Tag: body service

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Going down

Earlier, in the kitchen, I was kissing Belle in that endearing, pathetically horny way I have when I whispered that I needed to do something for her tonight. Mind you, I wasn’t asking for sex because I’m not allowed to do that. Rather, I simply had the urge to service her in a direct way (as opposed to the indirect ways around the house, etc.)

Once in bed, she told me she was going to let me rub her feet with lotion, but that I had to take my clothes off first since it was much hotter for her that way (and, you know, I hate being naked around her). I got the lotion, dropped trou, and straddled her legs to get better leverage. I try to go about about 10 minutes per foot and found that half way through the first one that I was getting a light sheen of sweat all over my body from the effort. She commented on it. I’m sure I was glistening well in the candlelight.

Once the feet were soft and rubbed, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and rejoined her at the head of the bed (though, I’m careful to be lower in the bed than she is so I’m always looking up and she’s always looking down). I then received the very happy news that she was going to let me give her an orgasm. Normally, I’d ask how she wanted it, but I really wanted to go down on her so I neglected to request direction. That’s possibly a violation of the spirit of our Covenant (going for what I wanted sexually) and she can punish me for it once she reads this if she wants, but it turned out pretty well for both of us.

I warmed her up a bit in the usual manner with my hands in her snatch and my mouth on her nipples before diving in. Half the pleasure of going down there is to bask in her scent. The denial amplifies the phermonal effects (or something). Even as I write this, I can still smell it on my face and hands and it’s wonderful. There’s something very primal about rutting around in your mate’s scent. I feel marked.

Anyway, I was lapping her up and sucking on her clit while fingering her and really having a good time. However, I sensed somehow that it wasn’t really heading in the direction she wanted. Not sure what that’s about, but I’m so attuned to her sexual pleasure now, I think I just picked up on a vibe or something. I assumed a more typical approach (mouth on nipples, fingers in snatch) which seemed to be having a more salutary effect when I heard those magic words every locked ‘n denied boy both craves and fears:

“Get the key.”

No questions, no delay, I hopped right up and got her key. She unlocked me, then pushed me gently onto my back. The tube was difficult to get off since the cock was semihard, but not hard enough to penetrate her. She stroked her property for a few seconds (in and of itself, sheer heaven) before mounting me. I tried like hell to focus all my attention on her tits while she rode up and down on the cock. I really really really didn’t want to come accidentally. I could tell by her manner that this wasn’t going to be one of those mutually satisfying occasions.

Happily, she came well while I was able to keep my own climax at bay. While she laid on top of me, basking, I flexed the cock, half in and half out, and generally enjoyed what I could in the few moments of wet pussy time I had left. As she rolled off, the cock plopped out and sprang up, fully and (now uselessly) erect. She redressed herself and got up to use the bathroom leaving the hard cock and I alone in the same room together.

I assumed she wanted me back in the device (since it’s normally my job to put the sex toys away when she’s done with them) but she told me to leave it out for the night and to clean it up in the morning before putting it away. Then she rolled over and went to sleep, but not before I thanked her for the opportunity to service her and the free night.

Unfortunately, the cock flopping around has left me distracted and unable to go to sleep. Hence this post. She’s been asleep for hours but I’m wide awake being kept company by my restless, unfettered little friend.

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Lizard vs. Bunny

I look forward to Saturday night all week long. It’s the one night I can usually depend on getting a little Thumper-centric action out of Belle. This week, based on what she described as my exemplary service over the previous five days combined with the fact that it’s been two weeks since my last orgasm (and it’s showing), I was especially expectational of being made a happy bunny.

Once we got into bed, the vibe didn’t seem like one that was going to lead to wild, passionate, kinky sex. She had assumed an aggressive “curled up for sleep” posture. Trying to go with the flow, I asked if there was anything she wanted me to do for her. She told me to get naked and rub her neck. After her top was off and she was laying on her stomach, I straddled her ass so I could get to work on her knotted up muscles. The little prisoner looked up mournfully at me as the tube it was in crushed my balls into Belle’s ass. She was making appreciative moans and groans and was obviously slipping into a deeper state of relaxedness.

When she had had enough, I rolled off and laid next to her. Still on her stomach, I gently ran my hand in circles over her lower back and ass. She really liked that. So much so, that after a short while, I heard a short little snory snort come out of her. She was asleep.

All at once, I was full of internal conflict. On the one hand, it was supposed to be my turn! She had dropped hints. I had give her the best service I knew how all week. Where the hell was my action?! On the other hand, I had made her feel really good. I had made her happy. Wasn’t that my goal? Isn’t this exactly what I signed up for?

Back in your hole, rabbit.

