Tag: femdom

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Fuck me

Here we go again with another one of these posts related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I know what you’re asking yourself. Is there anything this guys doesn’t want his wife to do to him!?

—

Belle,

I know, we’ve already talked about this. You’ve already said you didn’t think you could go there. I know. I’ve gone back and forth in my own mind several times as to whether I should even bother to write about this, but you did tell me to write all the things I wanted, and this is one of them. So, here it goes…

I want you to fuck me.

This isn’t just because I like taking it up the ass. In fact, my interest in backdoor action waxes and wanes rather dramatically and I don’t always think it’s all that and a bag of chips. No, this is more about power. In our society, the one who fucks is on top while the one getting fucked is on the bottom. This is true figuratively and literally. A cock equals power and to take one equals submission to that power. No, it’s not PC and I don’t really buy into it on a practical or logical level, but the symbolism of cock power remains deeply ingrained on our psyche.

Now imagine you have a cock. Imagine you’ve got me on my knees in front of you, holding my head in place with a handful of hair, and you’re slapping the sides of my face with it. Now you’re making me suck it. You’ve got both hands full of my hair and you’re pulling and pushing on my head as my lips slide up and down on your shaft. After a few minutes, you pull me up and bend me over the bed. While grabbing my collar for leverage, you line the head of your meat up with my hole and slowly ease your fat dick into my ass until it’s balls-deep. Then you start to slowly fuck me, almost gently at first, but building momentum with each stroke until soon you’re pounding my ass senseless. Eventually, you skip a stroke, shudder, and plunge your tool all the way into me as the orgasm washes over you. You collapse onto my sweaty back, wrap your arms around my chest, and kiss the nape of my neck.

That’s power exchange. That’s domination. And that’s what gets me off.

In the little story above, I didn’t even get to come. It was all about you. I was just a hole. I know, you don’t really have a cock, but there are wonders of modern science out there that are remarkable simulations. They’re even designed to allow a woman to bring herself to orgasm through the act of fucking someone else. It’s a great time to be alive, no?

I’m not sure exactly what about the act turns you off. Maybe it’s that you’d feel stupid strapping on a dildo. Well, I don’t blame you there. But it may not be necessary. Maybe you’re worried about hygiene. I can fix that with just a little warning. Maybe the whole “butt thing” just freaks you out. I know you can play with my ass because you have a couple of times (but, to the best of my recollection, you had had plenty of wine on every occasion).

Maybe, at the end of the day, you just don’t want to fuck me. That’s cool. The marriage will survive. I never want you to do anything you’re not comfortbale with. But, like I said, you told me to write it all down. So here it is.

Yours in every way,
Thumper

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Milkshake

Over on FetLife, a member called tiger posted this in a thread about milking:

How do you feel different before and after you’ve been milked? How much is enough? What are the objectives exactly? I’m not even clear on that. Is it just to reduce the volume of stored fluid for the sake of prostatic health? It’s also a very dominant, very beautiful act of removing a man’s control over such a quintessentially male thing. I imagine it would make me feel more submissive. What more is it supposed to do?

I think his questions get to the heart of why this is something I want Belle to do to me. I have milked myself a few times now and understand the physiological impact, but it’s allure is more than that.

Physically, I do feel a lessening of pressure when the semen is released. It’s not a pressure I can even say I was cognizant of before it was gone. Maybe it’s more a feeling of the absence of something. In no way does milking make me less aroused. Quite the contrary. The last time I did it, I couldn’t get enough and was much hornier afterward. And that, even though Belle has never said I couldn’t milk myself, is why I feel I need to ask that it be something we share. I felt like I was receiving too much pleasure from it. No, I wasn’t having an orgasm, but the pleasure I received felt like a violation of the spirit of our arrangement.

Tiger absolutely hits on the psychological trigger for me. It’s the “act of removing a man’s control over such a quintessentially male thing”. To be denied even the fleeting satisfaction of a ruined orgasm. To reduce the passage of semen from my body to an almost clinical act that I have no control over after she’s denied me and teased me and stoked within me such a bonfire of desire. So unfair. So unsatisfying. Especially when you layer on how doing it increases my frustration. On the list of things she can do to me that embody the domination I wish for her to embrace, there are few more powerful.

