It is a new morning, and I have tried to start it right, being more submissive. Fixing coffee and breakfast for my Keyholder. Kneeling, holding the tray for her while she eats, and having her leftovers. kissing her feet, bowing before her, trying to take my maintenance caning without flinching. Submission is like a string inside; the more she pulls, the more I give. I only wait for her to pull. I crave it.
My new chastity regimen is (for now) outside the cage, but no touching at all. Only she is allowed to touch my cock. I will only feel pleasure and sensation at her hands. Already, I miss her.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
At my Keyholder's Mercy
I write this under the promise that my Keyholder made to me: that she was going to be more strict with my chastity. Last night I pleasured her for a good hour plus, an hour of service and frustration, but also pleasure, specially the pleasure of watching her find satisfaction. I went to bed tired, frustrated, but happy also. Odd, that mix. As I write this tonight, wearing suction "nipple screws", I try and think what more stringent chastity would entail. It's already been pretty strict, I think...but I know my Keyholder always pushes my boundaries--and my buttons.She has made me promise that I will be more submissive. I'm sure she has the keys at her disposal to do that.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Long day
Today was a long day, with much work that had to be done. I'd been putting off some planting and gardening, and I knew my Keyholder would not stand for another day of delay. So, to the nursery for plants, and to the garden. It was actually a perfect day for it, and I had to remind myself to enjoy the time. Normally, my idea of gardening is run a lawnmower over everything under six inches, and everything over gets to live and grow wild. It was nice to get my hands dirty, and toil in the earth. The only thing missing was my Keyholder. It would have been nice to have her there, sipping iced tea and watching. I know she enjoys menial labor (rather, having me do menial labor); there is a monastic aestheticism that she enjoys (as do I, once I get in the headspace).
A word about the belt: it tended to get in the way today. Riding a bike earlier in the morning: rubbing. Bending and picking stuff up, etc. whilst wearing jeans: my movements had to be measured. The belt decreases the freedom in certain movements, with certain clothes. Move the wrong way, and you squash Lefty, and your neighbors wonder why your are holding your groin for no apparent reason.
After a long day in the garden, and with everything looking better if not great, I still had to do my training. Training today consisted of moderate weights (make no mistake, its' moderate in name only--it wears me out). I had to push and will myself to do it. Again, the thought of telling my Keyholder that I failed to do this was a motivator; it was easier simply to do it.
So now, I am done with my tasks for the day. Onto writing, and relaxing, and a good book later.
I await my Keyholder's return...
A word about the belt: it tended to get in the way today. Riding a bike earlier in the morning: rubbing. Bending and picking stuff up, etc. whilst wearing jeans: my movements had to be measured. The belt decreases the freedom in certain movements, with certain clothes. Move the wrong way, and you squash Lefty, and your neighbors wonder why your are holding your groin for no apparent reason.
After a long day in the garden, and with everything looking better if not great, I still had to do my training. Training today consisted of moderate weights (make no mistake, its' moderate in name only--it wears me out). I had to push and will myself to do it. Again, the thought of telling my Keyholder that I failed to do this was a motivator; it was easier simply to do it.
So now, I am done with my tasks for the day. Onto writing, and relaxing, and a good book later.
I await my Keyholder's return...
Friday, January 25, 2013
The Bite of the Cane
I had some punishment/correction incoming for failure to clean the boots, if you remember from my last post. I also have been less than snappy in my responses, lately. Lethargy, plus sloppiness equals cane strokes. Thirty of them, to be exact.
So, nose pressed to the wall, I attempted to take them stoically. In my mind, I always stand up straight, grunt like a man, and take them like Spartacus. In reality, I'm often whimpering by the fifth one, and squirming around by the sixth. To get to thirty really took some willpower. When it was done, there was atonement and submission, not bad things.
Caning is a funny thing. Well, not funny when it is happening. I have a true love/hate relationship with the cane. I hate the sting, the burning kiss it leaves. But, I love the lingering afterglow, and the headspace that it puts me in. This morning, I received my ten "maintenance" strokes, just-because strokes to remind me of my position. My bum is still glowing as I sit and write this hours later.
I am also back in the cage. I have mixed feelings. I have enjoyed the week-plus of freedom, and the thought of the long road ahead is daunting. I know there will be highs, but there will be lows as well. I'll be reporting on both, here.
