Steellover

Yesterday, I was hanging out with a vanilla friend whom I am NOT dating, but who I've known for many years. I won't go into the long back-story of how I know her, (she was dating a friend and blah blah, etc.) But the point is, we had hung out and taken her dog for a walk, and  at one point, had stopped off at the pet store.

They had a huge variety of leashes, harnesses and collars there.  Some with spikes, some leather, and most of them highly adjustable. These were meant for canines, but I could see plenty of ways these could be easily adoptable for...submissive males. Keep your man in line, keep him on a short leash, and if need be, give it a firm tug if he ever is too hesitant or unruly.

And that thought, well, it kind of got me aroused.  I was biting my tongue; I was going to make darn sure I wasn't going to say anything the least bit "Inappropriate," or, God forbid, that would possibly clue her in to some of the "naughty" thoughts I was having.  This girl is beautiful, by the way; most men, submissive or not, would still turn their heads to look at her, and most submissives would orgasm in their cock cages at the thought of her holding the other end of one of those leash/harnesses tied around their neck (or, better yet, other parts of their body.)

But, like a "good puppy," I didn't say anything. We have been good friends for years.  She doesn't know I have these kinds of feelings.  Which is fine; I actually don't want her to know.  Sometimes our most intimate desires should be saved for our most intimate partners.  Today was two good friends, having a nice walk in the woods, a good lunch, and spending a nice day together, catching up on life.  It was a good day.  

So, to get to the point of all this, if you people are looking for a source of Adult "Toys" then I might recommend looking into actual re-purposed pet gear as an alternative.  Some of those studded leashes and harnesses even look like they could cinch up tight enough to lead a partner by the "other" head (so to speak) if so desired.

Today was Goddess Fest, returning for the first time in three years (like many festivals it has taken a long hiatus, but unlike many, it was not a permanant one.)

One of my favorite local festivals. Dedicated to the power, beauty, and intelligence of women, and to the spirituality and worship of thereof. 

Not in a BDSM way, necessarily.  In fact, it's not unlike a lot of festivals- vendors, live music (mostly female acts of course) food, and so on, only the majority of the vendors were oriented towards new age spirituality, healing, art, and wholesome and positive energy.  Which is why it's always been one of my favorite summer events. Just the energy and positivity here always makes it enjoyable.  And I even saw an old friend who I hadn't seen since before lockdown. 

So yeah- a good day.  I'll keep it short this time.  Every entry doesn't need to be a wall of text.

This is all hypothetical, and told, mostly from a submissive male's perspective, in the service of a beautiful dream goddess.

She led him through the mall, by the leash around his neck.  Forcefully threw him against the nearby wall by the food court. "Face the wall." She commanded. "You will keep your EYES on ME at all times, and NEVER ogle those other girls! DONT THINK I DIDN'T NOTICE, SLAVE!" She barked. Then, reached into her purse for her paddle.  WHACK! came the paddle, hard against his buttocks.  He whimpered in pain. "I'm so sorry Mistress..."

Meanwhile, a mother and her two daughters scurried away, all three with looks of horror on their face. A young boy sitting at a nearby table said, "Why is that woman so mean?  And why does that man have a leash on?"  The father, aghast, did not even know where to begin to explain.

Then, another couple at a restaurant.  The man, kneeling adoringly in front of his mistress.  "Worship my feet. Thank you slave!" She barked.  The man, in a daze of frustrated lust combined with blissful adoration, willfully complied, oblivious to the staring couples at the table across the room- and the waiter standing nearby.  There was whispers and laughter.  Then, the manager walked up, and politely but firmly asked both Mistress and slave to please leave the restaurant.

So, bottom line...these scenarios don't really work so well.  In a public place, discretion is the better part of kink.  Kids, and members of the general public, probably aren't really ready to be unwilling participants in a public humiliation/discipline scene.

But yet...there are scenes in public that CAN work.  In a discrete way, of course.  The sub/slave could wear a short leash, not visible around his neck but around his balls, with only a small loop visible sticking out through his zippered pants.  As long as She is not blatant about it, an occasional firm tug on the short loop, in an uncrowded place, would still give him a clear message about who is in charge.  Or, he could wear clothing and jewelry that clearly indicates his position relative to Her, which a BDSM practitioner would be able to identify but a casual, perhaps more innocent, observer may not.  Even a T-shirt with a "PG-rated" saying ("Property of Ms. Julie," for example) might be okay.  And what he wears UNDER his clothes, of course, is entirely up to Her wildest imagination.  

