Learning Obedience

Kazander texted me while he was out Sunday and said he had a “surprise” for me when he got home.  And I, being the very personification of patience that I am, waited.

I was out running an errand when he got home, and when I got back, I walked in the door to see him lying on the couch watching TV, wearing his lace panties and lacy lingerie, along with his collar and a leash.

Well, I know what I’m doing tonight.

“Oooh, good boy,” I said, walking in and putting my purse down.

“I’m plugged, too, Mistress.”

Very good boy…

Man, sometimes it’s really awesome not having the kid around.

I sat down on the couch next to him and reached between his legs, running my nails lightly across his balls through the lace of his panties.  It’s a small, simple thing that never fails to get his attention.  Something about the nails through the lace just feels amazing.

Within seconds, he was hard, his poor little cock trying to burst through the cage.  I have no idea when the last time he came was.  He says it’s been a month.  I seriously doubt that.

But it has been locked up for awhile, and the poor boy was desperate for some kind of release.  So I took the cage off and began teasing him, stroking him and playing with the head until he was squirming and moaning like the little bitch he is.

We like to watch porn together, so I set up a video to watch, and settled in next to him, playing with his nipples and his cock, reaching between his legs to finger him.

Less than halfway through the video, my lust got the best of me and I told him I wanted him on all fours on the couch.  He did as he was told while I went to the bedroom and grabbed my strap-on and my smallest paddle.  It’s light and stingy, and makes a boy’s ass so deliciously red.

First, I worked him over with the paddle, making him squirm and whimper some more.  I kept going until he was nice and red, warm and stinging.  Then I knelt behind him on the couch and entered him smoothly, sinking my cock in all the way to the hilt.  The way he gasped and moaned was so sexy.

I fucked him for awhile, reminding him that he’s my bitch, and that he’s not allowed to have sex with me like a real man.  I told him that real men get to fuck their wives.  The only penetrative sex he can hope for is if I make him fuck or get a blowjob from another boy.  Otherwise, he gets bent over and fucked like the bitch he is.

After a good, long, thorough fucking, I let him relax for a bit while we finished watching the video.  Then, I took him back to the bedroom and sat on his face, jerking him off.  I told him I’d let him cum, since he’d been such a good boy.

He kept talking, which meant he wasn’t worshiping my pussy, and that got annoying in about 6 seconds.  So I told him to shut up, and kept stroking him.

And about 8 seconds later, he said something again.  His voice was muffled by my body, and I couldn’t hear him.  I stopped stroking him and lifted myself off to better hear what he was saying.

As it turns out, he said he was going to cum, and since I stopped to ask what he’d said, it ruined his orgasm.  Which, of course, I found hilarious.

“Maybe next time you’ll do what you’re told,” I said, satisfied that the ruined orgasm, when he was promised a full one, was punishment enough for talking after he’d been told not to.

“But I told you that I was going to cum,” he said.  “I didn’t think you’d want to be surprised.”

“I told you I was going to make you cum.  I knew it was going to happen.  I told you to stop talking.  You didn’t do what you were told, and it cost you a satisfying orgasm.”

I let him clean himself up.  Then, he asked if I’d be willing to let him sleep with the cage off, and he’d put it on the next day when he got home from work.

Yeah, I’ve heard that before.

I initially told him no.  He sighed, reluctantly going to put it on, and I asked why it was so important.  He said he just wanted a good night’s sleep, and that he promised he’d put it on when he got home.

I narrowed my eyes at him.  “You’ll put it on right when you get home?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I decided to let him sleep without the cage.

Sure enough, when he got home, it didn’t go on.  That’s twice in two days that he didn’t take obedience seriously.

Even when I mentioned the cage, he didn’t put it on.

Yeah, no.

I didn’t say anything, but just waited.  Finally, around 12:30am, he got around to putting the cage on.  He got home from work at 7.

“So it took you 5 1/2 hours to put it on.”

There wasn’t a hit of remorse in his voice as he fed me some excuse I didn’t care enough about to pay attention to.

“I think 10 spankings for every hour is good.”

He sighed, trying not to roll his eyes.  I told him to get on all fours in the middle of the living room, and went back to the bedroom to get my paddle again.

I stood above him, straddling him to keep him still, and started in with the paddle.  There was no warm-up like there was the previous night.  I hit him hard and fast, ten at a time.

Before I finished the first ten, he was squirming and gasping.  After every set of ten, I took a break, running the tips of my fingers over the warm, tender skin.

“I don’t think you quite understand what it means to be obedient,” I told him.  “And it’s time for you to learn.  Your job is to be the worthless, pathetic bitch you are and do what the fuck you’re told.  My commands are not, by any means, open to interpretation.  This is not a relationship between equals.  I own you.  You’re not my husband, you’re my property.  You’ll learn to live up to my expectations, or I’ll beat you until you scream.”

