Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Any comments on the medical implications of chastity

Cuckold Pleasure has an interesting post today on some research documenting an inverse relationship between frequency of orgasm and prostate cancer. This is obviously a serious subject and since many of you are chastised males, or dommes who chastise males,  and I might add, quite articulate, I do wonder if you have any relevant opinions on the matter.

The specific post and the link can be found at chastity-orgasm-prostate-cancer. Like most men I would masturbate rather often.  Now that I am caged I am allowed a ruined orgasm perhaps three time a month.  eM rarely lets me out of the cage to cum, and I cannot remember the last time I was free to masturbate.

Contrariwise, Mistress Ivy over at  Becoming a Mistress, which, BTW is a very nice blog, has a different opinion.

I would greatly appreciate any feedback.  Many thanks in advance.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Some Random Thoughts on Approbation

Furcissy over at Sentiments From an Enslaved Sissy had an interesting post on affirmation, which however, took me in a somewhat different direction. Curiously, I began thinking about an episode yesterday with eM, and, of all things, Victor Frankl's very fine book Man's Search For Meaning. It has been a very long time since I read it, have made a mental note to do so again, but I remember one important truth from the book - the observation, based on Frankl's horrific experience under the Nazi's, that meaning can be found in fact, where none could previously have been found in imagination. The book is seminal and I heartily recommend it, but erudition is the not the point of today's post.

For much of my life I have been very much the alpha wolf. For many of those years I have been involved in a business where one "counted coup" on one's business associates and success was measured, also symbolically, by the number of scalps hanging from the lodge pole." (I apologize for the recent viewing of Jeremiah Johnson. And I am, after all,in the mountains as I write this.) All of that implies no unfairness, no cravenness nor dishonesty, and I always tried my best to treat people with great respect.  But in my head I made it my business to always be more right, more strong, more whatever, than the competition. A strong tendency towards reclusivity made it easy to achieve with solitude and withdrawal, what could not be achieved by reason and rhetoric.

eM and I were having a discussion and she expressed an opinion, followed by a request, that not only proscribed something she did not want me to do, but also seemed to me to be based more on emotion than on reason. I, of course was relying on reason alone. (And for those of you who believe that here is a nice County bridge for sale.) It was not a large request, and I am sure there is more than one male submissive reader out there who is going into the "Yes, Mistress, whatever you say, Mistress" mode.

It is of course no surprise that men will do pretty much anything for good sex, and yes, eM could have pulled rank.  But this was something a little different - this was my wife and best friend asking her husband to understand - no actually not understand - just accept how she felt.

Happily the usual inner conflict lasted only about 30 seconds.  I love eM to death, and it was suddenly, and with great clarity, easy to do what she was asking.

For the greater part of my adult life I was able to take care of recurrent hormonal disharmony ("The Hunger" to co-opt the title of a favorite movie.) by seeking out pro dommes and the occasional kinky lover. And of course during those encounters I would be just the perfect little submissive, in exchange for the sexual release of course.  I would even, in rather silly attempts at freezing time, importune a particularly adept pro domme to pursue the possibility of becoming an "item". Curiously, on the few occasions when there was some reciprocal interest I would be the one who bolted.  I did indeed want the sex, but could see no mechanism therein for bridging the gap to submitting when sex was not involved. To put it rather prosaically, if I was not horny, I was pretty content being alone.

No longer, and not so with eM. I agonized for weeks prior to proposing to her. During that time I was miserably unhappy until I realized that the source of that unhappiness was not my fear of proposing, but rather the reluctance to do so.  One morning while eM was preparing to return to her own house (I was actually naked and tied spread-eagled to the bed.) when I asked her to sit and talk for a moment. Deciding then and there that in order to get any peace in my life it was going to be "either all in or all out" I proposed. (Sort of puts all of you who dropped down on one knee to shame, doesn't it?)

It was at that point that I discovered that a relationship is not, even a little, a zero-sum game. Having two people in the house, when they are in love, does not reduce by half, the living space of either. On the contrary, it rather seems to augment it. And I have found, happily, that result is not limited to the simple perception of square footage.

The great joy for me of the D/s lifestyle, aside from the sex, is that it is a constant affirmation of the fact that the act of submitting to someone you love, in no way diminishes the alpha side of one's nature. eM, with an adamantine clarity has convinced me that not only does she love the submissive, she loves the man who is submitting -  even if he is tied to the bed.

The title of this blog is drawn from a line in the chapter on friendship from St. Exupery's wonderful The Little Prince. Would that I could write a fraction so articulately about the process whereby a fox comes in from the forest and finds a friend, and in my case, a lover.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Sundry from the Hour of the Ox

This is my favorite time to write.  Temperament, vocation, and after so many years, habit  conspire to wake me very early. I was raised in quite a rural setting,. have always been quite reclusive and introspective, and yet for much of my life I was thrust into crowded settings and organizational mindset. Blessedly, eM and I are retiring to the mountains soon, but for the nonce O' Dark Thirty is the only time my world is quiet and not beset with noise and constant whining.  Hence it is the perfect hour for belle lettres.

There are three experiences which everyone should have at least once.

For some years I made my living on the ocean and remember numerous times when, late in the evening, the engines were shut down, all but the masthead lights were off and we were hove to being rocked gently hundreds of miles from shipping lanes. The only ambient light was celestial and, especially on moonless nights, there were more stars than you can possibly imagine.  And they were there, right there, just out of reach and spreading their soft collective glow onto the waves.  At such times it is easy to see why Aristotle opined we lived inside a sphere. At least once in everyone's life they should get to see nothing for a hundred miles, but the ocean bedecked solely in her own jewelry. At least once you should get to see that.

