Jesse’s back!

So I don’t know if you guys know this, but there’s this adorably hot sissy I own.  Like, a million kinds of sexiness.

And for the past few months, he’s been dealing with some stuff that make typing about impossible.  So his blog hasn’t been active.  Which is fine, I told him not to worry about it.  It’s not like the blog is going anywhere.

And as it turns out, there are some really cool things he can post that don’t require a lot of typing.

Like sexy pictures that show off his sexiness.

Because I’m just a teensy bit of a fangirl of his sexy, slutty photos. Just a little bit.

And my darling slut is just so accommodating, sending me these amazing, hot, sexy, slutty pictures.  It’s my own personal sissy porn stash.

But you know, it’s selfish of me, keeping a bitch this hot all to myself.  The world should be able to see how unbelievably hot he is.  I should share him with the world.

So I very subtly suggested the possibility of posting them on his blog.  His very own sissy gallery, for the masses to appreciate.

And he, being the sweet, obedient whore that he is, quickly complied, posting three very hot sissy pictures on his blog.

I highly recommend checking them out.  You can find his blog, Sounds Like Jesse, in the sidebar (or down at the bottom if you’re reading this from a phone), or you can click here to see his newest post.

A year later

1 month, 27 days, 2 hours, 24 minutes, and 49 seconds.

Then my plane will land in Steel’s city.

There’s a lot about living so far away that sucks.  But by far the worst is when he crashes and I’m not there to help him get stable again.

Neither of us were big on long-distance relationships.  We knew it would be hard, and we knew most of them only last a few months.

But the chemistry was undeniable.  And I fell in love with him immediately.

As intense as the relationship got, and as fast, we both wondered at the red flags that should have been popping up, but weren’t.  Still, I decided to go with what I felt, with what felt natural, and told him to do the same.

We’ve had our differences (like the fact that he’s a Raiders fan, while I’m a Broncos fan.  But the Raiders may actually be moving to Vegas, so I promised I’d keep an open mind), and he’s much more practical and prone to overthinking, while I am much more laid-back and go-with-the-flow type.  In some ways, we are the exact opposite.  But it’s in a way that we complement each other, and it works beautifully.

A year later, that intensity hasn’t waned in the slightest.  And every time I see him, it just gets stronger.

I’ve fed his neediness, his greed, his clinginess, and his dependence, because that’s the way I want him.  He’s opened himself up to me to a level I’ve never experienced before, and it made it very easy for me to mold and condition him to be what I want.

While I don’t regret doing it (and am willing to bet he doesn’t regret it, either, and he’ll tell me if I’m wrong), the neediness and dependence that I’ve encouraged, that we both want, has made the distance even worse.

When that craving, that dependence, that neediness comes crashing down on him, he has trouble stabilizing himself again.  And if I were there with him, it would be too easy to interrupt that spiral and get him leveled out.

But I’m not, and it’s not.  All I can do is tell him that it’ll pass, that it’ll be alright.  And I hate knowing that he’s hurting, and I can’t help him.

Especially since it would be so easy to fix, if I was just there.

But he’s a big boy, and he’s a strong man, and he gets through it.  And I hold back a bit on the intensity, so he can hold on to his sanity.

It’s been a year that he’s been mine.  And I keep thinking back to the day I collared him.

I’ve never been one for big ceremonies.  There was none when I collared Kazander.  And with Steel, I’d told him I wanted to collar him months before we met and I could actually fasten it around his neck.

I ended up collaring him almost as soon as we were alone together.  Every time I looked at him, every time I saw the absence of the collar there, it just annoyed me.  He was mine.  I wanted him collared.

There was one thing he had asked for, though.  And the way he asked was so sweet, so shy, I was happy to oblige him.

He’d asked if he could write me a letter, that I would read while knelt at my feet on the day I collared him.

It’s a letter that I carry in my wallet with me, right next to his collar, that stays in a special zippered pocket in my purse when it’s not around his neck.

Ma’am,

I kneel at your feet stripped, vulnerable, and helpless.  Kneeling here while you read my intentions as an act of choice before you collar me.  Because this moment exists somewhere between before and after and only happens once.  Once is special.

I come to you fully owning my identity as a submissive, knowing that you will only take what is given freely and nothing more.  I come to aching to break, knowing you will only break what’s necessary in order for you to truly possess me.  I come to you prepared to worship, knowing you only accept such adoration as your due from those you own and protect, and secure in the knowledge you won’t build a shrine to your own ego.  I come to you fully understanding myself to be a slutty, craving, needy boy submitting to you as my Dominant; knowing you value these traits, I understand you will feed and enable them as long as I am not endangering myself.  I come to you wanting to serve, knowing you will hurt, use, break, and mold me – knowing you will care for me, guide me, and help me to be a better person – knowing you will feed weakness and greed even as you build strengths and discipline – knowing you will push me towards limits or hold me back as necessary –  knowing I am always safe under your gaze and under your thumb.