I blew out all the candles and rolled over to go to sleep. Normally, I spoon into her, but this time I turned the other way and curled around my pillow. I felt neglected. I felt horny. I felt guilty. And yeah, I felt a little angry. The submissive little bunny in my chest was beaten back by the sex lizard who, frankly, had had enough of his fuzzy, pink-nosed, floppy-eared bullshit.

I slept fitfully due to my brimming sexual energy and a painfully full chastity tube. At 4:30, Belle rolled over and put her arm across my chest and started to finger the hair in my arm pit. Her touch immediately set me on edge. Electrical fire flashed across my skin. I wanted it – craved her touch – but simultaneously desired her to get off me.

She asked how I felt. I struggled with an answer. A month ago, I’d have probably said something noncommittal and stewed, but last night I was able to answer, “Conflicted.” I confessed my frustration. That I expected attention, even though the terms of our dynamic gave me no reason to do so. She said she could feel my frustration. I apologized for being moody and said I didn’t want her to feel guilty. She said she didn’t feel guilty. The tube between my legs throbbed at that.

She wanted me to know that even though we could have had sex at that moment, we weren’t going to because she would only be doing it for me, not because she wanted it. Yes, she did want to reward me for my excellent service, but it needed to happen when she wanted it to and not at any other time. My behavior could not be used to manipulate her actions.

The way she said these things, in a measured and thoughtful way, totally obliterated the petulant sex lizard. My internal bunny came roaring back. She meant this. She felt it. My Belle Fille was in total possession of her dominant position over me. All my internal conflict dropped away leaving me feeling absolutely under her control.

I told her I understood completely and that I loved her, completely. Our sex belonged to and was for her. I apologized for having expectations I had no right to. We kissed and I burned. She rolled over and I spooned into her so insistently it was if I was trying to fuse myself to her.

This morning, I’m content. Yes, terribly horny – my sexual frustration rings through me like a struck bell – but content nonetheless. My wonderful, beautiful, caring Belle Fille has never wielded her sexual dominance over me more assuredly than she did last night and I am beyond appreciative to her for doing so. She makes me very, very happy and I know how lucky I am to have her.

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The plateau

I stood next to the bed and waited for her to acknowledge me. Before our lost month, she had started to call it her bed and I felt it was time for me to start acting like it was again.

“What?”

“Can I get into your bed?”

Pause. “Not like that, you can’t,” meaning I had to get naked, “and not without the foot lotion.” She wanted another foot massage.

Massaging her feet this time was different than it had been the night before. And it was all very meta since after I started the massage, she read my last post about that massage where she left a comment about this massage (dizzy yet?). And she was very chatty. That, along with just having spent the evening with her parents, made my headspace less deep than it had been the night before. Besides, I was thinking about the cock too much.

Earlier, I had asked to be unlocked so I could switch to a larger ring. I had the familiar issue of irritation on the right side of my scrotum and thought a slightly looser ring might help while it healed. This happens every time I get locked up at some point. In any event, after switching, I went to her to get relocked (she likes to make it click) and she took the lock in her hand, but paused. She was considering. Hello? What’s she thinking? Am I going to get out? Does she want her cock? My heart skipped a beat.

“Not yet,” she said, leaving the lock in place, but not closed.

So as I knelt there, rubbing her feet with the thick lotion and feeling my hands ache from the effort, the thought of that little chrome lock dangling, open, from the device she makes me wear loomed large. Later, she decided she wanted her neck and shoulders massaged, so she sat in front of me topless. I got up on my knees in order to get better leverage against her tight muscles and felt the device (and it’s prisoner) press against her back.

The chatting continued (induced by the wine she was drinking and had drunk while her parents were over). She talked about her trip to San Fransisco and how she and her girlfriends had shopped at Good Vibrations. She bought a little silver pocket vibe that’s a about an inch long which she keeps in the lipstick case in her purse.

“You can think about me carrying that with me wherever I go.”

“Trust me, I do.”

She started to tell me about the toys her friends have. One of them (the one that lives there) has a very elaborate rabbit-style vibe while the other has toys her husband brought home, but she wouldn’t talk about them. I’m very happy to hear she’s sharing her new sexual adventurism with her friends and I’m thrilled she went to shop for those things and didn’t even tell me about the new little vibe until she got home (even more thrilled to hear she used it before she got home). For a few moments there, I thought she might have told her friends (or, at least the non-uptight one) about what we did, but she never went there. Maybe she has, maybe not. I wouldn’t have a problem with it if she did and actually wish she would since she has no one to talk to about it.

After a long, long back rub and lots of praise by her regarding what a good job I was doing and what a good job I had done all week, she told me to lie down on my back. Oh boy, I thought, here it comes! I’ve been good! She’s going to give me my reward!

“Remember how you’ve said it’s important to have teasing along with the denial?” she asked while fingering the lock.

“Sure,” I answered, wondering what her point was and when she was going to take the device off of me.