But there is always noise at sea.  It is always natural, often gentle and never intrusive, but it is rarely silent on the ocean. Our first night in the mountains at our new home eM and I were sitting on the deck, about the Hour of the Dog, looking out over the hills. "Do you hear that?", I said. "What", rejoined eM. "Nothing" Just nothing.  At least once you should get to hear just that.

But for now I am in the city.  We are leaving later today and there is so much to prepare. I wanted to start the process last evening, but it was a  long frustrating day at work, followed by  private clients. By the time eM got home from work I was hot, tired, and feeling harried. But we have two ineluctable house rules that help maintain our lifestyle during, well, life.  First, whenever eM comes home I am to stop what I am doing and go to greet her.  I don't have to drop down into the "position" or anything; I just have to punctuate the day with a hug and a kiss which, may, especially if I am locked up, lead to a grope and a squeeze.  That is in part precisely why we have the rule.  eM loves to finish kissing me by taking the very edge of my lover lip in her teeth and slowly increase biting until it is exquisitely painful. Since I cannot for obvious reasons pull away, it is also quite submission inducing.  I am forced to stand there and go closer to and deeper into the hurt rather than try to pull further away from it; which of courses forces me closer to eM,  and has me melting into her. In a wonderful way which you either understand or you don't,  all of that has me identifying the bite with pleasure and intimacy. As I said, you either understand it or you do not.

Our second house rule is that at the end of each day, to some degree, eM will beat me.  She may use one of our whips, the cane, or some other implement.  And while always attention getting, these beatings may be on the light side of discipline or run to the heavy edge of punishment. The choice is eM's and the very point is that, no matter how little I am in the mood, or how much life seems to be intruding, I am simply to submit to, and trust eM's discretion.

And so, last evening I went upstairs to take a shower.  eM was resting in her chair and reading. She was tired as well and I was hoping all the preparations for going on vacation would have her declining to come upstairs. She was, however, waiting for me when I exited the shower. I lay down across the bed to wait as patiently as possible when when she patted me on the shoulder and turned me over to speak to me.  I, of course was naked, and eM was fully clothed.  This always seems fitting to me.

"I have a feeling this is not what you want tonight."

"No, no, let's do this."

"But I can see you pulling away.  It's late and you need some sleep.  Are you sure?"

"Yes, this is the rule, and we need to do this like we agreed."

And so we did.  eM is no fool and although it was not by any measure the worst beating she has ever given me, it was not insignificant either. It was not long before I had tears in my eyes. At some point, the best point really, one just stops tensing and accepts that their Mistress is going to beat them and there is nothing to be done about it.  Yes, that is the best point.

When it was over eM always sits on the bed and I fold over onto my side to put my head in her lap. She is very wet at such times and were it not so  late I would have importuned to lick her.

"It was not what you wanted", she said, "but is was what you needed."  God, I love her.

Finally, today is the day that MB is going to come over.  It may be that there will be some small discrepancy between what I wrote in Well, You Did Ask! (Parts I- III), and what actually transpires tonight. I mean I suppose it is possible that eM and MB will have perused those posts and together they will make great effort at making my fantasy come true. Naahhh! Not very possible at all. I suspect rather that like the quotidian discipline that eM provides; they -  being both wise and lovely ladies - will together decide to give me not what at all what I want, but rather what I certainly need. And at least once everyone should get to have that.  At least once.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Chastity and Irony

eM commented this morning that I had not posted in a few days.  Just two observations prior to continuing: First of all we are transitioning to a new home at the same time we are both working full schedules; which for me also means working an additional half-job at my vocation, as well as completing the chores given to me by eM.  There are things to get done both before and after work.

One of my mentors once recounted that he, being late for a column, withdrew to the bathroom at a party and knocked out a piece on his laptop in about 15 minutes. (Note: I am not using "piece" equivocally, so get your mind out of the gutter.)  Anyway, the second reason I have been relatively silent is that, while do I feel clever enough to write something, even something passable, extemporaneously, the few followers I have have remarked, quite kindly, that my blog is written well.  I am in no wise the individual alluded to above.  Would that I had his talent, but alas I do not. Hence I would rather write less and well, than opt for quantity.

I could, I suppose take the easy way out and go the visual route - but not this time.  Anyway...

Many men in chastity devices, at least until the body develops new responses when it is in a somnolent state, often have trouble with nocturnal erections. Heretofore I never did and in the past the P-5000 chastity cage that I wear caused relatively few problems.   Moreover, eM would take it off every couple of days just before bed, tease me until I was incoherent, and then lock me back up for bed. When she did this while I was locked up, however, the frustrated attempts at turgidity would, if done often enough, cause some mild abrasion.  But in the main, when I wasn't trying to do something which a chastity device is specifically designed to prevent one from doing, I have found the device to be extremely comfortable. It is also virtually invisible under clothing.

As can be seen from the image at the right, the device leaves the glans free, encases the shaft, and prevents pull-out by means of an insert which makes use of a PA piercing. eM loves the fact that when tormenting me she can lightly stroke the glans, or the small cross section of the shaft which tries to poke through the bars. And while I cannot get off from that sort of stimulation, I can be driven nearly mad. I have also found the device very difficult to defeat with a vibrator.

But for some reason this past Friday evening had me sleeping very fitfully and in a lot of discomfort. Friday was the worst, but this has been happening to a lesser extent over the past few weeks, and more than I remember from my last long term lockup. As of yet I have not figured out quite why.

eM, while strict, is not a sadist, and in response to my request, unlocked me to "let things air out a bit" as she put it. Moreover, when I am locked up, which actually is why I am locked up, either I, or the Magic Wand spend a great deal of time between eM legs. She complained of being a little sore as well and wanted some respite from stimulation.