Once you collar me, I am yours.  Having surrendered and submitted to your will of my own volition, you possess the power to punish and reward as you see fit.  I submit to your experience, intellect, love, and compassion just as I submit to your sadism, depravity, and craving for control.  I submit to you with the knowledge you know and understand my hardest limits and confident you will ask for clarification should we approach anything that approximates unknown territory.  I submit – happily – knowing no magic words exist, which I can utter to force you to stop.  You will stop when you decide because you are the one in control.  Your possessing the final say is what I want and need.

I promise to work hard to be a good, sweet, and obedient boy.  I promise to work hard to learn how to serve you best and remain a valuable submissive.  I promise to strive to remain as open and vulnerable as you desire in order to give you access and control to whatever traits you wish to enhance, curb, or condition.  I promise to constantly make an effort to not take you or this relationship for granted.

As you read this note I have been thinking on what’s written here.  As you take in these words, I have been searing them into my consciousness.  I have been waiting a long time for you and find myself both thrilled and scared the wait is over.

I love you.

Your boy,
Steel

I’ve read it so many times, I pretty much have it memorized.  And he has made good on everything he’s promised in his letter.  His dedication has never faltered, he’s never forgotten his place, he’s never given me reason to be disappointed in him.  Whether we’re together or thousands of miles apart, he’s everything I want him to be.

And while I cherish and adore who he is as a submissive, it’s who he is as a man that I respect and admire.  He’s no stranger to pain, to tragedy, to loss, to regret.  All three of my boys have experienced more than their fair share of those, and all three have risen above it.

Steel knows who he is, he knows what he has to offer, and he knows his worth.  Along with that, he loves me, he loves submitting to me, and loves serving me.  I consider myself lucky to own him.

lishorek.soup.io

This is his favorite position to be in, and I can’t wait to have him curled up in my lap where he belongs.  1 month, 27 days, 1 hour, 4 minutes, and 18 seconds to go.

How to find a Domme

The most common question I’ve gotten the last couple millennia has been;

I’m a submissive man.  How do I find a Domme?

Your first message should be friendly, polite, show who you are as a person, rather than a submissive, and show a desire to learn about the Dom/me as a person.  I can’t speak for male Doms, but for Dommes, there is nothing more annoying than messages talking only about kink, even if written with the best intentions.

Here’s a common message I get, and something many men seem to think is acceptable.

Dear Mistress/Goddess/Whatever

I saw your profile and I love it.  I’m totally into foot play, and have always wanted a sexy Domme like you to step on me.  I would love blah blah blah (all about his fantasies, his desires, and what he wants from me, without a single detail about who he is outside of his kinks, and without remotely expressing a desire to get to know me outside of the kinks I can satisfy for him).

You’re so sexy and I hope to serve you.

Random well-meaning sub

And the sad thing is that the man who sends this actually thinks he’s doing something good.  And these aren’t stupid or childish people.  The most recent example I got of this was written by an educated, 42-year-old professional.

I’m assuming he’s not an idiot.  Just like I assume almost every other man who writes that same kind of message isn’t an idiot.  So why do men think this sort of thing is okay?

And this is so common, you’d be utterly shocked.

I feel bad for all those men who get so frustrated, just unable to understand what they’re doing wrong.  So, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll explain it. 

Here’s a secret for you: Dommes online are already on the defensive simply because of the messages we get on a daily basis.  We see a message in our inbox from someone we don’t know and are expecting the same thing we always get: online catcalls.  Or insults.

When she opens that messsage, she is expecting you to be a douche.  She has already decided in her head that you’re a douche.  It’s up to you to prove her wrong.  And messages like the one above, while written with the best of intentions, do not prove her wrong.

Starting on literally my third day of being on Collarspace and Fetlife, I was firmly in that mindset.  And without exception, every single message I receive from someone I don’t know, I expect to be either a one-sentence, please-let-me-suck-on-your-toes nonsense, or some crappy, long-winded, please-let-me-suck-on-your-toes nonsense.  I’ve already decided that the author of the message is a tool, before opening the message.

Why?  Because the author of every other message for the past month has been a tool.  Your message is just the next one on the list.

Is it fair to you?  Maybe not.  But it’s your species that did it (and often you, in particular, helped contribute to it), so now it’s up to you to prove her wrong.

And I mean that.  If you’ve ever written to me or approached me on either Fetlife or Collarspace, I want you to know that I thought you were a douche as soon as I saw the light blue name, or as soon as I saw the new message notification on Fet.  I clicked on the message, thinking, “Alright, what does this douche want?”

In most cases, I was right, and you were, in fact, a douche.

In a few, I was proven very wrong.

In this case, I like being proven wrong.  It’s a really good feeling, after days and weeks of online catcalls, to receive an intelligent message written by someone interested in me, rather than the fact that the color of my screen name is red and there’s the word Domina in front of my name.

And seriously guys, that’s pretty sad.  When a Dominant woman opens a thoughtful, respectful message from a complete stranger, and it’s such a rare phenomenon that it literally makes her day, that’s just sad.

A Dominant woman should not be relieved to be seen as a human being by a submissive man.  And the fact that 99% of submissive men online seem to think that this is okay astounds me.  If you go to a munch, do you approach Dommes like that in person?

No.  And do you know why you don’t approach Dommes like that in person?

