Making Progress

I went over to Sounder’s today.  It’s been almost two weeks since he started taking the birth control, and I haven’t seen him in about a week, so I was excited to see if there were any noticeable effects yet.

I wasn’t really expecting much.  It is a low dose of hormones, and it hasn’t even been two weeks.  But I was cautiously optimistic.

As early as a few days after he started taking the pills, he talked about his cock not working as well.  Which was expected.  The estrogen would take awhile to build up in his body, but the progestin would start fucking with his testosterone almost immediately.

So he felt like there was definite shrinkage, as well as it not being able to get hard.  In fact, he mentioned that the only time he could get hard was when I would fuck with him via text.

And that’s a definite win.

He also mentioned the possibility of growth in his breasts, but because he sees it every day, he couldn’t be sure.  But he has gained 4 pounds in two weeks, so that certainly seemed promising.

So I pulled up to his house.  After chatting for awhile, I told him to take his clothes off.  He stripped down to his panties (sexy purple lacy ones), and I grinned.

Yes, there was definitely some growth there.  It was subtle, but there was a difference.

The big difference wasn’t so much the way they looked, but the way they felt.  Sure they were slightly bigger, and he said they felt heavy, but when I reached up to grab one, I was shocked at the difference.

Sounder is fit and athletic, with a sexy body.  In the past, when I’d touch his chest, I’d feel nothing but rock-hard muscle.  So it was an extremely pleasant surprise when I groped his tits and they were soft.  Just like a girl’s.

I spent some time playing with my fun new toys.  His nipples were still recovering from my abuse of them a week ago, so I was gentler than normal, but I just loved the way they felt.

I loved the way they moved when I touched them.  I loved the contrast between the hardness of his arms, shoulders, and abs, and the softness of his breasts.  After getting to know his body so well, it was a little odd to feel something so different, so quickly.  It was more than I expected, and I was beyond stoked.

It won’t be too long before I’ll need to take him to get his first bra.  Now that he has breasts, he’s got to take care of them.  I certainly don’t want them to start sagging.

Finally, I stepped back to look at the rest of his body, particularly at his waist and hips.  “I don’t really see any other differences,” I said, stepping around behind him.

“Well, those 4 pounds had to go somewhere,” he replied.

Again, it wasn’t so much about how his body looked, but how it felt.

I stood behind him, groping him, playing with his clit, running my hands along his body.  Then, I grabbed him by his hips, and immediately noticed a big difference.

Two weeks ago, his hips were lean and hard, just like the rest of him.  I would grab him, and I’d feel his hip bones.

Tonight was a completely different story.  They felt soft, just like his boobs, and there was probably a good half an inch extra there, giving him a more feminine, hourglass figure.  It wasn’t a big enough difference to see yet, but I could definitely feel it.  His hips had never been soft before.

And touching him there, exploring his new body, was so goddamn fun.  His butt looked a bit rounder, too.  A bit perkier.  I immediately wanted to hit it with things.

So, after touching him, stroking him, and fingering him for awhile, I told him to go upstairs, that I wanted him to put on his makeup.

And he’s really gotten good at it.  The only thing he needed help with was eyeliner, which is a massive pain in the ass even for people who have been wearing makeup for years (perfect example: I had to completely wipe mine off and start over twice tonight, and I’ve been wearing makeup 4-5 days a week for the last 15-ish years).

Oh!  But I found a woman here in town, a professional makeup artist specializing in mtf transformations.  I’m so excited, I am absolutely taking Sounder to see her.  I’m good with makeup, but I am not a professional, and I’ve only ever done mtf makeup on one other person, years ago.  Sounder could definitely benefit from an experienced professional.  And for an extra fee, she’ll teach us exactly how to do it, so we can recreate the look whenever.  I’m excited to make that happen.  And I think Sounder will be really surprised to see the difference between what a professional can do and what I can do.

Sure, he looks good when I do his makeup, or when I coach him how to do it.  But with a professional, he’ll look stunning.  I can’t wait.

So he did his makeup, then put on his wig and I just did a basic style, to keep it out of his face.  I need to take him to the salon to get the wig styled one of these days.

After that, he put on his sexy black lingerie, and I bent him over the bed and started spanking him.

I have a bullwhip, that I’ve had for a bajillion years, but haven’t been able to use in half a bajillion years.  I’m damn good with it, though.  My mentor taught me by setting up a row of dominoes on a table or bench, a couple of inches apart, with the different numbers on top, 1 through 6.

