More comfortable

After the events of yesterday I wasn't upset, quite the opposite. Miss H being selfish and bitchy with her masturbation was awesome.  I was really happy to see her act in that manner for two reasons, first for selfish reasons it's just the type of dehumanization, humiliation, and control, that I so deeply crave. Second, every time she pushes our boundaries it makes me feel like she's becoming more comfortable in her role as the Dom in our relationship. FLR is new to both of us and although we've been practicing it for about a year now, it's still in the early stages. We're both on a learning curve so seeing her take any new steps, no matter how small in terms of being aggressive and free with what she wants from our kink is awesome.

With each passing month I can see her becoming more relaxed and at ease. She no longer seems like she's following a scene and worries if she's going "off script". Yesterday was a good example of that. She's probably wanted to just randomly masturbate with a vibrator before and not having me hanging all over her, kissing, touching, and smothering her with affection. In the past she was still the Dom but maybe didn't want to hurt my feelings so she let me in on things even they she may have preferred to be left alone. Now maybe she isn't worried so much about "pissing me off" because she realizes our relationship is so strong and that we truly love each other so very much.

The important thing we're both realizing is that in a clear cut Dom/sub relationship like we have, *she* is in charge. So although I may be dying for vicious abuse and being tied up like the gimp all night, if she just wants a cup of tea and her laundry done then that's how it's going to go. I shouldn't be upset when my every fantasy isn't played out to my liking each night and she shouldn't feel guilty to do what ever it takes to make herself happy and satisfied. To be banished while your significant other pleases herself without you or without any desire to involve you might be a problem in your average vanilla marriage, but Miss H and I have a very special relationship where the abnormal is the new normal. And it works for us, so what's the harm in enjoying ourselves?

Face the wall

This morning Miss H woke me up by placing her hand between my legs and softly stroking me through my panties and pink sissy pajamas. It didn't long for me to pop right awake and begin rubbing, kissing, and doing everything possible in a desperate attempt to try and get my pathetic self off. Miss H was enjoying the attention and cuddling. I've become used to her getting me super excited and turned on only to stop and shoo me away at the peak of my arousal but today was different.

Usually she'll tell me that she's done with me (using any number of derogatory terms and words), then fall back asleep or get up if it's time to go to work. The difference today was that while I was rubbing her clit with my fingers she suddenly pulled away and told me to roll over and face the wall until I was told differently. There was no mention of her stopping for the night so I assumed were going to continue, just with something new. Next I heard her reach into her night stand and pull something out. I erroneously assumed that she was getting out the bottle of lube and she would then begin stroking me to tease me a bit more. She often masturbates me in the spooning position with her pressed up behind me so I was anxiously waiting for my treat.

Much to my dismay and disappointment I was shocked to hear the sound of her vibrator turning on

"May I watch you?", I asked.

"No, just keep looking at the wall. You're not allowed to look at me", she said with clenched teeth as the vibrator began working its magic between her soft thighs.

Anytime Miss H has masturbated with me around in the past it's always been a joint venture. If I wasn't directly pleasuring her pussy I was at least kissing her or playing with her very sensitive nipples. It was never a totally solo thing like it had just become. I felt so left out, unwanted, and yet even more horny then I had been. After about five minutes of sheer torture as I leaked pre-cum listening to her use that buzzing vibrator on herself, she told me I was allowed to rub my sissy clit. I still wasn't allowed to look at her, touch her or in any other way interact with her. I was left pushed off to the side of the bed, staring off at the wall, the glow of my clock radio illuminating  the outline of my hand as it furiously pumped up and down from beneath the sheets. Grunts and groan escaping my lips as I continually caught myself before cumming all over the bed, jonesing for release but relegated to frustration as I could do nothing about it.

"You can play with that little sissy clit for a few more minutes if you want, although I don't know why you'd even bother with something so useless", she muttered as she rolled over and dozed off to sleep soon after having her own orgasm. The feeling of an orgasm something I haven't experienced in over three months, I thought to myself as I lay there awake and unsatisfied yet again.

The hood.

Just a follow up to my previous post about breath play and specifically the inflatable hood Miss H and I own. I said I would try to get some pics of it and here they are. The first is the hood itself in an un-inflated state. Even when it isn't blown up it can be quite intimidating to use. It completely surrounds the head cutting off all sense of sight and smell. The breathing tube fits in the mouth and acts like a gag, preventing pretty much any type of talking and leaves you feeling open and exposed.