Because you don’t go to munches.

And that is the single most annoying, irritating, frustrating, sometimes even infuriating thing about submissive men.  You don’t go to munches.  You don’t want anyone to know you’re a sub.

I will take a moment to acknowledge that occasionally, there may be a legitimate reason to need a level of discretion that a bar or restaurant may not be able to provide.  For the other 97% of you, you’re pissing us the fuck off.

Why?  Well, let’s answer that question with another question.  Why won’t you go to a munch?

Whatever reason you may have (and honey, I’ve heard them all), it always boils down to one thing: You’re ashamed.

Pretty it up however you want.  You’re ashamed of being submissive, and you’re ashamed of others knowing that you’re submissive.  You just can’t bear to have your orientation publicly acknowledged.  You can’t bear to have other men know that you’re submissive.

And you all can just fuck right off with that.

Would you like to know what that looks like from our point of view?  Would you like to know what you’re saying to us by keeping all of this so goddamn deep in the closet, it might as well be fucking Narnia?  I’ll break it down for you.

You’re ashamed of being submissive.  Which means you’re ashamed of being the submissive partner in a D/s dynamic.  Which means you’re ashamed of a Femdom D/s relationship.  Which means you’re ashamed of us, and the dynamic we represent.

Which makes us feel unwanted, and undesirable.

That’s what you’re telling us by refusing to be open (among other kinky people) about your orientation.  If you’re ashamed to tell a kinky person that you are submissive, and you’re ashamed to tell a kinky person that you submit to me, then you’re ashamed of me.  And there’s nothing you can say to fix that, there are no words to pretty it up.

Now, does that mean I expect you to shout it from the rooftops?  No, I don’t shout it from the rooftops.  The vanilla folks don’t need to know.  Not long ago, Sounder and I went out for drinks, and no one in the bar knew that he’s my sissy.  Kazander and I go out, or interact with his family, all the time, and no one ever knows.  Steel and I spent three full days together, and transitioned easily from the private dynamic to the public dynamic as needed, and no one knew I own him.

None of them are any less mine, or any less submissive when we’re out among the muggles.  But no one knows it.  Sure, Steel still wears his collar 24/7 when he’s with me, and Kazander couldn’t take his off if he wanted to (even I can’t take it off without breaking the ring that locks it together).  But that’s the only clue, and no one notices.  We’re just a regular couple.

I still have expectations of them, of course.  They don’t stop being submissive to me when other people are around.  But there is no shouting from rooftops.

Even among kinky people, I don’t really broadcast it.  If I’m asked, I’ll tell people I’m a Domme, and if it comes up organically in conversation, then alright cool.  But I don’t announce, “I’m a Dominant, and look at this guy with me!  He’s submissive!”

There’s just no reason for it.

So no, you don’t have to broadcast it.  But you can’t be ashamed of it, either.  If you’re a submissive man, and you’re looking for a Domme, then grow a fucking pair of balls and go to a munch.  Stop hiding behind your computer screen.

The first local group I joined here in town was 90% male Doms and female submissives.  Including me, there were 6 Dommes (although one was a lesbian, and not interested in submissive men, so for purposes of this conversation, she doesn’t count).

Would you like to know how many submissive men there were on a regular basis?

Including Kazander, there was one.

One.  And that one was Kazander, who was so freaked out, he damn near had a panic attack the first night he went, and he saw one of his coworkers there.

He, like many submissive men, was terrified of what could happen if it got out.  But do you want to know what happened with his coworker?

Nothing.

They nodded to each other at the bar, and occasionally engaged in small talk if they were both waiting for drinks at the same time, but that was it.  His coworker (a Dom) never outed him, or even mentioned it at work.  And Kazander realized that there really isn’t anything to be afraid of, and never had a problem going with me after that.

Submissive men are like unicorns in that group.  And when they show up, they’re popular as fuck.  Even with Kazander being collared to me, he never wanted for female attention (hell, two of the Dommes have played with him).

How sad is it that a Dominant woman, highly respected in her community, does not have a submissive to serve her, because he doesn’t want to be seen in public as a submissive?

It’s goddamn infuriating.  And I cannot speak for all Dommes, but no, I will never settle for a relationship like that.  Hell yeah, I said it.  And I’ll say it more directly.

If you’re ashamed of “coming out” as a submissive at a kink event, or a place like a munch or play party, then you’re not even remotely good enough for me.  If you’re ashamed of being seen in public with me, or introducing me to friends/family/whatthefuckever, for fear that someone will find out, then you’re not even remotely good enough for me.

I’m not a kinky booty call that you keep carefully hidden and separated from every other aspect of your life.  I’m better than that, I deserve better than that, and I won’t tolerate anything less.  If you can’t be proud to have me in your life, then it’ll take me literally two days to replace you with someone who is proud.

Every Dominant woman deserves that much respect.  But that’s what you’re saying to us by hiding behind your computer screen and trying to hide us away.

You’re telling us you’re ashamed of us by being ashamed of yourself, and you’re completely objectifying us by those shitty little copy-and-paste messages you send to every red name on the list, thinking that we’re not intelligent enough to realize what you’re doing.