Then, he’d call out a number, and I needed to hit that domino, and only that domino.  At first, he started out easy, going in order from 1 to 6 or 6 to 1.  But then he’d make it harder, like wanting me to hit 2 and 4, then the odd numbers.

Still, he wouldn’t let me touch a person with the whip until I could do that consistently.

Which is awesome, and I’m grateful he did that, because it’s so much fun being able to do that.  I can hit the head of a man’s cock over and over and over again.

If I have enough room.  And while I technically can use it in Sounder’s bedroom, I have to stand right against the wall, which doesn’t give me the room to properly aim.

All the more reason to get a dragon tail!

I switched from that to my tawse, and then to the flogger.  And I really laid into him with the flogger.  For as light as it is, it can definitely pack a punch.

His ass was nice and red and warm by then, so I switched it up and fingered him, then fucked his ass with a dildo.

And really, y’all… He looks so cute, all dressed up, in makeup, with his sexy hips and even sexier tits, with a cock sticking out of his ass.  I seriously need to get him fucked by a real man.  Soon.

I haven’t really beaten anyone like that in awhile, and isn’t it weird how you forget how good something feels?  Especially with the flogger, I loved hitting him with it.

The rest of the world just melts away, and there’s nothing but that room, with me, my flogger, and the writhing boy beneath me.  There are no plans, no agendas, no goals, it’s just me beating on someone until they just can’t take any more.

It’s a seriously awesome feeling.

So I’m extremely happy with the effects of the birth control so far, and I am absolutely looking forward to watching his body continue to change.  When I’m done, he’ll be such a sweet, sexy, feminine sissy.

The players

Since I’m all about the nicknames, and anonymity, and all that, I don’t use anyone’s real name here except my own.  But a couple of people have mentioned being confused at all the different people in my life, and the different people I write about.  So, since I’m just super organized and all (stop laughing), I figured I’d list them here.  This is every single person that has been named on my blog (I think, I might have forgotten one or two, but I’ll add to this as needed, so it’s fine).


My husband, my collared sub, and the father of my daughter.  He has some switchy tendencies, and is currently a Dom to his girlfriend.  He’s a tall, loud, intense guy, and many are surprised to find out what our dynamic is.  A lifestyle acquaintance once asked me what I call him; my Sir, my Daddy, etc.  I laughed and said, “I call him my bitch.”  I had known her for four years at the time.  He’s very intense, and I’m very laid-back, so sometimes people are surprised.  He’s a Sagittarius/Capricorn cusp, so he has the Capricorn intensity with the Sagittarius fire and force.  My best friend once said he intimidated the hell out of her.

He’s in charge of every other aspect of his life.  He runs his warehouse, he’s the driving force with his friends, and he’s the head of his family’s household (his parents, his uncle, his older sister, and her husband all live in the house next door).  He runs their finances and makes the big decisions.  His sisters defer to him, despite the fact that he’s the youngest of the three (and he’s 6 years older than I am).  Even his parents defer to him.

As strong-willed as he is, he can sometimes be a handful as a submissive, but when he melts and yields so completely to me, it’s the sweetest drug.  I love bringing that strong, powerful man to his knees.

We’ve been together since 2010, and were married late in 2014.  Our first year was a rough one, but he has that Capricorn loyalty and stubbornness to offset my rebelliousness and unpredictability, and we made it through the worst without losing each other.


My daughter, a precocious, independent, smart-ass 4-year-old who really is too smart for her own good.  She is your typical fiery Leo and she’s quick to let you know that she expects your world to revolve around her (being the only grandchild for both sets of grandparents, and spoiled out of her mind, doesn’t help).

She is about three minutes away from me duct-taping her mouth shut whenever I take her in public because she has the uncanny ability to say the worst thing (with no context) at the worst possible moment.

For example, her newest obsession is Spider Man.  He’s her new imaginary friend.  And I cannot convince her that there is a difference between a boy that is a friend and a boyfriend.  So the other day, when the cashier asked her how she was doing, she randomly blurted out, “My boyfriend sleeps in bed with me at night.”  And this is a very, very common practice.

As much as she tries to give me gray hair, though, I adore her, I think she’s fucking awesome, and I will gladly bore you to death bragging about her.


