Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Can I manipulate you?!?

Driving to work this morning, I was doing some thinking. By a show of hands, those of you reading this, who likes to receive a bare handed spanking? Nice. Ok, put your hands down. Now, raise your hand if you like to administer bare handed spankings. I am with you there. Ok, now, by a show of hands who likes to receive a good paddling? OH YEAH!!!! Ok, by a show of hands, who thinks I am now manipulating you to raise your hand? Damn skippy. You are submitting to me through my words. Oh, don’t sit there and say, “Nope, not me. You’re not making me doing anything.” Yea ok. Sure. Right. If you say so. Oh and do me a favor. Stop rolling your eyes at me. Yes you. You too.

I was thinking oh how easy people can be manipulated. I admit, I am easily manipulated, when I am blindsided by it. Think about this. When you go to the store, and you’re standing in line waiting to check out and you hear “I can take you over here.” Or “My lane is open.” Or what about when you sit down at a restaurant and the server suggests a drink of choice. Or when you attend a meeting or reading someone’s blog and they are asking you questions and ask for you to raise your hand to show agreement. See, manipulated. It’s ok to admit it. I will keep it my little secret. Store it away in the vault inside my mind. However, I do reserve the right to use it against you at a later date. What? Not fair? Honey, the last time I checked life isn’t fair. Besides, you and I both know, if I am going to use something against you, it is going to be mutually beneficial to us both. Right? See, manipulated you again. It’s all about perception babe. Ok, maybe it is not manipulation per se when you are asked a question and you answer. But when you are asked a question and steered towards a certain answer, then yes, you are being manipulated.

I used to know a sub lady who I met through the internet. Our relationship was purely internet based. We met in a chat room, struck up conversations and developed a good friendship. Oh, and she is submissive. So, after a while we exchanged phone numbers and started calling one another on the phone quite frequently. She would tell me about her man/Dom problems. I would tell her about my girl/sub problems. We would discuss current affairs, the weather. Whether wood or leather made a better paddle etc. One thing she always told me was I had a great phone voice. I knew this from being in high school and a lot of the girls swooning over me because of my deep baritone voice. She told me that Barry White was a soprano compared to me. Would any of you ladies like to find out yourself? WEG!!!!

One night we were on the internet chatting away and flirting with one another and before I knew it, we were on the phone partaking in some phone sex. Some good phone sex I might add. So here I am telling her things I would do to her, telling her a little story and she is moaning to me on the phone. And me being the mean bastard I am, I ordered her to stop rubbing her clit, which she claims she did. As she was calming down, instructed her to rub some more. Having her stop and start many more times, this went on for about 30 minutes or so. I asked her if she ever had her clit spanked and she moaned into the phone that she loved it. Deepening my voice into a growl, I told her to spank it three times. A soft moan escaped her lips and I then told her I was not happy with those. Then I told her to spank it like I would spank it. The next thing I hear is 3 hard skin on skin slaps, and then a woman moaning and cumming into the phone. Did she really slap her clit? Well, I would think yes. Only she could tell you. But listening to her and her reaction, I truly don’t think she did NOT do it.

Manipulation is a strong and powerful thing. We all do it to some point. Subconsciously we all are manipulating and being manipulated. Yes even a Dom like me gets manipulated. It happens. It is a fact of life. Sometimes it is personal, sometimes it is professional. But it does happen. I am not telling you this so you can strengthen you wall and prevent yourself from being manipulated. I am simply opening your eyes and trying to get you to have a better understanding.

I might say things, or do things for personal satisfaction. Maybe manipulate someone into getting an answer I want or need to hear, but that doesn’t make me a bad person. It just makes me a better manipulator than you.

Seriously though, all joking aside, I truly believe it is part of our psyche to want some aspect of control in our life. Manipulation is how it happens. Maybe it is the server asking you if you want coffee, tea or her. Maybe it is a Dom who wants an ego boost or a submissive who manipulates a Dom into getting a spanking. Whatever it is, manipulation is part of us. Don’t deny it. Accept it, harness its power, and use it to your advantage. Just be careful who you try to manipulate, because they might manipulate you in return for themselves.

Thanks for allowing me to manipulate your eyes and your mind while reading my blog. I know I enjoyed it. I hope it was good for you too.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Tucker

I am writing this with a lot of pain in my heart and soul. Yesterday I did a terrible thing that 36 hours later I am still in pain. Even have some regrets. Morally I don’t think I should have done it. Morally I NEEDED to do it. There comes a time in life when you have to do what is best for someone else. Again, morally it is wrong but morally it is right.

I am talking about have a pet put down because their health is not good. Yesterday morning about 5am I woke to the sound of my dog shaking after waking. Usually the second or third thing I do after I wake up is walk to the bathroom and take a leak. So naturally, like father like son, my dog followed the same habit. Usually he would wake, stretch out his body, shake and then take a leak. So, by the time I hear the shake, I have just a few seconds to get to him and guide him outside to go “pottie”

Tucker boy as I called him was a rescue dog. About 5 years ago a lady brought him to my house to determine if I would be a fit father to have a dog. She checked out the house, made sure there were no little kids around, noticed I had a back yard that was fenced in and chatted with me to make sure I was not some satan worshiper who would sacrifice the dog for a chance at a blonde blue eyed virgin. Satisfied all was well with my house, I wrote a check to her rescue for Tucker and this Tucker became a part of me. His first night in my home was spent doing some whimpering and whining, a lot of walk around to check the place out and a lot of trips outside to train him to piss there instead of on the carpet inside.

The next 4 years were great. A lot of laughter, anger and even car rides, sometimes just around the block for the hell of it. Some of the best times with Tucker were spent throwing a ball and watching him chase it down, bring it back to me and fighting me for it. Then tossing it again and repeating. Tucker didn’t care for toys that squeaked or jingled. Hell, I bought him raw hide bones and toys he wouldn’t even touch. One night I was playing with him, held the ball in my hand, made a fist and put my fist on the floor. Next thing I knew, tucker was lying on his belly and then rolling over. Laughing at it, I held the ball in the air and he started jumping for it. Then I put my fist back on the floor, Tucker immediately went to his belly and then rolled over. Whoever had Tucker before me had taught him a trick. Working with him, he knew how to sit, how to beg, even play dead. He was such a wonderful dog. I taught him my favorite trick and that was having him sit, then holding his snout in place, commanding him to stay. I would take a treat and put it on his snout, again commanding him to stay. I would move my hand and while he stared at the treat, he would not move a muscle. Then on cue, I would say get it and he would instantly jerk his head to the side and catch the treat before it hit the floor. Damn I loved playing with him.

