Homework

One of Bear’s favorite sexual fantasies is a rape fantasy. He is king and leader of an army, and after defeating an opposing army, forces the leader of that army into receptive anal and oral sex. Which is met at first with resistance, and eventually (over weeks and months) gives over to enjoyment and mutual love, at which point this vanquished leader becomes his most favored slave and they are sexually exclusive with each other.
Which makes it more than a ravishment than a rape fantasy, actually.

This weekend, Bear told me he had been thinking about an idea for a picture. He wants to act out this fantasy with a few more props. He wants to tie my arms and legs to a 2×4 or 4×4 using cuffs, he tells me, and tie my balls back to something so I can’t move forward and “escape.”

I was all over that. Instantly hard (not that it takes much these days,) and raring to put this plan into motion. After we had breakfast at our favorite place, I drove us to ACE to get some screw-in eye-bolts. Bear was amused by my eagerness. For my part, being eager is core to the job description.

And now fantasy has to meet the details of making it happen. Bear thought some more about what he wants, and he’s thinking he doesn’t want horizontal 4x4s, he wants two pieces of lumber crossed at an angle, and fasten the cuffs to that. Which,  conveniently, would also get us started on that piece of furniture every kinky person seems to covet, the St. Andrew’s Cross.

For tying the balls back, he wants to use an elastic, rather than rope, to avoid catastrophic injury. I’ll be on all fours, and I think the risk is minimal – still, that’s a smart precaution.

So now I have Homework, with a capital H. Write this blog post – easy, done – and create the beginnings of a St. Andrew’s Cross. That’s not easy. To do that, I need a work space. The same work space we’ve been talking of creating since we moved into this house some 8 years ago. The garage is a clutter of stuff both useful and not, with not even enough room to walk freely – clambering over things is involved. Well, now I have a compelling reason to de-clutter it. Which will take months. At the very least.

I’ve committed to doing that: Create a work space, create then a work bench, and start on a cross. I fully expect I’ll still be blogging about that a year from now.

For the noo, I’ll make some spreader bars. Laid out in a square with a cross-brace, they’ll be functional for enacting Bear’s fantasy.  Who wants to wait a year.

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BDSM Photos for February 2015

BEAR here.

We have had a marvelous February. The week after Valentine’s day we went to the shore and spent a weekend in a spa. We had a king sized bed for Schnoff’s exceptionally long legs and the room had a fireplace. There was a sauna, steam room and hot tub. Licensed massage therapists on hand. Amazing wine and cheese and pastries in the evening and lots of laughs and conversation with other guests. Pictures from that are more personal and are posted elsewhere, but I also had a rope session with Schnoff just before. I tied him up in a harness variation based on the pentacle harness by Lee Harrington from “More Shibari You Can Use”. I hope you like it. There were also a few pictures at the spa where I tied him on the bed, which I will also share here. Enjoy!

Oh, and if anybody is wondering, Schnoff is wearing a 1lb split collar from Secret Leather and the silicone Bull Balls from Mr. S Leather. Another more cheaper source for weights, which I just found this very minute is The Chain Gang. I wish we had known about this place before, because Secret Leather is a bit expensive and we have quite a few from there. Looks like The Chain Gang is about half to a third of the price.

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Obey, you must (November-ish)

Communication. It’s easy to call for it, I tell myself I’m great at it, until I find my insecurities got in the way.

I don’t want to “bother” Bear. Left to my own desires, I’d have kinky play and sex daily, and I don’t want to be a pest. So, when I feel lonely or frustrated, I am more likely to leave Bear to whatever he is doing than speak up. Sometime November, Bear asked me about a bottle of wine I had finished the previous evening, while watching some MASH with him. I thought about it for a moment, and told him it was self-medication. He had been playing a video game, I had felt lonely that day, but did not want to bother him.

Bear wasn’t happy with that, though understanding, and ordered me to tell him when I was lonely.

Fast forward to early December. We’ve just come back from 5 days of in-laws over Thanksgiving, and I am going away for 5 days of training. Not a lot of time for intimacy, though we did make a little time. The last night away, I felt unbearably frustrated. I wanted to stroke myself so, so badly. Bear, when I texted him a “whatcha doing” texted back that he was playing a video game. So, again with the “not bothering.” I didn’t feel lonely, after all, just really horny and frustrated.