I was actually a bit concerned about whether or not the nocturnal discomfort I was experiencing could be injurious. I suspect at the end of the day it is not and that the body just needs some time to develop nocturnal reactions that will not cause discomfort.  This seems to be the experience of other locked up submissives as well. But a further concern for me was my age. I am in my seventh decade, and good health, good genes, and a good bit of self abuse (to speak clerically) have left me with a pretty healthy prostate, and relatively little problem with the sort of impotence that plague older men. But when eM released me, and subsequently started fondling me I found that I remained more flaccid than tumescent.  Indeed, in order to give  me even a rather minimal and ruined orgasm, it was necessary to use the Magic Wand.  I think in retrospect that this was in part because the epidermis on my penis was a little raw and that manual stimulation was not all that pleasurable.  In any case, men, as they age, worry a lot about their penises and I must admit, rather embarrassingly, that I am no exception.

Fur Sissy, with whom I have had some very nice correspondence, was very helpful, and relayed his experience that "they call them chastity devices, not impotence devices" and that observation, as well as the rest of his correspondence, was quite helpful.  Things would revert to "normal" over the course of a day.  Indeed they did. Thanks, Fur.  However, as I ruminate on what is going on this gets "curiouser and curiouser".

Over the past day and a half I have tried to see if I could get myself erect. I have gotten fully erect, I just cannot seem to do it "on demand".The skin is still a little irritated, so yanking on the damn thing does not do the trick. (Sorry, eM, its just in the name of science.)  I did get erect, nocturnally this morning, so I am sure the plumbing works.  But here is what I find curious.  One always reads about men who, after being locked up for a bit, are let out, spring to life, given a supervised masturbation, and then locked back up. But perhaps in part due to my age, and the somewhat diminished libido that is attendant upon it, this seems no longer possible.

More to the point I have found is that I simply don't feel like sex outside of the D/s dynamic. Lady Grey over at A Woman In Control intimated the same to me in a comment a few days ago. Conceptually, if not psychologically, it is fairly straight forward to say something like: Man wants to cum, woman locks up man and only lets him out to cum when he's been good. But its a little more complicated when, again either due to age, a preponderance of kink, or both, the man only wants to cum when, well, he's not allowed to.

When I first met eM many years ago she was quite young.  Back then, prior to discovering her own predilections, she did things mostly to please me, and neither of us had enough experience to know much of what we were doing.  (My first piercing was actually done by eM with a sewing needle and she used it to make way for one of her earrings in my left nipple. Although I have worn rings in both nipples for nearly four decades, that was my first time, and very much the best.) In any case, one time back then she had me tied standing up with my hands extended above my head. She was teasing me and I, being much younger, and much randier, was pretty much stiff as an iron bar.  Both of us wanted very much for the experience to culminate in sex, and so eventually eM cut me down, upon which I became semi-soft. With a precociousness which has never left her eM exclaimed: "Just because I untied you!"

It does seem, to paraphrase Lady Grey, that I have reached the point that, having a Mistress to satisfy a long denied inner life, that inner life is no longer going to take a back seat. Such a strange thing.  I am fully recovered, if indeed that is the word, and at eM's direction I locked myself back up this afternoon and secured the key.  Sure enough, as a very perspicacious eM once commented, "Men always want what they can't have".  It seems I still cannot get an erection "on demand", albeit now for a very different reason.

Friday, June 3, 2016

On Humility and Service

Catchy title, and yes, today's post is about exactly those two mainstays of the D/s lifestyle -  except that I'm not going to say all that much about the scene.

Last evening was the second in a series of measures designed to ward off a recurrence of eM's discontent from earlier in the week.  eM loves vintage films and while she was at work I searched online to see if I could find a copy of My Man Godfrey.  I've been wanting to share it with eM for some time, but when last I looked it was only available in VHS format. Since eM and I don't even own a VHS player, that certainly would not do. Happily, I found it not only available on CD, but that additionally I could either rent or buy via Amazon.  I've mentioned the movie to eM numerous and texted her that there was a private showing later that evening. She queried about the showtime, and I rejoined, somewhat playfully, that that depended on how badly she wanted to whip me, and how much oral gratification she wished post flagellation . Someday, perhaps when I am all grown up, I will learn to watch what I say.

The film stars William Powell and Carole Lombard, who Wikipedia informs me were married briefly and divorced a few years prior -  a fact which goes some way towards explaining the extraordinary onscreen chemistry between the two. Ms. Lombard's (b. Jane Alice Peters) second husband was Clark Gable. At the time of her tragic death in a plane crash at age 33 she was the highest paid actress in Hollywood. William Powell is well known for his role in the Thin Man series.  He outlived her by a considerable margin and died when he was 91. For this film, Powell and Lombard were both nominated for Best Actor and Best Actress respectively. The film was designated Culturally Significant by the Library of Congress, and selected for preservation in the National Film Registry.

Gail Patrick Argentinean Magazine corp.jpgNot to give short shrift to those of you who need something prurient to focus on, the film co-stars Gail Patrick.  She plays Lombard's older sister,  the haughty and supercilious Cornelia Bullock, who, with her amazingly husky and sexy voice, would suggest femdom to a Baptist minister. (Although to someone who has been locked up for a while, kittens might well suggest femdom.  But I digress.) From the outset of the film she holds a certain animus towards our hero, and there is a lovely scene wherein she, bedecked in a satin gown to end all satin gowns, sits and solely to humiliate, instructs Godfrey in a voice fairly dripping with musk, to kneel and clean a spot off her shoe. While in no way her substantive inferior he, like any good servant, simply does what he is told to do quite dispassionately. I understand completely, I really do. (Shiver!)