“Well, this is the tease part,” she said as she clicked the lock closed.

Fuck. I walked right into that. I’m such a stupid fucking guy.

“Now, you’re going to do your best job using both my vibes on me and then we’re going to go to sleep.”

The little silver vibe sounds like a hyperactive bee. Very different than Pink’s baritone hum. I fucked her with Pink and used the little silver dude on her clit. This was entirely about her. I was doing nothing more than servicing her pussy. None of the ancillary ways in which I scrape together a little sexual satisfaction were available to me. I had to use both hands and had my head down by my work, so I couldn’t play with or suck on her nipples. I wasn’t actually touching her as much as I was touching the devices she told me to use on her. A few minutes earlier I thought I was in line for some kind of action that was going to be all about me and she had totally turned the tables and had me acting like some kind of twisted sexual masseuse while I worked her pussy into an orgasmic frenzy. I really should stop doubting that my Belle hasn’t embraced her role as my dominant, because she very nicely played me like a fucking jukebox.

Belle’s orgasm was unlike any I’ve ever seen her enjoy. Usually, she climbs a giant sloping mountain only to come crashing over a cliff at the end. This time, the combination of getting fucked by Pink – feeling its vibrations deep in her pussy – while the little silver dude spastically assaulted her clit brought her to a high, wide plateau of semi-orgasmic sensation. What I thought was her climax just kept going. Minutes ticked by. I was starting to get worried but then realized she was having an entirely new orgasmic experience. I was simultaneously happy for her and ripped with the aching knowledge that not only was I getting nothing during or after, but that technically speaking, I wasn’t responsible for what she was enjoying. I was only the operator of the little plastic wonders holding her at the very apex of the waterfall. Just a spectator.

Eventually, it ended. I can’t say “she came” because neither of us is sure what she experienced. I think it was a really long, very intense orgasm. But there never seemed to be that one emphatic exclamation point of a moment emblematic of a typical climax. I envy her, though. And I’m glad I was able to be there to see it happen.

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Übersub

Again this morning with the clear precum leaking out of me. There was a healthy glob of it collected in the end of the tube when I first got out of bed. I cleaned that out, but as I walked around I felt it dripping down my pajama-clad legs all morning. I am now cruising on a wave of sexual frustration equal to anything I’ve experienced before.

Last night, Belle allowed me to give her a foot massage. I stripped and kneeled at her feet. In that position, naked while she was clothed, exposing the chastity device to her clearly (something that I’m still occasionally self conscious about) left me feeling profoundly submissive and the device fully packed and straining. She made a few comments about how good I looked and what a nice job I was doing and that only compounded the feeling. I’ve said before I don’t have any kind of foot fetish, but when I’m in that spot and she’s in the mood she was in last night, I want to kiss and lick her feet – to worship her in that most classic of submissive positions. It was all wonderfully powerful stuff.

Then she wanted a back massage, but not the simple neck-rub-through-the-shirt variety. I was using oil on her naked back. Placing towels under her at the start and being presented with glimpses of her naked breasts made my mouth water. Running my hands over and across her oiled and fragrant skin, kneading her muscles, as I straddled her ass and the device rested in the crack of her ass…nirvana. I gave her the best massage I could, working up a sweat in the process. When she had had enough, I was floating in a sea of sub energy. I felt so relaxed, so content, so happy being there with her, serving her, giving her pleasure. She told me I was a good man and all I could say in response was that I was all hers.

Of course I was unbelievably horny. There had been a constant pressure in the tube from the moment she had me undress, but I didn’t feel any urgency about it. It’s just how I am now. I could have made my feelings known by grinding into her or whining or moaning or some other now-forbidden activity, but I didn’t do any of that. I said I was going to let go of trying to maneuver her towards sex and I have. And, it turns out, there’s a kind of zen that comes from that. It’s like enjoying a fireworks show. You ooh and aah as it comes and just lay there and enjoy the experience. That’s where I was last night: wanting her badly, but feeling no need to try to dictate what happened next.

Which, I expected, would be sleep. She had already fallen asleep earlier putting our daughter to bed and was supremely relaxed from the all the rubbing. In that ubersub headspace, I would have felt zero disappointment or resentment. All I wanted was to please her and make her know how grateful I was to have the chance to do so. But, to my surprise (twice in one week with the surprises), she pulled out Pink, the little vibe that could, and wordlessly handed it to me. I was given the opportunity to perform my third act of service of the evening.

This morning, I’m still glowing (and leaking). I am a very happy bunny and I love my Belle Fille.

