Disobedience as service. Say what?

One other thing I did this past weekend was to, quite deliberately, go against Bear’s wishes.

I had taken some downtime during the weekend, and time in the morning, to upgrade Bear’s PC to Windows 8.1, from Windows 7. The upgrade went well, but somewhere along the line his sound card acquired the most godawful hum.

I knew this was a hardware problem. I knew I had to get in there to fix it. And, Bear’s PC was on a small table by his desk, with a printer wedged in there, and a bunch of paper and stuff piled all around.  There was no way I was going to fix it while it was in there. The cables at the back were bunching up against the wall, it was sitting at an angle propped up partially by the printer, with bottom airflow obstructed.

So I moved all of that out of there, at something like 8 in the evening. Everything under Bear’s desk, and everything to the side of Bear’s desk, creating a godawful mess in the middle of the floor. I knew he wouldn’t like this. He had talked about cleaning this area up for a while now, and as with several previous weekends, it hadn’t happened this weekend.

Bear came upon this and asked me whether that couldn’t have waited, and he was going to do it this weekend. He was annoyed. I told him that in order to fix his PC, I needed to tackle this now.

Once I had the PC out of there, fixing the sound card turned out to be a simple matter of taking it out, re-soldering the stressed power connector, and putting it back in.

I was feeling quite stressed. I didn’t want to incur Bear’s displeasure, but I had seen no good way out of this without doing so. Short of waiting for another undetermined length of time until I could get at the PC, and I wasn’t prepared to do that.

Once the PC was working again, with the mess still in the middle of the floor, I knelt before Bear and explained that I was sorry that I went against his wishes. I knew I had. I had done it because I believed that going against his wishes was the best way I could serve him, right now. And that if he felt that this needed to result in a consequence, I was going to accept that.

Then I set to cleaning up the mess I had created, with Bear’s help as to what could be tossed, what recycled or given away, and what was to be kept. Halfway through I asked him, with some anxiety, whether he accepted my apology. “Can I leave you hanging on that?” he said, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

Of course he could. An hour later, when the mess was taken care of and we were getting ready for bed, he told me he accepted my apology, and no further consequences would be coming.

One change I notice in my own behavior is that half a year ago, I probably would have also tackled this without Bear’s say-so, but I’d then have gotten into an argument about it with him, likely full of references to how long that area had remained cluttered, with shots fired back about my own cluttered desk, and so forth and so tiresome.
Now, I still did what I felt I had to do. But without accusations, but rather an apology and being prepared to accept the consequences of my action, should there have been any.

I don’t want to repeat that performance. In the same situation, I’d do so again, but I will aim to not let things get to such a head where I feel I have no choice but to go against Bear’s express wishes.

Two days later, by the way, Bear seems quite happy that this task is now done. As I am typing this, he’s chasing the dog through the house with a little mini-copter that was unearthed while going through that pile.

If you read this and you are in a D/s dynamic of some kind: How would you have acted in this situation, on either side of that dynamic?

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Toy chest: The “dog leash”

The ancient greeks liked to do their sports and entertainment naked, and to avoid sand getting under the foreskin – yowch – and to preserve modesty, they tied the foreskin shut with a piece of leather. They called this contraption the Kynodesme, or “dog leash”.

A modern take on the same idea is to use a shoe lace instead of a leather thong. I had worn a Kynodesme previously, though not for a while. I put one on recently, tied it around the waist so my cock was pulled against my belly, and served breakfast to Bear.

He commented on it, asking me what it was. I wear a small wardrobe full of various cock bondage toys, as the mood strikes me pretty much, and Bear rarely comments. That he did was a clue that he liked this idea. I tried asking him about it, and put my foot firmly in mouth. I had started by saying “You don’t often comment, but you commented on this”, and Bear latched on to the “you don’t often comment bit” as criticism. Well oops. So, quick restart, explanation that I meant to say “I noticed you commenting on the Kynodesme”, not an attempt to criticize him. But boy communication can be difficult at times, about the simplest things.

What I learned was that Bear did like the Kynodesme. He thought it preserved my modesty, “instead of your big shlong flopping all over the place all the time.” Yes, he wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

So I wore it again the next two days. Being teased while my foreskin is tied shut is a special kind of sensation. It’s much more frustrating than when I can enjoy a full erection. My cock is squished, and depending on how the Kynodesme is tied, bent back on itself a bit. Desperate for more sensation, but tied away.

I admit to trying to get out of it. When Bear gave me an opportunity to jerk him off, I asked him whether he preferred me fully erect. “This is fine,” he said.

