SS&TDP (Short Sweet and To the Point:)
I hope everyone had a great Halloween, and I hope that, to all of those who suffered through a long Locktober, that your blessed and beautiful release is every bit as powerful as you imagined it would be.
Happy November!
Annoying Creepy Guy: "Mistress, you are so beautiful. I want to be your slave!"
Annoyed Woman: "Good, so since you are my slave, you will obey my every command. Therefore as your new mistress, I order you to get the hell out of my sight and leave me alone."
Submissive Prospect: "Mistress, you are hot! I want to be your toilet!"
Mistress/Indoor Plumbing Expert: "Well, I don't need a toilet, the one I have works fine. But I do need a dishwasher. And my washing machine is on the fritz. Maybe you can come over and do my dishes and hand-wash my clothes for me."
Cavity Creep: "Mistress, I need discipline. Would you spank me?"
Irritated Object of Affection: "Well, if you need discipline, my boyfriend here is a Marine Drill Sargent. I'll let him know, and he can discipline you for me."
Online Perv: (sends a dick pick to online dating prospect)
Creeped out online woman: (Sends a picture of a horse's ass back to online perv, then promptly blocks him.)
Ladies: I apologize on behalf of all those clueless guys out there with no "game". Maybe some of us were all there at one point.
Fellas: If you find yourself on the receiving end of any of these lines... You need to re-think your approach.
Why do some men submit?
For a complex array of reasons.
Because we are taught it's better to give than receive, and this applies to pleasure as well. Because if you love your partner, their pleasure should be more important than your own.
So we can learn how better to please our partners, both in bed, and in our daily lives. So they can teach us not only how to be a better lover, but also, to be a better companion, a better boyfriend, and a better human being.
And on that last thing, this should be why we should be picky about who we submit to. I want someone who is a righteous, intelligent, and moral person, so I can grow and be a better person by being with them. Not a swindler, scammer, bigot, or someone lacking in general empathy.
Because we admire strength, both physical, and strength of personality and of the mind.
Because the thought of someone else taking control and surrendering to them unconditionally is not only a huge sexual turn on for me, but it's an act of love.
These are my main reasons.
I very consciously avoided talking about kinks here. Yes, I obviously have them. But some people tend to get turned off by excessive wank fodder, so I will try to be "Good" and avoid posting about that stuff, from here on out. And, in my years I've found that any relationship based purely on kink cannot last anyway. After a while you crave the emotional and personal connection.
It's Lock-Tober! I wish I could share my experience of being locked in a chastity cage for the duration of this month, and give a day-by-day update on it. I don't have a romantic partner at the moment, and if I did, she probably wouldn't be into that kind of thing anyway. Which I suppose is partly disappointing and partly a relief, depending on how you look at it. It depends on my own mood. I can think of plenty of people I know in real life I wouldn't mind being my key-holder/Mistress/lifestyle Domme; if they were really into such things...
So, while I've never been cock-locked before, and so I can't speak to the mundane logistical details about the experience (What is it like to ride a bike, for example, with a cock cage on?) I can speak about the time I voluntarily tried not to jerk off for as long as I could- starting in mid-December several years back.
I was, at the time, single as I am now. I was out visiting family for Christmas, for sixteen days, and without too much privacy, I felt like it would be hard to get away with any self-eroticism (though I suppose the shower would have worked.) And even though I planned to arrive back in town a couple days before New Years, I made a pre-New Years resolution: no cumming until after New Years. So I didn't. I ended up going nearly 19 days without cumming.
The first week or so wasn't too bad. After a few days I did start occasionally craving sex, with the desire for release occasionally popping into my mind, but it wasn't too bad. Plenty of other distractions- family, the holidays and all the accompanying obligations, kept my mind occupied on other things.
The second week, after Christmas was over, was a little harder. I woke up with wood every single morning. Although I was avoiding anything "Stimulating" (including, especially, looking at any kind of erotica on Mom's computer, which would be a family faux pas) I nonetheless found my thoughts turning increasingly "Dirty." The more days that passed, the more extreme my fantasies got. I began to imagine all kinds of kinky scenes, always with me in a compromising position at the feet of my dream Domme, subjected to her increasingly twisted and sadistic whims. Hardcore stuff; whips, paddles, extreme humiliation, even toilet play. By New Years' Eve, which I celebrated quietly with a couple buddies the day I got back, these kind of thoughts tormented me constantly. On the drive back, I was in a state of near constant arousal. I thought of those Viagra ads: "Seek Medical Attention for an Erection Lasting Longer than Four Hours." Was this even healthy? Sex, the kinkier the better, was on my mind all the time, as was the thought of what my orgasmic release would be like once I allowed myself to. I toyed with the idea of stopping and seeing a "professional" on the way back, passing through Nevada, but passed that up. It just didn't feel right, and in any case I doubted I would find any brothel girls who were into the fem-domme stuff anyway, which, after two weeks, was all I could think about.
