Three nights

Saturday
Following the pathetic squirt, I got my mulligan. Belle strapped me to the bed and used her nails and teeth on me. Only the second time being tied down, I can report still thinking it’s pretty great. At one point, the cock became turgid and she remarked, “God, you really do like this!”

As before, I never got really hard from what she was doing, but I enjoyed most of it. The nails on my ass and digging into my scrotum were awesome, but raking them across my chest not so much. As we’re figuring this out, it’s interesting to me to find that some sensations are good only in certain places.  I regret that she didn’t bring the flogger out, and afterward, so did she. Anyway, she was absolutely vicious with my nipples. So wickedly cruel, in fact, that I had to ask her to stop, which is a first. Damn near twisted the things right off. They stung for 24 hours. Delicious.

She let me jerk off when she was done, but unlike the night before, I could never get there. I really wanted to, but the damned piercing was bugging me again. Not hurting as much as just feeling weird and not right. I can only assume this is part of the healing process and that it won’t feel weird forever. In any event, I did not come. As I went to soak the piercing later I found I had leaked precum, but through the little pierced hole, not the one on the end of the cock. I went to bed frustrated.

Sunday
We spent the afternoon and evening at a family holiday party at Belle’s uncle’s house. She had more than her fair share of wine and, in the car on the drive home with the kids in the back seat, started drawing letters on the top of my hand resting on the shifter.

P, I, N, K

Pink? Oh! Pink, the vibrator. Cool, she wanted me to use Pink on her when we got home. We’ll see if she falls asleep first, I thought.

P, I, N, K, O, R, C…

Pink orc? Huh. Does she want to watch Lord of the Rings while I get her off? I shook my head indicating I wasn’t reading her.

P, I, N, K – yeah, got that – O, R, C…

“Orc?” I said. She shook her head. Our exit was about a mile off at this point, so I told her to just wait.

Turns out, she was trying to tell me she wanted Pink or the cock, she just never got past the C before I gave her a weird look. In bed, she decided on Pink, not the cock (sigh) since, she informed me, tonight it was all about her. Working her nipples with my mouth and left hand, I ran Pink over her clit with my right. Her moaning and gyrating hips encouraged me to fuck her with it and she shortly came to a quiet yet intense climax. With the cock hard and pressed against her, she pulled down her top, pulled up her bottoms, rolled over and went to sleep. I’m not even sure she said thanks.

Monday
Laying in bed. After some talking, she tells me to get under the sheets and get naked (since I’m always supposed to be naked in bed). She starts to rub the underside of the cock, pressing it into my stomach. It’s getting harder and I’m making little moaning sounds. “Quiet,” she says. “No sounds.”

Oh, god. I’m normally pretty vocal in these kinds of situations and suddenly finding myself having to bottle it all up was infuriating. The simple sensation of her rubbing the cock on just one side with only two fingers seemed to multiply in its intensity. After a few minutes of this I realized it might actually make me come and the tiniest little Whoville squeak leaked out of me. She immediately withdrew her hand leaving me hard and throbbing. My fun was over. Now I know the rules to that game.

Feeling pretty turned on, I rubbed my hand across her shirt and felt the hardening little nub of her nipple.

“Did you ask permission to do that?”

“Can I please touch you?”

“What do you say?”

I said our agreed-upon phrase that reinforces her dominant position in our sexual relationship and she pulled her pajama top up and assumed the now-familiar “serve me” position.

Again, it was all about her. I used my hands this time, not Pink. Her pussy was incredibly wet and the cock between my legs pulsed with the memory of sliding into it. After she came, I laid with my head on her chest and told her how badly I wanted to fuck her. She pulled down her top and pulled up her bottoms and told me I could touch myself, but not come.

As soon as I wrapped my hand around the hard cock, I knew – I knew – that this time, I could get there. But it was not to be. Not tonight, anyway. So I laid there and stroked while she rolled over and went to sleep.

Crossing the Rubicon, Part 3

[This is the last part of a three-part post. You might want to read the first and second parts first.]