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Beat the clock

Day one of the new FLR experiment thingy went pretty well. I was motivated to wash, fold, and put away a couple of loads of laundry, did all the dishes after dinner, went and gassed up Belle’s car for her before work so she wouldn’t have to, got her coffee ready for the morning, and gave her a foot rub before also giving her a neck and shoulder massage. And no, it’s not all hot and steamy, but I did get a certain satisfaction from serving her. I wanted to do all of it and would have actually looked for a few other things, but there’s only so much time. This morning, there were a few things I should have done for her, but she got to them first. It just means I’ll need to be a little quicker next time. At some point, I’d like her to remember she can order me around, but whatever. Baby steps.

When we were finally in bed, the previous night’s sexually induced insomnia had left me totally exhausted. Even though my brain wanted to shut down, my body was too interested in her to let it. The feet and back rubbing had me too worked up and since she was letting me continue to touch her body and was talking to me, there was still a glimmer of hope she’d let me go further. I sure as hell wasn’t going to blink and roll over to sleep.

I was pretty sure she was debating internally whether she wanted a little something. I skated the seam between being affectionate and loving (and, hopefully, encouraging her to make the decision I wanted) and being overtly sexual. It has to be assumed by her that when I’m in this state, I am always ready for sex, but I am not allowed to make that too obvious. I can’t ask, can’t suggest, can’t lobby, beg or imply, and can’t be excessively forward in my actions. In short, no matter how badly I want to go down on her or fuck her senseless, I have to show composure and wait for her to offer. If Belle had said thanks sweetie and turned her back to me, I would have been disappointed, but would not have been allowed to register that disappointment in any way. Because, of course, it’s not about me. Sex is for her now. What she wants and when she wants it with the only goal being that of her total satisfaction. If she wants to throw me a bone just because she’s nice, then good for me, but I can’t sit at the table and drool while looking at it.

In any event, she finally rolled over and looked at the clock. I expected her to next say it was time to sleep, but instead she told me I had ten minutes to make her come. Ten minutes!? I felt like Augustus Gloop in that scene from Willy Wonka where he first sees the room where everything is made of candy, but I fought the urge to eat everything in sight. I needed to pace myself knowing ten minutes was actually way longer than I needed to make her come. If I rushed it, I’d be leaving all that body access time on the table (and maybe get sucked into a tube and sent to the Fudge Room…or something). Eventually, I found my face planted on her snatch, hungrily eating her out. It was glorious. I wasn’t checking the clock, but when she finally went over the falls, it had been exactly ten minutes.

Afterward, I did not feel the usual pseudo post-orgasmic satisfaction I feel when she’s come. Her orgasm wasn’t quite enough for the reptilian sex monster living within. Vivid images of me fucking her flashed though my mind. The memory of the what the hard cock felt like in her wet pussy insisted that I move forward – that I mount her and fuck her. But that was impossible. If I had been out of the device, she would have felt my desire and might have even indulged me, but the plastic feels hard no matter the condition of what’s inside. Since I wasn’t demonstrating how badly I wanted her, there was no way for her to know it. When she declared the evening’s activities at a close and, of course, it was clear I would get nothing else, it was wickedly disappointing. But it was as it should have been and entirely what I should have expected.

I spooned into her, told her I loved her, and thanked her for the opportunity to make her happy.

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Whimpering, doggie-style

My dog hates it when Belle beats me. I’m sure he thinks that if I’m getting the crap beat out of me, then he’s next on the list. The problem he presents is twofold. We can’t leave him outside our room because he’ll want to come in and will sit out in the hall and whine, scratch, etc., eventually waking the kids. Having him in the room is problematic since he’s a major distraction. Kinda hard to really get off on being whipped when the dog is pacing around whimpering and trying to sqeeze into places too small for him. By the time she was through working her aggression out on my ass, the dog was hiding under the bed and didn’t want to come out.

“Thumper’s Choice”, for those who are curious, involved being tied to the bed on my stomach, wrists secured by handcuffs, handcuffs strapped to the headboard, ankles separately cuffed and strapped to the footboard. I could almost raise myself up on my elbows and knees. She blindfolded me, rubbed some Icy Hot on my nuts and nipples, and proceeded to flog my ass with her little toy flogger. I call it a toy because it’s just a bunch of thin rubber cords on a plastic handle. Not the most beautiful of implements, but it was what we got at the beginning of our exploration. While it looks like a toy, it definitely does not feel like one. When she gets going with it, the resulting stinging and burning can get pretty intense. Still, I’d like to get something a little sexier.

It was a longer session that usual, though I can’t tell how long. I kind get all timeless when she’s hurting me. I know it was long enough for the Icy Hot to stop burning like a motherfucker, so maybe 30 minutes? I dunno. There were times when the combination of the burning nuts and the hard, repetitive striking of my ass was nearly more than I could handle, but the times in between were heavenly. She’d lazily brush just the ends of the flogger along my spine, over my ass, and then up between my cheeks. Just when I was grooving to the gentle sweetness of it, arching my back and raising my ass into the air, I’d hear the thin rubber strands whistle through the air a microsecond before they struck me again. She’s getting pretty good at the hitting thing. She even said she enjoyed it. Says it’s cathartic. Well, baby, you can get your catharsis out on my ass whenever you want.