Which led to me blatantly disregarding Bear’s express command, and stroking myself in the shower the next morning. The mind is amazing at rationalizing just about anything. With predictable results: I didn’t stop in time, and while I managed to avoid orgasm, I did dribble a few droplets of come.

Thumper’s not wrong when he comments that there isn’t enough willpower to avoid this kind of thing, and that devices exist for a reason.

When I told Bear about it, he was, in his words, “unhappy” that I had disobeyed him. As a result, for now, he does not want to put his collar on me, and I miss it.

In both of these cases, what was missing was communication: Me telling Bear how I felt. That, we have resolved, will get better. Writing this down, I notice a common “Bear is playing a video game” theme. I think that’s my insecurities speaking up again. “Oh, he prefers the game to me. I better sit quietly over here.” That, I can change as well.

There is more missing than just communication, though. My frustration was real, and if I find myself that frustrated again, I don’t know that I will (always) have the willpower to stay away from my dick. What I crave is sensation, and loving attention. And when the most common way I get strong sensation is by giving it to myself, the wrong lesson is being taught. Bear, by and large, has avoided stroking me and getting me close. When I asked him about it, he told me this was because he was worried he might misjudge and I’d come. Because he wants to control when and how I come.

Would that be so bad, I asked. Couldn’t he take his hands away and allow a “ruined” orgasm if he misjudges how close I am? That would demonstrate his control over me.

Bear thought about it for a few hours, and then asked me how I’d feel if he ruined an orgasm deliberately when he would have let me come otherwise, and told me he had done that because I had disobeyed him. I’d be grateful for the attention and for being trained, I told him.
That’s what he’d be doing then, he said. I could expect to have an orgasm ruined because I disobeyed him. Also, every time I touched my frenum from here on out, he’d add time until he’ll allow me to come again.

I’m more than good with that. I want to feel forgiven, and having a consequence to my behavior will give me that, I think.

Bear also told me that if I came once more by stroking myself, he’d put me in a device. He doesn’t want me in there, and he wants to control my orgasm. I am apprehensive that I may, best intentions notwithstanding, force his hand.

I asked him whether that would mean a change to his standing “no toys outside the house” rule. Presumably, I’d wear a cage while traveling? Yes, he confirmed.

In that case, I asked, would he want my dick pierced now? Just so he has the option of using a device without needing to wait 3-4 months for healing?

No, Bear said, and then he explained further. If I developed a urinary tract infection, rare as they are, from a genital piercing, he wouldn’t know how to deal with that and would have to seriously reconsider his role as my dominant, he says. Because he does not want to injure me.

I pointed out he’d injured me before, with hemp rope. The burns healed after a few weeks and there are no marks. Had I noticed he was no longer using the hemp rope, Bear asked. Funnily, I hadn’t. I mean, I had noticed he had used other rope, but bondage play is not something we do often, so I hadn’t seen a pattern. Side note on bondage play, I’ll get back to that.

I’ve asked for two changes. One is that Bear stroke me more often, so I am not so frustrated and so that I learn that pleasure come from him. The other is that I be allowed to take my shaft and glans rings with me when I travel. If I find myself similarly frustrated again, I’ll tell Bear, and ask for permission to wear them. The snugness of the rings helps: It makes me feel “held”, and gives me some of the sensation I crave.

We’re making this up as we go along. There is no road map for this kind of sexual expression. I can find other people’s journeys in chastity, with cock cages and gear. What we are attempting, orgasm denial where Bear’s control really is not present directly, I can find no guide for. We’ll continue trying things out, and hopefully we’ll stumble on something that works, having fun along the way.

Fun is being had. A week ago, after he had fucked me well, I asked Bear to please stroke me. “A little later,” he said, and he made good on that promise in the afternoon. He used baby oil to stroke me, got me close, then told me “Don’t come.” “Yes Sir,” I breathed. After a brief cooling-off period, he’d resume stroking me, until I was close again. “Don’t come,” came the command, and my response. He continued stroking me very slowly, making me shudder and struggle. He repeated this about four times. Every time I was close, he’d tell me “Don’t come”, I’d reply “Yes Sir” and arch my back and clench my PC muscles and hold on as best I could while he would slowly, slowly give me one more stroke.

“I love torturing you and command you not to come,” Bear said. Then, with some wonder, “All I’ve been doing is sit here and stroke you, and I am rock hard.”