You may be frustrated that you can’t find a Domme, that you can’t find a woman to take you seriously, but to us, you’re just another horny coward who can’t handle us.

When you can see a Domme as a person, show her the respect she deserves, and can be proud of the place she has in your life, you’ll find a Domme to serve.

Or you can continue half-assing your messages, hiding in your little hole, and wondering why the women you objectify won’t give you the time of day.  Let me know how that works out for you.

For sale?

So I received this particular gem about a month ago.

Jen.
Good evening. I’ve been an avid follower of your blog for some time. The dynamics you create with the men who serve you is something I find fascinating.
I am particularly intrigued by the path you’re leading Sounder down, and what you’re doing with him. That dynamic is fascinating, and I enjoy reading about it, and the things you do to him. I understand that he’s never been penetrated by a man. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask your indulgence while I illustrate a fantasy I thought I’d never have the opportunity to fulfill.
I have always craved power and control over others. That craving, I’m sure, has had quite a lot to do with the level of success I’ve achieved in my life. But there’s something about sexual control that appeals to me on a completely different level. The idea of forcing someone to bend to my will is highly erotic. This idea has morphed over the years into a fantasy involving nonconsensual sex, of overpowering someone or rendering someone completely helpless and having my way with him. I am not homosexual, but for reasons beyond my understanding, this fantasy has always involved forcing myself on a man, rather than a woman.
You’ve said that Sounder has never been penetrated by a man, and is reluctant to make that happen. The post he wrote very clearly illustrates his general mindset, and the way his reluctance and fear drive you to lead him deeper. Being in a position of leadership myself, this is something I can appreciate. So there is something I’d like to propose to you.
I would like the opportunity to purchase his virginity from you, and use him to fulfill my fantasy. I will be staying in town for the rest of the week. There is a specific way I’ve envisioned this, but of course he is your sub and it’s open to negotiation.
I would like having him brought to my room, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, fully clothed. I would like to forcefully remove his clothes, so he would need a second outfit to wear. And of course you’re welcome to be present through the whole thing. I know you value him and want to make sure your property isn’t harmed. To that extent, I also have recent medical records I am willing to show before I touch him, to prove that I am drug and disease free.
Once his clothes have been removed, I will proceed to penetrate him. You’ve said a couple times that he is very strong, so it’s unlikely I will be able to overpower him without him being bound. Hence the reason for having his hands tied behind his back. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t want him to struggle at all. A large part of what draws me to this fantasy is the aspect of penetrating a man against his will. Souder will be welcome to struggle just as he would if this wasn’t a controlled, planned event.
I don’t have much interest in his mouth. If you want him gagged that’s fine, although I would prefer him not to be gagged, and able to say whatever he wishes.
I  a businessman, and I of course would never expect something for nothing. I would be willing to pay you for the use of your sub, and for his virginity. I’m willing to pay $250 for it, up front of course. And after I’ve finished with him, I will leave the room for a time, to allow you to help him recover, and take your time in leaving. I’m unfamiliar with the protocols for aftercare, but understand that it’s important and should not be neglected, particularly after intense sessions like the one I’ve described.
Please respond at your convenience if this is something that interests you. I would like to thank you for your time and consideration, and wish you a pleasant evening.
Regards

The idea was an intriguing one, but I told him no and didn’t give it much thought.

Until yesterday, when it came up in conversation with Sounder.  I told him the gist of what this gentleman had been looking for.

1462259600179

Well I think it would be fun…

Those of you who were clients of mine in Alabama can definitely understand why that price was so insulting.  I charged $200 for a session.  Just a regular, plain session.  Why would anyone think I’d give up something far more valuable for only fifty dollars more?

I told this man that I wouldn’t even consider something like that for so little, and that I was shocked at his nerve in suggesting it.  Sounder’s virginity for $250?  Are you kidding me?

That’s like asking to buy the Mona Lisa for a few thousand dollars (it’s worth almost 800 million, in case you were wondering… I kinda have a thing for da Vinci).  You’d be laughed out of the country for suggesting something so ridiculous.

And really, Sounder’s virginity is a valuable commodity.  He’s never been penetrated by a man, he doesn’t want to be penetrated by a man, but his desire to please and obey me overrides his reluctance.

I can see how that would give a man with a rape fantasy a unique opportunity to fulfill a fantasy he would not otherwise be able to fulfill.  Sounder is about as close to “unwilling” as you can get without crossing the line into actual nonconsensual sex.  It’s about as close to realism as you can get without breaking any laws or violating any moral code.

I get that.  As a lover of consensual nonconsent, I adore situations where a boy is forced to do things he doesn’t want to do.  I have my own rape fantasies, and my favorite porn videos involve (believable) roleplay rape scenarios.

So I get it.  I understand the appeal.  And, for this gentleman, I can even tell him why he wants to force himself on a man, rather than a woman.

It has nothing to do with your sexuality.  It’s a dominance thing.  It’s an alpha-male thing.  Especially for someone who craves control and power, what more effective display of power is there?

Gay, straight, or in between, it doesn’t matter.  The attraction to this kind of fantasy has nothing to do with sexuality.  It has to do with dominating another man.  It’s the ultimate display of dominance.