There are some settings where it might be okay to push the envelope as far as public play.  We're not talking Temple Square in downtown Salt Lake City, of course!  In some cases, going too far with "Freaking out the Squares" could even get you in trouble with the cops!  But rather, places where "adult play" is more socially accepted and- key point- there are no minors or family types around.  For example, nude beaches, strip clubs, even some bars.  Some ideas: Make him wear tiny slutty shorts, or even fully cross dress (in some bars or settings this might be acceptable.)  Take him to a male strip club and openly flirt with the other men in front of him, and maybe buy him a lap dance and force him to enjoy it (and pay for it, too.)   I have even heard of more extreme scenarios, planned out in advance of course, where She forces Her plaything to work a glory hole - and subsequently and submissively service one of her acquaintances, (for safety's sake it would have to be her acquaintance)  Or, if ever She feels he needs to be corporeally punished, drag him to a private area, away from private eyes, and administer it where no family-with-kids types will see it.  If there is a known "Kink-friendly" bar or play space around- so much the better!  Then, it's, Mistress, do your worst... But sadly such places are few and far between in the heartland cities.  

But the key thing is, there are ways that these public scenes can happen in ways that do not disrupt the "Squares," families and kids going about their daily lives.  It's just a matter of the setting and the surroundings, and the way in which it is planned- Her wickedest imagination can know no bounds.

It's been a couple weeks since I've written anything.  Luckily it's not like I'm a weekly newspaper columnist, or I'd be fired.  Plus, no respectable newspaper would publish this stuff anyway. I'm kind of new at this blogging stuff and don't know if I will keep it up forever, but once in a while I'll still try to post something.  I've been busy with various other projects, too- plus, it's summer.  Too nice out to sit indoors and type all day.

So... anyway, When you hear people say, "I believe in God" or "I am a Christian" then so often, people roll their eyes.

I can't say I blame them. Sadly, these days, when you say you are a Christian and a God-Believer, people immediately assume all sorts of things:  "You must be against such and such, then."  "You must be against sex, hate gays, vote Republican, and think women (and sometimes, minorities too) should know their place."  

But yet, that does not describe me at all!

It's like, so many of the most vocal self-proclaimed "Christians" often are against the very things Jesus preached about.  And that's important to remember.  These people who claim to be talking about God, are NOT God themselves, any more than I am.

Why do I feel the way I do?  I'll try to explain.

When I am in the mountains, by a high mountain lake, pristine, rocky and beautiful, with tiny wildflowers blooming, I feel a presence of light and joy, and am grateful for this glimpse of heavenly perfection.

I remember as a kid, in the winter, when it was dark, rainy and cold out, coming home and being greeted by my parents at the door, walking into a warm and dry house to sit next to the fire.  And feeling, this is what being with God is like.  It's like, coming home to a welcoming and loving place after being tired, hungry and cold.

It's like seeing the smile, the sparkle in Her eyes, of the woman I love. Making her happy and feeling her happiness.

I remember being a neighborhood volunteer; we had a grant from a local organization that provided us free burgers, food and ice cream, and putting on a free barbecue in the courtyard of these low income apartments with refugees from all over the world.  In addition to games and entertainment we put on for them. Kids of all races, laughing, squealing with joy, and seeing the smiles on their faces light up when we served them their free ice cream.

It's seeing the perfection in a tiny snowflake, or the huge glassy beauty of a large perfect quartz crystal mined in Brazil sitting in a museum, and wondering at the perfect architecture that created them.  

It's feeling signs of hope in trying times.  The rainbow outside of my office window that day in March of 2020, the last time I would look out of that office window for more than a year. Perhaps one of the darkest years most of us have experienced in our whole collective lives.

Being comforted in dark times, and providing hope and comfort to others. 

These things are all manifestations of God.

Sadly, knowing what the absence of God is has also driven me closer to Him over the years.  I don't want to go into it too much, but any time there is pain, fear, hatred, darkness, oppression and injustice, there is an absence of God.

People who preach that homosexuals should be put to death- that is an absence of God.  Those who claim to be "Faithful Christians" but yet support environmental destruction, unchecked greed and power, and contempt for minorities or the poor- that is an absence of God. Those who have utterly no compassion for women, and say a young girl must carry their rapist's baby to term, and while we're at it, let's slash health care for single mothers too- that too is an absence of God. Despite what they may call themselves.

And whether you believe His death meant anything more than just some rabble-rouser was executed by the government of the time: The fact that he believed that His death would open the door for all of us to reach these higher planes, to these dimensions of infinite light and joy, secure from fear and darkness, or people who- even the best of us- aren't always perfect a hundred percent of the time- that to me is powerful.  So I cling to that. 