Afterward, she wouldn’t let me get her off. I had to wait until last night for that. She told me to give her a back and shoulder massage (with the oil) before having me use the little pink vibrator on her. Again, not good with keeping time, but she came so hard and so fast it felt like it was over before it even got started. I have to admit, I felt somewhat cheated. Seriously, it was maybe ten seconds from the time I put the vibe against her clit and the time she started to come. Through all this, she never let me get naked – not even when we went to sleep. I wanted to. A lot. But she never gave the word. This means one of two things. One, she just forgot. I can’t explain why (trust me, I just started and erased four different attempts), but simply forgetting to allow me to do this would leave me feeling a little neglected. Kinda like forgetting to feed the dog or something. Anyway, the other option is she was purposefully withholding that permission. In which case, telling me she was doing so would have felt better, as it does whenever she demonstrates her control over me.

Speaking of which, I’m still not feeling the subby vibe. In fact, I’ve been in a funk for about a week and it’s getting funkier. I’m not panicking and questioning my entire world order as I have previously when this has happened. I’ve learned over the past four months that being flooded with all these hormones and abdicating self-determination regarding my sexual satisfaction makes me emotionally vulnerable. The slightest thing can push me into the mood I’m in right now. I know it’ll work itself out shortly. At least, I hope it will.

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Marked man

I love it when Belle marks me. Whether it’s by biting me or giving me hickies or raising welts, I like to think her marks are representative of her power, control, and ownership. When she makes them, she’s leaving evidence that the body which displays them is hers, to do with what she likes, even if what she likes is to damage it. Uber hot. I get all light in the chest just writing about it. So you can imagine what I felt when she mentioned she should brand me.

Lucky bunny
Lucky bunny

That’s how I found myself laying over her legs, ass in the air, several hours later getting tickled by the tip of a black Sharpie dancing over my skin. She drew what you see to the right: a little bunny under a horseshoe with “BFR” written over it. “BFR” stands for Belle Fille Ranch which, apparently, is a rabbit ranch. That I can’t see the brand without a mirror makes it that much hotter.

I wasn’t really expecting any serious action what with her not feeling 100% and all, but once her mark was upon me, my passions were running pretty high. I was on all fours, her beneath me, and my right knee strategically placed so as to press my thigh firmly against her pussy, moving subtly as my body shifted. All I did was kiss her face and neck, but my thigh could feel the heat between her legs start to build. Her hand started to carass my inner thighs and I moaned, desperate to feel her touch higher up. She eventually did, lightly stroking my tight, constricted scrotum. Fuck, did I want that cage off. She gripped the tube of the CB6K and started to stroke it as if she was masturbating me, but that only drove my frustration higher since all she was doing was pushing and pulling the entire contraption and torturing my already strecthed balls. I found myself fighting once again the overpowering urge to bite her, to consume her, to gather her up in my arms and crush her. I knew – knew – that there would be no release for me. Instead of fighting it and causing a scene, I let the inevitability of her control wash over and calm me.

When she told me to make her come, I focused everything above her waist. I fingered and licked her nipples and kissed her mouth much longer than I would normally. I knew she wanted me to move south, to give her pussy some attention, but I stayed up north, letting her get just the slightest taste of tease and denial. I did eventually bring my hand down to her pussy, but I merely let it graze ever so lightly over her lips. Her hips squirmed and raised up, trying to make better contact with my fingers, but I kept them just close enough that she knew they were there but too far away to actually feel them. She was moaning freely.

When I finally let my fingers touch her, she was soaked and slicked with arousal. It took about two minutes to bring her to climax. When she started to come, my finger was still lightly resting on her clit. She arched her back and grabbed my hand, pressing me harder into herself, forcing my finger deeper into her pussy. The orgasm shuddered though her and I actually felt three distinct little waves of tightly focused muscle contractions move over the tips of my fingers.

Easliy one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever given her. Seriously, top three.

—

This morning, she finally released me from the CB6K. Plus, she let me have a ruined orgasm. What a kind and benevolent dictator she is!

This time, we tried the abandoned version of the ruined orgasm (as opposed to the over-stimulated version we tried before). She layed next to me, running her fingers though my chest hair and teasing my nipples and watched while I wrapped my fist around the freely hard cock. Sweet jesus, did that feel good. I had barely started and was already leaking freely.

