Madame:
Me:
We've moved along
8 years ago
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Another step further
After a couple of days spent mostly vanilla, Madame was Madame again last night, at her own initiative (which I hastily followed). At bedtime, she called me into the bathroom. I was naked, since I was on the verge of getting into bed to warm up her side for her. She was still clothed.
She began lecturing me on my shortcomings, then grabbed the big bath brush we had purchased for disciplinary purposes. She positioned herself at my side and I stood to attention. She touched the brush to my right buttock. She drew back her arm and... SMACK. A good hard whallop. It got my full attention. I apologized once again. She looked delighted with herself. Then she looked at my ass and her face fell. "Jesus!" she said.
I looked in the mirror. There was a brush-shaped mark in angry red with a deeper shadow beneath it. Madame was taken aback, but I thanked her for it and praised her resolve.
In bed, she told me I would not be allowed to pleasure her that evening, which I had been looking forward to. I asked why and she said it was just because she wanted to go to sleep.
She slid her hand between my legs and began to tease me. I was very happy that she had taken the step of deciding to smack me with the brush, and had followed through. "Maybe you could tie me up some time," I said casually.
A pause. "I'll make those decisions," she said, "Not YOU. Be happy with what you've got. That's it. You're done for the night." She unhanded me and rolled over to go to sleep.
It's been a week and a half since she last allowed me to come. It was all I could do not to whine and beg. I did ask, though, in what I hope was a dignified fashion. She told me it was my own fault for not knowing my place, and her decision was final.
I was so frustrated, and so turned on. I was sorely tempted to let my hand stray down to my throbbing member, but I'm a good sub. I didn't touch.
She began lecturing me on my shortcomings, then grabbed the big bath brush we had purchased for disciplinary purposes. She positioned herself at my side and I stood to attention. She touched the brush to my right buttock. She drew back her arm and... SMACK. A good hard whallop. It got my full attention. I apologized once again. She looked delighted with herself. Then she looked at my ass and her face fell. "Jesus!" she said.
I looked in the mirror. There was a brush-shaped mark in angry red with a deeper shadow beneath it. Madame was taken aback, but I thanked her for it and praised her resolve.
In bed, she told me I would not be allowed to pleasure her that evening, which I had been looking forward to. I asked why and she said it was just because she wanted to go to sleep.
She slid her hand between my legs and began to tease me. I was very happy that she had taken the step of deciding to smack me with the brush, and had followed through. "Maybe you could tie me up some time," I said casually.
A pause. "I'll make those decisions," she said, "Not YOU. Be happy with what you've got. That's it. You're done for the night." She unhanded me and rolled over to go to sleep.
It's been a week and a half since she last allowed me to come. It was all I could do not to whine and beg. I did ask, though, in what I hope was a dignified fashion. She told me it was my own fault for not knowing my place, and her decision was final.
I was so frustrated, and so turned on. I was sorely tempted to let my hand stray down to my throbbing member, but I'm a good sub. I didn't touch.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Unpredictability
So last night I lit candles and turned up the heat a little in the bedroom to prepare for a romantic session. Madame and I began to make love and all was swell.
She bit me on the shoulder, something she does that leaves bruises. I said, "Madame likes to leave her mark."
"Yes!" she agreed enthusiastically.
"Madame could make her mark in many ways," I said, thinking of the spankings and floggings I long to experience. "Mmmm," she replied, not wanting to go there.
She decided she wanted me inside her, so in I went. We were having a great time. At first I was very sensitive and felt I could come very quickly, so I was focusing on control. Then Madame ordered me to stop moving while she masturbated with me inside her (a common practice for us for years). I did. But a little while later when she ordered me to start thrusting again, I had gone half-soft! Embarassed, I immediately suggested that I withdraw and go down on her, which she accepted. It took her ages to come (perhaps because the erection malfunction had broken her mood, perhaps because of the two gins-and-tonic she had earlier imbibed).
Afterwards I apologized abjectly. "It was involuntary, Madame, but nonetheless disrespectful. And I couldn't make you come efficiently. Truly I have been very bad." I was hoping for some discipline but Madame, enjoying post-orgasmic sleepiness, was in pre-D/s mode. She smiled lovingly and told me it was all right, nothing to worry about.
