Sexless Marriage

My inspiration for this pontification comes from “whatevershesays” at http://shestheboss.blogspot.com/. He posted one titled, “Sexless Isn’t Loveless”.

The thing that got my juices going was his saying, “I am a lucky guy and I don't think I could look my kids in the eye and say that I'm divorcing their mom, blowing up their lives, because she doesn't screw me enough.”

He is right as far as I am concerned. He shows maturity and ability to be responsible for his actions. Many failed marriages are because of the people involved are immature, and expect too much.

That brings me to the idea that prompted this posting. I remember how enamored I was with my girlfriend. She could not do anything wrong. She was beautiful, virginal, and deserving of all the good I could do for her. After we married, we practically ate each other in our attempt at taking and giving pleasure. It took a while for the sexual addiction to each other to vane to the point where we could go through a day without one of us orgasming.

I will not get into the details here, just take a shortcut to where I was heading. A disclaimer again: I am excluding psychotic and abusive relationships here. In either case there is a good reason for divorce, regardless of the baggage that needs to be handled. I am addressing only the relatively normal situations, which are complex enough already.

“Why is it that two people seem perfectly matched sexually at the beginning, then later on they become virtual sexual strangers?” I seldom hear complaints from a woman along these lines. It is mostly from men: they no longer get enough sex.

What changed?

Was she faking it at the beginning and now she is tired of doing so?

Has he changed into some useless schmuck who does not deserve her sex?

Does familiarity cause loss of interest and desire?

I am sure it is not a matter of aging, for either partner may be willing to get into a new relationship with all the sex, given ideal circumstances. So, why is it that the man (or the woman) does not get enough sex any more?

Excluding physiological and phsychological difficulties, so-called normal people experience these problems. Experimenting with sexual and relational deviations (for example, D/S, FLR, cuckolding, swinging, etc.) may enhance their enjoyment to approach what their sex was at the beginning. But even that winds down at some point.

That leaves two people in a relationship facing serious problems. Marriage, children, property in common, and caring relatives are to be considered. Whatever the reason for unsatisfactory sex, these issues don’t go away. Immature and irresponsible people will divorce and tend to repeat the past. Others face their responsibilites and get by on love, caring, familiarity, and occasional sex. But the satisfaction is missing.

Why?

Cybernetic FLR

MW and I do have an amount of affirmation of FLR as an ongoing thing. The problem is that intelligent beings are cybernetic. That means goal oriented. Being goal oriented carries an associated burden. We are not satisfied with leaving things alone. Continuing improvement is the goal of the day, any day. Status quo is for the dead or dying. If the man got his ass whipped on Monday, and the pain and bruises have left by Wednesday, he needs to do something about it. Either up the intensity or the count, so that the results in turn would persist until Thursday, and so on.

I am not really trying to solve problems through corporal punishment, although it has been know to work. I use it simply as an illustration of my point. Many men in FLR complain, or at least, feel slighted, when the woman does not continue to remain in charge in blatantly obvious ways. In their assessment, that is not even status quo, but straying off course. This is of course, contrary to cybernetics, and to their expectations. Taking the woman’s point of view is less demanding: “He is already goal oriented, so why should I do anything?”

Well, for one thing, even well oiled machinery needs to be maintained and tested periodically. A submissive man needs both of what a responsible person would allocate to machinery: maintenance and testing. But he is more than machine. He has balls and cock. And … oh yes, a brain. He is not all hormone-driven. Some of it is truly wired into his being.

It is known and accepted, that females during their reproductive years are influenced by hormones periodically to the extent that hormones affect their behavior. That is good. Males, on the other hand, are also influenced by hormones during their reproductive years, but that is bad. The reason it is bad, is because it is perceived bad, as in “Horny bastard who has nothing but fornication on his mind.”

That may be true in some cases, but I ask you, “Is it that a male is trying to be just a horny bastard for his own gratification? Could it be, that he is still primal to the point where being horny is in the behalf of maintaining the human race, and he is only doing his duty?” Just think of the females of the great apes in estrus. Do the males fornicate for the sake of fornication, or do they follow the scent and sight of the female in estrus because they have no choice? Maybe humans should have transcended the primal needs. Then again, maybe not. After all, what would be the point of living if at the end we all died because we did not act on our primal needs? So some of us at least should remain horny and attempt to procreate. So much for the rabid feminist view of having no use for males. Maybe some day, but not today. Today we need males to attempt to procreate just to maintain the species.

What I mean is, “Give us a fucking break!”

Yes, I know, there are assholes out there. But true assholes are non-gender-specific. As far as I know, all mammals have assholes, whether male or female. Male assholes tend to be more in your face. Yuck! But it is just as bad encountering a female asshole. Actually, it is worse, because we don’t expect it. At least, I don’t, since I put females on a pedestal, and it is a terrible blow when they don’t belong. Damn! That should not happen. Females are supposed to be nice. You know, like “sugar and spice …”

I have had my share of dealing with male and female assholes while on duty for the county. I would say, it was about 60/40, 60 being male. So we can assume that in an FLR 60 percent of the assholes are males. Be careful not to interpret this incorrectly as 60 percent of males in an FLR are assholes. I did not say that!

If you are female and are tired of hearing males in an FLR bitching, try to lighten up a bit. Based on my assumptions we are generally horny, and cybernetic, so it is not easy to keep silent when the partners don’t follow the plan.

I don’t complain to MW because she would resent it, and the complaint would not result in anything positive. The problem is that if I don’t complain, then she assumes that all is right as rain, and she needs not change a thing. This leaves me with a dilemma.

Being somewhat understanding of human nature, I have my ways to convey my message once in a while without resorting to complaints. I almost never get my way with her, but then, it is not my way but her way that is supposed to be paramount, so it works out all right. She is aware of all of my kinks, needs, and desires, so there is no need for me to “have a talk with her”. If she fails to give me any or all that, I don’t like it, but we both know that it is her choice. On the long run she does many wonderful things for me, not necessarily of sensual or sexual nature. We miss each other terribly when she goes on a trip without me or vice versa. Meanwhile I take what she gives me, and I serve her as well as I can.

I could do more, but I am not a fanatic about it, and she knows it. It is seldom that she needs to prompt me to do anything. Ours is not the ideal (fantasy) FLR, just one that works for both of us. I wish for more control by her, but then I am also cybernetic and horny.

Oh, The Pain Of It

Those of us, who are even in the slightest way into BDSM, know that there is a difference between how or why one experiences pain. I have not heard or read from anyone who for example, enjoys a toothache, headache, stubbed toe, or a broken leg. Maybe I am just not enough of a connoisseur. Who knows?

Then there is that other kind of pain that ranges from the effect of a pat on a bare bottom to whole body ache from being suspended while receiving vigorous caning, whipping, and other forms of S/M fallout (not that I would have first-hand knowledge of such).

Why is there a difference? Anyone care to comment? Is it just the context, or are there “pleasurable” pain receptors that kick in only when the mind says to kick in?

I fall into what I would call mild S/M range, of course, the degree is always in the eye (or the butt) of the beholder, so who am I to judge? I could be this or that depending on what is available when it comes to imparting love pain.

I found out early in my marriage to MW that she is definitely not a natural submissive. She does not like or want pain, and has an aversion to any device whose impact is to her soft parts in order to get her attention. That pretty much excluded her being on the receiving end of any session with me holding the crop. The closest we ever came to it were a few times when I very gently slapped her lovely butt with my palm. She even commented that it “felt good” but that I should not assume anything. Then there was one time when we were fooling around with me on top. I manipulated her arms above her head, and grabbed her wrists in one hand while I used my other hand to part her nether lips and we had very penetrating, very quick, very satisfying sex as I held her wrists. It was sort of pretend but I am not really certain. Anyway, I felt that she might have a potential if I were to approach her gently. Months later the event came up in conversation, and she said something like, “I faked it.” As you can expect, that blew my smug assumption that I could ever dominate her that way. Oh well, back to my being the submissive with her.