Additionally, there are many other supporting cast, but the film is so well done, and they are so good at their craft, that it is somewhat misleading to speak of them in the diminutive. Put simply, in terms of both production and cast, the film is nearly flawless.

Powell plays Godfrey, someone to the manor born and who, for reasons best divined by watching the film, finds himself on skid row by the East River. Quite destitute, his succor comes in the form of a job offer to "buttle" from Irene (Lombard), the quirky youngest daughter of the Park Avenue Bullocks; certainly one of the nuttiest households ever to grace the stage.

But in addition to being wildly funny, and marvelously acted, the film is also something of a morality play and was certainly topical for the period. (1936).  Throughout we see "people of substance" possessing little except extravagance, and those with seemingly little, having a great deal of wisdom. But that is rather too simplistic, for Godfrey, standing somewhat astride both worlds gives at the end a wonderful monologue in which each class is described, quite symbiotically, as very much a foil for the virtues, as well as the vices, of the other.

Godfrey, it must be said, while being quite intelligent, and in no wise a doormat, finds pride and fulfillment, albeit temporary, in "being a very good butler". Also, quite understandably, on film at least, for all of his dual epiphany of  humility and self-reliance, he is no match for the wiles of Carole Lombard in satin. But then who among us would be?

And despite laughing nearly non-stop throughout the film, eM decided the night was still young enough to administer my quotidian whipping. Somewhat like Godfrey, she finds fulfillment is "being a very good whipper".  I told you it was a morality play.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Ecce Homo

Typically, blogs about the D/s power exchange make great use of fantasy, and to nearly the same extent, nomenclature.  One notable exception is Kathy's blog over at femdom101. Although there are often times when, being male, I dearly wish for more prurient details about her dominance over her husband; not only does she steadfastly refuses to furnish them, she  keenly admonishes any of her followers who importune for such. Hence, this popular and rather and durable blog has survived solely on the richness of her narrative of her and her husband John's remarkable story.

Her blog is very aptly named and today's post Lessons Learned is a wonderful testimony to the core dynamic of this lifestyle. While her husband John is very much in thrall to her,  (emphasis on very) this is first and foremost a blog about people. Well done, Ma'm.

Of bunnies and vanilla

Last evening found eM in one of those chronic funks that beset us all.  Nothing serious, although she was quieter than usual, in some discomfort, and in desperate need of a world whose borders extended no further than myself, our dog, and our TV.  You must understand that for me, when eM smiles, it lights up the world, and when she doesn't the resultant darkness makes it difficult to assess the reason. Like most men, my first response is to try to fix whatever is wrong, like a broken faucet, when in fact this often tends to make things worse. It is a helpless feeling and last night I tried my best, with perhaps a few successes and a few failures in the final tally.

On the plus side, I suggested we watch a movie, one of my all time favorites, but one which eM had never seen.  It was of course the classic Harvey, with James Stewart.  I am sure most everyone has seen it, and a synopsis would be superfluous,  but it was wonderful to see, at least for an hour or so, eM laugh and lose herself in a simple world bordered by Main Street, silly Aunts, maple trees, large Victorian homes, serendipity romance, old world manners, and, of course, rabbits. If  nothing else it is one of the pleasantest and most charming movies ever made. And eM loved it.

Loving to write, and loving memorable phrases, Harvey has furnished one of the most enduring.  When asked by Dr. Chumley why he offered no resistance to his Aunt Veta's machinations to get him committed Stewart's rejoins:

"Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, "In this world, Elwood, you must be" — she always called me Elwood — "In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.

Even so simple a thing as cutting and pasting that makes me smile.  I hope it does the same for eM when she reads it.  Feel better love.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

si jeunesse savait .....

I am not French, nor, while I can read the language to a fair degree, am I particularly immersed in French culture.  However the title of this post is the first half of a French proverb which I first noticed in Carl Jung's Modern Man in Search of a Soul, (which I read in high school, and which had a profound influence on me) .  The entire line of course reads:

si jeunesse savait et si vieillesse pouvait .

which is often translated as;

if the young only knew how, and the old only could.

I am in my sixties and while still quite hale and active (I am to a certain extent still a professional athlete) I can lay claim to having lived at least half of my life in somewhat of a malaise. You see, my first sexual experiences were decidedly submissive in nature (control and dominance from a woman),

"And painful pleasure turn to pleasing pain" -- Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen.

This was at the age of seven and, by coincidence pretty much at the same time, figuratively speaking, of course, I began sacking my first city. And so, for the next threescore years I've pretty much lived an absolutely schizoid existence steeped in this great tension between the inner and the outer: omote and ura.

Back in those days I was certainly younger and was certainly able, but femdom was far less ubiquitous. There were a few pros, but they were scarce and their services, especially on the income produced from summer jobs and weekends, were not inexpensive..  But the lack of wherewithal was not really the problem.  I say that because as I became more successful, and a little more affluent, and femdom was a little less "out there", me, "r" the sacker of cities, to paraphrase Homer, would never have allowed his desire for submission out into the sunlight after a session with a professional dominatrix. Please do not misunderstand me.  For me, seeking the solicitude of professionals was the only way to attain any sort of inner/outer balance, and for that reason alone I brook no insolence towards such women. They, especially the ones skilled in understanding, were very cherished ports in all too frequent psychic storms.

But it must be noted that I continued to prefer the ministrations of professionals precisely because even when eventually I met women who would not cringe at dating a sexually submissive male, and who would have been quite happy to have me surrender to them, I simply had no idea how (to quote eM) to surrender to myself . Alas, a surfeit of ability, and a dearth of knowledge.

But to give a somewhat doleful paraphrase of Housman:

"of my fourscore years and ten,
sixty will not come again."