You'll have to excuse the lack of shine on it, I didn't get a chance to put any rubber glow or similar polish on it, so it has that dull matte look to it. Anyway, when inflated it gets even worse, because initially the hood feels pretty tight to start with, then as it's being pumped up you can feel it slowly fill up and push back around your face and head, becoming totally form fitting and claustrophobic. If Miss H decides to put ear plugs in, the combination of the plugs and the inflation makes hearing extremely difficult.

The feeling of total sensory deprivation can be intense, especially if kept in the hood for any length of time. The biggest mind fuck is when you're left alone in there. It doesn't take long to kind of drift off to a dream world in your mind as the only stimulation you experience is the feel of the breathing tube in your mouth. The unexpected hand on the tube, blocking off your air or twist of a nipple provides a singular, extreme sensation. You have no other tactile or sensory inputs except that sudden jarring pain or fear. Even the slightest feelings like a hand across your inner thigh become that much more intense.

This particular hood is among my favorite toys, and has been for a long time.

Breath play

In my previous post I made a quick mention of choking Miss H. Up until probably a year ago that wasn't something that even really appealed to me. It was just a thing you heard on TV after somebody took their own auto-erotic asphyxiation play a bit to far.

The first few times Miss H and I played around with choking we both enjoyed it immensely. I totally got off on the power trip of choking her and she was near orgasmic from the head rush and thrill of it all. As time passed and we started to settle into our more comfortable roles of me being the submissive and her the dominant, the choking continued but now it was me on the receiving end of things. At first I was kind of nervous about doing it but that fear quickly subsided as the turn on increased. The feeling of being so helpless and completely under someone else's power is a complete adrenaline rush with a huge dose of sexual excitement thrown in for good measure.

Miss H used to almost exclusively just use her hand around my throat as a means to control my breathing. She would squeeze, I would start to struggle, and eventually she would let go. The only problem is that maintaining a consistent pressure and level of oxygen deprivation can be tough. If I start to thrash around she can loose a good grip and fortunately/unfortunately depending on how you look at it, Miss H doesn't actually want to kill me so she always presses more lightly then she could or I would like. That's probably for the best as I prefer my trachea in an uncrushed state, but still.

We've also used a really wicked looking inflatable hood that I bought at Demask in NYC a few years ago. There aren't any eye holes, nose holes, or mouth opening per se other then a roughly six inch tube that is placed in the mouth and extended outside the hood. I'll take a pic and try to post it later but for now just try to use your imagination. It's a great item and provides for a safer means of breath control (if there is such a thing, talk about an oxymoron) because it only takes a hand over the end of the tube to totally shut off all breathing in an instant. 

More recently however we've moved into something new. Miss H will push my head between her breasts, which are huge, or between her ass or sometimes her pussy and just wrap her arms around it with a death lock preventing me from pulling away. Then she'll sit there calmly and watch as I begin to freak out and desperately try to pull away. She'll do this without warning so some times I have a chance to take a breath before hand, other times not at all. If I have a hand free I'll "tap out" on her thigh when I start to panic as I sign that I can't take much more. I think she really enjoys this because she's never once stopped when I tried signaling her. She always takes things a bit further, makes it a bit scarier, and gets me that much closer to cumming. She lets me free when she wants to, not when it would suit me. The feeling I get from these experiences is amazing. People say they like bondage because it allows them to give up control. Well nothing can compare to giving up control of your breathing.

The first time Miss H let me loose after smothering me between her breasts she was a bit concerned by the fact I was sort of flopping around like a fish and grunting loudly. She thought I was suffering from lack of oxygen and spazzing out to breath once again. In fact, I was struggling to keep myself from cumming all over the place. With even the slightest bit of penis stimulation, the combination of physical and mental turn on is immense and gets me to the edge almost every time. Those first few seconds when your brain goes ballistic with fear from you not being able to breath and you realize that you're not getting another breath until she allows you to is the ultimate in submission.

Power Play

Last night marked a very important yet subtle point in our FLR relationship. It was nothing we had planned for or expected. In fact it appeared at first to be nothing more then one of our usual tease and denial sessions. Miss H had an important meeting at work today so although I've been terribly horny these past few days she mentioned that she needed to get to bed early so if I was lucky she might pay some attention to me for a few minutes before we went to bed. That was more then ok with, any attention from Miss H no matter how brief is a welcome reward, to have her stroke that tiny cock while whispering the most horrible of verbal assaults into my ear is a turn on like few other things to me.