"If you say so," I said, "Madame."
She gave a little ironic sigh.
"Hard to stay in character all the time, huh, Madame?"
"Exhausting! Thomas."
So we ended on a playful note, half in-character and half commenting on the theater.
Theoretically she could have allowed me to come, since a new week had commenced, and I was sort of expecting it because she had been in a generous mood all day. But since I had gone floppy on her, no deal.
She bit me on the shoulder, something she does that leaves bruises. I said, "Madame likes to leave her mark."
"Yes!" she agreed enthusiastically.
"Madame could make her mark in many ways," I said, thinking of the spankings and floggings I long to experience. "Mmmm," she replied, not wanting to go there.
She decided she wanted me inside her, so in I went. We were having a great time. At first I was very sensitive and felt I could come very quickly, so I was focusing on control. Then Madame ordered me to stop moving while she masturbated with me inside her (a common practice for us for years). I did. But a little while later when she ordered me to start thrusting again, I had gone half-soft! Embarassed, I immediately suggested that I withdraw and go down on her, which she accepted. It took her ages to come (perhaps because the erection malfunction had broken her mood, perhaps because of the two gins-and-tonic she had earlier imbibed).
Afterwards I apologized abjectly. "It was involuntary, Madame, but nonetheless disrespectful. And I couldn't make you come efficiently. Truly I have been very bad." I was hoping for some discipline but Madame, enjoying post-orgasmic sleepiness, was in pre-D/s mode. She smiled lovingly and told me it was all right, nothing to worry about.
"If you say so," I said, "Madame."
She gave a little ironic sigh.
"Hard to stay in character all the time, huh, Madame?"
"Exhausting! Thomas."
So we ended on a playful note, half in-character and half commenting on the theater.
Theoretically she could have allowed me to come, since a new week had commenced, and I was sort of expecting it because she had been in a generous mood all day. But since I had gone floppy on her, no deal.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Teasing, teasing, teasing...
Madame mentioned recently that she really enjoys orgasm control, and especially teasing. Although she's had me on a one-per week quota since the beginning of the year, it wasn't clear to me if I was allowed to masturbate as long as I didn't come. So I asked her and she said, "Of course not!"
This is terrifically exciting to me--the thought that only she is allowed to handle my cock and balls. The exceptions, of course, are peeing and washing. Obviously I do those daily, but they are not erotic situations. Once upon a time--it seems like ages, but in fact up until about six weeks ago or so--I would masturbate once or twice a week, in between having sex with Madame, which was on average about twice a week, too. In fact, I had been masturbating regularly, like most men, since the onset of puberty. What is more familiar to a man than the feel of his own erect cock in his hand, the weight of his own balls in his palm, the feeling of genital pleasure brought to the climax, self-piloted?
Now I have relinquished this. Madame has claimed it for her own, and I submit.
Last night I lay back and spread my legs and Madame stroked and tickled my balls and perineum. She squeezed my balls softly, so softly. Her fingers went up along my belly, returned to my balls. Eventually she took the shaft of my penis between thumb and forefinger and gently tugged up and down. Then stopped and gently scratched my inner thigh.
I don't know how long this went on. I was in a sort of trance of tension and anticipation. If it had been me, I would have grabbed my cock firmly and pumped up and down until I ejaculated. She never did that. It was all gentle caresses and small, slow jerking motions... until she patted my belly and said, "Time for sleep now." I begged her to continue. "Discipline, Thomas," she said. She had denied me my one orgasm for this week due to misbehavior and indiscipline.
It occurred to me that there are elements of orgasm denial, like femdom in general, that evoke the passivity and helplessness of infancy. A baby gets all its physical pleasure from its primary caregiver, most often its mother. It hasn't discovered masturbation, it hasn't learned to identify pleasure and seek it out, except on an instinctive level such as seeking the breast for feeding. And there I was, lying there, receptive, waiting for pleasure from Madame and helpless (consensually) to get it for myself. It wouldn't have been too surprising if I had murmured "Goo goo gah gah..." In fact I wonder if that isn't how I sounded as I groaned quietly in my other-stimulated arousal.
