limit before the wearer is walking with toes pointed straight down. So, to increase the height of the heels from, say, three inches to five, add two inches of platform, and you have it. The effect is ridiculous. The sexy effect of the original idea is lost because of the implementation in a clunky and dangerous manner. I know it is a matter of taste, but no sane woman would wear platform shoes or boots to go to any place other than the few feet from her car to the front door of some D/S party. She may as well wear stilts if she is trying to look taller.

Stylized femdom wear: By definition, a dominant female (femdom) wears weird corsets, is naked between her breasts and thy-high stockings, wears gloves up to her biceps, wears fingerless gloves, wears harnesses made of metal, leather, plastic with lots of rings and chains, studded dog collar, tall boots, military hat, and smokes cigarettes through a foot-long cigarette-holder. She never goes anywhere without a whip and a riding crop. Obviously she cannot have all of these femdom things on at the same time, so there are many outfits looking different, but unmistakable femdom.

Plastic/rubber attire: While I don’t make fun of those who prefer it, I make fun of those who think that it makes femdom or submissive of the person wearing it. Once on, how can one tell who is dominant and who is submissive? Personally I find rubber and plastic even in small quantities uncomfortable, smelling bad, and ridiculous under the circumstances. But that is just my opinion.

Gas masks: This one is ridiculous. Why would anyone want to use a gas mask in sex play? I might see some use of a full head mask in sensory deprivation play, but one must be careful with that.

Facial masks and head masks with eye, nose, and mouth holes: This is a little less ridiculous than gas masks, but it is close. It does not impede the submissive who wears it, so why put it on? Is it perhaps to allow Joe Blow from next door to act in two-bit porno and not be recognized by his wife or his buddies? That is rather unfair to the dominant who does not wear a mask. Why not add flippers and rubber duckies?

Screaming dominas: They are screaming idiots. If they are not intelligent enough to explain their agenda in a calm tone, especially in view of the usually bound and gagged submissive, then they should not be allowed to wield a riding crop. It is like handing a loaded gun to an unstable person.

Sneering dominas: A dominant woman, or one acting like one, need not sneer, snarl, or try to look mean. She can impart the look of dominance with feeling rather than grimacing. Sometimes showing emotion, sometimes withholding emotion can accomplish more than these faked grimaces. The permanent or repeated sneer looks irritating and stupid. Even a teenager will look normal from time to time, why should not an adult dominant woman?

Ungainly and purposeless clopping on hard floor: This happens when a domina can’t think of the next move since there is no script. So she walks in her high heels or platform-wear on a hardwood floor. After a few seconds of it one wants to hit the fast-forward or the stop button on the video.

Usage of “fucking” more often than every three words: See, for example this video. I have been know to use the word, but seldom more than once in the same sentence. When used in every sentence, it becomes irritating in a hurry especially when combined with screaming.

Lack of direction, ad-hoc and arbitrary acts: This is the earmark of the lowest class porno. It has to do with adlibbing the scenario. Some people can do it; others just end up looking stupid.

Locked into stylized femdom with no originality: If you have seen a dozen men being whipped by skinny females, you have seen them all. They may vary the number of victims or perpetrators, they may vary the background, they may add a few twists, but the result is the same. There is no reason for the scene other than punishing or mistreating some poor schmuck who appears to enjoy it regardless of the pain or degradation. If only they would add some plausibility to the scene, and be able to make it look real! However, even when they try, it is blatantly fake.

Amateurish use of whips: I call these dominas professional amateurs. They are professional since they do it for a living. Yet they are amateurs, since they obviously have not educated themselves on the use of their main instrument. I have never whipped anyone, so I am not the expert here. On the other hand, I know how to use a whip. If you have seen any Indiana Jones movies you will recall that he picks up the whip in one hand, and wields it. He does not hold the tip in one hand, while beginning the strike with the other.

Naïve use of toys and tools: The domina is given a box of stuff to use to make the video entertaining. She picks up a pair of pruning shears, and applies it to the genitals of the submissive. The only thing she can do after that is to put it down before she is charged with a felony. It reminds me of Eddie Murphy in the movie, Golden Child, in which he yells, “I’m gonna row your ass!” An oar is just not the right instrument for the purpose.

Brainless, purposeless activity: I usually ask myself, “Why is she doing that?” It is like splicing together a few seconds of unrelated movies that did not make sense in the first place.

Fake dungeon walls: This is just professional crap. It looks cheap and their production is cheap.

Faking orgasm: It is all right to fake one when appropriate. It is also distracting when inappropriate. See “Oh yeah”.

“Oh yeah”: Repeatedly moaning this while faking orgasm even as she is using a strap-on dildo on some man. In the throes of passion one tends to lose inhibition, and will say and do things never thought of normally. After the first “oh yeah”, however, one wishes that she would just shut up.

***

Ephemeral

2011-09-05T16:10:00.000-07:00

With mankind’s having a relatively short life span relationships must be squeezed into short periods. For example, a man finds a woman who is perfect. He is in lust with no restrains. After a while he finds out that she has brought baggage, which he does not want to handle. Even while this were not to surface at an early date, she might find that he is not the perfect dildo that she assumed: he had idiosyncrasies that will cost her grief and time on the long run.

Am I saying anything new here?

We have either read about this or experienced it or both. So why is it that we start the perfect relationship, we write (blog) about it, and then it comes to an end? The reason is hope. Hope is irrational. Hope is illogical. Hope is nonsense. What we do is ignore rational reasoning, we ignore logical conclusions, and we go with feelings knowing that they are not based on reality. Predictably, the hope-based relationship fails, and then we are into another similarly ill-fated relationship.

It is a wonder that some relationships last. I happen to be in one. We have tried most of my fantasy things, and they worked for a while. I assume that we could have tried all of my wife’s fantasies and achieve the same. The problem is that any fantasy that is not part of one’s everyday routine requires effort by one or both partners. Putting forth the effort is where the implementation of the fantasy fails. You wake in the morning, you do your work, and then, you think of the obligation you have to fulfill your partner’s fantasy. Unless it is also your own fantasy, at some point you will think, “Fuck it! It’s not worth my effort.” And then the implementation of one’s fantasy is over. It may also be the relationship that is over if it was based on the fantasy alone in the first place.

I read blogs of happy couples with aberrant sexual habits: chastity, orgasm denial, cuckolding, sadism, and the like. They thrill me as I read; yet I am aware of their ephemeral nature. I have not yet read a blog where the author said, “This has worked just fine, but I am now too damn old to continue writing, so this is it. Good bye.” What I read instead is the lack of further postings on these formerly fascinating sites. It is as if the author has died, or his/her theme reverted to vanilla. That, or they have split. The question I have is this: “Are you in a long term aberrant sexual relationship that has lasted more than a few years?” If so, please speak, for you may be one of the few who survived.

Chastity Revealed

2011-08-31T12:58:00.000-07:00

I read a fair number of blogs by men who are into wearing chastity devices. Most of them are newbies as I judge by their exuberance over the potential not yet attained. Those who have been through the trials of hardcore long-term chastity are few. Those are whom I admire to a certain extent. These few men have, what is left of, “balls”, albeit, contained in some evil device. They are the ones who don’t mind wearing plastic when traveling using airports. They are the ones who brave the outside world with practically irremovable chastity devices when they drive to work, or go to the hardware store on a weekend.

My wife and I have been playing with this for some years. I was somewhat the same way as the guys I describe above, but I never became comfortable with it. Sure, I could take the pain and the abuse, even a potential embarrassment, but I had my misgivings all along. In a private setting, my wife could and should cause embarrassment by demonstrating the device that I wear for her amusement. I would welcome and love being examined by her friends, even by her friends’ partners, as I melt into a puddle of embarrassment with only the chastity device staying up front.

However, there is a different setting. For one thing, my being in law enforcement, I am always in a potentially difficult situation. Let’s face it; some of us, once in a while, end up being victims of crimes. An ordinary citizen in that situation would be embarrassed, but get over it. Being a law enforcement officer wearing a device while also being a victim would be at the end of his career. After that one time when my wife made me wear one of “Kali’s teeth bracelets” on the job, I explained to her that our future was on the line, and any evidence of my being pussyfied must be kept private and separate from the profession. After that we went with the pretense that I was not pussified by her, unless I was at home. One can imagine that I gave this much thought while wearing the chastity device at her bequest at home, therefore, coming up with the conclusion that it would cost us much to take a chance. My wife being of sound mind knew who buttered her toast, so she agreed.

There are several points of view about being exposed while wearing a chastity device. I will present only two, both of which are from my perspective, but then you can draw you conclusion based on your situation. The general situation is that when you do your own thing, it is harmless, and it is nobody’s business if you and your partner decide to lock up your private parts. I go along with that one hundred percent! The pisser is what I present in my remaining two points of view below.

Being a legitimate and honest law enforcement officer has severe requirements. One cannot just become a policeman. One must pass rigorous tests to just enter the field, and then be pitted against other applicants before being considered for the job. One’s background must be clear of criminal activity, including mundane subjects such as past and current drug usage. Once on the job one must maintain exemplary behavior for the rest of his career. We are held to a higher standard than the citizens whom we are protecting. Any hint of scandalous behavior may be the end of one’s livelihood. Those on the outside might call us sexist and some other names probably being correct in their assessment. It would end a man’s career to be caught in a homosexual act, or to admit to one. The fact is, there are homosexuals among us, just as there are sexists, but we keep it private. We also live with our female officers as equals, but consider them special people: they are to be protected as we would protect our little sisters. There have been deadly self-sacrifices by men in attempts to save the women in law enforcement. Call us sexists, but that will not change.

Being considered less than a man by my peers would be the end of the line. We joke and tease one-another in sexist ways, but we never insult unless there is a reason. Once insult is given, it cannot be revoked, and at the least, one will resign from the job. My peers finding out that I wear a chastity device on the job would give them cause to ostracize me to extinction. That is because I would be deemed less than a man.

The other aspect of wearing a chastity device has to do with a sudden revealing of a person’s private practice in view of unplanned inspection by others. I can imagine many scenarios, but the most likely is when you are handled by paramedics or jailers.

Paramedics and emergency room personnel with experience can say that they have seen it all. A victim wearing any kind of chastity device will be embarrassed if conscious, or be so after regaining consciousness. The devices have been removed using the expertise of locksmiths, on-site bolt cutters, and in rare cases, welding torches wielded by professionals. The good thing about this is that the episode does not affect the victim’s future by tying it to his public record. It may make a good anecdote for one to talk over cocktails, but does not change the course of his professional life. Then there is the other aspect of being found wearing a chastity device.

An ordinary citizen seldom worries about being arrested by the police, for he does not purposefully do illegal acts for which he would be caught. The thing is, shit happens. Much of the time it has to do with driving a vehicle and/or being an asshole. He is arrested and taken to a jail. He will be asked to hand over any jewelry to the jailer, so that it can be recorded and then put into a safe place pending the victim’s subsequent release. The first problem he might have is deciding whether or not to disclose the chastity device to the jailer. He might assume that it is not the jailer’s business. True to a certain extent, but that is not really the issue. The jailer’s concern is to go with the rules. He does not give a damn what kind of jewelry is in question. On the other hand, if the victim were to take his device intact into the jail (assuming no metal parts which would be detected), he will immediately face the problem presented by his newly assumed peers: they seldom go easy on such an obvious victim. If, on the other hand, he decided to disclose his captive private parts to the jailer upon what we call intake (the processing of the person to be jailed), then the device would be removed even to the point of destruction, and properly documented. Aside from the ridicule and discomfort that the victim would endure, the fact would become part of his record. Strangely, this schmuck's chastity device history would be conveyed to the jail’s denizens somehow. Mister schmuck would become somebody’s girlfriend in not time, just as if he had sashayed through flaunting the device on his parts in the first place. Bruno in the upper bunk would expect to be serviced, and he probably has friends with similar needs.

So, if you want to wear your device when going out in public, have fun. Just keep in mind the potential consequences. If you are into humiliation, you might just get it.

Stand Like a Man! Indoor Plumbing and the Modern Man

2011-07-05T12:57:00.000-07:00

I have lived in and traveled Europe and the Orient. During those times I saw and practiced widely varying modes of personal cleanliness, and was exposed to wide variety of personal waste disposal customs: as the transliterated saying goes, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” I have not seen it all, but I have seen and done a lot. After I settled in the USA I was and remained in euphoria over the opportunities I had to keep myself clean to my satisfaction, and to use the indoor toilets that we have. This is a much wider subject than the basic theme of my post, but I needed to zero in on the pressing issues in a controlled fashion: from a broad scope to the narrow, somewhat like the function of a urinal.

We have all heard jokes and anecdotes about how men leave the toilet seat up. The assumption is that men are wired for standing to urinate, and no millennia of evolution or nagging by the women is going to change that. As for not learning to put the lid down, some men have said, “I have learned to put the lid up. Why don’t the women learn to put the lid down?” Seems fair, but that is really not the issue here. The issue is standing to urinate. I listen to a radio station that changes hosts a number of times during the day and night hours. One of the hosts is a feisty little man with strong opinions. He is smart and witty and has a sense of humor especially when the joke is on someone other than him. I imagine him strutting around like a rooster to make sure everyone knows he is all man without a doubt. In his opinion, stated a number of times, “Only a wimp or a woman would sit to urinate. Men do it standing!” Right. It is how men are raised even in today’s metrosexual society. If they could get away with doing number 2 standing, they would. That would be manly.

During my early years in one of the wars we often heard a phrase, “collateral damage”, usually uttered by liberal reporters who were safely sipping coffee at their desks while writing about how we were killing civilians. I liken the fallout of a man’s standing while urinating to collateral damage. I am not saying that his aim is not true. I am not saying that he misses on purpose. I am saying that when I am down on the floor with my face inches from the toilet and the surrounding walls, I am offended by the smell. I hate to clean up after inconsiderate males.

I was dating a girl who had three younger brothers. On one of my visits I asked to use the bathroom, and one of the boys pointed to a powder room off the hall. The condition of the place was shocking. Later it came up in conversation with my girl friend. She said that powder room was referred to as “The black hole of Calcutta,” basically used only by the boys. When I stay in someone’s house or in a hotel, I eventually have to use the bathroom. Sweet smelling deodorizers notwithstanding my nose tells me when someone has repeatedly missed the toilet bowl. In a hotel I can call housekeeping and have them remedy that. In someone’s home that would not be appropriate, so I grin and bear it. All of this is a result of the demonstrated manliness of the users of the facility.

It was not until I was married that I began to clean bathrooms. My wife and I shared the workload of raising children, so I did whatever I could to help. That is when we both decided, at the risk of raising wimps and sissies, to teach our boys to sit on it. At home they were encouraged to sit while urinating. If they missed, we showed them how to clean up. By the latest census they are still virile males without doubts about their manliness.

There are, however, mitigating circumstances. In an unclean restroom, whether private or public, I choose not to sit, so I appreciate the ability to flip the lid and let go. If there are urinals, I use them. My objection to standing is strictly based on consideration for the person who has to clean up after me. At home that would be me.

A few years back my wife and I decided that I should have a Prince Albert piercing. You can see one of the pictures at My Pierced Member. Before the piercing I could stand and hit a cup at six feet with my stream. With the jewelry in place the stream was more like a hose nozzle set at wide spray. I quickly realized that I might have reduced control of the stream while standing and using a urinal. The other item of more problematic nature was the occasional use of a chastity cage, which also manifested itself only while I had to stand. The obvious answer to both problems was to sit. This brings me to the amusement that I get while reading the blogs of men who are in a chastity relationship. At some point they realize that they have to sit. Well, if that does not turn them into sissies, what does? That should at least make it easier for them to clean the bathrooms. Sissies do clean bathrooms? Don’t they?

There is nothing wrong with a man standing under the circumstances. It is a small enough pleasure that should not be begrudged by anyone. This is especially true if they are the ones cleaning the bathroom regularly. I am just not convinced that standing makes a man more manly. Can any of you give us a good reason to stand other than the ones I have stated?

Stand Like a Man! A Tongue-in-cheek Look at Manly Urination

2011-06-26T17:04:00.000-07:00

Lest you think that I have lost my sense of humor I respectfully submit this treatise to demonstrate otherwise. I generally don’t dwell on the subject of male urination, but since many of the blogs I frequent are into chastity devices for men, the subject comes up often. I felt it was time to address it from my point of view. The subject is “Should men stand or sit while urinating?” First I cover a bit of history.

The Early Days ...

Before the early man came out of the trees, he could do it while sitting on a branch, just as a woman could. Still, he had the equipment to direct the spray so that it missed his dangling legs. On the long run this may have become a manly thing. Meanwhile the woman probably had to squat even on the branch just to avoid the salty liquid drying on her legs and eventually cause itching. Keep in mind that I am seeing this from a man’s point of view whose exposure to the outdoors have been through camping in the back yard with his children.

This was the beginning when men were distinctly identifiable from women. Men could stand while whipping the little guy side to side as they scanned for predators, whereas the lowly women had to squat and not be afforded the panoramic view from behind the tall weeds. This had to be part of evolution. Man: tall protector. Woman: squat protected. Consequence, man stands. Only a wimp or a woman would squat. One must admit, there is a magnificence attached to the scenario. I am surprised that we see so little of this in cave art and modern TV advertisements.

Privatizing the Action …

With formalized religion oozing out of the witch doctor realm sin was invented. One of the sins was urinating in public: you had to get it indoors. The term “outhouse” is a euphemism for the means for sitting on a hole while doing number one or number two. There is bucolic charm to the idea of a tiny wooden shack with a half moon cutout above the door. When you really have to go, almost any place will do. Naturally you don’t want to do it in your house, so there was the outhouse alternative. With all that, men still stood outside to scan for predators while swinging the little guy even as predators became scarce. Women had to sit on the hole behind the half moon whether parting with number one or two. In the summer the odors were ripe, the flies kept busy. In the winter one tended to freeze the somewhat private parts unintentionally. Washing of one’s hands afterward took second place to buttoning up the clothes.

Industrial Revolution …

Large towns with paved streets became less able to accommodate public urination. The issues ranged from modesty to the objection of the city burghers to the stench on a hot summer day. This was the beginning of privatization of the activity. Men would still stand over a hole in the floor; women would squat over their own hole in the floor. A modicum of privacy was offered by partitions between the sexes mainly to shield the shy female bladders from the ogling by curious males. This era also introduced the need to clean up after the users. The job description of the attendants of these public dumps required the ability to wield a bucket of water and a scrub brush, much like today’s college graduates who still live with their parents. No formal education was needed, college graduates needed not apply. The labor supply was endless, and the users remained oblivious to the result of their use and misuse of the facilities. At the end, men still stood.

Modernization of Indoor Pplumbing …

Whether public or private, porcelain made the difference. When combined with tightly coupled water source and drain it made the users glad that they did not have to fight the flies in the summer and the freezing of their thingies in the winter. There was still an issue with odors, so vents and windows were supplied. At this point the men no longer had to stand to scan for predators. In the privacy of the wash closet they could sit and take care of business, and no one would call them wimps for doing the equivalent of womanly squatting. As we very well know, this did not happen. There were two reasons for the continuance of this primitive but manly custom. One was the illusion of maintaining the manliness of urination; the other was the invention of the urinal.

I am not sure whether the urinal was invented to support the manly illusion, or the manly illusion was maintained because the urinal was invented. Regardless, any man would feel foolish to walk into a public restroom used by modern barbarians and sit on a filthy toilet seat when a perfectly good, albeit filthy, urinal is available. Why, even women have succumbed to the lure of inventions that make it possible for them to avoid using the filthy toilets just to urinate.

While I am on the subject I want to point out an interesting fact. Many travelers when using public toilets make themselves at home so to speak. They shit and piss on everything. Of course, that makes it less desirable for subsequent users, especially women who can’t stand up while doing it.

Next installment: "The modern Man and Indoor Plumbing"

Retaliation to Witholding Sex

2011-06-25T10:19:00.000-07:00

Tamara in her post of June 19, 2011, "Subs need no sex" poses some questions embedded in her experience with the withholding of sex. I tried to answer her questions in a comment to that post. At the same time I realized that there are still some explanations needed on my recently revealed situation.

Tamara’s partner withdrew from sex at some point in her relationship. She said,

“… I let him feel that I was missing something important. I was frustrated and grumpy, I reproached him, and, when it lasted for a longer period of time, I started to put emotional distance between us. I just could not help it. Even when I wanted to show patience, because I knew that my grumpiness made him even less inclined to having sex with me, I just couldn’t help it. My frustration showed through…”

I think that her response was very human, very natural. It was not a solution to her problem, but a means of dealing with her feelings. Alas, this approach seldom works.

In the earlier days of our marriage I was caring but immature. Regardless of how much sex we had, it was not enough for me. In my lack of satisfaction I did push my wife. She complied some of the time, but the result was not what I had expected. Years later, when I reached my epiphany, I changed my approach to avoid all requests of her of any nature, especially sexual. Amazingly, she became calmer, and began to enjoy sex more. I was still unsatisfied, but that was just the mismatch of our libidos.

As for holding a grudge or becoming distant, well, I recognize the feelings that prompted me to do them in the past. They are destructive behaviors, which I no longer practice especially with her. Having sex with others is not an option that either of us would contemplate. Our commitment to each other is supreme in all respect, of which sex is just one.

I am not a submissive man. I have taken charge most of my life. Still, my very strong preference in sex is to submit, and to submit to any extent that my wife could demand. Our relationship in or outside of the bedroom can be described to an extent but not one hundred percent, as D/S where I am the S part by choice, and only between the two of us. My submissiveness covers most of our lives together, and my dominance surfaces only in rare circumstances where I must take clear and immediate action. This may sound like a lot of unnecessary explanation by the guilty. I just want to be sure to demonstrate that my submission to her is not entirely based on sex. There is a difference. When a man submits to a woman only because of the kind of sex he receives in return, he is happy. If she withholds that kind of sex, at some point he reverts to his own D/S standing, and the submission to her is officially over.

MW and I have an understanding: I serve, she enjoys. There is no contract, there is no threat of consequences (although I wish there were), and there are no fights or arguments. Under the circumstances I don’t spend all day serving her with no time left for myself. Quite the opposite. Most of my work is done on time, and if not, there is always tomorrow. This relationship does not preclude anything that she or we decide to do at any time. She hints about sex play, spanking, and such, and I don’t discourage her. If she is not taking action, she will do any or all when she is ready, assuming I am still able to comply.

She has problems that are outside the scope of our D/S relationship, but have major impact on it. Without first solving those problems, more than just sex will suffer. She is working on it, and I try to be supportive. Meanwhile I try to enjoy all the other good things in life.

What Is Left?

2011-06-18T13:16:00.000-07:00

We spend a lot of time together when we are free to do so. We enjoy each other’s company. We have fun. When we are free she does what she wants, and I do what I want to a certain extent. For example, she does not restrict my Internet access to any site or to any time or length of time. She lets me do my work at my pace and my convenience, for she knows that all will be done. She does not want to be in charge, she just prefers to have her way since I make it possible.

She is not throwing crumbs at me as gifts, a-la-Rika. But that goes much deeper. I miss our all-inclusive FLR of a short three years ago. What we have left is like a former priceless work of art displayed on a pedestal. At some point it fell and shattered. We could put some of the pieces together and the result would be a reasonable approximation of the original. However, with the small pieces missing or beyond repair, the result would never be as good. Erosion succumbs to entropy. The longer we wait, the less chance there is of finding the crucial pieces that would make things work.

It’s not that we could not still have fantastic sex without resuming the old customs. Even vanilla people, whom we have become sexually, can have that. During our best days she was satisfied with occasional sex, whereas I was driven by it daily. I never insisted, never gave her a hard time about our differences. She knew how I felt and we often joked about it.

I said earlier that I have some guesses about her view of things. At first she was regretful about not being able to have penetrating sex. Then she began to feel guilty, which transferred to any other kind of sex that we used to have. She was waiting until she was perfect again to try. With her, perfection is in everything she does. If it is not perfect, she abandons it. Later on she could not decide how to resume any of the old activities, and that just added to her regret and guilt. Now she is embarrassed about beginning anything related to sex. We talk freely, never fight, and don’t even have an argument. If I don’t agree with something I say so, and take it no further. We don’t talk about sex. I don’t want to cause her stress over it, and she does not bring it up for the reasons I guess and explain here.

The years of joy we have missed weigh on my mind. Someone young can begin anew and then get over it. Alas, we are not in a position to do so. We have what we have, and go with it. We can choose to make the best of it, or maintain status quo. One of the commenters on the previous post guesses that ours may be a “service oriented vanilla” relationship. I think he is right. Until three years ago we were fully in an FLR with a fair amount of sex and D/S, as you can read on my early posts. Lately, however, the formal D/S and the sex components have been on hold. I am not sure where we are heading with this.

The Events Leading Up To This Scenario

2011-06-11T09:27:00.000-07:00

About three years ago I wrote on this blog that she was in need of surgery. The conditions that required it did not allow regular penetrative sex at that point. She said, “When I get fixed, we will be back to normal.” It took close to a year, but she did get fixed. During that time she also put on hold any other kind of sex. No D/S or S/M play, no edging, no masturbation, no kinky stuff. After her surgery she took time to recover, but has been well as far as I knew. However, the sex we used to have is still on hold. It is now close to three years along our one-way trip to entropy. I did report on occasional chastity play. In one instance she actually started sex, and had me enter her in the usual manner. That I could not achieve orgasm, regardless of how horny and hard I remained, was not her fault. I guess I had too many irrelevant issues on my mind. The event was still good, and I would not mind repeating it. She did not critique, did not say how satisfied or dissatisfied she was with my on the spur of the moment performance.

You might say, “Why the hell don’t you talk to her? Find out what she wants!” It does not work that way with her. Either she starts something and I comply, or nothing happens. I will not go into an explanation of why that is to protect our privacy.

Ironically we still have a female led relationship more so than some of the formal FLR’s that we read about. I am polite and respectful, and supportive with her. I never lecture or reprimand. I don’t belittle or make fun. We are spiritually and physically close and compatible. I would do anything for her, and she knows it. Yet, she is missing the pleasure she used to derive from my almost daily full body massages of her beautiful parts. She probably misses the selfless orgasms I used to give her when she was in receptive moods. It may be petty of me to withhold all that, but I am human. I have never been able to be totally selfless for long. At some point I need a reward for my services. That is why this is different from Rika’s service oriented submission.

Final installment: “What Is Left?”

My Case of Service Oriented Submission

2011-06-04T09:29:00.000-07:00

I have not talked about this much on my blog, but the relationship I have with my wife can be called a service oriented submission. It does not resemble to a large degree what Rika had presented. I will present it from my point of view, for I don’t know whether my wife considers this relationship as service oriented submission. In any case, I can only guess about her point of view, which I will mention later.

I do home and structure maintenance, yard work, cleaning, etc. I do new projects, improvements, and all the work for her when she needs help on some art project or such. She never has to prompt me to do such work, it just gets done. Occasionally she points out something that I may not be doing right. Sometimes she does some work because my results may not be entirely satisfactory or up to her standards.

We live in a semi-rural area, outside of town, on a large lot. We have many pets. Twice daily I feed, water, dispense medication, and clean pet areas. Every few days or as often as necessary I do major cleaning. I take pets to the vet for checkups, etc. I keep up with all schedules associated with them, and make plans for someone to do the pet maintenance when MW and I are gone on trips once or twice a year.

We have no opportunity to use public transportation. She prefers not to drive a vehicle in general, so I drive her everywhere. We do all the shopping together, doctors’ appointments, her art business, restaurants, and family visits. At home she has me fetch things for her from downstairs or upstairs, drinks, snacks, loading the clothes drier, folding clothes, etc.

She has no interest in accounting, bookkeeping, investments, tax preparation, banking and such, so all that reverts to me. We do discuss major decisions, but about the details I just give her the bottom line when she asks for it. Everything is available for her to see, but her mind is on other things. I do tell her when we are short of funds between paydays to try to avoid running out. I don’t buy anything for myself without first discussing it with her.

