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A dream

I had this dream last night…

In the middle of the night, Belle and I are in bed, and the doorbell rings. She comes back to the room and sleepily tells me the hooker she got for me has arrived. I get up, as if this is normal, to greet the hooker out in the living room. It was our house, but not our house, in only the way it can/can’t be in a dream. So I start chatting the hooker up, feeling pretty good about Belle letting me have her but wondering what I’m supposed to do with her since I’m locked up. I can’t remember what she looked like, but she was young and had sandy blond hair. I wanted to get her clothes off and, at various times, they were, but then not again. The entire time I’m doing this, the hooker just won’t shut up. She keeps talking and showing me pictures of herself in yearbooks and pornos she made on the internet, etc. Eventually, we find ourselves in the kitchen of my mother-in-law’s house (but, you know, not my mother-in-law’s house). Somehow I’m not real clear on, I find myself behind the hooker and feeling her nipples by reaching around. They’re really small. Like, freakishly small. But very hard. I decide it’s time to get to business since it seems like we’ve been beating around the bush (so to speak) for hours. I go back to the guest bedroom where Belle is and tell her to go to her bed and that I’ll take the hooker in the guest room (seems the only gentlemanly thing to do). She groggily gets up an goes to the other room. I think to ask her to remove the device so I can, you know, do something, but before the words come out, I find the brass lock on the Steelheart in four pieces in my hand. It’s somehow broken (at least the third dream where the device I’m wearing breaks). I take the device off and put it next to Belle in bed, who by this time has fallen back asleep. Like she doesn’t care one way or the other what I do with the hooker. So I go back to find the hooker in the living room and she’s trying to show me another video she made and I suggest we go back to the bed. I start to walk down my mother-in-law’s (but not) hallway and it just goes on and on and on with twists and turns and it’s all dark and crowded with big dressers and bureaus and giant oak coat racks and stuff way too big for a hallway. I get to the room, which has the only lit lamp in the place, and find the fucking hooker’s not with me so I go back and find her somewhere in the hall, still talking about whatever the fuck she’s been talking about the whole time. I get her into bed (wondering, frankly, if Belle’s paying her by the hour or by the fuck) and try to get her to focus on her damned job for just a second. All I need is one second. Somehow, it seems like something’s about to happen, but she’s still not focusing on her task, and I’m starting to get hard. I’m crawling on top or behind or somewhere and I feel the erection and it’s starting to get heavy and hurt. I’m just about to actually, finally, slip it in when…

The pain from maybe the most intense erection I’ve had in the Steelheart wakes me up. I’m laying next to Belle, arm up her shirt against the skin of her back, leg thrown over hers, and hornier than I’ve felt in a really long time.

Fucking dreams.

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Service

One of the fundamental aspects of the D/s flavor described by Ms. Rika in her book can be summed up by the phrase “true submission is not about what the domme does to the sub, it’s about what the sub does for the domme.” In her opinion, if as a sub you aren’t prepared to embrace that as true you aren’t really a submissive. That’s not to say you don’t enjoy bottoming in a scene, but if you’re really submissive, you want to serve the top all of the time. It has taken me a year to really come to understand that.

I will admit right here that I’m not the coolest kid in the BDSM class and can only just begin to understand how that POV might set some folks off, but regardless, it make sense to me. A lot of sense. As Belle and I have wound our way down our version of the D/s garden path, I have felt that need to serve her grow and grow. As I said the other day, this would seem to run counter to my inclination to be selfish in the rest of my life. What I think now is that these two impulses (the selfishly service-oriented sub) are not contradictory. In one sense, the fact that I am selfish and self-centered only throws into sharp relief how very important my service to Belle is. It’s hard. Really hard. But, as has often been observed, the only things in life worth having usually are. Also, one could construe the fact that I have led our relationship to the point where I am allowed to serve as her sub as fundamentally selfish since it was all my idea to begin with and I seem to have been the driving force behind the gradual evolution of our dynamic in this direction. I have no problem with this interpretation because, at the end of the day, it makes me very happy. I could not have brought Belle here against her will, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. I pushed for it because of how it makes me feel as much as because I wanted to make her feel good. Is there conflict in that statement? I don’t think so.