I find myself pondering anew the proverb alluded to above. As any readers know, after several abortive attempts at the lifestyle, eM and I reached a turning point a few months ago when eM suggested that:

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” – E.E. Cummings

But attendant on my recent epiphany, is, as the French suggests, a somewhat diminished capacity.  Of course the more I am kept locked away and denied intercourse, and the wetter eM becomes, the more I fantasize about being inside of her.  But, were the truth to be told,  were she to allow me to do so, I would probably have a profound feeling of self-betrayal. Vanilla sex is far more conducive to impotence than age, or so I have found.  When I was younger and more wanton, there was libido to waste , and waste it I certainly did.  It would have been interesting to see, if, at the height of my powers (and my ignorance) I could have suffered to be locked up long term.  I'll never know.  But now it seems like a little femdom husbandry, and regular milking goes a long way, and I am in general quite content with diminished access to my genitals.  The good news is that there seems to be no limit to the amount that I can be teased and still revel in the frustration of it all.

I was once told by a woman that it was her opinion that whereas men's orgasms are quite local, a woman's are much more "diffuse" to use her word.  Recently, since I've found that the chastity cage really does prevent an orgasm (although with eM's and the Magic Wand's assistance I can be milked) and that I cannot end run it, that pleasure is, as my lady friend opined, more diffuse. It is certainly not local.

I am in no doubt that eM loves me totally and completely.  She is however somewhat younger than me and I wonder about the effect of chastity on a libido already diminished a little by age. As the years pass, how, what form would it take, for us to be still in the scene, still sexual, and for eM to be fulfilled? More on this later.



Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Well, You Did Ask! Addendum

I wish to apologize for the atrocious typos in my last post.  Our recently installed internet on the mountain limps along at about 1.5 megs, and even such simple actions as cutting and pasting can be maddening.  Moreover, although I brought along my laptop, I usually type on a keyboard and use an attached mouse, and I brought along neither on vacation.

All that is by way of explanation, but there is really no excuse for such sloppy editing and eM has assured me that we will discuss this later.  In any case, I have begun to edit the post and believe I have gotten rid of the most egregious mistakes. Again, my sincere apologies.

I do hope you all enjoyed the several posts (however flawed).  The actual meeting will take place in a couple of weeks. To the extent I am allowed I will certainly debrief with all of you.

Monday, May 30, 2016

Well, You Did Ask! Part III-B

I have been sitting cross-legged and I am a little stiff.  At one time I was able to sit in the Japanese kneeling position of seiza for a fairly long time, at least by Western standards, but years of being rode hard and put away wet now make kneeling in such a fashion impossible.  That is too bad because depending on the circumstances sitting in seiza can be either very elegant (alpha Sybil), or very supplicating (submissive Sybil). In either case when sitting in sieiza, one can keep one’s back straight and elevated as the context demands.  Sitting cross-legged, tailor style, just seems a bit too plebeian for any context save resting. 

I push myself onto my hands and knees and as instructed kiss the ladies feet, being careful to start with eM’s. She is the Mistress of the house, and I always want her to feel secure in her position, but MB is other and different and the male psyche, submissive or not, is always seeking new cities to sack, or in this case, new feet to grovel to.  You say “tomato”…..

I love kissing eM’s feet. I love their smell, and I love the way kissing her feet makes me feel. They are part of a situation which is well worked out between us, and so I know what to expect when I kiss eM’s feet, especially since she loves it also. eM is not wearing stockings and I love to take my time to suck on each toe and then to slide my tongue down into the crevasse between each toe.  When I am allowed to drink wine I will take a sip and then suck on each of eM’s toes in turn bathing them in wine. I think she loves it; I know I do.

I am very tentative as I move to MB’s feet precisely because I don’t know what to expect, but the mere act of offering submission to a new women is a heady and symbolic act.  It is at the very least a very salutary and cathartic act of admitting to another woman exactly what you are.  A submissive is turned on in part precisely because, whereas he really wants the world to know what he is so he can be freed from a very great internal struggle, he knows that in this world anyway, he cannot do so.  That is why a lot of femdom fiction involves gynarchcy. A world run by women, who are also in control in the bedroom, is a very heady fantasy. I am also very grateful to eM for allowing all this to take place, albeit under her watchful eye.

All of this is going through my head as move to MB's feet. (By this point I am not happy with the nomme de plume I have picked. “Nita” is a corruption of her name, and until she picks another of her own volition, I shall go with "MB".  My apologies to all.) MB has just come from work and she is wearing stockings, or rather pantyhose, but beggars cannot be choosy, and I am afraid at this point begging is very much the point.  Besides, I have not yet been told I can have any wine and so I am reduced to merely kissing the feet of two lovely women, and inhaling their lovely odor.  Ah well, life must go on despite such travails.

A sub’s mind is such a mecurial thing.  When I was kissing eM’s feet I wanted the owner of those feet to sexually enslave me for a dozen eternities.  (A submissive male is nothing if not hyperbolic.) And when I was kissing MB’s I wanted to be handed off to the owner of those lovely feet and have her torment me in whatever time I had left over from the dozen eternities spent with eM.  I didn’t say it made any sense. Besides, this is my locked up, and very frustrated penis talking here; a penis which is rather painfully pushing out through the slits in my chastity cage. The only relief I have had in some time is eM lightly stroking my engorged and caged shaft with her fingertips through those slits. The sexual thrill of her doing that is greater than the pain imposed from the cage. Of course then she takes her hand away and sits back and relishes my torment. (Note to self: write blog post about S&M and Gate Theory.) In any case, at present neither of these ladies seems to have any interest in my genitals.  They are swollen, and the black cage is all the more prominent in that I am otherwise naked. Is not my eM magnificent for allowing all this to take place?