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Deny me, part deux

This post is related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I am to write on my blog specific things, blah blah blah. You know the drill by now.

—

Belle,

Upon further reflection, I’ve come up with with the following addendum to my previous note to you regarding my denial.

  • I go back and forth on whether it’s better to know when I’ll come next or if you should keep me guessing. Since the guessing part leads me to obsess over it in a not-so-good way (Is today the day? After she comes, will she tell me to keep going?), I’m now leaning towards having some forewarning. One way you could do this would be to set a date range. For example, there’s no way I will come before X date, but I’ll definitely come by Y. That spread could be a week to a month, but to make it much longer would defeat its purpose, I think. Another way you could handle this is to make it a reward for achieving a goal of some kind. For example, I will get one orgasm within a week of bringing you to climax N times. Using our last conversation on this topic as a guide, that would mean you get to come 50 times before I get to come once.
  • I would like to be milked on a regular basis. This, too, could be as a reward for exemplary service (your discretion) or be a regularly scheduled thing that you could take away as punishment if I did or said something you were unhappy with. So, maybe every Saturday night I get milked, but not this Saturday because I did that thing you didn’t like. Or maybe it will happen this Saturday, except you won’t let me eat what comes out afterward (for a more minor offense).
  • I need some kind of real consequence for an unauthorized emission. There’s two ways I can think of that you could do this. The first, and most obvious, would be to extend my period of denial by a large number of days. For example, I was supposed to come in two weeks, but since I demonstrated insufficient control over the cock, I will have to wait another two months. The other punishment scheme, and the one that is actually much more severe from my point of view, would be to cut off access to your body. If I ever come without permission, you would make me sit next to you on the bed, in chastity, back straight, with my hands behind my head (maybe even cuffed?), and only be able to watch you pleasure yourself for your next ten orgasms (however long that takes). I think it’s further proof of how orgasm denial has transformed my attitude toward sexual satisfaction that not being able to give you pleasure is honestly a fate worse than the continued denial of mine.

Yours in every way,
Thumper

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Dominate me

This post is related to the task my Belle Fille gave me prior to leaving on her trip. I am to write on my blog specific things I want her to do to me. I’ve decided, since these posts are specifically to her and for her, that I’ll write them that way. Also, I’m breaking them up into related themes. I’ve covered orgasm denial, pain, and bondage so far. This time, domination.

—

Belle,

Of all the topics I’ve covered so far, this one is the hardest for me to express what I want. Hard because I’m still trying to get my head around exactly how dominated I want to be (or how far you’re willing to go). Hard also because some of the things I’m going to suggest below are embarrassing for me to say out loud, let along in public (even in this anonymous forum). Regardless, you told me I had to write these things down, so here they are.

