Sir and pet

Since my last “here’s everything that happened since 2016” post, there’s been good progress. Bear told me that he wanted to talk about my being his pet again, since he felt awkward every time the topic came up. A few days later, we sat down and discussed it. He is now my Sir, and I am his pet. It’s been — I don’t even know how long since we last tried that. Over a decade, I think.

To fill that with life, we have some “touchpoints” throughout the day. Hitting them consistently is a team effort.

In the morning, while still in bed, we check in with each other, ask how each other’s night was, and make a point to touch.

I make breakfast for Bear and serve him coffee kneeling (and if the weather is warm enough, naked) – that’s not changed, we’ve been doing that.

We embrace before Bear goes to work.

When Bear comes back from work, we check in with each other, ask how each other’s day was.

In the evening, just before getting into bed, we embrace. Bear tells me “I share myself with you, pet” and I tell him “I give myself to you, Sir.”

Once we’re in bed, Bear checks in with me to ask me how I have been doing with orgasm control that day.

I love the emotional connection this gives us. The structure is incredibly helpful to deal with the fact that we both have jobs and sometimes busy lives and it’s easy to let D/s be swamped by the day-to-day. Having specific points in the day to reassure each other of our love for each other and our roles in the relationship is truly lovely.

Bear has made a point of telling me what he wants me to do that day. It’s becoming quite common for him to say something along the lines of “Make sure to pay this bill today, pet”; or “I want you to fix the button on this shirt for me, pet.” I’m thriving on it.

Our couples therapist, T., asked Bear why he wanted control, and he answered “to feel safe”. She cautioned Bear that having control and having control over someone are two very different things, and if dominance – “control over” – is not true to his self, going down that path will be dis-empowering, not empowering.

He’s still feeling his way along, for sure. He asked for my support, and he has it. We’re in this together. Regardless of where this leads. Bear may find that having “control over” is truly in his nature, or he may find that he just wants control to feel safe, and “control over” is not something that really works for him. Either outcome is fine. To get there, he’ll need to experience what “control over” feels like. So far he seems to like it. Yesterday, he told me he might want to pick my clothes for me, now and then.

Mistress Sky, who is helping us tremendously with D/s mentoring, told us in our last meeting with her that she doesn’t have a read yet on where Bear stands with regards to D/s, either. And then she went on to say that, although she’s only seen me for submissive training twice, she’s asked me to give myself to her both times, and I did, and hence I am a “true submissive.” I’ll leave the implications that there might be “false submissives” to the side. She also keeps telling us that “Sir and his pet are so beautiful together.”
The positive reinforcement is welcome, actually, even as I recognize it for what it is. She is sincere in what she says, and I can do with hearing that what I’m after is good and wholesome and desirable.

I’m feeling better right now than I have been in years. The daily emotional connection and daily touch fills a need, as does being the pet in a D/s relationship. I can’t rightly explain this, and – I don’t want to live in a completely equal partnership. I am so much happier when I have a partner I can give myself to. There’s a part of me still that says “you’re out of your gourd” – I am in my late 40s and quite capable, so what am I doing wanting to be someone’s pet? And I can’t deny that when I live as a submissive man, I am happy and fulfilled, and when I don’t, I am degrees of miserable.

How does that jive with me saying that whatever Bear’s truth is, I am good with it, and I want him to get to it? Simply by wanting him to feel empowered and happy, and accepting all possible outcomes for our relationship. If being Sir to my pet is not in his true nature, our relationship will change. It may, very likely, end in that case, as Bear is in no way okay with non-exclusive relationship arrangements. And if that’s what needs to happen so we can both live true to ourselves, then that will be more than okay: It’ll be necessary and good.

I do hope that’s not how this ends, of course, and that Bear is most true to himself by being dominant. That’d be amazing. Also, truthfully, the easiest way forward. A breakup after 18 years together would hurt, and might get quite messy.