I have always assumed that being the dominant in a partnership is the more responsible, harder working, less satisfying, more stressful part. As a dominant you have to plan. You have to make sure that nothing bad happens and that everything that needs doing gets done whether mundane bill paying or kinky sex games are concerned. As a dominant you are in charge and your sub looks up to you, so you must maintain a certain attitude of being in charge, knowing all the answers, and never losing your composure.

Contrast this with the submissive partner’s position. He (or she) needs to be respectful and compliant. He may expect to be disciplined or punished for misdeeds and transgressions. He may have times of deathly boredom and excruciating highs. But he needs to make few important decisions. His life is managed by a stronger person.

I could go on with this, but we all know that it is futile. This relationship can have a range from the very simple to the most stylized: “Different strokes for different folks.” The details are to be negotiated. If not, then break it up!

I would like to point out that I don’t really like pain, not even in jest. So, in some of my submissive episodes it is a definite deterrent to bad behavior. For example, if she says, “Don’t do this …” I don’t do this. At least not on purpose, because I know that my ass could, and did a number of times, hurt as a result. I will take a side road here to point out something before I get back to our relationship.

I ran across a blog, whose address I no longer have, but it was done by a dominant female. Her attitude to discipline or punishment was summed up in, and I paraphrase,

"Why should one adult force another adult to behave a certain way? If I had to punish him, then I am not really a dominant but a bully. I prefer to allow him to serve me on his own just because he wants to.”

I agree with all that, but at the same time I think that she misses the point 100 percent. Some of us want to be punished, want to be hurt, need the pain, and if you must be a bully to accomplish that, then so be it. As I said, being the dominant is the harder part.

In a BDSM relationship or scenario nobody is forcing anybody before they agree to do it. This is assumed to be consensual, and it implies that even after the scene starts, either partner is allowed to stop it. But once into the scene, there are some expectations on both sides. It is not all vanilla pats on the bum, but is expected to have some impact or such to spice it up. So if anyone complains, they are in the wrong relationship. The subject of disciplining or punishing of another adult is expected by both parties. The only things that are negotiable are the degree and the context, which vary among relationships.

Now that I have established the right to discipline or be disciplined, let’s get on with it. In many of my wishes of sex play between us I imagined that she would like to whip me with an instrument of her choice as a way to build herself to a state where she would then allow me to serve her in all oral and penetrating ways to give her pleasure. Anyone can see that this is my fantasy and not really considering her needs. It is the payment for my suffering. Nevertheless, it is my fantasy and I have a right to think anything I want. The bottom line here is that I wish that she would get off giving me erotic pain. I have yet to find out whether this is true, but am willing to experiment!

Once in a while I do something by mission or omission that she considers a cause for discipline or punishment. As a note, I consider “discipline” as a corrective measure, and “punishment” as a means to absolve one’s guilt. In either case, it is understood that she has the right to impart this at any time under any circumstances, and that I will take it without resistance and without complaint. I also have a right to state my opinion of it after the session is over. Whether I was right or wrong I cannot expect, although I may receive, anything from her as a result of her decision. The deed is done, and we go from there.

I really like this approach for several reasons. The most important is that it is a way to resolve any dispute without needing an arbitrator and without leaving loose ends. In an FLR, she decides the outcome, and I will comply before or after being corrected as such.

There are other reasons why this works, but I will address those at some other time. The “bottom line” is that my bottom hurts and that gets my attention. It also tends to change my attitude for a while. Sure I could argue, I could over-power her, I could quit the FLR. But that would be contrary to all that an FLR is about, and we are in it by choice.

Just Love

We lay in bed after having watched a movie. One of us mentioned “cuddling”. It has been a while. The activity associated with that is just pure love and lust. Feeling each other to any extent, not being compelled to produce anything. Enjoying the senses to whatever extent we can, and maybe drift off to sleep. It is a safe place with a loved one that should exist eternal.

She began to pull my wedding ring off the little guy. That set me on edge a bit since the ring is tight, and there is the PA ring on the tip, which needs to be delicately slipped through the silver ring. I took over the effort, and removed the silver ring. Of course, the PA ring remained in place.

She pulled me over her onto her. Her action must have been like the science fiction exoskeleton machinery in Alien: with a slight twist of any of her muscle I complied. I was on top, and she guided me inside her. That alone being a mind-blowing experience, she began to pinch my tits, my on/off switches, to her satisfaction. In the past I would have blown my stack then and there.

I guess I have sort of lost practice. I was turned on to the point where I could just die. Yet, in spite of the help she gave, and the joy of penetrating sex with her, I could not get it off. Yes, I maintained a tremendous erection, reminiscent of the mocking nightly ones, yet there I was, wishing to orgasm.

I usually don’t do the “hump and pump at high speed”. We both love it gently and slowly with feeling. But this time even that did not produce the desired effect. The little guy hung in there, but he just did not allow me to be included in his pleasure. I withdrew to avoid irritating her.

Maybe she will allow me again real soon.

Screaming Dominance

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In Lieu Of Tribute ...

I have strong feelings for the meaning of Memorial Day. I should have said something earlier. Belatedly, here it is.

Once in a lifetime we are given an opportunity to give someone his or her due. Through no fault of mine I was in such position some years back. A person whom we knew died, and someone needed to give a few words on the occasion.

I was in the armed forces, a missile artillery outfit in the far-east. Our company did not have a chaplain. The company commander was sane and rational, but I would not have gone to him for psychological, spiritual, or sexual consultation. My platoon leader was a fine man, about my age. He and I spent some time over beers, but he was no wiser than I. The first sergeant of the company was an old bear whom nobody loved, including his mother, I am sure. With the fifty or so people in the outfit there was not anyone whom I would liken to the chaplain character on M*A*S*H.

I was a bit of a misfit due to my background. I came from unusual origin and had been educated more than my fellows. I also did not get drunk every night, and did not partake the local fauna.

Maybe it was this reason why people came to me for confession and consultation in lieu of a chaplain. At first I took it lightly, for I was not very wise myself. Later I realized that these people, including me, needed a spiritual leader from time to time. What bothered me was that I knew I was not qualified, yet they came to me nevertheless. Sometimes they left offerings like a cigar, a half-six-pack of beer or a bag of sunflower seeds. I did not want any offerings. Given my dubious qualifications I would have been willing to pay for some of the stories that they presented to me. But I began to take it seriously enough to at least not disclose it to others. Kind of like a confessional between priest and sinner, although the demarcation in this case was a bit fuzzy.

There was one sergeant who had a tendency to piss off anyone, including the company commander. I managed to stay out of his way, for I had my position that did not interact with him. However, one spring day we got some news over the telephone: "Sergeant XXX died while crossing a flooded river. He, his driver, and a number of local nationals were swept by the raging river into the deep waters. None survived."

Due to my imposed status I was called to deliver the equivalent of a eulogy before the company. My first inclination was to say nothing. I learned early in my life that if I can’t say anything good about a person, it is best to say nothing. But that was not an option.

This was many years ago, so I don’t remember exactly what I said upon the occasion. I know I dismissed the thought of saying “It could not have happened to a nicer guy.” I could say that over a beer with another soldier, but not in front of a group who expects something more spiritual regardless of their dislike for the recently deceased.

My assessment of what I said back then may have been similar to this:

“Sergeant XXX was generally disliked.

“In actuality, he appeared to be a despicable asshole. But that was just his attitude. I am sure he had some good qualities. He managed to hold down his job and avoid pissing off people to the extent of getting him killed. We must give him credit for that.