I chose to call this series of posts “Crossing the Rubicon” because of what happened on the morning of the last day of our weekend. As I’ve written in the past, being tied up is one of my oldest and deepest desires. I’ve never been tied up by anyone before, though it’s been part of my fantasy life and a major player in the porn I enjoy since as long as I can remember. I did bring it up to Belle early in our relationship, but her reaction caused me to put it back in the dark hole in my psyche from whence it came. She wasn’t actively opposed to the idea, but I sensed trepidation and maybe some fear. I let it drop. Now, all these years later, it was back to the surface. I had told Belle everything I wanted done to me and she had shown sympathy and a willingness to try, if not a comprehension of what motivated me.

On her trip to San Francisco, Belle had purchased some light bondage gear. Basically, some simple tethers with clips on the ends and four velcro cuffs with attached rings. Nothing too severe, but inexpensive and packaged in an accessible and non-threatening fashion. It was my understanding that we’d finally put these to use over this weekend, though the opportunity I thought most obvious had come and gone due to too much drink and hot water. Sunday morning, she indicated we’d finally take the plunge.

To me, this was synonymous to the first time I had sex. I had wanted to do this for so long and now the time had finally seemed to come. I asked if she wanted me to prepare the room, and she said I should while she made her coffee, ate her cereal, etc. Back in the bedroom, I tried to figure out the best configuration of the tethers. Our bed was king-sized with no headboard or footboard (like we have at home). I eventually attached the tethers to the legs of the bed frame, but I found by laying them out and trying different poses that I’d be stretched into an extreme spread-eagle position. I bound one ankle and one wrist to make sure it was even physically possible and the sudden reality of the moment finally struck me. I found myself incredibly nervous and self-conscious. Ironically, as I was preparing the bed in a way to maximize my physical vulnerability, I discovered a deep well of emotional vulnerability. Doubt crept into my mind. Was this going to be fun? Did she really want to do it? Maybe this was the wrong time. I tried to put those thoughts aside as I finished the preparations. I went back out to the living room and waited.

It seemed to me, as the minutes ticked by, that Belle was dragging her feet, just as I suspected she had dragged her feet with regard to bondage all along. Finally, after she had exhausted just about every delaying excuse possible, she sat down next to me on the couch by the fire. She said she wanted me to know that she was “sexed out” and not interested in further penetrative activities with me. That’s what she said, but what I heard was a serious lack of interest on her part and felt she was trying to work her way out of the event. It played directly into my doubts and fears and vulnerability. I told her maybe we shouldn’t do it since I was not interested in it if she wasn’t. There was only going to be one first time for this, I said, and if we couldn’t both be into it, I didn’t want it ruined. I was angry, scared, disappointed, and embarrassed to even be in that position. I started to cry. I was a mess.

In the past, that might have been it. I might have been impulsive and we might have fought and the entire event would have collapsed in a heap of resentment. Luckily, though, we kept talking. She told me she just didn’t want me disappointed if she didn’t come at the end of this. That she did want to do this, for me, but that she wasn’t interested in sex being a part of it. I told her who came and when was entirely under her control and, if played correctly, it was practically impossible for me to be truly disappointed. I told her that the erotic torture she had put me through the previous morning, upon being released from the CB6K, was all I was expecting with the only difference being this time I’ve be tied down. I sensed she was making this thing into a bigger deal than it needed to be. That I wanted to be tied down by her and only her and anything she did to me would be wondrous. All I wanted to do was share the experience with her, my love. That’s all.

Finally, I stopped crying. We had gotten past the road hazard and would continue the journey. She told me to go back to the room, get naked, lay on the bed, and wait. I did as she said and, while in the room alone laying nude in the middle of the big bed, felt a level of apprehension and anxious expectation unlike anything before. Involuntary shudders rippled across my body and my teeth were beginning to lightly chatter. She entered the room and I felt very naked, vulnerable, and exposed.