She likes to cook, so she does most of our meals. My involvement in nutrition preparation is limited to barbecues, drinks, refreshments, snacks, and my breakfasts and lunches. She spends her time any way that she wants to. She, for some reason I don’t know, prefers to do the clothes washing, and hand over to me the drying and folding. Fine with me.

I deal with everybody outside the home at her request. Only on rare occasions does she need to participate, typically when her presence is required by a third party. Otherwise I make all phone calls and deal with authorities and vendors.

I am willing to do a lot more, but that would be up to her. When she asks, I comply unless the required action would be grossly impractical, in which case I try to present suitable alternatives.

Now, I ask you, “Which part of the above is not service oriented submission?” I don’t get paid for this, for we live in a community property state, and we are married. As for other compensations, well read on.

Next installment: “The Events Leading up to This Scenario”

My Service Oriented Submission Revealed

2011-05-26T17:48:00.000-07:00

In this series of posts I will explain the reasons for some of my views that one could call, among other things, jaundiced. I prefer to call it experienced. I have experienced good things. I have had expectations come to fruition, and then subsequent frustrations. I have experienced the irony of many submissive man’s dreams: chastity and denial. I will now put this into the context of my reality. The subjects I will present are

Formalized Service Oriented Relationship
My Case of Service Oriented Submission
The events Leading up to This Scenario
What Is Left?

Formalized Service Oriented Relationship

Looking over my earlier postings there is evidence of evolution of my views. I may be contradicting my earlier pontifications, but I have to say some things. I don’t know whether I am experiencing an early onset of senility or a late acquisition of wisdom that seems to have afflicted me. Nevertheless, my thinking is evolving.

The moment I returned to Rika’s book pecipitated this revelation. When I first read this book I was enamored by her views, her applied methods, and what she was trying to teach to would-be-dominant females who may not have had any interest in domination other than from time to time in the bedroom. A few years downstream, as I mentioned in my previous post after re-reading of her book “Uniquely Rika” I became disenchanted with her approach to handling her submissive men. Her method is unworkable in general. Her main theme, service oriented submission is being discussed in blogs lately. In most cases it is with the naïve view that I presented in my early posts.

One of these blogs is different. I was trying to catch up with the postings of one of my blogosphere friends, Scott, who appears wanting to work with his wife Em to turn his voluntary servitude into more service oriented submission. See I always Want More written by Em. If the direct link does not work, try to navigate back to the March 20, 2011 post. Their situation, however, is much different from what Rika advocates. For one thing, Scott and Em are real in a real life D/S marriage. Em seems to like mental torture by cuckolding, mild humiliation, and promises of physical punishment. The promised punishment may be for real or perceived misdeeds of Scott, or simply because she needs to unwind after a stressful week by whipping, binding, caging, and doing other delectable treats with Scott the lucky target. Given all that, the only resemblance to Rika’s method is the name: service oriented submission. She actually wants Scott to get off on serving her regardless of what she does to or for him in return. There is no problem, however. Scott is perfectly willing to hone his skill at gracious service to his loving wife, for he knows that she needs it, and she never neglects him. In their relationship her motivation is self-satisfaction just like Rika’s. The difference is that she actually enjoys treating Scott. Unlike in Rika’s relationship, these are not “rare” or “occasional” gifts unrelated to Scott’s behavior. There is love and satisfaction for both parties.

The unique case of Rika's requires two people of specific nature. One, selfish and uninvolved, devoid of love or attachment to a submissive. Her only investment is the time she had put into training him. The other requirement is a man who remains satisfied to serve her in all respects for an occasional crumb tossed his way that he can lick off the floor. He needs no recognition, no reciprocation of feelings, no safety, no escalation of pleasure, no evolution of the situation, no chance to state his needs. You can see how difficult it would be for two people to find each other and, especially, to stay together to fulfill these requirements. What she has is a man with no soul. What remains of his character is like the product of breaking a wild horse: he serves well and willingly, but his spirit is gone. Regardless of how good a boot-licker he is, at some point she would become bored with him. What happens then? Does she begin to pay attention to him and challenge him in ways other than adding more mind-numbing drudgery to his daily routine? That is unlikely, for that would be changing her basic premise of the service oriented submission that requires total servitude in exchange for absolutely no reward or recognition. The alternative is to get rid of this slave and find another.

She mentions communication, but then reverts to communicating her way: She tells, he listens. That is not communication. That is stating a request by one party with no recourse by the other. While Rika still had her blog up I once asked her a question. “I sometimes have problems that need to be discussed with my wife. If we follow your rules, I may never be able to voice them. How do I let her know?” She answered, “You don’t. That would be topping from the bottom.” I took her answer as trivial, and never asked another question from her.

Next installment: “My Case of Service Oriented Submission”

Tongue In Cheek

2011-05-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

I am a sucker for women of well-endowed features. They tend to abound at WalMart. Before you laugh your ass off, I want to state that this is not the only reason for my visiting this icon of American genius in retail marketing. I go there to buy lawn chairs, kitty litter, and an occasional box of ammunition for my various guns after I had used them for legal purposes. I know this is weird, but from time to time, I can find attractive females even at WalMart. I consider it slumming. This is no reference to the employees, but to the shoppers, of whom I am one.

Between getting my thrills with visits to see the WalMart fauna, I bring up websites occasionally to get some ammunition of a different type to replenish my supply. These sites present females of slightly higher presumed quality, for most of them appear washed, albeit, heavily made-up. I know, appearances can be deceiving. However, when my expectations are mostly limited to looks, pictures are, as we often say, perfect. Unless the soles of her feet show that she had been frequenting the WalMart parking lot barefooted, lack of cleanliness is not clearly discernible, so I can assume pristine qualities for the moment. With my hormones raising hell from below, I can be excused of going with those first looks: they are delicious. They are the caliber of female that I imagine would feel good under my fingers and tongue. But that is just a mental hobby without any possibility of physical fulfillment. I spend no effort or tangible resources to pursue it further than looking on my wide-screen monitor. I imagine. I wish. And then I go on to more justifiable pursuits, such as reading world news, and making indignant comments at the reported and recorded stupidity of our elected representatives at the federal, state, and local level. After a while I return to the women of large caliber for rest and relaxation, which brings up the subject of this post: my tongue between some cheeks.

In support of my part-time hobby I want to leave you with something pleasant. She is not exactly WalMart material. Given the context, heavy makeup is not an issue. Not being clean is defined only by the quality of the river water in which she has obviously dipped as evidenced by her damp hair and the sun reflecting off her wet skin. She has a natural beauty without artificial means, background, lights, or paraphernalia. Sure, being young helps, but I suspect that her beauty transcends her weight and her age. She would attract a regular human male plus or minus many pounds of weight and years. The second picture is even more earthy. You can see the hot sand clinging to her perspiring body. A dip in the surf with her would be lovely.

Chastity Without Being Asked

2011-05-01T14:14:00.000-07:00

There is a lot of material on the blogs about chastity primarily on the man’s part so to speak. On the woman’s part, well, the other side is advocated: chaste men, promiscuous women. Why is that? Is it a form of reparation for past injustices in which the men were usually the ones to stray from marital vows? Is it just another form of submissive self-abuse by men? Is it another form of dominance by the feminist movement? Is this good or evil? Will this right wrongs? Will this make both sexes happy?

I admit that I am fascinated by the trend, if it is a trend. At the least, I am intrigued by the details that men and women involved in this subject add to the discussion. It is fun to see newcomers asking for help, even adding naïve, but to them, authoritative views as they see it. It is somewhat sad to see experienced but on the way to disillusion views of some who have done it and found it less than a lifetime commitment. Between the two there is a lot to be appreciated, to be amused by, and even to learn from.

I cannot really add to the primary reason for male chastity. All has been said, even invented. There are those who want to stop excessive masturbation, those who just get off on this very specific form of bondage and discipline. Then there is the fantasy partner who forces the men into chastity through physical force, blackmail, avarice, or just plain sexual traps. Regardless of the source of the sexual style, the details are endless, female dominant, and cater to men’s need for attention. Sure, we are, or can be aloof, show no emotion, and go through the dangerous avenues of life with stoic manliness. However, when it comes to an understanding female, we drop all that and salivate at her pheromones. They have us by our ovoidal testosterone containers and we love it.

What we love even more is a physical containment in addition to the mental and primal. Primal is the willingness to follow her female scent against all odds. Mental is the fixation on her only even in the absence of any tangible reminder of the warmth, charm, goodness, pain, suffering of which she is capable to induce on us. The physical containment is an added spicy enticement to remember her, and only her, as long as she has the key and at the same time provides constant or frequent reminders of our dependence on her. Sure, we could smash the damned cage and whack off any time. But few of us would dare, for that would jeopardize a deep relationship, which we somehow nurtured even unknowingly: remaining loyal to her in spite of our nature, against all temptation, against our better judgment, against our physical needs.

Here I am, for the moment, without a chastity device installed by her or by her order. I could do self-gratification any time. Yet I choose to abstain with the hope that she will need me soon and I want to be ready and able for her. I could have release, and be ready for her in no time. But there is guilt in doing so. She has not asked me or told me to be chaste to that extent. Am I being foolish? Am I wasting my pleasure? Am I wasting my time?

Rika Revisited

2011-04-27T18:20:00.000-07:00

In spite of what I say in this post, the book, “Uniquely Rika” is worth reading. I have had it on the side bar to say exactly that. However, you will have to weigh its implications, for your future is at stake.
When first reading it I was on a hormonal high with a fully established FLR. I read and understood what I thought she was saying in her book. I remember liking the book much when I first encountered it. I remember feeling that I could be hers in a fantasy scenario as she described her views. Now, over three years later, things are different. I have a logical base from which to assess her presentation of the subject. I have re-read the book with a clear mind.

Rika in the first page of the book says, “ … many couples have attempted to establish working D/s relationships. Surprisingly, most fail in the long run. Why should this be?”

Have you asked yourself? Have you come up with an answer? I have some answers.

Uniquely Rika is based on a flawed assumption that men want to be submissive, but are fixated on the assumed ideal of a pornography mistress of whip and stylized femdom-wear. They cannot distinguish between their fetish and their innate submissiveness. She will set that straight so that the men will know right from wrong. Right. Exactly as she sees it.

Some men are confused on that subject. They may be addicted to the shallow unattractive females portrayed by the media in artificial background and no substance. They have not developed a relationship with an understanding female. All they have is their fantasy even when married and with children. I despise the stereotype dominatress, and maintain that my personal fetish does not support the porno industry. I find it disgusting and boring. At the same time I don’t diminish any man’s wishes for fantasy fulfillment as long as it is non-injurious to self or others. They are no worse than any women’s wishes for the same or for benign romantic play. So, starting with the flawed assumption I will elaborate on the book.

Contrary to Rika’s claim, a man needs more than to simply satisfy his need to serve and subsequently be allowed to do so by a woman. Rika’s service oriented submissive is happy just to serve even though his original needs and whishes are not met or even addressed. That is a gross assumption by her, and nowhere substantiated by her or in literature.

She is talking about the supposed fetish that men have for being whipped by a skinny abrasive woman clad in ridiculous leather and rubber outfit. Such man would be a fool to want that and to try to live with 24/7/365. Still, in spite of my aversion to the stereotypical whip-wielding dominatress, I believe that if a man needs just that, he should get it from time to time. As for the simple solution of transforming a man into Rika’s service oriented submissive, it might work on one who is at heart a submissive and has no higher aspirations. It is also easy when her household is simple: up to three bedrooms, no pets, no yard work, few if any children. In other words, an hour or so a day keeps the home clean, rest of the time can be devoted to full-time servitude to the mistress of the home. It is good if one can afford it. Alas, few of us can be kept servants without working for a living on the side. When having to work for a living, personal service for the mistress cuts into sleep time. I know how it is to sleep three hours a day for months without a break.

The “Deal” in chapter three of the book (on page 47 of printed version) is neat and seems fair: he serves, she enjoys. That is what the basic premise is supposed to be, also assumed to be a submissive man’s dream. Alas, nothing is as simple as she presents it. Her rules work in her case only and maybe in some few cases with truly submissive men and the women who are cold and calculating about taking advantage of it.

She talks about making routines to allow her dealing with fewer responsibilities and him more things to do. She says, ”The obvious benefit is that we end up with an ever-expanding, prioritized list of tasks for him to do and a schedule for him to follow to get them done. Once on the list, he can put the task out of his mind. … frees up his time to take on more tasks.” I think that her message is appropriate for young people where the man has not taken responsibility for much, he tends to waste his time on games and video entertainment, and wifey is stuck with the work. For more responsible males already doing realistic home maintenance it is a farce. As much as some of them might want to do personal service for the female in charge, there is only so much time in a day, and one must sleep to survive the next day.

Full time service without compensation is unreal regardless of how kinky the man is. Lack of compensation is Rika’s prime directive. She talks of gifts to be bestowed on occasion just to keep the slave from rebelling under the yoke of her imposed tyranny, but not giving him the idea that he is rewarded for good behavior. Some of us have a problem with that.

Rika simplifies the control that she offers over what she assumes to be submissive men. In her experience it worked. Her experience with submissive men may be limited to one or two possibilities. One possibility is that she is or was a professional dominant whom men pay for her services. Her exposure to and control and observation of these assumed submissive men were limited only to her workplace. It would be limited to these customers who were returning for the coveted mistreatment. That would be mistreatment that she dismisses as undesirable fetish by men that should be channeled into service oriented submission to a woman. She does not know how these men performed on the long run on their own. In addition, an assumed submissive man performs a certain way with a professional, but that is no indication of how he will perform with a personal partner in real life. Now, if she is talking about real experience with respect to her husband, I am somewhat confident that she is telling the truth. That may be where she has collected all of this wisdom, albeit, limited in scope. If true, the problem is, this particular experience is based on one man. We are all different. What worked between her and her husband does not make a general rule. Some of her rules may apply over a short time, but they are not applicable to all men all the time, not even to her husband that she claims to love. There is no such rule.

She advocates communication. That is a platitude, no different from saying, “I like nice. Nice is nice.” Some people are incapable of communication. They are capable of yelling, berating, hurting, whining, playing victim, etc., but communication to resolve issues is beyond them. That leaves out a large segment of the population. Sure, it is best to try to communicate. Did that work in your case?

She explains Rules of Engagement:

You [the female] decide if and when you play
These are gifts you’re giving him …
They should never be confused with his service to you …
When you’re done playing, things go back to normal …

This is fine if you are giving him gifts and that is all he will ever want. If he is a true slave, than his feelings are of no concern. Otherwise, he will falter. Not many of us are true slaves.

At the end I think that she is more warped than the professional dominatresses. Professionals do it for the money. She does it, if she is honest, from conviction. She wants service. She promises nothing. Only a foolish man would go into such relationship with her. Despite her claim to love her husband, her words refute them. Her manipulations in chapter 5 (starting on page 66) are cold. They simply treat a symptom that she would rather not, but realizes that one must pay the bills. There is no love, not even liking in her description of what a woman should do to her submissive man on “Simple Gifts” (page 68 an on). She says, “ … [in] D/s relationship the focus is on what the man can do for the woman rather than what the woman does to the man. In this context the concepts of limits and safe-words do not apply …” I am not much for safe words, for I don’t care for role acting where “no” means “yes”, etc. However, completely detaching herself from what the man wants and needs is perverse. She may as well hire some schmuck from skid row to mistreat and not deal with the continuous education of her in-house submissive man. I know, some of you men out there think, “Hey, that’s exactly what I want!” Right. You might want that for a sex scene or maybe for a weekend before you return to your normal life. As for living with it, well, maybe, if you are bent that way, which is not true for most of us.

I am disillusioned with her book and her view. Although both have some useful qualities, she destroys the good with her cold execution of her rule. You can use the book as an instruction manual for many things in D/S and have fun on the short term. In chapter 6 and subsequent she presents many scenarios that can be kinky fun for both partners, but not in her ice-queen setting. As for applying it to your “submissive” man as a lifestyle, it is very unrealistic. Even if he is truly submissive he will have a problem with the execution of his sentence and consequently will rebel. I have my extreme and weird fantasies, but this is not one. I am strange when it comes to D/S, but I want to relate to and with a woman who has feelings for me, rather than just for herself. I guess you can call me a non-submissive.

Loving And Being In Love

2011-04-17T13:17:00.000-07:00

I follow many blogs. A favorite, one of the astute FLR advocate bloggers who goes with the moniker, She's a wonderful wife, elaborates on love and being in love although not with the purpose of distinguishing between the terms. Among other things he says, “Just seems to me that people who are married should be in love to the point where doing things for your significant other is what makes you happy! Ever since we've been married, I've done things for her that I only did because I knew she liked it.“

I feel his genuine wanting to please his wife. It is great when long married people feel that way, rather than looking outside of marriage to fulfill their needs to love and to serve.

I was in love before I married my sweetheart. That feeling may have precipitated my committing to love and honor her in our subsequent marriage forever as long as we both shall live. I have kept that feeling, but there are other issues as we mature in a relationship. The all-powerful feeling of being in love is no longer a driving force in our life. Love is. We do things for each other out of genuine love whether it is a partner, children, or close friends. Those things range from mundane through tedious to unpleasant. The sexual favors are just the icing on the cake when it comes to doing it between committed partners.

I could live and die doing sexual favors for her. She turns me on just by her presence, and then some. I crave giving her pleasure in any way that she desires. However, I don’t equate that with love or even being in love. Most of that is lust; the rest is a willingness to trade my sexual service for some attention from her. Of course, I also get a tremendous thrill out of seeing her beauty, getting high on her pheromones, feeling her softness under my fingers, and tasting her on my lips and fingers long after our love session is over. Truly, that enjoyment is all wired in my DNA and beyond my ability to control even if I wanted to do so. But I don’t think that is love. It is more of an addiction.

I am not suggesting that she is just a sex object. She is precious, she is my life, and she is the reason for my being. I cannot truthfully say that about any other woman. I cannot imagine being happy without her. However, serving her sexually is just what I said. It fuels my need to be subservient to her, and there is no more private and sensual way than giving her what she wants under all circumstances. Whether she reciprocates is up to her. Her loving me is not questionable. Her willingness to do some things that I would like is. We get together from time to time, but in spite of the many words of explanation over the years, we are still missing some meaning. Why else would we not make each other perfectly happy all the time?

Oh, I Am Chaste!

2011-04-15T14:05:00.000-07:00

For the last two and a half years she has not initiated sex with me. What that means is that we have had no sex together. She has had no sex, and I have been doing no more than occasional self-gratification.

About a week ago she found a book that I purchased maybe three years back, “Male Chastity a guide for keyholders”, and asked me “Did you leave that out for me?” Well, no. It has been under her nightstand all that time gathering dust. Interestingly, she started making prurient comments about chastity and such, and even said that she would follow up on it.

I am in charge of cleaning our huge house. Since I expected to be in uniform (my natural state) all the time when at home, I clean the house as such. During the winter and early spring I tried to avoid any housework that includes the use of water where it could splash on me. Now that the weather is in the seventies, I have less resistance to wet house work. This morning she reminded me that the mistress bathroom needs cleaning, and that I would be wearing some chastity device. She suggested for me to get the old CB-2000. Wow! This is new.

We have played with chastity devices over the years: Kali’s Teeth, CB-2000, CB-3000, and some lesser toys. Kali’s Teeth is not a long-term device by any means. If you don’t believe, try it. The CB-XXXX is ok, and works, just that I could not keep it on for longer than a week or so for extreme pain conditions, and the unhealthy swelling of my foreskin. Even with that, the device had to be removed every couple of days for thorough cleaning so that I don’t end up smelling like a public men’s urinal.

In the last few months of our sparse sex play I bought a PA-5000 after having read some comments by happy users. I did email her a link to the web site where I bought it, but she did not comment on it. When the device arrived in the mail I tried it on when I knew I had a few hours alone, and I liked it. Since I am usually in uniform, I could not keep it on with her around. For that reason I had the device in the closet for a few months. A week ago she went on a two-day trip. I took that as an opportunity to try the PA-5000. I felt guilty, but also thrilled with it. I wore it for about 48 hours continuously. Here are the conclusions.

The measurement instructions on the web site followed, I got the proper size, so it fits as it is supposed to.
There is no discomfort such as the burning balls, swollen foreskin, and bulging and pinched skin through the gaps that I experienced with the CB-XXXX.
There is no need to remove it for cleaning. When I shower I simply wash the little guy as usual, and all is clean. A hand-held shower spray does a fine job.
When urinating with the CB-XXXX standing up (in a public restroom) I always worried about dribbling onto my legs or onto the floor, since the project no longer had the “fire hose” attribute. With the PA-5000, things work as if I had the little guy free: straight out into the urinal, no dribble, no mess.
At home I always sit to urinate. Afterward I splash some water over the captive cock, and all is fresh and clean subsequently.
There is no pain due to nighttime erection. Sure, I had tremendous hard-ons with this device on, but there is no pain.
It does not feel like I am not wearing anything down there. It has weight, the tip of the little guy does not touch things as much as if it were free, and when I lie face down, such as in exercising, I need to manually move it to avoid trouble. Other than that, it is just a mild thrill to wear it. Of course, there is the mind-fuck that goes with it. There is no chance of masturbation, blowjob, or penetrating intercourse with it on. An orgasm is strictly one way, pointed away from me.

Day one

After her declaring that I will be in chastity while working on the bathroom, I tentatively suggested that we might have a better device than the CB-XXXX. She asked, and I explained what I had done. She told me to fetch it. We sat on the edge of the bed while she watched me put it on. She took the key to the embedded lock. I explained that there is no way to remove it without the key or breaking the device, and that I have not found a way to masturbate with it on. She said it looks good, and she wants to take some pictures. I suggested that the pictures would be more dramatic with my erection, but that erections have been scarce lately except during the nights. She said she could come up with one for the occasion.

I spent about two hours cleaning the bathroom, not that it was that filthy, but it is large, and has many thing in it, so it takes a lot of time. It is now several hours later, and I am happy that finally I can wear the device with her knowledge and request.

Day two

I have a large room in which I have gathered a fair amount of weight lifting equipment over the years. I usually work out at home. The last two weeks I have gone to a public place where they do physical therapy for rehabilitation and strengthening relevant parts of the body. I have had some back problems, so I followed a strict regimen of exercises under the supervision of the therapist in addition to my normal daily heavy duty weight lifting at home. There was no problem with the PA-5000, nevertheless, I was concerned. One exercise involved rolling face down over a huge exercise ball. When my encased cock was between me and the ball, I thought that the plastic device might break, and embarrass me by the pieces falling down my pant legs. It did not happen. The other concern was when the therapist was manually stretching my legs and indirectly putting weight on my crotch. I expected a “crunch” any second. That too, did not happen. Maybe I worry too much.

MW was awake when I was about to get out of bed this morning. She took off her shirt and displayed the world’s most beautiful pair of breasts. I already had a semi erection, and that helped to keep it alive. She began to tease my on-off buttons (sometimes referred to as tits) to create a magnificent albeit captive hard cock. She was regretful that she did not have her camera on hand. It so happens that mine was there from last night, so she took a couple of pictures. Alas, my erection began to subside due to the shift of her attention, and the pictures did not do it justice. I might publish some anyway.

She is still planning to brand my ass. I mentioned that the therapist usually applies a couple of patches to my butt as part of an electrical stimulation. Well, it stimulates me in other respects too. She is one of those women who look absolutely healthy. She is trim and feminine, but looks strong. Her wide hips are encased in jeans that appear is if painted on. She wears tight shirts to equally great advantage. If I were young and single I would try something.

Back to the patches, I mentioned the placement of such to MW, and pointed out that I would find it embarrassing to try to explain the brand on my butt. She said something about applying a band-aid to the fresh burn. A huge band-aid. We will see.

Trouble with the Practice of Tease-And-Deny

2011-03-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

There are many blogs that advocate some degree of female led relationships ranging from a man staying home and becoming a housewife to becoming a total slave to a woman. Many of those favor the sexual satisfaction of the male controlled by the dominant partner. Most of these are written by men even when they claim to be women.

There are relatively few blogs dealing with the subject of tease-and-deny where the female admits to enjoying it when applying it to her partner. We are not even sure that some of those female-written blogs are authentic.

Looking at it from the point of view of a self-proclaimed submissive man, he will not voluntarily submit to drudgery and oppression by a woman without expecting some thrills for his troubles. Although a man, who is not necessarily submissive, may also want to submit in particular ways, he will similarly expect to receive some thrills from his woman. Let’s face it, a preference for voluntary submission of any nature is or at least borders on a sexual preference. In simple words, we call it a kink. Tease-and-deny fits in there perfectly, and I will show what the problem is, and why it occurs.

If you read patiently through the rest of this monolog you may want to refute my assertions by your own anecdotal evidence: citing an instance when this practice of tease-and-deny is working. Fine, if it is working for you. Just keep in mind that one instance does not make it true in general. You also have to ask, “How long has it worked? Is it continuous?”, and “Is it permanent?” I wish that I were wrong about this. Alas, that is not so.

Becoming Dominant by Decree

Before I get into this I will state that naturally dominant women have no problem dealing with intelligent and naturally submissive men. It is the other combinations that are troublesome.

There are a number of problems when the role of dominance is forced onto a woman whether or not she is vanilla or dominant already. Submissive people like to be forced in limited circumstances. Some dominants will go along with it when it titillates their kink. Those near 50/50 and above on the submissive-to-dominant scale will resist. Those closer to dominant will fight.

I am convinced that if people are left to their own devices when they are expected to be dominant, they don’t change. If conditions are right they might accommodate the circumstances and do something out of kindness for a while. The problem is, it is not natural for any person to do this. The would-be dominant woman may learn the technique expected of her by her relatively submissive man from various sources. She may learn the advantages to her. However, on the long run she will revert to her natural inclination. She is expected to perform in a way that is contrary to her being naturally dominant or dominant by decree. If she is dominant already, then she need not do anything that her submissive partner expects, after all, she wants to run the show as she sees fit. Yet the submissive partner truly expects certain things from her. So there is a logical contradiction in the requirements that leads to strife.

I have read many postings by men expressing their frustration about “Her not understanding the problem, therefore, not following through with the tease-and-deny”. They claim that even after a number of attempts at explanation, hints, offer of reading material, their women “just don’t get it”.

I believe that the women do get it. An intelligent woman understands this kinky submissive need very well. This is especially so after reading authoritative articles and books on it (I am not talking about reading the fantasy of some illiterate blogger). The problem is not lack of understanding, but lack of purpose. Every time she senses that her submissive man needs more tease-and-denial it is a chore for her that should not be assigned to a supposedly dominant woman. To a man expecting it, her reluctance makes no sense. After all, he is not asking for blatant sex. He is not asking for penetrating intercourse. All he is asking for is sexual domination by her and occasional release. In other words, “Here is the script, please follow it.”

It takes two to have a relationship. The submissive man’s part is passive. All he needs to do is follow her orders. The supposedly dominant woman’s part is active. Regardless of what the man thinks, the woman has the responsibility of planning the scenario, laying out the props, and then executing the scenario. She is also likely to do a self-evaluation afterward, “Is this what he expected? Did I satisfy him? How in hell can I be dominant and still do what he says or expects of me?”

Unless she gets a sexual thrill out of this blatant sexual kink of her submissive partner, or out of the power she has over him, she will not do it; at least, not for long, and not often. I coined the term “ignore and deny” by paraphrasing the tease-and-deny idea in a couple of my earlier postings. Ignore-and-deny fits very well into the behavior and expectations of a woman whether she is dominant or just playing dominant: it is much easier to maintain than tease-and-deny. If a man desiring tease-and-deny feels being ignored, she does not see it that way. She may feel that his being denied satisfies her obligations. If he tries to explain again, she will just feel guilty or angry or both, and the man will get nowhere. These men may as well get used to it.

Still, It Works In Short Spurts, Sort Of …

One might say that even in a vanilla relationship a woman will do things for her partner simply because she loves him and knows that he needs it. Yes she will do that sometimes, but not often enough. This is why many men wish to be in a female led relationship, and consequently become the object of tease-and-denial. That last wish validates his lack of adequate sexual satisfaction. If he achieves those two wishes, then the result will legitimize his not getting enough sex.