About 18 months ago, I noticed that when tucker would go to his food or water bowl to drink, his back legs would shake. The vet later said that Tucker was getting old and he had arthritis. Not much to do. So I put him on the old fart dog food, you know, the food for seniors, in hopes it would help with his joint pain. The next thing to go with Tucker was his eye sight. The vet now tells me he had cataracts so bad in his eyes, he was practically blind. Many times Tucker would walk himself into a corner, bump into walls or chairs or whatever was in the way. Tossing the ball was not a thing of the past with him because he did not know when I threw it.

This is hard for me to type. I am sitting here wiping the tears from my eyes remembering the good and bad times with him. The pictures I took of him while he slept with his tongue hanging out, or laying half way out of his bed while he slept. There were times I would gently nudge him back into his bed and he would groan slightly and continue his snoring. Now I look at is empty bed right here beside my recliner and ask God to forgive me for having him put to sleep.

I had to do it. His quality of life was nil. In the past few months, Tucker wouldn’t even get out of bed, or even sit up before he would pee all over himself. Yesterday morning at 5am, hearing him shake and his collar jingle, I sprung from bed and rushed into the living room to help him outside. Instead what I found was Tucker lying in the kitchen on the tile floor. Lying in his own feces. He didn’t even have the strength to get up and do his business. Instead, with his head in his water bowl and his body covered in feces, his tongue was searching in his empty water bowl for a few drops of moisture. I knew at that point his quality of life was very poor. I picked him up in my arms and took him to the bathtub to give him one final bath. To bath him one final time. I made sure he was clean from head to toe. Bathed him twice just to be sure. Picking up in my towel, I brought him into the living room and proceeded to dry him off from his bath. Taking his brush, combing his bear and and fur, I cried because I knew that this would be my final hours with him.

At 7:45 I gently picked him up, walked out of the house to my car and gently laid him in the front seat. Making the drive to the vet, I gently stroked him on his head and down his back. His blind eyes looking in my direction, he knew where we were going. His eyes pleaded with me to not do it. To let him die at home and in peace. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow myself to watch and let him suffer like that. Leaving him in the car, I walked into the vet office and the lady behind the counter knew why I was there the instant she saw me without Tucker. Without saying a word she handed me a consent form and asked me if I wanted to stay with him. All I could do was shake my head. I couldn’t do it. I went back to the car, picked Tucker up in my arms for the last time and walked back inside. Cradling him in my arms, I rubbed his chest and belly one final time before she took him from me. Before she walked away, I kissed him one final time on his dry nose, removed his collar and watched her walk away with my little buddy.

As the door closed, I imagined him closing his eyes and taking one final deep breath knowing what was to come. As I the door clicked shut, I spoke out loud to Tucker one final time telling him I loved him and asking him to forgive me.

I miss you Tucker. I love you Tucker. I hope you have forgiven me little buddy. I pick up his collar one final time as I close this out, give it a jingle and call out, “Tucker bud, let’s go outside.”

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Ramblings

So here I sit reading my own blog hoping for some inspiration to write and I just can not find it. Lately I have been driving down the road or someplace where I do not have access to a computer or a note pad and a subject will enter my head that would make a good blog post. But I end up forgetting. I am too young to be forgetting things. Maybe it is all those hits to the head when I played football.

I was reading about concussions a few years ago and one of the symptoms of a concussion is blurry vision and a head ache. So, when I visited the doctor for a check up, I was asking him questions about it. He confirmed that is true, then started asking me questions if I had a concussion, taken a blow to the head etc. I said sure, when I was in high school. LOL. I told him, that I played my entire football career with a concussion if headaches and blurry vision is a symptom of it. I always had a concussion. Maybe that explains my forgetfulness. Now, don’t think you can try to pull something over on me and when I say I don’t remember, you are not allowed to say it must be your concussion and forgetfulness. Not going to work.

Last night I was working out and I was talking to my sadistic trainer. I told him last night I thought he was a sadist and all he could do was laugh. Now I wonder if he is in the lifestyle because he never really commented anymore about it. Then again, because he didn’t comment, maybe he is NOT. As a matter of fact, there is a good excuse why I haven’t blogged much lately. My arms are too sore and tired from working out. Yea. YEA!!! That’s it. That’s the excuse. LOL. Last night while working out, there was a young female working out with another trainer that kept catching my eye. She had one of those asses that you could bounce a bowling ball off of. Nice, round, firm and plush. YUM YUM!!! Guess where my mind was? Yes, that’s right. My mind was in my head. You win a treat. Good job.

I ran into a friend from the lifestyle a couple of weeks ago at the store. We chatted about life in and out of the bedroom. Conversation drifted to scenes and paddlings. She told me her hubby was making paddles out of metal. Me being the freak that I am asked for a couple. I am waiting on my order to be filled. A nice metal paddle. I can not wait to use one on a sub.

Not too long, but very short. Just some ramblings in my head today to appease those of you who are thinking “I haven’t seen a post from him in a while.” Well, here ya go. Enjoy. And yes I am talking about you. Yes you, the one chuckling and thinking he must be talking about someone else. I am talking to you. Yes you. I love getting into peoples heads and making them smile for no reason what so ever. Only think I love more, is getting in their head and watching the cringe and curse themselves for letting me into their heads.

I am going to be a rebel today and not proof read nor spell check. Damn, I am such a wild hellion. LOL

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Why is it so hard for people to accept my generosity, my sincerity and my honesty? I tend to do for others before doing for me. I am very sincere when I tell you that I wish you the best, or good luck, or I am here for you. And my honesty, although brutal at times, is just that. Honest. I tend to not sugar coat things. I call it like I see it. Take it or leave it.

I know, doing for others is perceived as not that great of a quality for a mainstream Dominant. Dominants are supposed to take take take take. And not give give give. Well, let me share something with you. Whether you are Dominant or submissive, is requires give AND take. Take AND give. Equal amounts of it. It’s just that when you don’t have a submissive of your own, it is hard to take. Know what I mean? I know how to be a great friend. I know how to keep my mouth shut and listen. I even know how to leave the lines in the carpet after vacuuming and I know to put the toilet seat down. But don’t even think for one minute, my generosity, or my sincerity is fake or a fa├žade that is being put up because I have an ulterior motive.

