Shaving

I HAVE shaved my pubes before. I was once under contract to a woman whose first order was to shave myself, and made me periodically send pictures of myself to prove I was maintaining it. I have, at various times, been curious about or nostalgic for or craving the sensation of being smooth. I’m no stranger to a razor near my groin.

I’ve lately kept my grooming habits to a trim up top, and a close shave around the sac. I hate shaving on principle as part of my daily routine, and try to minimize it whenever possible (the worst part of my current job? I can’t wear a full beard anymore). Katie and I had some conversations about grooming down stairs, and when I was in a particularly subby mood I suggested shaving for her…and she countered with wanting to shave me, “for the sensation.”

All things considered, I think I enjoy being shaved by my lover to doing it myself. That shouldn’t really shock anyone…most things are better when we share them with the ones we love. I had surprizingly few thoughts about kink during the process…there were vulnerability issues, sure…but I’ve moved past the area where such trust is novel. Just moments before the shaving started, I had been tied up and tickled  and that was definitely the more vulnerable position.  I wasn’t tied down during the shave.

Unfortunately, the irritation this past time outweighed the advantages to me maintaining the smoothness. My skin just wasn’t tolerating the razor, even after using some medicated gel to ease the troubles. I enjoyed the hairless sensations, and the exposed look…but the ingrowing hairs, the constant itching, and pain when my undies rubbed the wrong way just triggered too many negative responses for the both of us.

Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion Katie likes me hairy. That whole attraction-to-virile-high-testosterone-men thing some women have

Symbols

There have been a lot of symbols lately (think collar, and cuffs) added to our relationship which we’d previously gone without. Part of that was money, part of it was wanting to be sure we’re ready before adding physical objects of importance.

Here’s another symbol, one we’ve been wanting to do for close to 2 months now but kept muffing up the execution!

Now they all KNOW my collar isn't a fashion statement...

I’ve been wearing it on my “informal” collar, and I’m happy to report it doesn’t get in the way at all.  In fact, it jingles quite delightfully

Anyway.  That’s it for today!

Blindfolds

After a second round with one, I think it’s safe to say I haven’t encountered any physical thing that puts me deeper or faster into subspace than a blindfold. Protocol does a good job of it (no speaking, eyes on the floor, etc), but if you’re looking for a physical trigger? Sensory dep does the trick for me. Bondage works…but slowly, and only if I have to struggle against it (it’s not the same effect if I would have laid there all docile anyway). Pain does it…but again, it takes longer, and usually has to be fairly intense. Ten minutes in a blindfold, on the other hand, and I’m snuggly-needy, obedient, and eager to please.

We had some very light play centered around the blindfold recently. Mistress had me show her how I typically bind my cock and balls with a shoe lace, cuffed my hands behind my back, and then put the blindfold on. She flirted with a bit of pain (she finished off the session with a VERY hard pinch to my nipple that kept throbbing for several minutes), but it was mostly sensation. Her mouth on me, tongue along my ear. Nails trailing gently through my bush, or tickling at random. A few smacks on the ass with a ping pong paddle

I don’t think we spent more than an hour in this particular session, and not all of it was blindfolded. But that didn’t stop me from needing some serious snuggles afterward, or offering to fetch Mistress her water (after she started to get up to go downstairs…I’m not usually so eager to serve right after a scene). I also felt prompted to hand over my wallet and phone when we left on some errands…which is only significant if you knew just how independent I was feeling at the start of our visit (A hint: submission was almost a challenge before the blindfold).

With a little luck, we’ll get to play more extensively with the blindfold. Maybe with our extended visit coming up in a couple weeks…

Missing Breakfast

Mistress and I have done a lot of talking about food control, mostly because it’s one of my more “extreme” fantasies. Many times when I’m really wound up, I start thinking of being denied food. Sometimes it’s being forced to skip meals (sent to bed without supper, for instance) or not allowed certain foods (see the Ice Cream post). There’s that femdom standby: “The only thing you’re going to eat today is me, Boy.” And we’ve toyed with this a bit where Mistress enjoyed a very yummy-looking dessert while she only offered me a few licks from her fork.