If she goes along with his need for tease-and-deny, she is doing something for him out of love. But don’t expect the whole nine yards 24/7/365. Even her parts would wear out if she tried. A somewhat reasonable alternative to tease-and-deny is offered by chastity play that comes with built-in denial. If she leaves most of the details to her man, then she need not do much, which supports both tease and the ignore version of denial. There are problems with these too, which I may cover in another post. The trouble is that practicing the mythical forced chastity will not change a thing. The long-term maintenance of this new kink is still her responsibility, and she will handle it the same way: ignore it.

This attitude by the woman is not because of the particulars of tease-and-deny and ignore-and-deny. If the man has other kinks that don’t work without her support, he is just as much up the creek without a paddle. Vanilla marriages and relationships break because of the woman’s unwillingness to support his kink. Kink needs maintenance for satisfied relationships, and maintenance is expensive in time, attention, effort, etc. That is how professional dominants make a living.

Rules of Dominance and Submission

2011-03-18T14:34:00.000-07:00

Someone new to the D/S game will immediately be aroused on reading rules of dominance and submission as long as they are well written by his standards. For example, I have seen several contracts written mostly by would-be male submissives as to how to behave with respect to their (imaginary or real) dominatresses. However, after reading a lot, maybe even practicing the discipline, one comes up with rules that apply in his or her case, and don’t necessarily apply to another submissive or dominant. With rare exception, D/S is not a religious doctrine that must be followed by the believers regardless of their position.

I am amused when a dominant woman proudly exclaims, “My submissive male has no rights except those that I allow him. He will do no more, nor less, than I prescribe…” Similarly, a submissive male claims that he will follow his mistreatesses’ orders to the letter, he expects nothing in return but to serve her, … OK, these are hypothetical characters created from the stuff that is out there masquerading as real relationships. If you do enough reading, you will run across them.

Most of us (notice, not “all of us”) who have some obvious dominant or submissive leaning could go with the above two caricatures for a short time, say a weekend, and probably enjoy it much. Very few of us could go with the roles they described on a long-term basis. Similarly, few of us would be likely to go with them forever, unless dying on the job. That leaves most of us dominants and submissives to follow our own rules. These rules intersect with rules of others, but are by no means the same.

When a dominant says, “There is no need for me to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ when dealing with my submissive,” it is just her opinion based on her rules. When a submissive says, “My domina must tell me what I am allowed to do, how and when to do it, and punish me if I fail, and here is how she will …” he is similarly making his own rules. Some of us love these rules, others laugh at them.

If everybody followed the same strict rules, and wrote about how they live with them, there would be no interest in our reading about them. What makes reading about them interesting is how different the rules are, and how differently we react to them.

The behavior and demeanor of a dominant can range from firm but polite to sadistic and crude. When the D/S relationship is consensual, the submissive will find just the right combination offered by the dominant, and both will be happy at first. Over time they each may stretch their own and their partner’s limits. That trend is part of keeping a relationship vital and viable.

Pornographers often make the mistake of portraying dominants in a narrow stereotypical fashion, which makes their product trivial at best, annoying and offensive often. An example is a woman without redeeming features who is wielding a whip. I always say, “It’s not what you have, but what you do with it …” that counts. But, if she is unattractive, uses a nasal, whiny shrill voice, bad grammar, and badly improvised monolog while incompetently trying to impart some pain to a hapless male, the whole production is wasted. “To each his own,” to be sure, however, I have my limits. This is why I am still searching in vain for any video that would interest me to spend more than a few seconds of my time.

I don’t have rules for my own purposes, but do have preferences:

I like a dominant woman who does not feel the need to scream or to use profanity.
I like a dominant woman who knows what she wants and knows how to take it.
I like a dominant woman who does not mind causing pain for her submissive, but knows her and his limits. I don’t believe in using “safe words”. To me “yes” means yes, and “no” means no, and so it should be for her.
I like a dominant woman who is polite and caring while she can be strict and firm to any extent.
I like a dominant woman who can impart pleasure as readily as pain to her submissive. She knows just the right amount to satisfy herself.
I like a dominant woman who can give me instruction to the extent that I need them to accomplish my task, thereby assume that I am intelligent.

Note that none of the above precludes role-playing, or prescribes what she or I can do. I have preferences, but the scenario is hers to plan and to execute. Her looks, age, size, shape, and weight are not prescribed either. What she wears, what she says, what she uses is up to her. She can be totally her sweet self or a dominating bitch anywhere any time. She can be vanilla but with an edge that tells me that as sweet as she is, she is still in charge. She can show me off as her submissive, or play with the straights and pretend that I am in charge. As long as she is clean and healthy I am all hers.

Of course, all this is moot, since I am not in a position to be looking for a dominant woman of my dreams: I am married to MW for life.

As a support to my treatise I am posting a poll on the subject, titled, “What Kind of D/S Do You Prefer?” If you are a switch you can answer both sets of questions. There are two categories: dominance and demeanor. Although they can overlap, they describe different traits.

If you are dominant, which of the following dominance and demeanor traits fit you best? Pick one in each category.

Caring, firm, demanding, abusive, sadistic
Polite, civil, careless, rude, crude on purpose

If you are submissive, which kind of dominant do you prefer? Pick one in each category.

Caring, firm, demanding, abusive, sadistic
Polite, civil, careless, rude, crude on purpose

Due to the limited space and capability of the polling tool provided by my blogger ISP, the new poll on the right is slightly different, but still workable.

Why Do Some Men Crave Forced Chastity?

2011-03-05T13:22:00.000-08:00

Before I get into the subject I want to cover I have some questions. I am using Google Blogger to present and publish my blog. For a couple of weeks now the disclaimer page that warns users of the potentially sexual content of the blog shows up in German instead of English. I have not done anything on purpose to cause this. The Google support is inaccessible, so there is nobody to ask. Does anyone know why this changed from English to German? Does anyone know how to change it back?

From Horny Males to Horny Men

If men are getting all the sex that they need, chastity does not enter their mind. Most males don’t get enough, so in a way that is like chastity. Chastity can be imposed by self, by circumstances, or by another person.

Self-imposed chastity is a weird state of mind for little benefit or lack of good reason. I am sure that there are still religious and mystical reasons for it, but that is not the subject of this post.

Chastity imposed by circumstances is the most common. This is the reality when he would have sex, or at least his preferred way of sex, if he could meet the needs of the situation, which ranges from unlikely to impossible. Think of being marooned alone on a desert island, being in prison, or in some kind of medical condition that is not conducive to sex as he prefers it. There are many of us who go through this from time to time even without the above mentioned extreme circumstances. Prolonged illness, illness of a partner, shyness, being involved with some serious projects tend to limit access to preferred sex. Generally these are temporary, so a better word for it would be celibacy rather than chastity. However, the result is the same: he is not getting any.

The third reason for chastity is imposed by another person. This is rare, and in today’s civilized society makes little sense except for children and kinky adult play. Zeroing in on the most fun reason, that is kinky adult play, brings us to the subject suggested by the title of this post.

The horny state of a male is nature’s way to provide for females to become impregnated and thereby produce enough offsprings to ensure the survival of the species. Don’t blame this on men. The reason is much deeper than that: evolution presses on the viable. Those who are not horny die without viable offsprings. Of course, with today’s technology that is not necessarily a vital issue. The non-viable survive, and propagate to produce more non-viable offsprings, thereby ensuring reliance on science to survive. Then, when science fails, survival fails, and the rats will inherit Earth.

Narrowing “male“ to “man”, and his needs, one must admit that homo sapiens has come a long way to differentiate between ordinary rut and somewhat civilized satisfaction of the sexual urges. Aside from hunting and gathering to support the subsequent issues, there are social, moral, and financial implications of inserting a penis into a vagina.

In the last few decades of Western society any pimple-faced adolescent male became able to get satisfaction. When he wants oral, vaginal, or anal sex, a liberated female of whatever age will provide it. It is no longer a matter of “saving it for my love” issue. It has become “a moment satisfaction” goal. Sex is there for the taking.

In the rare case when the female refuses vaginal sex the man involved pursues his goal as he was programmed to do by a million years of evolution. He tries, he fails to succeed, he masturbates, and then he tries again. Over time he learns that deprivation of female approved sex has left him with wanting. Self-gratification works for the short term, but is much less satisfactory than being involved with a partner to provide true satisfaction. The external control is missing. She has to provide the challenge, the fangs, the claws, the software, the pheromones, in order to be fulfilled his attempt. Without these pleasure enhancers it is like … you know, self-gratification.

The average male, assuming some intelligence above the level of apes, makes a connection between self-imposed celibacy and enforced chastity. He is single or being without a partner to satisfy his urges. Even with a partner, he is missing the frequency that ranges from rare to never. The bottom line is, he is not getting enough. He thinks back to his teen-age years of wondering about things and having nothing but manual stimulation by his dominant hand, he realizes that things are not any better some years into his chronological adulthood.

Where Does He Get the Idea?

He has read pornography to learn the ways and means and to stimulate his urges. He knows that there are other ways than the dominant hand. He fantasizes and reads blogs and forums on subjects that relate to his need. He runs into the realm of chastity. Suddenly he is into hog heaven. He reads and responds to men of similar yearnings and experiences. He is horny. His sexual satisfaction graph is characterized by a flat line with occasional blips due to the dominant hand. He yearns for someone to do it to him in just about any way known to men. Even though the means are available by social intercourse, he is too shy, too ugly, too timid, or too busy to cash in on them. Then again, he may be in a relationship that has gone useless as far as mutual sex is concerned.

Mechanical Chastity

In his reading of the Internet he has run across ways of accomplishing this. Most prominent is the chastity fantasy where a key holder controls his frequency of sexual pleasure. He invests in some form of chastity device, installs it furtively on his parts, and gets a kick out of the experience. He tries to hide it from his partner until or when he figures out what might work with her. He runs into the same problems as legitimately chastised males: physical and physiological problems with the nasty device he is trying, and getting his partner interested if it works for him. He wastes more money going through the various devices and ways of acclimating himself to them. If he has a partner who does not know what he is doing, he has the problem of hiding his fetish. If his partner is aware but not willing, he needs to convince her that it would be in her interest. He thinks, “I’m not getting any because my partner isn’t interested. What if I could get her interested in denying my pleasure at her pleasure? At least I would have a reason to justify my being celibate? She could ignore me with a purpose! I would be in enforced chastity!”

Meanwhile, in spite of the problems with the device he is somewhat turned on for the nonce. It is no worse than having no experience in the real, but at as long as he is not getting any real sex, he can fantasize that he is being under chastity. It remains a thrill for a while. Then it wears off, and he releases himself. As pleasurable as the release was, he feels like a failure afterward. He is back to where he was before he first put on the first device: no sex. Is he going to re-install the chastity device? Will he wait a day or so before doing so? Will he think that next time will be better?

I am a man, so I don’t know for sure whether there are women who enjoy applying some form of chastity to their men for any reason even though this is the most coveted position by the men who want to be put into chastity. After some years of research and reading of blogs I have concluded that these women, if they exist, are rare. Men or men masquerading as women write most blogs and forum posts along these lines.

I feel that some women would prefer to keep their man’s pecker locked as a matter of convenience to them! As a result they would not have to deal with sloppy spills, grunting sweaty and prickly male bodies, and of course, pregnancy and the ensuing little rug rats. She could avoid doing some unpleasant work in exchange for satisfying a man’s weird needs.

Still, a majority of women like men, love to have sex with men, and are willing to put up with some inconvenience for the pleasure, safety, and comfort they receive as a partner. Then there are women who take the more positive approach of arranging all this for themselves, and the men in their relationship are in hog heaven. Then there is the rest …

Chastity Imposed on a Man

Putting a man into chastity is at the man’s discretion on the large. But why would he choose that? I think I know the reasons. The common denominator is that he is already not getting any or enough sex, so being put into chastity would not change that. His partner, who would or could otherwise provide his needed releases, is not doing it. What if he were to introduce her to this fetish? What if she takes it as a convenient out of dealing with his hornyness? He won’t be getting less sex, but at least he could rationalize that he is in the hands of a female who decides his pleasure, therefore it is beyond his control. He would still be getting nothing, but it would at least be because a woman decided so. The big difference is the external control.

Being Under Her Sexual Control

The problem is that the woman who does not want sex, or does not want it often, is the same woman who does not want to deal with the detailed fantasy of the man who started this process. Does she want to install the device on him? Does she want to release him for maintenance and cleaning? Does she want to prescribe when, where, how, and how frequently he should orgasm? Does she want to deal with this kinky pseudo sex just to avoid the real thing? Well, to some degree, some women do. But mostly, it is just a male rationalization of why he is not getting any sex. If, in addition, the man remains horny and is willing to do any kind of sex or lack of sex with her, then she is where she prefers to be. She has nothing to lose, and he is happy deluding himself thinking that she is controlling him. Of courses, when he becomes dissatisfied, the game is over. Who is really in control?

On the other hand, being in constant hog heaven on the short term is not that bad. One always hopes that the key holder will take our fantasy seriously enough to play along for a long time, and once in a while up the ante – so to speak. Any pleasure she allows on the side is a gift from her, any pain we suffer is a gift to her. We give up control in exchange for being taken care of. As long as she plays our game we are thankfully in it. Where is the harm?

Why Spill It?

2011-02-05T12:48:00.000-08:00

I have dealt with this issue of Cum Shots before, but there has been no resolution. A few comments may have been revealing, but they were not enough to satisfy my need for an answer.

Regardless of the outcome, it is a man spilling his load by using his own hand is self-masturbation. This is as opposed to almost any kind of copulation or manual or oral manipulation by a partner or partners. Why would any man want to masturbate when he has a partner in sex?

Think about the words and phrases in italics above. “Outcome” is obvious: fluid produced by orgasm. “Spilling his load” is the typical in-your-face production of the male ejaculate onto some surface that is to be documented that it is really happening as if it were something virtuous. “Self-masturbation” is also obvious. He can do it without a partner. So, why involve a partner. Having a partner why not participate in some mutual satisfaction and skip the always available but less fulfilling self-gratification?

For a long time I have been looking for a video that would attract my attention and at least give me a rise. Alas, the only thing out there is whipping, cock and ball torture, and gratuitous fuck and suck. All involve so called professionals, most of whom are as believable as puppets, and as attractive as stick figures. From time to time there is ad-libbed acting on a third grade level but using profanities that somehow don’t fit. Oh, there is different genre, such as B/D, C&B torture, femdom, cuckolding, etc., but it is hard to tell where some of these begin or end, worse yet, who cares?

Getting back to my peeve of the day, I ask, “Why would a man work himself into a throe of passion with a willing partner, withdraw all stimulation at a crucial moment, and spill his juices on someone’s skin? Is that some sort of weird self-gratification? Is that the ultimate thrill? Which one of the participants gets joy out of it? How?

I have had intercourse, and I can tell you with firm conviction: I definitely do not want to interrupt at the point of orgasm, for doing so would be what is called in some segment of strict femdom “ruined orgasm”. As long as ruining the orgasm is the goal, I can see the point. Otherwise I don’t. Going a bit further one could assume that after withdrawing the man can grasp the situation and complete it using his hand. Sure, that would work. But why do it? If masturbation was the goal, why go to the trouble of involving another human or having it recorded? See the picture that I purloined from some source that is not notable. The female in the foreground looks somewhat bemused but not happy or appreciative. I share her sentiment. Who is going to clean up the mess, and why would she be asked, if indeed she was, to provide the canvas for this idiocy?

The next picture is more pathetic and disturbing. I could hit the man in the face and tell him to never come back, which is expressing my thoughts mildly. I could be interpreting the scene wrong, nevertheless, it is somehow inappropriate. She appears as if she had been coerced to participate in this ignominy. I could be with this beautiful woman and give her love and pleasure, and never even ask her to do this. Damn, some men are really asking to be punished for this, and not in a nice way.

Brand of Ownership

2011-02-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

MW has been hinting of doing some branding of my anatomy. For those of you faint of heart I say, “Relax, it’s not like in the old West: Yanking a branding iron out of a fire and searing my skin while three robust cowhands hold me naked to the ground with my ass pointed at the stars.” This is much more civilized. For one thing, the cowhands would not be employed; neither of us are that much into multiplesomes, although I could be persuaded. MW knows how to make sure that I offer no resistance. Even though it would be between her and me, she needs no assistance other than perhaps one of her friends using the camera. The other thing is, the deed would be done in the confines of our home, and probably using propane-torch heated branding irons. As for the stars, well, it may be done outdoors … who knows?

Several years ago she had decided to mark my ass as her personal property. She then toyed with the ideas of tattooing and branding. She chose tattooing with a twist: she carved the initial of her first name into my lily-white skin with a sharp knife, and then rubbed ink into the scar to make it a tattoo. The combination worked. I had a period of healing after which her mark was there for all to see. Alas, as the years passed, the ink faded. The not-so-deep scar of the carving is now barely visible. Then about three years ago se re-carved the initial and left it just what it was: a thin scar to mark her ownership. But, as time went, and is still ticking, the scar diminishes. I guess it was not deep or wide enough.

She is now planning a proper branding using something hot. I am not sure that she will really do it. She tends to be squeamish about that much potential pain applied to me even though she knows I can take it. I rather wish that she would do it. Any attention from her is welcome. You will be the second to know when it does take place.

Panties: Do They Define the Power or the Lack of Power in a Relationship?

2011-02-02T09:38:00.000-08:00

Written by “The Great Dis-Illusonist”, AKA "Susans’s Pet".

I get confused while reading some of this material. For example, from a fine blog with well-written posts, skipping any reference to identification on purpose, I quote this:

“After really thinking about it, I decided that I would just reinforce our relationship and tell her what our plans were, and what I expected from her. I did that this morning as I was getting ready to head to the office. To set the tone, I laid out the bra and panty set I wanted her to wear today. When I do that, she gets the idea that I am in one of my more controlling and dominating moods.”

One would expect that this was written by a man who dominated his female subject to the point of dictating what underwear to sport. Nay, the words are written by a woman. When she says “her” she means her male sissy person. She says, “To set the tone, I laid out the bra and panty set I wanted her to wear today.”

Here is another excerpt from a comment to a blog, I will skip the identity to protect the confused:

“There is nothing like watching your smooth sissy in her first bra and pantie[sic] set. I loved watching my cock enter sissies[sic] pussy. I swear if I kept fucking her she was going to cum too.”

If you have not guessed it, this too, was written by a woman. She “loved watching her cock enter sissies pussy”. Just who has what kind of anatomy here?

OK, let’s back off and try to understand the terms. Apparently being “her” is demeaningly feminine, a role assigned to a male who is not worthy of being “him” or masculine, or to have any thoughts of being in charge of himself. He is a mere pseudo-female who is waiting to be told what underwear to put on. Keeping in mind that this is being said by a woman, one wonders what that woman is or wants to be. If her lesser male person is in a demeaning female role, then what is she? Is she a “male” because she is stronger and more dominant? But no, she is physiologically in possession of genuine female parts, so she can’t be male. Nevertheless, male traits are strength and dominance which she is trying to assume or demonstrate. So is she a strong male, or a weak female? Or is she a weak male or strong female?

Are we assuming here that being strong and in charge implies being a male? But that can’t be! She is female and strong and in charge already. And her submissive male, strong by reference to gender, is wearing panties and bras, therefore weak.

Can you see why I am confused by the conflicting descriptions of who is what and what roles or underwear they are expected to fill? I don’t have a problem with this particular blog or what is written therein. It is typical of much out there. People playing games lose track of logic and reason, and rely on flowery rhetoric to present their case whether real or imaginary. However, I have some questions.

Does wearing panties and bras make a person a “sissy”, or is it a coveted position by mere males trying to become powerful females or weak females?

Does a woman in charge not wear panties and bras, but wears jock straps and cheesy Jockey shorts just to be considered in charge?

Does being a “just a housewife” while also being male and doing housework make this person “just a weak female”? Should he wear panties and bras to fit the role else he is not being really submissive?

Does being a strong woman and dominant in a relationship make her masculine?

Does being a female dominant make her so man-like that her submissive male “house-husband” should dress like the traditional weak female and she stomp around in boots and leather?

None of these questions are expected to get logical answers. Even though they are based on what I have read in some of Female Led Relationships, there is no logic to support any of the underlying scenarios. Actually, I don't think that any of this stuff has to do with FLR, rather, it is just ordinary kink like you and I play from time to time.

I think what is going on is a lot of great role playing that ranges from occasional bedroom scenarios to full time dominance and submission. The rules are defined by the participants, change with the season and change with the shedding and acquisition of partners. They seldom apply to you and me, at least not on the long term. It is kind of like watching an erotic D/S video where the participants are only somewhat believable. One might say, “Yeah, I could do that for a week-end!” Regardless of the impracticality of the props, the setup, the costumes, the skill of the people involved, as long as we get a thrill out of some aspect of the situation, we can say that. We also admit that there is no way we would enter a long-term relationship under those conditions.

Since panties define the roles, we have no idea who really should wear panties and for what reason. "Being in the script" is not really authoritative, since any of us could be writing it just for fun, or to dupe the gullible connoisseur.
I am still waiting for a rational logical treatise on this. Fantasy: there is neither reason nor limit.

Those Were the Days ...

2010-11-28T15:26:00.000-08:00

My Patriotic Friend is going down a path that I know I will take. He has been my mentor and confidante, a few years ahead of me in most respects. A while ago he was sharing his thoughts with me over some fine wine. The occasion was a one-year remembrance of something he had valued and then lost. He said,

“We tend to forget the original thrill of it, that first-time experience when we thought it was a gift from the gods, and we didn’t deserve it.”

He paused for effect and a sip of wine, then continued,

“We went along exploring it, finding new ways to enjoy it for a while. Then over the repeated occurrence of this gift to us we at first began to expect it. Later we became accustomed to the joy of it so much that after a while it seemed ordinary. It was like our daily bread: we no longer thought of it as a gift from the gods, rather, as something due us. All was well.

“Then at some point we realized that this continual gift that we grew to expect was no longer forthcoming. It is as if the gods knew all along of us being ingrates, and decided to bluntly remind us.”

As usual I made a note of his statement knowing that some day I will remember it just so.

Life has not been easy, but in general, good for me. I have had many good things going and I am content. I did give thanks occasionally, but I was also cocky. I seldom gave an explicit thought that some of these good things would stop suddenly.

Then it happened. Two very much appreciated aspects of my life came to an end. One was taken from me, the other I chose to give up for a good reason. The first happened about two years ago, the second a few months back.

As I learned growing up in a hostile environment, “Once you leave, you can never go home.” You may revisit, but it won’t be the same. What you lose or give up can never be retrieved. Life goes on, but along different paths.

I know I am an ingrate when it comes to the appreciation of the good things in my life. I can cite several specific instances when I should have done better. Yet, I am unsure whether I would be better off if I had been explicitly grateful for those gifts from the gods. One thing is certain: it hurts to know that I could have shared or given more, and yet I did not, and now it is too late.

A pleasant but rather sad song by Mary Hopkins from the sixties has the following passage that describes this:

Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way…

That is the “before” part. Then after the realization of our loss,

… Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely person really me …

… Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same …

The really bad part of this is that when things are going well we don’t know or realize that this may be the last time the good thing happens. This may be the last week or last day of our grace. This may be the last gift from the gods. A few days go by without worry, for we are ingrates. Then doubt sets in. Then after a while the realization that it is over. If we could go back to that lest episode! If we could go back to that last day! Maybe we could have and would have done something different. Or at least enjoy it more knowing that it was the last time. But we did not know until later. And here we are.

The truth is, we are an instrument of our destiny. Occasionally we are carried along by its stream, but invariably we have a decision that will change and determine our future based on what we do or fail to do. As in the song, Careless Whisper, “… there's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find …“ What next?

Slave Versus Sex Slave

2010-08-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

Men claim to want to be slaves to women. I truly understand their need, and I am among them. I want to be a slave to a woman. The problem is when, after cleaning toilets, vacuuming floor, picking up kitty and doggie poop, we run out of kinky stuff. The woman to whom we wish to be a slave is sipping her beverage watching some mindless TV show ignores us and we are bored. We just spent a day on drudgery, and there is no hint or promise of sexual joy.

That is slavery.

Sex slavery is different. You are called upon your favorite kink to do or not do whatever you like. If you like chastity, you are prevented from orgasming. If you like sexuality or homosexuality, you are prevented from all that or forced to do it. You are put into a scenario that enhances your needs and either helps or prevents you from achieving them.

The question is, “Who is going to do that for you and why?” Is she or he doing it to satisfy your kinky sexual needs, or to satisfy his or her kinky sexual needs?

Few men as highly sexed as I would refuse to be a sex slave at least from time to time. After a day or so of getting over the result of masturbation we all are ready to serve a woman, or even a man, to any extent. The more kinky it is, the more we are ready. Then we orgasm, and the urge is reset. A never-ending cycle.

Hell, when I am horny I am willing to suck a dick. Then I get my things off, and dismiss it as some frigging homosexual fantasy, whatever. About the woman, I could still do it but not being fully compliant with the implications as in her being in estrus. So, when in the sex slave mode, I am willing to do almost anything. Well, maybe. I look at a woman and say, I could be her slave. But the thing is, being a slave is more demanding than my idea of being a sex slave when I am horny. I don’t really know what a slave would be unless I were to get into lawyesrism. I know damn well what being a sex slave is: to serve her sexually no matter the circumstances. But whoa! That is a wide open mine field to tread Yes, I am ready, but not after I have just orgasmed.

I hate to be so fickle. I would love to have MW hold me to my promise to do … you know, all that stuff. That is, until I orgasm. Then it is different.

Would somebody please take control of my brain and say, “Having just orgasmed has nothing to do with how you feel. This is what you will do, and you have nothing to say about it.” That is how I feel in general except after you-know-what.

Law Enforcement

2010-08-09T12:34:00.000-07:00

I have been challenged on my blog space about my sporting a gun in a civil scenario. There is a difference between being a victim and being a victor. There is a difference between the average denizen of the state, legal or illegal, and the rest of us.

If you have not experienced this, your time is coming: some criminal will try to do a bad thing to you, and you will not like it. This is the product of living in society. It goes way back to biblical times. When some scumbag wants your money, it’s nothing personal; you just happen to be a convenience to the scumbag.

So, “Who do you call?” as they said in “Ghost Busters.” The immediate problem is that we are not there on the scene to stop the bad guy. We have tried it, and it is not possible. The next best thing is for you to call 911. We respond, but it may take time. Usually it is too late to stop a bad situation, but we are there eventually to mop up the scene.

We, the police, are here to show presence, and to some extent deter crime. But we cannot prevent crime. Some people resent our presence, but that is their problem. The best we can do is to catch the perpetrator after the crime and turn him over to the courts for just disposition.

If you never do anything that would justify someone calling 911, then you should consider us the good guys, for we don’t go looking for schmucks to arrest even when they deserve incarceration. We serve legal warrants rightfully issued by judges. If you are an average citizen, and we don't catch you in a crive, you have nothing to fear from us. You should actually feel good seeing us and be around us. We serve and we protect you. On the other hand, if you are a criminal, we will get you, and we don’t care how you feel about us. This is not politically correct, but we really don’t give a shit. We will see you in handcuffs. Then you can deal with Bubba who wants to explore your nether regions during the lights-off hours. It comes with your chosen territory.

Homosexual Marriage

2010-08-07T18:38:00.000-07:00

Homosexuality in general, when not in my face, is OK with me .We all are to some degree homosexual, so I will not blame or ostracize anyone who is not "truly heterosexual" what the hell ever that may be.

I have, however, a problem with “gay pride” and when homosexuals try to make special laws to favor their sexual preferences. Let’s say, that I am a kleptomaniac, and I am proud of it. Should I have laws enacted to prefer me as such? I rest my friggin’ case. If you bring up the argument of "homosexuality is not a preference but ingrained", give me a damn break. I am highly sexual, and I admit that it came with my being from way back. But I don't go around flaunting it or forcing it on others because "I can't help it". I also don't ask the government to give me special dispensation to accommodate my proclevity to prefer my sexual preferences. Dammit, I control my own behavior whether it is sucking a cock or licking a pussy. I go with what is reasonable, and I don't need the state to support my preference. You do your thing, and I will do mine without intruding on your space!