I jacked off until I felt the first stirrings of the orgasm approaching, then pulled my hand off quickly. A tiny little dribble came out. We decided that wasn’t good enough, so I started in again. It took a lot longer to get back to that place the second time, though I had barely come. Eventually, I felt it again – the tickling, tingling sensation of impending orgasm. I gave myself maybe two or three extra strokes and this time had a fairly respectable hands-free ejaculation, though without the volume I’d have expected. Indeed, it was no orgasm. I felt none of the post-orgasmic high. No refraction. Just a few minutes later, I was still profoundly arroused. I asked her to pinch my nipple just to make sure. Oh yeah, that felt good. I was still horny as hell.

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Icy hotness

I was massaging her feet when she asked in a drowsy, lazy voice, “What would happen if I put Icy Hot on your balls?”

Gulp. “Um…it’d burn.”

Pause.

“OK,” she said, “I’ll put Icy Hot on your balls when you’re done massaging my feet. Then I’m going to sleep.”

She’s never done that before. What a peach.

—

Here’s what she taught me about Icy Hot:

  1. A little tiny bit goes a really long way. She applied a small, pea-sized dollop of Icy Hot on my ball sack and it burned really bad for about 15 minutes.
  2. At first, I didn’t feel a thing. I thought maybe the scrotal skin was not so sensitive to Icy Hot mojo. Then, about 20-30 seconds later, it started to kick in. Cold then shifting over to hot (really hot). Total time from first application to really being able to feel it was about a minute.
  3. At its most intense, it felt like a hot poker being jammed into my nuts. Fucking hurt.
  4. The heat/pain came in waves. It’d intensify then begin to subside, then crest again. It did that about four or five times in 15 minutes.
  5. With each crest of heat/pain, I could feel myself fill the CB6K’s tube. Yeah, I liked it.
  6. It was almost more than I could take. I remember one particularly hot wave of pain where I nearly used my safeword. I got a little scared because I wasn’t even sure what to do if that happened. Would water get rid of it? Gee, isn’t a guy hobbling off to the bathroom to splash cold water on his nuts ssssexy? In retrospect, I should have known what my escape plan was before letting her put it on me. Kids at home, take note.
  7. Fifteen minutes or so later, the heat wore off and it turned cold and the pain stopped.
  8. Next morning, no marks or other lingering affects. The perfect stealth torture implement.
  9. She liked it because it caused me intense discomfort while she could just lay there and watch me squirm. For her, a good way to inflict pain with minimum effort required.
  10. Next experiment may include applying the Icy Hot directly to the cock, sliding a condom over it, then making me fuck her.
  11. If she ever really wanted to punish me, she’d use Icy Hot in larger quantities or in successive applications.
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The organ of the dominant paradigm

I wasn’t going to write about this. It seems as though I’ve been running over here to tell everyone each time we have sex and, I suppose, that would get a little tiresome after a while. I mean seriously, who wants to sound like that guy in high school who told you each and every time a chick let him get to third base?

I wasn’t going to, but I figured out an angle – a way to use what happened to make a point. And my point is, last night we had terrific, mind expanding, deeply satisfying sex and at no time whatsoever were any penises involved in any way. Just the idea of that kind of blows my mind. Never would I have said such an thing could be possible four months ago.

It started in the kitchen. I was throwing together dinner and I think Belle was emptying the dish washer when she slapped my ass with a spatula. Even though it was through my sweats, it kind of stung. She was just fooling around, but when she saw my apparent interest in the sensation (I think I grabbed the granite and bit my lower lip), she did it again. And again and again. Ouch. But, you know, in the good way. She had previously said that that night she was going to do something painful to me, but hadn’t really settled in on what it was going to be. A few seconds swinging a spatula and she knew. That night, she was going to hit me on the ass with a kitchen utensil.

She hasn’t really hit me all that much and never on the ass. Yeah, she’s bitten me there (fucking awesome) and scratched and dug her nails into it, but never hit me. I’ve very much wanted to be hit there and, lucky for me, she found something she wanted to hit me with. Apparently, she finds it amusing that such a common item could be used for such an uncommon purpose. I told her we could find kinky shit to do with all kinds of stuff, if that’s what she wanted.

So, of course, I’m thinking about getting whacked with the spatula all during dinner. Afterward, while I was cleaning up and she was lounging on the couch in front of the fire, I went to her. I needed to kneel there and just be close. The idea of being hurt by her always makes me the most submissive I can be and so I wanted to be near her and show her how grateful I was for what she was going to do. I feel like there’s a room I go to when she’s abusing me and, when I know it’s coming, I kind of stand in the doorway – half in and half out, a foot on each side. And that’s where I was there, kneeling on the floor. Standing on the threshold of my secret room of pain.