It is very unfortunate for Dominants and men like me to get ahead anymore because of all the fakes and wannabes out there. The ones who do have an agenda or an ulterior motive to get into your pants, or beat you, or abuse you have ruined it for the good ones like my self. I have to work that much harder at opening doors and softening walls that submissives have put up or locked because of idiots that have come before me and left behind scars on them. Instead of taking the time to get to know someone, laugh with them and learn about what makes that person unique from everyone else, we spend time knocking on doors, asking to come in. Or spend time staring at that tall wall that has been built and shaking our head truly asking ourselves, “Is it worth it trying to get to know this person when it is an uphill battle just to say hi, how are you?”

Same goes for submissives trying to get to know a Dominant. Dominants have been battered and bruised by players or wannabes. People will say and do just about anything to get what they want. I admit I have in the past. But once the smoke has cleared, I realized that what I did was wrong and should have gone about it a different way. I have learned that patience is a virtue and I exercise that. Those of you that read this blog and know me personally can agree with me. I amaze myself sometimes at how patient I have become. I have learned from my mistakes, grown from them and have made myself stronger.

I also admit I have walls up. But they are walls to protect myself. Not walls to hide me and who I am. Its ok to have walls and doors. It is ok to keep those doors shut, maybe even locked. It is ok to have walls. Even acceptable to reinforce those walls when under attack. But leave yourself some peepholes so you can peek out and actually see who is there. Because if you don’t, that person will eventually give up and move on.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Secret Sorrow

By a show of hands, how many of you knew someone who took their own life. Not someone you read or heard about. I mean someone personally. Someone you were buds with. Someone you were close to. Someone who after it happened, you actually said to yourself. “I could have stopped them from doing that?”

I say that because I know of 2 people personally who have taken their own lives and there isn’t a day that goes by that they do not enter my mind, and immediately I think, what could I have done?

The first person was a neighbor to my mom. He and his wife were in their mid 50’s and he had taken early retirement from the govt. Granted this was 1994 or so. I was always helping them with something. Once he bought a playground set for his grandkids and needed help picking it up and putting it together. That was a fun couple of weeks and a couple of hammered fingernails. Another time he was rebuilding his deck. Then there was the cookout on Labor Day when they invited mom, sister and my self over. Got to meet their 2 kids, watch the grandkids on the playground and I even learned a couple of grilling secrets from him. That winter I would shovel his driveway for him if it needed it. Even watched their dog when they went to visit their kids at Christmas. Come the next spring, I noticed he had parked his truck at an odd angle in this driveway and had covered the windows of his truck. I asked mom what he was doing and she thought maybe he was going to repaint his truck. I went over, knocked on the front door of the house but there was no answer. Not thinking anything of it, I made a mental note to check back the next day. As I crossed his yard, I walked within 20 feet of his truck and noticed that something didn’t seem right. The next day, mom called me to tell me the coroner, police and firemen were at his house. Seems what he did was run a hose from his exhaust to his window which was opposite of the road and houses, got in his truck and started the motor. He let the truck run killing himself until the truck ran out of gas. His wife said he sat in the truck for 2 days until she returned from a trip with a friend. And to think, I walked within 20 feet of him.

The second person I knew was a brief co-worker. I had known him for about a year when he came to work with the company I work for. However, due to some legality issues with a non-compete, his stay was short. But we stayed in touch. Played some golf. Drank a lot of beer. Even gave each other shit over our favorite sports teams. The last I spoke with him, he was telling me about this girl that he was crazy about. He was going to ask her to marry him. Already had the ring. They were going out the next night and he was going to pop the question. We had made plans to celebrate and I had mentioned a Vegas trip for the bachelor party. A couple of days later he called me saying she said no and she left his ass. He was very upset about this. Was actually even crying. Talking to him for the next couple of hours, the thought entered my head a couple of times wondering if he would try to end his life. When I hung up the phone, he seemed to be calming down and was even talking of still going to Vegas to blow off some steam. Two days later, I got an email from some chic and she mentioned in a round about way if anyone had pictures of him that she could use to make a collage for his parents. She had sent it from her work email, so in her signature was her cell. I immediately called her and when I told her who I was, she started crying and said he isn’t with us anymore. When I asked why, she said he took his own life. At the funeral his parents couldn’t open the casket. Because he put the gun to the side of his head and pulled the trigger. And I failed to ASK him if he was considering ending his life.

I say this because recently I came across a saying that has made me stop and think. I don’t know who wrote it, but it goes as follows.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not. Often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

I read that and froze. And in a flash, the lives of these 2 men I knew flashed before my eyes. To someone we have and/or can make a difference in their lives. The next time that situation comes up, will you try to make that difference? I know I will.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Readers Comment

Below is a comment that was published about don’t challenge me. I want to say that I do enjoy and treasure feedback and comments like this. Am I upset with this comment? Not at all. I love reading your opinions and even more so, treasure the fact that someone does have a different view and opinion from me. Nothing wrong with expressing it and I encourage everyone else to express theirs either in comments to me or anything else. I will not hold you back nor condemn you for sharing and expressing. Below her comment is my response.


Maybe it's not about limit's..she's a new submissive NOT experienced. I've found that some submissive's generally have low self esteem, not all but some. Shaking your ass at a BDSM club like a piece of meat when you have low self body image(and new to the scene) isn't about limit's ..it's about how they view themselves. Before you say she's hot and thin.Think for a minute, how it's not about YOUR view, it's hers. Of course a new submissive is going to say she has no limit's. How can someone new to BDSM experience everything kink has to offer too even know what her limit's are. She would have to be open, experience it for herself and then decide what kind of limit to place, if any at all. For you to think it was even a challenge to you or about you, when she said she wouldn't dance for her Dom. is so arrogant. Then you belittle her and make her cry?? great way for you to treat people and a good way to ruin a new submissive. She hasn't changed for her Dom. because of your put downs(more arrogance on your part) Congratulations! You've just reinforced her views on her body image and made it even lower than before if that's even possible. ps challenge you.. no, first off you would have to be worthy of a challenge (flicks lint off my shoulder and quirks my left eyebrow)

Well lil poppet, why dont you tell us how you feel. I sense some anger in your post. Let me start by saying, you are right. It is not about me. Arrogance? Of course. Dont we all have and express some? Just some have and express more than others. It is what makes us unique. Right? However, let me say this. You were not there to see this. Well, maybe you were. I dont know. I can tell you this though. I did not belittle her. I did not put her down. I taught her a lesson. Her Dom and her both see this and understand this. The lesson learned was that we all have limits and it was arrogance on her part to say she had no limits. Sometimes you have to knock someone off their perch and then pick them up to help them see this, learn from it and grow. The only thing I reinforced with her was the fact that she should think before speaking. If she had self image issues, I dont think she would have been there in the first place.As for saying I must be worthy of a challenge? I am very worthy of one. However, it seems YOU are the one demonstrating some arrogance. Thanks for reading and sharing your view and opinion. I truly did enjoy it and appreciate it very much so.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

A personal note

So it’s been a few weeks since I have posted on here. I have started many but just could not get my mind to settle down and finish. Here the past few months it seems my mind is going in a million different directions. Work has been beyond crazy. Outside of work has been very busy with the new part time job that I now have.