For some reason I waited a couple days even after New Year's Day had passed. Somehow the torment of not being allowed a release was even more perversely pleasurable. It became a game, how long could I hold out, would my own self-discipline keep me in check? I felt hyper-sexualized, almost like fire in my veins. Yet, at the same time I was unfulfilled. I had a super vivid dream the night of January 2, of being dragged into some bushes by a hot girl, holding pink spiked leash attached to my balls, and her repeatedly peeing on me, while mocking me and laughing. I woke up almost feverish with lust at that point.
When I finally did let go, I literally orgasmed in my pants. It was actually embarrassing how it happened. I have mentioned before that I'm not a particularly big fan of strip clubs, for a few reasons. But I let a friend take me to one, a couple nights later. He paid for a private dance for himself, and I thought, why not, I may as well do the same. Maybe it would give me a chance to ask the dancer if she had any friends who were into BDSM and dominance. I asked her. She said no, and then I was kind of embarrassed for asking, wondering if she now thought I was some kind of creep. (Part of the reason I'm not into strip clubs: The girls do actually tend to think that about most of the guys who go there.) The girl, a hot athletic honey blonde, got up on my lap and started grinding against me. Well, under normal circumstances- I had had lap dances before- this wouldn't have been a problem but after nearly 19 days of pent up spunk, it was too much. As she rode me, I orgasmed myself, cumming in my pants just like a toddler peeing himself, to my deep embarrassment. I blushed, and actually apologized to her. She just smiled and said it was okay. I guess that kind of thing isn't that uncommon. I really didn't intend for my self-enforced chastity to end that way, but that's how it went.
In the subsequent years, I've tried it a couple other times and have gone as long as ten days, and as before, the longer I go the more open I am to more extreme forms of BDSM play. You could even call it a sub-frenzy, to use the proper term. So to those of you lucky enough to have a real keyholder/partner, that make it through a whole month of denial and lock-up- I salute you. I can only imagine how docile you must be at her command, and how powerful that release must be once you have earned it.
She stopped by this weekend. I was working at an arts event, manning a table. She knew I would be there, of course, so it wasn't a surprise or random encounter.
It has been nearly a year. Seeing her was bittersweet. Her smile was as radiant as ever. Her warm, bubbly personality as sweet as ever. She even gave me a hug. We caught up on things. I told her what I had been working on, what I had been doing. Various art projects, hiking in the mountains, more mundane work-related stuff. She told me the same kind of stuff.
We'd gone out three or four times. By then I realized I had kind of a crush on her. A vanilla crush, much like a young school kid, longing for the times when I could just hold her hand, look into her eyes, kiss her, and hope for something more.
I always wonder what I did wrong, for her to break it off. She never told me. At the time, I only told her, "I hope it wasn't because of anything I said, or did." "Oh no...it isn't, It isn't that at all," she said, reassuringly. I don't remember any awkwardness, or any strange reactions to something I said, or certainly, no arguments or heated disagreements.
She was, of course, very vanilla, almost frigidly so, in spite of her warm, sweet personality. Although I longed to kiss her, and for it to lead to something more, I never got to. She just didn't seem to have the same passionate, romantic spark I felt. I certainly never let any of my "kinky" side show, and I wasn't about to. She was the one for whom I would bury those "kink" feelings forever, never to let them out, because I wanted nothing more than to be with her and enjoy her for who she was. So whatever it was that made her break it off, it wasn't anything like THAT. I certainly tried to do everything right, treat her like a queen, show her a good time, do all those things a gentleman is supposed to do when he takes a woman out, and I thought that I did. Where did I fail? Only she knows that, and when I saw her the other day, I didn't ask. I don't think it is really the right thing to do anyway.
But yet, it was good to see her. It really was. She looked good. Radiant, sweet. She was by herself and if she was seeing anyone else, she didn't mention it. I honestly wasn't expecting her to stop by, as I had thought it would be awkward but it wasn't. It was, however, bittersweet. I hope she finds happiness wherever and with whoever she goes.
Thanks for sticking around to read this, what probably sounds like some kind of junior high melodrama to most of you. I guess we never outgrow our need for romance.
Ever been to a great concert, fun party, or huge festival, full of good, positive energy?