So, nose pressed to the wall, I attempted to take them stoically. In my mind, I always stand up straight, grunt like a man, and take them like Spartacus. In reality, I'm often whimpering by the fifth one, and squirming around by the sixth. To get to thirty really took some willpower. When it was done, there was atonement and submission, not bad things.
Caning is a funny thing. Well, not funny when it is happening. I have a true love/hate relationship with the cane. I hate the sting, the burning kiss it leaves. But, I love the lingering afterglow, and the headspace that it puts me in. This morning, I received my ten "maintenance" strokes, just-because strokes to remind me of my position. My bum is still glowing as I sit and write this hours later.
I am also back in the cage. I have mixed feelings. I have enjoyed the week-plus of freedom, and the thought of the long road ahead is daunting. I know there will be highs, but there will be lows as well. I'll be reporting on both, here.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Boots
It's been a week of freedom. Freedom, in my case, means not wearing the cage. My pleasure still belongs to my Keyholder. It is hard to decide which I like better. The cage is a constant reminder of her, though I hardly need one. On the down side, it is sometimes uncomfortable and interrupts my sleep most nights. Being "free" is nice; it is nice for the ol' kibble & bits to have a break. But, sometimes my comport is less than stellar. This was proven a couple of nights ago.
"Clean my boots," she said. I did, wiping them down, doing what I thought was a good job quickly. I was inattentive. The next day, she left them out for me to clean again. I saw what I'd done wrong--the heels and soles still had dirt on them. Quite a bit, actually. Completely unacceptable job under any standards.
I re-cleaned them until they were spotless. I know there is a correction there coming, at some point. I have to wonder if I'd been in full-on chastity, if I would have been so inattentive....
"Clean my boots," she said. I did, wiping them down, doing what I thought was a good job quickly. I was inattentive. The next day, she left them out for me to clean again. I saw what I'd done wrong--the heels and soles still had dirt on them. Quite a bit, actually. Completely unacceptable job under any standards.
I re-cleaned them until they were spotless. I know there is a correction there coming, at some point. I have to wonder if I'd been in full-on chastity, if I would have been so inattentive....
Thursday, January 17, 2013
The Day
Two months it has been. Two months of withholding my pleasure and focusing on her. Two months of near-constant imprisonment of my manhood, and two months of chastity to her. A very good two months. Last night, it was the time -- the day she allowed me release. She edged me for nearly an hour, which was heaven enough. Her feel, the pleasure I (hopefully) gave her, dancing on that edge of self-control, her-control, and my body's limits, was delicious. But, I was nearing the end of my endurance. I think she sensed this also. So, she had decided it was the night. Frankly, I didn't expect it. She timed it perfectly, keeping me on the edge until she was ready as well. When my orgasm came, I barely remembered what they felt like. It was world-shattering--a concussive wave of pleasure that bounced up and down and through my body for minutes. I have never had an orgasm that good. But, more than that, even, was being able to please her, to show her the pleasure she deserved. To squeeze her tight and try to meld into one....
In all honesty, I would have given even that mind-blowing pleasure up to be a better servant to her, to please her more. But I think that what she did brought her pleasure, and for that I am grateful.
I was of mixed feelings afterwards (way afterwards, after the echos of those waves had died down). I don't think it will be as long a road to get back into "chastity" mode. I do feel some of the wind has been taken out of my sails, but I hope to get my energy and strength back to be the best servant I can be for her.
Keyholden, for Keyholder
In all honesty, I would have given even that mind-blowing pleasure up to be a better servant to her, to please her more. But I think that what she did brought her pleasure, and for that I am grateful.
I was of mixed feelings afterwards (way afterwards, after the echos of those waves had died down). I don't think it will be as long a road to get back into "chastity" mode. I do feel some of the wind has been taken out of my sails, but I hope to get my energy and strength back to be the best servant I can be for her.
Keyholden, for Keyholder
Distance
I'm far from my Keyholder, yet her grip on me remains tight.
I've been travelling, with a plastic lock in place of her steel one. I prefer
the steel, the finality of the lock, the key on her keychain. My chastity,
though, is not about my preferences. It is about hers. Truth is, I miss
her tremendously. I long for her teasing. Without it, I am just chaste
and disinterested. With her teasing, with her presence, I am in constant
reminder of what I am missing--and what I am giving to her. So, I await
my return, having logged more miles and more time in chastity. What I look
forward to is that the extra week I've been without her will make my
desire and love all the stronger.