Because I've seen reflections of those dimensions here, and I've tried, not always successfully, (and man have I sometimes struggled,) but I've tried to be a reflection of that myself.

I hope this hasn't come across as some kind of religious rant.  I don't mean it to be.  Partly I'm writing this because lately, I've seen so much darkness in this world in the guise of "religion," and I don't believe God himself ever wanted it to be that way.  I want to believe in light, joy, and a welcoming place to come home to, after being tired on a cold, dark winter night.

Sometimes typing these up feels like writing essays. Funny enough, as a kid, I hated writing essays. This, on the other hand...I admit I had fun typing up this one.

So hopefully I'm not being graded here...

So, this is an essay about...Role playing.

Consider this scene:

In Mistress Si'Mone's Dungeon, Skyrizzi the thief listens at the door, but hears nothing. "All clear," he whispers.
So Vraylar the Dwarf and Sir O'Tezla of Primalast burst in...but immediately three ogres surround them! A roll indicates they have been surprised. "It's an ambush!" Vraylar cries. "Nothing on my skin, that's my new plan," Skyrizzi says to the game keeper, as he sneaks around the monsters' flank preparing for a back-stab attack. Eloquiss the mage barely has time to ready his fireball spell. Humera prepares a spell to lower their foes' ability to fight infections. Meanwhile Vraylar and O'Tezla prepare for some intense sword-playing action.

Several die rolls later, the three ogres have been vanquished. Vraylar and O'Tezla have wounds that need tending, so Humera the priest casts Cure Serious Wounds on each of them. Eloquiss gives each a healing salve, and after a search of the area, Skyrizzi discovers a pouch containing 124 gold pieces, and a jeweled amulet with mysterious properties that even Humera's arcane knowledge cannot fathom. (However, he soon realizes that Abbvie may be able to help.)

If only making money was that easy in real life. So, what's all this about?

When we were kids, we loved role playing games. I still have the old hard-cover editions of the Players Handbook and Monster Manual- the vintage first editions (the one with the big orange statue thing on the cover of the Players Handbook) and a pile of those polyhedral shaped dice somewhere. It's probably all boxed away at my parents house. Maybe I'll dig it out next time I'm out that way. We had hours of fun, after school, weekends, evenings with too much soda and popcorn (When we were too young for adult beverages. In college, standard gamer's fuel was Pabst and microwave corner-store burritos.) Though, through often questionable interpretations of the rules, our youthful characters almost inevitably grew to be hundredth level demi-gods with super powers, who could kill red dragons with a wave of their hands, because...why not, we were kids and it was fun to play super-heroes.

At some point though, typically when we got to high school, Dungeons and Dragons almost immediately became deeply uncool. Even a lot of the kids who had loved playing it as seventh and eighth graders now found it "nerdy." It was always weird how that happened. One minute it was what all the cool kids did, the next minute, if you liked D&D, you were some kind of geek, a social reject who wasn't cool enough to hang with the cool kids anymore. Some of us though, we still remained "closeted" Dungeons and Dragons freaks.

By college and beyond, occasional D&D campaigns would happen among various groups of friends. Only a few things were different. For one, we didn't care if we were "geeky" in fact, by college a lot of that stuff had kind of blown over anyway. Our game groups were a mix of the stoner types, hippie types, metalheads AND even a few of the more stereotypical nerds- all mixed together. The games were different too. It was more ROLE playing, becoming engrossed in the story line and the actual plot. The "Dungeon Master" (or game keeper, whatever they call it now) would put more work into actually coming up with a plot, and other fictional people for the players to engage with and interact with. And so, the characters got to do more than just roll a die once in a while. You were actually doing more real "Role Playing." In fact that was one reason a lot of our teenage and pre-teen D&D games got boring- "open door, kill monster, get treasure, repeat until you've cleared out the entire dungeon." It eventually became nothing more than just a die rolling contest. Playing it as a grown-up was more of an interactive storytelling experience, where everyone could really get engrossed in the whole plot and it wasn't just pointlessly hacking your way through a dungeon filled with random monsters.

The only problems that would ever arise is that sometimes the game would be so popular among our social circle, that too many people would want to join in. An ideal gaming session should be four to six players, certainly no more than seven- and a game master. Any larger than that, and the game sessions would devolve into nine or more people all jabbering at the Dungeon Master at once, or arguing with each other, and after a three hour session, barely anything would be accomplished in the plot- maybe we'd get through one battle scene, and that's it. So one lesson we learned- if you guys ever decide to get into role playing games; keep the group size manageable. 5-7 players (including the dungeon/game master) is perfect.