Miss H was gracious enough to allow me to watch the Giants game and we started our wind down as the game was ending, eventually crawling under the covers as the Giants pulled out the victory. She rolled onto her side with her gorgeous ass facing me. Unsure if she was too tired to do anything I just pulled up against her and spooned her, figuring if she wanted more she would initiate, and if not I would at least be able to cuddle up against her as she fell asleep. The slow rhythmic rubbing of her ass against me signaled I was allowed to proceed. I quickly began dry humping her ass like a dog in heat, the slight bit of pleasure I was able to feel from underneath all those clothes was incentive enough to keep going.

She reached her hand back and started rubbing her cock through the outside of my pants. I was so turned on and thrusting against her hand that she soon moved it to my mouth. I was so wet that I had leaked through onto her hand and she pushed her fingers into my mouth to lick it off. The touching and rubbing continued in various incarnations for a while, constantly driving me toward the edge of cumming only to stop short each time. I was getting more and more turned on with each passing minute and she could sense it. My breathing was getting deeper, I was grunting with each stroke, and my hands were rubbing and squeezing her more firmly the longer she went on.

In the past, Miss H had usually been more of a submissive, she was that way with others and early in our relationship we both switched pretty regularly. I was mostly submissive, but occasionally would get an aggressive streak and want to be the Dom. It was only in the last year or so that we both really fell into our current preferences. My innate submissive tendencies have fully come to the surface and Miss H is fully embracing the Dominant role more and more each day.  I mention that only because what happened next called those feelings back to the forefront.

Miss H kept ratcheting up the dirty talk and verbal abuse and I in turn was getting more and more riled up and excited. Miss H is icy calm during this time while I on the other hand am squirming and moaning like a wounded animal. I reach over and grab her should while beginning to kiss her neck. She arcs her neck back slightly to accept my advances and rubs the back of my head while I eagerly kiss her, moving up to her cheek and eventually her lips. She's actively involved but it's only when my hand accidentally ends up around her throat do I hear the first real moan of pleasure from her.
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I hadn't meant to put my hand around her like that, I was simply caressing her face and neck with it while kissing, it was by no means an aggressive act initially and was done without any conscious thought on my part. As I mentioned, earlier in our relationship Miss H loved to be choked and treated roughly, but that was a long time ago so this came as a bit of a shock to me. At first I pulled my hand away as soon as I realized what I had done. I was sure I was about to get in trouble and probably caned for such an act of disrespect. Instead Miss H never broke stride and continued kissing me

We continued making out and rubbing one another for a while before at one point I took the back of her head in my hand to pull her closer so I could kiss her even deeper. It wasn't violent or angry by any means, more of the passionate type kiss you might see in a movie. As my fingers slid into her long hair I could feel her body tense. Miss H used to love having her hair pulled during sex so I ever so slightly made a fist to pull her hair back. Again, I expected a slap to the face or any angry yell if nothing else. I was greeted with a soft moan escaping her lips. I pulled harder and she moaned even more. At this point I was still in total submissive mind set so although you could consider these "Dom" type actions, I didn't look at them as so. I was doing something that made Miss H happy, so if that entailed orally pleasing her, licking her toes, or in this case, roughly pulling her hair, I was doing something for her benefit.

It was obviously getting her turned on to which she responded with an even deeper and more depraved level of verbal abuse, with a fine tuned and razor sharp level of intensity that had me pooling pre-cum, and on the verge of tears. Things began to escalate rapidly, she was adding fuel to my sexual fire and I was only getting more and more amped up. The gentle hair pulling and light grip around her throat were becoming rougher and rougher and yet the more physical I got, the wetter she was. The whole time though she remained surprisingly calm, her slightly quickening breathing and occasional moaning giving her away. 


I'd be lying if I said I wasn't turned on by what was happening though. The sudden feeling of power and control I had was immense. For a split second I thought back to earlier times, before I became a full time chastity slave, when if I wanted sex I would have it. Being in chastity means a never ending series of denials and frustration. Nothing is ever enough. When you're in chastity all you want is to be let out. When you're out all you want is to be touched. When you're touched all you want is some release, even just a ruined orgasm. When you've been allowed a ruined orgasm all you want is a the real thing. It's a cycle of never truly getting what you want, to have to constantly beg and plead for sexual scraps instead of taking what it is you truly want.

"If you were a real man you'd just fucking take what you want and stop screwing around you little sissy bitch", she challenged me with.