Hers,
Keyholden
Monday, January 7, 2013
On Honor
I've done chastity on the "honor system", and locked in a belt. But, at the end of the day, it's all based on honor.
I don't understand men that get belted then try to escape, to cheat. The fact is, no chastity device is foolproof, none is inescapable or, more accurately, non-orgasmable (is that a word? It is now.) With a CB-6000, it is relatively easy for some men to "pull out". Even locked on, one could, after a time, achieve a somewhat painful orgasm. No, nothing short of constant supervision would guarantee fidelity. This is where honor comes in.
Chastity is, foremost, about honoring your keyholder. About putting her needs and desires before your own. It is a state of mind, an expression of servitude. And, it (chastity) helps you in this. The frustration gives you the energy and fuel to please her. But it is always your choice to make. Sure, you can "cheat," but why would you? Why dishonor your lady in that way?
When I look at my Keyholder's necklace, I am reminded that she holds me close to her heart. I must strive to live up to this honored position, and give her all she wants and desires. It is an honor to be in her service.
I don't understand men that get belted then try to escape, to cheat. The fact is, no chastity device is foolproof, none is inescapable or, more accurately, non-orgasmable (is that a word? It is now.) With a CB-6000, it is relatively easy for some men to "pull out". Even locked on, one could, after a time, achieve a somewhat painful orgasm. No, nothing short of constant supervision would guarantee fidelity. This is where honor comes in.
Chastity is, foremost, about honoring your keyholder. About putting her needs and desires before your own. It is a state of mind, an expression of servitude. And, it (chastity) helps you in this. The frustration gives you the energy and fuel to please her. But it is always your choice to make. Sure, you can "cheat," but why would you? Why dishonor your lady in that way?
When I look at my Keyholder's necklace, I am reminded that she holds me close to her heart. I must strive to live up to this honored position, and give her all she wants and desires. It is an honor to be in her service.
Apart
Being away from my Keyholder is difficult. I wish I could spend the day at her side, kneeling, fetching, serving, servicing. But, I still have things to do. Lately, she has been giving me schedules, lists. Organizing my life for me. It used to be that a little part of me resented these--they were an imposition on my time, after all. Now that I belong to her, I increasingly do not think of it as my time at all, but her time. It is her time to do with as she pleases. To do with me as she pleases. Never is this more evident than when we are apart.
The cage is a constant reminder of ownership. Yesterday, I smiled when I received a list of things to do. I went down the list, and managed most of them. I reported back, and she was understanding as to the one that I missed. I think that is the key to this relationship--understanding. It may be a nice fantasy to have a mistress set unreachable goals and then have her berate and punish you, but this would get old quickly. My Keyholder is understanding, mindful of my time, mindful of my requests, yet holds me to my tasks. Even now, just thinking about her makes me want to fall at her feet and kiss them. My cage is reminding me, strongly, of who holds the key. And I feel fortunate to have that be her.
The cage is a constant reminder of ownership. Yesterday, I smiled when I received a list of things to do. I went down the list, and managed most of them. I reported back, and she was understanding as to the one that I missed. I think that is the key to this relationship--understanding. It may be a nice fantasy to have a mistress set unreachable goals and then have her berate and punish you, but this would get old quickly. My Keyholder is understanding, mindful of my time, mindful of my requests, yet holds me to my tasks. Even now, just thinking about her makes me want to fall at her feet and kiss them. My cage is reminding me, strongly, of who holds the key. And I feel fortunate to have that be her.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Morning
What a great morning it was. I awoke in my Keyholder's arms, stroking her body, pleasuring her. Touching her is incomparable in this state I'm in. She teased me. That is a short description of having her take me right to the edge and ride me there for minutes. It is pleasure and frustration rolled into one.
I got up and made her coffee, and came back and presented it to her (kneeling, head bowed, hands raised above my head in offering). She took it and sat up in bed, then invited me to pleasure her. Heaven. I kissed and licked, thankful to be in that most intimate of places. I felt at that moment that I could stay there all day. Her scent was driving me wild with pleasure and desire. When she tired of my ministrations, he laid at her side and caressed and massaged her while she shuddered herself to orgasm. I humped her leg unconsciously, and enjoyed her orgasm. After, I spent a long time caressing her, touching her, kissing her everywhere. In my current state, a month and a half without orgasm, every touch of her brings pleasure. She is so beautiful. She is such an expert tease, taking me perilously close to the edge, but never allowing me release. Her touch on my nipples sends me into ecstasies. All I want to do is please her, to stay in this state of continual willing servitude. The day is young....