  • Domestics. I’ve already discussed how domestic domination isn’t really my cup of tea. I’d make a terrible housemaid and, truth be told, being treated like one doesn’t do much for me. That being said, I think tying the prospect of sexual activity – especially activity that’s centered on my pleasure – to household tasks is fair game. Such as, accomplish everything on this list and maybe I’ll get tied up and flogged later. Or, you’ll ruin an orgasm for me later if I just let you sit there and enjoy your wine by the fire while I put the kids to bed. Or, if I fail to put my dirty clothes and shoes away properly just once you will deny me the right to give you an orgasm in any way for a week. That sort of thing.
  • Body service. Anything that lets me pleasure your body, even in non-sexual ways, is terrific. I love it when you let me wash your hair. I love the sensual aspect of massaging your scalp, neck and shoulders. I love how you’re right there, all naked and covered in sweet-smelling bubbles while I’m clothed and only able to grind against the side of the tub (assuming I’m not in chastity). You should make me rub your feet with lotion and give you whole-body massages more often. I know how much you like them. You can leave me clothed if you’re worried about me getting overly aroused (again, assuming I’m not in chastity). Also, we need to set up a regular schedule for maintaining your trim.
  • Subjugation. I often don’t act as though I’ve given you control over my sex. I get too pushy or come on too strong. I think it’s appropriate for me to let you know how horny I am or how badly I want to make you happy, but sometimes I cross the line. I’d like you to remind me more often what I need or want is secondary to what you want. The phrase you make me say is a good start. You could make it more effective by making me say it while you put my collar around my throat. Or, you could make me repeat it over and over while you pleasure or torture me. If I stop, you stop. Maybe I should say it each time you hit my ass with the brush. I also think you should make me bow my head or in some other way show my sexual subservience to you. Make me kneel at the bedside and/or suck your toes for an arbitrary length of time. Make me hold a submissive position for longer than is comfortable, perhaps while you pleasure yourself.
  • Humiliation. I know how much you love me and how much you enjoy what I do to you in bed, but a little humiliation wouldn’t be so bad now and then. Tell me when you feel I’m not giving you an optimal sexual experience. Harshly criticize my performance. Tell me perhaps I’m not up to it or that I don’t take my service to you seriously enough. If I don’t shape up, maybe I’ll lose access to your body for a week or stay locked and without orgasm for another month. Tell me how much bigger than me the dildo is and how much more intense the pleasure you get from Pink is. Feel free to exaggerate anything and use it against me. Or, figure out something I really don’t want to do, then make me do it. I like how it accentuates the imbalance of power and plays on my unfairness trigger.
  • Discomfort. When you want me to fuck you to orgasm, make me do so while also sucking on your nipples. If I can do it too easily, make me do it while my hands are tied behind my back or the chain between my cock ring and collar is a little too short. When I’m laying next to you paying attention to your nipples, stop putting a pillow under my head. Have no fear of telling me to hold positions that will make me uncomfortable. Straddle my mouth and tell me to lick your pussy. Grind into my face if it feels good to you. If I can’t breath, I’ll eventually let you know.
  • Collar me. Whenever we’re going to engage in a dom/sub session, collar me. However, don’t let me wear it otherwise. I should only associate it with being submissive to you.
  • Rat me out. Related to humiliation, I fantasize that you’ll one day tell someone we both know that you dominate me sexually. That you orgasm many, many times more often than me and that I’m not allowed to come without your permission (which is seldom given). That you make me wear a chastity device for weeks at a time and how eventually my frustration becomes so great that semen just leaks out of me due its excessive accumulation in my prostate. That you can make me do anything if I’ve been denied long enough. And that I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

As I’ve said to you before, I have hesitated to say these things so frankly to you for fear of being prescriptive. Yes, I fantasize of being dominated by you, but if you do it only because I want you to, then the fantasy falls apart. I’ve seen how the control you’ve demonstrated over my orgasms has turned you on. I know you enjoy seeing me frustrated and horny. I know that you enjoy the elevated level of attention I give you. I only hope you can see the same kind of potential for your pleasure that exists in what I’ve written above and will use it in a way you enjoy. Because if you don’t enjoy it, neither will I.

Yours in very way,
Thumper

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Deny me

I’m going to ease my way into my task and start with the basics (and the one area we’re already doing pretty well in). In short, I want Belle to deny me my orgasms.

Last night, after all the emotional turmoil and crying and stuff, just as we were spooning in bed and starting the long slide into sleep, I asked Belle what the fewest number of orgasms was that she’d let me have over the new year. Without missing a beat, she said three. Three. Total. Not three more. So, I’ve already burned 33% of this theoretical minimum. Shit! I don’t think she was kidding. If she really does keep me to this insanely small number, then she will come fifty times more often than me. I get a little light in the head just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, moments after she said that, my cock was rock-fucking-hard. Harder than it’s been in a really long time. We’re talking, Man of Steel hard. She noted that not only was I hard, I actually dribbled a little precum from merely considering only coming three times in twelve months.