I’ve known a couple of straight or straight-ish Doms who owned male slaves.  When I first met a man like that, I didn’t understand it at all.  Why would he own someone he’s not sexually attracted to?  Why, if he’s not gay or bi, would he choose to own men, rather than women?

He explained the dominance, and the way he views D/s.  For him, he would never dream of Dominating a woman.  In fact, he was married to a Domme, and while he was in no way her sub, she more or less ran things.

For him, it was an alpha-male thing.  He explained that there was no greater feeling in the world than forcing himself inside a reluctant man, making that man accept him.  He was brutal with his subs, and regularly fucked them raw, ruthlessly held them and just pounded his cock into their mouths, he often went ass to mouth, he completely and utterly violated them and degraded them.

It was fucking awesome.  And it made me extremely jealous that I don’t have a penis.  Even now, imagining Sounder being brutally violated that way by a man makes me jealous I don’t have one, and can’t do it myself.

Oh, but don’t get me wrong.  Watching him being used like that by another man will be indescribably hot.

So I get it.  I know that attraction, I can relate to that attraction.  I can understand the appeal of a man like Sounder and the unique opportunity he represents.

But $250?  For Sounder’s virginity?  Hell fucking no.

He has never had a man inside him.  Ever.  In his life.

The very first moment that a man pushes the tip of his cock into Sounder’s hole, that will be gone forever.  You’re only a virgin once.  Only one man on the planet is going to be able to take Sounder’s virginity.  And if I’m going to give it to a stranger, it damn sure won’t be for $250.

I have expensive tastes, ladies and gentlemen.  And I have a boy on the other side of the country who misses me.

There’s no way I would sell something as valuable as Sounder’s virginity for that little.  And it is valuable.  Once he loses it, it’s gone forever.  He will never again be able to say that he’s never been fucked by a man.  For the rest of his life.

But I do know that just because something is valuable doesn’t mean that it’s in high demand.  So I’m curious to know what the demand for a reluctant man’s virginity is.  Is that something many men would want?  Is it something they would pay for?

It’s definitely interesting to think about.  Very intriguing.

 

Murphy makes an appearance

Southern was back in town this week, so obviously I was eager to see him.  We had originally planned to have him come over to my house to play here, and I’d get to fuck his ass, which I haven’t been able to do since I moved back to Vegas.

But my recent hospital stay meant that Kazander’s parents came into town a couple of weeks early to help take care of the spawn, and we had no privacy.

Ugh…

But that was okay, we could do the same thing we did last time he was in town, and have a lot of fun.  I really enjoyed teasing him and being cruel to him, and was looking forward to doing it again.

So we were set to meet on Monday, and on Sunday night, I went to get the things I’d need together.  I grabbed the vibrating egg he’d gotten me, and the remote.  And just for fun, I decided to test it out.

The batteries were dead.

And of course, the toy doesn’t take AAs or AAAs.  It takes weird batteries that nobody sells.

I was supposed to meet him the next day, and we had no batteries.

Ugh…

But I figured, it’s the Strip.  People from all over the world come to the Strip.  There’s got to be a place in the mall we went to that would have the batteries we needed.

After walking the entire length of the mall, every floor, we were at a loss.  No one had even heard of the batteries we needed.  There was nothing we could do.

So we gave up, and arranged to meet for breakfast on Wednesday.  There’s a battery store in town, and I was planning on heading there Tuesday to pick up the batteries.  The store says they sell “every type of battery,” so we’d be fine.

And in the meantime, we decided to go to Chipotle for lunch.  Neither of us had been there before, so we were standing in line, looking up at the menu, and I discreetly reached down behind him, running my fingers down his ass, completely shattering his focus.  And of course, I did it just as he was about to give the lady his order.

I love the effect groping him has on him.  It completely derails his train of thought, completely destroys his concentration.  It’s beyond entertaining to do that to him in public, and watch him get all flushed and try to deal with it.  Watching him try to carry on a conversation with someone else is especially amusing.

And I hadn’t touched him up to that point, so it was completely unexpected, and totally threw him off guard.

Such a little thing, and it has such a big effect.

It’s addicting, it really is.

After lunch, I drove him back to the other mall on the Strip (I find it hilarious that he knows more about where things are on the Strip than I do, and I have to ask him for directions).  And once we got in the car, the groping continued.

He has this adorable habit of thrusting his hips whenever I play with his cock or his ass, and as we were driving, he was squirming all over the place.

I have to say, I didn’t mind the traffic in the least.

So I dropped him off and went home.  The next day, I went to the battery store, and was stunned to find out that they didn’t carry the batteries I needed.  They could order them, but they wouldn’t be in until Friday.

UGH!!!!

Every possible thing that could have gone wrong was going wrong.  It was unbelievably frustrating.

But we would still meet for breakfast.  I’d bring the egg with me, and at least he could have it inside him, even without it vibrating.  So I drove to the mall, met him, and we went into one of the family bathrooms.

The poor boy hasn’t had his ass played with in so long, and it was so very tight.  I’d thought about bringing a plug with me, but the only one I have that he’d be able to take has the habit of falling out of Kazander, and the mall just wasn’t the place for that particular experiment.