I got up and made her coffee, and came back and presented it to her (kneeling, head bowed, hands raised above my head in offering). She took it and sat up in bed, then invited me to pleasure her. Heaven. I kissed and licked, thankful to be in that most intimate of places. I felt at that moment that I could stay there all day. Her scent was driving me wild with pleasure and desire. When she tired of my ministrations, he laid at her side and caressed and massaged her while she shuddered herself to orgasm. I humped her leg unconsciously, and enjoyed her orgasm. After, I spent a long time caressing her, touching her, kissing her everywhere. In my current state, a month and a half without orgasm, every touch of her brings pleasure. She is so beautiful. She is such an expert tease, taking me perilously close to the edge, but never allowing me release. Her touch on my nipples sends me into ecstasies. All I want to do is please her, to stay in this state of continual willing servitude. The day is young....
Choices
We all have choices. Mine is to obey, or not obey. This week, I disobeyed twice, both of them dealing with time. Slippery thing, time. One, I was late to my Keyholder's tasks. Twenty minutes late. Two, I was out socializing thirty minutes longer than I was allotted. Fifty minutes altogether of disobeying. My Keyholder had promised me punishment for these, and for a couple of days I nervously awaited her judgment. She gave me a choice: fifty (50) strokes with the cane, or fifty minutes kneeling against the wall, being ignored. Choices.
I thought about it. My maintenance caning is ten strokes, and those are hard enough to take, specially when they are harder strokes. Fifty in a row would be difficult, but it would be over quick. Kneeling, being ignored, for fifty minutes can be difficult. My Keyholder always teaches me to go the extra mile. My first choice was to let her choose, but she had asked me to choose. I weighed it, and chose -- both.
My Keyholder was kind enough to split the caning up: ten strokes every ten minutes. For a day I thought about it, and today the day finally came for the punishment. My Keyholder led me to the wall and had me get in position: kneeling, body straight up, nose against the wall, hands at my side. The kneeling was not kneeling on soft fluffy carpet, but on hard floor. More on this later. As an added torment, my Keyholder put a rod of bamboo at my shins. It would be difficult, I could tell. Then, the caning began. Ten strokes, not too bad, at first. I counted and promised to obey my Keyholder at every stroke. Then she left me to think for ten minutes.
How long is ten minutes? How many breaths? How many thoughts? How many shifts of balance to try in vain to get comfortable? The bamboo at my shins discouraged too much shifting. I found the least uncomfortable balance point, and tried to stay with it. The first ten minutes were long. After what seemed like a long time, I heard her coming again. This time, the ten strokes were harder, or seemed harder. I tried to bear them stoically, and dutifully counted out. She left me in my discomfort. The next ten minutes were difficult. The kneeling was beginning to take its toll, the rod digging in, the shifting painful. I focused on breathing and tried to bear it. She came back quicker, it seemed. Time was flowing in fits and starts. Little moments of pain that lasted forever, and vast fast-forwards past swaths of discomfort. The next ten strokes were the hardest to take. Each stroke set me slightly off balance and my shins and knees protested. Again, I was left to ponder my disobedience. I whispered that I would obey my Keyholder, over and over. Ten more minutes, ten difficult minutes. I almost fell over trying to shift. At last I settled, breathed, tried to process it. Tried to detach.
Another ten minutes. Ten more strokes. I almost welcomed them, now. Each stroke meant getting closer to the end. Each cane stroke released much-needed endorphins. It hurt, but the kneeling was worse. Then, I focused on breathing even more, on willing the reality of what was happening to be different. I imagined myself lifting myself up, becoming lighter, and this amazingly helped. Maybe I did lift myself off the cruel bamboo, hovering above it, yogi-like. I thought of many things. Ten more minutes. The next strokes would be the last. I thought of how this was a trifle compared to real tortures. It made it easier to bear, for a bit, then I fell back into myself and whined. "No whining," she called out from around the corner. I gritted my teeth and became silent. At last, she came around for my last ten strokes, which I welcomed. Plus one, for an infraction that morning. But, I still had ten more minutes of kneeling. Ten very difficult minutes, which took forever and passed in no time.
"Time's up," she said. She called for me, but I could not move. I needed her help, and she did help me. Then I fell at her feet and kissed her and thanked her. She seemed upset at having to punish me, and I reassured her that it was okay. I welcomed her corrections. I don't enjoy them, but I welcome them. It made me a better servant. The corrections are worth it.