Last night, Belle stopped at this sentence in a comment left by Micheal_X:

There is also the argument that in D/s the submissive serves the dominant and the dominant serves the relationship.

My interpretation of that means that while I dedicate myself to her service, I am also placing a great deal of faith in her that she will not take it for granted. She will do what is necessary to ensure my continued happiness. This does not mean she will indulge my every fantasy, of course, and whatever she does she’ll do from her dominant position in the relationship (what, when, how long all decided by her), but along with my service she also receives my faith that she will look out for my emotional needs. This, more than anything, is what I’ve struggled with in our D/s dynamic in the past. Faith. Honestly, it’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life. It’s one of the reasons this is so scary for me. Whatever I get out of the relationship (other than the things I bring with me or create internally) will be coming from her and I will have essentially no control over them.

Dev highlights the peril of this leap of faith in here:

I just feel pessimistic about the whole endeavor.  What are you supposed to do if you’re married or partnered with a person you love, but your sexualities are really not very compatible?  I have no idea, and maybe this type of advice is as good as it gets.  “Stop trying to turn your wife into a leather-clad dominatrix” I can get on board with.  “Find out what her needs are and where you can find common ground so that you can serve her” – sure, that’s a good idea.  But how much of your sexuality are you willing to give up, and how far are you willing to ask your partner to bend to meet you?

Of course, she was asking rhetorical questions about a rhetorical couple, but I agree that transferring to Belle as much control as I have leaves me open to a very large potential downside. But, Belle “serves the relationship” and I’m part of that. I know Belle will do enough of what I find sexually satisfying to keep me happy. She may even do more than she already has. I trust she will ensure our D/s dynamic will always be a two-way street (where the rules of the road are hers, of course).

Rika suggests the sub should list the things he wants to do with and for his dominant partner. To the best of my recollection, she says this list should include all kinds of things, from the mundane (make your coffee) to the exotic (use your imagination). She then suggests the dominant go through that list and mark the things she’s not at all interested in, the things she will accept as part of routine service, and the things she’s willing to provide as gifts to the sub. Not as rewards, but gifts.

As an aside, this “no rewards” thing is something I struggle with because, like most people, I want my friggin’ rewards! But I get where she’s coming from. I shouldn’t serve Belle because I want rewards. I should do it because I want to. Her recognition of a job well done should be reward enough. As soon as I absorbed that, I found that’s what I really wanted all along. Not the act of the reward, but the recognition that motivated it. Now, when Belle tells me I’ve done a good job, I get an unbelievably satisfying rush of emotion (just before the feeling that I could have done better).

Anyway, this idea of making a list and then marking the items “no”, “always”, and “sometimes” is incredibly efficient and straightforward. And there’s nothing to say I can’t add things to the list as they come to me or that she can’t change her mind about some things as we go along, but isn’t that approach better than constantly haranguing and cajoling a reluctant partner into doing something? Better than living in hope that that one thing might someday happen if you can only figure out the right way to position the prospect? Remember my fascination with Belle allowing me to use a strap-on to bring her to orgasm? Yeah, that was fun. When she finally put her foot down and squashed the idea totally, I actually found myself at peace (though you can bet your sweet ass it’s going on my list just in case she’s had a change of heart).

For what it’s worth, here’s the initial list of household tasks I have offered to Belle:

  • I will make all the beds every day.
  • I will make her coffee every day.
  • I will feed the kids breakfast every day.
  • I will take the dog out every morning.
  • I will do all of the laundry, including folding and putting away.
  • I will pick up both kids from school at least twice a week (normally we each get one).
  • I will prepare a majority of the dinners and be primarily responsible for all the dishes.
  • I will take out the trash and recyclables and make sure they get to the curb on time.

