On the submissive female…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Gift from Mistress Wife

Late in the evening we finished watching a movie. I don’t think that we were doing or talking about anything sex connected, but we were relaxed. It was a convenient occasion to visit the bathroom. She went one way, I the other. I took care of some other business before returning to the bedroom a few minutes later.

She was lying across the bed at a diagonal. Her legs spread, with her feet closest to me, all I needed to do to kiss her buns was to lean over her. I did. I buried my face in her wonderfully padded cheeks and snuggled with them for a minute. Not wanting to overstay my welcome I reluctantly pulled away and did a few casual fingernail tracings across her back. She reacted like an appreciative cat (that may be an oxymoron). She wiggled, and practically purred.

Encouraged by her obvious pleasure I moved onto the bed next to her, and did more of these, what we call, fingernail massages. I ranged over her outstretched arms, and drew circles on her back. Slowly I moved down to her buns, and made sure that they had their share of the pleasure. With loose fingers I returned to her back for some kneading. Then I massaged her arms one at a time. While doing so I began to eyeball her legs as my next target.

The backs of her thighs have that lovely smooth white skin that just beg kissing and licking. The same place is also the hardest part of her. I guess there is less fat on a woman’s body over the back of the thigh. With the way her legs were stretched, I massaged her strong muscles beneath my fingers. I stayed with these lovely muscles a bit before my fingers began to be tempted by her softer inner thighs. I could not help but spend several minutes on each before moving down to her perfectly shaped calves. I worked with them only a short time, because she already had her usual evening foot and leg massage earlier. After some more fingernail massage of her legs she turned over onto her back.

This move opened an entirely new playground for me. I repeated my various fingernail moves on her front while carefully staying away from her hardening nipples. I would love to kiss, suck, nibble, and gently pinch them, but she would punch me out if I tried. Her girls are very sensitive, and only on rare occasions while I am pleasuring her with my tongue will she allow me, even encourage me, to actually pinch them. As I approached the center of my being I moved my face a bit closer than my massage warranted just to be able to inhale her feminine scent. She knew what I was doing, and encouraged it by spreading her legs.

I gave up on the massage and began to make love to her inner thighs. They have the smoothest and softest skin on her entire body. I could spend a lifetime kissing them. Her aroma was enchanting. It drew me irresistibly to my center of being. I did a few tentative licks of her lips while observing her reaction. It was to make sure that I was not intruding. She showed ease and contentment, so I did some bolder moves going deeper between her lips. My tongue is highly educated, and with its advanced degree I am usually able to give MW much of what she wants. Of course, I never really know what is on her mind, but one or more shattering orgasms are usually a good indicator of at least partial satisfaction. She pushed away my eager tongue after the first while she caught her breath. After a few seconds I approached again tentatively to see whether she was ready to continue. She was. We gave her clit another round of pleasure before I was again pushed away.

It appeared that she was finished with me. I asked whether I should leave her alone with the girls so that she could complete her pleasure. She declined, but told me to fetch a towel to wipe our shared juices from her. I did, but left all that lovely juice on my face just to extend my enjoyment of being so close to her. I could live with this.

It Is Over

The holidays are over. This is when people become depressed, hate to go back to work, commit suicide, etc. I feel a little on the down side about the formerly constant high offered by the sequence of holidays, offers of parties, shopping, drinking. But in a good way.

I am savoring the aroma of what I had just experienced. Earlier this morning I ran across a posting where a fellow blogger asked, and I must paraphrase, for I did not save the link (I apologize, I will try to find it),

“Is there anything in life better than the aroma of a really turned on female?”

My response was, “No,” and that I would follow her like a good little puppy.” Which is where I am.

As a side note, she told me to remove the CB2000 last night so that I could give the little guy a good cleaning. The cage is still off. For the time being.

She summoned me in the morning as usual. We had our coffee, cuddling, and talk of getting out of bed for breakfast and such. Then she made a comment about my little guy doing this and that. I took that as a challenge. Not in the sense of taking over, but more like “Oh yeah, let me show you what He can do …” She did actually challenge us, so I got away with it. The first thing that gave me a hint was when she parted her thighs and allowed me to slide between them. Aside from being every man’s dream, it was a boost to him. You know, the little guy who at this time had already gone through the requisite transformation.

I am so silly, I thought that I was invited to go along.

As I sit here writing I still enjoy her scent on my face. You just had to be there!

Well, actually the little guy and I are attached, and from time to time, when he is mistreated, (and I appreciate it) I feel his pain. This time he was very well treated. First class accommodations between a pair of lips that lead to my center of being. I was devastated. I did not expect it. I did not believe my good luck. I went with it and enjoyed it to the hilt.