Now, next time I have a choice, I will think of the cost of it, of kneeling against that wall. And I will choose to obey.
I thought about it. My maintenance caning is ten strokes, and those are hard enough to take, specially when they are harder strokes. Fifty in a row would be difficult, but it would be over quick. Kneeling, being ignored, for fifty minutes can be difficult. My Keyholder always teaches me to go the extra mile. My first choice was to let her choose, but she had asked me to choose. I weighed it, and chose -- both.
My Keyholder was kind enough to split the caning up: ten strokes every ten minutes. For a day I thought about it, and today the day finally came for the punishment. My Keyholder led me to the wall and had me get in position: kneeling, body straight up, nose against the wall, hands at my side. The kneeling was not kneeling on soft fluffy carpet, but on hard floor. More on this later. As an added torment, my Keyholder put a rod of bamboo at my shins. It would be difficult, I could tell. Then, the caning began. Ten strokes, not too bad, at first. I counted and promised to obey my Keyholder at every stroke. Then she left me to think for ten minutes.
How long is ten minutes? How many breaths? How many thoughts? How many shifts of balance to try in vain to get comfortable? The bamboo at my shins discouraged too much shifting. I found the least uncomfortable balance point, and tried to stay with it. The first ten minutes were long. After what seemed like a long time, I heard her coming again. This time, the ten strokes were harder, or seemed harder. I tried to bear them stoically, and dutifully counted out. She left me in my discomfort. The next ten minutes were difficult. The kneeling was beginning to take its toll, the rod digging in, the shifting painful. I focused on breathing and tried to bear it. She came back quicker, it seemed. Time was flowing in fits and starts. Little moments of pain that lasted forever, and vast fast-forwards past swaths of discomfort. The next ten strokes were the hardest to take. Each stroke set me slightly off balance and my shins and knees protested. Again, I was left to ponder my disobedience. I whispered that I would obey my Keyholder, over and over. Ten more minutes, ten difficult minutes. I almost fell over trying to shift. At last I settled, breathed, tried to process it. Tried to detach.
Another ten minutes. Ten more strokes. I almost welcomed them, now. Each stroke meant getting closer to the end. Each cane stroke released much-needed endorphins. It hurt, but the kneeling was worse. Then, I focused on breathing even more, on willing the reality of what was happening to be different. I imagined myself lifting myself up, becoming lighter, and this amazingly helped. Maybe I did lift myself off the cruel bamboo, hovering above it, yogi-like. I thought of many things. Ten more minutes. The next strokes would be the last. I thought of how this was a trifle compared to real tortures. It made it easier to bear, for a bit, then I fell back into myself and whined. "No whining," she called out from around the corner. I gritted my teeth and became silent. At last, she came around for my last ten strokes, which I welcomed. Plus one, for an infraction that morning. But, I still had ten more minutes of kneeling. Ten very difficult minutes, which took forever and passed in no time.
"Time's up," she said. She called for me, but I could not move. I needed her help, and she did help me. Then I fell at her feet and kissed her and thanked her. She seemed upset at having to punish me, and I reassured her that it was okay. I welcomed her corrections. I don't enjoy them, but I welcome them. It made me a better servant. The corrections are worth it.
Now, next time I have a choice, I will think of the cost of it, of kneeling against that wall. And I will choose to obey.
Friday, January 4, 2013
The two kinds of Chastity
I'm sure there are more than two, but it is voluntary versus locked that I want to talk about today.
The headspace is completely different, I've found. My Keyholder and I had done voluntary chastity. By voluntary, I mean that she controlled my orgasm, but I was "free" as far as any device. Erections were common, and pleasant, and frustrating. I was completely on the honor system (though I think it is all honor system, no matter what--more on this later). The headspace in this voluntary chastity was of a very erotic nature. Fantasies were common, and enjoyable. I would think about sex often, and look at erotic images and read erotic writing. Though this only added to the frustration, it did so in a pleasant way.