My definition of marriage in the traditional sense is between a man and a woman, whether they are heterosexual or to any degree homosexual. The reason for this is a religious basis. I am not religious, but I respect the belief and dedication of any religious person as long as it is not destructive or restrictive of my own beliefs. For example, if this religious person wants to blow me up because I am not of his faith, I will blow him away without respect to his so-called religion.

Getting back to the marriage issue I think that it is a non-issue. The definition of marriage is as old as mankind. It goes back to Adam and Eve in whatever language or religion. The problem with this came up when the state got into the act. There was a good reason for that, but it was wrong from the conception. The good part is trying to define a lawful state with respect to shared property, shared responsibility for each other and children, and ultimately, inheritance. The thing that is wrong with this is the definition of marriage itself. Marriage is a religious assumption, demonstrated over the years by the sanctions of priests, and other religious leaders. It is a promise to take care of and to serve only each other under God, whatever that god may be. This at some point should have been separated from a state-approved and sanctioned contract, which I call a “civil union”.

A civil union can and should be allowed between and among two or more people or such. The legality can be defined by the friggin’ lawyers to withstand the court’s probes, and should have nothing to do with religious or personal promises that a real marriage represents. Under a civil union, a man should be able to marry a woman, a man, or any number of such, including animals or inanimate objects. I really don’t give a rat's ass about what some man or woman wants to do along these lines as long as they keep it out of my life. This would negate the debate and the issue over the constitutionality of homosexual marriage and the other stuff, and keep it out of the courts.

Well, people have their heads up their asses, so this is not going to happen the way I see it. Stupidity has no bounds. The judge who negated the ballot initiative Proposition 8 in California has his own agenda describing a marriage between a man and a woman as homophobic. Yes, he is self-admitted homosexual, but that is not why he should be booted. Any homosexual is as smart or intelligent as a heterosexual. This guy has an agenda and he uses his position to undo what others in the majority deem proper. That is why he should be booted.

What Comes Around Goes Around

2010-08-07T17:01:00.000-07:00

I find it funny and somewhat pathetic to read about someone’s self-described Female Led Relationship versus the vanilla version. The question is, "What is the difference?"

Let’s go back to what used to be called the vanilla relationship where a man is “henpecked”. Some poor schmuck would be controlled by his wife’s in-his-face insensitive behavior. She would humiliate him before friends, relatives, and strangers just because she was a friggin’ bitch and could get away with it and he did not have the balls to set her straight.

So now, henpecked is not only a misnomer but politically incorrect, even insulting to the woman who is doing the henpecking. Now she is in charge, and he is in her charge. Now she can be in-his-face and insensitive, and humiliate him to any extent in front of anyone. But this is good, because this is now a Female Led Relationship, and the rules are set: she is in charge, she can do anything, and he is to comply with whatever she decides. He is just a dolt who is not allowed to make a decision because she is the smart and intelligent one in the relationship.

Has anything changed other than the perception of the relationship?

Way Back ...

2010-08-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

I was in elementary school. I had already learned from my parents the order of importance: family, community, country. If family failed, there was nothing left. But if I could serve family, then the others took importance in the order shown.

I had a friend whose home I visited occasionally. His name was Deák Feri. His home was across town a long walk, but I did it for he was a fine fellow, and had interesting pedigree. His father was an enemy of the state, and his mother was a beautiful woman with ties to the old aristocracy. He was into engineering as I, and we had good times inventing things and playing with them. Then one day I learned that his father was discovered in the attic of an out building, and that his mother, oh the horrors, was supplying him with food and such. The father, of course, was arrested, and without a trial was executed. The mother was put into prison. Those were the times of our days.

It is many years and some continents away now. I have not kept touch with Deák Feri. At first it would have been dangerous to both of us. Later, well, maybe impossible given the oppressive government, which I damaged, and then left to its own devices to eventually fail.

I was fortunate to land in the United States of America and many years later obtain citizenship. Those of you who were borne here and managed to ignore the true history of the best country on this earth should do some studying. Read and study the constitution. That is the basis of this great land. If you ignore it, and many of you have, you will lose your freedom. We see it flittering away as allowances by the federal government. You should also study old history, not the politically correct crap now provided as such in schools.

I know what it is to be without freedom. It was before I came to the USA. It was a matter of my life, and I had to kill to keep it. I was fortunate to survive. The ones on the other side killed were not worth the air they breathed. I am not talking of ordinary street thugs. These were state hired thughs who would kill their mother on orders. When their day came they met their dues.

Total Control

2010-08-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

Now that I am alone for a week I have a lot of time to think. I have thoughts that transcends FLR. They even consider issues other than sex. Yes, I know that you know me as a horny person, but I have some feelings of wider coverage. My Patriotic Friend and I have discussions of ideas and concerns that affect our country and future. Here is a piece of wisdom from him.

An Essay By My Patriotic Friend

Not one man or woman, nor a select group of people can make long-term decisions on what is best for us as a nation. This is the problem with our government. The people involved may have our welfare in mind at first, although I doubt it. I think it is mostly self service, and to hell with the people who pay their extravagant salaries and lifetime retirement benefits.

Aside from their avaricious inclination and lifestyle they are not smart enough individually and collectively when compared to what can be achieved by our nation as a whole. The United States of America is the only nation that has clearly demonstrated what can be done by freedom. You may argue the virtues of “isms”, and provide anecdotal evidence to shore up your beliefs, but on the long run, capitalism within a free society is what has endured, whereas all other “isms” have failed so far. European countries are going bankrupt. Some are abandoning the social welfare schemes because they can no longer afford them. Yet our Dictator in Chief and Congress are hell-bent on mimicking the European failed policies to lay out a good job for themselves at our and our children’s expense.

Capitalism relies on individual ingenuity and willingness to pursue an idea until it pays dividends. It creates jobs for those who are without ideas. It creates jobs for those who are willing to work. It discourages those who want to live off the earnings of the achievers. Capitalism thrives on the energy provided by willing and able members of a free society. Every member benefits from this energy, even those who sponge off our earnings.

When there is a problem that transcends the society, self-serving, and even well meaning members of the government step in to solve it. What they end up doing is to manipulate a narrow aspect of the symptoms. On the long run, they simply add to the problem, and cause other problems.

Capitalism can solve problems if given a chance. The reason is that the collective mind is vastly larger than the mediocre minds limited by the size of the government, and the huge bureaucracies that they rely upon. Capitalism relies on individuals all over the society. There is a vast resource of ingenuity among the population. One or more can be brilliant. Many can surpass the limited intelligence of the governmental members. When our government begins to limit this societal cornucopia, our lives become saddled under impossible constraints.

Capitalism does not deal with pseudo science and pseudo economics such as carbon credit, cap and trade, or government forced health care. It encourages people to figure out what is best for them, and allow it to do so.

It used to be said, “Charity begins at home”. That has become a national issue lately. But charity is not the charter of our federal or even state government. If our elected representatives took a four-year vacation, for which we would pay, our country would do very well. At the end of the four years we could reflect upon the improvement of our lives, and decide that lack of action in Congress is more beneficial than their managing of our lives.

絕不要羞於承認自己不知道的事。......................................

2010-08-03T07:19:00.000-07:00

I have gone over this issue once, but had no resolution. Those of you who leave comments in a different language, they show up like the title of this post. I will not publish them, for they are simply cluttering the blog space. If you really want to leave a comment, please do so in English.

Home Alone

2010-08-02T16:28:00.000-07:00

I am free as far as messing with the little guy is concerned. I can do to him, with him, or he can do to me whatever our fertile imagination provides. Yet, it is not as good as it would be with MW.

MW is off on her annual week’s stay with her friends at a nearby resort. I drove her there and moved all their luggage and stuff into the units that they were to occupy. We had a nice dinner in the main unit, and, as usual, I spoke many words of double meanings and they were understood. They know that I am a horny bastard ready to be used. With wine and spirits I may have had an excuse for my wise-ass comments. I assumed that MW would punish me for them, but she let me get away with them for now. That is both good and bad. I stayed overnight, and left mid-morning the next day to go home to allow the lovely ladies enjoying a few days of vacation.

I am now at home alone. I can indulge in my right hand gratification as much as I want. If she were to ask about it later, I would tell her. If she did not, it will remain between me and the little guy. I miss her. Her absence reminds me of how much I love to be with her.

You Never Know When It Is Truly The Last Time ... Until Later

2010-07-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

I was young. I had a female friend much older than I. We did not exactly have sex, but did some heavy petting and then some. I very much appreciated her. She knew that I was not in her future. I also realized that I would develop other relationships with girls more my age. Still, the relationship sufficed under the circumstances.

“Will you see me next Sunday?” she asked.

“Nothing would keep me from you. I would love to do again what we did not quite do this time.”

“Why, you sarcastic horny little dick. Don’t expect much. Still, it is good to be with you.”

Then I became involved in a situation outside of our relationship. That situation was the cause of a complete change of my future. The planned Sunday tryst was impossible. Soon after that I left the country. I never did satisfy my commitment to her.

We may have a satisfying relationship. The normal is where one or both of us get what we want. Then we have a need to escalate, because normal becomes commonplace, no longer exciting. So we ratchet our needs and wants, and beg, plead, or press for more. Sometimes we get it, and all is well for a while. The sex we had some time back is now more exciting, it is on a higher plane. We coast with the joy and remembrance. We tend to skip over episodes because they are easy, with us at a whim. We don’t realize that the last great sex we had together could be truly the last.

Things happen that simply make it impossible to continue. Then days, weeks, and months later we remember how good it was, and that it was truly the last.

If only we could know, we could make it more memorable, somewhat like in the song, If You Go Away. But it is too late. We have had our last episode. Nothing will be like that again.

Once you miss the next episode, you miss it forever.

Cum Shots

2010-07-20T14:13:00.000-07:00

I have been pissing off people lately. It is an attitude that I seem to have from time to time, and this is the time. I am being brave. I am willing to walk out before you without my body armor and wait for you to take your best shot at me. I may duck, but I will be out there!

I have bitched about pornography before. If you get off on it, fine. I have gone through some, and, without a scientific measure, I conclude it to be total crap. Yes, I know, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The problem is, I keep looking, but I see no beauty.

Some of you will say, “Yeah, shithead, you watch porno like we all do, so quit bitching.” Ok, I don’t know the amount of time you spend on it, the frequency, the intensity, or the type of material, so it is difficult to compare. I just have some real problem with about a tad below 100 percent of the stuff that I have seen.

I absolutely do not want to see women mistreated by men regardless of the situation. Yet, about fifty percent has to do with violence against women.

I tolerate a woman mistreated by another woman in some circumstances, but I never get sexual satisfaction out of it.

The ordinary fuck and suck videos don’t do anything for me, which accounts for another forty percent or so. As much as I love to see the naked female form, hump and blow scenes leave me cold.

That leaves some really raunchy stuff I don’t want to mention.

The above items take care of about 99 percent of pornography. The remaining one percent has to do with fake female dominas mistreating fake male submissives against fake dungeon-like backdrops mostly having to do with cocks and balls in some kind of bondage.

Visualize a skinny anemic unattractive female with a sneering attitude whose every second or third word, if she can speak at all, is “fuck” or “fucking”. She wears the requisite idiotic platform shoes and hopes she does not fall off and break two ankles. She wears a rubber or plastic outfit. She wears “nurse” outfit, or “military” outfit or ”Mistress outfit” that are produced by some home-shop in Shang-Wien in China. She wields whips, paddles, quirts, and appears to be in charge of a stupid male already in bondage. It is not known why he would go along with it. She suspends him from impossible hooks and chains in impossible positions, and proceeds to impale his mouth with the largest dildo ever built. She rapes him with a dildo the size of an elephant dong, and orgasms as he does in the process.

Have I turned you on so far with my depiction of pornographic methods and paraphernalia? If not, then maybe we think alike.

Some idiots out there obviously assume that depicting ugly men and women in prurient or violent portrayals of sexually suggestive scenarios are potentially lucrative. Perhaps they are right, otherwise they would not continue doing it. Are you paying for this? Are you supporting it? Which part of this is erotic?

I would rather use my imagination and jerk off in my bathroom. I am not condemning one’s preference for things. You know, some folks like gas masks, rubber suits, enema apparata, ballet boots, whips, paddles, chains, hooks, and so on. Pleasure and pain are relative. Shape, size, age, and scenario are to be preferred for the moment. Male or female, or a mix of the best is appreciated based on one’s needs. Two’s threes, or groups can be enticing. To each his own. But, damn, there is nothing original and attractive out there! It’s just more of the same crap. The captions to depict the contents are written by morons, and in many cases using an English-XXX dictionary.

Personally, when it comes to flavor, texture, and scenario, I like freshly baked sourdough rye bread. If all I see is doughnuts, chocolate cakes, ice cream, I feel disappointed and avoid it.

Similarly with the professional dominatrix scenario, I like the earthy well-built and experienced females as opposed to the typical thin femme fatale with no curves or muscles. If one of these thin wannabes has the means and determination to really whip my ass (figuratively) I might give her a chance assuming that MW would allow it. As I always say, “It’s not what you have, but what you do with it.” Alas, most of these professional mistreatesses don’t know what the hell they are doing. If they did, they would not be in front of a cheap camera with an asshole behind it. The purveyors of the genre assume that I don’t exist. Am I a minority?

What I really would like to see is real people doing real things in an erotic set. Real conversation, real story, real reactions to real events. They could get erotic, sadistic, masochistic, or realistic to fit the scenario. I would be willing to skip violence except maybe in tightly controlled situations where they are just part of what eventually becomes the ultimate orgasm (I like S/M when it fits the scenario. I have been known for having my ass whipped as I reported on my blog).

And yes, “Aarghhh, I’m comin’….!” Not to be included.

Getting back to the cum shot idea in the title. This is blatant. I am a man, I have masturbated, I have been masturbated by my female partner. All that was pleasant to a certain extent depending on the circumstances. Then there are the “cum shots” of pornography.

Can anyone tell me why a man would masturbate in the presence of an attractive woman and spill his juice over her face or body? I am as horny and virile as any man, but if a woman is willing to share her body, attention, and love with me, and we have an agreement of mutual pleasure, the last thing I want to do is to spill my sperm on her face. The whole idea is fake, stupid and demeaning to the woman!

I have masturbated. I do it when all else fails. But if I am in the company of a willing female, I would feel like a moron to culminate my pleasure by jerking off over her body. Who the hell came up with this lame theme?

Even worse are the pornographic videos of fucking and sucking until the last moment when the stupid male schmuck withdraws from whatever orifice and spills his load on some usually expected female surface. Give me a fucking break! Are there any of you out there who would do that? Male or female?

What would a woman get out of that? I know how a man would feel: an aborted or ruined orgasm! Unless the woman is enforcing that, and I would go with that, the idea is stupid. The people filming these videos are idiots, and the men getting off are just jerkoffs. Maybe they never learned to pleasure a woman with her satisfaction in mind. Maybe they learned sex watching these stylized pieces of crap and never had real sex. Maybe they don’t know love and satisfaction where it counts. They obviously have no respect for women. Similarly, the women have no respect for themselves or the men. What pathetic existence!

The Way We Perceive Ideas

2010-07-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

Prologue

Her Majesty's Plaything posted an interesting view of playing at home or doing the second best thing without straying: the Internet. The blog is apparently well read, for there were many comments. I did not leave a comment, for being late, and much of what I would have said had been said. I like his blog. In many ways we are alike. I don’t have the experience of dealing with professional dominas, but that may be just something that I tragically missed in my naïve younger days. As for the rest, he is a good writer and a person I could have as a friend. I want to present my view that in many ways coincides with his. I have posted on the subject of evolution with respect to ideas, ideals, and expectations. Because the Internet is rich in ideas, experiences, feelings, and pornography, I want to say a few things that represent mine.

Naïveté

I started my blog in 2007 when my Mistress Wife (MW) and I fully realized the significance of a Female Led Relationship. I could not read enough to satisfy my thirst for femdom, FLR, serving women, and the various aspects that are now fully explored issues: chastity, CBT, cuckoldry, etc. As you can tell by the above words, it was mostly sexual.

I was naïve. Most of us begin with that characteristic, for I doubt that any of us are borne with full knowledge of the subject. Everything that I read was fun, exciting, fascinating, and sexual. See my list of favorite books on this blog to get an idea.

After a while I began to be more discerning in my evaluation of what I read, but kept increasing my list of blogs that I revisited. I was thrilled. I did not have enough time to explore all that, but I tried to be efficient at it. This brought me to the next stage of being: discerning.

Discerning

I began to identify signs of falsehoods that enabled me to separate fact from fiction and consequently dismiss the crap. Some blogs were mostly factual, but had posts that were either clearly or partly fictional. I began to resent such. The reason was based on the premise of my own blog: truth, unless explicitly stated otherwise.

I have no problem with fiction and fantasy. I write short stories, and books that are fantasy. But within my blog I remain truthful. I expect the same unless the author states otherwise.

I also began to do what I referred to back then as pontification. My assumption back then was that I was smart, experienced in the subjects I discussed, therefore, I had the right to pontificate. Well, maybe.

During these two periods of development I wrote about how MW and I did things, some of which I would not want to share with friends and relatives on account of subsequently being embarrassed. Nothing shameful there, just that some issues need to remain unsaid or unpublished among friends and family.

Jaded

My interests ranged all over the FLR realm, and I found occasional gems. As time went on I kept reading about things that I had read before although posted by different people. I was interested in actively debunking fakery and applauding real dedication to FLR. The various fringes of FLR still interested me, but that is where I usually found silly claims and attempts at presenting obvious fantasy as reality. As I said, I like fantasy. Just don’t try to sell it as reality.

Disillusioned

I still love the idea of FLR. I want to spend my life serving a deserving woman, such as MW. However, I have a real problem with many of the issues, such as female supremacy, slavery, total control, cuckoldry, extreme chastity, etc. I am not dismissing any of this at all. They all are fascinating games that two or more people can play, and I would love to play some or all from time to time.

My problem is when some readers or writers comment on the issues as if we all should be that way and sound like they have it all figured out. I have written about all of these, and probably will again. The thing is, there is no one rule that will fit more than just some of us and only occasionally at best. It is fun to read it, to write it, and especially to experience it. But it is just a game. I have never met a willing or unwilling slave, for instance. He or she may have played at it, but on the long run, they don’t exist.

The Way It Is

One can make a lifestyle real for a short time assuming willing partners. And then things change. Interests diverge, economic and health issues show up, obligations kick in, and then what was a neat game is no longer viable. You expect some of this. If you are smart you plan for this, and handle the changes one by one and will hang in there being wiser.

If you are naïve or stupid, you don’t know what hit you, and will begin to repeat an attempt to recreate the failed relationship. Good luck! You will die trying.

If you have an otherwise stable relationship, then you get over these hurdles and either improve your aim or admit failure and try something else. In the words of my Patriotic Friend, “’Nothing’ is perfect. Whereas, everything else is not.” Since we are dealing with everything else, we see imperfection all around. In my mind, that is a challenge to improve whatever I am doing.

In Closing

I assume that a person with more intelligence than mine could have transcended the stages that I had to travel to come to my conclusions, and zero in on it at the start. My excuse could be that I was exposed to malnutrition and lead (both in paint and bullets) as a child, so the experience had handicapped me.

However, I am not using an excuse. I despise excuses. I either do or I fail to do. If I fail, then I take the consequences. The only allowed excuse is being dead. By the latest measure, I am still alive, so I have no excuse. However, I will admit to being less intelligent and less smart than some people I have known and admired. That is an admission of my relative standing. It is being realistic.

Then there are people who are not smart enough to realize that they are not smart. Pity.

Pathetic

2010-07-15T18:22:00.000-07:00

I enjoy reading Mistress Kathy's Blog. She is benign, and does some things to her husband that turn me on sexually, although I am not too sure that she is real: it could be one man’s fantasy. I also get a kick out of some of the discussions as a result of her postings. The latest that got me off on this kink was Money Of His Own. You will have to read it to understand my reaction to some of the comments.

Come on, guys, this is really pathetic. Aren’t you adults? Do adults need some other adult to check your exact behavior from minute to minute? So what if you buy an extra cheese burger? Is that a friggin’ sin?

I don’t understand the mentality of needing to be controlled to this extent other than the sexual part. Maybe you never grew up to be an adult, and you need the extra care. If that is the case, you should not be allowed to marry, form an adult relationship, have children, have a reasonable job, or drive a car.

This thing about not having financial means, or having a tiny allowance to buy your weekly chewing gum is ridiculous. Either you are a responsible adult, or you are a moron. I have a distant nephew who is a moron. He works at a WalMart retrieving shopping carts to earn a living with some help. He is proud of it, and I don’t think that sex is part of his enjoyment of his accomplishments. Whereas the rest of you who need care, well, I am sure that much of that is in your sexual fantasy. If you are lucky, some woman provides that by giving you one dollar a week to get your dental floss or such. As for practicality or reality of the situation, it is ridiculous. Your mother is no longer in charge of you, so get over it! If you are that stupid to deal with real things, what the hell is some assumed intelligent woman doing with you? You should be in an asylum. This whole thing is a damn fantasy.

Playing sexual games including money and other such real things is fun, and many of us do that. Just don’t tell us that it is real. Real soon you or your partner gets tired of it, and then it is over. So all the crap you wrote no longer applies. Any of us who belived in you are left with disappointment. Shame on you.

Chenoweth

2010-07-12T17:48:00.000-07:00

I was introduced to a person in my professional space whose last name was Chenoweth. I found the name unusual, not having heard or seen it before. The name sounds somewhat feminine, some name that I would give to a female child who would grow to be a magnificent female. Alas, this person was male, stocky, and entirely not my type when it came to sexual preference. He was also a very competent engineer in the computer science realm. I assumed that he was of Irish heritage, so I was on his side from the beginning. Let me explain this.

Some years prior while I was a budding engineer of electrical and computer science I held a part time job driving a commuter bus for extra earnings. OK, maybe I was not very smart, but it was some extra income that I could use to support my growing family. On one occasion I drove a group of citizens to some theatrical play in a nearby city. While they were viewing the performance I did some studying as I was still between degrees of BS and MS. By the way, “BS” stands for “Bachelor of Science”, not the other thing. During the ongoing performance while I sat in the driver’s seat of my bus a couple of the denizens of the group entered. Apparently they did not care for the fare offered by the theatre, so they decided to spend the last hour in my company. I nodded as they took seats and returned to my textbook on Fluid Dynamics.

The woman was slightly older than I, the man somewhat younger. He made no impression on me. But the woman, well, let’s say, I was more than impressed. I was newly immersed in the English language with an American tutelage, so listening to the woman talking was a new experience. Although I was in love with my wife, I could have gone with this woman anywhere. I correctly guessed her strong accent to be Irish and I loved it. We talked and enjoyed the wait for the rest of the troupe about an hour thence.

Later I read a book by L. Ron Hubbard, “Battlefield Earth”. It was somewhat two-dimensional; nevertheless, I enjoyed it very much. Although set in an American future scenario, by far the best part was the Scottish folk who became a major part of events downstream.

So much for the background, and now back to my erstwhile colleague, Mr. Chenoweth. I love everything Irish, Scottish, and British. I miss the opportunity to have immigrated to England when I ended up in the United States of America instead. I would now be speaking with a British accent otherwise. Now, of course, I know that I was fortunate due to circumstances of my background and have an American accent with a European flavor. Still, I love the various accents the people have from these parts of the world. In all, Scotts are my favorite people. After my encounter with this engineer of exotic name I did some research, and found that the name may be of Cornish origin. Well, Cornish is not exactly common outside of the UK, so most of us would assume Celtic. You know, somewhat like when you hear a Hungarian name and you assume it is Polish: close enough, since they are all alike anyway.

That was the only time I encountered the name Chenoweth. Are there any of you out there who know someone by that name? Let's hear from you.

I Am With Stupid

2010-07-11T16:56:00.000-07:00

I recently ran across a bad cliché that began many years ago. I recall a picture on the Internet that had started a multi-million dollar industry with every entrepreneur copying it in some fashion. It depicted a woman walking toward the photographer. She wore a tee-shirt somewhat like this I am with stupid. To her left and slightly behind her walked a man carrying purchases apparently for her. The arrow was pointing to him, and their position in the situation was perfect as far as that went.

On first glance I was amused at the apparent humor. Then I quickly became irritated. Now, many years and millions of dollars cashing in on the “I am with stupid” phrase by people (not me) not connected to the original idea I feel the need to say this. I would never advertise being with a stupid person. If he or she were indeed stupid, I would try to minimize the effect and try to pass as a normal person. The reason is, I would not want to embarrass the stupid person or the on-lookers by pointing out this fact. On the other hand, if he or she were not really stupid, then I would be doing a cruel thing by calling this person stupid. In either case, it is not something that a reasonable person would do. I know that the basis of jokes and humor is cruelty, but this is not one where I would go.

The premise of this humorous depiction is flawed. It is impossible to tell which person, the woman or the man is stupid. Interestingly, I have never seen a depiction of the stupid arrow pointing to a woman. I guess that would not be politically corrrect, although it would be just as stupid as the arrow pointing to a man. If the man is stupid, at least he has an excuse to be exploited by a supposedly smart female. She can flaunt her smartness by claiming her man’s stupidity. In any weak scenario we can try to look smart when standing next to a stupid person. That works about as well as in political campaigns where one accuses the opponent of bad deeds, and by comparison, the mudslinger looks good. We all know how well that works.

In the original picture, if the woman is smart, then why is she dealing with stupid? Is it because she needs someone stupid next to her so that she can look relatively smart? Is it because she is stupid and can’t figure out the implications of this lame depiction? As I said, the premise is flawed.

If there are any of you out there who received one of these tee shirts or posters as a gift you might consider burning them.

Growing Old

2010-07-08T14:47:00.000-07:00

I spent some time with My Patriotic Friend on the Fourth of July, our American Independence Day, our most important national holiday. He appeared less jovial, and more introspective than usual. We tried to make light conversation, but it seemed shallow. While I did not want to intrude on his mood, I was curious and tried to be emphatic. After sharing some wine he volunteered as if he had sensed my need to comfort him, or at least to understand his grief. The following are his words as accurate as I remember.

“I read a poem when I was a boy. It was an allegorical reference to a man growing old. Although the man was still virile, he knew the signs of age as he reflected on his life: the things he cherished, the things he had done, the things he was still doing, the things he had not done. Perhaps you remember it … 'September's End'“

He named the poem, and indeed I did remember! Alas, I cannot show it here, for it was not in English. I could try to translate, but the poem would be ruined in the process. He continued.

“Those of you who are still young but may be feeling your youth slipping away know what I mean. You notice hairs growing on body parts that you did not know existed. You used to work a full day of hard labor, and maybe you still can, but the next day you are on your ass for you would rather not get up and groan with pain. Your former daily workout of an hour or more is now a small part of that. Your skin is not as tight and supple as it used to be. Your favorite clothes no longer fit. Your shape seems to have shifted from your and shoulders and chest to your waist and ass. You will have to buy longer belts.

“You now have to trim your nose hair regularly else it be mistaken for a mustache. Your eyebrows tend to be thicker than what’s left on top of your head.

“You still look at young women of your favored type, but try to do it furtively in case they are offended by it. You no longer think that you would have a chance with them before they shriek, 'You dirty old geezer, get away from me!'

“Your partner still puts up with you but much of what the two of you used to do is narrowing to … well, you fill in the options.

“You still don’t take crap from most men, but at some point you think, ‘Maybe I should just grin and bear it.’

“I have had these thoughts for a long time. Now, however, they are becoming real. I still need to take care of those who depend on me. At the same time I am thinking that some day I will not be here, so they must learn to fend for themselves. I watched my father go through this and saw his concern, and in a small way, I felt his pain then, but I was cocky and full of myself. Yet, I knew that some day I would have to deal with what he faced then. I am not quite there yet, but I now have a taste of my future, and I am not enjoying it.