Most of us cherish those feelings. Just joyful people, smiling, walking around, celebrating, laughing, and having a great time. Up until 2020, I think everyone took that for granted, until it was gone. Dark times make you appreciate the light.
The weekend before last, two big festivals happened in my town, and there was another one this past weekend. I was working at one of them as a vendor, and the other one, I just went and enjoyed it on my own, but both times were just tons of fun.
The day after the event was over I went back down to the park. It was empty, the tents and vendors had cleared out, the bands had long quit playing and packed up, and the crowds were gone. But yet, somehow I still felt the afterglow, the good energy, and the positivity lingering in that space. I think we should strive to carry these kind of feelings with us, even if we can't stay there forever. Remember the positive joyful feelings that linger in joyful places, and keep a piece of it inside us if we can.
My soft limits: Electro-stimulation, hard/heavy corporal, public humiliation.
My hard limits: Sounding, permanent scaring/modification, castration...and Meth!
Both the drug, and the people involved with it.
There is a saying: There are two possible options for a submissive who claims they have no limits. One is that the won't be taken seriously. The other is...that they will.
And neither outcome is necessarily positive.
And on another note, this past weekend was Pride Festival here in town. I was working at another event that was taking place at the same time, and unfortunately couldn't be at the actual festival, but there was definitely some overlap between the two crowds. At one point, I saw an interesting couple walk by: A beautiful voluptuous woman, with dyed magenta hair accompanied by a guy; petite, submissive, and wearing fishnets under his tiny shorts. I didn't know what their relationship was and didn't want to ask. I felt it would have been too personal. I'd like to THINK that She was the mistress and he was her sub, and if so, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous, but I have no idea whether they were just friends who were attending the festival together, or whether there was any kind of kink/intimacy between them. Overall, Pride Festival by all accounts was a huge success. It makes me smile to see all the rainbow flags around town and sported by people who (like me) may not actually be GLBT but who certainly support people expressing themselves for who they are.
Our town is having their annual GLBT festival this weekend. It is an event with live music, entertainment, booths, vendors, and a parade, with a theme for acceptance and visibility for those in that community. Whether you are gay, bi, or straight, this is an event that deserves all of our support. Many of us explore our own sexualities that are not always accepted by the mainstream, so it makes me feel good to see people visibly and proudly showing off their own, able to be themselves, and express themselves. There is also a big art festival happening in town this weekend as well. I generally love this time of year, because there is so much happening, the weather has cooled off to tolerable levels but it's not too cold and ugly to be outside yet. So anyway...that's all I got.
This is pure fantasy; but it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve posted anything, so I figured it would be time for a little “Fun.”
(While I was not personally involved with this scene, I can only dream of those lucky enough to find themselves there….)
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She stood there in her dimly lit bedroom. Wearing her red leather boots, black leather push-up bra and that tiny, pleated little red miniskirt. Her beautiful tan, sexy body practically dripped with sex. And she may or may not have been wearing anything underneath that tiny skirt…
Most guys would stare in unbridled lust at the sight of a hot girl- ANY girl- dressed like that, standing in front of them, alone in her bedroom.
But for me, it was a mixture of lust, but tempered with overwhelming fear and anticipation. I’ve learned to be the most afraid of her whenever I saw her dressed that way. Fearful, and yet excited by the dark places she was about to take me.
And I was not standing. I was kneeling, naked at her feet, groveling at her boots. Because that was what she had commanded me to do. And that was how it was meant to be.
Though I suppose I was not entirely naked. I still had that leash tethered around my balls. She held one end of the leash right now in her hand. The other hand held a flexible 18 inch aluminum ruler.
After an interminable silence, she finally spoke. “Stand up!”
I practically jumped to attention.
“Did I tell you to get hard? Who gave you permission to get hard?”
“I’m sorry, mistress. I can’t help it, I…”
She swatted my erect cock with the ruler. “Then your tiny, pathetic cock needs to be punished.”
“Eyes on the floor. Don’t look at me unless I tell you to.” She said then. I felt the ruler give my cock three more swats, the last one hard enough to make me double over.
“That’s better, slave. Back down on your knees.”
“One question,” she added, “Did you clean the toilet well, like I asked you to?”
“Yes, mistress.” I replied. I had, in fact, spent the last hour making sure the bathroom was utterly spotless.
“You better have! Or else…no reward for you.”
God it had been so loooonng, since she had allowed me to orgasm. My cock, caged for so long, throbbed purple and ready to burst like a sausage. How long had it been? Two weeks this time? Almost three, by my count. She was ever the merciless little tease, though.