Way back when we used to play, and this hasn't been since around 2000-2001 or so, the game was still in it's second iteration of the rules. I believe now it is on it's fourth or fifth iteration of the rules, and the game is so changed that I bet even Gary Gygax (the guy that created the game in the early 1970s) probably wouldn't even recognize it. If I was ever to join in a game today, I'd probably have to re-learn the game all over again. For one thing, from what little I do know of the "New" system, there is a character class called an "Ardent." Like, we had wizards, thieves, fighters, priests, druids, even Paladins...but what the heck does an "Ardent" do? Use his mind powers to slay "Apathetics?" And is "Apathetic" a character class now, too? Or what about a "Constipator" or a "Phallatizer?" I dunno- fifth edition rules are weird. If my Stage Six Ardent now needs to only score an 8 on the QR Code to impact a Vulnerability Class C Half-Wookie Constipator, who is at Status 19, then I guess my character is pretty powerful. Or something.

But if you have no idea what I'm talking about, then don't worry, neither do I... I don't know Fifth Edition rules!!

Or, if you find role playing games just aren't your thing, then I promise I'll talk about something else next time. I briefly dated a girl who said she used to make fun of Dungeons and Dragons players during game sessions, to the annoyance of the people who actually playing. (They forgave her though, because she was really beautiful.) To each their own.

I am, thankfully, not in a dark place at the moment, at least  not me, personally. I would not say that my life is perfect or that everything is perfect all the time.  I am actually filled with grave concern for the future, and where as a society we are headed.  But right now I think I am doing okay, which will make this easier to write and hopefully not come across as too angry or whiny.

Because I think most of us may be in the same boat, to some degree.  2020 was a very dark place, for the world, for everyone.  2021 got off to a bad start and was a little better, but still dark in many ways.  But the long days and months of isolation, boredom, loneliness, and despair have taken their toll on people in ways that may be visible but maybe not as evident. I know that, living alone, I suffered greatly from despair, as what I had thought would be a few short weeks of lockdown stretched into months, and then those months stretched into well over a year, nearly two:  No social events, no family gatherings, no concerts, carnivals, events, everything cancelled, and all those things that keep us all connected, bring us joy, keep us human, were gone.  Perhaps even living with someone in your own bubble would be difficult after a while, without those connections, save as intermittent squares on a computer screen.

I think in a way, many people, in fact this whole country, is still in a dark place. I don't want to get super political, lest I come across as some kind of partisan hack.  But I get concerned when I see ideas which, just a few years ago would have been considered irrational and even worse, highly toxic to a free and civilized society, gain legitimacy.  I get concerned when I see people who are at best, narcissistic bullies, and at worse, toxic, hateful, spiteful and ignorant people- the types who would have been dismissed as angry crackpots only a few years ago, being elected to public office despite openly spouting these toxic and hateful opinions. 

I am not pointing fingers at only one side here, so I will deliberately avoid mentioning any specific names and/or political parties; because I am sure there is plenty on both sides. Instead, I will focus on how we got here.

How did our once civilized dialogue become so toxic and irrational?  

Through Teams.  Okay, maybe not through the meeting application called Teams, but well, I won't say that wasn't a part of it, in a sort of aside kind of way.  But when people are forced into silos, disconnected from everyone else, and normal human interaction can no longer take place, people withdraw into these silos.  And so they go online, chasing their own rabbits down rabbit holes, looking for like-minded people.  And online, they find them.  But  they quickly come across people who are even more extreme, and more disconnected from reality, and so eventually they themselves become disconnected from reality.  Websites sprout up, claiming to be "The News," or "The Truth" but these sites really serve to make money off this appetite for increasingly extreme propaganda. To the point where it is no longer even a requirement to tell the truth.  During quarantine, I remember coming across so much blatant disinformation online- about the pandemic, the vaccines, the 2020 election- that I was driven to despair.  Because these online sites not only feed on paranoia and the baser impulses of human nature, but also seek to rally people to action.

So then "Truth" becomes subjective, no longer absolute.  How many times, for example, can an obvious falsehood be debunked through repeated investigations, before people finally accept it as false?  An infinite number of times, and not only that, people who are caught in these rabbit-hole silos will even commit acts of violence to defend that falsehood.

And now, people look at civil society as "my team" versus "your team." Ideas are not so much constructive, as much as designed to "Own the Libs" or "Piss off the Right Wingers."  Now, tolerance and acceptance has become a dirty word, "Woke," and compromise and cooperation is weakness.  Because it's all about "Support your team."  Lets go fly our flags with our politician's name on them, and drive up and down Main Street annoying our neighbors, like a bunch of Raiders fans driving through downtown Denver honking their horns. (Or Packers fans doing the same in the waterfront district of Chicago.) 