So yeah, we’re doing well here. She’s getting off on not letting me get off. She likes the control. Likes how frustrated I get. Likes how it gives her power over me. She wants to be the calmly collected one while I’m all hot and hard and struggling for composure. In fact, I have zero complaints about this intersection of my kink and our sex life. I’m not even sure it still is just a kink. There’s an almost transcendental aspect to decoupling orgasm from sex and letting the urge build within. I love how it makes me think and feel and how it changes the way I treat Belle.

There’s just one thing I’m going to work on in the new year. I’m going to truly let go of thinking about coming or not. I’ve often found myself worrying that she’s going to tell me to come when I’m not ready or perhaps not let me on a night I expect it. From now on, I won’t even consider it to be an option. The next one might be tomorrow or it might be in a year or maybe never again. If she’s in control of them, then she’s in control. I need to absolutely release authority to her.

I would ask that she give me some warning before letting me get a release. As I’ve said before, I feel as though my approach to non-orgasmic sex is different than “normal” sex. My head’s just not in the right place to come. Hopefully, she’ll keep that in mind. If not, then I’ll deal with it.

Adjunct to orgasm denial is the ruined orgasm. Since the task left to me was to give Belle actionable things I want done to me, then I’ll add this to the list. According to Wikipedia, a ruined orgasm is one that is “unsatisfactory, awkward or even painful to experience”. There are four ways I’d like to experiment with having my orgasms ruined. The first is one we’ve already done once. Immediately after I come, make me eat it. I won’t want to, but make me do it anyway. Probably the best way would be to scoop it up and put it in my mouth for me since I will be loathed to do it myself. (Afterthought: You could also try telling me I’m going to eat whatever I produce beforehand which will cause me resist the pleasure of the orgasm. Making me fight with my own body, as you do when you deny me my orgasm, turns me on.) The second method would be to jack me off to the moment just before ejaculation, and then let go and give me no further physical stimulation. Either I won’t squirt, in which case I’ll be excellently edged, or I will, but won’t feel the same orgasmic pleasure from it. The third method would be to inflict pain at the moment of ejaculation. The best way might be to have me jack off and then grab my balls and squeeze the fuck out of them right when I start to come. I like this kind of stimulation when I’m aroused, but to do it during ejaculation will most certainly take away the pleasure. The fourth method is overstimulation. This one involves jacking me off until I come but then continuing to stroke me using my own ejaculate as lubricant, preferably concentrating on the head of my cock. Honestly, this one will probably require I be strapped down since I will fight it, but if you do it for even just an extra 20 or 30 seconds, that orgasm will be thoroughly ruined.

You might ask why. Why in god’s name would anyone want this done to them? Well, you could similarly ask that question regarding everthing I want, but in this case it’s primarily about you asserting your dominant position over me and what happens to my cock. Not only can you allow me to come, but sometimes, you can ruin the event for me. That’s the level of control you have over my pleasure. Not only that, but it hits all my unfairness buttons, too. If I’m only allowed a very limited number of orgasmic events, how terrible is it that you won’t even let all of them be satisfying?

Note: As far as I can tell, many who practice BDSM and ruined orgasms wouldn’t actually consider one that is ruined to have been a real orgasm. You can use that info any way you like, especially when it comes to math.

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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.

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FLR, not so much

In the beginning, my kink seemed simple: Belle should control my orgasms and occasionally tie me to the bed and rough me up. As is my wont, I dove head-first into all teh interwebs had to offer regarding anything and everything even remotely related to these subjects. I had no vocabulary with which to describe what I was thinking, so I found myself adopting the words of others (hey, it’s what we humans do). Not only that, but I found myself drifting from the relatively simple desires that got me started looking in the first place. The vast majority of blogs I found at first were written by men who not only abdicated control of their orgasms to their partners, but who also seemed to want to abdicate all control to them. The concept of “female-led relationship” entered my thinking.

FLR and what I wanted have a lot in common, but also some significant differences. First, there is no bondage or sadism inherent in FLR (at least not from what I can see). Instead, those who get off on FLR are pulling energy from the total imbalance of power in their relationship. The woman controls all. Everything he does centers around serving her. You could say this has a sadistic flavor to it, but I like pain that’s physical rather than mental (which is not to say FLR men are suffering mentally or anything). I do want Belle to have control, but just over my cock. I do want to do things for her, but not at her command. I do want to make her happy, but I want to be happy, too.