On the orgasm control side of things, the daily check-ins and touchpoints help a lot. I find that I crave that positive reinforcement more than I crave orgasm. I want to hear that “good boy” from Bear at the end of the day. I’ve been edging (getting myself close to orgasm and then not coming), and yesterday, with my body wanting release oh-so-very-badly, my own voice pops into my head and says “No! No!” sharply, followed by “Be a good boy.” And I was, and stopped before I came; and when I later told Bear about it, he smiled and praised me. Ah. Bliss.



Begging for it

We were going to run out to see the Germany – Brazil game (also: HOLY FUCK). In the driveway, I had one of those “too horny to stand” moments. A sudden surge of need and pleasure that has me struggling not to moan, and so I braced forwards against the car for a moment. “Are you OK?” Bear inquired. I told him I was fine.

Once in the car and on our way to wings and futbol, I told Bear what I had felt. He chuckled, then he told me that he was surprised when I had shared my fantasy about not coming until Thanksgiving, or our next anniversary. His birthday or our anniversary is what I had mentioned, actually, but close enough.

I explained to him that I was curious what long-term denial would feel like. That I was hot and bothered by the thought of coming just through being fucked by him. Not that I know that’s possible, I hastened to add. But I’d love to find out whether it’s possible. As long, you know, as I’m not going to get into trouble if I come by being fucked.

“Oh no,” Bear said. “If you come through nothing but the stimulation I give you, you’re not going to get punished.”

Well, that’s good to know. And, I explained, I know he loves it when I obey, and I want to give him more of that.

So I asked Bear again whether he preferred that I beg him not to make me come on my birthday, or he prefers that I stay silent and let him make the decision.

“How long has it been now?” he asked.

About 6-and-a-half weeks, I said, as if I didn’t know it to the day.

“And how long will it have been on your birthday?” he asked.

About 8-and-a-half weeks-and-a-bit, I said. Almost nine. Failing to pretend I didn’t know it to the day.

Bear thought for a moment. “I think I’d like it if you begged,” he said. “It emphasizes that it’s my decision whether you come.”

He paused. “You’re not going to be upset if I let you come anyway, are you?”

Now it was my turn to reassure him. “No way,” I said. “I love orgasm. I just love obeying you more.”

So, that’s settled. Come my birthday, I get to beg Bear not to make me come, to let me stay horny longer. And, maybe, he’ll indulge me.



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.


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.




Good boy

I was stroking Bear, pressing myself against him, and when I had him nice and hard, he said “Now that you have me all bothered, you should kneel and suck me off.”
Yes. Yes I should. And so I did, kneeling at the foot of the bed, with my swollen balls pressing into the carpet and my cock straining and then flagging a bit and straining again as I sucked Bear.

After he came, he thanked me, then asked “Did you drip on the carpet?”

I hadn’t. He didn’t tease me or touch me, and in that moment, that was great. I felt very submissive, and very much like I was just there for his pleasure. In the shower, I suggested that he could have said “Good boy” instead of “Thank you”.

“I thought about it,” Bear said. “I didn’t want to lead you on.”

Lead me on?

“I didn’t want you to think you’d be my pet again,” he said. “Not yet.”

I grinned. And Bear said “I saw the twinkle in your eye when I said ‘not yet’.”

Yes, he did see that.


Two weeks ago, we were in bed and Bear said “if you can get me hard, you may suck me.” It had been three weeks since I had last come, and I did not waste any time. I humped his leg and stroked his dick, all a bit over-eager to be sure.

“You seem a bit frantic,” Bear observed.

“Eager,” I replied.

“Well, slow down,” Bear said, and I tried to.

I did slow down some, and I got him hard, and I was allowed to suck him. And while I was doing that, he was masturbating me. Which was intensely pleasurable and sent waves of gratitude through me. I was playing a little game in my head – do I want to come? Do I not want to come? Does he want me to come?

I wasn’t as focused as I should have been, and Bear had to tell me “watch the teeth” and then to “slow down.”

And I did, and as I got him close, I let go of trying to guess what Bear had in mind, and just enjoyed the moment and decided that whatever he wanted, I’d be grateful for it.