I believe much of this incivility stems from people simply being too isolated, too unable (as much as unwilling) to sit and have real face to face conversations with our neighbors, un-masked, and have real, rational discussions where we respect each other. Real conversations, not on Teams, not on Zoom.  Instead, with too much time on our hands, we chased our rabbit holes and found only darkness, people all too willing to prey on fear and base emotions, and capitalize on them.  The websites did it, now our politicians are doing it too.  And so here we are.

The way out of this is- get off line and actually start having conversations again.  Become engaged again.  Learn to recognize when people are planting the seeds of fear and paranoia, and resist. Fight back and counter the disinformation and blatant non-truths with logic and reason.  And learn compassion and respect again. Stand up against hate and discrimination, but that is not enough; learn to recognize when you are being manipulated to think that way; being controlled by fear, or controlled by a sense of "Join our team and help us own the libs/right wingers."

Stay out of rabbit holes, and rejoin the bright sunshine world.

I don't mean to make this too political so sorry if it is.  It's really part of a larger thing I've witnessed over the past two years.

The story described below is fictitious, but bear with me, I'm going somewhere with it:

_____________________________

It had been two weeks since Cam had orgasmed in Her presence.  Two long weeks of frustration and longing.  Cam's balls ached to cum, sex was all he could think of and it was driving him to distraction.  So much so that she promised him that night, "Tonight, you will earn your release.  But only if you do one thing for me.  After all, remember our agreement, I get to have twenty orgasms to every one of yours. And I get to have them in any manner, and with whomever, I so choose.  So will be a good slave for me tonight?"

"Yes Mistress," Cam replied.

_____________________________

Later that evening, Cam was on his knees in front of Her. His cock uncaged for the first time in weeks, he had a raging hard-on at the sight of Her, looking so naughty in Her tiny little plaid skirt, and knee-high leather boots.  She wasn't wearing anything under that skirt, and even the smell of Her body was driving Him wild.  His cock was at full staff...

....but looking positively puny in front of Her lover, who stood next to Her, his equipment- nearly ten inches- also at full staff.

"You remember our agreement, right?" She barked.  "Do it then.  Get him nice and hard for me.  Fluff him.  You know you want it." She laughed. 

Her lover laughed too.  "Guess you're gonna be my suck boy, while I fuck your girlfriend, right?"  He sneered.  Cam was trembling.  After all this, could he really do this?

Leah reached around and grabbed his head, directing it at Erik's huge erect manhood.  "Go on then, slave.  That's right.  Put it in your mouth.  Like We practiced.  Do it for me.  Get him hard, and maybe I'll let you clean us both off afterwards.  And if you do your job well slave...Maybe you'll get your reward too." she whispered this last seductively. 

But then She barked, harshly, "Suck it slave!"  Cam felt Her flogger thwack his back.  She must have grabbed it off the bed when he was focused intently on the task in front of him, he thought.  

Gingerly, he steeled himself and grabbed Erik's penis, drawing it close to his mouth.  Slowly, he wrapped his mouth around it.  The taste...oh God, was he really doing this?  Erik's member filled his mouth, probing him, and forced it's way to the back of His throat.  It was gagging him, but he resolved to get it over with  and began slurping, bobbing his head up and down against Leah's lover's cock. The humiliation was surreal, but the thought of that gorgeous, huge cock about to satisfy Her, was like a dream.  He had not gotten to actually penetrate her (except with his tongue) in many months, so perhaps he could live vicariously through Erik this night.  Finally, after several minutes, Erik pulled his cock out of Cam's mouth, shaking. Cam gingerly swallowed the salty taste of pre-cum.  This was the first time he had tasted any that was not his own.  "Geez, that bitch of yours gives good head!  I almost came!" Erik said.  To which She replied, "That's why he gets to do it- After all, he knows that tiny little thing of his can never satisfy me!"

But later that night, when he finally orgasmed in front of his beautiful, majestic Goddess, the power and intensity of his release was like nothing he had ever imagined before.  Afterwards, he lay there at Her feet, panting and in a blissful head space.

___________________________________

This story is totally fictitious of course.  But yet, it brings me to my point, This isn't that uncommon a fantasy of submissive men, especially those who are into the more erotic and less- painful /masochistic side of BDSM.  

But why?  This is what I'm getting to:  Many assume that it's because these submissive men have repressed homo-erotic or bisexual fantasies and want a woman to help them fulfill these fantasies. While sometimes this is the case, usually it's for either one of three reasons, or a combination of them.