 
I am allowed to delegate some of these things to our 11-year-old son, but am still responsible for getting them done.

Belle asked me last night if it was better for me to have a list versus just a general expectation. I told her I need the list. The list is not all-inclusive, but it does represent a baseline against which I need to perform. I will always look for other things to do as the opportunities arise and I encouraged her to task me with anything else she wants me to do, but I like the routine the list provides. It’s dependable.

Yesterday, she made one of the beds before I could get around to it. She said she was only trying to make things a little easier. Of course, that makes perfect sense. It’s the thing any normal person would do. But I took it as mark of failure. That was my job. I was going to do it, I just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. For me, it’s close to her rejecting my service. We both know it’s going to be hard for her to walk by something like an unmade bed and not make it, so we both have things we need to work on.

So anyway, I’m just kind of rambling here. Expounding on the idea of service since it’s the shiny new thing. Writing this helps me assemble how I feel and think and, of course, helps lay it all out for Belle.

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Belle replies, Part 1

Sera asked:

I’d like to hear what Belle finds hot about Thumper–what’s the sexiest thing about him to you, BF?

Also, what is the appeal of Pink, and where can I find one?

Hello Everyone!

I look forward to answering your questions. I’m sure it will help me better understand myself and ponder my POV on this journey.  I’ve started with Sera’s question because it was the one to which I had the most spontaneous and complete answer.

What do I find hot about Thumper?

  1. The tuft of hair that sits at the nape of his neck.  It is a physical aspect of his to which I had an immediate attraction from the very first time I met him.  Staring at it still makes me weak in the knees and moist in the crotch.  It is extremely comforting and powerful, in a territorial sort of fashion, for me to be able to stroke those hairs.
  2. His incredibly complex, confident and intelligent mind.  Thinking about the fact that such a dominant and thoughtful brain wants to submit and serve me is a very powerful and sexy notion.  This is probably what I’ve always found sexiest about him.
  3. The way my cock looks in the Steelworxx.  It makes the CB6K look like a bottle of Colt 45 compared to a bottle of Grey Goose, Belevedere, Kaufmann, Trump (pick your choice distinctive bottle of premium vodka).

 
What is the appeal of Pink, and where can I find one?

OMG Pink.  I have been quite flabbergasted by how I have grown to love and appreciate this device.  The beauty of Pink, IMO, rests in the perfect combination of its simplicity, beauty and power.  It is sleek, smooth and uncomplicated; as if Steve Jobs had willed the perfect vibrator into existence.  Thumper also bought me a Rabbit but it pales in comparison to the ease, comfort and beauty of Pink.

As to where to find one, Thumper has already provided you with the link to it on Eden Toys.

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DS-ney

OK, maybe I’m seeing things. Maybe I’ve just got it bad. But…um…well…

Look at this scan from a French magazine article on the next Disney feature Rapunzel.

I mean, come on! She’s got him tied up. With her hair. He’s begging. She’s obviously in control of the situation. Almost like he’s her prisoner…

Yeah, OK. I need a hobby.

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The nose on my face

Back in September of last year, I bought Belle Uniquely Rika. Over the course of the past week, Belle’s read most of it. She seemed to resonate with much of it and asked me to read it, too. I’m about half way through now and, I have to say, it’s blown my mind.

Before I go further, I’ll say this is not the post where I actually discuss Rika’s approach. I have questions (as do others), but I’m not done with the book yet so I think trying to get into it now would be premature.

As I sat there in my sudsy warm bathwater (who doesn’t read in the bath? and who knew “bathwater” was one word?) and I read the Rika Way® (which, even though I’m not actually discussing it, does seem to make more than a little sense to me) I was suddenly struck by something very profound. Something I’ve danced around and paid lip-service, but have not really owned up to. Something that has, oddly enough, left me somewhat shaken.

