Asserting Control

Dominating my slave is the surest way to lift my mood and reset my entire emotional landscape. I can go from feeling anxious, guilty, and uncertain to feeling confident, positive, and assertive just by looking down into his submissive eyes, cropping him, and stating categorically that I'll be denying him. This is true even if my anxieties had nothing to do with sex or our relationship.

Sometimes I can't imagine not being dominant anymore, even though it started out as a way to indulge my husband. Why, then, do I sometimes resist it?! These episodes are coming less frequently these days, but each time they occur, I question everything from the healthiness of a femdom relationship to my husband's happiness to whether BDSM is really classified as a mental illness.

A few days ago I reasserted my control a bit forcefully.

Before his father got so sick, J had some rules that I was beginning to enforce regularly regarding his personal health habits and his cock. I had relaxed these rules for a bit, but I decided it was time to reintroduce them this week, and I sensed that he was ready as well...but feeling rebellious.

The rules I speak of are these:
1. That he exercise four times per week for half an hour minimum;
2. That he absolutely avoid fast food; and
3. That he not play with my property without my permission, even if it is only to tease himself.

The first two exist for his health and my pleasure. I want my slave not only to look physically fit and appealing, but also to have the stamina to please me at length without tiring or cramping. And I want him around to serve me for many years to come, of course. Before we implemented these rules we discussed his feelings on my use of sex to control his eating and exercise habits. He confirmed that he didn't find it demeaning and could think of no better, more enjoyable way for keeping fit.

The third rule is to ensure that submission is always on his mind. He can't even touch himself without asking my permission. And I often say no.

This weekend I told J that these rules were effective immediately, when he'd thought he had another week or two of relative freedom. He protested. Strongly. He whined. He said, "But I thought I had until next week!" When I responded, "But why wait? I want you to start this week," he did not take this hint. He whined more.

I was displeased.

This was the straw that broke the camel's back, as I had already been irritated with him for persisting in his horny attempts to arouse me when I had flat-out told him I did not intend for us to have sex today, that I wasn't in the mood to be pleasured, and that I wanted to spend some quality time together out of bed.

Finally I brought out the crop. And I cropped him hard. And I explained forcefully, each sentence punctuated by a strike, that these rules are not about what he thinks or he wants. He is the slave. I am the Mistress. I made these rules for his own benefit, and I made these rules because they please me, and that should be his only concern: that they please me. And when Mistress says no to a horny slave, that means no.

If life were logical, I would have felt bad for cropping and scolding him. Instead, I felt much better. I felt back in control. He began to exhibit the proper submissive behavior. I no longer felt guilty about denying him sex. Much (not all, but much) was right with the world.

Acting dominant makes me feel more dominant, just as acting confident or sexy makes one feel so. Now I just have to figure out how to motivate myself to act this way when I am simply not feeling it at all. Slave helps by provoking me to punish him when he sees I'm feeling down, but sometimes this backfires and makes me feel guilty for wanting to punish him instead.

Perhaps as I get more used to this lifestyle, this will happen more naturally.

Your continuously learning Mistress K

And Begging for Caging

My slave always comes up with the most devious ideas for me. I barely need to think of ways to torment him; arouse him just a bit, and he’ll end up telling me exactly what he fears and hopes I’m about to do.

That was the case yesterday as we prepared to finally order our Queen’s Keep.

Slave (who works nights and sleeps days) had left me a not-so-humble message requesting that I awaken him that afternoon by “jumping his bones.” I wasn’t particularly in the mood for that, for a variety of reasons, so I decided that I would give him everything he wanted except the orgasm. It seemed a fitting way to start the day we planned to buy our first metal cage.

As I slid naked between the silky sheets and wrapped my hand around his cock, slave immediately woke up as if he’d been eagerly anticipating the bone-jumping in his sleep. He didn’t know yet what was in store. 

“Good morning, love,” I whispered in the playfully dominant tone that he would have recognized as dangerous if he’d been fully awake. The curtains were still drawn and the room dark. His eyes were sleepy and half-aware as I pressed small kisses against his face and ear, my hand quickly teasing his penis upright. “So you want me to jump your bones this morning, hmm?” 