“May I make you come, Sir, please?” I asked eagerly. Bear looked a bit surprised. He undressed, laid down, and I started stroking him, presenting myself to him in hopes he would stroke me some more. He didn’t. While I got him to his second orgasm of the day, my own cock bobbed there fully erect, ignored by him. And that, too, was very good indeed.

What Bear was surprised about, I learned later, was my eagerness. “I haven’t seen you like that before,” he said. I thought about it. “Actually you have, Sir,” I said. “Just that I already had access to your cock at that time. I get like that whenever you bring me close a few times. It’s a very submissive place I go to, one where I am deeply grateful and all I want to do is please you. Remember when I was stroking you, and you were stroking me, and I started mouthing your balls for all I was worth? That was the same reaction.”

Details make a big difference. Bear experiences my eagerness completely differently when I am not already pleasing him than when I am. That’s good to keep in mind.

I am very happy that Bear has found that “torturing” me – the sweetest kind of torture, really – excites him greatly. Not only do I get what I crave, I am pleasing him at the same time. It doesn’t get better than that.

I said I’d briefly circle back on bondage. The reason Bear does not bind me often, he discovered in our discussions, is that he is conflicted. He likes binding me, he also gets stressed. His inner critic tells him that the knots are no good, and the ropework is sloppy, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Which is to say, rope bondage is not a honed skill. It can’t be without the honing of that skill. He realizes how self-defeating those thoughts are. I’ll continue asking him for bondage, and I suggested he may try to view his inner critic with loving detachment.

 

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October

October saw me wearing Bear’s collar daily, and sometimes day and night. I loved it. I felt kept and eager to serve Bear. Bear, in turn, tells me he loves seeing it on me more and more.

My neck, unfortunately, did not love it. Major knots, which interfered with the healing of my shoulder. So the collar’s been off for a good three weeks now, or what feels like three weeks. Recently, Bear asked me how my neck felt and whether I thought I was ready to wear the collar again. I said I thought so, if I could adjust it to be a bit wider. We tried having it on for one night, and that wasn’t good, either. I’ve asked to be allowed to wear it during the day, then. Bear says yes, and once he tries that, we’ll see how it goes.

This is fantasy running smack-bang into neuro-muscular reality. I miss the collar, and we’ll adjust.

Denial-wise, October was a month of quiet intensity. I felt less desperate than I had in the past, but at the same time, my arousal felt more all-encompassing. I feel arousal throughout my body. This month, that feeling was more intense, and more often present, than at other times.

Towards the end of October, I started fantasizing about not coming for a good long while longer, maybe until early next year.

I also got very, very sensitive around my balls, getting to a state of near-orgasmic arousal just by tugging on them, which was new.

That might have been a warning, hindsight being perfect. A few days before Bear’s birthday, I came without permission.

I had woken up and, in my groggy and horny state, thought it would be fun (and a good idea) to bind my foreskin shut with a kynodesme, and then apply a leather ball / cock bondage contraption at the same time, and see whether I could wait out the erection until I was soft again, and keep the kynodesme on.

I was tugging on the foreskin to keep it from slipping out of the knot I had tied. What I felt was some discomfort from the stretching of my foreskin, and the skin tugging at my balls in their leather stretcher. I was hard, but I wasn’t feeling any increasing arousal that might lead to an orgasm. Until, that is, I did, in a sudden and unexpected wave originating from my balls. I took the toys off and my hands away, to no avail. I came in three, four spurts.

What annoyed me most about this was that not only had I taken Bear’s decision on whether I’d come, even if not deliberately, I had done so just before his birthday.

A few hours later, I made and served breakfast, and when Bear was done eating, told him what had happened. He listened to the details, then told me that although I had been using toys, given the sudden onset of my orgasm, he’d treat it as a natural occurrence, like a wet dream. He would not blame me for this.

Which is very kind of him. I’m mindful to follow his example and not blame myself, either. I was obedient for a bit over half a year, and take that as progress. I also had no desire whatsoever to “finish myself off,” to make an accidental orgasm into a full one. In the past, I had to will my hands still, so overwhelming was the urge to stroke when I came “accidentally.” No more: All I felt was chagrin. That my orgasm belongs to Bear is a deep-felt emotional reality, is now part and parcel of my connection with Bear. Even, or especially when, I screw up.