So I stuck with the egg.  But, as it turns out, Southern had forgotten just how big the egg is.  He was squirming and moaning, and I could tell he was seconds away from telling me to take it back out.

But I’m not the most patient of people.

I pushed it in, gently but quickly, before he had the chance to say anything.  He gasped, then sighed once it passed his entrance.  It was so cute.

While we were at breakfast, he said he could still feel it inside him, especially while he was sitting down, so that was good.  It’s still a bummer that I couldn’t use the remote, but it was better than nothing.

And that’s one thing I like about Southern.  He’s a fun toy to play with, and I love doing mean things to him, but we can sit and talk about anything and everything.  One moment, we could be talking about all of the kinky, twisted things I want to do to him, and in the next, we could be talking about music (we’re both musicians) or family or the economy or literally anything.

We finished breakfast, and we happened to be right next to a theater that he was going to see a show at later.  So we went to stand in line to get his ticket, and I took every advantage I could to discreetly grope and distract him.

And really, his reaction is so great, I just can’t help myself.  I feel like I have to do it.

He got the tickets, and we went back to the bathroom to take the egg out.  I knew it was going to be a little painful for him (he’d mentioned that he was mere seconds away from telling me that he needed a break when I put it in, confirming what I thought).  So I decided to use the Band-Aid approach and pull it out smoothly and quickly.

He damn near screamed, and it was awesome.

We got in the car and took the scenic route back to his hotel, to give us time to grope some more in the car.  I found a somewhat secluded corner of the mall parking garage, parked, and played with him a bit.

Man, I want to do mean things to his cock.  It’s so pretty, I want to hurt it.

But he needed to get back, so I drove him to his hotel, dropped him off, and went home.

It was so great being able to see him again, especially so soon.  He usually only comes to Vegas once a year.  But next time, I’ll make sure that I have batteries a couple of weeks before he gets here.  If we can’t swing a private place to ourselves, I’ll at least be able to use that on him again.

Blast From the Past

Alright, so I feel like I should be on an episode of House.  I’ve apparently got some crazy, exotic, rare disease that no one can figure out (don’t worry, I’m not contagious, they checked for all of those).

I’m home, with an appointment to see a lung specialist, a blood specialist, an infectious disease specialist (because of the unexplainable [why does WordPress’ client say that’s spelled wrong?  It’s not spelled wrong] absurdly high white blood cell count, not because of something gross, like the words “infectious disease” tend to imply).  Oh, and then I’ve got to see a psychiatrist, just for the fuck of it, apparently.  I know there’s a list somewhere of kink-friendly medical professionals, including psychiatrists, but I want to find the most conservative, vanilla one in town.  That’ll be a fucking entertaining hour, and totally worth the $20 copay.

So I got home on Saturday, slept for 29 hours, and feel a hell of a lot better.  Hospitals tend to not understand the concept of sleep deprivation.

And what did I find in my Fetlife inbox upon waking up?  A message entitled, “I know I’m the last one you want to talk to.”

Ooooh, this could be entertaining.

Then I saw who sent it.

Well, hello again, Ash.  Dammit, and I thought it would be some crazy, interesting, juicy drama.

Miss Jen,

Because I flaked twice already but I now have a disciplinarian but she lives in Canada. She is trying to find someone to help carry out punishments. Is there any chance you’d consider talking to me again?

I see I even made your blog and that you were looking forward to me serving you until I flaked.

Please let me know if you will hear me out

Oh yeah, because messaging me out of the blue after two years to ask me for something is a great way to get what you want.

And mentioning the blog, and that I was looking forward to him serving me was supposed to serve what purpose, exactly?  Sure, I was looking forward to it.  He’s hot, insanely tall, and made great noises when I did mean things him.  Oh, and he was going to pay me.  Uh, yeah I was looking forward to it.

The sky is blue.  I’m bored with this conversation.  Men who message me out of the blue, asking for shit, are idiots.

Wait, are we not pointing out obvious things?  I thought that’s what we were doing.  Are we not doing that?

Alrighty-then.

I thought about ignoring him, but I couldn’t help it.  I replied.  But hey, I was nice-ish.

Three times. You’ve flaked three times.

And what exactly are you asking me to do? To randomly punish someone I don’t own based on rules that someone else laid out? To do the grunt work for someone who lives in another country? To do all the work and get none of the benefit?

Yeah, I’m not hugely eager to do that. Particularly with you. I’ve got 3 reliable subs now. Any free time I have, I’d rather spend with them. And I’m not about be at the beck and call of another Dominant thousands of miles away.

And yeah, I was looking forward to you serving me. But the same thing happened that’s happened every other time. You flaked. On top of that, you got all butthurt when you weren’t the center of my world. And when I didn’t “discipline” you exactly the way you wanted. I’m a Dominant. Not your personal fetish delivery system. You serve me. Not the other way around.

So no thanks, I’d rather not.

Pretty clear, right?  Pretty cut-and-dry, yes?  Precision of language, and all that?

This was his reply.