Now that I am in a device, my thinking is different. Erections are futile at best, and painful at worst. This has curtailed my fantasy life. Oh, I still think of my Keyholder, and often. Even writing this blog as an act of service excites me. I allow myself a time to think about pleasuring her, but it is more concentrated, as the time before it becomes physically uncomfortable is short. I find myself trying to self-control myself more, to steer my thoughts away from sex to other things. It is a chastity of the mind. Being with my Keyholder is another matter. It is worth any amount of discomfort to please her, to be with her. Often, she lets me loose in her presence, which only reinforces my desire to see her. The frustration that comes from being locked is different. It is more of a "sensory deprivation" frustration, as the poor little guy locked inside is mostly bereft of touch. There is a social deprivation as well. Dating is not really an option. I am my Keyholder's. She holds my Key. Every day I travel further in submission to her. Having my cock locked away is, short of a welded-on collar, the deepest symbol of submission to my Keyholder that I can give. And I freely give this, and more....
The headspace is completely different, I've found. My Keyholder and I had done voluntary chastity. By voluntary, I mean that she controlled my orgasm, but I was "free" as far as any device. Erections were common, and pleasant, and frustrating. I was completely on the honor system (though I think it is all honor system, no matter what--more on this later). The headspace in this voluntary chastity was of a very erotic nature. Fantasies were common, and enjoyable. I would think about sex often, and look at erotic images and read erotic writing. Though this only added to the frustration, it did so in a pleasant way.
Now that I am in a device, my thinking is different. Erections are futile at best, and painful at worst. This has curtailed my fantasy life. Oh, I still think of my Keyholder, and often. Even writing this blog as an act of service excites me. I allow myself a time to think about pleasuring her, but it is more concentrated, as the time before it becomes physically uncomfortable is short. I find myself trying to self-control myself more, to steer my thoughts away from sex to other things. It is a chastity of the mind. Being with my Keyholder is another matter. It is worth any amount of discomfort to please her, to be with her. Often, she lets me loose in her presence, which only reinforces my desire to see her. The frustration that comes from being locked is different. It is more of a "sensory deprivation" frustration, as the poor little guy locked inside is mostly bereft of touch. There is a social deprivation as well. Dating is not really an option. I am my Keyholder's. She holds my Key. Every day I travel further in submission to her. Having my cock locked away is, short of a welded-on collar, the deepest symbol of submission to my Keyholder that I can give. And I freely give this, and more....
Thursday, January 3, 2013
A day of service
Yesterday I had a day of service to my Keyholder. It started off badly--I arrived late. It had been a hectic morning, but still that is no excuse. I was promised a punishment, which is still hanging over my head. I will try and bear it stoically, whatever it may be, for I fully deserve it.
The day was spent cooking and cleaning her house. Deep cleaning...baseboards, windows, hands and knees on floor, scrubbing toilets. I had plenty of quiet time to think while I did these things. Why would I, a professional with many many things to do, spend hours doing this menial labor? The first – and easy – answer is because my Keyholder wants it. That is enough. The second, harder answer is sacrifice, I think. I don't particularly enjoy scrubbing floors, though it is necessary and I do get satisfaction from it. But, I think there is a greater satisfaction in the exchange of the whole thing. What I mean is this: I give up my time I'd rather spend drinking at the pub, and do this service for my Keyholder. I give up one of my desires in exchange of one of her own. She is benefited by a clean floor and the satisfaction of an obedient slave (I hope; I cannot speak to the keyholder's mentality), and I am benefited by serving a beautiful woman, by (hopefully) pleasing her with a job well done (or, at least, done) and growing in my servitude. Gathering a little humility on the way does not hurt, either. We all need more humility, and scrubbing a toilet is one sure way of getting it.
I was well-rewarded with a meal and a movie, and getting to cuddle. After, my Keyholder joked that she would like to keep me in her shed until she needed me again. Well, it was not exactly a joke, more of a wish. Had I not responsibilities of my own, I would gladly become her tool for her to wield. I look forward to our next meeting.
The day was spent cooking and cleaning her house. Deep cleaning...baseboards, windows, hands and knees on floor, scrubbing toilets. I had plenty of quiet time to think while I did these things. Why would I, a professional with many many things to do, spend hours doing this menial labor? The first – and easy – answer is because my Keyholder wants it. That is enough. The second, harder answer is sacrifice, I think. I don't particularly enjoy scrubbing floors, though it is necessary and I do get satisfaction from it. But, I think there is a greater satisfaction in the exchange of the whole thing. What I mean is this: I give up my time I'd rather spend drinking at the pub, and do this service for my Keyholder. I give up one of my desires in exchange of one of her own. She is benefited by a clean floor and the satisfaction of an obedient slave (I hope; I cannot speak to the keyholder's mentality), and I am benefited by serving a beautiful woman, by (hopefully) pleasing her with a job well done (or, at least, done) and growing in my servitude. Gathering a little humility on the way does not hurt, either. We all need more humility, and scrubbing a toilet is one sure way of getting it.