My second collared submissive, 15 years older than I am, a quiet, introverted Capricorn who lives much, much farther away from me than I’d like him to be.  Personal things have kept him off the blog until recently, and personal obligations are keeping us separated for the time being, but that will change soon.

While he good-naturedly chuckles and rolls his eyes at my obsession with astrology/spirituality/religion/fate/whatever, and patiently tolerates when I prattle on about it, there was just too much in the beginning of our relationship to call a coincidence.  Too many things fell into place at exactly the right time, too much went exactly the way we needed it to, it was like the entire Universe aligned to bring us into each other’s lives at exactly the right time, and then to bring us together exactly when it was supposed to happen.

We both broke quite a few of our personal rules by getting together, we both went completely out of character (he’s normally reserved, cautious, and slow to make emotional decisions, and I’m normally stand-offish, cold, and unwilling to let my emotions show) by getting as emotionally attached as we did, as quickly as we did.

He has an incredible gift with words, he’s delightfully smart-assy, and deliciously slutty.  Greedy, hungry, and just as insatiable as I am, we discovered early on that we have both been limited in the past by partners who never dared to go as deep, as dark, as twisted, as we wanted to go.  Now we don’t have that limitation, and I love exploring the depths of my depravity with him.


My newest submissive, a fantastic mix of sweet and sarcastic, a driven Capricorn 10 years older than I am.  He’s a hell of a lot of fun to hang out with, and to do wicked things to.  His mind is as much fun to play with as his body, and the fact that it’s normally damn near impossible to rattle him makes it even more fun to pull him off-balance.

He never does anything half-assed, and his submission to me is no exception.  I’ve often been surprised at his devotion to his service.  It takes a lot to impress me, but he’s done it quite often, both as my submissive and as a vanilla man.

I’m looking forward to seeing where our relationship goes, and how things progress.  I plan on pushing him farther than he’s ever been pushed before, in pretty much every aspect of kink.  He’s still learning just how more wicked I can be, and just how much deeper I can go.


One of my pets, a Taurus 26 years older than I am.  I don’t mean a pet in the sense of a puppy or pony or any of that.  But I have a few pets scattered all over the place, and he’s one of them.  I met him when I was a ProDomme living in Alabama.  And he was one of the very, very few reasons I was slightly bummed to come back to Vegas.

Luckily, he travels to Vegas at least once a year, so I have an opportunity to see him when he’s in town, and I always look forward to that.  Seeing him is always amazing, and he’s a lot of fun to be with, whether we’re just hanging out at the mall, or whether I’m putting things inside him and making him squirm.

We have a lot in common outside of kink, so our conversations range from sex to music to work, to really anything, and they last for hours.


A Domme friend of mine, the only person I’ve ever met with a sadistic streak to rival my own.  She taught me how to do needle play, sutures, and staples, and she’s just an awesome person all the way around.

She and her husband host play parties twice a month, and it’s a great opportunity to hang out with other people in the lifestyle, make new friends, and just have fun.


Another Domme friend, and one of the leaders of the Domme group we used to run in town.  She’s always fun to hang around with.


Sadie’s husband, and the only male Dom living that I like.  He’s quite knowledgeable in D/s, and has a sadistic streak of his own.  He taught me fireplay, and I do enjoy talking to him and hanging out with him.


One of Sadie’s play partners, and the one who volunteered to be my guinea pig when Sadie taught me needle play.  We went to high school together and were both active in theater.  He’s dating a vanilla woman, and is currently unable to participate in play, but he’s still a lot of fun to talk to.


A teenage switch under my protection.  He’s absolutely adorable, a lot of fun to hang out with, and a lot of fun to hurt.  He’s homosexual, and panromantic, and a sweet masochist that makes the cutest sounds when he’s in pain.  He was the first boy I set on fire.  Now, I’m training him to be a Dom.


Kazander’s girlfriend and submissive.

The Body:

My ex-boyfriend, an attractive, well-endowed man with no social skills.  He has no tact, and was always unintentionally condescending and rude.  And the constant nagging and hounding to get in my pants, and the whining when he wasn’t the center of my world got old fast.


One of my old play partners, a sweet boy five years younger than I am, with a fantastic sense of humor and a big heart.  He really went above and beyond my expectations time and time again, and went out of his way to serve me.