I didn’t come, because Bear had experimented with grip and used a way to stroke me that is not likely to get me off. While I know I’d have been grateful for coming, I was glad I didn’t. I do want to know what it is like to go longer than three weeks.

In the shower, while I was scrubbing him, Bear took me to task. “You need to learn to not let your eagerness get in the way of focusing on my pleasure,” he said. And he was right. I am glad he felt comfortable correcting me, and I took the lesson to heart.

Week 4

It turns out that while the first two, and to an extent the third, week of denial can be tumultuous for me, coastal waters with waves of feeling extremely horny and short periods of calm, there are calmer waters waiting. The fourth week, I felt horny and eager to please Bear, to be sure, but not frantic or desperate. I’d come when he wanted me to, and whether that was now or weeks in the future was both equally good by me.

On the weekend of the fourth week, I remarked to Bear that we were close to a month – and that his birthday wasn’t so far off, either. He liked that idea and started singing “happy birthday to me” to himself.

A day later, he told me he had second thoughts. “I’ll come when you want me to,” I said. “Why is it you’re thinking of letting me come now?”

Because while he liked the idea of having me wait until his birthday, it had never been this long for me, he explained. He was worried he was pushing me too far.

I reassured him he wasn’t. That I enjoyed this very much, and felt immensely grateful for getting the chance to experience what denial past the initial tumult of needing to come right fucking now dammit feels like.

And so we continued with denial. I am starting to see how people can go months without orgasm, or even a year and longer. It’s a view hazy with distance, to be sure, but I can grok what someone might get out of such play, and how it can become entirely acceptable to say “I’ll come next when you want me to, even if that means never.”

Not that I’m anywhere close to that. A few weeks does not a year make.

Good boy, again

One night the following week, Bear said to me “Good boy,” out of the blue. Hmm?, I inquired. “You’re doing such a good job being obedient,” he said. I felt happy, and submissive, and very, very excited. I couldn’t get to sleep for a half hour because I was so hard it distracted me.

This weekend, looking forward to an orgasm that I will likely be given in less than a week, I told Bear that if he wanted to really treat me, he could, where he usually has me come the first time I am close, back me off instead, get me close repeatedly, and then let me come.

“Why is that?” he asked.

I explained that I really enjoyed being denied. That I liked the physical sensation of being denied, and that I kinked pretty hard on being close and then not coming.

I think Bear’s considering the idea. I’ll see. It’s been five weeks, and in a little bit, unless he changes his mind, I’ll come. I’m looking forward to it, at the same time that there’s a part of me that says “you could just keep going to Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, you know.”



Orgasm Control: Everyone should try it

That heading there is tongue-in-cheek. I think people should do what is right for them, and that varies widely. But, you know, it seems that orgasm control is trending right now. Read on.

My therapist approves of D/s in general, and orgasm control in particular. Discussing my sex life with her is not something I had expected to do. The topic came up in the context of some tensions between myself and Bear, and so I found myself relating our morning breakfast ritual – which is that I serve breakfast to Bear in bed, naked and kneeling, and he teases me  – and the fact that I come about every 3 weeks. She seemed a bit puzzled at first. She asked a few times how I felt about it all. She asked whether I was frustrated or resentful. I am not, quite the opposite, and so, since I am quite happy with this play, and Bear is, and it is a daily touch point of intimacy and love for us, she approves. And gave me a big hug as I was about to leave.

I still think that was more than just a little strange. Says the man who blogs about his sex life publicly.

And then, just to drive home that orgasm control is about as kinky as wearing shoes with blue soles (which are snazzy, by the way), Psychology Today publishes a piece that talks about pair-bonding, fidelity, oxytocin, and sex. Oxytocin, if you’re unfamiliar with it, is a hormone that creates those happy fuzzy feelings of attachment security and, if in the right mindset, devotion to a partner. It is released with physical touch, intimate talk, sex, and other pair-bonding activities. In men, it is also greatly diminished with orgasm, together with dopamine, its cousin that creates feelings of joy and sexual desire.