“I have tried to get close to him several times. He could not care less. I gave up after a while, and just nodded in his direction when we passed."

While saying these words I looked at faces and saw smiles and nods what I assumed were acknowledging similar experiences with the former asshole. I finished with this,

“I know that we did not make friends with him. I realize that he was not one to have for a friend, for he never seemed to trust anyone. I suspect that he lived a very lonely life as a result of that. While he was here, I, or many of you I assume, could not have cared less for his living or passing.

“But now that he is gone, I want to express my sincere feeling about him. The nationals who were in the vehicle with him were innocent of anything to do with him. They were victims of circumstances. He was simply giving them a ride from place to place. So, in the end, in spite of himself, he was trying to do a good deed. If there were a way to give him and the nationals a second chance, I would consider it.

"May they rest in peace."

I came away with some satisfaction that I did not do harm in this instance. My fellow soldiers did not say anything, but neither did they laugh or threaten me with bodily harm. The already grumpy first sergeant went back to his shit list, and the company commander looked at me for a few seconds while shaking his head, and left. My lieutenant joined me and suggested that we have some beer.

Why the hell not? We were off duty and after five in the evening. We got wasted.

Going On A Trip

I am going on a trip of two to four days. I will be driving alone. MW will be staying at home taking care of all furry critters and the homestead.

I have a choice of my own making. Here is my chance to use the little guy the way I can under the circumstances.

No, I don’t mean consorting with willing persons on the side. Just, you know, having some fun in the privacy of my accommodations. MW would not know the difference unless she asked.

Actually, I have done Master Bation before, and was willing and able, nay, even eager, to do all that she could accept from me afterward. So the thing is not really an issue that needs mitigation.

Still, I feel almost like the guy who goes out of town and fucks everything in sight. MW is not planning to lock me for the duration. I am not sure that I would want to be. It is not a matter of discomfort or loss of access to pleasure. It is more like being realistic. I drive on an interstate highway many hundreds of miles. Things can happen. Do I want to be found with a friggin’ cage and such around my formerly private parts?

Given all that, the idea of being locked until I return intrigues me. I guess, if some really bad things happen, some emergency technician finding my balls confined and really be disgusted (or turned on) won’t make a difference to me.

So, what do you advise? Should I go locked or free?

It Ain't Happenin'

I masturbate. The last time was ten days ago. Then I thought that I should not do it any more so that I would be ready for MW.

Well, she needed me four days ago, but my cock was not involved, if you know what I mean. I love oral sex, especially when I am doing it to her. I could live with that. Still, I miss the other things.

So, when I get over the feeling of obligation to be chaste I do my thing in the early morning hours when she sleeps. I do it three or four days apart, or as necessary. I would rather do it with her. I would rather have her helping me. I would rather have intense penetrating sex with her, whatever the means or methods. But, she has some problems, and then so do I as a result.

I know, there are other ways that we could have sex. She knows, since I have given her about as much information as she is willing to take on the subject. It makes no difference. So much for communication.

I think I will do it again in the morning. If I postpone, I may die of old age before getting any satisfaction.

Peasants In The Castle

I have a friend whose life and political views nearly coincide with mine. We agree on many things, and disagree on few. We share similar backgrounds, although mine is more recent. He used to be a journalist. He still writes, but he has given up working for monetary gain. He says, “People no longer want to hear the truth.” Even worse, he has given up his last forum, a website that he had maintained for some years. He still writes, but only to a limited audience. He lets me see all his literary production. With his permission I decided to share with you this piece from his autobiography.

In the eighth year of my life I was to spend the summer with my uncle and his family in a distant farm town. Upon my arrival at the railroad station a few miles from town, he met me. We walked along the dusty road mostly in silence since we really did not know each other. As we reached the edge of town I saw a building whose spires and steeply sloping roofs towered above the ancient trees around it. He noticed my interest. However, since I did not ask, he did not say anything.

He had a small farm that he worked with the help of his family. They were not prosperous, but did well under the circumstances. In addition to working the collective farm, my uncle was compelled to give a large percentage of his small farm’s produce in taxes. Once or twice a month he was also expected to provide the use of his horses to the community for general freight services. It was on such occasion that I rode into town with him and asked him about the mysterious building among the huge trees.

After we dropped off the horses we came to the place surrounded by wrought iron-on-stonewall fence. Just inside the fence were shrubs with deep green leaves, keeping a solid screen between where we were, and what might be on the other side. Past the shrubs huge trees obscured most of the building behind. As we walked along the weed-covered gravel road toward the building more of it became visible. Tall windows in the front, balconies, spires, and towers around graced the magnificent edifice. But many of the windows were broken or hanging askew.

A large clearing from the bordering trees offered the view of what was once a garden with low walls blending into the centerpiece of a fountain. The fountain was silent. Around the fountain was a once-stately stone walkway leading to a pool. Weeds and shrubs filled the cracks between the stones, lifting some above their neighbor. The granite and marble walls of the pool were mostly obscured by the trash that filled
it.

The doors leading to the front entrance of the castle used to be under a portcullis. Now they were both missing. We walked into a great hall. The marble floors were barely there, most pieces having been removed. The chandeliers were smashed or missing with bare wires and chains hanging from the domed ceiling. Doors to adjacent rooms were mere doorways. The kitchen was gutted. Some of the rooms showed signs of occupation by animals, and in some cases, humans.

I threw up my breakfast. Looking guiltily at my uncle I heard him say, “Don’t worry, the pigs will clean it up.” After I recovered we left. I asked him about the history of this place.

"A Baron owned the town and most of the land around it. He provided employment to any who was interested. His lands needed people skilled in farming and animal husbandry. The town supported the local needs, and tradesmen and merchants provided the skill and material. He built and supported a school for the children. Because the railroad ran several miles from town, the Baron spent his own money to build a narrow-gage railroad between the station and town. That made it possible to move freight and people regardless of the winter snows, or the summer mud. Local shops sold merchandise produced there, or brought in by train from nearby cities. Grain and livestock were hauled to the railroad station. Most people prospered, most were satisfied.

"But it appeared that some people were not satisfied. Some chose not to make a good living by working for wages. They said that it was not right that the landowners had all the riches and goods, while they had nothing.

"So, there was a revolution. Afterward those who owned anything of value were killed or sent away, so that their wealth could be given to the rightful owners. The merchants in town lost their shops to looting at first, and then to the local revolutionaries. The skilled farmers who used to work for the landowner while thriving on their own small farms were told to join a collective farm. They did, because the small farms they had were taken from them, and tossed into the collective pool. The revolutionaries insisted that now everybody owned everything, and were to share the proceeds equally. Nobody needed to starve. There were to be no more privileged people.

"The revolutionaries put their own people in charge to run the collective farm, and also the local collective industry to produce manufactured goods. The new people in charge knew nothing about what they were doing, so the output of the collective enterprises was dismal. At this point even the productive people were nearly starving.

"The narrow gage railroad was given to the people who should have owned it in the first place. Each town folk was allowed to take several pieces of rail with the attached ties. They did. The railroad became history. The rutted road between the station and town offered mud or snow depending on the season, to those who cared to walk or drive their horse cart. The local industry died, the merchants no longer existed. There was no more product to haul to the railroad station.

"The revolutionaries gave the castle to the rightful owners who subsequently moved in. Their pigs did their best to clean up the garbage, but they were not equipped to repair the roof or to replace the doors and windows that some used for firewood. When the new rightful owners complained to the revolutionaries they were killed. The castle was now vacant, beyond the ability of anyone to repair it.

"Things have changed some since that time, but nothing is as good as it was in the Baron’s time. Those of us who work have to work harder than before. There are still some who refuse to work.

