Wear and Tear

I often joke about breaking my toy, but the reality is he’s usually just sore, bruise and simply worn out.  A couple days recovery and he’s good as new.  The truth is I take great care not to truly harm my boy, but sometimes… sometimes… shit just happens.

I had been waiting till New Year’s Eve to break our moratorium on play since the surgery, but he beat me to the punch a couple days before hand.  It’s tough for me to resist that sweet face he puts on when he wants something bad enough and I really wasn’t stuck on breaking the ice on New Year’s.  I mean, it wasn’t like I couldn’t do it all over again two days later.  He squirmed across the couch to cuddle up to me and wiggle his head up under my arm.

“Will you please tie me up mommy?  I thought you might enjoy it down in the basement”

The basement meant only one thing, hanging him from the rafters.  I could feel my engine begin to rev at thought.  I always loved the way it keeps everything in easy reach, him standing there, spread eagle, nothing to block my access from either side.

“Yes, the basement would be nice.  And the swing.  We need to setup the swing.”

The twinkle in his eye was all I needed.  I pushed him up off my lap and jumped off the couch to head down to straighten up the basement.  He was on my heels, like a good boy.

Once the basement was all setup, I sent him off to the showers, while I headed to the bedroom for the toys.  As I opened the first toy box, I could feel my mouth begin to salivate.  Oh how I missed my toys.  I think in my head, I would try to gather them ALL up in my arms to carry down stairs… but reason won out and I began selecting items to use as the plan began forming in my head.

“Oh… the paddle ball paddle.  I’m so glad he held on to it. We’ll have to experiment with this one.”

“My new flogger!  My pretty purple flogger.  You’re gathering way too much dust these days.  Though I think you’re too long for the basement.  Hmmmm.  Eh, I’ll take you anyway. “

“But my crop… yes my crop would work VERY well in the basement.  He’s gonna think he’s in for the beating of his life. Bwahahaha”  (yes readers, I do make this very noise in my head!)

The basket slowly began to fill with toys.  Way more than I would ever need.  But with my head… I’ve learned, it’s never too much.

The rest of the night gets more hazy.  I remember sitting on the chair, he was kneeled before me, kissing up my leg with wild abandon.  Then his arms tied to the rafters, spread open wide.  He’s legs too, the spreader bar in place.  That bar was held steady by the ball stretcher, attached by a chain that makes a lovely noise when it wiggles.  Then I was at his side, butt plug fully entrenched in his cute little ass and my hand wrapped tightly around his cock.  I remember really enjoying the paddle ball paddle immensely, but thinking I’d have more fun with him in other positions… so we’ll play with this later.  And as I turned to put the paddle down, I heard the most horrific “CLANCK”.  I turned to see him slumped in the chains.  And just as I turned, an even louder snap and I watched him begin to drop.  I stepped to get in behind him in order to break his fall, but instead of falling backwards, he just slumped straight down.  He crashed hard on his butt and I caught him as he began rolling backwards to keep his head from smashing into the concrete floor.  

The rest of the night is just a blur of me waking him up, assessing the damage, dealing with the pain once it kicked in and getting him warm on the concrete floor once it was apparent that we were gonna be down there for a while.  The final diagnosis was a sprained knee.   He’s healing up, though slower than he would like and I’m constantly slowing him down so nature can do its course.  But it does serve as a reminder of the risks we run, living this way… even when you are careful.  We take good care of our equipment and though the cuffs were a bit old, they showed no signs of wear and tear.  No reason to believe they wouldn’t hold like they had many times before.  Hindsight, we should have replaced them sooner.  

 But it’s so much easier to look back… isn’t it?

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. 

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. 

Happy Birthday

I awoke this morning to a bedroom covered in rose petals and breakfast in bed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

He lies down beside me, ass in perfect reach.  Fully exposed for my enjoyment.  Playful little smacks between bites.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

My new paddle, his dreaded nemesis, is tucked into the tray.  I smile and, without hesitation, give his ass a few swacks. He stifles the moans.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

My birthday card is a tribute to the hamster dance.  I laugh hysterically as he begins dancing his ass to the silly tune.  I’m in such a good mood I land several more swacks with the paddle and I’m laughing so hard I’m about to spill my tray.  

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I send him off to take the tray away and get the toys ready.  I sit and ponder all the possibilities.  It’s so tough to pick one or two or six… oh wait, have only 2.5 hours.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I beat, probe, kiss, suck, lick, swat, smack and fuck to my heart’s content.  He wiggles, moans, screams, pants, bucks and collapses from sheer exhaustion.

HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO ME!

PS: yeah, the boy is forgiven for passing out last night. 

Fetish or Obsession?

Ever wonder what the difference was?  Is there even a difference?  It’s a fun little banter between the boy and I.  He’s obsession with my feet.  The foot porn entry?  It’s what really happens, what goes on here in the household.  But the pounce?  It’s not him dropping to his knees to kiss or lick or worship my feet in any way.  He is obsessed with tickling my feet, which coincidentally are extremely ticklish.  He is so completely enamored with the way it makes me laugh.  It’s not my feet that turn him on, but my laughter, reactions, and the end result that drive him mad.  Somehow it nearly always leads to some tussling match between us, which ends with me putting him back in his place.  This isn’t a once in a while thing either.  It’s nearly daily.  Matters just get worse if my toe nails are freshly painted.  “Like painting a bull’s-eye on them”, he claims.  Clearly an obsession. 