The new finding about oxytocin – and do read the article – is that men dosed with it keep a greater distance to attractive females. And so Psychology Today, or rather this author writing in Psychology Today, recommends that couples experiment with Karezza. If oxytocin is good, more oxytocin is better (as long as naturally produced – nasal sprays have nasty side effects), and since oxytocin is diminished with orgasm: Don’t orgasm.

Which is not the first time Psychology Today has gone there. First it’s described as the “ultimate sex hack”, now as the way to bring fidelity and harmony into your relationship. Karezza is sex without orgasm – for the man. The woman may come as much as she likes. Which sounds a lot like kinky orgasm control, minus the “I am doing this because she wants me to” bits. Which then makes it completely vanilla orgasm control. It’s good to know such a thing exists, and I am no longer sure there is even a distinction between a vanilla and a D/s relationship, unless one insists on that distinction. To me, it all increasingly just looks like points on the vast scale that is “normal.”

The Daily Telegraph, just yesterday, declared Karezza the new trend in sexual relations, reviving couples’ sex lives across the nation. It “improves health and restores relationships”, gushes the DT. Which takes this practice firmly out of the realm of Fetlife, and into the mainstream. Which fairly blows my mind. I like it.

So, orgasm control: Try it. But call it Karezza. It lends it an extra air of mystery, and makes it much easier to talk about, as well.


Git, dog!

I have been unreasonably horny this past weekend. Horny to the point of waking up every 2 hours, squeezing my balls and handling my cock, and drifting back to light sleep. It left me quite distracted, and desperate for attention from Bear.

Saturday after serving breakfast to Bear, I was hoping for caresses and attention, and none were forthcoming. The dog hopped up on the bed and draped himself across Bear. And I goosed the dog, causing him to jump off the bed again.

“What’d you do that for?” Bear demanded to know. I really had no good answer.

The attention I was hoping for was not happening, and I wasn’t asking. So I got the dog back up on the bed, shoved him over on top of Bear, got up in a bit of a funk declaring “I am taking a shower,” took off the cock ring and placed it on Bear’s night stand, and marched off to the bathroom.

The sad truth is: I was jealous of the dog, and I was not handling it well. I may not be as emotionally mature as I thought I was.

Bear caught my mood, and went after me. We talked. He pointed out that I cannot expect attention. “I guess” I said, with an unspoken “but” in there. I explained that I had been so very horny, and didn’t know what to do with myself. He told me that he had been feeling crummy that morning, and just wanted to snuggle the dog for a bit. He told me that he appreciated me being horny, that he liked it, even when he was not in the mood for doing anything about it. I felt loved. And like a selfish ass.

Then he asked the obvious question: “Why didn’t you ask for attention?”
I am afraid to annoy Bear. And I have, in the past. When I ask for something, and get an annoyed reaction, it really screws with my emotional state. I feel rejected in those moments, so I avoid that by not asking. And I didn’t quite know what caused Bear to be annoyed.

Bear told me it was semantics. If I ask “can you,” he’s okay by it. If I ask “could you” or “would you,” he feels more expectation and pressure, and that annoys him. I don’t get the distinction: To me, those are all equivalent ways of saying the same thing. I’d actually view “could you” as a more tentative way of asking.
And I can change the way I ask for things, now that I know this semantic fine point. And so far, for all of two days, it’s been working fine. Over time,  I should lose the fear of annoying Bear when I ask for stuff, and that will improve my communication to him tremendously. Hopefully, that’s how that will go.

The next day, on Sunday morning, Bear came down to the kitchen before I could serve him breakfast in bed, so I served it to him in the dining room. Egg and diced tomato, spicy, on tostada. For a recipe off the back of a bottle of steak sauce, it was quite tasty.

A bit later, we went back up the bedroom. I caressed him through his boxers until he told me to take them off, then I stroked him directly, immensely enjoying the chance to give him pleasure. Bear had me get the warming lube, and then he fucked me, and I whimpered and moaned and left a wet spot of precum on the sheets. After, I asked to be masturbated, and he declined. Then we slept for a few hours.