"We are expected to be thankful to the revolutionaries for our liberation and distribution of the wealth of the Baron. In payment for this we have to share the product of our labor with them. They have the biggest houses, they live better, and they send their children to private schools. And just like us, they have their jobs for life."

Fella Tio

Some of you may have discerned from my writings that I am a fully functional heterosexual male. If you have, it means that you have paid attention. Here is something new: I would love to be the recipient of fellatio. But it is not about to happen.

I have had some girlfriends prior to meeting my wife, but they just were not into that sort of thing. Then she and I married, and my blow-job-affairs became fantasy from then on. She did actually do it twice in our early years. It must have been bad, for it did not occur again. I don’t know where we went wrong, if we did, but somehow MW just does not do that any more. It could be the flavor of the proceeds, and I would not hold it against her to refuse that. I have tasted it, and it is, shall we say, nasty. Of course, there are ways to get around that.

But I am not really referring to the typical pornographic image here. I am talking about making love. Who does what to whom is a matter of how much you want to give to your partner as a gift.
Buying an expensive piece of jewelry maybe self-gratifying, and may end up being appreciated by the recipient. But that is only money. Something actually done or produced by one for another is precious. Then there is an extreme. We have a life-long friend who does not get any sex from her husband other than getting to suck his cock. It’s not that she wants to do so. It is that, that is all he wants from her. I could never do that to a woman. Theirs is definitely not an FLR.

I know fellatio is not a “thing of FLR”, but neither are a lot of things that I do. We are not in the mindset of “female is superior, male is a piece of crap” thing, so that is not the reason for this situation. Yet, fellatio is missing from our lives. I know, I have advised others of talking about issues. I may be remiss, but I feel that if I were to bring up this subject with MW, it would be something that would cause problems, rather than to solve them. As you can see, our relationship is not perfect.

Now, if I were to bring up this subject, she could set me straight, as in “You may as well forget about a friggin’ blow-job. I don’t do that, and don’t ever bring it up again. Your job is to serve me in any way I want, and you take what I give or choose not to give.”

I could live with that, just that, she has not actually said that. So I am still uncertain about its future.

Be All who You Want To Be ... Maybe

Doing Dishonest Things Makes You Dishonest

I may have a suppressed memory from childhood that makes me almost paranoid about my pretending to be anyone other than what I am. I don’t remember. Then again, if I tucked a bit of nasty stuff under some other accumulating garbage in a seldom-used recess of my mind, I just might not remember because of that.

I have gone to school. I have never cheated. I have never cut a class. I think that all this was because of what my parents instilled in me: “Do your best, and enjoy the result. If you get what you want by dishonesty, you are a dishonest person when you get it.” The thing is, I had to work my balls off all of my life to get what I wanted, because I am not as smart as those of you who need not work that hard. Yet, my parents’ warning stayed with me. I will now get to the point of this pontification.

I was reading a post once, in which the writer said something about what he and his wife did, and then said that “We are not really that way.” I commented that, “If you do it, then you are really that way.” It is because we are what we do, not what we claim to do.

I have enjoyed reading a particular blog in which the writer likes to cross-dress. He also professes to be a submissive, and he demonstrates that by his postings. Married to a moderately dominant woman he does a lot of housework, and then serves her in any way that she will let him. So far it is as expected.

At some point, he apparently decided to escalate the demonstration of his yearnings for domination and to be considered female. The blog was reasonable until then. With today’s common theme of extreme FLR, cuckolding had to enter his realm. He writes very well about it, and the story is plausible. But I see a patina of fantasy on this new beginning. His previous very real posts have taken a turn toward every closet homosexual male’s needs and desires. He has had some “dates” with his wife’s boyfriend’s male friend. It was all arranged for him, so he is blameless in his encounters.

I admit that I did get some thrill out of following the details. Most of my thrills were the assumed domination by the wife, such that he had to submit to her boyfriend also. But I have a bit of a problem with the other part that I will detail in a moment. Aside from the very likely fantasy presented as real, he will have a problem in real life: life is not like fantasy. It can be very cruel.

I truly have no problem with a man giving up to his homosexual needs, and acting on them. If you have to admit it, go ahead. It does not make you a lesser person. It does not diminish you in my presence or my opinion. You can still be my friend, and I can still trust you with my life if I would have done so otherwise. In fact, I would trust you more, because you are not hiding something from me. And there is the rub.

Cross-dressing is OK for fun. I am not into it, but I can see how it could be a thrill. But this takes me back to my introduction on this subject: be all you can be, but not somebody else. If this cross dresser enjoys being with and around people pretending to be a female, and they all know he is just playing the part, then all is well. He is a female wannabe, and we should give him a chance. It is harmless, and often helpful to real females. If he keeps it within his close relationship, then anything goes, and all know that he is pretending.

That is where a problem can arise. If he goes outside the relationship, people may not know that he is pretending. That is like taking credit for something that he is not, or he has not achieved. I don’t think that I would be vindictive if I were duped by him (see this post Is She Real?). But some people are not as easy going as I am. My real problem is with the pretense for real. As interesting, fascinating, and sexy as the story may be, I could not justify it because of my urgent need to be true.

With all that I am not saying that I have never lied. We have thresholds for behavior, and circumstances always have strong effects. For example, I have done undercover police work where telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth would have been counterproductive to my job. If I had a problem with that, I would not have gone into law enforcement. But that is not what I am saying here. How could I dress as a woman and expect to be accepted as one? To what extent would the acceptance go? At some point the rubber meets the road, and I don’t want to go there.

Arguments And Fights

I tend to be pragmatic in mostly all of what I do. It is the way I am. It is also for this reason that I distinguish between an argument and a fight in more or less benign context, say, between partners in a given situation.

An argument can be rational or not. That depends on whether both persons adhere to rationality to resolve issues. Argument relies on logic to support one’s position. The attempt by both parties is to convince the other of supporting facts. When one or both parties use emotional support, the argument fails. It becomes something else.

My current pontification was incited by Great Kate. She presented a way to diffuse what could have turned into a fight, and she did a great job. I am sure that she was being rhetorical when she asked, “Does every fight have to be settled by exchanging punches?”

A fight is the other way of handling things. As a given requirement, it is irrational. A fight occurs when an argument was not tried, or was tried and it failed. Some people don’t have the skill or incentive to argue, so they are always in the fight mode. When something annoys them, they fight.

I have heard that “Violence is the last resort of the incompetent.” I have never thrown a first punch. However, when I was the recipient of such, I tried to retaliate in kind depending on the situation. For example, I would not punch back to a person whom I loved and or respected. Also, I would not punch back when I was passed out on the floor. Given that, I can honestly say that I have never had a fight with my wife. I had to duck a few times, and had put up with some verbal abuse, but never retaliated in kind.

In our early years I tried to argue with her. It did not work. She is not the pragmatic logical person who I am, and there is no way to convince her of right or wrong when she perceives a hurt. So, what I always do, is let her vent her fury, and then she will calm.

Of course, that approach had gotten me into trouble simply because of my lack of expected response. I can lose a fight even when I refuse to respond. But that is better than responding in kind, for that would escalate the stakes and the required responses. As the years went by, she has figured out that it is not only difficult, but damn near impossible to get me into a fight with her. I would rather suffer whatever she decides to throw at me (figuratively speaking) than to fight her. When logic fails, irrationality also fails. We come back to the problem later and solve it rationally. We both learn from it.

All of this is not really within the spirit and practice of our Female Led Relationship. It is part of our basic relationship that supports FLR. We are not perfect. She flies off the handle once in a while, and I feel hurt. But neither will cause long lasting harm, and neither of us is trying to prove anything. It is just the way we are.