I have a huge love for football. As far as I am concerned it is one of, if not THE greatest sport out there. For the past 10 years I was a football coach, molding and developing the future football stars to be seen on the fields of battle on Saturdays and Sundays. This year, I decided to take a different approach and become a football official. Holy cow. What a rush. I thought coaching was fun, being an official is even more fun. Last night I had a game and was actually throwing myself into the middle of some extra curricular activity that was taking place AFTER the whistle had blown. For those of you who are not sports oriented, that means players from the opposite sides of the ball decided to have some not so friendly words, do some shoving amongst one another and sometimes take a swing at someone. So here I am, right in the middle, no helmet or pads like these young men are wearing and I am breaking them up and separating them. Some of you have met me and know how big and strong I am. HA!!! I don’t compare to these young men, yet I jump in and do my best to keep from getting punched. I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!

I have also started working out with a personal trainer. Check a previous post about being a masochist. Well, just to give you an update, the intensity and the pain has been amped up. Seems I am improving, getting stronger, more stamina and I am asking for more. What a fucking idiot I am. The last time I went, it was 30 minutes on the elliptical, which by the way, when I first started I could not go 5 minutes without some sort of pain that would cause me to stop for a breather. Now I am going 30 minutes non stop. The burn and heat radiating from my thighs is so intense, I swear you could fry bacon and eggs on them. The other day he had me doing some sort of press with my arms on this machine. After the first one I stopped. He asked if everything was alright and I said sure. The next thing that escaped my lips was probably the most idiotic thing I have ever said in my life to a man that is considered by me a sadistic evil bastard. “Is that all you have for me? Come on, put more weight on there and let’s work out.” DUMB ASS!!!!!! Next thing I know we now have 200 pounds instead of 100 pounds on the bar and I am to bust out 3 sets of 10. So, I tell myself, no problem. DUMB ASS!!!!! After 5, I am grunting and straining and thinking and then saying DUMB ASS!!!!!! That’s 200 pounds on each arm, and it is a one arm press away from my body. DUMB ASS!!!!!! I finished my 30 and walked to get a drink of water. I couldn’t even lift up my arm to push the water fountain button. Laugh it up fuckers. Go ahead. I am so glad that I can amuse and humor you. HA HA!!

Let’s see, what else is going on? Oh, I have a birthday coming up. Normally I wouldn’t mention it. I am not one to ask for gifts, expect some celebration or anything like that. But damn it, I have reached the end of my always doing for others and not expecting or wanting anything in return. So now, for fucks sake, I want others to do for me. You know what I mean. I want a party. I want everyone to buy me drinks on my birthday. I want presents. I think I am going to create a wish list and post on here. If anyone wants to get me a gift, I will gladly give you an address to send it to. No obligation of course. I am not that greedy. Well, except for fig Newton’s. DON’T TOUCH MY FIG NEWTONS YOUR BASTARD!!!!!

I mentioned my mind is going in a million different directions. Well, here are just some ramblings that are going on behind closed doors. Well great, now that I am going to type those thoughts out, those fucking voices in my head have decided to lie down and take a nap. WAKE UP FUCKERS, YOU AINT GETTING OFF THAT FUCKING EASY!!! Damn, I hear crickets in my head. It’s just a star filled clear sky in my head, out in a field, crickets chirping, and soft wind rustling though the tall grass. An owl off in the distance hootie hoots. Damn I wish I were there now. I would throw my head back, close my eyes. Stretch my arms out to my side. Palms up and take the deepest breath. And then let out a howl that would make the werewolf himself cringe.

Recently, I have realized who my true friends are. And I have realized that I have very few friends. A whole lot less than I realized. I am not going to dwell on the negativity of this. And I don’t want to sound self centered or selfish. But if you’re going to tell someone you are their friend, then by all means, be that friend. You don’t always have to be at their beck and call, but if someone reaches out to you, then offer them a hand to grab a hold of. People come and go in life. Doors open and they close. To me, I live in a world with no doors. At least I don’t want doors. I might keep you at arms length, or not respond to a text, email or message, but that does not mean I have closed and locked a door on you. I might come across as a cold hearted bastard, but when you peel the many layers of harden skin, knock down the numerous walls, you will learn I am really a softie. But I still know what’s going on. I still keep tabs on you or you, and even you. But I will not intervene, or step toward you not because I am one that wants to be approached. But because I am one to keep my distance and observe.

So, I hope everyone has learned a little about me today. Hope you learned about the man that I am outside of BDSM. I have given you a peak into my personal life. With that said, I want to personally thank you for reading.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Mistakes and owning them

Recently I started conversing with a young woman here in town. So far on the phone and via text we seem to have some chemistry, share common interest in the same things both kink and vanilla which is a great thing. Yesterday as I was leaving work she was telling me about another Dom who has been after her and he will not take no for an answer. She went on to tell me she met him once and there just was no chemistry between them and she had been telling him to stop contacting her. However he seems he will not take no for an answer. So being the Domly one that I am, and seeing how her and I seem to be moving in the right direction, in an instant I instructed her to contact him and say “Fuck off.” She giggled slightly and I said in my stern Dom voice (ok all you subbie readers, stop giggling, you are ruining my train of thought here. I mean it, don’t make me… I will…. I am serious…. I’LL TAKE MY BELT OFF DAMN IT!!! Better, now sit still and keep your lips zipped) “Do you hear me laughing? I am very serious. Tell him to FUCK OFF! Better yet, give me his fucking number and I WILL tell him to FUCK OFF!!!”

At that point I could feel her sense of being change instantly. We just crossed over from the “get to know one another” stage to the “I AM DOM, HEAR ME ROAR like a kitten.” I hear more giggling damn it. In an instant she went from a bubbly, laughing, giggling, out going woman to a submissive so in need of control, discipline, structure and safety. Her reply, although some what hesitant, was a simple, “Yes Sir.” And of course, me being the nice Domly one that I am, (side stepping the lightening bolt), I replied good girl.