For one, there is the intense feeling of reveling in the absolute power of a dominant partner, and the desire to do anything to please them, and the more taboo and extreme, the better to experience this head space.  Erotic humiliation, being "Used" for Her pleasure, are a huge turn on, and it's much the same for other extreme BDSM activities that many kinky guys find arousing- it is the idea of being subjected to humiliating, degrading or taboo things for HER pleasure that gives the sub HIS pleasure.

And the second thing, is the voyeuristic aspect.  Like in the above example, Cam living vicariously through Her lover, getting to watch Her be pleasured, seeing Her satisfied is part of the turn-on, almost as if it really was him in Her lover's place.

And the final reason goes hand in hand with the first two:  Part of it is a feeling, whether valid or not, that he cannot sexually satisfy Her, but yet, out of love and obedience, he still wishes to see Her get sexually satisfied. Perhaps he is, in fact, a good, well trained lover, but Her needs are far greater than one man, even the horniest and most virile, to satisfy alone.  Or perhaps, like the above relationship, She loves, adores and cherishes him, but uses Her bull for her sexual needs- and nothing else, and this is simply part of the accepted dynamic of their relationship.  As long as it is mutually consensual, then it works for both of them, but of course there would need to be plenty of communication before such a scenario could evolve. 

But I post this in order to dispel the common myth that forced bi/cuck and bull scenarios are purely the product of men with repressed homoerotic fantasies.  Most of the time, these men would never willingly have any kind of sexual relationship with another man, they have no desire to. Rather, it is their HETEROsexual desire of their partner, that leads them to engage in taboo behavior for their partner's sake.

And finally, before I end this lengthy wall of text post, I've always been curious as to how many women are genuinely interested in a cuck-and-bull scenario as described above. If they are, do they actually get a turn-on by their husband/boyfriend actively watching and participating, or do they prefer to "Cheat" in private?  I know this is not that uncommon among submissive and sexually adventurous men, but I've been wondering how many women actually find these scenarios "hot."  

So, I tried sharing a personal, and very powerful, sexual experience on here in my last post...and I don't think it went over too well. 

It maybe was TOO personal, and, powerful and real though it may have been, it was maybe a bit too explicit.  So for that, I apologize. 

Sexuality, especially "alternative" sexuality like many of us here enjoy, is a very personal thing.  What can be the single most intense thing ever for one person, can be the biggest most gross-out turn-off for someone else.  

For me, sub-space is like a drug; you can have the most intense rush ever and spend the rest of your life chasing that high.  But that's all I have to say; I promise I will try to keep this, well, more tasteful.

On another note, I have read a lot of discussions on various forums about what a "Real" submissive is.  Rather than answer this right away, here are three hypothetical examples:

Slave Bob lives at his dominant's home.  His dominant is his world and only contact. He spends the entire day cooking and cleaning for his superior and running errands for him (or her). All money he earns goes right to his dominant.  It is a live-in, 24/7 arrangement.  Though there is corporal punishment for his mistakes, any sex- kink or otherwise, is not part of the equasion.  He sleeps in a bed in the basement, and works round the clock for his dominant.  He has a brand and tattoos specifically stating that he is property of his dominant, and wears a collar at all times.

Example 2:  Mildred sees Master Jim regularly, three times a week at least.  When Jim snaps his fingers, She does whatever He wishes- sexual or otherwise.  There are no limits, nothing she won't do for him. He controls every aspect of her life, but she is fine with this.

Example 3: Todd's girlfriend Lynne likes dressing him up in a French maid uniform and making him suck a strap on.  She ties him up for her amusement- and his- and sometimes even spanks him.  In the bedroom, it is clear that Lynne calls the shots.  But yet, in public, they appear to be a normal couple. She may make many decisions for him and clearly has the upper hand in the relationship, but yet Todd still has his hobbies, life, friends, and job- but when in private, he makes sure Lynne is happy and satisfied, doing all of those things a good and loyal husband/boyfriend and gentleman would.

There are many more examples, but- I think all three of the above are "Real" submissives, even if they are submissive to a different degree.  Because every relationship is different and has a different dynamic.  So much of this is about finding the right dynamic that fits for both parties.  Would I want a 24/7 live in full time slave relationship?  I would have to say that probably isn't for me.  While many submissives would gladly give of themselves to their dominant, that doesnt mean they need to surrender every aspect of their lives and personal identities. In a BDSM relationship, I would still need time for my hobbies, friends and job- "me" time, so to speak.  But that doesn't mean that I am less of a "Submissive" than Todd, or Mildred, in the above examples.