Master Bation

He Is Not As Bad As The Rumor Says

There is a lot of perversion of the idea of masturbation. Somehow people decided that it is wrong to masturbate. Under some circumstances it may be true, but generally it is all right.

Let’s get some basics out of the way before getting into the fun stuff. Does masturbation do any harm? If yes, what?

Regardless of the gender, age, or whether done in private or shared, except in extreme cases it is benign. One might call it a renewable resource with a kick.

I know it maybe sinful in some religions, but I am talking physiological or psychological, not philosophical effects. Anyone care to comment?

Since I heard no comments, I will proceed.

The Single Person

Assume that you are a single adult, and have no relationship with a partner who would be willing to participate in sex, or worse even, with whom you would rather not participate. If you feel the need to masturbate, and you don’t satisfy it, well, you are missing some fun.

Extending the above scenario, assume that you do have an occasional sex partner, but you just don’t get enough. Does it hurt anybody if you take things in hand from time to time? Unless you do it to the extent that “you can’t perform” when expected, what is the harm?

Oh, so maybe you do that, and don’t measure up when challenged? I would have to ask the reason for both: why do you masturbate to that extent, and why you don’t measure up. I could write essays on both, but will skip that for now.

In A Committed Relationship

Now we have more restrictions and expectations. If you have an exclusive relationship with your sex partner, then he or she will have something to say about your handling your affairs without some guidelines. But let’s look at some examples. I know, some of you are already thinking of sex forced on you when in prison. Go ahead, have your fantasy. As committed as that relationship may be, it is not what I am relating here.

Is it possible that you are in a vanilla relationship, and you and your partner are not well matched for frequency of sexual needs. We could measure the needs as the number of orgasms you or your partner requires per period of time. I would say that is true way more than half the time. This is where masturbation comes in handy, so to speak. It does not detract from the less sexually charged person’s enjoyment, but gives some gratification to the horny one. On the long run, all may be well unless one or the other is carried to an extreme.

I have never heard from anyone complaining that his wife or girlfriend masturbates so much that she loses interest in him. Much of the time the man is usually the horny one who wants more sex, and the woman may be satisfied with his occasional handling his own needs. If this ends up to be an exclusive affair that is shutting out the partner in favor of self-gratification, then the relationship is no longer viable without some modification. This would be truly an extracurricular affair.

In a D/S Relationship

D/S without sex is like scratching yourself when you don’t have an itch: after a while it becomes irritating. In the famous words of Doctor Charles Montague in the movie, High Anxiety, “Too much punishment, not enough discipline” (he wanted less whipping, and more personal attention). Sure, it can happen, but when it does, it is time to exit.

So we are finally at good old D/S with sex. Here is where the “rubber meets the road”.

In an FLR the female can do anything she wants, but the male is subject to her rules. Assuming that you subscribe to that (if you don’t, I don’t know why you are reading this), we still need to look at the reasons for which male masturbation is restricted or prohibited. There may be many, and for a quirky reason I will list some here. The list is provocative and farcical, but not exhaustive.

• He would do it to such excess that he would lose interest in her when she needs it.
• He would do it only occasionally, but the mistress would feel cheated, as if he were performing adultery (see No Masturbation!!!).
• He no longer owns his cock, so he must not be allowed to pleasure it.
• He must never be allowed orgasm without her approval.
• He must be punished for past transgressions against her.
• She gets off on tormenting him through this limitation.
• Slaves must not be allowed to have pleasure.

Any of these ideas is as ridiculous as the next, but when implemented in context, two people can have a lot of fun with it. I am not talking about pathological cases of self-inflicted chastity. It’s fine if that is all you can have, but we are really addressing a relationship between (at least) two people.

In this FLR masturbation means female or male doing it. Female masturbation is OK, any number of times, anywhere, any time. Male masturbation is to be done, if at all, by her rules.

Yeah, well, sort of. For example, “How would you stop a man from doing this?”

“Chastity devices,” you say?

I suppose it could work. I know the implications. The problem is, the reason for the device would have to persist, and the enforcer of the device would have to be active in the care and feeding of the subject. One cannot simply lock the cage or belt on the poor schmuck, and set him loose. Even if he really desires wearing this device, at some point it becomes like wearing an artificial limb when you still have the real thing: pointless.

Chastity devices can prohibit, or at least make very difficult the act of masturbation, but they have to be used in an appropriate context. If the prevention of masturbation is the reason, maybe the whole premise of FLR is at jeopardy. After all, a submissive man can be told, “Do not masturbate!” and that would be the end of it. If he disobeys, he is not submissive enough, and he needs to be …

And here is where we get wrapped around the axle. I am not trying to make fun of this odd relationship. After all, I have experienced, and still do, much of it. But I am suggesting that none of this is real. All are wonderfully sexual and sensual games that can be part of a lifestyle for years. But it can also change in a moment. It is because it is consensual, and that is great. There are no rules other than what the two of you agree. Ignore anything other people tell you unless it has to do with “don’t do this or your […] will fall off.” I am all for experimentation, but I don’t want to be the posthumous recipient of one of the Darwin Awards.

The bottom line is, masturbation is beneficial, and don't anybody believe otherwise.

Not The Ring Trilogy

This is the last one on the ring. I promise. Unless someone requests more. I could not take pictures of the rings together prior to this time because the one I usually wear was in place, and the cage was also in place, which contained the ring. Today MW had me remove the cage. Because of some swelling of the little guy that is caused by the cage, she had me remove the ring also. It took some effort and trickery, but the ring came off. Consequently, I took this opportunity to photograph the twin rings while they were both idle.


In the first picture you see two rings. Both show my reflection with a window behind me as I am using the camera. Of course, I don’t really look like that: because of the concavity of the rings, my image is distorted. The ring on the left is the one MW wears when she chooses to do so. I polish it as necessary. The one on the right is the one I wear whenever she decides, which is much of the time. The rings looked identical originally: both shining silver, almost transparent. MW’s ring retained that feature, whereas the one I wear has developed an attractive irridescent greenish patina, which we chose not to remove.

In the second picture you see the same two rings from a different perspective. They look more real and more substantial. You can see the difference in size, my ring being slightly larger. I have tried to put on her ring once, but after a few minutes of struggle I decided against continuing. I still remember the gold ring that I had to cut off with a bolt cutter before …



Previously I referred to a problem with respect to using this ring. The problem had nothing to do with a metabolic reaction to the metal. Rather, it was a reaction to the physical constraint that the ring imposed. Consequently, a physical change took place in the little guy.

The Rings

Some years ago while in college I worked at jobs that made the wearing of a wedding ring, or any kind of ring for that matter, hazardous. Consequently, I left my wedding ring in a drawer at home. My wife was understanding, and did not think that I wanted to enhance my flirting possibilities by the lack of displaying a wedding ring.

An anniversary was coming up, and my wife (she was not yet MW then) decided to get me something special. She visited a jeweler, and described to him the kind of ring she wanted. It was to be of gold, about a quarter inch wide, thick band, with no sharp edges. She gave the jeweler the inner diameter needed. The jeweler said, “Your husband must be a large man to have fingers this big.”

“The ring is not for his finger,” she answered.

There was no more to be said at that point.

On the anniversary she presented the ring to me. I was pleased, and tried it on all of my fingers. Alas, it was too big. She just smiled, and said, “There is one you haven’t tried.”

I was quick to realize what the ring was for. But I had to work fast. With a bit of manhandling I was able to manipulate it on into a position just behind the glans.

It was a good fit at first. I could wear it at work without worry about damages to it or my fingers. I experienced some pain during nocturnal erections, but it was somewhat erotic, and I became accustomed to it.