He had some pretty significant personal shit go down that would’ve messed with anyone pretty badly.  He’s an Aquarius, like me, and I know that when I’m upset, I want to be left alone.  So when he pulled away, I gave him his space.  If he decides to reach out again, I’ll of course be there for him, but I won’t push him.


Another old play partner.  He started to feel uncomfortable with the poly aspect, so it didn’t work out.

The Virgin:

An old play partner, the youngest, at 20 years old.  He’s the first male to ever touch Kazander, but the bi element I wanted in the relationship was something he wasn’t comfortable with.

The Nerd:

An old play partner, brand new to the scene, adorable and nervous and shy.  He was also ultimately uncomfortable with the bi element.


An old play partner, that I’ve actually known longer than I’ve known Kazander.  But he has proven himself to be a flake, and wanted a degree of micromanagement that I just am not interested in.


A good friend, who shares my love of Tarot, astrology, and all that fun stuff.  His ex boyfriend, Ford, asked me to carry a child for the two of them.  It didn’t work out, and thank God, because Ford went off the deep end shortly after.


Chevy’s ex boyfriend.  They had been together for 12 years, and Ford asked me to carry a child for the two of them.  It ultimately didn’t happen, and a few months later, Ford broke up with Chevy, completely out of the blue, and broke off contact with a lot of his friends.  He got ultra Christian, and ultra Republican, and I don’t really talk to him anymore.


My first serious boyfriend.  I started dating him just after I graduated high school.  He was my best friend’s dad.  I was 18, he was 44, and we dated for a year.  He pulled me out of the dark place I was in at that point and brought me back to life.


My mentor, the man who introduced me to this life.  He was a bisexual leather Daddy, a member of an Old Guard House, and very much into the leather and Old Guard subculture.  I met him shortly after joining an online BDSM chatroom when I was 16.  He was in his forties, and became my first real love (although we were never romantically or physically involved, because I was underage).

He began informally training me in the Old Guard protocol.  I never officially joined an Old Guard House, a) because of my age, b) because to join an Old Guard House, all members must start out as submissive, and c) the Old Guard culture was basically dead at that point, anyway.

We used his wife or my boyfriends as guinea pigs, and he taught me much over the course of the next three years.  Then, he and his wife moved away, and while we were always fond of each other, we sort of drifted apart.  He passed away when I was 23.

You’re doing -everything- wrong

Please teach me mistress i surrender and Need long term online training

Okay, I’m flattered that you would want to surrender to me, and would want me to train you, assuming this is coming from a genuine place.

But this sentence is painful, and everything you could have possibly done wrong, you did wrong here.

Like, it’s impressive how much wrong you crammed into this sentence.


So you either wrote that comment to be a sexist jerk and attention whore, or you simply don’t know what you did wrong.

I’m going with the second option, and to help you in the future, I’ll tell you exactly what you did wrong and how to fix it.

First of all, grammar and punctuation matter. This is the only first impression you get, and while you didn’t threaten to rape or murder me (which is an improvement over some messages I get), you damn sure didn’t blow me away with your charm and intellect.

I’m not a huge fan of the online protocol of capitalizing pronouns for Dominants, but titles, when used, really should be capitalized. The fact that you didn’t capitalize anything (except a random N) or use a single bit of punctuation makes you look lazy, and like you don’t care.

Why would I want a submissive like that? Why would I want a submissive who can’t/won’t put forth the effort required to edit and proofread a single sentence? How reliable can I expect that person to be?

You also posted this as a comment on this post, which means you either randomly picked a post from like 6 months ago because you know you’re a troll and don’t want to be embarrassed by having everyone see it (in which case, you really shouldn’t have written it in the first place), or you’ve actually read some of my blog.

But if you’ve read some of my blog (or my Fetlife profile), you know that I don’t like the use of titles by people I don’t own.  Funny enough, a post written the very next fucking day (as in, literally the next goddamn day) explicitly states that I don’t want people I don’t own to use titles when addressing me.

Don’t feel like reading that post?  Or did you happen to miss the part where I said I don’t want boys I don’t own to use titles?  Well, here ya go.

In fact, if I don’t own you, I don’t want you to call me by a title at all.  My name is Jen.

I’m not your Mistress. I’m not your Owner.

I’m a person, dude.

I’m not a fetish delivery system. And sending a message like this one, begging to serve me without a desire to get to know me, and without giving me an opportunity to get to know you, makes you come across as a sexist troll who only cares about the kinks I can satisfy for you.