He was already screaming by the time I hit the halfway point, but I didn’t hold back.  The last five were particularly brutal, and when I was done, I stepped back to admire my handiwork.

He stayed where he was, his head resting on his arms, his face obscured by his hair, trying to calm his breathing.  I told him to stand up and pressed my body against his, reaching down to caress the burning skin of his ass with one hand, and with the other I pinched and twisted his nipple until he whimpered and melted into me, burying his face against my neck.

“Are you going to do what you’re told from now on?” I asked him.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s a good boy.”

He’s still got a lot of learning to do, but even the most stubborn dog can be trained with a firm, consistent hand.  Other things have caused me to be way more lenient with him lately than I used to be, but that’s over and done with.  I’ve never made it a secret that I have zero interest in a vanilla relationship and an equal dynamic, and he can either meet my expectations, or he can experience how unpleasant my disappointment can be, and just how dark and twisted I can get.

The silly boy has no idea…

Submissive Men

Submissive men are far and away my favorite people in the world. I respect them, admire them, and adore them.

Of course, that’s especially true for the men I own, but really just in general, I’m a huge fangirl of submissive men. Seriously, they’re a thousand kinds of awesome.

Trying to articulate why they’re awesome is harder than I thought it would be. There are so many reasons.

There’s nothing sweeter than a boy curling up in my lap after being used hard, completely spent and sated, moaning softly as he clings to me.

There’s nothing sexier than the way his voice changes, the way it gets higher the more I push him. That little whine that all submissive men seem to know how to do is my favorite sound in the world. Once I hear that sound, I know I’ve got him in the palm of my hand.

I love the feeling of lying on my side behind a man, holding him close and kissing his neck and ear while I slowly fuck him, thoroughly claiming him while he whimpers and squirms in my arms.

I love that moment where a switch flips in his mind, when he goes from merely tolerating anal to loving it, when he starts to push back against me, moaning and gasping, urging me to go deeper, harder.

I love being able to control him, even from a distance. A well-placed text message can hit him like a hammer to the chest, a stark reminder of what he is and who he belongs to.

I could go on and on. There are more things I love about submissive men than there are stars in the sky. But while the kink is great, and I’ll never complain about how sweet and deliciously needy and slutty they are, it goes so much deeper than that.

A submissive man willingly opens himself up, shows a level of trust and vulnerability that is just astounding to me.  He’s not a weak man, but he allows his Owner to make him weak, to bring him low, to break him, to make him cry.

He’s chivalrous and honorable, a perfect gentleman, going out of his way to serve his Owner, putting her needs before his own.  Anticipating her desires and striving to meet her expectations.  He works constantly to better himself, to better satisfy her.  To be the boy he feels she deserves.

He gives her his heart, sure.  Everyone in a relationship does that.  But a submissive man takes it so much further.

He gives his Owner his body, to use however she wants.  He gives up his bodily autonomy, offering himself to her (a precious gift that is not always easy to give), enduring everything she puts him through, tolerating the things he doesn’t like, and doesn’t want, because her happiness is more important than his, and because his body is a gift he’s given to her.

He gives her his mind, the most courageous thing a human being can do, completely opening up, letting her explore him, despite his fear, despite the fact that such a level of vulnerability terrifies him.  He lets her in, he lets her see the parts of himself he doesn’t like, the parts he wishes were different, the parts he’s afraid of.  He lets her see him at his worst, at his lowest, at his weakest.  He lets her mold him, guide him, lets her create in him a perfect union of his strengths and hers.

He is loyal and faithful to her.  He is protective of her, always looking to make her happy, to make her life easier, to shield her from pain and stress even as she’s shielding him.  If he sees her walking down the wrong path, he gently tells her, using his unique perspective to show her something she might have missed.  He supports her, advises her, and uses every skill and talent he possesses to serve her.  Her happiness is his first priority.

A submissive man obeys.  With every command given, he makes the conscious decision to follow her, to yield to her, to once again express his loyalty and his love in such a simple, profound way.  He chooses her will over his own and gives himself over to her desires.

A submissive man creates, with his Owner, a level of intimacy far and beyond anything else imaginable.  He gives her all of himself, he offers his whole being to her, he lets her use him, lets her inside him. He submits to her desire, her lust, willingly and eagerly becoming the instrument through which she experiences her bliss.

He becomes her release. Through him, through using his body and manipulating his mind, she is able to shrug off the daily stresses and anxieties that cling to her. By submitting to her, by offering himself to her, he allows her to express herself, to explore herself, to learn about who she is.

A submissive man helps his Owner grow and improve as a person. By trusting her, he helps her learn to trust herself. By submitting to her, he helps improve her confidence. By relying on her, he helps her learn self-discipline. He realizes that she is human, and that she’s never done growing, and he makes it his goal to help her in any way he can.