After some years the configuration of the little guy must have adapted to the constriction, for in cool weather the fit became rather loose. A couple of times the ring fell off. I decided then that instead of losing the ring, I would just keep in on my dresser, and wear it only when the little guy tended to be big, such as under provocation, in warm weather, and also, while at home.

My wife, MW by this time, was aware of this, so she decided to get us another anniversary present. She did some research on the Internet and found it. The present was a pair of silver rings. One smaller for her, and one larger, but not quite as large as the gold ring, for me. It takes a bit of effort to put it on, but this is unlikely to work itself off without lubrication and some force. This is the ring shown in my previous post. However, it had caused another problem of sorts. I will not go into that this time.

In The Cage Again

A few days ago she said, “I would like to experiment with the CB again,” while looking over my posterior.

Her computer is in her bedroom. She could see me as she was sitting at her keyboard. I must have appealed to her somewhat dormant dominant nature as I leaned over her bed while folding her clothes. Then she asked, “Would that be all right with you?”

I don’t now whether it was rhetorical or she really needed my approval. Considering that she has perfected her very own invented technique of Ignore and Denial, I figured that shifting into Tease and Denial was a positive step. I tried to say something that did not sound stupid, but I am not sure I succeeded. Still, she added, “When you have put away my clothes, bring me the devices. I want to choose the one I want.” Trying to contain my budding erection in the face of upcoming tease I went about my business, and then hers. She chose the CB2000. As a waiter would say to a customer, “It is an excellent choice, Madam.”

So, now the little guy is encased in plastic. This picture is one of my “file photos” from 2007. Aside from the PA ring addition, no change. This time he must have been titillated, for I had hell of a time connecting the locking post with the PA ring on account of all the juices and extraordinary length.

A couple of days later she said, “When I remove the device, you will shave as you are supposed to do.”

All I could say was “Yes’m”

The day went on. Late afternoon she said, “Remove it and then report to me.”

I removed the cage. She had me sit on a stool in the bathroom, and then used a hair cutter to trim my bush that had not been short for some time. After that she told me to shave the important parts.

I got my used razor to go to some place where the sun was bright. With a few sips of wine and sunlight I proceeded to remove the quarter-inch sparse stubble that grew since the last enforced shave. I stood in the bright light, and held my parts this way and that while scraping away. This was not in the shower. This was not with shaving foam. This was not with a straight razor. It was with a used safety razor, with my anatomy dry, standing outdoors while doing depilation.

This is not a painful process. Trust me. The sparse hair on my family jewels is not resistant, and there is no hard stubble such as would be on my chin, just some length of hair here or there. The pubic hair near my thighs, which is more abundant, was only part of the operation. It too, was clipped, and then dry shaved. I would love to suffer for MW. Alas, this was not the way. She will come up with her own way for my suffering, such as “not doing anything” when I really need it.

After I reported to her she had me put a ring on my [her] cock as a temporary measure for things to come. What you see is the underside of the little guy. I turned it around to give a better view.

We went out shopping, and I did all the driving and hauling. After returning home, I unloaded the purchases. She said, “Report to me in the bedroom in five minutes.”

I was elated, thinking that she had more kinky stuff in mind. All that did happen was her telling me to install the CB3000 this time. It was difficult on account of the little guy being out of character: he was big. After half an hour or so I forced him into the plastic tube using a wire hook to grab the PA ring to pull him to where he belonged so that I could connect all the chains and locks. Damned ingrate. The short chain in the front connects the locking post with the PA ring. It does not have a lock this time since MW claims to trust me to be true. I am so good! She had me install the signaling device also, because she needed me for helping with lifting and such.

During the rest of the day she called me via the device to do “this and that”, and each time mistreated my tits. One might think that to be cruel. I think of it as, “Oh God, that is heavenly painful.” She is not always that bad. But when she decides, she is the best at it. My tits will attest.

Those of you who have had the very personal acquaintance with the CB 3000 would know that it is smaller and more confining than the CB 2000. An erection in the CB 2000 or CB 3000 feels about the same. Also, at other times, there is no discernible difference in feeling. But there is a difference. The CB 3000 offers less access to the caged part because of the fewer openings around its side. The balls are pinched just the same. The nocturnal erections feel just as weird. But the little guy looks different with smooth plastic against it rather than plastic bars. If you don’t know what I am talking about, you just have to be there to see it.

MW is good about not insisting my incarceration while on the job or out of our home. Not only would it be embarrassing to be caught in the cage, but it would be a potential for criminal and civil litigation under some circumstances having to do with my job. It is a shame that I cannot leave the home with this fine instrument where it belongs. But we try to make up for it while I am at home.

Two days later, this morning, we went out again, with me driving her to various places. She had me remove the CB 3000 prior to leaving. After return some hours later I unloaded the goods that she bought, and got into my uniform (my natural state). As I was making the bed, she said, “You will put on Kali this time.” That vicious little piece of plastic is OK as long as I get no sexual provocation. Given that I have an almost permanent hard on during my sleep, I know that suffering is in my near future.

It is now a day later. I went to sleep last night with the Kali in place. MW came to me during the night and tested my response to squeezing it. She then applied a pair of clamps to my on/off switches, before proceeding to remove Kali’s teeth. By then the little guy was big again, so my attention was split among three painful places. In a while she clipped the plastic tie that holds Kali in place, then yanked off the clamps.

All I have had today were a few squeezes of the boys. It is not really fair of her to punish the boys when I am the one who is at fault. In a way it hurts me more than it hurts them.

Fat Old Women

MW and I were having dinner. I don’t know how the subject came up, but we were discussing fat old women. Now, don’t take this as derogatory. I have known fat women, old women, and fat old women. These are traits that some of us acquire over the years. I know, a fresh young female or male might laugh at this, but let’s see whether they still laugh when they become fat and old.

Anyway, MW was working on some cartoons, and she needed pictures of fat old women from which she could create her characters. I suggested to do an Internet search on “fat old women”, and see what turns up. She laughed, saying, “I did, and got a lot of material that I did not expect.”

I was intrigued by the idea, so after dinner I did a search as suggested. The result was 11 pages of stuff similar to what you see below. I did not follow the links. Well, maybe the last one. I was curious. Unless you have some robust anti-virus protection with accompanied prophylactics, I suggest that you don’t try it. I never even got to the promised pictures. Sheesh, I may have to see the doctor real soon.

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My appreciation of the human female is limitless. I do have preferences, but also maintain an open mind over size, shape, color, age, etc. Over the years I have realized that what I like to see is characterized like a window that moves from left to right. On the left it has young females, on the right old. As the window moves, some of the young ones drop out of my view on the left, and older ones appear on the right. I know I used to like ogling teenage girls. For some time now I don’t recall why. I don’t think it is senility, but then, if I were senile, I would not know it.

One thing that always thrills me is seeing a grand old lady. It is not necessarily her looks, but her manner and bearing that give me a thrill. One of the examples is in the movie, Stargate (1994 with Kurt Russell). In it there was a woman of substantial years who played the character of a scientist. I believe the actress was Rae Allen.

I don’t remember her from earlier movies, but she must have been beautiful all along. It’s not that I had the hots for her in this movie. But she beautifully fit my idea of the grand old lady.

Before you think that I am digging myself in too deep, I want to say this: I do prefer women younger rather than older in general. I won’t commit to the age range, for that is not relevant here. I also believe that “it is not what you have, but what you do with it” that makes all the difference. So, all you sweet ladies who think you are getting old or fat just remember this. I would rather spend an evening fully clothed, sipping wine, and conversing with a grand old lady or you, than trying to get to first base with some sexy young dimwit who does not know what to do with what she has, and can’t articulate a reasonable thought. Of course, that is not saying that I would not take off my clothes and do other stuff if the grand old lady was interested. Well, maybe not always. As I said before, “I am versatile,” also willing and able. Then again, MW might have something to say about that if it ever presented itself. The chastity device and the paddle are never too far from where they are to be used if necessary.