Yes, yes it was. Of course it was.

Though frustrating. And even more so when he started playing with my balls, then just resting his hand on my shortened and bound package. Though, as frustrating as that was physically, I also really liked the feeling and sight of my cock “tied away”, and Bear idly teasing me. I felt very much kept. Which, if you’ve read this blog at all, is a thing with me.

Later, I asked Bear whether he preferred that I wear the Kynodesme every time I serve him breakfast, or whether I should switch it up. “Switch it up,” Bear said. To my relief. It’s a fun toy, this little piece of string. And I’m not going to wear it every day unless and until Bear requires that.

Go ahead, you kinksters with your devices. Snigger.

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Freedom porn

It’s been a pleasant 4th of July weekend. There were steaks (overdone), burgers (just right), yard work, we had the daughter’s boyfriend over and played with the dog (the actual dog, I should clarify). And somewhere in there, we also found time to be frisky.

I had knelt sometime Friday and asked Bear whether he wanted some dog play (not with the actual dog, thank you very much). To my delight, he had said yes. I was thinking “Sunday”, since that was the most likely day to give us some time. Bear was horny Saturday afternoon, and I wasn’t clean, and he wasn’t in the mood for waiting around. He handed me the lube and told me to get him off by rubbing my cock against his.

“Oh boy,” I said, not really thinking.
Bear raised an eyebrow. “Why ‘oh boy’?” he inquired.
“I get so excited,” I explained, possibly a little bashfully.
“If you get close, you have permission to take your cock out and keep stroking me until you’re cooled down again a bit,” Bear said.

“Thank you,” I said, with heartfelt relief in my voice. I didn’t want to come, not quite yet. I straddled Bear, applied plenty of lube, and started stroking away. This is a lot of fun for me. I get to see Bear’s face and the pleasure playing across it, and I get to feel his dick in my hand and mine sliding against it, and I get to have Bear tell me how great my dick feels against his. Only, I get so very excited. This time was no exception, and as Bear was nearing his orgasm, I was nearing mine. I made an effort to really focus on his pleasure, and let mine just flow through me, trying not to dwell overly on whether I would get too close before he came. I didn’t want to change up the rhythm so close to his release. I know he just wants “more of the same” when he’s that close.

I got lucky. Bear started coming when I was still a good five or so strokes away, and I let my dick slip from my grasp and finished milking Bear with just my hand. Then I cleaned him up, we showered, and I was feeling horny and desperate and needy and full of a warm, submissive glow.

Sunday morning, I got up before Bear, as I usually do. I cleaned myself, and prepared breakfast for him. Getting clean was, I thought, a bit optimistic – but it doesn’t hurt me any, and I might just get lucky again. Plus, I had promised to be clean every Sunday, and what with Bear’s illness and just life getting busy, I hadn’t been good at keeping that promise.

After serving Bear his breakfast, I knelt again and asked him whether he still wanted dog play. He said he probably didn’t, now, after yesterday’s activities. I told him I understood and knew it was a long shot, but thought I’d offer. I suggested that, maybe, this was an opportunity for Bear to do some erotic photography, which he wanted to take up as a hobby. Whether of bondage, or combined with dog play, or just a detail piece, such as a nice piece of cock and ball bondage we had seen and been wanting to attempt to replicate. If I can find my paracord needle. Which is around here somewhere.

Photography didn’t happen. Later that morning, as I was chatting with Bear and cuddling him and pressing my erection into his thigh, he told me that he was feeling a little horny. That, he didn’t need to tell me twice. I briefly caressed his dick through his night clothes, then knelt again, my own erection jutting up between my thighs, and asked: “How may I please you?”

Bear liked that phrasing, I could tell. “By taking off my pants for a start,” he said. Fuck yeah. Off come his pants, and then his T-shirt. I stroked him for a little bit, and he told me he wanted to fuck me. He also told me he was in two minds about dog play. He was nervous because in the past, he might lose his erection by the time I had a dog mask on. I reassured him that that was the past, and was much less likely to happen now that his health was better.

I didn’t waste time getting off the bed, getting the rubber mask on, and getting back on the bed. Bear directed me to suck his cock, and I did so eagerly, filling my mouth and nose with his taste and smell. I heard some “good dog”, then a command to rub myself against his thigh. Sucking Bear and dry-humping him, I got very, very close and started worrying about that a little, while still concentrating on giving that dick my all, and then I heard something I didn’t understand, because all I could hear in that mask, really, was the sound of my own slobbering. “Huh, what?” I asked, not very dog-like at all. “Would doggie like the bone in the ass?” Bear repeated, gamely plowing on. Did I ever!