Yeah, no. That’s what porn and Pro ProDommes are for. That’s not what I do.

Kinks and fetishes can be negotiated. But if I can’t stand you as a human being, there’s no getting around that.

Along that same vein, your message talks about what you need. You tell me what you want from me, you tell me the need you want satisfied, but not even a sliver of a thought is given to how you can serve my needs.

Since, you know, that’s kind of the point of a Femdom relationship.

Contrary to popular belief, talking down to you while you jerk off on cam does not serve my needs.

Even in online relationships, the sub’s job is to serve his Dominant.  Often, this is done financially.  If you can’t be there to massage my feet, pay for my pedicures so someone else can.

But it doesn’t always have to be financial.  Steel isn’t local to me, but he still serves me.  Not financially, he serves me by being my sounding board.  He patiently listens to me vent and rant, and has the unique ability to show me different perspectives without undermining my authority, and can point out if I’m possibly wrong about something without being a dick.  He’s someone whose opinion and wisdom I trust, and someone I know will drop what he’s doing when I need him.

But that’s my point.  He works to improve my life in a real way.  He uses his talents, his strengths, his skills to serve me.  In fact, when Kazander and I were at our worst, it was his skill, his ability to tactfully point out things I might have missed, that showed me how to take a big step toward saving my marriage.

So service doesn’t have to be financial.  But there does have to be some kind of service there.  And you talked about what you want without so much as a hint about what you have to offer.

More than that, you told me to teach you. There wasn’t even a question there. As if you have some kind of right or privilege to me and my time.  As if one poorly-worded message entitles you to my attention.

Fuck everything about that.

So, to recap, this message made you come across as lazy, sexist, rude, and inconsiderate.

And you haven’t yet found a Domme to serve?  What a shock.

But again, I’m choosing to assume you’re actually a good person, just new, inexperienced, and simply unaware of how you’re coming across.

So now I’ve told you what you’re doing wrong. But how do you correct those mistakes for next time?

First, read, goddammit.

Yes, reading is tedious and time-consuming. Do it anyway. Relationships take work.

The Internet gives you the unique opportunity to get to know the person you’re messaging before you message them. Take advantage of that opportunity.

Had you read the very next day’s post on my blog, you would’ve known that I don’t want you to call me Mistress.

Sounder read my blog before messaging me for the first time on Collarspace.

No, not a post or two of my blog. The. Entire. Blog.

All two-hundred-some posts.

Armed with a pretty damn good idea of who I am, what I’ll react well to, and the best way to approach me, he constructed a well-thought-out, intelligent, humorous message that stood out from the other dozen or so I’d gotten that day.

Now, do you have to read my entire blog before messaging me?  No.  It impressed the hell out of me, but it’s not a requirement.

Sissy didn’t read my entire blog before messaging me.  But he wrote a sweet, intelligent message that stood apart from the others I’d gotten that day.  He consistently went above and beyond my expectations and surprised and impressed me.

What Sissy and Sounder have in common is that they both approached me as a person first.  Their messages didn’t list their kinks or their fetishes or their fantasies.  In fact, other than Sissy mentioning that he’s a sissy, and Sounder mentioning some of his past experience, nothing in either of their messages had anything to do with their kinks.  Both messages were polite, courteous, and gave me the opportunity to get to know them as people, rather than a list of fetishes.

Of course, the list of fetishes is important, and will be shared soon after the first exchange of messages.  Sexual compatibility and whatnot.

But again, fetishes and kinks can be negotiated.  Personal compatibility is way more important.  And a man who sees me as a person instead of his personal outlet for experiencing fetishes will always win over the one who spews the list of fantasies and what he wants from me.

So read profiles.  Read blogs.  Put some work into getting to know the person you want to serve.  If, after learning a bit about their personality, you still want to serve them, that’s when you send the message.

You may find out that I spent the evening eating almost half a pint of pistachio gelato while watching last night’s RAW and The Edge and Christian Show That Totally Reeks of Awesomeness (I cried when Edge retired from wrestling a few years ago), listening to Angela Gheorghiu, and reading Deadpool vs Spiderman comic books and decide that I’m not your type.

Or, more likely, maybe you’ll read about me and decide that I’m amazing and wonderful and charming and witty and modest and you totally want to worship the ground I walk on.

So how do you get my attention?