Later, in the bedroom, candles all lit and semi-dark, I felt a trembling anticipation. I had placed the spatula on her nightstand (she let me pick which one she’d use). I got up to make sure the kids were both asleep and came back in and closed the door behind me. She told me to strip. I did and stood there naked before her wearing nothing but my chastity device. I’m quite self-conscience of it when I’m like that and the feeling layered on top of the knowledge that I was about to be hurt. I climbed back onto the bed and again, without even thinking about, put myself in a very submissive posture – face down, ass up, rubbing my head up against her torso. I was as deep into the headspace as I can get.

She ran her hands along my back and up and over my ass. At first, gentle caresses, then light scratching, then, suddenly, hard, deep scratching. She raked her nails from my ass all the down my back to my neck, then would pick a spot and dig her nails into me deeply. I whimpered into the sheets and she switched back to the gentle before attacking again with the harsh. She had me on edge and jumpy, hurting me randomly in a way I hadn’t been expecting.

Then she picked up the utensil and moved into position. At first, she hit me lightly getting me used to it. Even then, it stung more than I thought it would. Beforehand, I asked her to eventually hit me as hard as she could just to see what the worse could feel like. It didn’t take her long to get there. Left cheek, right cheek, left, right, left, left, left. She’d rain down a quick series of blows, then stop and stroke the burning surface of my ass with the cold, flat black plastic. I probably would have dealt better had I been tied down. As it was, I writhed and whimpered and cried out with each hard thwack.

At first, it was very hard to take. I liked it, but it was so intense. Much more than I’m used to or was expecting. I didn’t think of asking her to stop, but it was getting difficult to imagine it continuing. After a few minutes, she asked me how I was doing. Was I OK? Long pause. Yes, I was fine. The hitting continued. My ass was stinging and I could feel it radiating heat. At some point, I felt myself start to draw away from the intensity of the pain. It still hurt, but the harsh jagged edges of it were smoothing out. Just as it seemed I was settling in for the long haul, she stopped.

We laid there, kissing, my eyes closed and ass on fire. She asked how I felt. I said I felt like getting hit some more. But she was tired, so it was over for the night. And seriously, I basked. In whatever chemical afterglow follows that kind of punishment, I laid there and wallowed in it. I can’t put into words how it felt. Kind of like after an orgasm, but not. Different. Higher. Warmer. I don’t know. But how I love my Belle for taking me there.

After that, it was more typical of our recent sessions. I gave her a back and shoulder massage with the scented oil while my ass kept up it’s pleasant throbbing sting. Once she had had enough rubbing, she turned over and I used Pink, the little vibe that could, to bring her to orgasm (preceded with multiple soft yet forceful exclamations of “oh god” in quick succession – that was a nice touch). Afterward, she giggled saying the residual sensation of the vibe tickled.

It wasn’t until this morning that I realized we never, not once, even touched the cock during the entire scene. It simply wasn’t a factor, yet I was more than satisfied and she had a terrific orgasm. They can’t all go down like that, of course (she’s too big a fan of her cock), but to be able to pull it off not only absent the organ at the focus of the dominant paradigm’s version of sex but without even considering it is awesome.

Maybe it’s time for a new paradigm.

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A good scene

Last night went a long way towards defrosting the prolonged funk I’ve been in. It started with Belle making a nice little orange roughy dinner (they’re ugly, but they taste good). After the kids ran off in all directions, she told me what was in store for me later if I did a good job cleaning up the kitchen and dishes.

I’ve mentioned previously that the whole domestic side of D/s hasn’t really manifested for us, but as she was sitting on the couch in front of the fire reading the paper and watching me clear the settings and wash the dishes, etc., she told me that she could see how some women get turned on by making their men work for sex. She also said that she was sure I’d rather she get turned on by making me do things in the bedroom, but really, I found that her getting turned on turned me on. She was relating how it got her going watching me work for the privilege of being sexually tortured by her and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel the cock start to plump in my pants. Needless to say, with that as my encouragement, I took to my labors with greater vigor. Occasionally, I’d look up to see her watching me, a sly smile on her face. I remained plump while the kitchen looked better with every passing moment.

Laying in bed later, she instructed me to check to make sure the kids were out. They were, so she further instructed me to close the bedroom door and take off my clothes. Five milliseconds later, I was beside her, stripped, in our enclosed environment. She started to touch me and I whimpered. It was all very sweet and gentle, but it’s been ten days so a little was going a long way, if you know what I mean.

She then laid out the evening’s activities. First, I was to lay on my back. Then, she was going to affix plastic clothespins to my nipples (where they would remain for the duration or what would follow). Then, she was going to torture me with small baggies filled with ice cubes. After that, I was to give her a back and neck massage before bringing her to orgasm with my fingers. Finally, through it all, after I said my phrase of subservience, I would not be allowed to make any sounds whatsoever (except for those sounds made by breathing). I would not speak again until the next morning. That was the worst. Being quiet is really hard for me.