After paying due homage to both MB’s and eM’s feet I rise to my feet take eM,s and MB’s glass  and proceed to the kitchen to refresh the ladies’ wine.  eM likes mild red’s and MB likes somewhat sweet white Moscato and I made very sure to pick some up prior to her arrival. I intend to let the women talk and take my time a bit while getting the wine.  I want to let them talk among themselves for two reasons.  Firstly, the thought of two women discussing your fate out of earshot, while being banished away, is very hot. After all, if I wanted to be in charge I’d be writing about having two women fetching my wine. But I never been interested in that sort of thing.  Secondly, and less selfishly, I realize that even very dominant women think far less about being dominant, than submissive men think about being submissive.  Hence I realize that they are doing this in part for me. Both eM and MB made it very clear they will not allow me to top from the bottom, and since I am sure both of them could muddle along just fine without dominating me it needs to be said – to both of them – that I realize what a great gift this is --  and that I am enormously grateful. And I need to show that gratitude by not trying to make this entirely about me. Although I am a raging Leo and, as Woody Allen once said, “I do not like to attend any party which is not for me”, I really do care, each in their own way, for both these ladies. I want the experience to be worth the time they’ve put into it.  MB came all the way across town after working all day, and eM is allowing me to declare my desire to be submissive to another woman. I really can’t claim I’m personal hardship here.  So I want to give them ample time to talk about their own interests.  And while the perverted little places in my mind are imaging things like: “Why don’t you take him on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ll take him the rest of the week, and be sure not to let him mix your dirty panties with mine when he does your hand wash”, or words to that effect; they are probably talking about family, cosmetics, and how much trouble men are in general.  (It is not for nothing Dommes blindfold men when they session. At the very least it gives them time to pee without ruining the mood.)

After a suitable length of time I return to the living room and bring both eM and MB their wine. MB has, in the interim gone to use our private bathroom  which is upstairs.  I like the fact that she did not use the one for guests which is on the first floor. MB's using our privaae bathroom is quite arousing to me, as it would have been if eM had gone instead.  eM knows how much I love ingesting her urine.  I do realize that it is lot of trouble for a woman, when she just wants to sit and go, to have to attend to filling a glass for a sub. But it is an exquisite joy for me.  In the past when eM was more willing to let me drink her, she would come home from work, use the bathroom, come out and hand me a special wine glass we used for such a ritual.  I would take the glass in my left hand, put my right arm around her waist and hold her close.  As the smell and taste of her most intimate fluids engulfed my senses I would find myself melting into her and shuddering.  For me it is a most special, intimate, and symbolic act to ingest the urine of a dominant woman.  It is quite healthy to do, and at one and the same time both humiliating and elevating. I find nothing “dirty” about it, and I wish I was able to drink eM more frequently. And I confess that yes, insofar as I have been thinking a lot about MB’s pussy these last couple of weeks, it should not be surprising that I find that which comes out of her pussy quite intriguing. I cannot help but wonder on which side of the boundary line such an act will fall.

I place MB’s glass by her chair and hand eM’s glass to her.  She has a very intent look on her face and I have no idea what she is thinking.  I, of course, want a hint of how things will progress, and she knows I want a hint, and of course none is forthcoming. When one is in a sexual frenzy the desire to attend to that frenzy is enormous.  eM however is not in such a frenzy and is quite content to sit, with her legs crossed and accept her glass of wine. I sit on the rug as  previously instructed and wait for MB’s return. 

From where I am sitting I can see the stairs.  I have no idea if women are aware of any of this, I suspect they are, but if there is anything more arousing than a woman in a skirt walking upstairs away from you; it is a woman in a skirt waking down stairs towards you. eM's present and sitdting company accepted of course, but it doesn’t take too much deftness on the part of a sub to look up at the approaching legs and hips and fashion a couple eternities worth of tease and denial fantasies. Of course women know this.  They have been making stairway entrances since the invention of stairways. And eM must know all this quite well because she interrupts my looking up by extending one crossed leg, and with her foot turns my face away from the stairs. By a pre-arranged signal she points at the floor indicating that I should lower my eyes.  All can see are MB’s legs as she approaches and sits down.  She is a fairly senior manager in a large organization, and I’m sure the skirt she is wearing is not the one she wore to work.  I never understood this sort of retreat behind the vanilla since I think that a short skirt would help a great deal in managing men who have a problem taking direction from a woman. (Another post, and I digress.) MB has taken her seat.  She picks up her wine, takes a casual sip, and looks at me.  I of course have not been given permission to look at her, or, even to look up, since eM directed me to lower my eyes.

“So, r, would you like to tell me about the fantasies you’ve been having about me, in secret, and without either my or I might add,  eM's’ permission. I came all the way over here after work so please don't disappoint me by being shy.  After all, you are sitting naked at our feet, wearing a cock cage, so you really should't be overly concerned about how silly you look; because you do look very silly.

"I don't want to make eM angry by making her think I am interested in being dominated by another woman. I love her very much"

"r, of course she is going to be angry, but not about you wanting to serve me.  She is going to be angry because you've disappointed her, again apparently, by not trusting her enough to know what is best.  She loves you very much, and is, perhaps, perhaps,  going to allow me to make some use of you.  What use I make of you, if any, will be determined by your Mistress and myself, and is no real concern of yours.  Whatever use I do make of you - again if any- will definitely  NOT involve you topping from the bottom.  Now, would you please proceed.  And remember, if you disappoint me you will not get this opportunity again."

"Before I was locked up I would come home from work and masturbate using a couple of different things that you said as the core of such fantasies."  I look over to eM who looks more amused than anything else.  She nods so very slightly indicating I should not be looking at her, but at MB.

"And how often would you masturbate, thinking about me." 