She Has Remote Control

I generally don’t watch television. I have come to the conclusion that in order to see something on television, I must be captive to the time of broadcast, else I miss significant parts when I feel like taking a bathroom break. I know there are devices out there that could help in case I really felt that it was necessary and constructive.

Don’t get me going on TIVO. Aside from the original expense, it is still another device stacked on top of the TV, time spent on programming, controversial issues of copyright violation. It is just another gadget. If you use this device, you are just as much slave to television as if you were sitting in front of the current broadcast. Justify it all you want, it will not change the fact that you are stuck on some mindless drivel presented as entertainment.

I am not a Luddite. I have acquired my share of wonderful devices, however short-lived they were due to technological advances. Although I have never bought an eight-track player, I did many other things like that were just as futile. I am not into blue ray yet.

Once in a while while traveling I was subjected to the many channels offered through the hotel’s service. I found myself clicking through a lot of stuff until I came around a number of times to see the same offerings. That is when I turned it off, put on some music, and got one of the several books that I may have been reading at the time.

Although I like movies, they can never do justice to a story presented in a book. Imagination is a wonderful thing that is much ignored when one is overwhelmed by special effects to dramatize some non-essential aspect of a story. That is one of the reasons why I could never get involved with pornography: continuous (yawn) special effects.

Occasionally mindless drivel is exactly what one needs to get away from the tension pressed on us by everyday events. I could use TV. Then again, I can pop an old movie into the DVD player, and have a great time without the pressure of timing, programming, or worries over FBI warnings of fines and prison time. So, over the years, I grew away from television.

In many blogs having to do with FLR it is stated that “she has the remote” meaning, the remote controller to the TV. Whoa! I am really impressed. That is truly a female in charge! Imagine having control of the remote without having to worry about your resident jock wanting to watch wrestling or whatever.

Ok, I am being sarcastic. For one thing, I try to stay away from remote controllers. I generally find it easier to just push the damn button on the actual device then try to figure out which remote control does what to whom. Alas, some devices of late no longer have physical buttons to push or turn, so one is stuck with the damn remote controller. Of course, if a cat is sitting between one and the device, or if the battery has gone past its life, etc., one is still obliged to do the brutish physical thing as opposed to the expected esoteric approach.

One of the problems with this evolution of remote-controlled devices is that there is a proliferation of them in one’s abode. Many are gathering dust because nobody remembers what they are supposed to control. If the house is large, the issue is not that of spatial accommodation, rather, it has to do with “where the hell is the damn remote control this [whatever]?” and “Damn, it’s the wrong one.” As I said, I usually get around that by not relying on them. Then again, some things cannot be done without the controller, so I am screwed.

This was a roundabout way to get to my point. In my life, the woman has the remote controller to just about anything. For example, the signaling device. Even this morning we were doing some maintenance on some equipment in our home. She needed my brute force to do some things occasionally while I was doing other things in a distant part of the house. She was not expected to telephone me or to yell to summon me. It was obvious that the signaling device had to be installed on my appropriate parts. Now there is a useful instrument.

She said, “When you are zapped once, it means I want you here.”

“Where is here my dear?”

“Wherever I am, my love.”

“Oh.”

“When you get zapped repeatedly, it means that I am messing with you.”

“Oh.”

But that is not what I was really talking about here. MW has a remote control that is not electronic in nature. As we sip coffee I am looking at her round knees and very feminine charms above. I am sitting on the floor close enough to pick up her scent if she were to spread her knees. At this distance remote control is not an issue. She can do the manual thing, since I am reachable through tactile input or the scent thing. But let us assume that I am doing some chores across the room from her. She spreads her knees, and I see the movement. I zero in on the center of my existence. She need not say a word to get me to do things. She has the most powerful remote control in life. And it requires no batteries.

An Old Issue To Lay To Rest

A few days ago I posed a question: “Should I switch to using an intercom or continue with the signaling device that allows MW to summon me on a painful moment’s notice?”

Well, you out there have not said a word, which had not helped me at all. I must assume that you don’t give a you-know-what. Meanwhile I have do deal with reality. As most of us relatively sane participants in life know, sometimes “Reality hits the fan.”

It was a bit before sunrise that I went to see why MW has not summoned me via the intercom. She was sitting in front of her computer beating the hell out of the keyboard as part of typing something meaningful.

“You are up. You did not summon me,” I stated the obvious.

“The thing didn’t work,” she answered.

“Maybe it needs to be turned on.” I went to the intercom and checked. Sure enough, it was not turned on. “Any chance that you could turn the knob before you try to summon me? I asked.

“There is no knob on the controller that I tried,” she responded while holding the controller to the signaling device between us.

“Oh.” I kind of got her meaning even before she applied a technique we used in karate. It was called, “squeezing the peach.”

So, all of you silent readers, may rest assured that your answers are no longer considered in the decision. MW made it, and I am back to wearing the [frigging] signaling device. Ouch.

Who Is Responsible For Exterminating The Vermin?

I am a citizen of the United States of America. My opinions are from that point of view.

A sweet lady left a comment on The Dinghy. Her question to me was, “But why do you think it [is] the Americans responsibility to rid the high seas of pirates? The time for the US to be the custodian is passing. I await the Chinese navy to solve the piracy problem on the east coast of Africa given how much trade the Chinese do with Africa and how much weaponry the Chinese have sold to them.”

It is a good question, and I would love to address it. Also, I agree with her two statements.

First I want to state that I don’t believe, and never advocated the idea that the USA alone should rid the high seas of pirates. Personally, if I could pull a trigger and be rid of all pirates, I would have no problem doing so. But reality does not work that way. I will get back to this.

A very profound statement is attributed to one of our presidents, Theodore Roosevelt: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” The issue of USA being the custodian of the world is very controversial. My opinion is that is that this country never should have been the world police. I would rather live in a society that knows its worth, leaves all other countries alone, and strikes back with devastation if attacked. This belief is patterned after my own personal values with respect to people around me. I am polite and willing to serve, just don't mess with me.

What I hint above is essentially isolationism. But most of us are realistic enough to know that in today’s world that is not entirely possible. There are alternatives. Just as I rely on the local police to clean up the mess caused by criminals, today’s civilized world could rely on a world government to provide that sort of service. In fact, in our current administration there is a strong tendency to advocate exactly that. The problem is that this world is not yet ready for it. I definitely don’t advocate a one-world government at this time. The simple reason is that there is too much corruption even on a local level, and I would hate to experience what the emperor or empress would do.

A potentially viable alternative is relying on the United Nations to be the world police. They could, in theory, remove the piracy threat. Alas, they cannot and will not. If the UN were a man, he could not find his dick in the dark. This is why NATO is as prominent as it is in providing stability and force where the UN should have. The UN has had many “resolutions” to prohibit nasty dictators from doing evil things to their people, their neighbors, and to distant countries. And when these dictators do whatever they want, the UN makes still more resolutions. This is also why the USA is in Afghanistan and Iraq today. I would not trust the UN leadership to change the litter in my cat’s box.

The remaining alternative for the piracy problem is decisive action by those affected by it. There was a time in the history of the USA when our citizens could travel the world and be assured that if he or she were in trouble, the USA would take action in their behalf. Alas, those days are over. This was well demonstrated by former president Carter with respect to the Iranian “students” taking and holding Americans hostage. Carter did make an attempt to rescue the hostages. Of course, when politicians make decisions on the details of a critical mission, it is bound to fail, and so did this. It was not until president Reagan took office that the Ayatollah decided to let our people go. His holiness realized that he was no longer dealing with an impotent peacenik.