“Mmm, yes.” He reached for my nipples, and I let him touch briefly before deciding that wasn’t what I wanted. Instead of indulging his touch, I pulled my hand away from his cock and pressed my face against his chest, biting his nipple and kissing downward just a few inches. He gasped sharply in expectation, recognizing my usual signal that I am going to continue down his body and suck him. 

As his body tightened in readiness for my mouth, I abruptly moved back up to look him in the eyes.

“Oh, did you think I was going to suck you?” My hand brushed just the edge of the base of his erection. “Did you think I was about to move down here?”

“Yes,” he whimpered with the dawning realization that I was not in a generous mood. Suddenly, he gave me the perfect focus for the afternoon: “You’re going to make me beg to buy the cage, aren’t you?” 

I love it when slave’s innermost desires make themselves known like that. He claims he doesn’t do it on purpose, but it happens so often.

“What a good idea…” I said thoughtfully. “Yes, now that you mention it, I think I will!”

I spent half an hour extending my slow progression of licking and kisses and sucking down his chest, over his stomach, and finally to his pelvis, only to pass it by and suck hard on his inner thigh. Each time I paused to kiss him deeply on the lips before slowly starting my journey again at his nipples, my right hand always trailing down to almost touch his hardness as I kissed. If his hand ever moved toward his cock, I halted, removing it but not bothering to restrain him, starting over again from the top.

When he was breathing hard and gasping at my smallest touch, I finally, unceremoniously took him into my mouth, tightening my lips like the entrance to my pussy, sliding down in one smooth movement to take him fully inside. His balls instantly tightened in my hand, but I sucked hard for a few more seconds before drawing back to work the head with my tongue. He started begging—but not the right way.

“Oh pleeeease, let me cum, please Mistress….”

I sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Cum? Isn’t there something else you’d like to beg for instead?”

As usual, his silence did not last much longer after I applied myself to his rock-hard cock again. 

“Please…Mistress…slave wants to buy the cage…slave wants to be locked up all the time.”

I paused again—not the reaction he’d been hoping for. I released the cock and straddled him, pressing my chest to his and enjoying the intimate contact as I smiled into his eyes. “So you want to be locked up, do you, slave? That’s going to be fun.” 

“Please….” His hips were rotating against me. I was a little wet after all this teasing, and I decided to test the waters, though I doubted I’d let him cum inside me. I sat up and eased him into me slowly, drawing pained gasps from him as I withdrew over and over until he was comfortably inside. “Please…it would be fitting for me to cum inside you on this day that I begged to be caged…” he begged.

“Would it?” I asked skeptically. “I think it would be more fitting if I didn’t let you cum on this day. Don’t you agree?”

His eyes widened as he moaned a bit and shook his head. He touched me and tried to spark my full arousal, but I simply wasn’t in the right mood to follow that path. I teased him a bit more with my wetness, rotating on top of him, clenching around him. And then, with no warning, I withdrew. “Not today, slave.”

His desperate whining and thrusting into the air convinced me to finish him off quickly with a subpar orgasm that would allow him to focus on the other household affairs I wanted to discuss before he left for work. I gave him a quick and fairly unsatisfying hand job to take the edge off his horniness, and we soon proceeded to the Mature Metal website. I was gripping his still-hard cock as I clicked the mouse to finally confirm our purchase of a Queen's Keep.

A note on the purchase, for the curious: Our decision was between the Jail Bird and the Queen’s Keep. He’d favored the Queen’s Keep originally, but we considered the JB because so many people cited it as the most popular. Ultimately, we went with the QK for these reasons: my slave found it aesthetically more pleasing, and we were able to order a security screw. This would allow him to be less self-conscious about a padlock clinking inside his pants, and it would provide insurance that he couldn’t make a copy of the key. (I don’t particularly think he ever would, since this is not truly forced chastity, but it still seems to arouse him to know that he can’t.)

Besides, I must say I like the name of the Queen’s Keep better. It keeps the focus where it belongs: on me, the holder of the key.