"I would masturbate once a day on average, and sometimes more when the Hunger took over, but it would not always be about you. But the couple of weeks prior to eM locking me up, when I did not think eM wanted to be a full time Mistress, and when I was feeling a desperate need to be under control, I would make you, in my fantasies, into a full time Mistress instead."

"Then, now that eM has you locked up, and has decided to control you, you have no further need to submit to me, is that what you're trying to say?  r, please tell me something I did not already know?"

"I think you and she would dominate me in too very different but necessary ways. For instance, once when we were being intimate, and I mentioned my desire to live as a sissy, you said "that you could really get into that."  You even went so far as to have me wear some of your old skirts, and your underwear when we were together in the house. And you once told me that you were going to give me a make over.  eM has no desire to feminize me, and that is the thing. She might do so, to please me, but if she did it to please me, it would not really fulfill my fantasy to be feminized and humiliated.  But since you would like it, and it would be out of my control, it would fulfill that fantasy.  eM's "loaning me out for domestic service is not only a great grace from her, but allows me to more easily slip into my role."

"What do you see your role as, r?" 

"To spend a good portion of my life being subservient to dominant women.  eM is not only my Mistress, she is also my wife, and she also wants a partner.  If she really wanted to control everything, and was willing to use my addiction to femdom to extort my compliance, I would submit quite willingly. But her need to dominate me, which is admittedly pretty strong, is second to her need to love me.  So I guess I see submitting to you as filling in those areas where eM chooses not to be in control, but a manner which is not problematic for you."

"What do you mean as not being problematic for me?"

"Well, several things.  The first time we met and were getting to know each other, you assured me, probably because  not knowing me very well you thought the information would reassure me somehow, that you were very loyal and only dated one person at a time. Since you now have a lover I would not have any chance of being intimate with you in that way. That excites me in two ways:  First, as a cuck, I would never be allowed intercourse with you. Some other man already has rights to your pussy.  It may be a boundary, but of course as a cuck I would love to lick what another man has fucked, but there would be no chance of actually getting to fuck you.  We all know I am not that good at it anyway. That is, after all, what every cuckold wants, to admit to a diminished ability to function as a man.  Other men, alpha men, get to fuck women, but cuckolds do not."

"Wouldn't you rather eM cuckolded you?  Would it be more exciting for her to do it."

"Of course, and in the future she may.  But there are conditions, her conditions, which would have to be met. She would first of all have to have strong feelings for someone.  Not easy to do under the best of circumstances. And she would always be  sensitive to my feelings.  I'm sure, as well as grateful, that if she thought it was harmful, she would stop in a moment.  I do find the idea of her taking a lover she really likes very exciting.  And as I get older I find the idea of another man satisfying her in a way I cannot both humiliating and practical. But with eM and me it is a work in progress.  With you, it is a work completed.  You have someone you already really like, and I am never going to get to fuck you.  And, as eM often admonishes me, men always want what they cannot have. 

If you  remember, after we had dated a few times, and after you expressed an interest in femdom, I did what I always do when given the opportunity commit to someone, I ran away. Several days later you asked if I would stay friends enough to help you learn more about the scene.  Then, after we split up, after you met your current partner, and before I reconnected with eM, I contacted you and at lunch we discussed domestic servitude. Your SO is very conservative and so we discussed ways that I might be able to be submissive to you without jeopardizing your relationship. One thing you said at that meeting, which I find very exciting, was, "I just don't want to have to worry about taking care of you."

"Why was that so exciting?"

"Because while I may or not, I'm not sure, wish to be objectified by a woman all time, I certainly want a place I can go and be an object some of the time. By definition you would not be concerned with my needs, but I would of necessity be concerned with yours.

So, in short, those two statements by you, that you could really get into making a sissy out of me, and that you would like a situation in which you did not have to worry about my needs were, to be a little prosaic, fodder for a lot of stroking."

"So, r, you have spent a lot of time explaining how all this meets your needs. Since you are so interested in "serving" women, how do you see it meeting our needs.?"

I am shuddering with anxiety and the excitement of all this, and I would dearly love some wine. eM, anticipating just how dry my mouth it, offers me her glass with the simple exhortation, "one sip".  When I am finished she says, "Now, don't be rude to our guest. Please continue."

"On the spiritual level, the reason why women would put up with men like me at all is a complete mystery.  But it is the fact they do that makes us adore them in the first place.  On the practical level I see it as a distribution of labor.  eM wishes me to be happy, but she is in charge and may or may not give me permission to indulge my fantasies. But people in the scene to some extent require friends also in the scene.  I know eM really likes you, and I would like to see her as have a friend that she can be open with.  Also, just as airing out linens freshens them and keeps vermin away, allowing me to air, and perhaps act out my fantasies, keeps the sort of erotic vermin that attack relationships away. Hiding from eM the fact that I find submitting to you exciting would be far more destructive, I think,  than the both of you harnessing that fascination.

But although eM does wish me to be happy, there are things that either don't interest her at all, or that life gets in the way of. Loaning me out to you for a day of service frees her from having to "take care of me", to use your phrase."

"And how do you see all this "taking care of me", to use my phrase?"

"You have intimated that some of the things that interest you, sissification, cuckolding, domestic service, are things that you partner is probably too conservative, at least at present, to consider. And even if that were not so, trying to be both loving partner and Mistress to someone is, as eM has found, quite taxing.  I humbly offer you my services to save you that trouble."  It must have been a poor effort at humor because neither eM nor MB are laughing in the least. eM is silent, and MB is serious and business like.  That's a good thing, I think.

