Saved by the Hail Mary

It was Monday Night Football.  My favorite team was playing.  A big divisional game with playoff implications.  To say I was hyper was an understatement.   I take my football seriously, and as the game progressed through the first half, it was turning into a nail biter.  As halftime approached, I was in a bit of a tizzy because my team was down and not looking great.

Now, my boy was due a punishment he had earned himself over the weekend.  After the teams had headed into the tunnels, I turned to him and simply said

“Shall we take care of the punishment now, or wait till after the game?”  Wanting to enjoy my game, but knowing he would most likely fall asleep on me… I gave him the option to pick his poison.

“I’d rather wait till after the game in hopes you’ll be in a better mood.”

“Alright, but if you fall asleep, it will be doubly worse tomorrow night.”

He began chanting for my teams quarterback as  he was lightly pounced.  Leaving him kissed, poked and prodded, I settled back in my seat for the second half.  Barely 15 mins into the restart of the game, his breathing shifted into that steady rhythm that indicates he was falling asleep.  To keep from getting irritated I focused my attention fully on the game, cheering the good plays, pouting over the bad ones.  It wasn’t until my team rattled off a HUGE play that sent me flying off the couch, cheering wildly.  It startled him so badly; he himself woke up and went flying off the couch.  Admittedly, I smiled wickedly inside for the abrupt end to his siesta.

He managed to keep himself awake for the rest of the game.  My team managed to pull out the win in an exciting finish and left me in a great mood.  He took his punishment with grace.  He has no idea how lucky he got. 

As the World Changes

It’s been a couple months since I’ve posted on here.  

Shortly after my last post, I received some rather distressing medical news that sent me reeling.  The kind of news that puts everything else in life, on hold.  All my life, my health had been something I just counted on.  So that day, in the Dr. office, the news sent me on a bit of a tailspin.  I felt perfectly fine and yet I wasn’t.  Treatments began, and I began to feel worse.  The brave face was put on, but life had shifted and I needed time to come to terms with it all.  But time was not on my side.  As the effects of the treatment worsen, I had to finally pull the plug and beg for another course of action.  Thank goodness I did.  As treatments shifted and a new process started, the diagnoses got worse and surgery became the necessary outlet.  With less than a week’s warning, I was under the knife for the first time in my life.

As I sit here recovering, I realize I’m still coming to terms with all that has happened in a short amount of time I’ve had to processes it all.  While the prognosis is positive that life will eventually return to normal, my recovery and post op treatments will likely take well into the New Year to complete.  In the grand scheme of life, this is really a short amount of time; it still feels like an eternity for someone who’s never had to deal with life altering restrictions.

My boy has handled it all with the love and grace I fully expected from him.  He has been a wonderful life line, nurse maid, strong shoulder, errand boy, distraction, entertainment and everything else I’ve needed from him.  He has even managed to be as flexible as possible to feed me pieces of himself when I was capable of taking it.  

Ooops, Missed the Anniversary

Life continues to be full steam ahead and playtime has come to a near screeching halt.  We do find our little moments here and there.  A playful little spank in the kitchen while he does dishes.  A handful of hair as I guide his lips to mine before pouncing him for whatever sex we can find enough energy for.  Though adding in a some recent health issues has slowed even that way down.

In the mists of the chaos, I realized 1 year anniversary of my Blog has come and gone with very little fanfare.  Really pretty typical of me.  Anniversaries just don’t carry much meaning for me.  Kind of like saying YAY.. We made it one year!  When really what’s more important is what’s ahead and where you’re going.  Not that I don’t reminisce or review past experiences.  But attaching a date to when I’m supposed to do this just never resonated with me.

So when it finally occurred to me, I’ve been at this for a while and realized it had been over a year… I had to chuckle at how different my intentions for this blog had been versus where this blog has ended up.

Original, I had thought it would be great to treat it like a journal, sort of the day to day on goings of developing a D/s relationship and my journey towards becoming a Domme.  A way to capture both the good and the bad, as well as highlighting the stark contrasts between the fantasies we create in our heads and the realities of bringing them to life.  Apparently, this was only a fantasy of mine! LOL

What I quickly discovered was that my reality didn’t leave a lot of free time to write on a regular basis.  Between enjoying my boy, enjoying my kinks, raising children, running a household (and a complicated one at that), and working full time in a high pressure job just didn’t leave a lot of downtime.  Add to that, I found it extremely difficult to write about the not so fun stuff that happens and the completely boring day to day stuff.  Instead, I seemed to have gone straight into turning our playtime into fun erotica.  More of a “inside the head of a Domme” approach.  