One of her rules was, that she had to enjoy at least twenty orgasms to every one of mine. How- and with whom- she achieved them was entirely her choice of course. I knew she had had her fun though,these past two or three weeks. She had even made me watch on at least one occasion, tied up, naked, cock painfully swollen in its cage, while I witnessed one of her lovers pleasure her. Both of them together liked humiliating me. I knew my modest sexual equipment could never satisfy her. She had also made that painfully clear- pun intended.
But yet, I pleasured her in other ways, deeper ways; ways that even her most well-endowed lovers could not.
And as she dragged me into the bathroom by my cock leash, my knees painfully scraping the floor, I wondered what that would entail this time.
On the tile counter was a large dildo. Grabbing it, holding it to her waist, she commanded me to put it in my mouth. I eagerly did so.
“Did I see any hesitation, slave?” She asked.
“No, mistress.” I said eagerly.
She slapped me. “Suck it harder, then. Take it all the way down.”
I began to slurp it, sucking it eagerly, wanting it, needing that cock, and hoping I was doing it well enough to satisfy her.
“Craig’s is bigger than this!” she laughed. “And I bet you would like to satisfy Craig wouldn’t you. In fact, why don’t you pretend you are me, and this is Craig, and you just want to make that cock explode in your mouth. Wouldn’t you like that?”
I couldn’t speak, mouth being full of plastic penis, but I hoped my eyes conveyed the eagerness my mind still balked at.
“After all, that is why I’m training you to do this. Since your tiny and pathetic little cock can never satisfy me, that’s why I have Craig, and Tim, and DeMurray. Maybe next time they are over, you can be a little more thankful for them satisfying your Mistress for you!” She sneered. Meanwhile I kept sucking, sucking, blocking everything out of my head but the need to do a good job- to please her.
After several minutes, she pulled it out of my mouth.
“Good little slut.” She said. "Now, lick my boots. Clean them for me.”
Eagerly, I began licking her boots, tasting the black leather, enjoying the power and radiance of her standing over me. I could smell her, smell how sexy she was, that hot girl smell mixed with leather- it was almost overpowering. My cock began to drip with pre-cum. I prayed she wouldn’t notice, but alas- she did.
“Stand up. Face the wall!” she commanded. “Don’t you DARE cum without permission!”
“You just cleaned this floor. Now look at it! There’s a drop of cum on my clean floor!” she cried.
“I’ll clean it again, mistress.”
“Oh, I know you will…but first you need to be punished. Face the wall, Slave!”
I obeyed her, trembling. This was the part I had so dreaded. She clipped my arms into cuffs hung from the ceiling, and legs into the leg irons she had made me rig up in a similar fashion, completely immobilizing me.
She began to spank me. The ruler stung, sharp, each slap feeling harder.
“You don’t DARE drip cum from your PATHETIC cock onto my floor!” she screamed. The whaps were coming harder and faster now. I could almost take no more but I had to be strong, endure it, for her. She reached for her flogger. The thick leather one, that could leave bruises if She so chose. I felt two, then three huge thuds and I cried out for each one. The safe word was almost at my lips. I didn’t want to disappoint her, I wanted to endure it and be strong for her, but I didn’t know how much more I could endure. But it was then that she granted me a reprieve. I was trembling, exhausted, in pain but yet sweet bliss. I had endured her worst, and yet now I felt I would do still more…all for her.
"I guess that will do slave. Are you sorry?
"Yes mistress! I am so sorry!"
She uncuffed me.
“On your knees slave.” She said. “Did you really clean the toilet like I asked? And did you do a good job?”
"Yes, Mistress."
“Let’s see how good of a job you did. Kneel in front of the bowl.” I crawled two feet over and did so.
“Lift the seat!” she ordered. As a rule, the seat was never left up in her house. I had rather quickly learned not to commit that cardinal sin.
“Now…Lick the rim. And the dry part of the bowl. If it’s as clean as you say, you won’t have a problem doing that, will you, slave?”
“No mistress.” Almost out of my mind now, I felt compelled to obey. My tongue tasted the cold porcelain, as I ran it around the rim and into the bowl. As gross as this was, I didn't dare disobey, and truth be told, I HAD scrubbed and disinfected it pretty thoroughly. Luckily, I thought.
“Good job slave. Now for your reward…”
“Yes mistress?”
She slapped my bare ass again.
“NEVER talk out of turn! Let me finish! So…Your reward. I know you want to cum so bad, don’t you.” She said.
“Of course, mistress!”
“Then, since as you know, your pathetic tiny cock can never satisfy me, and the seed of inferior men isn’t fit for anything else, you will relieve yourself into the bowl, so I can flush it down. You may unclip your leash and start stroking it.”