"Alright, r, you've explained why you want to oh so selflessly sacrifice yourself for our benefit.  Now tell me exactly how you see this unfolding. And since your perverted little mind thinks about these things far more than ours do, please help us understand by beieng quite specific. You might try doing now what you were instructed to do in the first place, and what you have yet to do. Describe for me, and for eM, a fantasy.  If it helps, we'll be merciful, and allow you to close your eyes.  You can even try to stroke your caged penis, if that helps."

eM quickly chimes in: "Correction, B.  I don't think he should be able to hide behind closed eyes. He can pull on his locked up little clitty if he wants, but he should be looking you in the eyes while he speaks. He wants control, let's give him a little."

"Well, r?  Do continue"

"MB, can I close my eyes please? This is very difficult."

"r, your Mistress gave you specific orders to look at me.  I think she should deal with your insolence later.  But if you can't follow such  a simple order, how in the world do you expect to be of service to me?  Do you want me to dismiss you;  I can say my goodbyes to eM, and leave your life forever.  If you don't want that, then please show us you can do what you are told.  What good are you if you can't do at least that?"

"I'm sorry, eM, sorry M'am." It is at first a struggle to look into someone eyes and tell them embarrassing things, but if one perseveres it can become truly hypnotic. When fantasizing about someone never has to look them in the eye.  It is much more frightening, and much more satisfying to have to look at the person. MB is a very nice lady, and her eyes turn out to be not so frightening after all.

"I know you often have family in the house, but I see times when they are away. At such times you would call eM and tell her you need me to come over for domestic service.  When I get to your house the door would be unlocked and I would go into the basement, "my area" you once called it, since I am not allowed upstairs in your home unless summoned. In the back bedroom you would have laid out the clothes I should change into. We once discussed panties, a tight pencil skirt, a girdle to keep my penis and erections out of the way, and/or pantyhose. All of these are like a second and third skin to bind and control my physical body, and peeing would involve far more than just having to sit down like it does now... But in truth you could have me dress in whatever clothes fed your own fantasy of making me into more of a sissy. Also in the back bedroom would be a list of chores to be done.  Of course I like the thought of washing your underwear, but in reality I am also sure there would be other loads of laundry to be done as well. If not actually working I would have to stay out of your way.  Perhaps just be made to sit straight in a chair while you ignored me.

Sometimes I would fantasize about me coming over on a work day either just before you left for work, or when you came home for lunch. On such days you would dress somewhat severely and would lay out my duties in a very business like fashion. My street clothes and my keys would be locked away so I could not leave before you returned several hours later, either at lunch, or after work.

Upon your return I would have to greet you by kissing your feet (I know women think that is silly, but to a submissive male it is highly erotic.). You would then inspect my work and if things were not done to your satisfaction there would be consequences."

"What sort of consequences would there be, r?" 

"Well, M'am, I have always fantasized about two people being in control of when I am either unlocked, or given any sexual pleasure.  I am hardly ever unlocked now, and relief is confined to being milked, but nonetheless I would like both you and eM to communicate to each other about how I have behaved.  If I displeased you, or her, then either could impose a drought on even the very slight relief I am given now.  I would have to work doubly hard to please, as it were.

Also, I know both of you do like to beat me. I don't mean to embarrass either of you, but you both get wet from whipping a man.  And MB, I know your wrist makes it difficult for you to swing a cane hard, but whips take less effort and eM and I have acquired some lovely ones since you and I were dating.  And you also know that a hairbrush to the testicles takes almost no effort at all. So corporeal punishment as opposed to discipline, which is different, could be administered."

"So is that what you used to stroke your little clitty to, doing my laundry, or vacuuming, or being my maid? I do feel as though you are beating around the bush a little. Pun intended"

"No, M'am.  I also see myself arriving in the morning, for domestic service of course, but also shortly after your SO has left. You would tease me with the fact that you have a "dirty pussy" and that it needs to be cleaned.  It was fucked by a real man of course, but now you need a cuck to clean up after him. I'm not sure where the boundaries are for this in your mind, but in my fantasy I would service you orally and have to clean up after your lover. I would love doing this, not only for eM and her lover, but for you also if you would let me.  At the very least you would tease me about what I cannot have. I would also have to wash the sheets on which you so recently made love. 

I know that part of the reason we are even discussing this is because your lover probably has no interest in the scene.  However, in my fantasy he does, and I would fantasize about having to service him as well. In the throws of passion I have often begged eM to train me well enough that I would service a male at her direction. You could do the same.

When you were not having me do something in particular you would put me away out of sight and ignore me until I was needed.

Other times I would fantasize about you visiting with eM and I would have to serve you both. I also think it would be very erotic to have to attend one of your Ladies Nights',  even more so if, selectively, some of your female friends knew of my situation. There is a lovely line in a book that eM and I are reading which says, "Think of all women as assisting me in dominating you." What a lovely way for a submissive male to look at women. 

So I guess, MB, that, to the extent that I can anticipate what might interest you in all of this, it would be a mixture of a renewed connection to the femdom scene, a cuckold and sissy to control, and no less importantly, two good friends.  I'm not sure what else I can offer.  I hope I didn't offend either you or eM by any of this. But you both did encourage me to be honest and explicit."

"Yes, and thank you r, for being so.  Now, your lovely Mistress and I have much to discuss and so I want to fulfill one of the fantasies you mentioned above.  I want you to go upstairs, put on the blindfold, making sure you cannot see at all, and sit on the edge of the bed.  You will not lie down, nor lean back, but sit very straight, and be very still - rest assured we will be checking from time to time - for however long it takes until we summon you. This will be a test to see if you are even capable of doing what you say you will do.  Now, with eM's permission, you may kiss my feet and go do what I told you to do."

I look over at eM for direction and notice that she is smiling gently. 

"Do what you were told to do, r and wait for us upstairs."

Being obedient has never been so wonderful.