I said days before the dinghy rescue event that our Navy could take care of the situation if allowed to do so. Once their leash was dropped, they did. Of course, now we have made the pirates angry, and they have threatened to treat Americans with extreme prejudice. I won’t go into details, for we all have some ideas on how to handle this. I have already proposed one, and there is just one more. First, our navy must protect American ships. Next thing is to search and destroy all pirates in coastal areas and the seas. Once other nations see that this is possible, the pirates would not have a chance. This would also demonstrate that we take it very personally if any of our citizens are arbitrarily put in jeopardy. I also see no reason why other nations should or could not do the same. Of course, this action would take balls.

Our Navy has balls, whereas our government is emasculated. Our only hope is that the UN will protect us while we sit in trepidation.

I see another UN resolution coming. Assuming the pirates can read, maybe they will laugh themselves to death.

A Matter Of Communication ...

I have introduced and then referred to the signaling device a number of times such as in A Sunday Morning. The device itself is insignificant, but can be as much pain in the balls as a hard plastic chastity device. The features, reactions, and purpose are different, but still are an almost constant discomfort and occasionally serious pain.

For some years now I have been up early to begin my day hours before MW does hers. What I do in this twilight interval is not relevant to this post. However, I do like to connect with her when she is ready to be up. The signaling device has been an almost 100% reliable way to get my attention when she is ready some hours later. She wakes and looks at the clock. It is too early for her, so she goes back to sleep. At some point she is awake again, and decides that it is time to begin her day. She reaches for the controlling device hanging on the wall next to her bed. She pushes the button closest to the end, and the rest is up to me. It is such a simple act on her part, that even in half sleep, which she had done many times, it works.

Some other reasons for her to summon me during these times may show up occasionally in the form of furry creatures who need to be tossed from her bed so that she can be comfortable. I am not talking about vermin although from time to time they may be considered such. Cats generally. We keep our big dogs outside so that they can protect us from vermin of two or four-legged variety.

You might think that the arrangement is equitable and satisfactory to both of us. With her being in charge I am sure that it is. With me being the executor of her arbitrary will, I have some issues.

I often make very strong and very hot coffee in the early morning hours while I bide my time away from MW. If she senses a five hundred pound immovable mass behind her butt that she wants me to move, she will reach for her controller and push the button. All that is appropriate. However, the result of the controller’s message to the device that I wear around my very private parts is a jolt. Combine that with sipping hot coffee and you could see a potential problem. Yes, I could skip the coffee, but I would still experience the jolt. MW is not really perverse, just a little on the appreciative side of the sounds I make inadvertently as a result. She says that she would miss it if we did not do this thing.

Some time ago I bought some home communication devices that are entirely conventional. No zapping of private parts is suggested, or even possible without extreme modification of the basic units. They are like the old-fashioned “intercom” units where one pushes a button to talk, and then releases it to listen. I thought that these would be perfect under our circumstances. Alas, MW misses the maniacal scream that I provide with the signaling device. As I said, the intercom is strictly benign. Whether or not I will continue with the intercom, or resume the use of the signaling device remains to be seen. Anyone with a suggestion?

The Dinghy

Our navy is capable of removing entire countries from the face of the earth, yet it is handicapped with indecision and political correctness from the top down to the lowest rank.

Can anyone tell me why it is impossible to extract a hostage held by four cutthroats in a rubber boat? I am no expert, but any non-commissioned officer could organize a rescue party, and take care of this situation. Has anyone heard of concussion grenades? Or a hoist to lift the dinghy from the water and plop it down on the deck with a number of guns pointing at it? Could not our Navy Seals move in and scuttle the dinghy so that these criminals’ first concern would be breathing rather than ransom? What the hell is so difficult about this?

Next thing we know our spineless government will set up an embassy in Somalia and begin negotiations with pirates. We will apologize to them for being in their waters, and admit that they have a legitimate business of kidnap and extortion for money. Then we will give them foreign aid so that they no longer will have to risk their lives on such a dangerous carrier. Our navy will give them a ride back to shore.

Sheesh, is not anybody in charge here? I don't think that Mr. Obama needs to handle this himself. This is a simple police action on the high seas, and the Navy can take care of it. The problem is, Mr. Obama is not handling it, and is apparently not allowing anyone else to handle it. What is he going to do when something really bad happens, such as trying to deal with the North Koreans or the Iranians? Is he going to apologize again and hope that they will not be too angry with us?

If this is a precedent for how this administration is handling situations, we are doomed.

No Balls

I have been monitoring the development of the American ship’s abduction by the Somalian pirates. I don’t have the details, but if the ship’s crew re-took ownership of the ship from the criminals, I salute them. They have balls, as opposed to our government.

Meanwhile, our illustrious President was asked for a comment about what he will do about these criminals. His comment was, “No comment”. Read that as “I have not a clue”.

I am not the president of the most powerful country on Earth, but I can guess that in his place I would have said something different. Something like, “Watch and learn.” Here is what I mean.

I would have sent a large war ship to the coast of Somalia to make a presence. I would have sent a team of Navy seals to gather positions of the local villas and estates of the newly rich pirates. I would have then sent a helicopter over the land and drop leaflets that would provide the information in their language as follows:

Your pirates have done an act of aggression against the United States of America by attacking one of our ships. We have nothing against Somalia, but we are in the process of eliminating the criminals (pirates) that you harbor. At five hours Greenwich Mean Time from now the estates of these criminals will be destroyed. If you are near these targets, it would be advisable for you to leave.

Then five hours after, the big ship’s guns would use the GPS coordinates of these estates to pinpoint the center of destruction and proceed. After the dust settled pirates would no longer consider taking an American ship as a hostage. Of course, I am not the president of the United States of America. Also, I have balls. Our president without balls cannot afford to insult anyone in Somalia on account of their being … ah you know, “not white” and also, maybe ah you know, “not Christian” and after all, this is an “international matter” and the UN should [please] take care of it for us.

I am about to paraphrase Michelle Obama’s speech as she said,

“For the First Time in My Adult Lifetime, I'm Really Proud of My Country ...” referring to her husband’s nomination to presidency."

My statement is,

“For the First Time in My Adult Lifetime I am really ashamed of My Country considering asking permission from anyone to kill these criminals with extreme prejudice.“

What I would do is vaporize them, and thereby, set a precedent. Piracy, as we have it today, would become history. And I would not give a damn about how any country or religious sect feels about it. We don't mess with you, but if you mess with us, you die.

The problem is, we don't have a president who sees it that way. His way is to apologize for the USA being here. Well damn, we were here before he was borne. It is not his position to apologize for anything.

Who Says FLR Is All About Sex?

Great Kate seems to have FLR figured out. If you want to know the details, check out It didn't happen over night. At least, she has figured out the sex part pertaining to the dominant woman, and oh, by the way, to the submissive man.

First I want to say that I see nothing wrong with her view … as long as it works. Most would-be submissive men would love to serve a woman such as she. The reason I really like her approach is that she admits, maybe not in so many words, “FLR is about sex.” Primarily about her sex, and then the spillover about his sex. Everybody is happy.

This is what I have been saying all along. It a may be a great and wonderful thing to serve a deserving woman in all ways: cleaning her toilet, doing her laundry, washing her car, keeping her house spotless, etc. It is a worthy cause as long as she appreciates it. But, nothing happens in vacuum, whereas everything else happens in some loaded space: “FLR is about sex,” and don’t you forget that.

This is what Great Kate says. She does not exactly distill her view into such few words, but you can figure it out quickly. Without the sex component the relationship will last only for a while, until one gets tired of serving or the other gets tired of responding to whiney submissives. But while it lasts, damn, it can be a blast.