“There are fewer opportunities to be manly, to be beautiful, to be brave. I have done some good things. I have done some exciting things. I have done dangerous, fascinating, sexual, sensual, loving things. But there are many things that I have not done and I know I never will. Pity.”

Damn! I am younger than he, but I am heading toward the same place. There are many things that I still want to do before I get there. Will I?

We drank more wine and talked politics and current events. His comments and logic were impeccable as ever. I should spend more time with him. There is much he can teach me. He is a national treasure, a mentor, and a true friend.

Who Is In Charge?

2010-07-03T15:07:00.000-07:00

I was reading the comments on “God Told Me”, June 27, 2010 at "whatevershesays" The comments have to do with a wife’s obedience to her husband and the so-called 50-50 relationships. I have no more problems with a wife totally obeying her husband than I have with a husband totally obeying his wife. In either case something is way out of whack, or the one or both of them are not quite sane.

Back in the dark ages including the fifties men used to think that they owned the world. Well, some did, or at least part of it, others were not that well endowed by power or riches. But all along, women ruled. They did not do so blatantly except in some cases. Generally they got their way by manipulating men. Even the stereotypical wife of the fifties TV crud did. You just had to look past the crisp aprons and high-heeled shoes that they wore while vacuuming the living room.

Now it is out in the open. Women still manipulate, but the men love it. If it is blatant, they love it even more. This is what FLR is about. However, the thing that has not changed is that not all women want leadership in a relationship. Some want input into decisions over the family, some just want to be told. Men never had a chance to give up leadership because of the socially accepted norms: man was in charge, if not, there was something wrong with him. Regardless of how much of an idiot he was, he was expected to be the head of the household.

Today we still have idiots of all genders. If, by some unfortunate turn of events they get to be in charge, they will muck up the relationship. Being an idiot or not wanting to be in charge is not gender specific. That is where marriages fail, and people end up with litters from various liaisons draining their energy and wasting attention rather than raising their children produced by one steady, responsible marriage.

I know I am pissing off a lot of you, for most marriages today are second and third. That is not my fault. So, be sensitive about it if you like. At least up to the fifties there was such idea as commitment: you made a decision, and you honored it, rather than go sniffing after another pussy once the one you got did not put out.

Then there is this politically correct (PC) idea of the so-called 50-50 marriages, which is the only PC alternative to FLR. I have some experience in civilian, military, and law enforcement management. In all cases a reasonably functioning organization had one person in charge. With the idea of 50-50, people would have been milling around without taking or accepting responsibility. In a 50-50 relationship nobody is in charge. When stuff happens, one does one thing, while the other does another, potentially mucking up the situation. People either must make rules, or follow them to a large extent. This is no different in a marriage.

In my marriage, I rely on my ability to honor my commitments. My only wife and I have children, and need not deal with ex wives and husbands or litters from former relationships. We don’t agree on everything, but we know that life is full of compromises, since nothing is perfect. I would love to be her total subject, one who belongs to her. I would love to be her love slave. I would love to serve her in all ways. Alas, that is no more than a sex fantasy. She makes decisions based on our mutual understanding of the facts, not because of what she has between her thighs. I could be in charge if I needed to be, but I defer to her. She is more intuitive than I am, so in most cases she makes the right decision about our family. As for finances, home repairs, dealing with the Sheriff, she gives me the opportunity to decide. Unless I am really unable to decide, I take care of them. She knows that our mutual benefit is my priority. She knows that she can override any decision I am about to make. She also knows where she is out of her element, and then I have to decide. This is not a 50-50 relationship. It is a rational and logical FLR. As for the bedroom scene, well, I would do anything to satisfy her. The way we have it is not quite satisfying for me. However, that does not mean that the FLR is over. As I said, nothing is perfect, but we work at it.

Up Only When I Don't Need It

2010-07-01T11:41:00.000-07:00

MW and I have not been having sex lately having to do with her long procrastination over her planned surgery and then subsequent surgery and recovery. Not that I find that a reasonable excuse to not having fun on the side. We could have all kinds of fun together in other ways.

The little guy turns on me during the night and the early morning hours. He becomes the big guy and entices me to do things. Damn! I don’t want to get up during the night and go to the bathroom to satisfy him. He is an unreasonably demanding ass!

I could have fun all by myself, as most of you have done so. The problem is, there is no challenge. Most of the times that I decide, “I will pleasure myself, and be done with it, and then attend to whatever MW needs or wants,” is only partly satisfied. Yes, I can attend to whatever MW needs or wants later, but I have a hard time getting it up without provocation.

The problem is psychological, not physiological. Since I spend most of the night with a raging hard on, I know that the equipment works. Trying to get it up while fantasizing about this and that ends up fizzling out. It still works once in a while, but not as regularly as it used to do. Of course, with MW’s help it would be more workable.

Forget pornography! It sickens me. I have absolutely no use for the shots of fuck-fuck-fuck, suck-suck-suck, and the usual kinks on the side. It’s not that I would not participate if the occasion arose, just that, watching insidious and blatant fornication in any form leaves me cold. The purveyors of pornography have taken the essence of the experience out of life, and presented it as the only thing. Meanwhile, life goes on without the essence. Reminds me of the cartoon movie, “The Dark Crystal” in which the supernatural entities were split between two opposed characters: the evil, rotten, deserving to be destroyed skeksies, and the benign but boring and useless mystics. Apart they died of needing their other half. At the end, they re-formed, and together, they lived.

Pornography is the skeksies of our reality. The goodness is missing. Yet, without the skeksies’s input the mystics are also doomed. Love, warmth, and goody feelings will fix some problems, but will not move the world for you. You need to mesh your evil and good sides to get anything done.

MW and I have become mystics, and without our evil counterparts we are doomed. We need to get some evil things going.

Shopping With MW

2010-06-14T09:38:00.000-07:00

I think that her hormones have kicked in again lately. Not that anything significant in the orgasmic sense has happened, but then, there are other things appreciated. I may have mentioned that she installed the CB2000. On me, that is! Yesterday she expressed an interest in acquiring some sexy underwear. No, not for me. I am best when I am in my uniform, which is minimal so to speak. You know, nothing on my skin but a ring or two or maybe the CB…

She had me drive her to one of the fine stores in the area. She remembered my yearning to see her in brilliant colors of enhancement aside from her lovely freckles and red hair. See Brilliant Colors. You know, underwear where the emphasis is not really on “under” but “outer”. After all, who would know the color of underwear but the one who put it on. Whereas, if it is really “outerwear” as we sometimes practice, well, then it does more than just contain some of the beautiful parts of a woman. It enhances one’s appreciation.

I stopped in front of the store’s door to allow MW exit the vehicle in style, after which I parked our car and walked back to the store. I had the understanding that she would wait for me inside the air conditioned space and then she would go look at merchandise and I would look at the female shoppers. I am still naïve when it comes to her. I took about a quarter hour to find her. But I had a good time looking at the female customers during my quest. The older I get the more latitude I have for the enjoyment of the female charm: there is more to appreciate. I eventually found my dear MW and we went on to find colorful enhancement to her beauty. I carried her choices like any other appreciative male would with my arms full and eyes still wandering over the local fauna. Then she wanted shoes.

I know that some guys are weird when it comes to women and shoes. I never could figure out the reason. On the other hand, (or maybe the other foot) I am a total slave when it comes to woman’s feet and shoes.

Did I say that I like women’s feet? In case I did not, I will say it now. She began looking at some totally non-functional but damned sexy sandals. After a while I sat down to wait for her to settle on her choices. Meanwhile I was on my knees on and off as she tried several of her potential purchases. I made some comments that I knew other shoppers nearby overheard. I like to play with people’s minds. In the famous words of Bill Murray in one of the Ghost Busters movies he said, “… Egan, you’re scaring the straights …” I was not exactly kissing her feet, but close to it. There is something about women, feet, and shoes …

My little guy was in a bad way inside his cage all this time, but at least I did not embarrass us by a blatant erection on account of the erection was contained in a plastic cage and not too obvious. We picked up a few more items on the way out. I carried a full armful of beautiful female enhancements and then paid at the end. I mean, with money, not the other stuff.

Hours later, in the night, we shared skin as we often do. It means full body contact. It is not blatant sex as one might imagine (not that I would refuse). It is appreciation of tactile and olfactory gifts by her to me. Oh yes, her taste also gets to be part of the joy. We each dozed off from time to time, and then came back to enjoy the goods. Nobody orgasmed, but it was good.

Yeah! Men Are Stupid, Whereas Women Are Smart

2010-06-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

Showing how stupid some men are is fodder for comediennes, comics, and jokes. One of my favorite cartoon strips is Andy Capp. Here is an example:

He is not really stupid. He is just without a clue when it comes to tact. It is obvious that his wife knows it.

However, I have a problem with the entire scenario within and way outside of the cartoon strip and comedy in general. Take, for example, Flo, Andy Capp’s better half. By comparison she is smarter, more charming, more forgiving, and generally a better human than this sorry excuse for wasted skin. My question is, “Why is she married to such a piece of worthlessness?” Even more to the point, “Why did she marry him in the first place?”

If men are so shallow and stupid, should not an intelligent and supreme woman know that and avoid long-term relationship with them? After all, if she is so much smarter, should not she see past his sexual endowment and not try to burden her life for years with it? Sheesh, a dildoe would be much less expensive in emotion, commitment, and monetary ways. So what was it that grabbed her attention long enough to go with the stupid schmuck? Does anyone have an answer?

Could it be that women are not really smarter than men?

Pain

2010-06-13T07:08:00.000-07:00

I have been skipping sleep lately. You know, stuff happens, and you don’t do justice to your basic needs.

No, I don’t mean sex.

Well, yes, there is that too. Without sex the world would come to an unappreciated end. At least, unappreciated by me. But then, I am highly sexed. That is not to say that I am a predator. It is very much the other way: “Please use me for your pleasure.” Yes, am a slut when the situation warrants it. Last night was such.

MW has been hinting about sex. For me, anything with sex is better than nothing, which is what we have had for some time. She had a CB2000 installed on me. I know, it is not the ultimate sex toy, and yet, it turns me on. It has been two days. She has the key, and I would not dream of breaking this toy without her permission. Goddess, I would love to be at her mercy. Alas, it is a toy. A sexy toy, but no more than that.

Last night we stayed up later than we usually do. It could have beeen her pheromones. I don’t know. She gave me pain. I know, the way I convey this is blasé and blatant. But that’s just the way it was. I know that I am a pain slut. I love MW to mistreat my precious parts. Do I need to go into details? My counterparts in maledom are out there. You know who you are, you know when you want your … ah … parts mistreated “just so”. You have been there, and want to re-visit about once an hour unless you have passed out from lack of sleep.

Getting back to the subject … Oh Goddess! She gave me pain. You know, the good pain. Not like a headache, not like a broken bone. The good stuff. My only wish was that she would increase the intensity and prolong the duration. But then, we must not succumb to pleasure, for it would be the end of life. Pleasure must be meted at a reasonable rate and mixed with boredom and drudgery. I know that I am a pleasure junkie when it comes to MW. In general, I would rather give it than receive it. I know it’s perverse, but that’s the way I am. I could live and die pleasuring her.

Still, I love receiving pleasure by MW. It is her precious gift to me. And then, there are her pheromones. They grab me by the ... you know.

It Is Just A thigh

2010-06-11T18:18:00.000-07:00

I stand on her right side. She sits before her computer doing whatever she does, I don’t want to intrude. I just look down. Her right thigh is horizontal partly exposed from near pubis to her knee. If a man is ever tempted by female charms this would be it. And definitely I am tempted. God, she is beautiful There is nothing as charming as a female thigh. Oh well, there might be, but for now, I stand and admire. She is a gift from the Goddesses. She is MW. And I belong to her. She promised that I will get a closer look later. I will wait.

An Excerpt ...

2010-06-10T05:30:00.000-07:00

Garth woke up on Carmelita’s couch. His mouth tasted like shit, all the smokes and that cheap wine added up. He needed a shower, but his head was just too damned big. He drifted off again until Carmelita kicked him in the leg, “Time to go, lover boy!”

Garth gathered his wits to the extent possible, and sat up. Oh shit! Ellie will be a bitch. He did not have the money to pay Carmelita. Fuck it. She will take an IOU like usual. “Sweetheart, I owe you.”

“No shit? You’re damn right you owe me. And if you don’t come up with some cash soon, I’ll cut off your nuts!”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” He reached for her tits, but stopped as she kicked him in the balls

“You know about that title to your RV? I have it. You were stupid enough to sign the transfer, so it’s as good as mine. Now get your carcass out of here, and come back with money soon, or I’ll have the sheriff out there helping me to take ownership of your RV.”

Carmelita was a good fuck.. She was a great fuck. He could live with all that great stuff she strutted. The pisser was, she never was into blowjobs. She had that piss-ant boyfriend of sorts who would do anything she wanted, and once or twice she told the boy to suck him off. Garth went along with it basically because he got his rocks off his favorite way, and also, all he had to pay was a couple of six-packs, which was cheaper than what Carmelita usually charged.

See my book "Jason's Deliverance" for the rest of it.

She Kissed Me

2010-06-09T21:39:00.000-07:00

We have kissed before, obviously. Before marriage we dated, and kissing was a major part of our ardor. At least, on my part. She was delectable, a veritable sweetheart of any man’s fantasy. But that was many years ago. Since then, we kissed lightly and seriously many times, so we both know what kissing is about.

Tonight, however, kissing took a serious turn. I have never been kissed like this. It is as if she suddenly owned my soul. Her lips took over mine, and commanded respect by their power. Yes, she was also working on my cock at the same time. My (her) cock has a Prince Albert ring through it. In addition, I wear a silver ring that she bought for me The Rings Yes, the cock manipulation had an effect on me. But that was miniscule compared to what she did with her lips to my lips. There is no way to convey the feeling to another human. You would just have to have experienced it. Her lips had a mind of their own that took over mine and reduced them to submission in the most flagrant ways. It would have been enough, but she, being her lovely Self, added her tongue to the exercise. I am not a religious person, but at that point I could have assumed MW worship to any extent. Her tongue did not exactly rape my mouth. It was more like using it to its lovely advantage. At that point there was not anything that I would not have done for her. God, she is great!

It was a kiss to die for! Maybe some day I will show a photo of her lips. It would not be enough to express my feelings, but it might be enough to show their wonderful potential.

Bull [shit]

2010-06-07T17:09:00.000-07:00

I am reading a few blogs where the man writes about the woman in his relationship dealing with extracurricular sex. Yes, I am talking about the man being pussy-whipped and the woman taking any sex outside the relationship as her due.

Fine.

In some cases that is what the man wants regardless of what the woman wants: she must have sex outside, or else his fantasy is not fulfilled.

In other cases they already have a shitty relationship, and it is only a matter of time before it breaks without redemption. So she looks outside, he gets a hard on, then gets resentful at the end. Sometimes it works ... for a while at least. Maybe.

Then there is the pathetic fantasy where he has a small dick that would not satisfy a gnat, and she must have one of those big ones we read about, you know, some foot-long schlong attached to a piece of human meat with no brain, but that’s all right.

Yeah, we all have our fantasies. I don’t see the preoccupation with huge dicks, though. For one thing, it might be painful to the person on whom it is used. Forget anal sex, and maybe even forget vaginal sex. Oral sex might be fine as long as the male with the schlong pulls his punch. For another, well, just like having a big head, a big foot, or a big belly: it is not necessarily esthetically pleasing. But some men think that a bull with a huge cock is god’s answer to a woman’s need.

My main objection to all this is using the word bull. As if a woman were to say, “I’m going to the stockyard and hire a 3000 pound mindless animal to rip my innards so that I’ll be totally satisfied for once after dealing with this unsatisfying pipsqueak with a tiny cock.”

Damn, don’t these [assumed] women realize that a bull has a pea-size brain running a twenty-inch penis? Yes, I know, it is an analogy, but even the analogy fails when it comes to, say, tact, cleanliness, kindness, consideration, safe sex, let alone intelligent conversation. Then again, maybe these women need only to be reamed and then they are done?

Actually, I don’t believe any of this. I think that all of this is in the fertile mind of horny men who write pretending to be in a relationship of that sort, or pretending to be women.

Does anybody out there have actual information on this? Does anybody think that a bull is a good term for a sex mate in extracurricular affairs?

Fakery

2010-06-04T17:52:00.000-07:00

I have been reading some blogs having to do with Female Led Relationship (FLR) over three years. There were some that attracted my attention in chastity, denial, cuckoldry, and mild S/M, but most lost my interest on the long run. Simple FLR is what I desired. It still has my attention. The problem is, I am losing interest even reading about that because of all the fake blogs. I keep touch with those that I know to be real.

I have debunked several blogs over the short three years that I pursued this interest. It felt good. But lately I began to feel different. I think that a man has fantasies that he cannot fulfill; he needs an outlet that is relatively harmless. Posting a blog is a way. If he is good enough writer to fool the readers, then what is the harm? The readers like it, and maybe learn from it, or go off and create their own fantasy blogs. As a result of my epiphany I resolved to stop debunking fake blogs as a rule. I would still debunk one upon a challenge, but I no longer feel compelled to make FLR Blogdom pure. Yes, I know, it took me a long time to become benign in this respect.

Hell, there is little reality left out there. If you are real, please let us know and how we can tell that you are not fake.

I ask, “Why ask?”

2010-05-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

Say, we are in a situation where expertise in deep sea drilling is crucial, and we are hiring. You are dammed right I would ask the applicant about his or her ability to handle the job such as the oil spill in the US gulf coast. As for his or her preference to say, the use of the male member or a dildo, well, with due disrespect to the thought police, it is irrelevant. Aside from the analogy, whether or not you use a condom while having sex has little to do with how you cap a spewing oil well. Of course, some people will think otherwise.

Don't ask, don't tell.

In the military I would prefer to have fighting men and women whose first thought about a situation is to kill the enemy as opposed to being nice and trying to make friends. The thing about sexual preference is never an issue here. I have no position for or against this shit of controversy about gays in the military. The reason is, “It does not matter!” Among our duly elected idiots, elected by idiots, in Congress, this thing comes up repeatedly, and they can’t get rid of it on account of having their heads up somebody's ass. Ok, they don't ask, and don't tell about it, and I just hope that while that is going in somebody will evacuate and then flush. Sometimes I think that we would all be better without a Congress. Yes, I know, that is the cry of an anarchist although I am not one. Still, considering the hundreds of thousands of congressional laws that are unconstitutional, destructive, and useless that we could do without, nobody would know the difference if we scrapped all and just stayed with the United States Constitution. The people who created this document did not have their heads up somebody's ass. We should trust their wisdom, and not mess with something that most of us are not intelligent enough even to read. When was the last time you read and understood the Constitution?

In a way, we should reboot our government, and get rid of the detritus accumulated because of misperceptions of what is right or wrong. I would begin with the current president-so-to-speak, With him gone, almost any idiot would do better on the job. Of course, the Senate and the House of Representatives would be next. One of my dogs would do as well as any current member of the Congress. At least, he would not be thinking of reelection, or “bringing home the bacon.” Damn, I am pissed!

The Ultimate Of Creation

2010-05-25T09:54:00.000-07:00

I am not a fatalist.

I am not one who thinks that women are superior.

I am not one who thinks that men are inferior.

I am not promoting creationism versus evolution.

Yet, I feel that the female gender has the key to ultimate survival of the human, whatever the product would be at that point. My conclusion is biological.

Let’s face it, men inseminate, and then go away while women carry the subsequent burden to procreate. I get inversely claustrophobic thinking about having a parasite invade me for nine months and then punish me terribly to be done with me upon exit. And then for the next twenty years punish me more for my succumbing to the charm of the cock. I could learn to hate cocks.

In a weird pseudo-science-fiction we think of men as unnecessary and dying for lack of use and need. The reason is, women have all that they need to survive as species. The horny thing of insemination by a male could be arranged by some other means. As for the female’s yearning for a male’s cock, well it is somewhat like today’s shunning of homosexuality. The explicit need can be overcome by the use of artificial means. If it is not, there would be the female sex police to punish any woman who thinks of the real male member. You know, very much like today’s Sharia in the extreme as many women have already figured that out: “You will have your clitoris whacked off if you think of a male sporting a cock that is unencumbered with painfully restricting hardware, unless it is your husband, who can and will do anything to you.”

Don’t take me wrong. I value my position in life in relationship and in society. I am man, I am magnificent, I am to be feared and respected. Yes, I get old and frail, and then die. But I have made my positive contribution. There are some women who have appreciated knowing me, and would love to have me fill in for their dildoe from time to time. Well, maybe not all that, but still, I have done much good in life, and I want to be paid for it! About being superfluous forget that. Any self-respecting woman would love to have my cock to use as she pleases. Note that I did not say, “to fuck her with”, but just to use. I wish. Of course, there are some women who are not really self respecting, or have no respect for anyone. They go out of their way to demean and destroy themselves and anyone who has any use for men. It is a shame. Their viral thinking may take seed and germinate to produce virulent destruction of the sane members of the species.

On the long run, we don’t know how this will turn out. If I had to guess, sane females will survive. Males may end up kept as toys, but otherwise sterile and unnecessary. I will not be there to see it.

Breakfast In Bed

2010-05-21T18:04:00.000-07:00

I may be running out of ideas with which I can titillate your prurient mind. I know this is not a controversial issue. Breakfast in bed appears to be highly coveted by some. I make this comment based on what I have read, not what I have experienced. Typically in an FLR, the man would serve his object of love with breakfast in bed. The effort would be appreciated, even more, expected!

MW and I are different. Actually, we are more than different. We are odd. She, and I associate breakfast in bed with being bedridden. After all, if we are well enough to get out of bed, it is much more comfortable, more hygienic, more expedient to sit at a table, or even on the floor, to eat a meal. In bed you have to be concerned with not moving much to avoid spilling liquids from a cup or glass staged on a tray, which in turn is balanced on an unstable mushy platform. Then someone must come along and clean the mess anyway, for you can’t avoid crumbs and drips no matter how carefully you eat.

The other thing is, sitting in bed while eating off a tray is just damned uncomfortable. You are limited almost as if you were in bondage. Maybe that is the attraction to some. As much as we both appreciate some aspects of bondage, this is not it.

This is not to say that we don’t have snacks, coffee, and such, in bed. We do often, and it is enjoyable, but limited in scope. We find it great to sit in bed watching a movie while eating ice cream, drinking coffee, or munching on some fruit. Even an occasional slice of cake with tea is great, in spite of the crumbs that I would have to sweep off the sheet afterward.

As long as you are not too ill to eat at a table, I would like to know what you get out of eating a meal in bed. Is it some kind of rare treat? Is it something that satisfies a craving for service? Is it just decadence that your servant supports for you? Am I missing some pleasure here?

What Is It With Strap-ons?

2010-05-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

You can see them prominently on web sites that sell sex toys. You can read about them on blogs, forums, short stories, and books. They must have a value, or else people would not spend their money on them. I wonder, however, what the value is.

I maintain a few dozen blog addresses within the FLR genre that I visit from time to time. A strap-on device has come up in many. I have yet to do some research on how many blogs out of 100, how often, and whether a male or female brings it up. If any of you out there want to do that, or have done it, please let me know. In standard raunchy low-grade pornography a strap-on is essential. Jokes and cartoons deal with it as if it were standard issue to any adult relationship. Even my wife and I have one, although I don’t remember how or when we acquired it.

In view of my observation, I wonder who really uses it, and for what purpose. Sure, I know, it is supposed to simulate a male appendage. I can’t really go by the porno clips, because, with rare exceptions, they are only simulations of what could happen between two consenting or semi-consenting adults.

I can see two women using it on each other when no male member is available or desired. But most often in the FLR blogs it is the man who is obsessed with it and its potential usage regardless the circumstances, methods, or objectives. It is he who wants to be dominated by the wielder of this toy to simulate how a man would otherwise dominate another man or a woman. I can see the symbolic significance as a means of submission. He either does not desire another man to penetrate him such, or does not have a convenient man to do it for him. Next best, of course, is to have a woman strap it on, and then do it to him. I must be fair here. He may never want a real man to do that to him, all he wants is to submit to the woman. As a sign of conquest, she complies with his wishes.

I am not making light of this complex issue. In view of my not having intimate knowledge of the experience, I may not have a right to even mention it. I do it because I find it interesting. Male readers who are into the practice please do not think that I am being judgmental or making fun of you. I am merely curious.

I mentioned penetration without being specific. A woman has a definite advantage in offering three orifices to penetration, whereas a man has at most two. Worse even, the man’s offerings are stilted, unless the conqueror is turned on by the available options: the anus is not as pristine and attractive as the vagina. As for the mouth, well, read on.

Male to male oral penetration makes sense. I suppose it can be as thrilling as male to female oral penetration depending on the circumstances, and when we are talking real members, not simulated ones. However, when a woman dons a strap-on and forces her man to suck it, several thoughts occur to me, none explaining the situation adequately. These plastic or rubber devices have various shapes and sizes, but few look realistic. In addition, they exude an odor that is reminiscent of chemicals, not sex. I assume that the texture and the suppleness may come close to the real thing as long as the man is blindfolded. I just don’t see how he can overcome the smell or taste unless the dildo has been masked in some potent female juice prior to the oral attempt.

The other half of the questionable situation is this: “Why would a woman want to have her man suck a dildo?” Is she doing it because she gets some sexual or power exchange thrill out of it, or is it because her man indicated that it turns him on?

Then we come to anal penetration using a strap-on device. I suppose it could happen between a pair of homosexual men, one of whom can’t get it up, so he relies on a reasonable facsimile. In general, it would be a woman wearing the dildo, and penetrating a man. In this scenario we may disregard the look, smell, or flavor of the device, since the male anus is incapable of discerning any of that. Down there, it is the size that is perceived as the primary descriptor of the prosthetic member. I suppose it is a rare case when the woman is thrilled by this, and she is doing it against her man’s wishes, regardless of what cheap pornography or erotic novels say. So I ask, “What does a woman get out of this act?” It is unlikely to be sexually thrilling in most cases. Sure, her brain may be her greatest sex organ, but I doubt that many women will have their brains stimulated enough to orgasm in this manner, usually because of the loose and distant connection between the device and the brain.

There is one other scenario. I have read about this in supposed real cases. That is when the woman forces the man to put a hollow strap-on device over his penis, and then she uses him as an animated dildo. He is unable to get enough stimulation to orgasm even if she allowed him to achieve one. Yet she can orgasm as many times as she is capable, assuming the dildo feels like the real thing. This assumption may be wrong, because the artificial device does not have the feeling to feed back to the man, and it could irritate her most sensitive parts if staying with it long. Whereas, with the real thing, irritation is seldom an issue. The other thing is, my understanding of female orgasm is that she is less likely to achieve one through penetration by a device, as opposed to manual or oral stimulation with or without penetration by a device or the real thing.

Just to show that I am not entirely a virgin, here is what I have experienced. While having plain vanilla sex, my wife has used her finger to play with and once or twice penetrate me down there just as I was achieving a glorious orgasm. It was not necessary, but it helped, and I liked it. Once before, she tried to use a small dildo as she had me leaning on the edge of the bed face down. She missed her target, and pressed hard anyway. I tried everything to pull away, so she finally stopped. Later she asked me how it was. “You were trying to create another hole down there,” I explained. We have not tried it since then. I would not object if we tried again, but I would have to be convinced that we are doing it because she wants it, not because she thinks that I want it.

I have raised several issues above. I would like to hear from anyone with experience who can answer my questions, or can shed light on the details of the issues. What I especially would like to know, is, whether a woman gets anything out of penetrating a man with a strap-on device, and if so, what it is?

Conflicting Goals

2010-05-11T11:23:00.000-07:00

The Greatness of Some Women

I am sure that all of us who love, respect, and admire women could name some who are or were clearly superior to most of us: Eleanor Roosevelt, Margaret Thatcher, Mother Teresa, Indira Gandhi, Golda Meir, the list is long. Even within our acquaintances we could name many. In my work I greatly admired some women who were superior to me.