Now, if you get around the blogosphere, the preceding might sound familiar. In fact, Dev just posted about a similar scene between she and Jos. I recognized the similarities, but wasn’t complaining. This was exactly the kind of thing I wanted her to do, so who gives a shit where the idea came from? As Picasso once said, great artists steal. Yay for stealing! I said my phrase and laid on my back.

Emotionally, I felt myself descending into subspace. I realized I hadn’t been there much since my little freak-out and its warm envelopment was like salve for my psyche. I was placing myself under her control and it felt good.

She started by attaching the plastic clothespins. We’ve got a couple of nipple torture devices and these clothespins have the lowest level of intensity. I was somewhat disappointed that she was using these since, a minute after she put them on me, I stopped feeling them. It was like they weren’t there. After those were on, she started touching the cock and balls and stroking my inner thighs and stomach. It was all very soothing as I laid there, eyes partially closed, hands unsecured but holding onto the headboard above me.

Suddenly, she grabbed, squeezed, and pulled on my scrotum. Not allowed to make noise, all I could do was suck in my breath and hold it while she crushed my balls. She let go and let me lay there for a few moments before placing the first sack of ice on my scrotum. The shock of the feeling was intense. SO COLD. She just let it lay there and I could feel the cold sensation start to turn into a burning one as my balls tried to crawl up into my torso to escape the ice. I started to ache from the cold. Finally, she removed the ice and traced lines up and across my body with it. She let both of them rest on my nipples while she started to stroke the cock. Slowly at first, but with greater speed and intensity. Normally, it’s difficult to make me come this way, but I could feel semen start to boil in me. She backed off and removed the ice.

I laid there slowly writhing as the various sensations faded. My balls were still very cold and I closed my legs to help them warm. I shifted my closed legs away from Belle, but she grabbed the one closest and roughly pulled it back to her, forcing my legs back open. I wanted to moan, but bit my lip and tried to steady my breathing.

She started to run her hands over my legs and across the cock and balls again. It felt nice, but I was wary and knew the pain would be coming again. At one point, she made a motion with her hand that made me flinch and I realized I was scared of what was about to happen. I laughed at the thought. She didn’t really seem to have a plan, but I was nonetheless dangling at the end of her string. It was wonderful.

After a little while of this kind of treatment, she eventually ended up with both bags of ice on either side of the scrotum and the base of the still-hard cock as she treated it to long, insistent stroking. I again felt the orgasm building within me. I also felt the ring in the PA piercing start to hurt with the abuse, but I couldn’t talk. I moved my hand in to try to give her the message that it hurt, but she slapped it away. Now what? It hurt, but not so bad that I couldn’t take it. I felt that saying something would break the magic of the moment, but wasn’t I supposed to make any serious discomfort known? As I debated all this in my head, the growing realization of my impending orgasm loomed large. I was confused. Did she want me to come? She sure was putting her all into it and I was making it quite clear though body language of where we were heading. I started to actively fight the orgasm, bearing down on it and trying, through force of will, to keep it in me. The ice on my aching scrotum seared while the cock was hard and it took everything in me to keep from coming all over both of us.

Suddenly, she stopped. I was left panting, reeling from how close she took me. She took one bag of ice and placed it over the throbbing erection and ran the other all over my body before slapping it against my balls. Eventually, she removed the bags and ran her hands all over me in a soothing way. She was bringing me calmly back to earth. There was the matter of the clothespins to deal with, but they were so gentle I barely knew they were there. She brought her hand up to my right nipple and ripped the fucking pin off. Oh. My. God. Then she did the same to the left nipple. Holy fuck. That hurt. Then, as the blood rushed back in, they started to fucking throb. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but that was bloody brilliant.

After a brief transition period where I cupped my poor, abused nipples it was time for the massage. I straddled her ass and rubbed the oil into her neck and shoulders. The cock was hard again and nestled between her ass cheeks, pointing up her spine. I gyrated my hips and ground my balls into her. I desperately wanted to fuck her at that moment and had to stop and place my head on her back. After regaining my composure, I poured my desire into her neck with my hands. Eventually, I went too far and she used her safeword (“ouch”), so I backed down.

Her orgasm was of the manual variety, but I so badly wanted to bury my face in her pussy. She came as usual and then, after letting me lay my head on her stomach for a minute or two, she rolled over and went to sleep. I was mute through the entire event.

I laid there, hard and horny, yet also drowsy and satisfied. She had taken me very deeply into my subspace. Maybe deeper than ever before. She had really tortured me, made me truly uncomfortable, and pushed me to the edge of composure. It was a terrific experience. Yes, it would have been nice to have been bound and wearing my collar, but I loved all of it. This morning, I awoke and still felt the submissiveness lingering within me.

Yep, all in all, a good scene. A really, really good scene.