And so we shuffled positions, and Bear humped me, pressing me into the mattress, while I arched my back and moaned. After he came, he stayed in me for a bit, and I squeezed him and rotated my ass cheeks against him. He pulled out, and then I could feel his hand at my balls, teasing me. I rocked back and shuffled on all fours, giving him better access, and moaning for all I was worth. Dignity be damned, I’m already wearing a dog mask and just got fucked in the ass, and loving it. He lightly ran a hand over the underside of my shaft, rubbing his wrist against my balls. It was maddening, and lovely all at once. He kept that up for a few seconds, and then it was time to shower.

After, Bear remarked that sometimes he couldn’t tell.
“Tell what?” I asked.
“You are so eager,” he explained. “I sometimes can’t tell where your excitement for your own stuff ends and your excitement for my stuff begins.”

It may need explaining that dog play was Bear’s idea, as a pivot from pony play, and I went along with both ideas eagerly after an initial “wait what now?” reaction of a day or two.

I don’t know any more that where my stuff ends and Bear’s begins is an easy distinction to make, and told him so. My eagerness is real. My desire to please Bear is my stuff, and so dog play becomes my stuff, because it’s his stuff.

And, well, truthfully, dog play is easier than pony play. I find it easier to get into a dog mindset than a pony mindset. Though I’d do my damnedest to be the best pony Bear could wish for if he wanted to pivot back in that direction again.

So, that was my weekend. No point to this post other than a bit of porn. How was yours?

 

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Toy chest: Cock ring

I’ve mentioned before that I wear a cock ring when inside the house. I like it enough to give it a post of its own. I am thinking of blogging my way through part of my toy chest, and what better place to start than here.

Cock Ring
Yes, I had permission to take it off to snap this picture 🙂

This is a ring by Gear Essentials, which they call the “Imperial Tribal”. They show it being worn on their blog. At about 6 oz, it is pleasantly weighty, yet not so heavy that it would get uncomfortable.

When choosing a cock ring, fit is everything. Getting the right fit will take some trial and error. Before investing into something like this, you’ll want to have a very good idea of fit already. Experimenting with cheap rings from a hardware store is sensible. Just keep in mind that a thin ring that becomes uncomfortable after hours of wear might just be the right size in a wider ring. A wider ring is heavier, and will slip off more readily than a thin, light ring.

Under no circumstance should your cock turn blue, or heavens forbid get cold to the touch. If that happens you’re restricting blood flow too much and the ring has to come off before you do damage. So, when testing, err on bigger sizes initially, and gradually test something smaller. Anything that is the diameter of your erect cock or even smaller will be too small, you don’t have to go that far down.

For myself, a ring about 5mm (1/8″) bigger in diameter than the base of my cock is right, which makes this a 2 1/8″ ring. I don’t know that that’s a universal formula, but it’s probably not a bad starting point. Cock rings typically come in 5mm (1/8″) size increments, and don’t cater to people with very thick or very thin cocks. If you fall well outside the norm either way, and you want a cock ring, you might need to spring for something custom-made.

When shopping for a ring for long-term wear, there are a few things beyond size that you want to look out for so that it will not cause irritation and redness, or even sores. Look for it to be wide. This ring is 0.6″, anything around 1/2″ is good. Look for a rounded inner surface, to avoid irritation there. And lastly, look for flat “edges” as you see in this picture. I’ve worn a ring that came to more of an edge where the inner and outer surfaces meet, and it would dig into my mons pubis and not be comfortable for longer than 24 hours.

I originally wore a 60mm ring (wide, rounded, but with those damnable edges) after testing size, but as I got used to wearing it and my scrotum became a bit more loose, that turned out to be too big. It would slip off and fall down my trouser leg. Not a great thing.

 

I can and have worn this ring for days on end without any discomfort. I take it off when I leave the house, and put it back on when I come back. The rules regarding it have evolved. It used to be that I wore it over-night, then took it off when leaving the house, and Bear would hand it back to me to wear at night. Now, I wear it “on the grounds”, that is in the house and in the garden, and am expected to keep track of putting it on and taking it off myself.

This simple ring has to be my favorite toy, hands-down. It increases the intensity of my erections, it reminds me by its presence of my genitals and of my promise to Bear, and wearing it makes me much hornier than I would be without it. And it looks great to boot.

 

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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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