I am submissive.

Seriously, I know. Isn’t that ridiculous? Like, it says that right up there in the blog description. “Submissively inclined.” I’ve known this. But no. It’s different now. I’m not submissively inclined. I am submissive, period. I really can’t describe how finally and fully realizing this seemed like a massive chasm suddenly opened up underneath me. I actually felt a bit of weightlessness in my chest. Both terrifying and exciting.

I have, in the back of my mind, always clung to this idea that I might be a switch. Not that it mattered much since Belle’s unlikely to ever let me top her and she’ll never let me top anyone else, but I clung to it. Like a blanket. Like a thing that made me feel better but was actually totally worthless. Now I know, thanks to Rika and what she wrote and how it finally knocked the final pieces into place, that I’m not ever going to be a switch. I am, in fact, always going to be on the bottom. And that freaks me the fuck out.

First of all, I admit to carrying around a prejudice against submissive males. Submissives in general kinda creep me out. It makes no sense, I know, but that’s what it is. It’s like I’m the white supremacist who just discovered the black grandmother he never knew about or the uber-masculine father of 12 who suddenly figured out he was gay. This is all horrible and all nasty and sad and not anything I’m happy about, but I see now that I’ve never fully embraced my submissive nature because I don’t especially like the archetype as it exists in our culture. In fact, there is no archetype. No role model. Nothing positive to look towards. Just layer after layer of stereotype and ridicule and cultural indifference. And now I know I’m one of them.

Second, I’m very self-centered. Always thinking about myself and how I can get what I want from a situation. Always thinking about my needs and my POV and how I know what’s right and everyone else just hasn’t figured it out yet. You can’t be a self-centered submissive, right? That’s not actually possible, right? Who’s ever heard of that?

Finally, based on the first two points, I’m very afraid of failure. Of not being able to live up to the ideal I’m even now creating in my head of what a good submissive partner needs to be. Not someone playing at submissiveness, but an actual submissive. How can I embrace something that gives me the creeps? How can I square my selfishness against my desire to serve Belle?

I admit I’m freaking out. Overreacting. Not making an abundance of sense. As Belle said several times yesterday, we’re already living 80% of what Rika describes. But that other 20% is a big 20%. What I feel opening inside me is maybe the biggest emotional and relationship challenge I’ve faced. It scares me. The thing I’ve been approaching from the periphery, while always looking in another direction, for over a year now scares me like never before. Understand, I do not doubt. I know what I am because of the wave of warm euphoria that washes over me when I think about it and how Rika’s words ring so true and (frankly) the way it chubs out the contents of the tube (every male’s divining rod). It feels true.

But now what? How do I move forward? And honestly, how much more of a prat could I actually be?

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Change of plans

So yeah, last night was my supposed to be my next chance at an orgasm, but no, it didn’t happen. Belle came down with menstruation early in the afternoon and, since she prefers I come inside her, she decided to postpone the event. Instead of coming, she said I’d get a little personal abuse time. To be honest, I felt it was more than a fair trade. Like last time, it consisted of using the butterfly clamps on my nipples combined with testicle pain. The thing that made it especially notable is that Belle’s getting really good at this stuff.

She started out by attaching the clamps flat against my chest as opposed to perpendicular as before. This meant any pulling of the chain not only pulled on my nipples, but also twisted them. In addition, she clamped just the very tips. How they stayed on without gripping any of the fleshy bits is beyond me, but the sensation was a laser-intense pain on either side. Instead of just pulling randomly, she would wind the chain around her finger, slowly and purposefully, raising my expectation of the coming hurt several notches. Then she’d pull. The shorter chain meant more intensity and sensation with her every movement. She also used the chains to more purposefully direct my movement, like a bridle on a horse. God, they still hurt right now, almost 24 hours later.