So, here I am feeling all powerful, Domly, and excited for this girl, I hurry off to exercise my masochist self with the Sadist from the bowels of hell trainer that I am paying. My work out was very good. I even asked him if he enjoyed inflicting the pain on me. So, after my hour of absorbing pain and putting my body through hell, I picked up my phone and find a couple of text messages from this girl. She was telling me she messed up at work today and got in trouble. I texted asking what she did, she told me then made another comment that it was not that big of a deal and does not know why her boss made such a fuss over it.

I am not going to keep going into great detail about the next phone conversation, but I believe I made my point with her. Because the only words to pass over her lips were Yes Sir. And several times she said those words.

A couple of points I want to make here about this chain of events. One, why the fuck do people have to be such assholes and not accept that the other person in this equation is not interested in you? This lifestyle is different on some parts, but on other parts it is just like a vanilla relationship. Seriously, lets be adult about it, accept what it is, and move the fuck on. Stop wasting the energy and MY OXYGEN to whine and cry about what do you mean youre not into me? I am into you. Or give me another chance, I can do things differently. Stop being a fucking cry baby, accept it and move on. Other wise I will shove my size 13 foot so far up your ass that the next time you sneeze, it will not be snot and boogers flying from your nose, but toe jam from my foot.

Second is why is it so hard to accept ownership of your mistakes. If you screw up, admit it, fix it, learn from it and move on. Don’t dwell on it. Don’t dance around it and hem and haw about it. Own it, cherish it, love it and try not to do it again. We all are human. We all make mistakes. Some just make them more than others. Not because they are better than you, but because they fix it and don’t make the same mistake twice. If you can learn to fix a mistake as fast as you make it, you can not only improve yourself but it also allows you to move past it and move on. Making mistakes is just part of life. And life is short enough as it is. Do you want to spend what precious time you have in life dwelling on mistakes? I sure as hell don’t.

With that said, I will end this by saying that life is what YOU make of it. Don’t like the way something is going? Change it. Stop whining and bitching about it. Change it. Fix it. Get over it. And get on with your life. Not everyone wants to have to put up with your mistakes. Not everyone wants to put up with your whiney, can not accept no ass. Remember, treat others the way you want to be treated. I hope that when I die, that I am remembered not for the guy who some perceived as an asshole, some hated me because I came across as mean and cold and others just really didn’t care. But I hope I remembered as the guy that was always honest, sometimes brutal, the guy who did not sugar coat things, and the guy at the end of the day was able to be remembered as someone everyone could say, “Ya know, he really wasn’t a bad guy after all.”

Me.

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Ramblings

Seems I have hit a bit of a wall. I have not blogged in a while because I simply can not get anything out of my head and into the computer. I have made several attempts but would lose my train of thought and unable to finish it. I have so many thoughts rambling through my head but I am unable to snag one and expand on it. Maybe it is the stress in life, the lack of a submissive to call my own, or the fact that my vanilla life is in a whirl wind. Maybe a combination of all three. I don’t know. I do know that many of you check here daily in hopes of seeing the next post or next story. For those of you, I apologize.

I do know there are many of you who send me personal emails commenting, complimenting, a few complaints and seeking advice my advice. Thank you for reading, even the complainers. Just so you know, I will try not to blog about the complainers. I do not want to give them their own forum on my blog. I simply tell them that if they do not like my thoughts, opinions or past experiences, they are free to click the red X in the upper right corner and disappear. Although, I think they like to bitch and complaining because they keep coming and reading more. I love how people try to get under my skin just to see if they can push me into a rage. Keep trying fuckers, it aint gonna happen.

With that said, I will comment on something. I have no problem conversing with someone who simply looks to satisfy their kink. I don’t have a problem with texting, calling or emailing with someone to help them get off. However, the problem is this. At least have the fucking courtesy to say “Hey Mr SNS Sir, I don’t mind being a friend, but will you help me get off? Your words excite me. I just really need to cum.” I don’t have a problem with that. Don’t fucking lead me on though and promise me things you have no intentions on falling through with.

On another note, is it bad of me wanting to be a Sugar Daddy to a couple of 20yo young ladies? I mean their bodies are so virgin. So ripe. Their minds are so corruptible. Remember, I have freakdar. I can pick up on things. WEG. I have a friend who told me that if I can get them naked, flog them and turn them into my submissives, that I will forever be crowned the King in his book. I kinda like that. King SNS.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Am I a masochist too?

Recently I started working out with a personal trainer. I thought I was a Sadist and got off on inflicting pain to people. Not everyone mind you, just the slaves who crave some pain. But then again, I can be a sadistic bastard and just fuck with your mind and not actually inflict any pain. I do have SOME masochist’s tendencies in me. For example, I broke my crop on my own leg.

Here is the scene. I have a submissive, bent over a wooden sawhorse. Knees, ankles, elbows and wrists tied to the legs of the saw horse. Ass high in the air. Ball gag in her mouth. I am walking around her teasing her skin with a feather. Swatting her with the crop every so often. Nice little crop prints all over her body. As I walk around I am slapping the side of my calf with the crop at a rapid fire pace. When all of a sudden, the crop swings lighter in my hand and the top of the crop is replaced with the tail of a whip. Looking at the crop, I realize I have just broken the shaft in half and the other end of it has flown some 6-8 feet away from me. What do I do? Reach for another? Grab my wood paddle or spoon? No. I scream out fuck and say I just broke my favorite crop. A moment passes by and the next thing I hear is what I think is a giggle. Looking at said subbie bound to the wooden sawhorse, I see she is shaking. Not shaking from fear, but shaking because she is laughing uncontrollably. Removing the ball gag, I ask her what is so fucking funny. She replies that she has never had a Dom break a crop, especially on himself. One hard slap on her ass fixed that laugh real quick. But quickly she replies, well, if that’s what it takes to get a good ass slap, I will laugh AT you more often. Followed by a giggle. Next followed by my knife. My knife cutting the ropes and setting her free. She pouts. Scene goes on for more, but I wont go into more details yet.

Back to the masochists in me. So, like I said, I have been seeing a personal trainer. And after the first hour long session, I now realize he is one sadistic bastard. The fucker has doing things and working out muscles that I didn’t know existed in the human body. And I got an A in anatomy and physiology in college. Right now, my arms are so sore, I couldn’t pick up a length of rope and tie that submissive to the sawhorse if my life depended on it. My thighs are still burning from the squats on the rack on TUESDAY!!!! 3 days ago. Hell, I bet my cock and balls are probably sore. Just haven’t had to do anything with them to find out if they are able to move. But you know what. DAMN IT FEELS GOOD. And to beat it all, I scheduled appointments 3 weeks out with this guy. Yes, I am masochists as well as Sadists. Just don’t ask me to spank, flog, or even tie you up right now because I just can’t.