Fair enough. I just was hoping you’d give me a few minutes to talk with you. Like 15 minutes to lay out what she had in mind.

I’m sorry I flaked. I got scared and was immature. Hopefully at the very least you forgive me for that

First of all, there’s nothing to forgive.  I’m not angry with him, I don’t hate him.  I haven’t even thought about him in two years.

Secondly, didn’t I just say no?  That I’m not interested?  That I have no desire to get in the middle of their two-week-old relationship?

Didn’t that happen?  I mean, I know I’ve been on a surprising amount of medication, but I could’ve sworn that happened.

An hour later, I guess he decided he didn’t want to wait for me to say no again.  He wrote another message.

She’s going to put me in chastity, make me wear panties 247, and make me into a sissy turning my bottom hole into a vagina.

She wants me to follow rules and then wants someone to come over and do the physical punishments. Id be allowed to serve them domestically as well as worship them sexually as well.

If you aren’t interested which you made clear you are not would you be able to advise me how to approach someone about this? Or am I looking for something that isn’t possible.

imagesd

Why are you still talking?

Okay, dude….

Seriously, first of all,  he lives here.  Vegas is nowhere near the Canadian border.

So he entered into a disciplinarian “relationship” where the discipline can’t be enforced in any way?  She can’t punish him, she can’t enforce the rules she sets out for him (and he has been known to be disobedient).  There’s absolutely nothing she can do.  So being in a relationship with her still requires being with someone local.

How is that supposed to work?  Logistically, I mean.  What was the thought process behind that?  Behind entering into a remote disciplinarian relationship, a dynamic based solely on a metric fuckton of rules and a level of control I don’t even exert over my collared submissives, much less someone who doesn’t wear my collar?  Who thought that was a good idea?

Now, I’m a possessive Dominant.  My boys are mine.  I’ll often have them play with others, but on my terms, and I’m still in control of the situation.  Every other Domme I’ve played with has known this, has known that the boy we’re playing with is mine, and that my word is goddamn law when it comes to what happens to him during the session.  And it’s the same with me when I’m playing with someone else’s sub.  It’s one of those unwritten rules between Dominants.  You don’t fuck with things that don’t belong to you.

So the idea of entering into a relationship in which I’d have to rely on someone else to do 98% of the interaction would bother the fuck out of me.  I wouldn’t want him submitting on a regular basis to someone who is not me.  I sure as hell wouldn’t want to enter into a situation where that is not only encouraged, but required by the specific dynamic.

And yeah, I’m kind of thinking he’s asking for something impossible.  I sure as hell don’t know any Domme who would want to do all the grunt work, doing exactly as she’s told by another Dominant, basically being nothing but a fetish delivery system for someone else.  She can’t make any decisions, she can’t use her own judgement to guide or correct him, she can’t change or adjust his rules, she basically can’t do a damn thing without getting the okay from his Owner.

Granted, I obviously don’t speak for every Dominant woman in Vegas, but I know a few of them, and there isn’t a single one I can think of that would be okay with a situation like that.  I mean, domestic and sexual service is all well and good, but you can’t develop a relationship with a submissive that belongs to someone else, where someone else dictates what your relationship can and cannot be.

Who would want that?  Especially when, as a Dominant woman, you can get sexual and domestic service basically at the drop of a hat.

And then, of course, there’s the fact that this guy is a proven flake.  Who would want to waste their time with someone who is, in all likelihood, going to flake out again?

So, my dear Ash, no, I am not going to help you approach other women with this ridiculous little proposal.  I think you were an idiot to enter into a relationship like this to begin with.  I do not have the words to adequately express how little I care about your situation and your dynamic.

I also do not have the words to adequately express how thankful I am that my number has been changed since the last time we chatted.  Oh, but every message or email you send me will be posted here on the blog and publicly ridiculed (because really, you just make it too easy).  So have fun, and I’m sure we’ll talk again in another year or two, when you’re still single and unable to find what you’re looking for.  No reason to deviate from the current pattern, right?  It’s worked so well for us for the past what, six years?  Wow, almost seven years.  Almost as long as the average American marriage.

Is it just me, or is that “Definition of Insanity” cliche getting harder and harder to resist quoting?

Home Early

I come home from a night out with friends and walk into the bedroom to find you lying on the bed, wearing nothing but a cage and your collar.  You smile up at me.

“Did you have fun?”

“I did,” I reply.  “I had a lot of fun.”

“Then why did you come home so early?”

My grin widens and my eyes darken.  It’s a look that you’ve seen many times before, but no matter how many times you see it, it still makes your heart jump and sends chills down your spine.

I approach and I straddle you, one knee on either side of you on the bed.  You reach up to touch me, but I grab both of your wrists and pin them against your chest with one hand.  My other hand goes to your neck, effectively pinning you beneath me, pinning you against the bed.

“There’s something else I’d rather do,” I murmur, leaning close to kiss you.  I take your bottom lip between my teeth and bite down hard, until you’re gasping and whimpering into my mouth.

I devour your mouth, drinking in your moans and frustrated whines as your cock swells inside its cage, aching to be let out.  Then, I turn your head to the side and kiss my way along your jaw, up your neck, and to your ear.  Gently at first, I take your lobe between my teeth.