I was well-rewarded with a meal and a movie, and getting to cuddle. After, my Keyholder joked that she would like to keep me in her shed until she needed me again. Well, it was not exactly a joke, more of a wish. Had I not responsibilities of my own, I would gladly become her tool for her to wield. I look forward to our next meeting.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
A Stay
So it turns out that the piercing will have to wait, which is okay. My Keyholder has pierced me already with her will. She came in today and she was a vision of loveliness, so beautiful it made me want to cry. After I brewed her coffee and rained kisses on her boots for a bit, she prepared me for what was to come. Tenderly and lovingly for a long time, she milked me, guiding her fingers inside me, massaging my prostrate. I was not able to release, though, despite her trying for a long time. She took the belt off, which relieved some of the pressure. Her touch on my cock was electric. I was completely in subspace by now, ready to do anything she asked of me. My favorite part was the intermittent hugs and kisses she allowed me.
The next part was not as pleasurable. My Keyholder wanted to experiment with figging. A sizable chunk of ginger was cut in the shape of a plug, and inserted (or, almost inserted). It was an interesting sensation. At first, nothing, then it kicked in. It burned, like icy hot but less painful. I tried to resist as much as I could. My struggling only squeezed the ginger plug, which released more juice and made it burn more. After I cried out, she took it out. After it comes out, it continues to burn, even intensifying, then the burn settles down to a nice afterglow which was actually pleasurable.
My Keyholder was not done testing me yet, though. A little sprig of ginger was inserted into my peehole. My, this was extremely intense. It was very difficult, and I groaned. I tried to stay strong for my Keyholder, and I think she was satisfied. After she took it out, I was once again enraptured by her, by her beauty. I was ready to do anything she asked of me.
My Keyholder allowed me to pleasure her, which I was only too willing to do. As I write this, I take pleasure in her pleasure. It is all that is allowed of me, and I enjoy all that I can.
The next part was not as pleasurable. My Keyholder wanted to experiment with figging. A sizable chunk of ginger was cut in the shape of a plug, and inserted (or, almost inserted). It was an interesting sensation. At first, nothing, then it kicked in. It burned, like icy hot but less painful. I tried to resist as much as I could. My struggling only squeezed the ginger plug, which released more juice and made it burn more. After I cried out, she took it out. After it comes out, it continues to burn, even intensifying, then the burn settles down to a nice afterglow which was actually pleasurable.
My Keyholder was not done testing me yet, though. A little sprig of ginger was inserted into my peehole. My, this was extremely intense. It was very difficult, and I groaned. I tried to stay strong for my Keyholder, and I think she was satisfied. After she took it out, I was once again enraptured by her, by her beauty. I was ready to do anything she asked of me.
My Keyholder allowed me to pleasure her, which I was only too willing to do. As I write this, I take pleasure in her pleasure. It is all that is allowed of me, and I enjoy all that I can.
A New Year
A new year begins with my manhood locked down. My Keyholder holds the key. She is on her way and has promised a day of fun and testing for me. I know there will be ordeals. My first slave piercing is scheduled for later today. I have never had a piercing, and am quite nervous. It is a mark of ownership, a submission of my flesh to her, and I will do as I am told.
A word here about the "belt". It is the cb-6000. It is reasonably comfortable to wear, though fitment is tricky. One has to try out many rings and combinations to find a good fit. I have been wearing it for over a month, with periodic breaks for cleaning, etc. I have worn it before, so mu body is broken in for it. If you are wearing one for the first time, I can't stress how important it is to break in gently. The first time I wore it and got excited, it was like having ones balls caught in a vice. Quite painful. Then again, that may be what you are after. Now, they've been stretched enough that erections are still painful, but not drop-you-to-the-floor painful. The belt is not 100% secure, in that certain body types can pull out when flaccid. To me, this is not the point of chastity, of giving control of one's orgasm to another. My Keyholder and I practiced chastity for months before going to the belt. It is her word and her will that keep me chaste, not a belt. A belt adds to all this, adds to the sensations, the feeling of being trapped, the continual reminder that I belong to my Keyholder. But it is just a tool. Chastity begins in the heart.
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