In truth, being the kind of person Belle’d need to be to pull off an FLR relationship isn’t her cup of tea. She’s just not wired that way. And really, I’m not either. There are times when the hormones are surging that I’ll do anything she wants. Those are good times. I happily service her in whatever way she requires (sexually or domestically or whatever). However, there are also times I just want to sit downstairs and play video games, even after two and a half weeks without coming. The few times she’s tried to command me (tell me to do something rather than ask), I’ve felt an internal wall come up. I guess I resent anyone telling me what to do, even she who controls my penis. Now, if she wants to predicate my sexual release on some totally unrelated task, fine. But bossing me around the house? No thanks.

There’s a larger point here. I’m just not interested in exchanging all the power in our relationship. When we’re approaching sex, YES, I want that. When we’re making dinner, no, I don’t. She can put a collar on me and make me kneel and suck her toes all she wants, but I’m not really interested in having each and every thing I do sexualized (nor has she demonstrated an interest in that). I think we could do it over short periods (an evening or over a day or two) but, really, 24/7? God, that’d be so much damned work for both of us. And I guess that’s where I draw the line between what I want from Belle and whatever FLR is. I read FLR as a 24/7 thing where the man is always and obviously beneath the woman. I’m perfectly happy doing the FLR thing as a scene, but not as a lifestyle choice.

So we’re back where we started. I want Belle to control my orgasms and occasionally tie me to the bed and rough me up. There are other things, too, but that’s the meat of my kink. Even though I have no idea what to call it (other than by the names of its component pieces), trying to over-analyze, over-define, or over-structure it is unproductive for both of us.

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Pushy bunny

I got Belle a copy of The Mistress Manual by Mistress Lorelei. It was well-reviewed on Amazon and it’s just my thing to buy a lot of books whenever I’m trying to to grok a new subject, but it’s been sitting on Belle’s nightstand uncracked since it arrived so yesterday I picked it up and started reading it.

Mistress Lorelei suggested I stop. At least, to stop before I got to the juicy stuff. OK, I figured, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I was able to get through enough to know Belle’s not going to like some of what she has to say. First of all, Lorelei talks a lot about “sissy maids”. As I’ve said, I am not a sissy, do not want to become or be turned into one, and, in general, am not interested in doing all the housework (nor is she interested in me being a sissy). In addition to lauding the benefits of the live-in sissy maid, Lorelei also discusses the joys of dressing your guysub (her word – hadn’t seen that form of the term before) in women’s clothing (specifically, underwear). Again, not burning with a desire to wear lacy panties and Belle’s never suggested I should. We don’t have a problem with guys who do, but it’s not an idea that trips either of our triggers. However…

Mistress Lorelei did help my thoughts coalesce around something I had not been able to put words around previously. While I’m not interested in doing all the chores, wearing panties, or otherwise being emasculated, I am turned on by Belle making me perform tasks or putting me in situations I’d never embrace on my own. I like the idea of her pushing me beyond where I’m comfortable. For example, when she forced me to eat my own come. Yes, eating come (my own included) turns me on, but it’s only a turn-on for me while I’m turned on. Approximately .25 seconds after it comes out of my body, the idea of eating it is about as arousing as is the idea of eating snot. She didn’t just ask me to eat it, though, she made me by smearing it over my lips. It was a marvelous moment where she spontaneously asserted her dominant prerogative. It was awesome and it’s one my favorite memories from our recent past.