Are there any good subbies out there willing to give me a weekend long massage?

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.
(Although right now, the only pain is in MY muscles, will you kiss them for me?)

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Did you fart? Part 2.

This morning I was browsing another blog. This blog belongs to someone who has read mine. Hers is quite interesting, erotic and funny. Funny because I am cruising the title section of her blogs and my eyes freeze in their gaze when I see one titled Fart. Instantly I click on it and before I am half way through it, I am laughing my ass off. So much so, I had to stop reading and wipe the tears from my eyes. Absolutely hilarious to read her little story about the time she farted on her Dom.

So I got to thinking after reading this. Some of the comments she received along with what was happening to her brought up a point. Sometimes you are going to fart while engaged in a sexual activity. You know, fucking? Either a cock or a dildo or even another persons fist inside you can cause air to become trapped, this creating a passing of said air that was trapped between your pussy or ass wall and the object that is being inserted and removed repeatedly in an in and out motion. Get the picture? Most men love pussy farts. Makes them feel empowered when that can cause a woman’s pussy to fart.

I remember being a kid and my step dad laughing so hard from farts I thought he was going to die from lack of oxygen. We would go fishing, I could cut one in the boat and he would lose it. Once we were watching SNL and they did a skit with this doctor who had bottled farts. Holy fuck I had never laughed so hard in my life. I don’t remember if I was laughing at the skit or at him for the way he was laughing. Great memory.

There is a website called fart-sounds.net You should check it out. I have used it before here at the office and made a few people think I have broke wind. Plus there are some awesome videos on there too. Check out the dinosaur fart.

Fart is natures way of releasing built of pressure. Either pressure for all those beans you ate, to the pressure of the Dom’s cock fucking your cunt. A fart is a fart either from your pussy or ass. LOL. Unless of course you do a crop dusting then all bets are off.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears. Unless of course its tears of laughter from farting in my face, in which case you just have a plain ole ass whipping coming.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Be careful of who you challenge.

Recently I went out to a local club and was hanging with some friends. It’s always great going out with friends. Mingling, drinking beer, enjoying laughs and hitting on each others wives. the last time we all went out, we were having a grand ole time. Met a new couple, a nice young couple. Oh how I like nice young couples. Especially when the conversation turns towards BDSM. Turns out he is somewhat new to the lifestyle. I admit, chatting with him some, he has what it takes. The young lady who was with him that night might be a different story.

One thing I find interesting in a lot of people is their need to challenge one another. “I’m going to kick your ass!!” “I can beat you in a game.” “No one spanks harder than so and so.” This one I like. Especially when at the club and hearing people say that when they find out I like to spank some ass. At first people would laugh, roll their eyes and give me that “yea yea’s”. I think they now know I back up with I say. More often than not, people do not know what they are getting themselves into when they meet me and attempt to challenge me.

Back to this particular young girl new to the lifestyle. She quickly received some education from me about humility and keeping her mouth shut. The conversation was going along the lines of what do you like, exchanging laughs, joking, telling stories etc when she decided to open her mouth and tell me she has no limits. “Honey, everyone had limits.” She assured me, that “I have no limits.” Ok, that caused me to roll MY eyes. The other lady that was with me, a Domme, she put her hand on my arm, because she knew what was coming next.

I chuckled; evil laughed and kept my mouth shut. Yes, I kept my mouth shut. The best things come to those who wait little one. We chatted more about this and that. Things to do to her nipples, ways to bind her wrists etc. The four of us engaging in friendly conversation and banter back and forth when the boyfriend/Dom stated he wanted to see his girl on the stage and dancing. She insisted she was not going to dance on stage, would not do it period. End of discussion. Pausing mid smile, I cocked an eyebrow and said, “Oh really?” My Domme friend tried to step between us and push me away because no telling what was going to happen next.

I made the comment, “I thought you said no limits?” She responded with that’s right or something along those lines. Are you sure? Positive. Ok, so just to make sure I am clear, you have said you have no limits… correct? And again the answer was yes Sir, no limits. Now that giant evil grin flashed across my face. I turned to the boyfriend and asked his permission to test this theory of no limits. He nodded and said sure. I said, if you have no limits, then why are you refusing to get on stage. Nothing. So you are still standing on your words of “I have no limits.”? Yes Sir I am.

Let’s just say she never made it to the stage, she ended up in a puddle on the floor sobbing because her stubbornness got her in trouble. I heard from him the other day. He tells me things are a lot better between them. Even growing. He is having a lot of fun play time with her and she is a very obedient little subbie.

Be careful of who and when you challenge someone. You just might bite off more than you can chew. I am not one to really challenge someone. But I will do my best to excite you and push you to be better, bolder, work harder, be more attentive etc. I am sure there is someone out there who can flip me in a challenge, but I have yet to come across that person. But if I do, all I can say is, clear the city, there is going to be a throw down that night.

Oh, and by the way. Is there anyone who wants to challenge me? WEG.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Would you pay for it?

Would you ever pay for sex? Would you accept money in exchange for sex? Would you ever pay to have someone whip your ass? Would you pay someone to let you whip their ass? Before you answer these questions, let me ask you another question. Who pays for dinner when you go out on a date or to a movie?

I ask these questions because there are people out there who feel they should be compensated in some way for their time when partaking in sexual acts, BDSM activities, etc. I’m not here to defend prostitutes, Pro Domme’s or anyone else that would fall into that category. But what is the difference in taking a woman out on a date and buying her dinner. Maybe taking her to a movie. Maybe flowers or even a small gift. And then hope at the end of the night things went well enough that you can get lucky and get you a little sumtin sumtin.

I suppose one difference is professional and amateur. It’s all a matter of how you declare yourself. Let’s compare amateur and professional athletes for example. A college basketball player is considered an amateur athlete. Until he hires an agent and/or gets asked/drafted/selected to play for a professional league and is then paid a salary to play a sport. Thus he went from an amateur athlete to a professional athlete because now he draws a pay check. How many watch golf on TV? Ever noticed that sometimes next to a name you will see a small letter “a”? No, that doesn’t designate that person as an asshole nor are they branded with the scarlet letter. The small “a” means they are an amateur playing. That also means that no matter where they finish in that tourney, they will receive NO MONEY!!!