So why don’t I stop the behavior?  It’s his face.  His emotions will play across his face almost in a cartoon fashion.  The giddiness when he spots them.  Stealing glances like a kid trying not to get caught staring at a cookie jar.  The mischievous look when he tries to slowly sneak a hand over to get a hold of them.  The guilty look that flashes right before he feigns innocence when he is caught.  Then that final look of determination, punishment be damn, when he can’t stand it all any longer and he pounces.  In a way, it’s a type of foreplay we can do regardless of who is around.

But that’s just it.  If kids are not around or sound asleep, this will often result in sex.  Fun, steamy, sexy sex.  All from tickling my feet.  So even though my feet don’t actually turn him on like they would a person with a foot fetish, I have no doubt the resulting fun and silliness does.  You might say he has a tickling fetish, as I’m ticklish everywhere and he will tickle all over, but the obsession is with tickling my feet.  So is it a fetish at all?  A foot-tickling fetish? LOL

Who knows, but it does make life interesting around here.

Foot Porn

I sit on the recliner, my feet propped up and on full display.  You sit across the couch watching TV.  Crossed at the ankles, the toes begin to slightly rub against each other.  Their bright red toe nails tenderly caressing each other as I type on the laptop.  Out of the corner of my eye I catch you staring, that small, half grin of desire crossing your face.  I giggle inside.  Interlocking toes, one foot curls under the other in that cute pose that drives you crazy.  This time I turn my head and look at you as you quickly duck your head and turn a light shade of pink.  

“Are you staring at my toes again”

You shrug sheepishly, stretching out your arms to indicate that you just can’t help yourself when they’re out there like that.  To which I reply by simply rubbing one foot up and down my bare leg.  Glaring at you with that evil smile as if to say “I dare you”.  You smile at me, but back down for now.

Some time passes by, I’ve curled my feet up next to me.  You watch closely to see if I’m absorbed enough in whatever I’m doing, hoping to catch a moment I’m not paying close enough attention.  Your hand sneaks out across the couch.  Slowly your hand creeps till it’s with inches of my foot when…

“SMACK”

 You quickly withdrawal your hand, sulking at your failed attempt. 

Now it’d my turn to grin, that wicked grin that knows exactly how this will end.  A few more failed attempts as I watch the sulking slowly turn into determinations until finally…

You pounce!

Just call me the hit and run.

I'm a terrible blogger, I know.  When life gets busy, my writing brain seems to switch off and nothing sounds right.  I contemplating stopping, but decided it would still be a nice repository for my journey in the lifestyle.  So frequent or sporadic, whose knows.  Reliably, doubtful.  But the updates will come.

Suffice it to say, the last few weeks have been painfully vanilla.  Between work, end of school activities, sports tournaments, an illness and an injury, we just didn't have time to keep up with contacts.. which made filling in the brief free moments impossible.  Some mild play with just the two of us is about all we had the energy to muster up. 

Though a note to point out was that he did manage to break a promise to me.  No, not a big earth shattering promise.  Really, by itself, would have been something I would have treated lightly.  A quick punishment, a bit of a penance to my benefit and all would have been forgiven.  But this time, this time it smacked more of laziness then necessity.  That is what really set me off.  While that evening I opted to keep my cool so we could still manage to have a little fun before our free time ran out, the next morning he took the roughest beating of his life.  The really not fun kind, that makes him withdrawal a little and seriously think about what I said.

He has been spending the weekend in penance for his transgressions.  I do have to admit, he has been the most wonderful boy imaginable.  His bratty side has been on lock down since Friday morning and he has obeyed every order with the attention and enthusiasm the I wanted.  Admittedly, I do miss some of his playful behavior.  Enough to know this isn't something I want day to day.  I really do love the way we operate daily, but it's nice to know when I feel like it, switching him to this level is easy and nearly seamlessly.  The fact he can stay this way for extended periods of time at my demands is delicious!

In the pokey

“How could you poke with any expectation that I won’t stir?”

“But, I can’t help it.  It’s purely impulse”

“Oh I get that.  You have to poke and I have no desire to break that habit.  It’s the begging for mercy after poking that is in question.”

“how so?”

“It’s counter-intuitive.  You poke me in order TO make me stir and yet, you don’t really want me to stir… so then why poke me in the first place?”

You pause for a moment, trying to calculate your way out of it.  Yet all you managed was a sheepish “because I need to?!”

I laugh rather loudly.  “I wonder if those impulses could be better controlled if you had to pay the price more often.”

With eyes wide in shock, you whine “But I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I?”

“Yes, yes” I say reassuringly.  “Yes, you’ve been a very good boy.  I’ve been very happy with you these past few weeks…

but it would be a very fun experiment!”