She experimented a bit on our last visit, ordering me (after some morning snuggles and light play after waking up) to go downstairs and get coffee and toast ready for her. I hurried down and complied, setting a place at the table with her black coffee and buttered toast. I didn’t so much as pour myself a cup of coffee (wanting to follow the directions and nothing more), and waited.

Mistress ate, and we listened to some radio shows she had bought me for Christmas (Sherlock Holmes from the 1948-49 season, if you’re wondering). The entire time, I was waiting for permission to at least get some coffee…but it didn’t happen. She kept smiling at me (deviously, it seemed), and we talked about the show, and other topics (as young lovers are wont to do), and finally she sent me upstairs for a bit of fun.

All without so much as a sip of water.

By the time we went out for an early dinner, I was beyond hungry. At one point, Mistress asked me, “Still feel good about food control, babe?” almost as if she expected me to confess to not liking it…but I told her yes. It still felt good. It was very nice, being denied something I typically take for granted. It was a good sensation being hungry and caffeine deprived and knowing it was because Mistress wanted me that way. Knowing it could have been fixed so easily…except that she didn’t want it fixed.

I’m not a control slut, I swear. O:-)

Copping a Feel

That’s really too crude of a term to use when talking about Mistress’s breasts…they’re divine, and it’s such an honor and a priviledge to touch them.  But it IS how I felt about the whole situation–it felt like I was stealing the touches, like I was being allowed to feel her under my hand just because Mistress was “looking the other way,” and could end the fun at any moment. It’s an absurd view on things, since it was her hand that put mine on her bosom in the first place…but I’m getting WAY ahead of the story.

As seems to be a common theme here, I never really considered myself to be a huge breast-man. Oh, I like them…don’t get me wrong. I’m not immune to the tongue-tied, stumbling response before a well-endowed woman wearing a shirt that shows off. I like to touch, caress, and nuzzle them…and tonguing a woman’s nipples probably qualifies as one of my favorite activities. All that aside, though, I never thought I’d lose my mind over a pair of boobs.

That changed with Mistress. I’ve posted before about her bosom, and my feelings of adoration and desire for it have only grown. I’m sure the fact her breasts been essentially off-limits has had a lot to do with this…I still haven’t seen them, and until just the other day I hadn’t felt them except through her shirt. The tease of it all has kicked her breasts up a few notches on the ladder of desire: we all want what we can’t have.

We were snuggled on my bed and I was touching her. Running my hands over her chest, her sides, her arms. I started to play with one of her breasts, and after a few moments she took my hand and placed it under her shirt, well below her breast. She held it there, and I started to squirm and wiggle against Mistress. The tease, the proximity to her forbidden fruit started to work on me. Slowly, oh so slowly, she started to inch my hand up her ribcage, until I encircled her breast but was barely touching it.

Right about then I was humping her leg outright. The smug way she was working on me, knowing exactly how crazy I was getting, just made the whole thing all the worse. I was whimpering, playing with it best I could, stroking the sides of her splendorous orb (the softest, most exquisite skin I’ve ever had the chance to touch), until at last she gave me a free hand. I couldn’t stop myself from going to town, touching and kneading, caressing, tweaking and rolling her nipple between my fingers.

After a short eternity of this, Mistress had me roll onto my back and close my eyes, telling me to keep them closed. I grew even more excited, because I knew what was coming: she took her shirt off. Well, she may have just pulled it up behind her head…but either way, I knew her breasts were exposed, just inches from me. All I had to do was open my eyes and I could see those two beautiful pieces of forbidden fruit…but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.  I wasn’t about to betray her trust by disobeying.

Mistress teased me mercilessly. She ran her breasts over my face, against my own nipples, down my thighs. I was a writhing, leaking, rock hard mess. I almost couldn’t think straight from the hormones flowing through my body. My lust for Katie, my worship of my Mistress was almost overpowering. She continued the teasing (Mistress told me later she enjoyed the sensation of her nips against my skin, and that “may have” encouraged her to be a little mean) for some time, until she decided to take me between her breasts.