I know I have been trying to debunk the Female Supremacy Religion by citing examples where it is clearly not valid. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and hear something I did not say. It is time I did at least lip service to show that some women are superior. I will say that emphatically here and now: “Some women are clearly superior to other women, and to some men.” I am not equivocating, neither am I trying to be vague or facetious. Of course, this does not dispute my previous analyses and anecdotal examples. I also want to be sure that we have our terms right.

First, define supremacy, which is based on supreme: Greatest or maximal in degree. To demonstrate how not to use the term we could get silly and say, “Mankind is supreme.” Uncle Joe while rocking on the porch would spit out the wheat stalk that he had been chewing, and note, “Bubba at the bait shop ain’t supreme. He dum as a brick.”

Next, define superior: Of higher rank, quality, or importance. This is the meaning that I like to assign to persons, as opposed to subgroups such as gender, race, etc.

Is She Fake or Stupid?

I have comments that I withheld lately when I read the blog at Yes, I'm a submissive man. I used to comment, but with the advent of some insane readers’ tirades I felt like I was wandering in the dark of a small yard where several large dogs have done food processing: from time to time I stepped in it. For this reason I don’t comment on that blog any more. However, I can write about it here. The blogger on his May 8, 2010 posting dredged the unsavory depths of Internet to come up with an advertisement on Craigslist by a supposed female. I will not quote the entire advertisement, except the parts that grabbed my attention for its conflicting statement of purpose:

“… Attractive, slender, naturally dominant 44 y.o. woman seeks genuine slave. I'm a vivacious, fun person to be with -- well educated, cultured, elegant [but she is not humble]. Love arts, theater, dance, trying new things, travel, enjoying life. I am looking for a true, naturally submissive gentleman who has a powerful craving to serve a powerfully dominant woman 24/7. I am a female supremacist. You should know what that entails. I enjoy feminization, spanking, paddling, chastity, and humiliation. I will rule you…”

There is a lot more. The item that drew my attention is that she emphasizes being a female supremacist and that she enjoys feminization. Ok so far. However, she wants an inferior male for her slave whom she would try to turn into a pseudo female. Would not it be more simple to get a female slave, and skip the ill-fated attemp? At least she would be starting with another supreme being in this transformation. Now, if she is really supreme on account of having a vagina, then some other person without that crucial organ is inferior. Indeed, she wants a slave, and by definition a slave is inferior to the owner. Alas, a male slave, no matter how feminized, will never become as superior as she is on account of having the wrong organ down there.

Maybe, if she goes far enough with the feminization, he will become a she, and therefore superior. But, according to her advertisement, she did not want a suprerior female for a slave. She wanted a male whom she can turn into a female who is naturally superior, but still her slave. She then goes on to say,

“…You will be my obedient wife, completely monogamous and devoted….

“…You should have financial security and freedom to fulfill the role I require. Physically Fit. Energetic. Smart. Witty. Amusing.”

Does anyone see where this is going? Sounds to me as if she is trying to find something good, and then destroy it.

I have some ideas of what this is about. My first guess is that this is, a man’s fantasy. He is masquerading as a dominant female and tries to have fun at the expense of some schmucks who will believe him.

The next possibility is that she is indeed a female who is trying to cash in on the gullible male whom she will ensnare with the grandiose presentation of her self-bestowed supremeness. If the man is less intelligent than she is, he will go with it, and pay dearly. Based on her mentioning “financial security” twice, this is likely.

A third possibility is that she is as stupid as any man who would take her up on her offer, and they will do each other harm, but there will be no intelligent life lost.

I am not excluding the possibility that she is intelligent, even superior to many, and that she really wants a male slave. I also grant the possibility that a male would or could be happy serving her until his money runs out. Alas, I think that is a very small chance. Her requirements and goals are contradictory, therefore, she is either fake or stupid.

You vulnerable men out there, you don’t want to serve a fake or a stupid person. At best it would be a waste of your time. But it would likely be worse.

Some Women Are Not That Supreme

2010-05-05T16:40:00.000-07:00

Repeat after me, “Female supremacy is not the same as women in charge!”

Every once in a while I read a comment or a blog posting by some starry-eyed schmuck who is all ready for becoming the subject of female supremacy. To him any female is superior, and any male is inferior.

Even in my fantasy, which is quite capable, I can’t imagine living with that. Somehow I cannot be so chauvinistic.

I am sure, that all of you have seen examples of women who exhibited less than superior attitude, capability, demeanor, intelligence, etc. Of course, the above-mentioned starry-eyed schmucks tend to overlook that and stay within their limited minds thinking, “When women take over, all will be well.”

In law enforcement I have been exposed to situations that most of the civilians could not and would not touch with a ten-foot pole. After all, they call us to take care of the emergency situation. Trust me, I have not seen a clear demonstration of female superiority over all these years except in very few individual cases.

I also worked as a professional in the civilian sector for years, and dealt with coworkers, bosses, customers, and CEOs of both genders. They were well educated, and capable. However, being female did not come with God’s endowment of superiority in that venue either. I encountered assholes of both genders in about the same proportion as their respective population in the work force.

A more recent experience I had was when I took my pound-puppy to the veterinarian for some tests and inoculations that were due. He is a sixty-pound bundle of joy who will lick my face at any opportunity, and would share my bed if I let him. He is also fierce with intruders and those who have not been introduced to him by me or my wife. When at the vet, I held him on a leash with a choke chain, which is the only semi-humane confinement that works with him due to the huge neck that he has and the force he can exert. In the waiting room, I had him at the end of his leash as he lounged on the floor. A woman came in and sat on one of the chairs about four feet from my dog. She had a small mutt in her lap. The mutt had a hyperactive attitude, and began to bark at my dog right away. My dog stood and studied the pair without getting closer. He showed some teeth, but I think he was just smiling, for there was no menacing growl accompanying.

The woman snarled, “Take care of your damned dog, he is bothering us!”

I assessed the situation, and reeled in my pup by about a foot, giving the woman five feet of space between us. The woman’s little dog continued to whine and bark irritating the staff, the humans, and the feline and canine patients. I figured that she would have enough after a while, and step outside to wait her turn with the vet. Not so. She continued, “Hold your damned dog. I’ve had about enough of him, dammit!” She went on making similar but increasingly more abrasive comments including profanity.

I gave her a meaningful look, but did nothing otherwise. My dog sat down and mostly ignored the situation. My turn came at the counter with the receptionist, so I stood, and interrupted the woman's bitching, “I heard you the first time,” with a voice that I use effectively as officer presence in law enforcement. I was hoping that she would realize how irritating she has been behaving and would stop. That really set her off, and she resumed with increased profanity, with her stupid little mutt supporting her attitude at high volume. One of the staff went to her and tried to talk her into going into one of the examination rooms. The woman was almost out of control, yelling, “So, now you’re putting me in timeout?” but she went with the staff after all. When the door closed, the half dozen people all looked relived and somewhat amused.

This long short story demonstrates that a person is not superior because of some magic that her chromosomes perform at conception. A person is superior only by what she or he does under some circumstances that the rest of us would be unable or unwilling to do.

If you think otherwise, I hope that you will not become disillusioned when you encounter a person like the one I just described, and you are the recipient of her ill-mannered stupidity. Then again, maybe you will orgasm at the verbal abuse she gives you. Of course, that does not make her superior; rather, it makes you inferior.

Thoughts On Being Owned By A Woman …

2010-05-02T16:26:00.000-07:00

The subject is obviously fascinating to many men, and I suppose, to some women who are on the submissive lesbian side. I was reading an older post whose writer brought up the subject at Things I Think Thursday :

“For me, having a woman declaring ownership of me is one of the most exciting aspects of femdom. It thrills me for her to think of me as an object she owns to use whenever and wherever the hell she wants. Even in my countless vanilla relationships, when the woman sternly told me, “I don’t share. You belong to me.” I would instantly get a hard on. I’m surprised the femdom ritual of verbally declaring her ownership is not a larger part of the femdom discussion.”

I happen to like everything this man writes for the reason that I have many of the same feelings and desires. What I find odd, however, is that some men fully expect to find a woman who will own them in such way. It is a great fantasy. I have even written a book that deals with that. It is a common wish in real Female Led Relationships, and most common in fake blogs whose writers purport to be a woman’s slave or property.

The problem with the idea is too big to resolve simply by the woman saying, “I now own you.” The idea is understandable. The extent of it is difficult to define. The reality of it is entirely impractical.

Understanding the idea is easy, you can look up the meaning of words and phrases in legitimate reference material (I don’t mean sex forums and blogs). Trouble begins when one tries to define the ownership in the particular circumstance of this couple. She must go to some detail in defining the rules of ownership, and the rules of her owned object. It does not take long before the whole attempt is mired in contradictory, redundant, and ill-defined terminology and silly rules too difficult to remember by either party. Most of the rules would have to do with the man’s or woman’s sexual fantasy, for the reality of the rest of their everyday lives cannot be binding by these rules.

Take for instance an ideal scenario in which a man and a woman enter this relationship. They are young but experienced, married or committed to the relationship; neither has children, family obligations, major loans, etc. The owner/object relationship can kick in overnight, and could be some fun for a while. However, there will be clouds over the horizon soon. Who is earning the living for the both of them? Who is paying the rent? Who is paying the bills? Who has a stake in the household? Who is planning for investment for his or her later years? Who is paying the taxes? If the woman is completely in charge, she has a huge job to do. Does she want to give explicit directions to her object about everything trivial? Does she want to monitor his behavior and punish him if he deviates from the complex rules? When is she going to relax and just use her object as described in this fantasy? Yet, this is the ideal scenario, not some lesser version.

What if they are not in the ideal scenario?

What if there are children from various litters between them? What if one of them becomes ill or falls to an accidental injury? What if the provider loses his or her job? What if her object realizes that he is being screwed but not in a good way? If the owner dies, does the object become destitute?

Reality will soon smack her object in the lips, and he will want to change things. Then again, the owner (she) may tire of the constant responsibility that only she has, after all, her object is not allowed to do anything other than what she orders.

The ridiculousness of the scenario should be obvious by now. Being owned by a woman is a wonderfully satisfying game as long as they both are willing to play it. However, it is not going to be 24/7 for very long. Both parties will hit the road with their butts as they fall off the fast moving conveyance of this sexually charged fantasy. Unless the two of them remain eternally young, healthy, carefree, unattached, and willing to play the game, at some point the game will be over. That is when family, civic, and community responsibility will surface. Lawyers, realtors, employers, and bill and tax collectors will begin to interfere with the game. At some point thoughts of (gasp!) age, retirement, insurance, medical needs will become important. The ownership/object relationship cannot provide that. What it can provide is an occasional game that serves to release tension of everyday life from time to time. Meanwhile somebody needs to be in charge, but both will have real responsibilities not as owner/object but as man/woman who share a life. Without that, even the game will not last.

What The Hell Is That?

2010-05-01T05:40:00.000-07:00

I have been receiving comments that are undecipherable, consisting of unprintable characters. For example, "我喜歡........................................ ". It could be that my prophylactic software on my computer has an issue with it. The problem is, as long as I don't know what the hell this is, I will not let it pass. It could be that I am dismissing benign comments because of the unknown nature.

Does anyone have a clue to its nature?

Tiresius Knows

2010-04-29T17:37:00.000-07:00

If any of you recognize this moniker, you are old, like I am. Tiresius Knows was a column in Nugget, a magazine to which I subscribed. The writer was a male predecessor of the transgender generation. Transvestite does not describe him. He was a woman wannabe without the modern tools. He dated as we did, but had preferences that we generally did not. You know, “Boys will be girls.” The above is a shot from Nugget. Click on it to read the text.

By the way, I have a few years’ magazines with full color to sell, if you are interested.

I read his column because I felt that he needed someone out here who cared. Aside from that, I was interested in how the other side felt. Sure, there were respondents to his column, but most were needy as in, “please, can you help me with this problem?” The respondents were similar to his ilk: trans-sexual wannabies, cross-dressers, transvestites, etc. Some were hairy and ugly as far as a woman were to be appreciated. The “then politically correct vocabulary” was brutal. Tiresius Knows accepted all questions with equanimity. He answered from his vast knowledge and experience with compassion. Still, on the long run, the magazine, which hosted his column, canned him. At some point, he was no longer there.

It is strange that I cared for all this. I enjoyed the magazine for it had stories and photos of prurient interest not too weird, yet provocative. He was a steady support of the males who did not quite measure up as males, rather, wanted the female aspects in their lives. There were no such things as shemales or sex change procedures at that time. Males could be males, or dress and pretend to be females. As for females wanting to be males, well, forget it.

I read his columns with interest. Your reading this might think that I was one of those girly boys who wanted to know the detail in how to hide my cock, shave without a 5-oclock shadow, and look less than ridiculous in makeup as I try to pick up a stud. No, I never had the yearning. Aside from that, I would have looked like a transvestite with a really bad attitude and a beard.

It is now some decades later. I wonder how Tiresius Knows fared. He did sound like a likeable and caring person. It is too bad that the magazine wasted his contribution. But, that is evolution. We adapt or we become extinct. He and his ilk are now extinct. With modern medicine, politically correct approach, and plenty of money, one can become male, female, and then male again, at a whim.

I am not making light of those who have this yearning to change gender. I genuinely feel for them. I corresponded with one whose chosen name was Brittany Lynn Roche. He, and then later, she, made a very poignant point in her life as she chose the hard way of transition. It came late in her life, and I doubt that she could really cash in on the results. In any case, she gave it much effort and angst and succeeded. She deserves the rewards as dubious as they may be. My sympathy to those who did not quite make it, and my salute to those who did!

The Ultimate Fantasy

2010-04-21T08:57:00.000-07:00

I have a very capable imagination. It has been instrumental in creating very real things that were used by me, my family, my community, and customers in general. Creativity is a realized form of fantasy. When it is useful, such as in art, craft, engineering, science, and yes, in theory, it can pay tremendous dividends.

My imagination has also steered me toward fantasy in other useful ways. I am a writer among other things, and without my applied imagination I would have to resort to writing reports on known things, which may not be coveted by many.

Fantasy is what I call a manifestation of applied imagination. Fantasy has other values. One can live and practice scenarios that may become familiar enough to be useful in everyday life. See, for example, the book Psycho Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz. It can help in your job, in your relationships, or a yet to meet situation. These are often realistic fantasies dealing with what you are likely to encounter.

Then there are fantasies that are just for fun. All of you have used them, most often in a sexual scenario prior to or during sex whether self-induced or shared. They are great to enhance, even enable, your achievement of your goal. They are harmless as long as you keep them to yourself. Once you share them with someone, you are getting out of your safety zone and undesired things can happen.

I recently ran across a blog by Sarah who writes The Male Chastity Blog. Besides being a good writer, she has a clear-thinking way of presenting her material. There are many comments on her postings, most are by people of better education and clearer intellect than what one sees on blogs and forums dealing with male chastity and orgasm denial. If you were interested in the subject, you would enjoy reading this blog. The connection to her blog and this posting has to do with her dilemma: she is considering the idea of permanent orgasm denial applied to her husband. I believe that she is leaning toward not doing it, but she has the option to apply it any time.

She deals very well with the terms and meanings with respect to chastity and orgasm denial. She understands the implications as they apply to herself and her husband. She knows fantasy from reality, and the value of each even when they overlap.

I have used the term “ultimate fantasy” in my writing a few times, usually in fiction. I have never experienced it, although I have imagined doing so in the safety of my well-buttoned-down mind. My characters, on the other hand, have experienced it for real. I have also read novels of erotic fiction where the characters experience it willingly or by force. They are harmless, if not actually carried out.

In the case of Sarah she would feel powerful imposing this permanent orgasm denial. Alas, according to her, it would be irreversible: once her decision is made, there is no backing out of it. She knows that enforcing this would deprive her of some pleasures that she is now taking. I agree: she would miss some specific pleasures that are now provided by her husband at the cost of demonstrating her power. However, a more important issue is how her husband would adapt to the new edict. In his fantasy, which he is living already, he has an opportunity to be awarded an orgasm of his own. Although his main joy is experiencing her orgasm over and over again, he still has something in addition to look forward to. Not so if he knows that he will never be allowed orgasm again. It may be living his ultimate fantasy while she tells him that he has had his last orgasm, and from here on it is only hers that he will feel. It may even work for a while to fuel his enhanced fantasy. At the same time he will begin to feel the hopelessness of experiencing what he had, albeit seldom, before. It would change his life. It would increase his frustration. Their relationship would eventually suffer, unless neither one truly believed the final decree to be binding.

The only way that decree could be truly final is by a physical or surgical alteration of his anatomy that would preclude orgasm. In many novels of prurient nature this sort of thing is standard fodder. A man sacrifices his parts, and undergoes penectomy, castration, and or other mutilation either willingly or through force. Once done, the ultimate fantasy has been experienced, there is no return. Whatever follows is going to be different from before. Strangely, this sort of sacrifice happens in real life. If you dig a bit on the Internet, you run into a lot of grisly do-it-yourself surgery home-style alterations, methods, tools, and supplies to support it. I have done such research to support my writing. What I have not researched is how these individuals fare after their ultimate sacrifice. I have never read any real scenario that was legitimately documented. My advice, “Don’t try this at home, it’s a one-way trip.”

As for the members of cheap forums where they claim to have experienced this sort of ultimate fantasy, well, they are harmlessly staying in their fantasies with their genitals intact. You can spot these fakes as soon as they begin to describe how their partners forced them to undergo chastity or the ultimate sacrifice by whatever means: physical force, blackmail, enchantment, entrapment, etc. Their parts may be encased in a self-applied device that keeps them chaste until the next time they decide to masturbate while conjuring up the familiar event. Then the cycle repeats. Then there are those who pretend to be a dominant female who, also, forced her man into chastity and permanent orgasm denial, etc. Fun to read about it as long is it does not sound like it was written by a first-grader. Even so, it becomes blase. As Sarah said, "The fact is the whole notion of enforced male chastity is pure fantasy."

It's Not Where You Go, But How You Get There ...

2010-04-19T15:40:00.000-07:00

Vacations

When our children were small we used to make annual trips to a place about 800 miles from home. We spent some weeks planning the trip, then several days collecting all the items that we would need on the road, and once we arrive for a week’s camping in the wilderness. The entire effort was tiring, expensive, but fun. We had a goal, a target, and we looked forward to being there for a few days.

I, being in charge of all hard labor, having a reliable vehicle, insuring that all camping equipment would be functional, making sure that our home would be watched, had my own role and responsibility. MW was more into smaller details, such as the planned menu and food items, children’s clothes, first aid, etc. The children on the other hand, were into the mode of “can we go now, please?”

The day arrived when we packed and left home before dawn. In a few minutes everyone except me was asleep as I drove toward our destination. Just as well, for all I would hear on the way was complaints, “are we there yet?” MW did not complain, but she did sleep a lot to the monotonous drone of the engine and the tires on the road. At the end of the first day we usually stayed overnight at some campground before continuing to our destination the next day.

Once we arrived, MW and I set up camp. The children ran wild as expected. Life was good for the moment. We relaxed some, and we worked to keep the little buggers fed, washed, and bandaged as they got into scrapes and cuts. All was going as planned. After our stay we packed again and headed home, essentially reversing the upward trip. The children couldn’t wait to get home to play their games and watch their TV shows.

In all of this I continually had a nagging concern, that of our wasting moments. It was always a symptom of looking forward to things to come, and yet not appreciating what we were experiencing from moment to moment. I don’t know whether this feeling comes with age or wisdom. Children certainly don’t exhibit it. I enjoyed the planning, the sorting of our goods, the packing, and the departure. I looked forward to the very tiring but fascinating drive. I anticipated the known landmarks with fervor. Even the minor annoyances, such as blown tires, changing a diaper, and pulling into a gas station on fumes were part of a great adventure. My feeling was, to paraphrase my favorite saying, “It’s not were you go, but how you get there!” Once you are there, the challenge seems to be diminished or gone. You live with all the thrills of you vacation spot, and it becomes regular, commonplace, expected.

Being in FLR

The whole FLR thing is much like my described vacations of many years ago. It took some years to get from vanilla marriage to this point. The road to get here was rocky with many ups and downs and confusing side roads that led nowhere. All along I may have expected utopia consisting of full-time service to my wife. Now that I am there, I feel guilty for a couple of reasons.

The most compelling reason is that in my haste and anticipation I missed the pleasure and joy of our learning together and rushing in support of this goal. Sure, I remember some, and I wrote about it to preserve some of our fondest memories. What I did not realize over the last four years is that the way to get here was more fun, more precious, and more valuable than what I think I have now.

The lesser reason why I feel some guilt is being in the maintenance mode. I am not bored with it; just that, I miss the challenge and partial rewards that came with the trip.

Losing Interest

2010-04-06T16:58:00.000-07:00

I began this blog with some enthusiasm in 2007 to chronicle my Female Led Relationship (FLR). It has been fun. However, as I explained in Evolution, things change.

Back a while I expressed my feeling that I needed more than just to write about FLR, chastity, denial, D/S, and other kink. I explained my position in My Interest in Blogging About FLR is Waning.

As I evolve I am beginning to lose interest in reading and writing about this subject. For one, there are already many blogs that do it justice, and two, there are many others that do it injustice. Given that, there is little that I can add. I am not giving up on FLR itself, just that I am getting bored with reading and writing about it as a saga. I am still very interested in personally experiencing it. I am also involved in critiquing it, writing essays, and analyzing FLRs. As for recording my day-to-day experiences, I cannot really compete with some blatant blogs of sexually explicit details, and I don’t have the interest to do so.

As to where I go from here, it remains to be seen. I like to write. I have written many short stories, and one of the books, see Jason's Deliverance. I have material for others, and I feel the need to work on them. I may check in from time to time. I will continue to read some of my favorite blogs for now. You know who you are based on the comments I have left. I may post some significant event and take a different course. As I have said, it is evolution.

What Do You Mean By "Sex"?

2010-03-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

I like to sort things so that I understand them. It also helps me to explain or convey ideas to others. I will try to explain sex, as in “doing it”, rather than a noun.

Visual:

Viewing material that is conducive to subsequent sexual acts. Somewhat like foreplay, either shared or solo.

Aural

Same as Visual, except a different set of senses come into consideration; also a desired style of monolog or dialog may be coveted.

Tactual

Running one’s hand, tongue, or other protuberance over the body parts of one’s partner. This is wide-open to interpretation.

Oral

Facial contact with the parts of the partner. Lips, tongue, teeth, mouth, and genitals, may be in use in any circumstance from either partner.

Impact

Application of tools that cause pain, resulting in sounds at the moment of impact and also as a result of the above.

Silent intrusion

This covers a wide range. It could be bondage, insertions, confinement, and application of tools, deprivation or application of senses-related issues, and others I don’t wish to cover but you are welcome to do so.

Blatant sexual intercourse

I am sure that you know all about this.

Other

I will skip over these for the nonce. Feel free to add your preferences to your response.

My opinion of sex, as described above, is “Bring it on!” I can do solo, which is not very satisfying, or I can do duo, which is excellent as long as my partner subscribes to open-minded sex. Yes, there is also more than duo situation, and I could accommodate that willingly. Sure, there may be a limit, but I have never reached it.

Assuming you are of age and a bit past childhood you have experienced most of what I presented above. So, when you say, “We have sex”, what do you mean? What do you want? What do you need?

When The Momentum Is Gone

2010-03-26T16:47:00.000-07:00

A student of physics will learn that a body will continue on its present course based on momentum. So will a man subjected to FLR.

Momentum is described in many terms depending on the context. If a body is subjected to a force that would deter it from its path, the body will spend its momentum to resist the force. Unless another force is applied to the body to compensate, the momentum will be spent, and the body will become a captive of the prevailing force, or another interesting term, entropy. Entropy is the absence of opposing forces once all energy is spent. It is a total lack of energy.

While humans, except in rare cases, are not subject to entropy, losing momentum is common. It is a result of having no input into the energy reserve.

A human relationship is described as “A romantic or sexual involvement” among other things. If either the romantic or the sexual part is not reinforced periodically, the relationship will lose momentum to the point of entropy.

I may have lost some readers here, but those of you who remain will realize the truth. No matter what the relationship is, the needs of the participants must be reinforced by rewards in order for the relationship to survive. Whether you are master, slave, dominant, submissive, lover, or just lustful, there must be some pay for your love, caring, devotion, and service. At the same time, you must put your care, your love, your effort into the relationship in order to reap the benefits.

So, what do you do if you get no pay?

A Philosophical Dilemma of the Need to Serve

2010-03-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

Kink Is Great, But It Will Not Endure

What do you want? Do you want her to be truly in charge, or do you want her to do what you think you need?

Some of us feel the need to be controlled by a woman. We go to the Woman Store, and shop. On the shelves are excellent and enticing products ranging from gently-guiding to raging sadists, all are females of accommodating nature to our needs. We wish that we could try all of them, but we need to be realistic about the price. We must choose one, for it will require expenditure in time, effort, finances, and emotions. It will require one-at-a-time commitment. It is not something that we can take home and use for one night, then exchange like a rented movie. Once we are into the relationship, we need to see it through for longer than one night.

The Woman Initiates the Relationship

Forget the Woman Store. Get realistic about the relationship that you think you have. By far the easiest would be when she says, “Here is the way we are going to have it. Take it or leave now.” You take it, and live with it. If you don’t like the result, well, tough shit. You have asked for it.

Even though this option was offered to you and you took it, you bitch about the result. She does not give you enough cock and ball torture. She does not deny and entice you enough. She does not cuckold you and use you to clean up afterward. She does not dress you as a maid and force you to serve her girlfriends. She does not put you over her knees and spank you.

What she does is what she wants to do, namely, use you for her purpose, which was the original intention only you did not see it. She has you work your ass off. She has you clean her house, cook her meals, and serve them to her. She has you work for a living, mow the lawn, wash her car, and make payments on it. What you get out of it is at her whim. From time to time you connect with her needs and yours, but mostly it is not with your needs. She is complacent in knowing that she has a schmuck who is willing to do anything for her in return for her just enjoying it. In an extreme case this might work. In general it will fail. The reason is that you expect compensation for your devotion, your hard labor, and your commitment. If all she does is take and not give, you get bored, then you get angry, then you want to quit.

You Initiate the Relationship

You are having a normal (vanilla) relationship with an attractive woman. Things develop to where both of you are ready for more than just dating once a week. You both commit to something long term. All is well until your questionable submissive needs surface again, and you need to do something: see a professional, suppress and ignore your feelings, or convince your woman that you need this serving a woman kink.

Seeing the professional would take care of the problem periodically. Suppressing your problem would eventually erupt in worse ways than you have it now. That leaves convincing your partner that she must change to accommodate your needs. Then you lay down your rules. She will have to force you to serve her in kinky ways. She will dress you in maid’s uniform, she will whip you for infractions, she will tie you to the bed and rape you, she will install a chastity device and keep you horny for years, she will bring home boyfriends and girlfriends to use you as a sex slave, she will use electrical devices on you, she will use a dildo to rape your ass, etc.

What if she does not want to do all or any of that?

Can you see the common theme in the two alternatives that I posed?

It’s all about your needs. In the first case she decided, but you don’t really want to do it her way. In the second case you are forcing her to do it your way even though none of that was her idea.

What Now?

There has to be a way to satisfy both of you, and that is where most relationships break when one or the other is unwilling to compromise. I read a rather involved posting on a blog at She Is In Charge in which the man said, “Far too much emphasis is put on what you think she would find desirable, and not what it is that she actually wants.” This is a general statement that, for once, I will endorse given the context of what a man wants. You think that she wants to be served, pampered, adored, and given total authority over you. Ideally, if you both support that notion, you are in hog-haven. The pisser is, things don’t work that way for longer than, well it depends: a few days, weeks, or a month. Things change, and you must change with them. Besides, did you ask her what she needs?

Relationships will work for a while. Even a one-night-stand qualifies. Longer commitments work when mutual needs are satisfied. Long-term relationships need basic support that most of us can’t give except in rare circumstances. Not all of us are lip-locked with kinky D/S material, which is the stuff of most of these blogs. Mutual needs will suffice for a while. However, when the kink or the sex goes, the relationship fails unless it was based on love and care.