She paid attention to me too. She took both of my tits in hand, and mistreated them to the extent where I could have squirted all over the neighborhood just from that. As it turns out, she allowed me to squirt into more private space. During this time she was telling me about what I would be allowed to do when this is done. Things such as giving her what is due her, and that I may end up on my back while this is happening. Please don’t think that this deterred me from doing what came naturally.

If anyone were to ask me about the scale, I would say that it was the most intense orgasm that I have ever experienced.

Yeah, I suppose that I would say that every time. But this was different, which may be why I remained so horny afterward. I can never tell whether she is having the “big O” during this time, but it just seemed like either she was, or she was ready for me to flip and give it to her. I asked her explicitly whether I should turn around and continue.

Oh my! She said that I should! I did. Can you guess what I did next?

I still savor her aroma . I may never wash my face again.

Unless you have a preference for this sort of thing, you can’t really put yourself in my place. Ok, some of you over-sexed people may want to do so, but I meant it in a hypothetical way. Really. There is nothing better in my life, even though I am willing to experience this and more. She did not follow through with her promise of “turning over and riding my face”. In a tiny way I was a bit thankful, although now I wished to have had the experience.

I have yet to ask her how many “O”s she had so that I can post it on my blog. I have no regrets, nothing that I would change, and it was a most wonderful experience with MW. No, wait, I do have one regret: she may be a bit reluctant to continue this sexy relationship for the nonce. You know, some people need to take a short break between orgasms. Imagine that.

Please see her comment today at http://www.mistressusan.blogspot.com/

Mistress Wife Is At Home

The events I relate here took place on November 3, 2007

How can I say this otherwise? Her presence is everywhere. Her scent is in my nostrils and my mind. Her taking charge of me grabs me by the balls (mostly in a figurative way but sometimes ...).

I let her sleep late in the morning because of the hardships that she endured, and our going to sleep later than usual. So, it was after sunrise that I awakened her for our morning coffee. The process could be anything, but this morning it was just a few warm kisses and nibbles of her buns and serious sniffing around her most lovely private parts. She was ready. I served coffee on the front deck. Yes, the sun was up, but it still had to rise over the mountain range to the east, so we had not missed much. As we sipped coffee she debriefed of her most recent visit with relatives. She talked; I listened, and asked relevant and leading questions. She began to be agitated, and then relax. Overall, it was a relaxing time for us.

Later she re-attached herself to her computer to catch up on her various email accounts and websites. When she does that, she likes to have a constant supply of ice water to drink. I am the man who provides that for her. Since I have chores around the house, and the repair project going on, I would not be next to her to fetch her drink or anything that she needs. She thought that it was a good idea to instsall the signaling device on my person so that she can fetch me any time she needs something.

The signaling device is a simple electronic dog-training item straight out of the catalog. It was designed for a medium size dog to fit around its neck. When the trainer pushes the button on the controller, the dog gets a shock. The intensity of the shock can be set on ten levels. The shock can not be continuous; it must be done with pauses between presses of the shock button. Level one is most often not felt by me. Level ten is intense, and we seldom use it. The remote controller has a range sufficient to cover our house and yard. The only modification that I made was to remove the nylon-webbing dog collar, and replace it with a short ¾-inch leather belt. The belt can be put around my cock and balls, or just around my balls, depending on what else may be there or what MW desires. After testing it, I can be anywhere on the property and be summoned by the simple push of a button. Of course, from time to time, I may need to explain my sudden dropping of whatever I am holding, and the accompanying noisy outburst. In any case, I usually hasten to where I think MW is so that she will not repeat the summons at a higher level for thinking that I did not feel it the first time. Sometimes it takes a while to find her, and I get another jolt. Generally it works very well. Here is what it looks like:

She chose to have me wear the CB2000 also just to remind me of her. The two don’t get into each other’s way. I get to remove the signaling device while I am using the bathroom for anything. That is to keep it relatively clean and out of moisture. I do wipe it off often with an alcohol soaked towel. The CB is no problem, since the shower with a spray attachment gives it a thorough cleaning.

After finishing my morning chores I went upstairs to continue the deck repair project. She called me a couple of times during the morning to refill her ice water, etc. I know that some men would resent their important work interrupted just to come downstairs to reset the router when her internet connection goes away. I don’t mind. I am thrilled to do it for her, knowing that she uses me for her pleasure at all times. It is what I want and enjoy doing.

She had made a date to go out with our daughter who lives about a half-hour drive down the valley. Today was the day to do that. Later in the morning she began to put on makeup and dress. I was up on the deck working when I heard the fire alarm downstairs. I dropped what I was doing and walked down quickly, rather expecting a false alarm. Sure enough, the bedroom alarm was objecting again to the fumes from her cosmetics. I turned off the stupid and offending device and went back to work. Later, she asked me to drop her off at the meeting place. I then removed the signaling device, showered, and drove her to the place.

It is now a day and a half later and I still have the CB on. I will talk about this in a later posting.