This concept intersected with our life last night. Belle had already told me I was not going to service her, but she was being very generous with her attention towards me. She was clawing my ass, pinching my nipples, and jacking the cock (while avoiding the still-tender piercing). It was heavenly. I had asked (begged, really) to be allowed to go down on her, and she refused. Then, as she was biting and sucking on my neck (and leaving a nice little trail of marks down to my shoulder), the intensity of the feelings got to me and I begged to be able to do anything at all to her. I guess I didn’t really think she would let me, but I really, really wanted to and also wanted to hear her refuse me again. However, it didn’t turn out that way. She got pissed. Felt I was trying to control the action. I apologized and did my best grovelling bit, but she was fairly nonplussed. After she chewed me out for a while, accompanied by my continued pleas for mercy, she decided I had ruined the moment and would have to massage her feet with lotion before she went to sleep (which, you know, wasn’t all that bad either).

She may have been right. I may have been trying to steer the ship. It’s not uncommon for me to achieve a nice subbie headspace after we get started, but it’s not usually the case that I’m feeling submissive before we get going. Had I been grooving the guysub space, I don’t think I would have continued to beg her for access to her body. I might have tried once, but she was being pretty firm with her refusal. I doubt I would have pushed it. Maybe that little voice in my head that hoped she would capitulate and let me go down on her was playing a bigger role than I thought. Had she directed me to leave my comfort zone beforehand – to jump-start my submissive tendencies – I probably wouldn’t have pushed her so hard.

So, to tie all this together, I had never really appreciated why dommes made their subs do things like kneel or kiss their feet before a scene. Since I didn’t feel a terrific desire to bow before Belle or worship her feet (not, at least, until getting warmed up a bit), I figured that her forcing me to do them wouldn’t find a place in our relationship. In fact, I continue to think too much about my interests and desires. No, I don’t instinctively want to bow to her, so she should make me do it. Since sucking on her toes is usually something I need to warm up for, she should make me do it before anything else. We both need strategies that will allow her to assert her dominance, not for my pleasure, but to ensure I don’t usurp her authority.

Because of last night, there’s a phrase that reiterates our power-sharing arrangment that she’s requiring me to say before I’m allowed to do anything with her. At first, I felt silly and somewhat embarrassed saying it, but by about the third time it came out of my mouth, it sank in as to why I needed to say it. And, in turn, why I needed to write this.

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This morning

I awoke this morning with the carnivorous butterflies at full battle alert. My whole body seemed to vibrate with a tremulous, insistent lust for Belle. There was a moderate amount of pain coming from the end of my erection, but the immediacy of her physical presence filled my senses and caused me to momentarily subjugate the hurt. At first, she was sleeping, and I tentatively moved my hands over her body, cautious not to wake her but finding it difficult to control my urge to touch her. As she stirred from sleep, I became more bold, moving my hand beneath her bedclothes and down between her legs. Thankfully, she was receptive and pulled her top up to to reveal her breasts, in doing so wordlessly directing me to provide her the service I so badly craved. She made little effort to please me. There was a vague touching on her part, but it seemed more about her appreciating my form than an attempt to give me pleasure.

I consumed her nipples as if they were water and I a man lost in the dessert. I fought the urge, so familiar when my lust is running high, to sink my teeth into her soft flesh. My mouth found its way to her pussy and I eagerly lapped at her wet folds. Her first-thing-in-the-morning aroma was strong and powerfully affected me. My newly pierced meat strained against the still-unfamiliar steel passing though it, but the intensity of her womanhood blanketed any pain. I was solely focused on consuming all of her that I could before she inevitably fell over the cliff of orgasm.

As her climax approached, she started moaning loudly and with abandon. I found myself, for the first time, making sympathetic orgasmic moans. Soft, almost whimpering sounds came from me as I palpably felt the crest of her pleasure approach and then wash over me along with the knowledge that, sadly, my enjoyment of her body was coming to an end.

Afterward, I laid my head down on her pubic hair and inhaled her redolent essence for as long as she’d let me. I placed my hand over her pubis, cupping it over her mound. I felt the source of her power over me radiating from it. An animal-like lust welled within me and, again, I was nearly overcome with the urge to bite her. But I didn’t. I kissed her. As sweetly and as tenderly as I knew how. And I thanked her for allowing me the pleasure of giving the same to her.

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RobotSub

wall-eAnyone else who’s seen Wall-E think he’s a great little malesub and she’s a kick-ass domme? Am I the only one?