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
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Ebbs and flows
It's not always easy to keep up the D/s dynamic in the general commotion of daily life. We're both new at this and sometimes fall back on old habits.
The other night Madame expressed annoyance at me and ordered me to take off my glasses, the prelude to a slap in the face. I did so and she slapped me, but she pulled her punch--just couldn't go through and put some shoulder into it. It was a love tap. The thing is that it was so endearing! It was cute! I couldn't help smiling broadly, which put her off, but we were in the middle of dinner and it was complicated to suddenly switch into some kind of scene.
Later she tried to re-establish her gravitas and once again I was filled with affection for her and couldn't stop smiling. She took this as undermining her authority. Stepping out of role she said, "Come on, I'm trying to stay in character here and look at you!" I said, "I'm very sorry, Madame, I can't help it. I think it's something you'll have to deal with!" But she was miffed and dismissed me.
That was an ebb. Last night there was a flow. We were working together at completing forms and papers for some complicated domestic-finance issue I won't go into. As is my wont in situations like that, I became totally stressed and whiny and anxious. She quickly dressed me down for my childish behavior. She snapped orders and let me know exactly how disappointing I was being. Subdued, I became silently obedient. Later I asked her if she forgave me. "Frankly, no," she said.
I slunk off feeling forlorn. In our normal bedtime protocol, I got ready for bed and got in her side to warm it up for her. She came in and undressed. I watched avidly, as she controls my orgasms and I am borderline desperate with arousal. Then she stood by the bed and lectured me sternly again. Then, "Take off your glasses," she said. I did. WHACK. She gave me a ringing slap that more than made up for the previous day's love tap. "Thank you, Madame," I said.
She went to the bathroom to finish her nightly ritual and I lay there throbbing with love, desire and submission. It was a good night!
The other night Madame expressed annoyance at me and ordered me to take off my glasses, the prelude to a slap in the face. I did so and she slapped me, but she pulled her punch--just couldn't go through and put some shoulder into it. It was a love tap. The thing is that it was so endearing! It was cute! I couldn't help smiling broadly, which put her off, but we were in the middle of dinner and it was complicated to suddenly switch into some kind of scene.
Later she tried to re-establish her gravitas and once again I was filled with affection for her and couldn't stop smiling. She took this as undermining her authority. Stepping out of role she said, "Come on, I'm trying to stay in character here and look at you!" I said, "I'm very sorry, Madame, I can't help it. I think it's something you'll have to deal with!" But she was miffed and dismissed me.
That was an ebb. Last night there was a flow. We were working together at completing forms and papers for some complicated domestic-finance issue I won't go into. As is my wont in situations like that, I became totally stressed and whiny and anxious. She quickly dressed me down for my childish behavior. She snapped orders and let me know exactly how disappointing I was being. Subdued, I became silently obedient. Later I asked her if she forgave me. "Frankly, no," she said.
I slunk off feeling forlorn. In our normal bedtime protocol, I got ready for bed and got in her side to warm it up for her. She came in and undressed. I watched avidly, as she controls my orgasms and I am borderline desperate with arousal. Then she stood by the bed and lectured me sternly again. Then, "Take off your glasses," she said. I did. WHACK. She gave me a ringing slap that more than made up for the previous day's love tap. "Thank you, Madame," I said.
She went to the bathroom to finish her nightly ritual and I lay there throbbing with love, desire and submission. It was a good night!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Balls emprisoned
Not literally. But it's been ten days since I've been allowed to come. Today is a busy day and tonight we're going out for dinner with friends, so maybe tomorrow... Sigh.
Recent misbehavior (Jan. 24)
Failed to hang up Madame's coat. She said, "You've annoyed me. I'll have to take care of that. Not today."
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A nice night
Last night Madame and I went to bed late, ready for sleep. As I lay on my back in the dark, Madame slipped her hand between my leg. "Stay still," she instructed.