Mistress K

French Maid Weekend: The Plan

Fantasy: One weekend my husband cleans the apartment from top to bottom, cooks dinner, manages to look pretty doing it, and is totally ready for sex afterward, while I sit back, read a book, and don’t lift a finger.

Reality: Wait…that’s his fantasy too?!

J will confirm that I have never so quickly and gleefully embraced one of his kinky ideas as I did the French Maid Weekend. I’m so excited about this that I could practically cum just planning it. (Disclaimer: J works weekends and has spent 95% of his free time since we married caring for an ill parent. I don’t want any of you to think he’s just a lazy, terrible slave. But I’m definitely ready for him to take on a more wifely role, and apparently so is he!)

Eventually I’ll buy sissy a maid outfit and some high heels for these occasions. (I hope he didn’t suggest this thinking it would only happen once….) I’m not ready to spend the money on that because we just made another major purchase. 

In the meantime, I think I’ll simply dress him prettily as befits a sissy cleaning house for his Mistress. He will be naked except for a pair of pink and purple lacy panties we ordered from Lane Bryant, and of course his leather collar. Perhaps I will lock up his cock, depending on my mood. I will have him put makeup on—something we have only tried once so far—and paint his nails for the weekend if we have no plans to go out. Throughout the day he will alternate between nipple clamps and his new anal plugs. 

I expect to feel some guilt the first time we do this. I’m used to being the cleaner, and I truly don’t mind it most of the time; to watch him working while I relax will be a little odd. However, I have a feeling that if I can get past the guilt quickly, I will luxuriate in this. 

I will relax on the couch, book in hand, while he scrubs the bathroom and the kitchen. I will sip my sweet tea, idly glancing at him as he dusts and polishes the living room around me, never truly acknowledging him except to remind him that he missed a few spots. When he bends over to pick up the things he’s left strewn about the floor I will stare at the see-through nylon covering his ass until he squirms with self-consciousness. When he squats to shine the glass coffee table next to my couch, I may stand up, bend him over that table, and smack that purple-clad ass until he’s whimpering from the stinging arousal. When he comes over to ask me if he can remove the plug for a while, I will take my time answering as I look my fill at his pouting face with his long-lashed eyes and his shiny red lips. I can picture how he will stare down at the floor, his expression half petulant and half submissive as he enjoys yet resents my reaction to his very pretty mascaraed and glossed face. 

At the end of the day, when I feel he’s accomplished enough, he will worship me with his tongue until I take my pleasure. 

J and I have discussed why this scenario appeals to both of us at length. For now, I’ll summarize: I deserve it, and he wants to do it. 

I can’t wait.

Mistress K

Begging for Plugging

My slave is lying next to me spread-eagled, blindfolded, collared, gagged, and plugged. This is fast becoming one of my favorite ways to write a blog post.

I woke up this morning knowing it was a day for teasing. With our conflicting work schedules, we rarely have a lazy day to spend on drawn-out sex play. I was not about to be rushed into a morning quickie with the whole 4^th of July day ahead of us. 

Feeling his erection poking into my back, I turned around and cuddled against him, running my hand down his body and whispering my plans to him as he woke up fully. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve been tied and gagged,” I said. “I want you collared and preparing my computer while I eat breakfast. Then I’m going to cuff you, gag you, blindfold you, tease you with my mouth, and leave you lying there while I write my next blog post. After that, I’ll ride you. And you’ll probably cum.” 

Needless to say, he woke up quickly at that.

After a leisurely breakfast with my collared slave gently massaging my shoulders and my nipples, I ordered him to the bedroom to get everything ready. As I thought about the toys, I mused, “Maybe this time I’ll slip the vibrator in your ass before I leave you there…but then I won’t have it to use for myself!”

“There’s always the butt plugs, Mistress,” he reminded me meekly. I’d forgotten those! We’d bought them about a month ago, just before the events that paused our play for a while. 

My slave is so obedient and giving, always making sure I have all the right tools at hand, even when he knows it might not bode well for him. 