I guess I'll stop by saying that, May everyone of you out there find the right relationship that works for you- find that perfect submissive, or that dream dominant, and may it work.

So far, most of what I have posted has been pretty "Dry."  Part of the reason is, I don't want this whole thing to just be one wank fantasy after another, but this IS an adult- content themed blog after all.  So hopefully, maybe once in a while it is okay to spice things up a bit.

This is NOT a fantasy, but it is reliving one of my most vivid and intense sexual experiences I have ever had with a professional domme. She was the real deal, but as I have mentioned, because she was a pro, ultimately her main kink, and perhaps only true one, was nothing more than financial domination, and so the relationship was not sustainable.  I've talked about that before so I won't go into it further.

She had told me after one session to train my virgin asshole.  As a relatively virile and active heterosexual guy, of course I had never been penetrated before, and thus, I was a true anal virgin.  Anyone who has "played around" like this knows that if you immediately start with a ten inch plastic pal, not only will it be incredibly painful, but possibly do some lasting damage. You have to work up to it.

So I started at home, with silicone rubber plugs and plenty of lube.  At first, the middle sized (4") plug felt like too much, uncomfortable and almost painful. But before long, I got used to the sensation, once inserted, even though I could feel it, I had no problem even using the five inch plug.  Then I began to imagine myself being with Her, dressed like a young prostitute in the sluttiest of outfits, ready to service Her, to be taken, used and fucked by Her.  One day, while wearing the plug (by which time I was totally comfortable) I had even dressed in a pair of slutty shorts and fishnets, and  I imagined myself slurping on Her strap on, being told by her to suck it dry like a whore.  Suddenly the feeling of being full, coupled with this fantasy, was almost too much to bear and I almost orgasmd myself in private.  But of course, I had promised her, no cumming without Her permission; that was Her rule.

 She had bigger plugs, up to seven inches, bigger than the silicone starter kit I had, which she used on me, which stretched me even further. She was training me and working up to when I was ready for Her ultimate appendage, with which she would take me. After a couple sessions, one day, She thought I was ready.

I showed up at Her door. She was wearing the tiniest of plaid naughty schoolgirl skirts, and a black bikini bra.  I was wearing the slutty shorts and fishnets that I had worn just the other day.  She looked like every guy's dream sexual fantasy, the type of hot cheerleader that an alpha type would just throw down on the bed and take. But not me.  I could only fantasize about being one of those guys.  She liked to rub it in, saying "Your pathetic cock can never satisfy me like a real man." That, of course, only made it more intense, and my submission more complete.  I looked at her with longing desparation, but knowing would not get to fuck her.  Because today, She would fuck me. And not the other way around.

"What are you staring at. On your knees!" She commanded. I did as I was told.  "And take off those slutty shorts."  

After doing so she ordered me to massage her feet. I did so, as I was trained.  She had taught me how to properly do this, like everything else, down to the finest detail.  While I did so, I was basking in Her gorgeous, commanding presence. It would get more intense.  She led me to the bedroom, by the leash She had tied to my balls, and ordered me to kneel in front of her. She brought out a large plastic penis.  "This is what My lover looks like.  Your tiny pathetic cock can never satisfy me, so suck on this one for me."

I did so, my head bobbing up and down the plastic appendage, slurping it hungrily.  I could almost feel myself living vicariously through Her lover, imagining that being MY cock, and Her mouth on it.  She looked SOOO naughty in that tiny plaid skirt. 

"SUCK on it" Suck it!" She ordered.  I did so, harder and faster, as if I could make Her imaginary cock ejaculate in my face.

Finally after some moments, she ordered me onto the bed. Naked, ass in the air, head in the pillow, hands splayed to the side. 

She left the room, and returned with a plastic rod, nearly ten inches long and at least an inch and a quarter in diameter.  She got up on the bed, behind where I lay splayed out.  

I felt it probing me, then gasped as it slid in.  The first couple inches went smoothly. I felt the familiar feeling of fullness, but I was used to it.  This wasn't so bad.  It went in further, two more inches, and I gasped.  By now, I was starting to feel uncomfortable, like seriously being violated. "That's right, take it, like a good little slut." She whispered.  It went in even further still.  Now it began to feel like being split open, like it was actually clear up into my intestines. I had never felt so violated before.  The stretching, tearing feeling became intense. At one point I felt the sudden urge to pee badly, like I was literally going to piss the bed, but then it felt like taking a huge crap only in reverse. As she drove it in deeper, I began to moan, a mixture of both pain, discomfort, and oddly, a strange, almost peaceful ecstasy.   By now, She had buried nearly a full nine inches inside me.  I moaned louder.  At this point, she grabbed a leather flogger, and slapped me across my bare and violated ass with it.  "Quiet, slut!" she snapped. 