Well, take everything that you did in your first message, and do the exact opposite.

Instead of doing the online equivalent of a catcall (which is what you did, and it doesn’t work any better online than it does in real life, mostly because deep down, you don’t have any more interest in me as a person than the men making catcalls have interest in the objects of their momentary lust), approach me with respect, and courtesy, and show me why you’re worth my time.

If you don’t have a legitimate interest in serving me, then don’t catcall me.  If you do have a legitimate interest in serving me, then take the time to think about how you’re coming across.  If you actually want to serve a woman, then show her in the first message.  Make the effort to be respectful, and to stand out from the rest.

Hopefully, if you actually are a genuine sub, this will help you in the future in your efforts to find a Domme to serve.

End of an era

Kazander has the worst luck when it comes to being sick.  In the six years I’ve known him, he’s been sick on his birthday all but maybe twice.

This year was no exception. A minor cold on his birthday has now devolved into a pretty nasty virus that has him making some very un-sexy noises.

So I took his alcohol away and have been shoving water down his throat to try and keep him hydrated.

But something else happened this year.

As I’ve said before, we always switch for his birthday.  And, because his birthday is a few days before Christmas, and we have family in town, and he has end-of-quarter hours at work, we’ve taken to switching from his birthday to the end of the year.

It’s always uncomfortable, blah blah blah, the same story every time we switch.  I’ve never liked doing it.  It’s difficult to explain how weird and uncomfortable it is.  And this year was harder than most.

We’d just switched a few months ago, and I made a terrible submissive, even by my own standards.

I’m a terrible submissive to begin with.  I argue, I forget that I’m supposed to be submissive, I roll my eyes, and I get annoyed with 97% of whatever Kazander wants to do with me.  Constant teasing and denial sends me beyond frustration and into anger.  Pain pisses me off.  Anything more than ultra-mild humiliation annoys me.  Having to be obedient and follow rules annoys me.  Bondage is alright, but I’m always very much on edge, and there’s a nasty little voice that constantly nags and asks, “Will he actually untie you if you really need to be untied?  What if he doesn’t?”

Funny, it’s the exact opposite of the thoughts I have when I’m with a bound and helpless boy.  Then, there are a number of thoughts that flash through my mind along the lines of “I don’t have to untie him.  I could render him completely helpless and take advantage of him.”

So yeah, I’m not a great submissive.  I’m not even a good submissive.  And when we switched a few months ago, I was a spectacularly bad submissive.  I didn’t even bother trying to hide my disdain and annoyance.

And that’s not fair to Kazander.

So for his birthday, I decided I’d make more of an effort.  Granted, I still don’t think you could’ve called me a good submissive, but it was a hell of an improvement from the last time.  It still made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end whenever I had to obey him, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes or saying something smart, and the whole thing was supremely uncomfortable in general, but he deserved more of an effort.

At one point, I asked him why, if he likes switching so much, he doesn’t find a sub girl and dominate someone who actually wants to be dominated.  He mentioned that the effort that it would take to find such a girl would be monumental, and then figuring out how Domming a girlfriend would fit into our own dynamic would be another huge undertaking, and that it wasn’t worth it.

He made the comment, “And I don’t get much out of it, anyway.”

Which immediately put me in I’m-about-to-scream-at-you,-you-fucking-asshole mode.

He didn’t get much out of it?  I’m busting my ass, going against my entire personality, pretending to be something I am very much not, and dealing with constant fucking discomfort and sexual dysphoria, and he doesn’t get much out of it?

So what the hell was I even doing it for?

But I calmed down, and we talked it out like civilized people.

The problem is that there’s so little he can do with me to begin with, and even the stuff I tolerate, I don’t tolerate well, and it just doesn’t turn him on when I’m annoyed and not into it.  And there’s only been twice that he’s been able to shut off my brain enough to put me into subspace and enjoy it.  And even then, I crashed afterwards.  It’s just not something I enjoy, and my not enjoying it prevents him from enjoying it.

So I asked him what, specifically, he likes about it, and why he asks for it every chance he gets.  He replied that he likes being able to cum whenever he wants, and he likes giving me shit and making me do what he tells me.

But he agreed that we probably shouldn’t switch anymore.  We’ll have to figure something else out.  Maybe from his birthday to the end of the year, he can just have unlimited orgasms, without switching.  I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.  I still want his birthday to be special.