But maybe, instead of celebrating an anniversary, I thought it would be nice to go back and reminisce about the journey up till now.  Kind of a fun “how did we get here” sort of look.  Especially right now, when there just isn’t much to really talk about going on in our day to day, unless you want the boring run downs of driving here, there and everywhere. 

It really is the thought that counts

The day before had been one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.  How I managed to survive it was nothing short of a miracle, but everyone was finally home and in one piece.   I ended up taking the day off just to deal with the fallout and to let myself properly deal with the stresses.  

 I was up at the butt crack of dawn to get the kids to school, and on my way home I began the debate of whether or not to crawl back into bed and hide from the world.  Nothing bad ever happens in bed! Upon arriving home, I noticed my boy’s car still in the drive way.  So instead of heading straight for bed, I decided to peek out in the garage and spend a little quality time with him before he ran off.  

Much to my surprise, I found my boy standing bare ass naked, spread eagle, with hands on the workbench.  After further inspection, I discovered a chair full of impact toys next to him.  His sheepish face began to smile when I finally turned my face back at him.  Try as I might, I just couldn’t hide the grin forming on my face either.  I regained my composure, but the silliness had already crept it’s way in

“What’s all THIS about?” I ask, waving my hand around, in a voice as sternly as I could muster.

“I needed to cum, Mama”, he mumbled really quick, “and you had such a bad day yesterday, I thought you might enjoy taking your frustrations out on me”

Did you catch that?  Yeah, that first part.  That “I need to cum” part.  You did? Me too.

It’s moments like these I have to giggle at the thought process that runs through my head.  I actually think to myself… “Yeah a proper Domme would probably get mad that he tried so hard to disguise a plea to cum with a cover like being so thoughtful about my bad day.  She’d probably get so upset that he would be so bold and not let him cum at all. Then she’d probably beat him so hard that he’d never dare that one again.  Mmmmm beat him so hard.  I sure could use the outlet that giving him a beating would afford me.  I am so stressed and tense, and it’s such a nice release of aggression for me. Yes, me want beatings.”

My hand had absently wandered down his back and began molesting his butt cheek.  

“But should I let him cum?  It really was such a cheeky move on his part.  He could have done a better job of hiding the fact he was sneaking his own agenda in this whole equation. “

I sneak my hand between his legs, teasing his ass along the way, till I’ve gotten a good grip on his cock and balls.  I begin teasing him about his need to cum.

“But I do enjoy teasing him to death, and he takes beatings so much better when he’s riled up.  Plus its so fun to watch the way he gets so spastic when he cums after so much teasing.  It makes me giggle.  Giggling makes me feel better.  Beatings make me feel better.  Oh, fuck the proper Domme shit…I’m gonna have me some FUN!!!  Wheeeee!”

So I proceeded to beat him, tease him, talk dirty to him, even (to his surprise) threw in some ass play to cap it all off with.  And he came.  He came hard.  So hard I giggled.  And I walked away feeling relaxed, calm, ready to face the tidal wave of the day I was about to have to have.  

This is why I know my boy was made for me.  Any books, stories or threads I read always seems to deal with sexual denial, sexual control (along with all the other stuff).  I don’t want any of that.  I want sexual abandonment.  I would let him cum 5 times a day, if he was capable and we had that kind of time.  He understands this.  He knows, it’s a pretty safe bet, that if he initiates play or sex of some kind, I’m going to happily go along (and very quickly take over!).  So when it comes to times like this, I’m not inclined to get upset, but it’s not that I don’t care nor that I’m timid to correct him… simply that’s it’s ultimately what I want anyway, so I’m not getting worked up over it.  I don’t see it as a brat trying to get his way, but instead a loving submissive who knows this is exactly what kind of poke I needed right then.  One that led to a playful little scene I could relax into and work out my aggressions.  A scene my mind couldn’t slow down for long enough to even imagine, let alone plan.  But I scene I dreadfully needed in the state I was in.  He gets it. 

The Little Things

My blogs been quiet lately, mostly due to a bad case of writers block.  I have a collection of stories and thoughts that all got started, but never finished.  Sadly, I'm chalking it all up to my brain being on overload thanks to work and life, plus very little free time for sex or fun.