Soon he was in place and I was cropping his thighs—lightly, since he’d been quite good this morning—and rubbing my pussy against his skin—along his thigh, along his stomach, anywhere but the cock that wanted it most. He wasn’t gagged just yet, and I took advantage, positioning my nipple in front of his mouth. “You may worship,” I breathed against his ear, pulling his earlobe between my teeth and grinding my moistening sex against him as he licked and lightly sucked my breast. I didn’t want to cum yet myself, and when I’d had enough of that, I moved back down and set to work bringing him to the brink with my mouth. Soon he was moaning and thrusting his hips (as much as he could, with his ankles tied to the legs of the bed—so not much). I knew these were the noises of a slave afraid he would cum without permission soon. Now was the time.

“Do you want to cum today?” I asked as I slid my body up his, punctuating the question with a sharp bite to his nipple. 

“Yes!” he gasped. 

“Then you’re going to beg for me to put the plug in your ass.”

That shut him up. He whimpered a few times, not in the tone of a man who thinks he might not cum, but in the tone of a man who knows he is about to be voluntarily emasculated just a little bit more.

I knew it wouldn’t be long, but I had no intention of drawing it out. We both knew he’d be begging soon. I closed my mouth back over his cock, pressed my fingers against the base, and started sucking hard, rubbing my tongue against his glans. Within seconds, I heard, “Please.” 

I paused to tweak his nipples hard. “Please what?” I sucked again, but it wasn’t necessary. He was already whimpering, “Please use the plug!” 

I gave him a few more seconds of stimulation as reward. “Well, since you asked….”

I had become much more comfortable with his ass since we first started anal play, and it was quite satisfying to slide the plug—the medium sized plug from the “beginner” set, which hadn’t been used yet—watching his ass resist slightly and then lovingly grip it inside. 

I gagged him, covered his ears with headphones blasting our usual bondage soundtrack, and settled in to write.

It’s quite inspiring to sit here with the vibrator between my legs listening to him groan, watching him squirm as much as he can against his ties. We had to remove the plug about halfway through once it got uncomfortable, but it was quite thrilling to pause my typing to suck him into my mouth and know that with every small thrust of his hips he was stimulated unbearably at both ends. I’ve brought him to the edge about five times now.

Time to wrap up. I want to cum. 

Happy Independence Day. Especially for those of you who’ve given up a few particular freedoms to a deserving goddess ;)

Until next time,

Mistress K

Measurements

I came home from work today to find my slave finally measuring himself for a Mature Metal cage. As soon as I came in, it became a bit too…hard for him continue, of course, but we are almost there! 

We’ve had a lot of time to reflect on our continued desire for a Mistress/slave relationship and long-term chastity. My father-in-law passed away a few weeks ago, which is why I have not posted recently. Aside from the logistics that always follow death, our sexual activity has been less playful, more intimate, and simply not suited for blog posting! Fortunately, today’s measurement session seems to have sparked us both!

It has been interesting to see that in spite of emotional upheaval my dominant tendencies have stayed strong, and J’s desire to submit and be controlled are just as important to him as ever. We aren’t going forward with domination and chastity to give him an outlet for his upset emotions—that wouldn’t be a very healthy reason. It just happens to be a good side effect. We’re continuing because through it all, that has aroused us and appealed to us and been our instinctive desire.

We discussed this matter of the motives for beginning chastity even before these events, when our measuring rings arrived. I noticed that my husband was hesitant, and possibly more nervous than aroused as it drew nearer. Somehow, through one of the deep episodes of communication I think are so necessary to this lifestyle, we realized that I have been a bit afraid of penetrative sex, and that this was influencing my desire to start chastity. 

To give an abbreviated explanation for this: Mistress K has a tight pussy (read: really damn small), we had few opportunities for sex in the past due to a lengthy long-distance relationship, and neither of us is experienced at all. This has led to about as many physically uncomfortable sexual encounters as pleasurable ones for me. This is normal, of course, but in the stress of dealing with family illness, the anxiety of worrying about whether it would be great or uncomfortable this time was outweighing my enjoyment of having a cock inside me. This obviously needed to be addressed thoroughly before we went any further. 

The solution was simple, really. I will have to thoroughly train him to pleasure me well with his cock before we begin really long periods of denial. Now that it’s framed in this way, with the proper mindset, it doesn’t seem difficult at all. Very importantly, there will be no sense that we’re missing out on a part of our sexual relationship due to fear, or that we chose the path of chastity because of any latent feelings that might lead to dissatisfaction later. 