It’s a surprisingly huge relief, though.  I mean, he never forced me into it.  I never had to switch.  It was always my choice.  I decided if it happened, when it happened, and for how long it happened.  I was always in control, even as a submissive.

I think I felt obligated.  It’s pretty much the only thing he ever asked for.  And hell, I love him.  I want to give him what he wants.  He’s my husband and my boy, and I want to take care of him and make him happy.  Switching made him happy.

But it’s time to recognize that the switching does more harm than good.  Quite often while we switch, I resent him.  I get annoyed/angry easily, and for no real reason, even when we’re just talking, and he makes a comment or even just acknowledges me being submissive. And he deserves better than that.

Calling him “Sir” has never been an issue.  I come from a military family, grew up around military men and women, and worked for three years in a very strict environment where rank carried a hell of a lot of weight (and saved my ass in China, when I was completely obliterated and would’ve found myself in bed with an investment banker from Germany visiting on business [that accent, though!], had my boss not threatened to publicly beat the hell out of me if I did.  And since I was always covered in bruises from our sparring matches, and had seen him beat one of the other instructors for being a disrespectful asshole, I believed he’d make good on the threat.  Vanilla sex with a stranger was not worth that).

So I’m used to calling people “Sir,” and that didn’t bother me in the slightest.  But calling him “Master” always made me cringe, and the word always caught in my throat.  Luckily, it wasn’t something he required often.

Everything about submitting felt off, for me.  Even things that were supposed to be enjoyable, I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy.  Having to ask permission to cum annoyed me.  Being told no irritated me.  I just couldn’t really enjoy it.  Not the way I enjoy grabbing him by his hair and shoving his face between my legs.  Not the way I enjoy fucking Sounder’s ass while he squirms and writhes practically off the side of the bed.  Not the way I enjoy stuffing Steel from both ends and making him suck his cum off my fingers.

There’s just no comparison.

So I’m relieved that we won’t be switching anymore.  The benefits just aren’t worth the drawbacks.  And it doesn’t serve to bring us closer, like it did the first couple of times.  The first time or two, opening myself up to him, being vulnerable like that to him, was fucking terrifying.  But forcing myself to do it opened me up to him in a way that I have trouble doing with anyone else, and it solidified our bond.

It had a purpose, once.  There was a reason we switched, and it had direct and long-term benefits.  But it’s outlived its purpose.

I am a Dominant.  I am not now, nor have I ever been, a switch.  Kazander is my submissive, my boy, my property.  He wears my collar.  He obeys me, and I take care of him.  That’s the way I want it, that’s the way that feels right, and that’s the way that it’s going to be.

The switching ends now.

The Mysterious Third

Airports, airplanes, and flying always put me in a nostalgic, sentimental sort of mood, in a way that few other things can. I never really knew why, but it’s something I’ve always loved. I love the cramped, noisy metal tubes, I love the layovers, I love walking through airports to find my gate.

Today, I spent the earliest part of the morning at gate C1 of McCarran Airport. At 5:25, I boarded the cramped metal tube, and we took off shortly after, in that soft pre-dawn light that bathes everything in a sweet blue, and raced toward the sun.

Once I get to my destination, I’ll have a short layover, and board another flight that will take me the rest of the way to the man I’ve been waiting to see for months.

Quite a few readers have noticed that I often reference owning three boys, but only refer to two by name. Quite a few readers have asked asked about the mysterious third boy, and why he’s been kept off the blog.

We all love a good mystery.

Most have assumed that he is Sissy, but no, that’s not the case. Sissy had some personal shit go down, that would mess with anyone pretty badly, and when he pulled away, I gave him his space. I’m of course open to talking to him again, should he reach out. He knows that I’m there for him, if he needs support, or someone to talk to. But he’s an Aquarius, and if he’s anything like me, he wants to be left the fuck alone.

So no, Sissy is not the third.

We’ll call the third Steel, and due to family and personal circumstances, we are temporarily separated by a distance large enough to warrant a plane ride. He’s got responsibilities that are keeping him farther from me than I’d like him to be. But we make the most of it, and Kazander was sweet enough to give me a trip out to see him as an early Christmas present.

So I’m spending the day at airports and on planes, some of my favorite places in the world. And don’t get me wrong. I love Kazander, and I love my kid, and I loved the last two flights I took with one or the other. But there’s just something so quiet about traveling alone. About being alone in a crowded room, surrounded by people, standing back and watching them.