This is terrifically exciting to me--the thought that only she is allowed to handle my cock and balls. The exceptions, of course, are peeing and washing. Obviously I do those daily, but they are not erotic situations. Once upon a time--it seems like ages, but in fact up until about six weeks ago or so--I would masturbate once or twice a week, in between having sex with Madame, which was on average about twice a week, too. In fact, I had been masturbating regularly, like most men, since the onset of puberty. What is more familiar to a man than the feel of his own erect cock in his hand, the weight of his own balls in his palm, the feeling of genital pleasure brought to the climax, self-piloted?
Now I have relinquished this. Madame has claimed it for her own, and I submit.
Last night I lay back and spread my legs and Madame stroked and tickled my balls and perineum. She squeezed my balls softly, so softly. Her fingers went up along my belly, returned to my balls. Eventually she took the shaft of my penis between thumb and forefinger and gently tugged up and down. Then stopped and gently scratched my inner thigh.
I don't know how long this went on. I was in a sort of trance of tension and anticipation. If it had been me, I would have grabbed my cock firmly and pumped up and down until I ejaculated. She never did that. It was all gentle caresses and small, slow jerking motions... until she patted my belly and said, "Time for sleep now." I begged her to continue. "Discipline, Thomas," she said. She had denied me my one orgasm for this week due to misbehavior and indiscipline.
It occurred to me that there are elements of orgasm denial, like femdom in general, that evoke the passivity and helplessness of infancy. A baby gets all its physical pleasure from its primary caregiver, most often its mother. It hasn't discovered masturbation, it hasn't learned to identify pleasure and seek it out, except on an instinctive level such as seeking the breast for feeding. And there I was, lying there, receptive, waiting for pleasure from Madame and helpless (consensually) to get it for myself. It wouldn't have been too surprising if I had murmured "Goo goo gah gah..." In fact I wonder if that isn't how I sounded as I groaned quietly in my other-stimulated arousal.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Talk
We've been painting the kitchen this weekend, and after a long day we lounged in front of the fire and had a drink and talked. We agreed that sharing big household chores such as painting a room is made a lot more entertaining by doing it in D/s mode. There was plenty of opportunity for Madame to exercise her dominance.
She also admitted that she sometimes feels sort of guilty about enjoying domination. I assured her that according to what I've read, that's a common reaction for new dommes. And that as far as I was concerned, I welcome it, so there's no need to feel guilty over me.
We showered and went to bed. I warmed Madame's side of the bed while she had her shower, then she came in and lectured me on my many disappointing misdeeds of the day, for which she slapped my face hard. Aching with desire, I made love to her (non-penetrative of course) and was--she later agreed--particularly inspired in my cunnilingus. She was equally inspired in the long, teasing hand-job she gave me, leaving me unsatisfied, of course. This was on Saturday night.
She also admitted that she sometimes feels sort of guilty about enjoying domination. I assured her that according to what I've read, that's a common reaction for new dommes. And that as far as I was concerned, I welcome it, so there's no need to feel guilty over me.
We showered and went to bed. I warmed Madame's side of the bed while she had her shower, then she came in and lectured me on my many disappointing misdeeds of the day, for which she slapped my face hard. Aching with desire, I made love to her (non-penetrative of course) and was--she later agreed--particularly inspired in my cunnilingus. She was equally inspired in the long, teasing hand-job she gave me, leaving me unsatisfied, of course. This was on Saturday night.
Orgasm log, Jan. 26-February 1
Madame:
Friday, Jan. 30: special case: foot massage was deemed "worth an orgasm," session ended
Saturday, Jan. 31
Me:
At the last minute on Sunday, Feb. 1, Madame decreed I was to have no orgasm this week. "Discipline, Thomas," she said. Before issuing the decree she had lovingly caressed my genitals for some time. I was left gasping and twitching like a fish out of water. "Thank you, Madame," I managed to say.
JANUARY TOTAL:
Madame: 10
Me: 4
Friday, Jan. 30: special case: foot massage was deemed "worth an orgasm," session ended
Saturday, Jan. 31
Me:
At the last minute on Sunday, Feb. 1, Madame decreed I was to have no orgasm this week. "Discipline, Thomas," she said. Before issuing the decree she had lovingly caressed my genitals for some time. I was left gasping and twitching like a fish out of water. "Thank you, Madame," I managed to say.
JANUARY TOTAL:
Madame: 10
Me: 4
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