Back to the sexual and BDSM aspect of it. As a society many of us look down upon professionals who sell themselves in some manner for sex or bdsm. Yes prostitution is illegal in most states. Hell, getting fucked in the ass is illegal in some states. Many of us even look at paying someone for sex as morally wrong. Hey, we are human after all. Would I pay for sex? No, I wouldn’t. In one hand, I think that is a sign of desperation to pay for sex in some form. In the other hand, paying for sex just eliminates the need for courtship and gets you right down to the nitty gritty of it. To each their own. I just won’t pay for it, nor will I charge for it. Although I might charge for my advice. Does that mean I am pimping my brain out? Maybe I need to re-examine that though.

I know a couple of ladies who are in the BDSM world who do charge for their services. We have actually become friends. Not great friends where I get a discount or would call them to bail me out of jail. Not saying I would do something to cause me to go to jail. But friends that we can openly discuss things in a friendly manner. I have always told them that it is their right to make a living, earn some side cash or whatever. I mean if someone is willing to pay for it, then someone has to be there to take their money. So be it. More power to them.

Bottom line is this. Whatever you or the other person chooses to do is their business. We have the right and the option to turn away from them. We can express our opinion to them, but it is their right to do what they want either legally or illegally. Do you know the difference between legal and illegal? No, wrong answer. No again. And that’s three no’s in a row, you are out. The difference is getting caught. It is only illegal if you get caught. Well, ok, sarcasm ruled on that one. But in a sense, it is correct.

Are your eyes and mind open now? If not then don’t worry, there is hope for you yet. LOL. In my opinion I think it is all a matter of perception.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Welcome

Welcome new readers and followers. A quick but brief statement by me. If you are offended by the truth, by honesty, by bluntness (If that is a word.), honest opinions, expression, or anything else along these lines, then please stop reading now and click the little red X in the upper right corner of your screen now. Otherwise, you have been warned. LOL

I am going to say things that you might not agree with. I am going to express my opinion that might differ from yours. I might even do or say something that will make some cringe. Whatever it is, YOU have chosen to read this on your own free will. No one has forced you to read my blog. Well, unless you are into being forced, in which case, email me now at strictnstern4u@gmail.com so we can discuss this fortunate side of you and see if we can reach some sort of mutual climax, err I mean mutual understanding to help you further your want, need and desire to be forced.

Again, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it. Also, please feel free to express yourself on here, share your thoughts, opinions and comments. I value feedback and love nothing more than some friendly banter, discussion even lively debate about something.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Therapist part 2

Damn, if I didn’t know any better I would say that the good doc here is not wearing any panties either. What is up with these 2 women? Not saying it is a bad think they are pantiless. But 2 professional women walking around without panties on… Let’s just say that is different. In fact, I prefer any woman I am with to be pantiless and hairless down there at ALL times. Never know when I might need to tease a clit or test out a cucumber to make sure it will stretch her open nicely. Oh, here is another thought. Are these 2 women enjoying each other in a sexual manner during lunch? You know, licking one another. And they feel that panties are just a waste of time? Oh, I like that thought.

Dr Blevins opens the door and walks into her private office. Following her in, she motions for me to have a seat on the sofa as she closes the door behind me. Nice modern office. Deep pile carpet. Real wooden panels. Seems to be a dark cherry color. Floor to ceiling book shelf to the right filled to capacity with pictures, books, manuals and knick knacks. Women and their knick knacks.

Taking a seat on the sofa, I notice how soft and supple the leather is. This is one of those sofas when you fall back into it, it is not so soft you feel like you are in a pile of cotton, but not too firm that you feel as if you are in a booster seat. Just right. And real leather too. Nice thick leather that has been dyed a dark red. Staying with the cherry theme I see a nice dark cherry stained coffee table between the sofa and matching winged high back leather chair. That must be where the good doc sits during her note taking while some poor sap is laying on the sofa spilling the beans about how he was picked last for kick ball or how the world is closing in on him.

A wicked smile creases my face when my thoughts turn to Brandi on her knees in front of this sofa and lapping away at Dr Blevins swollen clit. Looking down on the carpet I am wondering if there are 2 small indentions in the carpet where her knees would be.

Looking back up, I take note of the very elegant desk that Dr Blevins is sitting at. Another dark cherry piece of furniture, very neat on top. Not a lot of clutter. An office phone, a small lap top, black desk lamp and her chair. In front of her desk are 2 matching chairs, similar to the chair across from the sofa. Behind her desk is a wall with a large abstract painting. First glance it looks like some rabid beaver went wild and gnawed every tree down in the Pacific Northwest. Oh wait, no, it looks like… fuck if I know what it looks like. I am not an artist. Although I do like it. Probably something I couldn’t afford. Some stuck up artist probably fetched 25K for it. Damn, doc makes too much money listening to people spill their like stories. Oh wait, I am getting ready to pay her too. We are all fucked up.

On either side of the picture is 2 large windows, the only natural light coming into the room, but that is dimmed by the wooden blinds and curtains covering the windows. Fuck me. Am I a decorator or a fucking Dom.? Why the fuck am I telling you about all of her fucking furnishings.

“So tell me Mr. Smith, why are you here?”

“Well Doc, it’s like this. I think my brain might be a little out of sorts. I do not have normal thoughts during the day. Or at night. Fuck, what is perceived as normal? Maybe I am normal and everyone else is screwed up.”

“Interesting. Please, continue.”

“Not sure how to say this. My thoughts could be, would be, and should be considered abnormal.”

“What types of thoughts? Sexual? Non-sexual? Thinking the world is square instead of round? You need to be more specific.”

“Well, my thoughts are considered sexual in nature. Some good, some bad, some just plain fucking evil.”

“Mr. Smith, I am a trained and educated therapist. You can open up and confide in me anything you desire. I am here to help you. So, please continue.”

I drift off in my thoughts wondering, how much I tell her. Do I tell her? Well fuck yes, I need to tell her. She is a professional. She will maintain a professional attitude. Although I would prefer she be laid across my lap and let me spank her nice ass.

“Doc, do you know what BDSM is?”

Before she looks up, I can see her body tense momentarily. It’s like she has frozen in time for a split second. She doesn’t say a word, gets up from her desk and moves over to the chair in front of the sofa. Bringing with her a pen and a note pad, she settles down into the chair. Opening a box on the table, she removes a small electronic recorder and checks to make sure it is working.

“Mr. Smith, will you be ok with me recording our session? I want to ensure I am able to refer back to our conversation when needed to confirm past notes etc. Will this be ok?”