I do take a few lessons away. One, be extra careful when combining toys. When in doubt, don’t. Be careful about stimulating my balls: Clearly I can come from that stimulation, now. And two, whenever I start fantasizing in earnest about not coming for another 3, 6, 12 months, then be wary. It seems that when I start feeling like I’d happily be denied for much longer that, maybe paradoxically, I put a stop to that becoming a reality.

I did remain quite horny after that orgasm, and about a week later, begged Bear for a real one. He told me he decided when I’d come, and not now. Maybe next time we had sex. That was about 2 weeks ago. I didn’t come next time we had sex, or the time after that. He has been teasing me nightly, grinning broadly as I writhe and moan. It’s lovely to fall asleep feeling desperately horny and deeply submissive.

We talked about play and bondage some. Bear wants to bind, and he also dreads binding. He feels like he’s being scrutinized, judged, for his skill: Is that tie right? Did he remember to allow himself an easy way back out? Is it the way he tied it before?
To help him with this, I’ll cease all “helpful suggestions” during bondage. I truly don’t care what his knots look like, I just love being in rope. I’ll also keep asking him for bondage, in a “can we this weekend” or “can we this week” manner, and we’ll see how that feels for him.

 

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BDSM photos

BEAR here.

As Schnoff has mentioned, I have been wanting to get into BDSM photography some. We did a session this last weekend and here are a few of the pictures I have decided to share. I hope you enjoy and most comments are welcome provided they are presented with a little “decorum”.

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Two months and counting

Punished

I had forgotten to take off the cock ring I wear around the house, when I was out taking the dog to the park. Well, more to the point, taking the dog to the park while the daughter learns to drive me there. Let’s say I was more than just a bit preoccupied.

I figured it out when I was at the park. And told Bear when we were back. He took the ring off me, and didn’t allow me to wear it again until two nights later. That first night was rough. I hardly slept a wink.

And then I did it again, and again in the exact same situation: Taking the dog, with the daughter threatening to drive the car into the berm. This time, I didn’t actually notice until we were back home. Bear took the ring off me for 6 nights. And he changed the rules: Yes, I can still wear the ring “on the grounds.” But if I am getting ready to leave, I am to take the ring off before I step through the door.

I feel fairly confident the lesson’s been rammed home.

Birthday

A bit over two weeks ago, we celebrated my birthday. It had been a bit over 8 weeks since I last came. As planned, I got on my knees and asked Bear to please not make me come, to keep me horny for longer. “Maybe,” he said. “We’ll see.”

As a present, Bear had three pieces of lingerie for me. A black mesh boxer-brief, which he likes a lot; a red flimsy thing of lace that is quite playful; and a white brief with snaps at the sides. My very own stripper brief.

A little later that day, Bear bound me. He blindfolded me, and made me shiver by running rope over my body and teasing my cock. Then he bound me in a harness, but reversed so my arms were in front, to be careful of my (still) injured shoulder. I felt him running rope around my cock and balls, and back through my crack.

And then he pressed me down on my knees and fucked my mouth. The rope he had bound around my cock tightened as I knelt, and I could feel my erection become rock-hard between my thighs.

What this wasn’t was me sucking him off. I had no control over depth or speed, and I couldn’t use my hands to fondle him. I was desperately horny and longed for my cock to be handled, but that was not to be. Bear held on to me and thrust into my mouth, and when he got close, he thrust in deep and came down my throat, ignoring the fact that I was gagging around his cock.

It wasn’t what I had envisioned. I had fantasized about being stroked and teased close to orgasm. That didn’t happen. After he came, Bear untied me, lightly ran a hand over my cock, and that was that.

And, it was wonderful. I really enjoyed being Bear’s fuck toy.

And yes, he indulged me. He didn’t make me come, and I haven’t come since.

Sex toy

I know what it feels like to be denied and constantly horny. I don’t know what it feels like to have a partner who is denied. So I asked Bear.

What he told me was that because I am always horny, he doesn’t have to feel guilty about demanding sex from me when he wants it, because he knows I will always be eager. It’s an answer I had not expected. I am glad I asked.

He also told me that my frequent arousal drives home the idea that I am his sex toy. “At the same time that you are also my husband,” he hastened to add.

Husband and sex toy who is being kept denied and sexually frustrated. I can live with that.