Around noon, I woke up, and started idly stroking the top of my shaft. Bear woke up too, we said Hi, we kissed. After a bit, he got some lube and took my cock in his hand and gave me full strokes.

Bliss. Pure, thoughtless pleasure, and a feeling of deep gratitude. I moaned, I wriggled, I humped his fist. And I got close pretty quickly, and let him know by squeezing his wrist and saying “Close.”

He continued stroking me. That was unexpected. It had been 16 days, and lately, he hasn’t allowed me to come that early. I clenched all my muscles, trying not to come. After about another five strokes, feeling the pressure build up in my balls and in my perineum, I said “I won’t be able to hold it much longer”.

“It’s okay,” Bear said. “You can let go.”

And I came. Panting and then with little groans of “ow.” I came so hard my balls ached and my perineum felt sore.

It was nice to be able to go about my day without constantly thinking of my dick, after that. For about 4 hours, when I started getting horny again. I thought about orgasm, and how often I come. Two years ago, I came every 2 to 3 days, by my own hand. Now, I come maybe every 20 days or so, if the past eight weeks are any indication. Over a year, I figured, I’d have something like 17 to 18 orgasms. But far from feeling frustrated, I felt that Bear was being quite indulgent letting me come that often. I told him so, and he got a laugh out of it.

The next day, Monday, I felt as horny as I usually do about a week into our play. Maybe that’ll be the “new normal” now: I may become horny to the point of distraction, and be “reset” by orgasm to just feeling very horny, without a days-long period of feeling sated after orgasm.

I love that thought. Mainly because Bear keeps telling me that what he loves about orgasm control is how horny it makes me. So if I can come and be very horny again the next day, that’s just great. I expect that the way I react to orgasm and orgasm control will vary from week to week or month to month. I am thinking of the recent times when I “lost my mojo.” And I am thinking that when I lose my mojo, it’s not because I came: It’s because something’s amiss between Bear and me, like the argument we had over male privilege and how it shapes judgment and viewpoint.

On Monday, when serving Bear his breakfast, he said: “You are getting quite good at this.” I looked at him. “You have my coffee just right, my oatmeal just right, and the muffins the way I like them. You’re getting good.” he said. And I got rock-hard, hearing that praise. Breakfast as kinky play. Who knew.

I have started to browse Tumblr, and put my own collection of Smut together, which is now linked at the top of this blog. Some of it is arty, and some of it decidedly not so. It’s a collection of pictures I like. I could re-blog Thumper’s Tumblr in entirety, but that’s pointless, so I’ll just link it. He has a great eye for beautiful porn.

Ah, a side note on prostate milking: We did try that around the 10-day mark. I felt rather daft, lying there with a vibrator up my butt and my dick limp. Some fluid came out, but not a whole lot, and Bear eventually told me to shut the vibrator off. We may try again. That technique may need practice.

What I’ve been reading

I, for one, welcome our robotic communist jobless future at the Register. I think the author misses a point: Housing and cost of land, and cost of fuel and thus travel. I don’t think that everything will be so cheap that we’ll just need a token job to afford it. I do think that a jobless future may well be ahead for us, and I think that the transition to this “post scarcity” model is going to be quite rough. I think some form of re-distributing wealth is going to have to be used. Maybe through socialist means of heavy taxation and government-sponsored jobs. And maybe through market forces: I’ve seen a suggestion to let go of all pretensions to online privacy, and put in a system of micro-payments for access to consumer behavior data. Micro payments to that consumer. We’d be paid to be consumers, which would allow us to consume more. Somewhere that model sounds like it could never sustain itself, but maybe with some tweaks, it can work.

We need to have that conversation, maybe even as a side note on a sex blog. We have time – decades upon decades – to figure it out. And I really think we’ll “run out of stuff to do,” at least stuff to do that produces things that then are sold and so allows people to get paid.

Policy changes to deal with that won’t happen until long after they needed to happen. But maybe, if we keep talking about it and observing the shape of things, it won’t come as a complete surprise if we do get to 50 or 75 percent unemployment.