Kink is great, but it will not endure. Stylized female led relationship is kink. Form your own conclusion.

Jesus To A child

2010-03-14T17:52:00.000-07:00

Don't tell me that I am not a romantic!

Music is in the mind of the beholder. To some, rap is crap (I happen to agree). To some, music like this is ho-hum. To me, this is penetratingly beautiful. The video is not impressive. However, the singing, the music, and the lyrics are devastating. Sadness and hopeless love permeate the utter joy of the rendering in vocal and musical accompaniment. You may want to read the lyrics (below) as you watch and listen. This is not a trivial piece of production. This has meaning produced by one who has gone through the agony of losing love. It is sad, hopeless, yet endearing to the point of your wanting to hug the person. Enjoy!

Jesus To A Child -- George Michael

The lyrics are below:

Kindness in your eyes

I guess you heard me cry
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child

I'm blessed, I know
Heaven sent and heaven stole
You smiled at me Like Jesus to a child

And what have I learned
From all this pain?
I thought I'd never feel the same
About anyone
Or anything again

But now I know
When you find love
When you know that it exists
Then the lover that you miss
Will come to you
On those cold, cold nights

When you've been loved
When you know it holds such bliss
Then the lover that you kissed
Will comfort you
When there's no hope in sight

Sadness in your eyes

No one guessed, or no one tried
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child

Loveless and cold
With your last breath you saved my soul
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child
And what have I learned
From all these
I've waited for you all those years
And just when it began
He took your love away
But I still say
When you find love
When you know that it exists
Then the lover that you miss
Will come to you
On those cold, cold nights
When you've been loved
When you know it holds such bliss
Then the lover that you kissed
Will comfort you
When there's no hope in sight

So the words you could not say
I'll sing them for you
And the love we would have made
I'll make it for two
For every single memory
Has become a part of me
You will always be
My love

Well, I've been loved
So I know just what love is
And the lover that I kissed
Is always by my side

Oh the lover I still miss
Was Jesus to a child

Yeah, Yeah, More Friggin' Heroes

2010-03-13T15:14:00.000-08:00

I know that I have been harping about the police, how much they are unappreciated, etc. so I introduced another subject on one of my favorite people, the so-called firefighters. I call them firemen or firewomen.

I did not want to be too tedious in my prior post, so I limited it to the essence. But there is more.

You could be driving along and get the stuff scared out of you as you suddenly hear the siren and various warbles of the emergency vehicle over your stereo blasting crap (sorry, I meant rap). The monstrous vehicle whizzes by you, blowing you off the road in its wake: all red and yellow, with lights flashing around. You gather your resources and get back into traffic.

The men and women in that monstrous mechanical device are getting their thrills. That is why they are in that line of work. They want more from life than 8-5 flipping burgers or scanning code at some cash register. Aside from the fact that it pays well, usually has good retirement benefits, and they can go home after the event is over, it is a glamorous job that requires balls, male or female. I am not talking “entertainment glamour” here, for which I have little use. These are real people with commitment, strength of body and character, hard continual training, and abstaining from some things that most of us partake on a whim. They put in their time in education, training, and on the job with the real thing, and continuous re-training. They also put up with politically correct crap, and often politically correct discrimination based on arbitrary rules of the current fad by asinine politicians. They persevere, for the rewards are worth it. They are firefighters in the current politically correct terminology.

They are the warriors of fire who whiz by you on the way to … well, I don’t want to get into that. Much of the time it is a low-key or a false alarm, and they end up with someone else cleaning up the mess while they stand around looking glamorous, then drive back to the station to re-stack their equipment for the next call. That does not mean, however, that all is a piece of cake. They get into some danger, and some lose their life as a result. Compare that to what you do or are required to do daliy, and quit bitching about hardship and annoyances.

I have worked with them side by side for years. Some I know intimately, some are friends, and some are schmucks, just like real people. On the average they carry more than their weight, and are more trustworthy than the regular citizens. I would not want to be without them. I appreciate them. Of course, there are exceptions.

So, when you feel relatively safe in your home, or in your vehicle out there, remember that these firefighters are there to rescue your ass when you end up in a mess. Make sure that you vote for improving their benefit package. Most of you could not or would not want to do what these people do daily. You need them more than you need the shallow images of humanity thrust into your face by the entertainment business. These are real people. Some of them are your neighbors. Some of them are your family. Some of them are you.

Sex Idols

2010-03-11T17:02:00.000-08:00

I keep running across women, including MW, who idolize firemen. You know, the tall, muscular, in-good-shape-benign-creatures, who will give them mouth-to-mouth resuscitation (they wish!) when rescuing them from the abuse of their no-good boyfriend’s excesses. In a small way I feel jealous. These firemen don’t have to do anything to be the target of women’s fantasies, they just are. Sheesh. Where have I failed?

Responding to emergencies as a police officer we get the detail and we hightail it to the scene. I have never arrived at a true emergency situation before these firemen had their comfortable home-away-from-home humongous rice-rockets already parked at an angle across the road with the friggin’ strobing lights all over the place. I don’t know what it is. We get the 911 results from the dispatcher just the same. Maybe after the mandatory delay … as it were.

In spite of all that I don’t resent firemen. They are always civil, helpful, and stand there like they own the place while we, lawmen, say, “Hm.. Yes, that’s right, we’ll get to it,” and do what the hell ever we are supposed to do, like directing traffic away from the scene.

In all my years I have not heard of any nutcase shooting a fireman. But there have been many shootings, stabbings, clubbings, and vehicle slaughter of policemen. Why? Are the citizens feeling guilty for which they have to hate the police but love the firemen knowing that the firemen don’t arrest them?

I really don’t hold a grudge. Maybe some decades ago I could have chosen to be a fireman, and learn to love the job. Then, I might have realized that I really wanted to be police, and not miss most of the fun. As they say, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”

One side has danger, but in most cases, glamour. The other side has glamour, but in most cases danger. What do you choose: glamorous life, or glamorous death?

I still have my police skills, but I doubt that I could get a job as a fireman at this point in my life. One must stay in shape. I am in relatively good shape, but I couldn’t compete with those tall muscular young men applying for the same position.

Then there are those firewomen, to coin a term. Yes, I know, the politically correct term is firefighter, leaving gender identity out of the picture. That is, unless you are on the scene. Damn, I don’t want to leave gender out of the picture. I have met some wonderful firewomen on the scene, and I would love to see more of them. But, that’s just me, the horny male who loves women. That is why MW keeps me controlled. I must not give away the store, so to speak. It is her store, and I know it. Still, I love to see those firewomen.

Oral Justice

2010-03-11T05:50:00.000-08:00

Oral justice is a tribute to the female.

Whether male or female doing it, a female getting justice via oral service by a submissive is what I call the ultimate thrill of the giver. This has nothing to do with my rantings about a female needing a brain to be in charge. This is primal, way below what we assess as intelligence. She is female, therefore, she needs and deserves oral justice! Her self, demeanor, education, and intelligence are superimposed on this, and spread over all of femininity. But it does not change a thing.

Females have all this in common. Imagine yourself tossed into a room and looking at a woman. You get no questions answered, no option of what to do, just appreciating the target of all humanity, the female of creation. With your hands tied behind you, you are at her mercy of pleasure and pain. You are dismissed or used. You are worthless or worthy to her. You give or you get. You take what she decides to give you or take from you. Even without your hands tied you will go with it, because she is woman.

I expect that some of my readers will disagree. I would like to argue with you. Those of you who agree, please comment. Your words would amplify my and the readers’ feelings on this. I have a terrific imagination. I have written much, including books. Doing justice orally to a female is the basis of all that. I was borne of female, and will die serving one. Meanwhile, oral service to her is the greatest thrill I crave.

Yeah! Put Her In Charge! That'll Work

2010-03-08T04:57:00.000-08:00

Sheesh, I may be harping on this subject too long, but it is so tempting to exploit that I will do it anyway. I am addressing those of you out there who think that females should be in charge at all cost, no qualifications needed other than being born with a vagina. In other words, no brain is necessary. This is similar to the reasoning that some people use to decide that a man should be in charge on account of his hairiness, somewhat muscular features, and oh yes, the thingies dangling between his thighs. I could puke thinking about these, but I will spare you the disgusting details.

If you need convincing evidence that females are not the superior gender, take a gander at pornography. Regardless of your preferences, you will find those who will disgust you. Of course, you need to remain somewhat realistic in agreeing that females in pornography are generally stupid. If this were not so, they would not try to make a living selling their pathetic looking forms to sleasy producers. If they had the assumed intelligence, they would be bosses in some private business where they can kick male and female ass. The whip-wielding skinny rent-a-cunt females for two-bit videos need not apply when it comes to assessing intelligence. If they had any, … like I said, they would really be in charge.

This is not saying that females should not be in charge. What I am insisting is that the job depends on the individual. If she or he can provide what it takes, by all means take charge. As for the rest of us, well, you know… We will follow orders even if it means pretending to be in charge with whips, chains, rubber, and such.

She Gave Me A Rose

2010-03-07T15:24:00.000-08:00

She is a nurturing female. She cares for humans, animals, plants, even for gadgets. She is the counterpart of me. I would be empty without her.

I listen to Roger Whittaker’s “Honey” and I cry for the emotion that it evokes in me as I think of her. She is most of my life. Without her I would be empty or dead.

She gave me a rose today, one of those that she raised from a stick. Her gesture is devastatingly loving. I could die for her.

The Denial Tool

2010-03-07T15:10:00.000-08:00

There is a lot of discussion on the blogs about the value of denying a man his orgasm and how much more ardent he becomes in turn, blah, blah, … A reasonable discussion of it I have read at Hormonal Urges.

Much of this is based on fantasy, folklore, and myth. I find it funny to read someone saying how a man is more willing to serve a woman if he is horny, as opposed to being satiated after an orgasm.

Right. So, who is writing this? Is it a man in his dull fantasy, one who has no access to a female whom he can serve, or is it a woman who has everything figured out with respect to how men are, based on one slovenly boyfriend?

I want to set some things straight for the rest of this post. I am a man. I am heterosexual, I love women, and I love to serve women.

As for universal rules, yes, there are some, such as “once you are dead you are dead”, but I cannot, and will not make any here. I will make comments based on my experience and my education, but will avoid trying to give you a rule to live by, such as, “keep him chaste, and he will serve you to the hilt …” Yeah, right.

I admit that I have fantasies that I would love to fulfill just before, or at the time of orgasms, and then no way would I want to encounter them on purpose. Don’t we all?

What does not change, however, is my basic relationship with MW. Regardless of dire circumstances, we are mated for life. We serve each other like we serve no one else. This is based on knowledge, respect, love, and devotion. Sex enters the picture in a grand manner, but it is not the deciding factor.

Many relationships, including marriage, fail because sex is the deciding factor. So, when you talk of chastity, denial, female led relationship, dominance/submission, are you including the basic supporting means of a relationship, or are you just talking sex? If you are just talking sex, then this myth of men being useless unless they are kept horny fits with your understanding.

I am not implying that you cannot have great sex without commitment. You can, which is why condoms were invented. I think that is where the tease and denial idea is best used effectively dealing with a shallow man, or used by a shallow woman. It has been demonstrated by anecdotal experience all over the blogosphere. It is fun under the circumstances. But, don’t try to make it a universal rule.

There are some of us who have commitments deeper than an orgasm.

Oh-Oh! I Am Pissed! Don't Growl!

2010-03-05T15:06:00.000-08:00

I am a linguist, and a protector of the language. I become annoyed at slang and bad grammar insinuating itself into proper vocabulary and usage, yet I admit that the trend is simply evolution. Still, I have my limits.

There was a time before speech developed in the human culture. Growls, grunts, and arm waving had to suffice for civil communication. A growl may have meant various things, each not pleasant, so the other person had to beware immediate danger, whereas a grunt may have been a sign of satisfaction. Arm waving may have been used as modifiers, somewhat physically analogous to adjectives. Then, speech was invented to avoid ambiguity, and to allow explicit expression of thought whether prosaic or poetic (I am being farcical on purpose).

So why subvert this wonderful instrument of conveying even the most subtle thought?

Here are some example scenarios of overt subversion:

“Oh-oh!” [Utterance by the controlling person with an expected subsequent query from the controlled person]

“What’s the problem?” [Requisite query from the controlled person as an expected response with sign of worry]

“I think I may have broken a nail.” [Information that could have been conveyed in the first place without wasting time on the first interchange or annoying the other person]

“Oh. I was worried for a second. Silly me. Next time please just say what the hell bothers you!” [Show of obvious annoyance at the interchange]

One of the most useless mannerisms of modern English speaking people is the spontaneous use of “Oh-oh”. It is uttered (growled) when one encounters an undesirable or imminently undesirable event or situation. Here are some examples.

He and she have just finished sex in their bedroom at home. He rolls over to his back and growls, “Oh-oh.” She thinks he is having some medical emergency, soiled the bed sheet, or maybe it is something bad that she had done. He uttered the growl because he smelled something unpleasant that turns out to be a gift left by their puppy-in-training.

She and he are on the road in a car heading for an appointment. She drives through an intersection when she growls, “Oh-oh”. He thinks that she is having a medical problem or car trouble, and is immediately in high adrenaline mode. It turns out that she ran a stop sign, and the police are pulling her over.

He and she are having a pleasant conversation over dinner at a nice restaurant when he growls, “Oh-oh.” Thoughts run through her mind imagining all kinds of bad things taking place. He growled because he spotted an old girlfriend being seated at an adjacent table.

She and he are walking back to their car after dinner. The parking lot is dark and creepy. She growls, “Oh-oh.” He does not know whether to wet his pants or get his gun out of his concealed holster. The reason she growled is that she just remembered leaving her expensive lipstick in the ladies’ room as she was touching up her lips before leaving.

What would you say is common in these examples aside from their insipidity?

What is common is the obfuscation of the intent to convey the very information that is still to be conveyed. The reason for the “Oh-oh” utterance in each case is prompted by the situation. The execution of the utterance in each case is unnecessary, unproductive, time wasting, annoying, irritating etc. So why do it?

Why indeed? It conveys no information other than some source of worry from the one who does the growl, which in turn causes more worry in the other person’s mind. The information that should have been conveyed in the first place still needs to be done. Now the other person either waits for it, or asks about it. If he has to act on the situation, it is now some seconds later which could be significant in the success or failure of his response. I remember the scene from Mad Max when the creepy little girls says, "Oh-oh, we're dead meat!" Obiously that required a question and then a subsequent answer. Useless.

This is one of those social habits that would be best deleted, for it has no purpose unless one wants to irritate the person who would hear the utterance.

If I succumb to being verbally baited, the other person is controlling me, as in the contrived introductory scenario. As I age I have learned to avoid being baited under any circumstance. The result is that I ignore any utterance of "Oh-oh". A sensible way to see that introductory scenario is as follows:

“I think I may have broken a nail.” [Information conveyed by a non-controlling person, not necessarily requiring a response]

“Sorry dear, I would love to repair if for you.” [Offer supplied in response by a caring person]

I know that the scenarios I have presented are contrived, but they are based on reality. You could substitute your own experience to demonstrate the uselessness of this growl especially when used in dire situations where every second is significant.

Let Us Be Real

2010-03-02T05:32:00.000-08:00

I love colors. My memories go back to Christmas candies wrapped in brilliant foils of blue, yellow, green, purple, etc. Of course, my appreciation of colors does not stop there. I am a connoisseur of female underwear.

Whoa! Is there a connection? Well, in a way there is. If you go to a store with national chain establishment you get your basic white or beige female underwear as the available staple.

Oh, before I go further, I will clarify. When I say, “I am a connoisseur of female underwear” I mean on a female person, not me. I would look like crap wearing it, and have no desire to do so. However, I love to see it on women. A matching set of bra and panties on a woman turns up my appreciation to near meltdown. Go figure!

It is no wonder that I want to acquire a set for MW even though there is no pseudo holiday coming up, say, Valentine’s day, mothers’ day, birthday, and so on. I just thought that it would be nice to give her a few new sets that would beg to be hand washed by me because they are so beautiful. Basically it was the colors that turned me on. But then, black (lack of color in scientific terms), and white (all colors in scientific terms) have their appeal when worn by the appreciated female, so I am not picky. It’s just that I love brilliant colors.

It’s no use going to stores that I know. Besides the basics I mentioned above, these stores have nothing. The brilliant hues must be sold by some establishment, and I needed to research, “Enter Internet.”

The first hurdle was running into what I call “stick figure advertisement”. They show unreal women in skimpy stuff that would require 1/10 of a cubic inch (size of a pea) to contain if packing your luggage. I am not giving away my preferences here, but seeing female models who may have been starved to near death before allowed to appear in front of the camera is not my idea of reality. I have not done research on the average weight of females who are willing to pay for underwear, but I am willing to bet my yearly allocation of wine that it is not 78 pounds. I am sure that it is closer to 120, and there is a large camp of 145 and on.

The problem with this is that if I have a favorite female in mind for the gift, and she is larger than the 78-pound emaciated pathetic waif, I have a hard time visualizing the result of my gift. I would like to stomp the idiots who decide that this sort of advertisement is proper.

Maybe I gave up too soon. Aside from the out of proportion models I failed to find the brilliant colors that I set out to acquire. I still visualize MW in these colors with her wonderful endowments enhanced by them. Not that she does not look great dressed only in her freckles, just that, sometimes a bit of decoration does wonders. I need some help here with the colors and size. Where, oh where, do I go?

Update On The Events Of Last Week

2010-02-28T04:15:00.000-08:00

There are a number of items about which I wish to talk to bring you up to date on developments.

Jason’s Deliverance

This is a femdom book. If you like female led relationships, strong women, Dominant female/Submissive male interaction, I think that you will like this book. If you would like to serve a woman with a strong hand, you need to read this. If you like a story with hardship, romance, and triumph, you definitely will enjoy this.

I have very much enjoyed writing this book. It is published under the pseudonym, “Jason Worth”, who is also the main character. I have included real characters who have relationships other than the usual “hump, hump, hump,” “suck, suck, suck”, and “whack, whack, whack” scenario depictions. The story is real (well, you decide!) and romantic, but with a purposeful D/S kick in favor of the female on the long run. It involves people whom you could know and care about or would be happy to destroy. It presents the transformation of a shallow young man into a person of value while titillating you with the details of his adventures. There is some incidental violence, but that is done to make the story compelling and true. There is servitude, honor, purpose, loyalty, submission, and love in addition to the obvious background.

To find this book you can go to http://www.pinkflamingo.com/and browse for the title, or go directly to an excerpt that gives you a flavor of the book: Excerpt from "Jason's Deliverance" at Pink Flamingo from which you can access the book. If you like it, I would welcome your giving your approval of it on your own blog or at least by your comments on mine. More such books may be in the queue.

Surgery1: I need some attention from some specialists that I had to postpone because MW and I had taken a scheduled trip. Next week, however, I will attend to it, although I despise oral surgery. In this case it may be necessary.

Surgery2: MW’s surgery is still pending some issues, but we are zeroing in on it. The trip put all that on hold also, so she will have a busy week next week just as I.

Trip: MW and I did one of our infrequent short vacations in a charming town that we had liked before. This trip was also great, but after a week we are happy to be back at home. She was planning to do another piercing on me, this time a dydoe variety. I could tell that she really wanted it, but I also felt that she was not ready for it probably because of the distractions. I set her mind at ease saying, “Let’s do this when we don’t have anything else to worry about.

Books Versus Movies: I may have pontificated about this before, but I need to set the stage for what I have revealed above.

I like to read as opposed to seeing movies or videos. I define movies as visual depiction of stories with mostly believable people and plot. They can be drama, comedy, biography, even cartoons and fairy tales. Movies usually involve writers, producers, directors, actors, different kinds of professionals, and usually someone with money to make all that possible.

What I am not including is what is generally termed videos, which may be a misnomer, or at least, doing injustice to a true video that is somewhat like a movie, only less. Then there are videos with no plot, gratuitous sex or violence whether faked or real, and of low quality production.

Now that I have defined my visual input to story telling, I want to say this: “As much as I like movies, they cannot convey the depth of a story the way books do.”

“Shocking!” you say. Maybe so, but movies rely on what can be conveyed visually, and often skip over what actually makes a story. That is exactly why movies based on books detach themselves from the true story line and end up with shallow special effects at the expense of what the writer of the book so eloquently conveyed. In my vast experience with books and movies, my rule is, “Never see a movie based on a book that you have read and liked!” For example, I read the book, Battlefield Earth by L. Ron. Hubbard. It was a bit two-dimensional, but I was still fascinated with it. I formed a real mental relationship with the characters and the people they represented. Then there was the subsequent movie based on the book. Result: no resemblance.

Getting back to my original line of thought, I again say, “I prefer books.” I can immerse myself in their depth, and visualize all that I think the writer is saying. My imagination fills in the gaps, I experience it to be real enough to feel what the characters feel, and experience what they do. Some of this can be done in a movie, just don’t try to depict what was written in the book. Many people will be angry about the shallow attempt no matter how much money was spent on it.

This reasoning supports my preference for books even more. Writing a book is by itself a great adventure by the author. He feels as if he is creating life. The characters are his children. He is responsible for giving them attributes that enable them to function. It is godlike! A book will take effort for research and investment in time, but nowhere near the amount expended for a movie. Yet, for the reader, it can be more effective entertainment. You be the judge.

Your Standard Of Beauty

2010-02-20T09:03:00.000-08:00

We all have expectation of beauty when it comes to the human. Beauty is subjective. It depends on ethnic and cultural influences on the person making this judgement. Early subjection to certain humans make a tremendous impact on our later preferences. I would love to research it and write a book. Alas, my time is limited to things that need my attention now, so the book will have to wait. For now I am doing a quick survey to at least show a preference. It does not include facial features, skin color, or race. It is mostly a perception of the body.

I have added another poll to my blog. In this I am interested in finding out your preferences for beauty. I had to split the poll in order to end up with reasonable sorting of the responses. For example, if the poll was dumped into one, and I ask, “Your gender: (1) Female, (2) Male, (3) Bisexual, … and then the actual poll questions,” there is no stopping you from clicking more than one answer, which would make the calculation of respondent percentages invalid. In the first part I try to get an idea of who is voting. The actual choice to make is as follows:

Female Heterosexual
Female Homosexual
Male Heterosexual
Male Homesexual
Bisexual mostly – I will swing either way, as opposed to “I could be forced to do it” (hell, most of us would be glad to be forced).

In the actual part of the preferences survey I tried to limit the number of alternatives, yet express a range that you could choose as the best that represents your feelings. For example, you might have a range between “Soft and trim” and “Abundantly curvaceous”. Choose one. This is anonymous, and you are not committing to a relationship here except in your fantasy, so don’t be shy. I know it is difficult. If a range of females were to offer themselves covering all this, with my wife’s permission, of course, I would have great difficulty to choose. But, If I limit it to, say, a weekend bout, then the choice would be easier.

Here is the actual survey:

Very thin - as in “supermodel” thin with bones nearly visible through the skin.
Thin and trim - naturally thin, but not emaciated
Trim and muscular - thin rather than heavy, but obviously muscular (not the heavy-weight-lifting necessarily)
Soft and trim - trim, but with some obvious softness
Soft and curvaceous - curves rather than trim, but not heavy
Abundantly curvaceous - somewhat overweight, any shape
Large and proportional - abundant without out of proportion parts
Large and emphasized - abundant with some emphasized parts, such as breasts, hips, derriere
Emphasized parts - anything with emphasized parts

The above is presented from a mostly heterosexual male’s point of view, so I skipped the preferences for the male attraction. If any of you have a constructive comment for me to poll preferences for the male in a similar fashion, please give me your list, and we could go from there. Your list should be limited to categories that range from here to there, so that I can make any alternative exclusive. For example, “Tall, dark and handsome” versus “Tall blonde and masculine” are not good alternatives, for they overlap. Please let your creativity and fantasy go to work, and we will have fun with it.

By the way, you may vote more than once. For example, if you are so versatile that you just cannot dismiss preferences for, say, “Abundantly curvaceous” and “Emphasized parts”, then by all means vote twice. Your votes will not dilute the preferences, but weigh the trend toward type.

Evolution

2010-02-18T16:35:00.000-08:00

This has little to do with the eternal controversy of evolution versus creation. My current emphasis is on this definition by Merriam Webster: “ Evolution is the process of developing”.

I have done a lot of pontification since I started this blog. Some of it may have made sense. I have learned a few things since then. I can sum them up in this statement: “Nothing remains the same, whereas, everything changes.” You may have to think about that a bit.

When you think that you have an FLR figured out and it is working just fine, stuff happens, and the “just fine FLR” is derailed, or at best, shuttled off to some seldom or never used spur. Before you know it, all things having to do with FLR don’t seem that important any more. You have real things to do that don’t care who is in charge.

There is the other aspect of FLR, the basis of the whole scheme: sex play. Interestingly, you can have one without the other, and never get involved in the movement for female leadership. It can just happen. However, in most FLRs you end up in the doldrums without the sex play dominated by the female. Then it is over. You don’t have it any more, and when you read from other people who are still struggling to steer it into the wind, you lose patience. You see what you used to do. You see what they are doing wrong. You see the doldrums ahead for them too.

Some escape the inevitable. Those are the ones where the woman is naturally dominant, and the man is at least somewhat submissive. As for the rest, well, I am sure you have seen many FLR blogs come and go. They speak for themselves.

This is what I meant by evolution. We don’t maintain status quo for long. That is reserved for well-maintained machines. Humans evolve even within the lifetime of a short relationship. That is why many end up in separation. Those who prevail will change anyway. What was terribly urgent and important last year may be passé this year. Love will overcome some of the difficulties, but things will be different. You cannot go back to the way it was in your initial enthusiasm. You cannot make up for hurts, things missed, and the inevitable changes that life imposes on responsible people. Things will be different henceforth. If you are lucky you will still have the loving relationship with which you began.

Some of you will not survive.

The Weakness Of The Male

2010-02-12T17:12:00.000-08:00

In legends and in history men succumbed to the charms of women, and did things in private that they would not do before their peers. There was Delilah of biblical times, Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and more of recent times including in your lives I am sure who demonstrated man’s weakness for females.

A woman does magical things to a man, and the man in turn loses control of his logic while trying to satisfy his current addiction to the female charm. A coarsely framed thought by virulent feminists says, “A man is driven by his penis,” or such drivel. Yes, one can just as simplistically say, “A woman is driven by her hormones without logic.” Either claim is thoughtless and trivial. Generalizing like that makes enemies in both camps.

I like to think of this eternal attraction between male and female as the prime directive of perpetuating the human. It is demonstrated in lower lives, some mistakenly deemed human, but generally in mammals and even in other species. There is nothing wrong with sexual attraction. It is what you do with it that may be good or bad. We all know the bad things, and I won’t say anything about them here.

The good things about sexual attraction between male and female is that on the long run it makes sure that humans procreate. The obviouos motivational and beneficial side effect is the enjoyment of the process. Homosexuality is ok as a sexual preference, regardless of the controversy about it being inherited or assumed. The only problem would be if humans were on the fringe of being unable to produce new offsprings, and that is definitely not the case. The human population is increasing at an alarming rate, as evidenced by wars, famine, and pollution.

Getting back to the main topic, which is the male’s reaction to the female’s attraction, I will say, “Bring it on.” I don’t have to do anything about it. I enjoy seeing a female under benign circumstances. I don’t mind admitting that females can do things to me that I suffer, even welcome. These are things I allow that some would consider showing weakness. Yes, I am weak when it comes to females. Not totally weak, for I still have a brain where logic dictates above all, aside from immediate reaction to assure survival. But reaction to female charm is my second most powerful emotion.

Consider the facts. Females are generally smaller and physically weaker than males. If males did not have this all-powerful drive, females would have been killed in early competition for food and shelter. They would have had no defense against the brutish males. So females came up with a powerful weapon: ensnare the brutish males in all that speaks of female. Scents of female can be devastating. A male would follow them to the end. The visual display of fat on a female defines her form. Sure, muscles are vital, but on the long run fat is what decides curves and such. Above all, the female's approach to life is nurturing, loving, tenderness, with few exceptions.