It was a typical male ego attack but it worked. All these months of sexual denial came flooding to the for front. Literally growling like an animal I pinned her beneath me, my hand gripping her neck, ready to finally put an end to the unrelenting sexual needs I have. The whole rest of the night was playing through my mind at warp speed, how I would tear her panties off of her body, how her legs would feel wrapped around me as I furiously fucked her deep and hard. The look on her face as she realized she wasn't the dominant bitch she pretended to be.

It was at that moment that she opened her eyes and our gaze locked. It was the first time since we started that our eyes met and we made eye contact. She just smiled slightly with an amused grin on her face and looked at me. She didn't struggle, she didn't scream, she just looked at me.

"Don't you for a even a second think you're actually dominant, that you have any control what so ever in this relationship. You're doing what you're doing because I allow you to. I let you do it so you can pretend for a little while that you're actually a real man, even though we both know that you aren't. Isn't that right?'

And just like that I was done. All of that testosterone induced bravado had been let out like the air from a balloon.

"Yes Mistress", I whispered as I slunk down and moved to a more humble posture, almost in the fetal position with my head resting on her large, warm breasts.

"That's a good girl", is all that I remember her saying after that. She said more but I literally felt almost drunk. I could hear that she was saying something but the words weren't registering, all I could do was hold her tightly. and think about how broken I actually was. What had started out initially as a way to spice up your sex life so very long ago was becoming something much more. Something that both excited and scared me.

Follow up to my previous post.

How appropriate, after writing yesterday's blog entry on the pain and discomfort that is often associated with the modern ideal of how a woman should look, I have a few battle injuries from last night to share with you. Nothing major like black and blue marks from another caning, just some minor scraping on the tip of the penis from an extended bout of dry humping Miss H and some redness on my toe from wearing those platforms for to long. Although is it ever really to long when they're so damn hot and sexy to wear?

Neither is overly life threatening and the prognosis is looking good that I'll be able to pull through these medical emergencies. Your love and support during this trying time is most appreciated ;)

Beauty is pain

What's that old saying, beauty is pain? I find myself believing that more and more with each passing month of dressing. Trying to be sexy is definitely not something that happens quickly or with little effort. Watch virtually any prime time sitcom and you're bound to run across that standard played out joke about the woman taking to long to get ready for a night out while her inpatient boyfriend/husband trudges around the house exasperated at how long it's taking. I've done, and unfortunately, to a degree still do, bitch and moan to Miss H when she's getting ready when we're trying to go out. Which, to be fair, is odd considering how long it takes me to get ready when I get "dressed" myself.

On a purely physical, non-sexual level, I don't necessarily enjoy the various steps that go into "being a woman". Walking in high heels are a pain compared to a pair of comfy running shoes. Makeup during a heatwave in August? Not all that fun. Yet I still eagerly do it because the mental aspect just does it for me on so many other levels. The more restrictive the clothes, the sluttier the look, the more uncomfortable the situation, the more I enjoy it. Part of that is probably because I'm so submissive by nature, it just plays into the whole shut up and take it type mentality I enjoy.  A super tight corset is very much like a pair of tight handcuffs, something that is restrictive and inhibits your natural actions.

On a much deeper level though I think, and I'm doing some self psychoanalysis here, I enjoy the process of transforming from the average guy next door to a slutty whore bitch, of which the careful regime of getting dressed is a huge part. It acts as a gateway from one extreme to the other. Where as a football player might make the switch between a calm educated adult to a quarterback crushing animal by psyching him self up before a game with yelling and screaming, I make the switch by gently sliding on stockings and slipping on a bra. Each has the same effect, you leave your normal comfort zone and enter a mental place you want to be.

I don't want to sound all Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs creepy, or anything, but it really does feel like a transformation when I'm fully dressed and in my proper sub space mentality. Things I wouldn't do or say in my normal vanilla life aren't held back anymore. I'm much more outgoing, open, and less nervous when I'm dressed and serving Miss H. It's such a mental escape valve to blow off negative feelings. No matter what issues I might have to deal with that are bothering me, being able to take a break from them, even if only briefly is a great way to reset me and alleviate an unimaginable amount of stress.

So I guess kinky sex and dressing in particular is kind of my coping mechanism. Probably not the healthiest way to deal with life when things get tough, but it could be worse. I could be an alcoholic, use drugs, or just be an asshole in general, instead I pull on a shiny satin pink sissy dress or lace up some thigh high boots. Doesn't seem so bad in comparison now does it? There's also other options like running (which I do) or meditation (which I've always wanted to try) to keep you sane, but they aren't quite as much fun as dressing like a hooker now are they?