She also mixed up how she slapped my nuts around. Instead of single hard impacts, she’d perform a series of light slaps that escalated in force until she was rapidly slapping me rather hard. Again and again, she’d build a cascade of slaps up to nearly a hard punch at the end, intermingled with light and really rather pleasant stroking of what had become a very tight scrotum thanks to the steel ring and swelling cock. Before long, the lingering pain from each assault coalesced into one long, aching torment. That unique pain radiated into my guts and down into my inner thighs as she moved back in for each round, pushing my legs out of the way if necessary. It was…fucking awesome. I passed over the threshold of involuntary self-preservation and started to open my legs wider, leaning into her strikes. Craving them. Silently urging her to hit me harder.

When she was done with me, she gently stroked my inner arm, a place of heightened sensation for me. She uses that place to calm me down and it works. Even with throbbing, burning nipples and aching balls, shortly after she started I felt the bite of the Steelheart’s ring ease as the meat inside released its erection.I felt very spacey, very warm, and very happily hurt.

“I’m going to do this for 30 more seconds, and then you’re going to get Pink,” she whispered in my ear.

She didn’t seem interested in having an orgasm earlier in the evening. Had the infliction of pain on me aroused her? I don’t know. I still haven’t asked. But as soon as she stopped, I reached into my drawer and took out her favorite sex toy. As she came, she grabbed the device out of my hand and pressed it hard against her clit.

Another intense orgasm for her. An awesomely satisfying scene for me.

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Ask Belle

One of the things I’ve always wanted in this blog is a better way to present Belle’s voice. You hear plenty of mine, that’s for sure, but with Belle all you get is my filtered, reinterpreted reflection of her. Occasionally, she’ll chime in in the comments, but the fact remains that this is blog represents the POV of just one of us.

Anyway, Ferns has this cool thing over on her blog where she asked her readers to give her questions. Some of the most interesting answers came to questions directed at Ferns’ boy. Which made me think. I am not above stealing a good idea when I see one.

Therefore, I’m officially asking you, my readers, to ask Belle questions. What do you want to know from her? She’ll answer them here at a later date, in her own words, not mine. I suppose it’s possible none of you have any questions for her, but that’d surprise me.

So lets have it. Ask away!

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Key card

Recently, in my post about how impossible the Steelheart is to get out of, Sera asked the following in a comment:

This is probably a naive question but . . . do you worry about being “locked in” in an emergency situation?

And you know what? Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t think it’s very likely that I’ll need to get the device off for any reason (emergency or otherwise), but it does make more than a little sense to have the option when absolutely necessary. This morning, I took the spare key and made this.

The key for the Steelheart’s integrated lock is, as you can see, pretty long. Much longer than any other key we’ve used. What I’ve done is tape it to a piece of paper that has Belle’s signature and the date. That paper is taped to my old Best Buy RewardCard (oh, the irony) and over that is multiple layers of extra tape with little blue happy face stickers between every other layer or so. The tape wraps completely around the card. This picture, besides being posted here, was also emailed to Belle in its original resolution. I’ll carry the card around with me, either in my wallet or my computer bag, and present it to her when demanded to prove that it’s integrity has not been compromised (unlike my own which was not only compromised but also subsequently abandoned by the side of a lonely desert road back in my mid-teens).

I can’t see how I’d be able to unwrap the thing and still have it look like it does now. The happy faces would get tweaked and, even if they didn’t, the paper with her signature would likely tear. It may not be perfect, but I’m hardly a security risk (even though I have been known to pick my own lock).

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Potpourri

About a year ago, I discovered a little statue made by Auguste Rodin called Eternal Idol over on Male Submission Art and fell in love with it. I have no idea if Rodin was subbie, but he’s perfectly captured a moment of male submission in this work. Ever since I found it, I’ve been thinking of getting a copy for Belle but was never able to find one that didn’t look like ass. Asking the Google brings up a ton of links to one particularity nasty knock-off and only a few to the one pictured above (in fact, so obscure, I can’t even find it again). It’s a copy made from the original and currently resides on Belle’s nightstand, a Christmas present from her little bunny.