The males did not have a chance. Good thing that the females were not evil, or they could have killed off all males from day one. I guess it is a matter of evolution for survival. We need each other. We like each other. We love each other. We would not want to live without each other.

In a way this brings up the question of which came first, the attractive female or the attracted male. Either they were created simultaneously, or they evolved based on need. The early man had the means to bring home the meat. The early woman showed him where to put it. Those who did not follow the obvious lead, did not produce offsprings.

Distillation of the Essence of Female Led Relationship

2010-02-11T05:43:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog I was eagerly grabbing anything to do with Female Led Relationship (FLR). I also got my thrills reading about D/S, CBT, orgasm denial, etc. But then, this was the year 2007, and blogspace has bloated since. It seems that anyone with access to the Internet via a computer or some lesser devices will post anything.

We are mired in crud!

I still enjoy selected blogs whose authors appear intelligent and not virulent in their dismissal of the lifestyle or personage of others.

Alas, some blogs are posted by beings of barely literate capacity although they might have something reasonable to say. I skip these subsequently, for I don’t need the annoyance of ill-composed prose, third-grade grammar, bathroom anecdotes, and no knowledge past what he or she sees on prime-time TV or daytime drama.

There are a few blogs with obvious intelligence, alas, tainted by perverse psychological depravity and fantasy space. See for example Ayesha. She and I have some things in common, yet, I see her as Typhoid Mary. Don’t get near her for fear of your life.

I have either matured or become jaded over the last three years. I still believe in the goodness of FLR on an individual basis. It can be wonderful when both partners sign up to it and honor it.

Over the last three years I have seen many FLRs come and go. Most failures were caused by lack of motivation, and subsequently, lack of commitment. I now believe that the only FLR that survives time is the one where the woman is a natural dominant, and the man is a natural submissive. This is my rule number one, the only rule of FLR. Other combinations are transitory. You are welcome to give me counter-examples, and I would be anxious to be informed. But you must be convincing. For example, the relationship to refute my claim would have to be long-term, such as more than a few of years, have a plan for the future, such as including moral, emotional, financial, and legal commitments, and having survived hardships. Those in current sexual infatuation with a person, and part-time-FLR need not apply.

If all you have is anecdotal evidence of FLR with a lot of sex, kink, and satisfaction of one partner or other, don’t bother to convince me. Regardless of the subject, such as CBT, cuckolding, spanking, slavery, etc., they are just sex play: take away the kink, and you are out of what you thought to be FLR.

If you are an avid advocate of female supremacy at the cost of males, you are in fantasy-land, and will have a hard awakening when your ass hits the road after being booted or abandoned.

If all you have is hope, fantasy, or a few sexual scenarios, have fun, but you are not within reality.

Real FLR partners are encouraged to respond (see for example, femdom101), and I would be happy to learn about you, and would support you. If I get no response, then I will conclude that I am right.

I Appreciate Erotic Photography

2010-02-04T16:36:00.000-08:00

I realize that the appreciation of the view of females, males, or together is personal. We all have preferences. What I am putting forth here is expressing only my likes and dislikes. I don’t mean that other view or preferences are wrong in any way. I am sure that most of us would have some of these in common. There is a partial overlap in preferences. For example, most of us like to see the female form whether we are male, female, heterosexual, or other. I would like to have included samples of photography to illustrate my point. Alas, I have none that I own, and I rarely use existing photos without permission. I am sure that you can find many that would suffice for your satisfaction. It would be fun.

I like to see a female form in mostly upright position, such as standing, leaning on props. She may have one knee on a chair, for example. I like to see her from the front, side, and back. There is such a powerful feeling imparted by her muscles, curves, skin, hair. A face can be an additional attraction, but it can also be detraction.

I like to see the point of view from the camera focused midway on the figure to give it balance. Many photographers are insensitive to that. They are often taller than the subject, and focus on or near the chest and head. The result is a distortion that does injustice to the subject. I often say, “Beautiful woman, bad photography.”

I tolerate poses that emphasize individual features of the woman. Sometimes they can be very attractive. However, when all that is shown is her parts, that is, concentrating on breasts, thighs, bottom in various positions, I find that something major is missing. It could be that she would be less attractive in full figure representation. Then again, I think that the principals involved (photographer and subject) are just inexperienced or stupid. If the parts poses are part of a gallery that includes the full figure shots, maybe it is OK.

I dislike close-up explicit shots of genitalia, especially when manipulated. I find it demeaning to the subject. I admit that some of the subjects would be doing something more meaningful if they were intelligent, but still, there is no need for it. If I want to see that, I could go for the raunchy pornography sites for it.

I don’t mind seeing a male form occasionally. However, when it is involved in explicit sexual acts with the female, I get turned off immediately. I don’t resent the implications that two may have had sex, for sex is what is driving the world. I just don’t want to see that degree of open intimacy.

I dislike oiled skin shots. The whole idea of oiled skin makes no sense. If she has oil on her, and she sits or lies on some fabric, the oil makes a mess of it. I cannot imagine my wanting to kiss or lick her anywhere that is covered by oil. Even worse is when she is dressed in assumed sexy wear and still be oiled. It does not follow. But there are some situations where oil on the skin is palatable. For example, a beach scenario, or say, oiled-skin wrestling, but that is getting off the subject.

Makeup and facial expressions can be erotic, distracting, and repulsive. Any normal look between serious, pleasant, or happy is fine. I dislike the faked pursed lips and pseudo sexy looks. Even worse than that are the sneering looks some women put on in an attempt to look different. Some women should not try to put on these fake looks, for they end up looking ridiculous. The photographer should be cognizant of the detraction. Yet, they go with it, thereby producing a gallery of much less value.

Occasionally I run across photographs in which a woman is portrayed as a dominant. I am sure that it is in the eye of the beholder, or the limited minds of the principals. A woman without stature can put on any combination of plastic, rubber, metal, and will look ridiculous. She can wear those asinine platform boots laced up to her eyeballs with the crotch and back open, and look even worse. On the other hand, some women need not have any of that. They could be portrayed in almost ordinary clothes or something more revealing, and still convey strength of demeanor. Choosing the quality of the subject is as important as choosing the photographer.

Since I am talking about still photography, voice, acting, and sophistication are not a consideration, so there is no hint about her attractiveness in those dimensions. For all we know, she could be a complete dud but beautiful. Still, some women impart class, when others impart a base quality. It may be a combination of props, presentation, and photography in addition to her looks. I have my preferences of size, shape, facial features, age, etc. as we all do. I am also versatile when it comes to those. Here is where presentation makes all the difference.

Photographs of non-professional females in their own environment can be very endearing and sensual as long as they don’t get very explicit, as in “spread lips”. These are impromptu snapshots, not set up like the professionals. When they succeed, they get extra credit for being themselves.

Slow Going

2010-02-03T16:49:00.000-08:00

In September 2008 I first mentioned that MW would require surgery. She has planned it, and did some preliminary medical procedures to get to the point when the deed would be done. Things did not turn out well. Unrelated issues got in the way. Then there was her perfectionist approach dictating that all must be well before she embarks on this frightening and potentially dangerous journey. This year she decided to pursue it again, and re-started her effort with the medics.

Meanwhile she had scheduled another romantic getaway in another state for us. Her reasoning was, “I get the surgery out of the way, then all will be well, and we will have sex as we did before.” It is endearing to think that she could and would do that.

I am more of a realist. I know that I can depend on myself. I also know that when one or more persons are in the scenario, and the action of one depends on response of the other, things aren’t done as I would like to have them. Considering that I am not in charge of who, what, and where for this case, we are at the mercy of the system. Sure, it will work eventually, but not within our desired time frame. As the weeks went by, she could see that her surgery and subsequent recovery would not happen before our romantic getaway. I assured her that the important issues were for her to be well and completely recovered. We could still have the trip, but the surgery will likely be done after that.

During some pre-surgery tests the doctor came up with two potentially troublesome discoveries. We are still waiting for the evaluation and further tests. The way it looks, there is no chance for the surgery before the trip. It is also possible that we will have to cancel the trip in case the tests indicate a need for urgent response.

I know that I have not been writing about our usual great sex lately. It is because all has been on hold. We still share a lot, but they are less sexually oriented. MW is worried, and that makes it more difficult to think about the pending surgery. I am careful not to even hint about what we have missed all this time. She has enough on her mind.

A Quote From Elise Sutton

2010-01-22T16:53:00.000-08:00

If there ever was a well-said opinion this is it from Elise Sutton:

“Lets take a step back and look at the purpose of a FemDom relationship. It is about your husband meeting your needs. It is not about you becoming the fulfillment of his fantasies.”

I regret that I don’t have the source of the quote, but I assure you that it is from her. I used to be an avid reader of hers.

If all males and females involved in an FLR were to abide by this, many such relationships would fizzle, others would transform in major ways. I am not saying that I have this rule that you must follow. Just that, there is a definition on which we could agree, for example, “Female leads, she makes the rules, male follows.” Sure, you can impose your own nuances on that, and no sane person would object as long as the basic rule is followed. Otherwise it is not an FLR, but yours or your wife’s fantasy. Somewhat like, “On Saturdays you wear the pink panties and …” I hope you know what I mean. Nothing wrong with that, and you could wear purple for all that anyone cares. But that is just between you and your partner, and does not change what E. Sutton said. She did not mention finances, house cleaning, oral service, or chastity in this statement. All she said of essence was that you [female] have your needs met. Period! The rest is up to the two of you.

I hope you enjoy!

Haunted By Ill-Placed Empathy

2010-01-22T13:48:00.000-08:00

I walk from my car to the store. Near the entrance a middle-aged man moves in my direction. His unkempt, ill-fitting clothes emanate an odor of many days’ sweat. His face may be handsome but the dark suntan under the unshaved skin conveys a neglect that is consistent with his persona. He is muttering something unintelligible as he steps off the curb into the path of oncoming traffic. I am within a couple of steps, so I lunge outward and pull him to safety by the back of his loose short coat. He lands on his bottom on the sidewalk. He ignores me.

She moves slowly on the sidewalk in an exaggerated rolling gait. She is pushing a shopping cart piled with items that most of us leave in dumpsters. Her clothes may have seen many previous owners. Layers of pants and shirts cover her to the extent that only part of her face is visible. Her hands are covered with gloves of filth. Her hair hangs below the cap on her head. The thick matted mess would resist combing with a rake. She stops every few steps and seems to count things in her mind using her fingers, then resumes her slow ambling. At the traffic signal she pauses, then turns her shopping cart around the way she came, and continues her trip. The passer-bys, the traffic, the noise of the street don’t seem to be in her realm.

These are two people not in my social acquaintance, unlikely to encounter again. They appear people who have lost contact with those who may have cared about them. Two people whom I may one day have to take into protective custody.

It was the evening of a holiday. Most of the drunken parties have taken place on the eve before, so we had little to do. No calls for our services were made, drivers behaved decently. We were getting sleepy. As I drove at traffic-speed my partner said, “We could serve some warrants.” He was always looking ahead, and as usual, had a handful of printed warrants to serve as an option.

“Come on, this is a holiday. Even a scumbag deserves a rest from time to time,” I suggested.

“Well then, let’s stop at the intersection. The intersection was where we usually bagged traffic offenders within a couple of minutes of observation. I drove there and stopped just off the road on a vacant lot, positioning the car so that we could see traffic from four directions. Just as we stopped an SUV slowed at the intersection, and made a left turn without stopping. With four-way stop signs that was cause for us to intercept. As I switched on the strobe we received a call to proceed to an address up in the foothills to see about a domestic dispute. The address was in the direction that I have taken already after the SUV. The driver of the SUV lucked out. We sped by her on the way.

Even with the emergency response it took about ten minutes, and by the time we got there, the dispute was over. We were satisfied. Nobody was seriously hurt, no charges were pressed, and we were asked to leave by both parties.

My partner said, “As long as we are here, we could see this guy.” He handed me the warrant for the arrest of a person with an address in the neigborhood. Charges: possession and sale of drugs in this state, escape from a psychiatric institution while under observation for domestic violence and lewd behavior in another state, etc. We are not judges, but we make some judgments. He seemed to be a person to arrest even on a holiday; besides, he was unlikely to be stupid enough to stay at his home address after that.

In the darkness of the night we looked for the address among trailer homes of the neighborhood. We found the place after several passes. A woman in her twenties answered the door. She was devastatingly beautiful and sexy. I tried to remain functional. The subject was asleep in the trailer, and had to be rousted to come along. My partner handled the arrest with his usual skill without incident while I watched the woman and her little boy who were standing outside within a few feet of me. The subject was a short, stocky man in his late twenties. His face emanated hatred and instability. Still wearing only shorts of some jersey material he was shirtless. We stuffed him into the back of the car with hands cuffed behind him. I asked the woman whether we could take some clothes along so that he could dress when the opportunity arose. She nodded, and then walked up the two steps into the trailer. In a minute she returned with a paper bag with some of his clothes, which I tossed, into the trunk of our car.

After we dropped off the subject at the jail I relaxed a bit while reflecting on the actors involved. Here I was, doing this mostly for fun. There was my partner, doing it for making a living. There was the subject doing it because at some point he though it was the best thing he could do. There was the woman who could have been in a better place just about anywhere, but she was doing it because she was protecting her son, an adorable five-year old.

It has been years ago that this took place, but I am still not over it. The danger that the man’s face projected was more than I would want to impose on a young woman and her child. Yet, as bad as I felt about the woman and her child, I felt worse about the man. He was obviously not fully functional in his mental capacity. He had to be contained, for he was dangerous. But he was some mother’s son. Some mother, who had lost the fight to protect him, as he grew away from her in age and involvement with bad people. The lovable five-year old that I remember from the incident may be following the same path, breaking the heart of his beautiful mom.

An ordinary job, for example, being a clerk in a store, can be challenging, but does not take much except perseverance. He can go home in the evening and detach himself from the next day’s challenges of dealing with peers, customers, promotions, and maybe looking for another job. Law enforcement, on the other hand, is not just a job. It is a twenty-four hour a day responsibility. One does not just go home in the evening and be done with it until the next day: after a while things turn around. An ordinary person has a life, and, "oh by the way", he has a job. A law enforcement officer out on the streets has his profession, and, "oh by the way", he may have a life, but don’t count on it. He tries, but it often fails.

Empathy with or intense dislike of the subjects comes up repeatedly. It becomes very difficult to continue being subjective and be able to make quick decisions between victim and perpetrator especially when they are indistinguishable. Trusting subjects can and will be the cause of lives lost. Empathy misplaced takes its toll. It is difficult not to become jaded, but empathy not given also haunts us. I remember incidents when I could have trusted …

Some Women

2010-01-13T17:44:00.000-08:00

I have been reading comments on a blog, and made some replies to the original posting. There is a person who appears to be female who has also commented. As usual, we, the readers make good-natured responses based on the posting and also on comments made by readers. Sometimes readers take offense, and we end up in verbal free-for-all unless the owner of the blog or one of us calls an end.

This time I ended up responding to one commenter who said,

“As soon as a male needs training, he's already out of my book.
As soon as a male claims he wants to be trained, he's trying to top from the bottom
As soon as a woman believes a male needs training, she's wasting her time.
As soon as a female wants to train a male, she's not a femdom in my book.
And then, “Why should i care if a sub (as u call them), wants to please me or not? I crave danger.“”

My comment to her was, “You are destined to be one lonely woman.”

Well, the stuff hit the fan at that point, and she became offensive. After I reflected on the events I posted a comment in an attempt to defuse the situation, “I meant no offense. Let’s just get over it.” Those were not exactly my words, but I don’t want to get too sappy in showing all. After my comment was posted she made more snide remarks of no discernible value. Seeing her response I decided to remove my comment Her response to the removal was, "…removed his ‘peace offer’. Well, how about that! Males. U can't trust them, hehehe.”

At this point I will say this: As much as I love women, I have my limits. When I wrote my “peace offer” I thought that she had some redeeming qualities, and she and I could come to a reasonable relationship of somewhat opposing views. Silly me. No redeeming qualities there. Aside from her grammatically challenged writing and virulent opinion, such as,

“I'm not monogamous.
I'm not married, never will be, nor am i interested in married men.
Few males turn me on. Genuine slaves do.
I share my home with 4 other women, and have sex with all of them.
I believe that men who cheat on their women, should be put up for castration.
The concept of superiority/inferiority was removed from my life a long time ago, and is alien to me.
Femdom shouldn't find its roots in patriarchal cultures, or be based on male fantasies.
The assumption u could, for whatever reason, eat me for breakfast, could leave u with a major food poisoning.“

I think that she will indeed end up as a very lonely woman. She imparts no love or care, and expects explicit slaves. As I said to another such woman, “good luck”. It may work for a while, but wait until you run out of funds, youth, and stupid slaves.

I don’t think she has enough to give for someone to care. The one-dimensional male that she wants in her life is like a slice through reality: there is nothing there. She will wish that she had had the wisdom to give some all along. But by then it will be too late.

Female Superior Position

2010-01-02T06:31:00.000-08:00

God, I love to serve a woman. In my case it is my wife. She is a deserving person of my love, admiration, and servitude. I also love to serve other women. I love them just because they are female, and feel protective and supportive toward them. I also have the hots for them, but that is not to be satisfied. At the same time I admit that my devotion to females is not universal. Each such person must be worthy of my attention. That is what separates me from wimps, would-be-slaves, and useless creatures who claim to be sub human.

There is a blog by John. He posts provocative ideas. We don't know whether he is in his seventies with a fertile imagination and no cock, or a young man who has no real personality. His blog is all based on rhetoric without evidence of reality. I have been following it, and tried to remain supportive, but it has been a challenge. In the last one Female Superior Position he asks questions, such as, “Who should be on top, and whether a submissive male should be allowed intercourse.” Ok, they are just questions, so I should not get riled. But even questions can be inappropriate. It is his blog, and there were many people responding including me. But that is the reason for my post this time. By his questions he drew people into a discussion that is so broad that any of the specific topics could not be covered in satisfaction: responses ranged from here to infinity.

My assessment of his blog is that he is a frustrated male in his forties who has no access to what he really needs: a strong woman to whip his ass. He advocates female supremacy, which is the opposite of male supremacy. If I interpret his writing correctly, he is willing to submit to anything as long as it is female. By his assumption a female cannot be wrong, misguided, stupid, idiotic, or psychotic. Therefore, females should be in charge of everything, and males should be serving all who need serving. Males should be subjugated, mistreated, kept in mental and physical bondage by all females.

If you have read my posts, you will understand that I have a real problem with this interpretation. I have gone through wars and revolutions to depose tyranny. Female supremacy is tyranny, just as male supremacy is. In a fantasy world one can submit to slavery, but we are in a real world, and slavery is not one to prescribe to all of us by some schmuck who thinks it is cool. I will say again, female supremacy is as bad as male supremacy.

A person, regardless of gender, should rise to his intellectual level in life. He should not be prevented from excelling in any field that is constructive and helpful to the species. I may have prejudices based on experience, but I truly believe in allowing the member of any race or gender to attain what they are capable of attaining. If they succeed, fine. If they fail, hey, they are just like the rest of us.

This idea of supremacy based on being female is just crap. It is created in the fertile imagination of some who like to rattle our chains but have nothing to offer. I am a firm supporter of women’s rights. The whole idea should not be an issue. Women are human, and must have human rights no less, and no more than men have. As for who is in charge, let the best person be.

When it comes to partners in life, anything goes as long as you don’t try to impose your silly rules on others. I might like your lifestyle, and would try to copy it, but I don’t feel compelled to follow it.

She Remembered Me

2009-12-30T06:19:00.000-08:00

For a couple of days now she has been hinting that I should be rewarded for my good service. I usually don’t say anything because I don’t want to agree or disagree with her. She can decide on her own.

Yesterday afternoon she sent me to town to buy some grass-fed no-hormone ground beef for her barbecued hamburger. I went out, and braved the damned winter visitors in the isles of the store, in the parking lots, and on the highway. After returning I took care of some chores, did another bout of weight lifting, and then settled down to do some writing. As the evening progressed she let me know that the hamburger was ready to be torched. I dropped everything (my stuff, that is) and lit up the barbecue. With our canine beasts helping me I was done with the meat in about half an hour. By then she had all else prepared for the feast. We had an enjoyable meal. After that I cleaned up the dishes, trash, etc., and went back to my writing.

She summoned me to the bedroom where she was laying out some ropes that were already attached to the four corners our playground. She told me to shower. I did, and then shaved. When I came out of the bathroom she pointed to the bed where I should lie down. Not being too dense I figured that she wanted me on my back. I complied. She proceeded to attach ropes to my extremities, and then pulled one of her sexy panties over my head that obscured my vision. She dropped a CD into the player, and left.

The music playing was one of our favorites, so for a while I lay there enjoying it. The problem began when I had a hint of a sinful thought, and my Little Guy did his thing. Sort of like in the crappy old TV show, The Incredible Hulk. The only difference here was that, whereas the Hulk would split out of his clothes due to the increase of size, the Little Guy tried, but was unable to do so. That evil Kali’s Teeth Bracelet that MW had me put on that morning was unyielding. The consequence was a lot of bulging of cock on both sides of the rows of shark teeth. At first I became aware of the slight pain. As time progressed, maybe an hour into the session the CD expired. I hoped that MW would come and rescue us.

She came, replaced the CD with another favorite, and then left. And so began my second hour of torture. I tried every thought to help diminish the bulges around the device. None worked. For the next hour I dealt with the pain. In a way it did get my mind off being cold, thirsty, and needing to go to the bathroom. The pain was the center of my attention.

I was counting the tracks as they played. Toward the end of the CD’s repertoire MW returned. Upon my hearing her steps I pleaded wit her to release The Big Guy. Using some cutting instruments she managed to release him while causing more pain with the process. I had so much pain in the area that I could not tell when the bracelet was off. It was only after she began to massage the Big Guy with some lotion that I realized the freedom given to us. My thinking quickly adapted from pain to pleasure, then back again when she applied tight clamps to my tits. Actually, I wished she would do so even before it happened. My tits are part of my pleasure-pain mechanism that works on my mind.

She continued with the Big Guy and I wished that she would sit on my face. I guess she did not want to overwhelm me with pleasure, so my lips remained unoccupied. After that it did not take long for me to blow my stuff all over my chest. She did not say anything, but released my hands and ankles one by one. She left me lying on my back.

“I assume that you are done with me?” I said after a while.

“What do you think?” she answered. “You may want to shower.”

I did. The hot water on my poor abused cock was painful. In a way it was another gift from her. By the time I returned she had a tray of tea, cake, and fruit for me. Isn’t she great?

Idiots Are Still In Charge

2009-12-29T16:46:00.000-08:00

If you fly commercial airlines you can feel safe because everybody is thoroughly checked before boarding a flight. That includes the pilot, copilot, and little old broads in wheelchairs to make sure that they don’t carry bazookas between their legs, etc.

Of course, that does not cover the real danger. The maniac in this case was allowed to board a flight even though he fit the exact profile of a would be terrorist: young male, features shared with all know terrorists so far (Arabic or Middle Eastern), carrying no luggage, buying a one-way ticket with cash, encased in explosive underwear. Oh yeah, there were other things known about him, but in order to be politically correct, nothing was done.

The head of the US Homeland Insecurity is Janet Napolitano. She dumped the Arizona governorship to accept this position offered by Obama. In a statement to CNN referring to this incident she said, "… the system worked." Can anyone tell me what part of what system worked?

Napolitano is in charge, but she is either a puppet or an idiot. We should fire her and the whole bunch that she oversees and contract homeland security to somebody like Blackwater. We would save what we now waste on salaries of bureaucrats and the workers who are, by policy, not allowed to act with common sense. We would not be violated every time we fly, and they would catch the murdering bastards before they board a plane. Of course, our current administration would try the would-be terrorists in civilian courts and let them off on technicalities, but at least the fanatics would be out of business in the mean time. It seems that we have more to fear from our politicians and appointed bureaucrats who make this policy than from the fanatics who want to kill us.

Unforgiven

2009-12-25T17:22:00.000-08:00

The Gift That Is Not Given

Some of you continue living in Neverland. For the nonce it is good. You can convince yourselves that it is real and that it will never change. She has taken charge of your sexual needs and does or does not do what you really want. You keep going serving her while you get some bits of gratitude here and there, and you are happy with it. I have been there. For all I know, I am still there. But there is a problem that is not part of the sexual gratification of a female led relationship. It has to do with deeper commitments and pseudo-obligations.

I grew up loving Christmas. It is a Christian made holiday, and I have no problem with it. The way my family approached it while I was a child was benign. If we had the resources, we gave presents to one another. When resources were scarce we rejoiced in the spirit, and not blamed would-be gift givers.

As my children grew in a slightly different venue, expectations were different. A gift was expected. If not given or received, the would-be giver was in deep shit. That is me.

Now it is years later, and my children don’t expect much from me in the way of things for gifts. But my wife does.

I am not a fucking saint. I don’t claim to be the best husband or the only virile and most ardent lover to MW. Well, I am the only one, as it turns out, but still, I try not to take unearned credit. The thing is, I persevere. I am there for her at all times. I do things for her even when she does not ask. It is my nature to be kind to her and to give her all that she wants and needs. I seldom fail. Even when I am ill I provide her needs. I have never denied her anything that was within my power. Even when I am tired I give her comfort. I always give her love. That is not sex, although I would never withhold sex from her. It is love and kindness. I feel the same about our children and their significant others. I don’t judge their behavior, and I don’t hold a grudge when they do something shitty. I may not like it, but I get over it.

Then there are these holidays when I am expected to give a gift. In our opulent society it is difficult to find a gift that is meaningful. Electronic gadgets are no longer appreciated since they are generally up our assess already. Clothing is a no-gift item, since that too, is so plentiful that one more tee shirt with a message will end up in the charity items the next day. Food is not a gift item anyway, since it is plentiful and wasted already. So I try to think of something that is personal, from me to her, and not one thing that anyone could give her but me. Well, I have had many of those. The problem is that these gifts I have been giving all along during the rest of the year, and come Christmas time, one more just does not count. After all, having given hundreds of such gifts, one more is just un-noticeable, down in the mud. Maybe a diamond would be noticed, but then, I cannot afford one, so here I am. What to give her?

And so goes Christmas, and so I am in deep shit. I still do my thing in serving her, but that is of no importance. It’s the gift that I did not give that counts. The days will go on, and I will keep giving. But the gift that I did not give will be unforgiven. I am tired. I am ready to do away with this kind of Christmas.

A Remarkable Ass

2009-12-23T13:37:00.000-08:00

My ass is remarkable. Not that I can actually look at it directly and say in appreciation, “Now, that’s remarkable!” Far from it. For one thing, my neck and head don’t swivel that far. Looking in the mirror is a poor substitute. I have never seen my ass the way another person could. I am not suggesting that I would be turned on by watching my own ass that way. Well, maybe, on the occasions when nothing or nobody is planning to use it I could get enough of an incentive to do some well deserved self-gratification on the other side. But that is not as satisfying as being involved by another who has a need to satisfy, and she knows that I can provide that need. Whoa! This is what gets me going.

MW has a kinky way of looking at my ass. If the said ass does not have a recent pattern of her appreciation, it should; therefore, she wants to make it look proper. This is not the so-called over the knee punishment. This is not recurring discipline that “a man needs”. This is her artistic need to impart patterns onto my vulnerable lily-white cheeks to satisfy her creative needs. My ass must look like it belongs to her, and the best way is for her to do that is to leave her mark.

She has done some carving leaving her permanent mark. It is barely discernible after the several years, but it still shows up during temperature changes. She has tattooed to a very small extent, and it too, is noticeable if you look closely. She has not given up on permanent marks yet. However, her most notable contributions are the ones that linger for a while, and then need to be remarked usually via canes, whips, paddles, etc.

I have posted a number of such occasions. While I receive the marking, it hurts. At that moment I would want it to stop hurting. When it is over, I would not change it for anything. It is a gift from MW, very personal, and somewhat lasting. Some days or weeks later, they are to be renewed for her satisfaction. Her satisfaction is my joy.