It’s about seeing people hug goodbye at the security line, watching family members wave to their relatives. It’s about listening to people talk about their vacation, and how much fun they had in Vegas, but how they’re ready to go home. It’s about seeing hundreds of people sitting quietly at the terminals, reading or talking or working on their laptops to pass the time.

I even love the turbulence. Our descent is expected to be quite turbulent, and I’m looking forward to it. That sinking feeling in your stomach, the little rush of adrenaline, the unpredictable rocking of the plane, it’s all just awesome.

And I know that every minute that passes brings me about six miles closer to Steel. I’m going to be able to spend the weekend with him, using him hard to make up for the time we had to spend apart, and the time we’ll have to spend apart after I leave. As of now, there’s no way of knowing how much longer this separation will have to last.

I intend to make the most of the time we’ll have together. And his nervousness is adorable.

I had to promise not to completely devour him when he picks me up at the airport. Last time we were together, we got hungry and decided to drive to get some food, after a pretty long, intense session. He didn’t realize until after we were already on the busy road that his head was not in the right space for driving. So when we meet at the airport, I need to hold back, to resist the urge to claim him, until we get to the hotel (and we’re stopping to grab dinner on the way to the hotel, so the holding-back thing may get a little difficult). But I can’t do or say anything to fuck with his head until I know that he won’t have to drive for awhile. So that’ll be a test of my willpower.

But then, oh it’s on. His skinny ass is mine, and I’ve got to make up for lost time.

Oh, in the meantime… Here’s a funny conversation that happened between me and the passenger sitting next to me, a man who could be Shaquille O’Neal’s only-slightly-smaller brother, who was obviously freaking out during out descent.

Me: Not a fan of flying?

Shaq’s look-a-like: Of being shoved in a big metal box and thrown 700 miles? No, not really.

Me: Well, the good news is we’re low enough now that if we crash, we probably won’t die.

Shaq: *pause* Yeah, see that’s not helping.

I don’t get it. I said we probably won’t die. That’s being super-helpful.

Schedules and Responsibilities

I won’t be able to see the Nerd until next week.

140159His work schedule is crazy this week, and I’ve got a lot going on, myself, so it just won’t be able to happen.  And that’s a bummer.  It really is.

He’s so eager, though.  He really is.  He was texting me tonight while I was working, and asked if I had any free time after I got off.  He wanted to come over to suck on my strap-on for a little bit.

And dear God, it was tempting.

But kazander is working a lot of overtime this week, so he’s already in bed, asleep.  Which means the bedroom is off-limits.  And we can’t play in the living room and risk the spawn coming out and catching us.


I had to tell him no.  And it killed me to do it.

But on the plus side, today wasn’t completely kink-free.  I did a lot of edging with kazander.  I love the effect it has on him.  By the 19th edge, he was writhing and panting and squirming and begging for God-knows-what.  It was adorable.  We took a shower together before I had to log in for work, and he did a very thorough job bathing me.  I always love when he bathes me.  He’s so sweet, and gentle, and it really gets him in that servitude mindset.

Throughout the night, I edged him some more, and the more I did it, the more turned-on I got.  Kazander is a very strong, powerful man.  He tends to intimidate people, he tends to be in charge in pretty much every situation he finds himself in.  Even in his circle of friends, he’s the leader.  His own parents defer to him, and let him be more or less the head of the family.

But with me, that strong man is brought to his knees, and reduced to a pitiful, mewling, gasping little boy.  It’s so addicting.  And I love watching him writhe.  It’s such a sweet drug, and I’m completely addicted.

So I teased him relentlessly, mercilessly, because it’s fun.  Then, I sat on his face for a bit, because why not?

I gave him a ruined orgasm (by accident, I’ll admit… An edge went just one stroke too far, and he couldn’t hold back) and sent him to bed.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to see the nerd on Friday, and continue to work on breaking him and making him my bitch.  It really won’t be hard.  Not with him.  Not with how docile and obedient and eager he is.

I kinda love my life.

More fun with semantics

So I’ve talked about semantics, and how there are as many definitions as there are members in the BDSM community.  It’s sparked countless debates, and countless arguments.  I always thought those arguments were petty, so I never really paid much attention to labels and the supposed differences between a sub and a slave, or a Domme or a Mistress. Continue reading