That’s right. For a lack of a better word…she titty-fucked me. I don’t have any words for the event except for one: amazing. Especially after she poured on the lube… *shivers* Just amazing. And possibly the best part? Her bare breasts are still a restricted area…I still have to stay outside her shirt without express permission. Copping a feel remains a treat for Mistress to offer or withhold, at her pleasure.

New Collar (and Cuffs!)

On our last free night together this past visit, Mistress and I both wanted to get out of the house. We’d been staying in most of the day (fooling around, mostly ) and I personally was starting to get a touch of cabin fever. Mistress had expressed interest in using a coupon she’d received to the Garden, which also covered it’s sister store The Chamber. We’d been talking for a while about getting me a “real” collar, and on a previous trip to The Chamber we saw a couple models we really liked.

We settled on this one:

 

Stretched out flat, lock in place

Closed, clasped, lock in place

Leather, fuzzy insides with a sturdy D-ring

All three closed, lock in place on the collar

We liked because it matched the cuffs I’d just bought at the Lion’s Den, and locked. The locking part makes the collar more bulky, but oh-so-more potent as a symbol. I spent a little bit of time locked into it when we got home…and…mmmm. That’s all I have to say about that I liked how much more rigid it is compared to my other one, how restricted I feel. The buckle being on the back of my neck is enough by itself to feel trapped, without the padlock. The wider band makes the collar ride higher on my neck than my cloth one, which meant every time I swallowed I felt my throat moving against it. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself

A big thank you to my loving Mistress, who paid for the collar as a way of keeping us “even” after I bought Olive Garden earlier in the evening.

Leather, fuzzy insides with a sturdy D-ring

And just so you can see the package…

All three closed, lock in place on the collar

New (to me) Blogs

I might’ve been falling down on the job in regards to posting, but it prolly has a lot to do with hunting down new reading material.  Here are a couple links to blogs I’ve recently discovered!

Oh My God, That Britni’s Shameless is a grab bag sex/kink/life/sex positive blog I found just today…

Hornynecouple A husband and wife explore kink of all kinds and take us along for the ride…

And that’s about it, actually, for new discoveries.  Though while it’s not new, I really liked this post from pixiepie’s secrets.  Also, I found Fern’s post on bedtime reading at Domme Chronicles to be very sweet and something I can totally relate to.

That’s enough spreading of the dirty word…time to take a few pics and get my own set of posts scheduled!

Ice Cream…

I love ice cream.  Like…it’s impossible to describe how much.  There have been days where I would walk into a grocery store and drop $25 on ice cream.  I’d eat two or three bowls in a day.  Ice cream for dinner was an almost-regular event.  I don’t have many vices, but ice cream consumption prolly makes up for the others I’ve passed on.

Mistress knows this.  I think she’s amused (as she can take or leave it), and a little concerned about it in a healthy-diet and budget sort of way.  She’s started to make me realize that ice cream is going to go back to the “treat” category, instead of the “staple” category I moved it to.

Just like bedtime, this is something that makes me chafe a little.  While I know she’s right, it’s a loss of freedom I mourn.  I’ve repeatedly said to friends that the freedom to eat ice cream for dinner is one of the finest parts of being an adult, and to be reduced to child-status in this area is frustrating.

Yet…it also feels good, the same way it does when I have to wrap up my activities in order to be in bed on time.  The loss of control, having to ask permission.  Having to submit to an order I don’t like.  It helps me feel complete, in a way.  I also like the idea of Mistress having more things to withhold from me, only to offer again as treats.

It sort of feeds my gluttony.  Makes me wonder what else she can take from me, things I desire crave and even need, so that she can be my only source for them.  Ice cream denial is definitely a sexier chafing than bedtime, but it’s still chafing

Bedtime

I’ve always hated the concept of bedtime.  Ever since I was old enough to have my own interests, the idea of having to stop what I was doing just to sleep annoyed the piss out of me.  I’d fight it, enthusiastically at times.  Work my way around it at others.  Some of the best nights of my childhood were the ones where my parents were too busy/worn out/enjoying things to enforce bedtime.