You begin squirming as my touch sends chills down your spine.

Your reactions fuel my lust, and I rise off of you, rolling you over on the bed, demanding that you get on all fours, your head down and ass up.  Without a word, I pull my thin leather belt off, fold it in half, and bring it down across your ass.

You gasp and tense, but in the next second, you exhale in relief as you realize I could’ve hit you a lot harder.

Your relief is short-lived, however.  Almost immediately after the first, I deliver five more, much, much harder.  Only a short pause, and then another five.

“Aww, does that hurt?” I ask sweetly, running the very tips of my fingers lightly over the stinging, reddening skin of your ass.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“My poor boy,” I reply, somewhat absently, as I examine the marks I’ve left on you, my eyes trailing up your body, at the half-healed welts and bruises from previous beatings.  I don’t have to ask, I know your asshole is still sore from the beating and thorough fucking you’d gotten this morning.

But it isn’t nearly sore enough.  I bring my hand down hard against your hole, spanking you without pause until you’re squirming and writhing.

“That’s my good little slut,” I murmur, using my other hand around your waist to hold you up and keep you still while I continue hurting you, punctuating each sentence with a hard slap.  “This is what you deserve.  You’re a greedy little bitch, always whining that you want more.  Isn’t this what you want?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you grunt through gritted teeth as another slap makes you shut your eyes tight against the pain.

I stop spanking you, lean over and spit directly on your hole, then run the tip of a finger gently over your entrance for a moment, but don’t put it inside.  I just keep rubbing it lightly over your puckered hole, teasing you with the touch, occasionally increasing the pressure enough to make you think I’m about to enter you, only to back off almost immediately.  I keep going, working you into a frenzied pile of want, laughing as you beg me to enter you.

Finally, when you’re whining and begging and babbling, barely coherent, I push a single finger inside, grinning as you push back against me, still wanting more.

“Such a greedy slut,” I say, chuckling as I finger you.

Then, after only a moment, I abruptly pull away from you, removing my finger.  You open your eyes, going still, and moan in frustration and want.

“Stay,” I command, then leave the room.

You take a deep breath, looking after me, and shift slightly.  Now that you’re alone, you become aware of the humiliating aspect of the position I’ve left you in.  Your head down, ass up, waiting for me to come back, and wondering what I’ll do with you.

You don’t have long to wait or wonder.  I return quickly, my strapped-on cock hard and rigid between my legs.

Without a word, I kneel behind you on the bed, press the tip of my cock against your hole, and enter you in one long, smooth motion, all the way to the hilt.

“Get on all fours,” I demand, and you quickly obey, putting your hands underneath you and pushing yourself up.  I immediately grab you by your collar and pull your head back, forcing you to arch your back as I begin a long, slow, thorough fucking.

“That’s my good boy,” I murmur as I slide almost all the way out of you before sinking all the way back in.  “This is what you want, isn’t it slut?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you gasp between moans.  With your caged cock leaking and aching in its cage, the deep ache from previous beatings radiating warmly through your body, the sharp stinging on your ass from the belt and my hand, the combination of your hole stinging and being stretched wide open, and the smooth, steady rhythm of being fucked, all you can do is react.  You can’t put a coherent thought together, can’t focus on anything other than what I’m doing to you.

“Yes, you love this, don’t you?” I ask.  “You love having your sore hole stretched and filled.  I bet you wish my cock was bigger, don’t you?  Such a greedy slut.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, Ma’am, what?”

“Yes, I love having my hole filled.  I love that you keep me sore, and I love being your greedy slut.”

“That’s my good boy.”

I speed up, slamming my cock into you, mercilessly pounding your aching hole until you’re gasping and whimpering and unconsciously pulling away, hoping I’ll stop.

But I don’t stop.  I tighten my grip on your collar, holding you against me as I continue fucking you.

“Stay still,” I command.  “Take it like a good little bitch.  If you do a good job, I’ll reward you later, before bed.”

You close your eyes and grit your teeth, tense and panting as I brutally fuck you, wanting more than anything to please me, to be a good boy, to take my cock because it’s what I want.  You have no idea how long I’ve been fucking you like this, and you have no idea how much longer it’ll be before I stop.  All you can do is endure.

Finally, I abruptly pull out of you and release my hold on your collar.  The movement is so sudden, you gasp with the surprise and have to catch your self from falling forward.  I walk into the next room, taking off the strap-on as I go.  Sighing, your hole stinging and throbbing, you collapse on your side on the bed, sweating and panting.  You close your eyes and wait for me to come back, wondering what I’ll do to you next.

A minute later, you feel me lying down behind you.  With a gentle, soft touch, I spread your cheeks and slowly push a thick plug inside of you, pausing for a moment at the point where it’s at its widest before sliding it all the way in.

With my other hand, I pull you close against me, gently licking and nibbling your ear as I slowly, tenderly pull the plug almost all the way back out and push it all the way back in.

“That’s a very good boy,” I whisper.  Then I sit up and turn the TV on while you curl up in my lap, spent and sated, the plug still inside you.