That was what totally sent me over the edge.  I became nothing, but a quivering pile of submission to her.  The subspace high was more intense than anything I had ever experienced, before or since. When She pulled out, I felt the usual relief, and shock at how much of her huge plastic appendage she had taken me with. She had gotten almost all ten inches inside me. She later told me she was proud of me for that.

But all I felt then was an indescribable sense of belonging- belonging to Her.  I was literally a puddle of submissive groveling goo on the floor, just basking in Her power and radiant sexuality.  I cannot describe the feeling I had at that point other than it was intense, of being taken to a headspace that was more intense and intimate than I could ever have imagined.  And being totally used, spent, violated, for such an amazing, powerful, and beautiful woman. She let me lie there for several minutes, grovelling at her feet, rubbing them lovingly.  It was all I wanted to do; I was in heaven.

"Thank you, Mistress." I said. "Thank you, THANK you so much.  You are such a beautiful and amazing Goddess. It is an honor to be Your anal slut boy."

She smiled and said, "You're welcome, slave."

So, that was, to this day, my most intense erotic experience ever. I wish I could say that it was always like that with me and my Domme, but as a professional, Her priorities were clear- get me to spend as much cash on Her as possible with as little intimacy as possible.  The relationship could not continue for long. But while it was lasted and was good- it was REALLY good.

I promise I'll be "Good" next time and write about something less "kinky." Because honestly, I bet a lot of people frankly aren't gonna be that into what I just shared above.  That's fine, too.

As I was driving home, I passed by one of the local "Girlie Bars" here in town (of which there are three.)  "Summer Bunnies- Coming Soon" the sign said. A couple of righteously hot girls were in the parking lot, presumably on smoke break or whatever.  As usual, I didn't stop in and just drove on.  I am of course, not in any serious relationship right now, and a lot of guys in my position would probably love hanging out in a girlie bar once in a while. But it's just not my thing, and I'll explain why.

First of all, let me say that I have no problem with women who wish to express themselves in this way. Women should be empowered to use their sexuality in whatever ways they see fit- and if they feel like they can earn some extra cash by working at a strip club, then more power to them.  And I don't really have a problem with guys who hang out in these places either; it's their choice.

But here's one scenario:  I was at a typical dude's bachelor party, and a few of us guys had, as per tradition, headed on down to one of the local strip clubs.  The girls were all really sexy of course, and everyone (including the groom) paid for at least one "private dance" at some point.  But one guy, older, drunk (naturally) confessed to me, as we were sitting next to the stage, that he had just spent over two hundred dollars there that night. "Oh, damn!" was my response.  I didn't know what to say, but I was thinking, "Geez buddy, at some point maybe you could have made better use of that two hundred dollars.  Like, I dunno, buy yourself more drinks, donate it it to charity, spend it on gifts for your family and kids, or spend it on an actual woman who actually wants to be with you and it isn't just her job to ACT like she wants to be with you."  But it wasn't really my place to judge the guy, after all.  This is why I, personally, don't really hang out at strip clubs very often- to each their own.

And this reason is simply, while it's nice when a hot girl grinds up against you, when you know deep down that the only reason she's doing it is because you are waving dollar bills around, it just isn't the same.  To them, you are no different than every other sweaty, sleazy drunk guy waving dollar bills at them.  To them it is all just a job, and you are just a source of income.  There is no real connection, and in the end, it is a rather empty feeling.  You may get aroused, but at the same time you feel like you are just like every other guy in the place, and are nothing but just a cash cow to be milked.

Now again, I am not saying there is anything wrong with any of this at all. It is what it is.  I suppose it's no different than buying an erotic painting or an erotic novel, or renting an adult video, I suppose.  I can only describe why, personally, hanging out in these places really doesn't do it for me. When I go out to a "normal" bar, or any social event in public, and meet someone, I like that there is always the possibility, however remote, that we will "click" and hit it off, and it will lead to a real romantic, and/or erotic adventure together.  But ironically, that possibility is almost non-existent at a strip club.  Unless (in some cases) I suppose if you are REALLY a high roller, and even then, the person who you end up with will more likely simply be a gold-digger than someone genuinely interested in you as a person.

But if you are in private, and a woman wants to give you a private dance because you know deep down she is really into you, and vice versa, that is a very powerful erotic feeling.  

I know this is a weird topic.  I hope I'm not coming across as some kind of prude here.  I'll try to post something more "BDSM-y" next time.