She started with my right wrist, then my left. I tested the restraint and found them to be light, yet quite secure. I knew I could not overcome them and the thought sent an electric wave through me. Next, she secured my right ankle, then my left. I tried to move and found my range of motion severely limited. Goosebumps broke out across my body. Finally, she placed a blindfold over my eyes and kissed me on the mouth. I was going to explode with anticipation.

I heard her move through the room. She seemed to be looking for something, but I didn’t know what. She left the room, then came back in. I heard the light switch go on and her rifling through our toy box. Then the light was switched off. I honestly had no idea what was going on or what she was looking for.

I felt something light and feathery brush against my chest. Was that a feather? Where the hell had that come from? She dragged it across my nipples, down my legs, across the cock and my balls. I instinctively moved my head as though, if I could just find the right angle, I’ve be able to see what was going on, but to no avail. Finally, I figured out that I was feeling the ends of a simple rubber flogger Belle had purchased along with the restraints. I had dismissed it as a novelty, but was happy she brought it out as it was totally unexpected and might be able to give me a mild stinging sensation.

Her first swing of the flogger did nothing to change my perception that it was a toy. It struck my chest with a light, almost tickling sensation. I found some pleasure from not being able to see it before it hit me, so the shock of the feeling was sudden and surprising. Each impact caused me to sharply intake my breath. Then, I was even more surprised to find the sting of the little flogger to be getting stronger. She started flailing on my left hip and upper thigh with rapid succession and then alternate with my right side. In fact, after a while, I felt myself actually approaching the limit to the amount of sensation I was going to be able to withstand. I writhed, moaned, growled, and barred my teeth as the pain’s intensity became almost more than I could bear. It occurred to me we had never established a safeword or any other way for me to tell her she had gone too far when, at the very moment I felt I was going to break, she’d move to another spot on my body or suddenly start gently brushing my skin with the feathery ends of the rubber strands. While all this was going on, I started to self-analyze my reaction. Was I enjoying this? Was it good for me? Oh god, yes. It was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

I felt the areas where she had struck me burn and sting and I felt the cock between my legs flop around. Interestingly, it didn’t get hard as I had expected, but it was flushed with blood and felt fat and heavy. She would occasionally concentrate the light sensation over my groin and I found myself simultaneously fearful she’d strike me there and hoping desperately that she would. She never did, but she did grab and pinch my nipples with a force I’d never felt her apply before. Did my restrained and vulnerable position give her greater strength or did it only feel it that way because I was helpless?

I honestly have no idea how long the flogging went on. She eventually grabbed the cock and started stroking it roughly. I had to ask her to be more gentle as somehow she had unknowingly crossed into bad pain. I felt the flogging portion of our session was over and that now I was expected to come, so I begged to have my hand released so I could bring myself to orgasm. At first, she declined, but I think the effort eventually got to her and she released my right hand. I was immediately stunned to feel how hard the cock in my hand was. It had been so long since I stroked it, but even so, this was bigger and harder than I had remembered it could get. My legs being spread made it harder to come, but she told me I’d have to do it the way I was. No more of me would be released. She started to twist my nipples and I finally felt the stirring of an orgasm start to build between my legs. When the orgasm finally came, I felt its sticky ropes fly across my stomach. I was panting, blind, and euphoric.

Belle released the other restraints and removed the blindfold. As she laid next to me, I felt the warmth of her skin and was surprised to find her naked. In addition, she had a light sheen of sweat over her from the exertion of the session. She snuggled in and I felt the comfortable warm afterglow of the orgasm wash over me…just as she scooped up a great glob of come and spread it across my lips. “Time for breakfast!” she said merrily. We both immediately burst out laughing as I told her through my sticky, gooey lips that the idea of eating my own come was admittedly more enticing before it came out of my body. I licked off my salty treat and felt my love for Belle Fille bursting inside me.

Later, we were back in the hot tub. As we climbed in, I showed Belle the welts she had raised on my skin. I was delighted, but she was taken aback. I reassured her that I loved the marks she had left and hoped to see more like them in the future. Venus and Mars, indeed.