Most of our days have been spent waking up at the crack of dawn and racing out the door to get everyone where they need to be.  Working my butt off most of the day, then racing around to pick everyone up, run them to their next spot.  By the time I get home, my only thought is how quick can I get to bed.

Even our free time stayed this crazy.  The boy has been inundated with jobs and has been working long hours just to keep up.  If we even managed to both be home and awake at the same time, we're just too sore and tired to get up to much of anything.

That is until my libido poked her ugly head and demanded some serious attention. 

It always makes me giggle when discussions of needs versus wants come up and so many like to harp that sex is merely a want.  Now, granted, I agree... sex isn't a life or death thing for anyone, including me.  But there's life and death needs, and there's happy, peaceful, enjoying life needs.  Sex definitely falls into the latter for me.  I'm sure it can be explained in a sense of chemical reactions and receptors, but that doesn't really matter much when I can feel myself transform into a snarling, snapping, stand-offish person. A soon as I've had a few really good orgasms, I flip right back to my normal happy self. 

Now considering the last 3 weeks, had been nothing but masturbation and quickies... the monster clawed her way out and reared her ugly head Sunday night.  By Monday morning, the boy was told he was banned for any sexual contact until he was ready to take care of the whole package.  By Tuesday morning, the boy took good care of me and I'm back to smiling again.

It's really all about the little things!

Cuckolding - The Biological Imperative?

During a recent Fetlife thread, an unruly troll came along with the vagrant claims that biologically women were incapable of separating love and sex.  I found the notion a bit absurd, simple because I’ve never had that issue.  I’ve also met a number of women who didn’t have this issue.  While I would agree that on average, women are less likely to separate sex from love, I always inferred this as being more a result of how we were raise.  

I was raise in a household that was primarily male based, in a neighborhood over run with boys.  It was pretty rare that I ever heard the tired notions of how women were meant to behave.  Instead, my parents fostered the ideal that I could be whatever I wanted.  I was treated equally to my brothers.  My brothers never coddled me, rather they forced me to stand up for myself, learn to hold my own, and most importantly to fight my own battles.  So it should be no surprised when I became sexually aware, that I baulked at the ridiculousness of many social norms since they had not been drilled into my head.

But As I read the Troll’s irrational arguments, I became curious… what really was our biological nature?  Spending a bit of time perusing the internet to find factually based studies that pointed towards our true biological nature, I was quite a bit surprised at what I found.  Below was my response…

“To continue my argument though... looking from a purely biological standpoint, Cuckolding IS the optimal solution for a female’s biological nature. We are fundamentally predisposed to desire copulation with genetically superior males in order to ensure survival of our offspring. Yet once the offspring arrives, we are biologically designed to protect them which includes desiring a stable, supportive, dependable mate. Translate to cuckolding... the bull being the superior male, the cuckold being the dependable parent.

From the male prospective, it's practically undisputed that men are biologically designed to spread their seed.  Thus, making them less likely to be monogamous and hinders the females ability to find the dependable, parental mates.  But recent studies have shown strong evidence to suggest that hormonal levels of vasopressin, which can be determined by a specific gene count, actually effects how suitable we are towards monogamy. So in certain males, the assumption would be, their genetic makeup has overridden their biological design, resulting in a stronger desire for a more monogamous role.  These are the males who are more suitable cuckolds.”

What I found interesting with this research is how it seems to better define my views on love and sex.  I also think this is why cuckolding appeals so much to me.  I’ve never been to keen on the traditional views of love and monogamy, though I love the comfort and cuddliness of a solid home filled with love, laughter and familiarity.  But my adventurous side craves the variety and stimulation of a crazy, wild sex life.  The kind that requires a variety of people to experience.  The bonus to cuckolding, versus an open relationship, was the simple knowledge that my boy would always be there when all was said and done.

Now granted, I’m a strong believer that nature and nurture both play a strong role in who we become.  Though when I think on my life and what may have influenced me to this point, it’s hard to find much relevant other than the experiences I choose to put myself in.  So I found it interesting in that, absent of any strong cultural directive in my childhood, that I would resort to what would be seen as the natural biological state for my sexuality.  

In the end, regardless of whether it was nature or nurture that influenced me, I love my life as it is.  I have no regrets, no guilt and certainly no issues with the way I’ve chosen to live my life!