A submissive man yields to the guidance, the influence, the control of his Owner completely. He gives himself wholly to her. It’s not a gift that is given just once. It’s a gift he actively gives every day, with every decision he makes. And with that gift, he fills a hole in her that only he can fill. His submission strengthens her, just as her leadership strengthens him.

A submissive man lies at his Owner’s feet, at the ready to protect her and serve her, completely devoted to her, completely hers.  It’s a unique, profound connection that can’t be found anywhere else.

Our First Anniversary: Part 2

Sunday night was great.  I went to sleep completely sated and exhausted, and Kazander went to sleep frustrated, denied, and horny.


We didn’t get to bed until around 3:30 or 4 in the morning, so by the time we got up and dressed, it was lunchtime.  We decided to have lunch at the Mexican restaurant in the casino, but Kazander was surprised when I stopped him on his way out the door.

“You’re forgetting something,” I told him, holding one hand behind my back.

“What am I forgetting?”

I showed him the butt plug that was in my hand, then turned him and bent him over the edge of the bed.  I pulled his pants down to his knees, lubed up the plug, and slid it inside him.  He was still a little raw from the night before, but he took the plug without complaint and we made our way downstairs.

After lunch, we went and saw that Bodies exhibit at the Luxor, and then I took pity on him and let him go back up to the room to take the plug out.  He’d kept it in for a couple of hours, and we were planning on walking the Strip and doing the whole “tourist-y” thing.

So the day was just spent hanging out, the two of us enjoying each other’s company.  We came back to the hotel and relaxed for a bit before dinner.  We had a nice, romantic dinner, had some drinks at the bar, and I discovered this little place in the casino that sells alcoholic slushies, for lack of a better way to describe them.  And they were very reasonably priced.

The problem is they don’t taste like they have any alcohol in them at all.  After my third, I felt fine.  A little pleasantly buzzed, but still in control and feeling good.  But then, halfway through my fourth, it all hit me at once.  I was completely plastered.

We went back up to the hotel room around 11, stopping by Starbucks to get another coffee to mix with the rest of the Baileys, and I immediately got the bath going.

I love that tub, by the way.

I love that tub, by the way.

I relaxed and sobered up a bit while Kazander packed our things.  It was our last night, and I sure as hell didn’t want to have to wake up early to pack.

By the time he was done, I’d sobered up quite a bit.  He gave me a shoulder rub, then I got out, rinsed off, dried off, and lied down on the bed next to him.

I’d promised him he could cum, as long as he behaved himself, so I took him out of his cage and teased him, sort of idly playing with him and degrading him while we looked at porn together on his computer.  Before long, he was rock-hard and squirming, begging to be allowed to cum.

He’d had almost as much to drink as I had, though, and just jerking him off wasn’t going to work.  So he asked me if he could ride my dick.

He really is so cute when he begs.  Seriously.  It’s adorable.

He pulled the strapon out of the bag and I slid it on, then he straddled me and guided the dildo inside him.  I put a hand around his dick and held it still, making him do all the work to get himself off.  He had to fuck himself on the dildo to get off.

And I do love watching him ride me.  He really gets into it, fucking himself hard and fast, pushing himself to get even faster to get himself off sooner.

It’s sexy as fuck.

It didn’t take long for him to reach that edge.  He came pretty quickly.

But it didn’t shoot out, like it normally does.  It just sort of dribbled out, similar to a ruined orgasm.  That was weird, but it could’ve been caused by him having so much to drink.  But then, he made the comment that it almost felt cold as it was coming out.  It’s the second time in a row that he’s mentioned it feeling cold.  And I’d noticed earlier that day, as well as the day before, that his balls felt cold.  I assumed it was because he was naked in a chilly room, when he’s not usually naked at home, because of the spawn running around.

So the cage stayed off, and I’m going to let him cum again tonight.  If it still feels cold, I’m calling to make him an appointment to get that checked out.

The cage isn’t the cause of it, because the first time it happened, he hadn’t worn the cage for a week or so.  But even with that, I think it would be best to leave the cage off and see how things go.

But still, that’s fucking weird, and a bunch of Google searches didn’t help in the slightest.  Has anyone ever heard of that?  It’s not cold to the touch afterward, he says it actually feels cold as he’s coming… as the semen is coming out.

So yeah, if that continues, it’s definitely getting checked out.

But it was an awesome anniversary weekend.  I’m going to be a little gentle with Kazander this week (and with Sounder, as well…. I kind of have to laugh.  I have three boys, and two of them are partially out of commission at the same time.  Gotta love that timing).

But being gentle doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.  I’m going to start our second year of marriage off with some kinky fun, and I’ve got plans to see Sounder on Friday, and then hopefully the party on Saturday.  Sure, I love hurting both of them, but I absolutely don’t have to be rough with them to enjoy myself.  I have a very soft touch when I want to.

So yeah, definitely looking forward to the next seven days!