In other news, I can report that the miracle of human adaptability is again taking place in my pants. When I first got the Steelheart back from the Fatherland, I told you the ring was very tight. Almost too tight. On the border of intolerably tight, to be honest. It woke me up several times a night with its tightness and the accompanying testicular pain. Now, just over a week later, I’ve somehow adjusted. It’s still tight, but the testicular aching is gone. It now wakes me up just like the CB6K did once I got used to it. Somewhere between 5:00 and 6:00, my stainless alarm clock pulls me out of my sleep and makes me get up and pee. This morning, I could have even stayed in bed. I expect that soon, I’ll sleep right though it.

I’d love to know what’s going on when that happens. Are things moving around in there? Are the pain receptors burning out? I don’t notice anything different on the outside, but somehow the very same device is causing my body to react differently. It’s amazing, if you think about it, that a guy can have a thing like this strapped to him and eventually just roll with it.

Yesterday, to celebrate our day off, Belle and I had sex. We brought the rabbit vibe out for only its second performance. I suggested we try to dollar-cost average its per-use expense down from $110/orgasm to only $55/orgasm. Maybe even lower if she liked it. Last time, she used it on herself and I watched. This time, I wanted to use it on her. I still have, even though I’m unable to do it myself, a strong urge to fuck her. Her usual stand-by, Pink the vibrator, is very nice, but not really a fucking tool. It’s too small. I know, it’s not really about me and all, but I’m interpreting Belle’s Rule to mean after 72 hours, I can lobby for anything.

Anyway, at first she declined the rabbit. She wanted my fingers. So, like the dutifully denied husband that I am, I let go of the rabbit idea and started to work on her. There was no rush since we were home alone and it was the middle of the morning. I climbed above her and kissed her nipples and started to stroke her pussy in an unhurried way. The device was soon filled and straining and, since I was above her, hanging down and bumping into her. I moved between her legs and pressed its warm hardness into her snatch. I rubbed it against her clit, not really knowing if it would do anything for her. But it did. She liked it.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad, Belle Fille.”

“Then go ahead. Try it.”

I started to press the Steelheart into her pussy. I could feel her heat radiate through it, but felt no other sensation other than the familiar pressure of the tube restraining me. Its downward curve made any kind of real fucking impossible, but I could feel it being enveloped by her while I fingered her clit. Every little cell in my brain was pushing me to fuck her, and even though a perfectly hard cock was a fraction of an inch away from a wet and willing pussy, it was not to be.

“Get the rabbit,” she said.

I hopped out of bed, hot steel swinging between my legs, and got the rabbit vibe from our toy box. I couldn’t find any lube, so I stuck it my mouth and covered it with spit. After warming it up under the covers for a minute while I worked on increasing her natural lube, I turned it on.

Now, I was really fucking her. The rabbit’s vibrating ears tickled her clit while the lavender head of the shaft (noticeably bigger than me) worked in and out. One hand on the vibe, the other on one nipple, my mouth on the other, she soon was going over the falls and having what seemed to me a pretty serious orgasm.

After a few moments of basking, I asked to be beaten. She said she would and ordered me up on my hands and knees. Then she whipped my ass and upper thighs with the crop. I can’t say how long it went on, but I’m sure my ass was glowing red when it was over. It stung for the better part of the day as we went to the movies and just hung out together. I think I must have told her half a dozen times how much I liked the beating. We so seldom get to do that now that all our hitty toys are so noisy…

Finally, Belle told me that my initial showed up on her calendar again. After only two weeks, I’ll be allowed another orgasm this Saturday (or thereabouts). She told me that any freedom from the device would be short-lived since its presence keeps me properly focused. She made me admit that I knew it was true. It is. I’m a much better bunny when I’m in my cage.