Then she gave me a nice, long teasing hand job. I was rock hard instantly, of course. She didn't take me all the way to the very edge, but not too far off. Then she withdrew her hand.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, "When I wake up, you will pleasure me. Then you'll bring me breakfast in bed: green tea, half a pear peeled and cut into two sections, and a piece of toast with butter and raspberry jam."
"Yes, Madame," I replied as my erection throbbed and tingled.
"Good night," she said, and rolled over. We went to sleep.
This morning she woke me at around 8:30. I yawned and stretched, removed my pajamas, and pleasured her. When that was done, still naked, I went and prepared her breakfast and brought it to her in bed.
I had provided a dainty little knife and fork because she likes things to be just so. But the dainty knife didn't quite match the dainty fork, so she had me replace it. Then she said, "I shouldn't have had to tell you that, Thomas. You should have brought the right knife the first time. Remove your glasses."
I did so. She slapped me. "Thank you, Madame," I said.
Then she gave me a nice, long teasing hand job. I was rock hard instantly, of course. She didn't take me all the way to the very edge, but not too far off. Then she withdrew her hand.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, "When I wake up, you will pleasure me. Then you'll bring me breakfast in bed: green tea, half a pear peeled and cut into two sections, and a piece of toast with butter and raspberry jam."
"Yes, Madame," I replied as my erection throbbed and tingled.
"Good night," she said, and rolled over. We went to sleep.
This morning she woke me at around 8:30. I yawned and stretched, removed my pajamas, and pleasured her. When that was done, still naked, I went and prepared her breakfast and brought it to her in bed.
I had provided a dainty little knife and fork because she likes things to be just so. But the dainty knife didn't quite match the dainty fork, so she had me replace it. Then she said, "I shouldn't have had to tell you that, Thomas. You should have brought the right knife the first time. Remove your glasses."
I did so. She slapped me. "Thank you, Madame," I said.
Madame is testing her authority as disciplinarian
Today Madame was exasperated in general, and there was one thing in particular that may or may not have been my fault, hard to know.
"Thomas," she said, "Remove your glasses."
I did so. She took aim for a slap, hesitated, then said, "Oh, I can't."
I laughed and said, "Madame stops and thinks too much."
"Keep those glasses off!" she said sharply, and plastered me with a good, hard slap. "Don't laugh at me!" she said, and stalked off smirking.
"Thomas," she said, "Remove your glasses."
I did so. She took aim for a slap, hesitated, then said, "Oh, I can't."
I laughed and said, "Madame stops and thinks too much."
"Keep those glasses off!" she said sharply, and plastered me with a good, hard slap. "Don't laugh at me!" she said, and stalked off smirking.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Orgasm by proxy?
I was looking forward to making Madame come last night. We went to bed and I started romantically stroking and caressing her by candelight. I gave her gentle, soft massage all over, punctuated with kisses and cuddles. I was wearing black string-style underwear, which I do to emphasize that my genitals are not in play. Madame was teasing me by idly fondling my balls through the string and by letting her fingers do the walking over my ass.
I was really looking forward to the next step, going to work on exciting her in earnest and bringing her to orgasm with whatever means she chose. Instead, she thanked me warmly for my massage and cuddling and said it was time to go to sleep. And so we did.
I was very disappointed. I had been imagining the sensations of settling my face down between her legs, breathing in her scent, feeling and tasting her with my mouth, then the delicious excitement of her orgasm. I realized that, without coming myself, I had nonetheless been using her orgasms as proxy release for myself! Her deciding not to come was a double denial--I couldn't come either for myself or in imaginative synch with her.
I was really looking forward to the next step, going to work on exciting her in earnest and bringing her to orgasm with whatever means she chose. Instead, she thanked me warmly for my massage and cuddling and said it was time to go to sleep. And so we did.
I was very disappointed. I had been imagining the sensations of settling my face down between her legs, breathing in her scent, feeling and tasting her with my mouth, then the delicious excitement of her orgasm. I realized that, without coming myself, I had nonetheless been using her orgasms as proxy release for myself! Her deciding not to come was a double denial--I couldn't come either for myself or in imaginative synch with her.
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