The trend continued…I developed a bad habit during the last years of my high school days of simply not going to bed till exhausted.  3 or 4am would come and I’d still be up, fooling around on the computer or I’d be out at a coffee shop, sipping some java despite big stuff planned for early the next day.

My most recent job cured me of that silliness.  I started work @ 4am…it only took a couple shifts after only sleeping a couple hours to get me into an “early to bed” mentality.  But even with that course correction, bed is something I tend to avoid unless tired…I’ll gladly take 6 hours of sleep instead of 8 if it means finishing a movie or a story.

The past few days, Mistress has taken to setting my bedtime.  I’m conflicted on how I feel about this…on the one hand, it’s control.  It’s Mistress making sure I’m taking care of myself.  It’s a good, warm feeling, and it makes me feel so happily submissive.

On the other hand, it’s a bedtime.  Something that calls up the least pleasant parts of childhood (not having control), something that annoys me (I want to finish this movie now, but then I’d be up past bedtime…), something very unsexy.

It’s not a limit, not at all.  The idea of telling Mistress I won’t obey has never seriously entered my head.  I’ve grumbled once or twice, and mentioned (at the risk of being impertinent) several times how much effort it takes to submit to this rule.  I’m a little surprized Mistress has gone here, and even more surprized she enjoys it.

I’m rambling a bit, my apologies.  I think, in the end, when I weigh everything out against each other…this feels good.  It feels right.  Having to obey rules I don’t like is really the only way I can be sure I’m truly submitting, and not just getting my kinks satisfied…and there’s something so gratifying about realizing “Oh, I’m submitting.  I must be, ’cause I don’t like this.”

It’s good to chafe.  It’s how I know the bonds are there.

The Tickling Bet

 I was tied up nice and tight. My legs and arms were pulled out from my body in a spread eagle, my body naked. I grinned up at Mistress, who was grinning back at me rather impishly. I have to admit, it’s been nice (if sometimes a little scary) to see Mistress simply enjoying our play. Until recently she’d been giving the air of being careful, being concerned about getting everything to come off right. Now she was looking down at me with an uncomplicated look of relish.

The goal tonight was to get me to safeword…via tickling. We’d decided to set a time limit (one could argue I’d safeword eventually if the time limit was open ended, thus ruining the sport) of fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, no holds barred tickles…unless I used my safeword. If I used my safeword? I’d have to eat mushrooms in a dish of Mistress’s choosing (I do so indeed hate the fungus -.-).

Mistress was very economical with her energy…she tickled over a wide variety of spots, starting at my feet, behind my knees, my groin, sides, and armpits. She didn’t stay anywhere for too long, just kept moving around judging reaction. While the spider tickles on my feet and groin seemed to generate some serious (to me anyway) laughter and thrashing, Mistress soon found a new technique to use on me: the jab and wiggle.

It’s pretty simple, really…she’d press her fingers into my ribs sharply (the jab), and then wiggle her fingers sharply (almost as if trying to shake me between her hands). I found this pretty unbearable…something about the ticklishness of having her fingers pressed there, added to the motion of her wiggle. It was like jolts of electricity and were almost too intense to laugh about.

Fortunately for me, about halfway through her time Mistress had to call for a break (as I’m sure you know, it can take a LOT of energy to tickle someone for 8 minutes straight). We took quite a long break (almost ten minutes) and talked and cuddled a little, and finally it was time to get back to it. Mistress seemed almost reluctant, def had an air of “let’s get this over with.” For my part, I was ready to get back to it and felt confident about my ability to hang on (although maybe not as confident as before the jab-and-wiggles).

In the end, I was done in by bad math skills. Mistress fell into taunting me about how long I had to go, telling me I still had ten more minutes. In reality, it was closer to two minutes…but my tickled and tired state made it too hard to work out the numbers on my digital clock, and after a fresh round of jab and wiggle moves, I yielded.

“Red!”

Mistress stopped right away, grinned, and smugly kissed me. She whispered, “You know you only had two minutes left, baby?”

I just glared for a moment or two, before a residual giggle bubbled up. “Oh well. I had a feeling you were bluffing me.”

“Silly boy. And now…you have to eat mushrooms!”

Ah, the non-sexy part of losing a bet…