I’ve ordered my slave to begin wearing his collar around the apartment again tomorrow, and he hasn’t been allowed to cum without permission for a week now. We are back on track. And back online.

Mistress K

Be Advised

To those who have already become return readers: Be advised that it may be a few days between posts due to real-life issues. An impending death in our immediate family, actually. Don't worry, we'll be around. Just less prolific for a week or two.

Reflections on Cum Eating and TPE

A lot of people have said that the Mistress/slave relationship is about me getting what I want. This confuses me.

In case you haven’t read before, I’ll mention that I’m a pretty novice Mistress and that I might not be a Domme if my husband weren’t so very submissive. In other words, I’m a Mistress because my husband wants to be a slave. Do you see the contradiction yet?

As we reach the end of our first full month of continuous Mistress/slave living, I’ve tried to establish boundaries in my own mind. My slave repeated to me something he found in a blog (I unfortunately don’t know which one, or I’d give credit): That safewords aren’t necessary between a married, committed, loving Domme and sub because they know each other well enough, communicate well enough, and trust enough to know when enough is enough. Thinking back to a conversation we’d had in the shower that morning, I completely agreed. 

My husband, like most submissives, tends to respond to an orgasm by retracting all of his previously stated fantasies. Before an orgasm, he says he wants to be locked in chastity for a year straight; afterward he’s certain he isn’t quite ready for anything more than a week. Before an orgasm, he’s aroused by the idea of being forced to eat his own cum; afterward he’s disgusted by it and has no interest. On this particular day, that was the matter at hand. He could tell that I was becoming more accustomed to the idea of making him eat cum, though I’d been somewhat repelled by it when he first mentioned it and had no intention of doing it. (I don’t even let him cum in my mouth. I can’t help it; I find it disgusting. I wish I didn’t.) 

As he watched me getting used to the idea, he became nervous. “I know I don’t have a safeword,” he said that day in the shower. (I “took away” his safeword, at his own instigation, during a bondage scene years ago, before I really understood this lifestyle completely.) “But how will you know if I really don’t want to do something, instead of just being stubborn or embarrassed?” 

“I think I’ll just know,” I said without having to think about it at all. “You’re my husband. I’ll know the difference between ‘That’s gross but it still really arouses me,’ and ‘That does arouse me, but I really find it disgusting and I don’t think I want to do it again.’”

“True,” he agreed, and that was the end of that. 

Lo and behold: the next night, after reaching a blinding, exhausting climax using only my slave’s mouth and fingers, I decided he deserved a reward. He had done a lot for me that day, sexually, emotionally, and domestically. I was too sated to want to bother taking him inside me, though, so I decided that he could jerk off. To balance this overly generous gift (it was his second orgasm in one day), the caveat was that he would have to taste his cum afterward.

The face he made when I put my cum-filled finger in his mouth was comical. It was perfectly clear that this aroused neither of us. We determined that I might do this again, but only in a highly dominant scene of control and bondage. If he was tied spread-eagle, blindfolded, plugged in the ass, and gagged, then it might be arousing to force cum into his mouth through the gag. The atmosphere would be the deciding factor, though.

I don’t really get off on control. I just enjoy the perks of this female-led relationship. I enjoy having great orgasms without worrying about his. I enjoy having help with the housework. I enjoy getting back massages and brownies without having to ask. But I don’t derive any real pleasure from controlling him simply because I can. (My husband might disagree. And he might be right. That’s a debate for another day, though.)

This seems very contrary to some of the opinions I’ve seen expressed in various blogs and forums. I’ve noticed quite a few people—both dominant and submissive—stating that the slave should never be able to say no to anything, and that the complete power of forcing unwanted actions like eating cum is essential to the D/s relationship. Forcing J to do something for the sake of exercising my power, when he genuinely finds disgusting and not very arousing, just doesn’t seem fun to me. Maybe that makes me less of a Mistress.

I guess I am not much interested in definitions for now. I’m interested in enjoying an unusual and special relationship with my husband.

Mistress K