As I sat there in the bubbling, steaming water and stared across the frozen lake, I felt a different kind of afterglow from our session. It wasn’t from the orgasm. It felt different. In fact, everything felt different. Belle had taken me across the Rubicon – the point of no return. She had popped my bondage and flogging cherries both on the same day. Thanks to her, I now knew what my fantasies really felt like. And they were better than I had hoped. It was almost half an hour later, and I realized I was still softly moaning to myself. It was as if I was purring like a happy cat laying in a sunbeam. The love of my life, my wife, my keyholder, my Belle Fille had brought me across the threshold to a new world.

And I was happy to be there with her.

Montreal, Part I

A couple of weeks ago when Belle was out of town, I found myself laying in bed with my imagination running wild. I had just woken up and wasn’t fully awake. As I lay there in that groggy state, I allowed an actual event – a trip we took together several years ago – to merge with fantasies being produced by my hormone-soaked brain. The vividness with which this tale spun out in my head was remarkable. Before I lost any of the detail and texture, I tried to commit as much of it as possible to memory.

In the distant past, I tried my hand at fiction. Once or twice, even erotic fiction. That, however, was long ago. What’s presented here is my first stab at anything of this sort in close to 20 years. It may be good, or it may not. You may like it, or you may not.

I think it’s important to point out at this juncture that none of the things related here actually happened. Also, I’m not saying by writing this out that I want any or all of these things to happen to me. This is porn. Porn is fantasy. There are elements of what’s described here that I find extremely arousing. However, at it’s best, porn is a cartoon-like caricature of real life. Maybe that’s the difference between “erotic” and “porn”. Erotic is closer to possible while porn is obviously not. Who knows? In any event, here’s my first stab at it. Please feel free to let me have it in the comments.

Continue reading “Montreal, Part I”

Well, that was weird.

Last night was not especially great. Belle’s flight was delayed so she got home really late. Also, she had to get up early this morning and’ll be at a work thing tonight, so there’s no telling when we’ll get a chance for some quality time. Suddenly, the real world has shoved its nose into our life and I’m not liking it. It’s given rise to some worries.

Last post, I talked about the whole “exotic pet” metaphor. If someone had dropped a lemur or ferret on her doorstep without instruction, Belle’d be just as hard-pressed to deal with it as she is dealing with her suddenly kinky, horny, submissive husband. While I did order her some books, they only can help her so much if, at the end of the day, her heart’s just not in it. I never asked her if she wanted to control my orgasms and we never really talked about adding a large measure of kink into our sex lives. I more or less dumped all that on her. Well, what if she doesn’t like it? What if none of this really gets her going? In order for it to work for me, I need it to work for her. And last night, it just wasn’t.

Since she called me and told me about the things she was buying in San Francisco, I have been fixated on the collar. The other things (cuffs, straps, etc.) are also intriguing to me, but I’ve been imagining the collar almost constantly- the first time she put it on me, the way it would look around my neck, the way it would make me feel. Yeah, I’ve taken this whole pet thing pretty seriously. So last night she comes home late and pretty much says we aren’t going to be using any of the new items. I didn’t really think she’d be tying me up, but not even the collar? I can’t even try it on? I had built this moment up in my mind – me, the pet, getting my first collar, from her, my owner – and instead I get a tired wife who just wants to go to bed. No, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s totally understandable. But I was pretty well crushed by the let down and that, in turn, led me to doubt this entire course we’re on. It also highlights the precarious emotional state I’m apparently in.

I feel as though I’m coming out to her. No, I’m not gay, but I can’t imagine telling her I was would be much more difficult than this. Where we are in our relationship and how quickly it’s developed over the past six to eight weeks, and the fact that sex (or lack of it) was one of the root issues that led to our troubles, has left me feeling a little insecure. On top of that, I know that as I’m exploring my desires I’m discovering new things about myself. As I mentioned in the last post, I’m finding myself much more drawn to D/s (with some reluctance). It’s as if I’m pulling a thread on a sweater and it just keeps coming with no end in sight. I really don’t know what kind of person I am. And I don’t know if Belle’s interested in maintaining whatever it is I’m becoming. And that’s scary.