I did so. Kneeling before her commode, I eagerly began stroking my cock, which was now back at half-staff. In no time flat I was hard as a rock, though still oddly nervous and trembling from the rush of enduring her punishment.
I heard her command me, “Stroke it harder! Faster, slave!” and that got me going.
In that moment, I was no longer me. I was Craig, DeMurray, Tim, and all of her lovers at once, imagining myself in their place, taking her like a man, enjoying the feel of thrusting into her delicious tight, tan body in that tiny little skirt. I could actually hear her moan and giggle as she watched me. I was her lover, I was imagining her moaning, screaming with pleasure and twitching under me, just like I had seen her in real life as a caged up slave with her lover, but now… then, it was all too much, and I felt my body begin to shake. Weeks’ worth of pent up sexual frustration all exploding at once. Gushing like a geyser, spurt after glorious spurt, into her….
….into her cold porcelain toilet bowl. Reality came crashing back to earth. This was my place, on my knees, before a genetically and intellectually superior woman. Wow, I loved her. The feeling that came over me was indescribable.
She laughed and moaned with delight. “Lick it up, slave!” she ordered. I leaned into the bowl, felt her boot at the back of my head push me in. She would not be completely satisfied until she saw me lick up every last bit of jizz.
Later that night, cuddling in each other’s arms, I thanked her for taking me to places I had never imagined. Her, satisfied and glowing, and me, basking in the warm afterglow of sub space, with the woman of my dreams who had taken me there.
Part 1:
The other night I had a dream. It was dark, the middle of the night, but we were all out on the flat part of the street where we all grew up together. All of us kids again, 10, 11, 12- all together. We were riding our bikes up and down the street, onto and off of people's driveways, play jousting, playing tag, or lining up and riding single file, playing "follow the leader." Just being kids on bikes again, like we did so long ago:. Pat*, Jesse, Dennis, Curt, my brother and me, even Jon Dzeng who used to live next door to Dennis and Pat, and who I haven't seen or thought about in 40 years since he moved away. Except it was just us, and we were like ghosts- in the dead middle of the night, all the adults were asleep, and we could, just for a short time, be the whole gang together as kids once again. Everyone has long since grown up, moved on, had kids of their own, and we will likely never see each other again, at least in this life- and Dennis has already left even that behind. And the other kids, even their parents no longer live in that neighborhood. But I'd like to think that somehow, every one of those guys somehow had the same dream that night, and so we really WERE together; and this dream was a shared reality for all of us together, as unlikely though that would be. That would have been nice.
(*obviously I'm not gonna use their real names on an adult-website blog, silly.)
Part 2:
The other day, I took a drive, back to the town where I had gone to college and spent much of my formative early adult years. I saw a friend, we went out for lunch, went on a walk, stopped off at the pet store. But afterwards, on the way home, I swung by our old house. It was an old Victorian, built clear back in 1890, which five of us- three guys, one girlfriend- all rented and lived in. Back in the day, this place was full of fun activity. Big groups of us played volleyball on the front lawn, sometimes up to five or six on a side. In the house, a refrigerator had been converted with a CO2 tap into a keg dispenser so the beer was always flowing- usually kegs of Budweiser, Pabst- that sort of beer, maybe once in a while we'd splurge and get Weinhards, But we were young and in college so it was fine. People would stop by and hang out. Good friends; we were never lacking for fun people to hang with. Parties would happen, sometimes with hundreds of people, till the floor of the house was literally shaking with happy, joyous kids in their college years. Once in a while, like the time we had our friend's band Morbsweeper* play outside in the yard, the neighbors would complain, but it was a mostly industrial area so we really didn't have that many neighbors. And in any case, we'd always let them know they were invited over, too. We did not want to be some exclusive frat house type place. (And by the next party, the band was indoors in the living room.) Overall, there was laughter, and good times.
But now, the house stands forlorn. The entire lot, including the grassy front yard which once rang with the shouts of volleyball players, had been paved over. The place had been turned into a maintenance yard for city transit vehicles, with busses and trucks parked all around. A chain-link fence tipped with barbed wire surrounds the property. The house itself is all boarded up now, in a state of neglect and disrepair. The paint has peeled off the sides of the house, and even the bright red and blue trim is faded and sad. This house, full of happy memories, is now in the throes of its final days as a standing structure. I suspect that within a couple years, perhaps as soon as the next time I return to the old town, it will be gone, just a memory.
I guess all good things end, don't they. Cherish the good times when you have them, people. It's okay to look back at the past, but I guess, also strive to make new good things happen today.
(*not the real name of the band, either.)