One year

A little over a year ago, I figured out how to obey Bear for longer than 7 to 10 days. Since then, orgasm denial has become a normal part of our lives, and Bear has become comfortable with it. “I am so desperate,” I said recently. “Good,” Bear said.

For the first time in that year, I am denied “for a long time” by Bear’s arbitrary reckoning, which is any period longer than 8 weeks. It’s been 11 weeks. I get a kick out of knowing that it’s been over 2 months, and that I will likely wait as long again. And if I’m really lucky, Bear will keep me denied until our next anniversary, making it a full year. Or, hey, why not beyond.

The specter of disobedience has been banished. Knock on wood.

My emotional state right now is one of acceptance. When Bear teases me, I want to come. Desperately and right then. Without reservations. And, I am also completely accepting of the fact that I will only come when Bear wants me to, that I begged him to keep me horny, and he’s giving me what I asked for.

I am curious to find out whether the way denial feels changes as the time I am denied gets longer. That’s why I am saying “if I am lucky, he will deny me for a year or even longer.” Not because I hate orgasm. I love orgasm. Not even because I enjoy being horny so much. I do, and I know that after orgasm, it takes a few hours before I am horny again. Orgasm is just a brief point of intense pleasure and relief in an ongoing reality of sexual need. Whether I come or not doesn’t change that most of the time, I’ll feel the sexual frustration I have become accustomed to.

But maybe that accustomed feeling changes over time, becomes something more intense, or merely different. Maybe the feeling doesn’t change, but I change, as I have already been changing. That’s what I am curious to find out.

How about you, whether denying or denied? Does long-term denial feel different than medium-term? Does the behavior of the one being denied change? Does the behavior of the one doing the denying change?

 

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Ropes and a collar, oh my

There’s been a bit more rope play around here lately, and I’m enjoying it greatly. Mostly having my hands tied and pulled over my head secured to the headboard, maybe a bit of cock bondage, and being humped by Bear. Last time he did this, he teased me close to orgasm, and as I got closer and wriggled and moaned, I was getting ready to beg – beg him not to make me come, although my body wanted nothing but. When he let off, I let out a big huff and relieved “thank you.” It looked like he understood what I had thanked him for.

I spelled it out a bit later anyway, in the name of good communication – oh who am I kidding, because I love talking about my denial. As we were basking, he asked me about the far-away look I got for a moment. I told him I was hoping and fantasizing that he’d take his time before he let me come. Maybe until his birthday, I said. He gave a little laugh, a bit surprised I think. Or maybe until our next anniversary, I said. He didn’t react further, and I didn’t press. Those two dates are 5 months and a year from when I last came. Right now it’s been a bit over 5 weeks.

Hubris, with my history of self-control? Maybe. On the other hand, I’m not going to improve my record of obedience if I don’t dream and stretch myself. And I am genuinely curious whether chastity will feel different to me after months than it does after weeks.

When I feel the urge to pleasure myself in the ways that had me coming before, I think “horny and obedient” to myself. Corny as it is, it works right now. What I feel when Bear is teasing me is shifting. My body feels the urgent need for orgasm. I feel both the desire to come and the desire not to, to please Bear by obeying and staying horny. The desire not to come is getting stronger with time. Behavior modification works, what can I say.

A few weeks ago, I walked in on Bear, knelt with a leash in my hand – I had thought about carrying it in my mouth, but then I couldn’t have spoken – and asked him whether he’d like to gag and fuck me. Much to my delight, he did just that a little later in the day. What I hadn’t expected was that he told me to get the collar out. The very same collar that he put on me some 14 years ago, that was the symbol of my promise to obey and his promise to own me, and that I gave back to him when that attempt ended in hurt feelings and tears. He fastened it around my neck, leashed me to the headboard, and humped me enthusiastically while I was lying face-down and drooling into the pillow.

I can’t help myself, I saw all sorts of significance in that. Though I know that he was just playing. After, I told Bear that I couldn’t help but dwell on the symbolism. He told me that was fine by him, as long as I was fine with the fact that for him, this was just a bit of play. I told him I was fine by that. I am. And still I am hopeful.

That collar is in bad shape – some form of green gunk, not sure whether it’s from the rivets I used when I made it or from the glue. I’ll get it cleaned up. And it barely, barely fits me any more. There’s a gap. Bear quipped that might give me incentive to lose weight. Hrmph.

Collar

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