Thumper: An exotic pet

Wednesday night, after Belle released me from the device, we had amazing, intense, and extraordinarily satisfying sex (at least for me). While we were discussing the affect the CB6K had on me and us, I was able to explain to Belle the four pillars of my kinkiness. In short, they are:

  • Orgasm tease and denial – This is foundational. Not sure a lot of folks would consider this a kink in an of itself, but, as I’ve written about previously, I’m categorizing it as a core kink for me and our relationship.
  • Pain – I am a masochist. When I’m aroused, any feeling of pain seems to amplify my pleasure. So far, Belle has been unable to inflict pain on me that crossed my threshold beyond sexual enjoyment. Pinching, scratching, hair pulling, and biting have, so far, only increased my arousal.
  • Bondage – I desperately want to be tied up. We have experimented with this very little, mostly due to lack of proper equipment. I remember telling her about my desire to experiment with bondage at the very beginning of our relationship, but she had no way to deal with that information at the time and nothing ever came of it. Truth be told, I’ve never really been tied up by anyone, but I’ve often fantasized about being secured with straps and ropes and unable to control the things being done to me. Plus, bondage porn is some of my favorite.
  • Anal play – This is the one thing that I have plenty of experience with. In my youth, I had several male sex partners and have held a fascination with putting things up my ass for as long as I can remember. However, with the exception of a brief period near the beginning of our relationship, Belle and I had never really talked about it and we’ve never integrated it into our sex. It has been relegated to solo masturbatory sessions for more than a decade.

You may notice, as I have, that the first three bullets involve activities often related to dominance and submission (D/s). I’ve written at the beginning of this blog that I wasn’t especially interested in being Belle’s slave. Interestingly though, the closer we edge towards activities with strong D/s overtones I find I have more interest in being dominated, in at least a sexual way. I am still decidedly NOT interested in Belle dominating me all the time in all we do. However, in bed, I’ve yet to find the bottom of the pool of my submissive desire.

So once the talking part of our evening was over (or, at least, the part where we talked exclusively since we usually talk quite a bit while making love), and Belle was being especially cruel to my nipples, raking her nails down my back and ribs, digging them into my ass cheeks (almost, but not quite, as good as ass biting), and squeezing and pulling on my balls, I blurted out that I wanted to be her sexual pet. I had already used the metaphor to describe all these new kinky needs suddenly gushing from her husband and how it was not unlike having an exotic animal left in your care with no idea what to do with it. It clicked in my head that, in fact, I did want to be her sexual pet. Like any well-trained and obedient animal, I was eager to please her and willing to accept just about any command. The attention she was lavishing on my body was profoundly arousing. While I was still her husband, lover, and friend, I also found myself moving to a place in my head where I was, absolutely, her pet. And I loved it.

Since I’m often over-thinking things, here’s my take on this. I don’t want to be a slave because, in my mind, that requires the abdication of too much authority over my body to someone else. I do not want to kneel before her or wait for her command (and she’s not interested in that, either). However, a pet still has the ability to think and act for itself. It can have an overwhelming need to satisfy its master, but as any pet owner knows, even the best-trained animal will sometimes do what it wants and try to take control of a moment. In this way, I think the pet metaphor is a much better expression of my need to be submissive while balancing my dislike of being totally dominated.

Yesterday, my wonderful Belle Fille called me from San Francisco, where she’s visiting a friend. To while away the afternoon before her friend came home from work, she was doing some shopping and happened upon a local sex shop called Good Vibrations. She called me and we both shopped the store as she walked the aisles and I surfed their website. She’ll be coming home Sunday with cuffs, straps, a feather tickler, nipple clamps and – the thing I’m most happy about – a fur-lined collar for her pet.

My wife is making her kinky little bunny very, very happy.