“Sure Doc, That is fine with me. I do my best to keep the language professional and G-rated.”

“Mr. Smith, please say anything you wish. If you wish to curse, then please do so. One moment please as I set the recorder up. This is Dr. Caroline Blevins. The date is July 24, 2011. Patient name is Mr. Smith, file #072411D. Now, Mr. Smith, you asked me if I know BDSM is. Yes I do. Please continue.”

“I want you to tell me it’s socially acceptable to be a Dominant. Tell me I am not screwed up in the head. I don’t want you to help me understand that I have wants and needs. I know I have wants and needs. Who doesn’t? So, tell me Doc. It is normal right? Well is it?”

“Tell me about your relationships Mr. Smith. Your tone indicates to me that in your eyes I am a submissive. And that you are in control here. That is interesting. I want to know why you feel the need to talk to me in that manner.”

“My relationships? My relationships from a vanilla stand point… You understand the context of the word vanilla Doc?”

“Yes, go on please.”

“My vanilla relationships are limited. Very limited. I am drawn more to the submissive type. So that is what I look for in a woman. A submissive. One problem I have though is I am able to pick out submissive women at random. Even women who think that they are not submissive, I can tell.”

“Interesting. Tell me how you can determine if a woman is submissive or not.”

“You have heard the expression ‘I have gaydar.’ Well, I have freakdar. I can sense if someone is a freak. Someone who is into kink. If I pick up on it, I will attempt to manipulate and steer the conversation in a certain direction. For instance, the other day I realized a childhood friend of mine is a submissive. We were having a discussion about her job. She told me her they were limited on office space and she choose to work in the basement near the records that were kept. Seemed like the right thing for her since that is her job is making sure all the records and documents are safe guarded and accounted for. So, I made a joke stating, I am sure you love the basement. All that’s missing from any good basement are whips and chains. I got zero response from her.”

Go on Mr. Smith.

“All I heard was silence. So I pushed it a little more by saying, ‘No comment huh?’ and I chuckled. To which I got a giggle out of her. A flirty giggle. Bam. Once thing lead to another and I found out that yes she loves to be restrained and whipped. See my point?

“Yes I do Mr. Smith. Very ummm fascinating that you are able to pick up on those subtleties. Please, tell me more.”

“When my freakdar starts going off then I tend to try and steer conversations in certain directions. I'll drop subtle hints. Maybe illicit a wicked smile from them and play on that. "Oh you naughty girl. Go to my room, you need to be spanked.” That usually will get me one of two responses. An "I don't think so" or a "promise?" I think it all means it is who I am. I accepted that long ago. I am me. I know who I am. I know what I like. For instance. You turn me on. I like the professional look you have today. You're extremely attractive. I have also come to realize that most people in a management, authoritive position tend to gravitate towards a submissive side. It's their dark side. Besides I didn't notice a panty line when you walked me into your office. < Turning to face the doc>. Are you wearing panties? If not, that's very naughty and you should lay across my knee and receive a spanking. I mean after all this is supposed to be a professional setting and you're being a naughty girl in front of your patient.”

“So, umm, interesting you are turning your attention towards me and attempting to speculate about my sexuality. I am fairly certain though, that is not why you made the appointment. So tell me why you are really here. Why did you seek out therapy in the first place?”

I sought therapy to make sure I am not missing a few dozen bolts. I want you to tell me all if normal in my head and that I do not need to be instutionalized. I am not seeking social acceptance. I just want you tell me I am not some social freak. However, now that I am here and I see you and your secretary, I can not help but wonder what is going on around here. Maybe you both need to seek therapy from me. You didn’t answer my question Doc. Are you wearing panties?”

“That is none of your business if I am wearing them or not. Now, please sit back down and let’s get back to our discussion about you.”

“Yes, let’s get back to discussing me Doc. Let’s discuss how I pay attention to details. Details like, the number of times you have uncrossed and re-crossed your legs since we started our discussion. In the past 5 minutes, you have done this 3 times. Is everything ok? Are you feeling a little flushed? Your neck is awfully red. The same shade as your secretary when I winked at her earlier. Now Dr. Blevins, are you wearing panties? And do not make me repeat myself again.”

I… I… Mr. Smith, I am a professional and I will not answer your question. You will conduct yourself in an appropriate manner or I will ask that you….”
“Ask that I what Doc? Ask that I not help you unleash the submissive in you? Ask that I not touch you like this? Ask that I be gentle on the first couple of swats on your naked ass as punishment for not wearing panties in front of a patient?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Yes Sir what?”

“Yes Sir, please be gentle when you spank my bare naked ass as punishment for not wearing panties in front of a patient.”

“Tell me Doc, does it make your pussy wet when you get spanked?”

“Yes Sir it does.”

“I think my time is up now. My address is in the file. If you wish to continue this with me, then be at my house at 8pm tonight. I will leave specific instructions with your secretary that I expect to be followed to the letter. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir. I will do as instructed.”

“Good girl.”

I walk out of her office and back to Brandi’s desk asking her to write something down for me before I leave. She grabs a pad and pen and assumes a writing posture.

“Title this ‘Preparations for Mr. Smith’ Are you ready Brandi? And please do not interrupt me until I am finished.”

“Yes Sir I am.”

“Number one. Shave every hair from the neck down. There will be an inspection. Number two. Wear black stockings, black lace bra and no panties. Wear at minimum 5in black patent leather stiletto heels. Number three. Hair in a ponytail. High on the head near the top of your skull. Only one hair band needed. Number four. Bring Brandi with you. Brandi, do not look at me, keep writing. Got all of that so far? Good. Number five. Brandi is to be dressed and shaved the same as you. Number six. DO NOT BE LATE!!! Got all of that Brandi? Good. Bye for now”

And I walk out of the office before Brandi can even look up and ask what is going on.


Me




I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

The Therapist Part 1

Here is a new story.

The other day I was thinking I needed to go see a therapist. Why? Because who in their right mind gets off on spanking, torturing, manipulating, harassing so on and so on. Maybe I am right that I get off on being controlling, being manipulative, mean and degrading to a woman. And it’s all those vanilla fuckers who are not right because they don’t get off on it. Fuck, I don’t know. Hence why I think I need to see a shrink to maybe have my head examined. Maybe if a paid professional tells me my melon is not scrambled and that it is healthy and normal to carry on a sick, perverted or proverted, twisted life, then it should be ok. I mean they are the experts right?

So, I decided to let my fingers do the walking. Let’s see, nothing under head shrinks. Let’s try therapists. Hmmmm… Here is one. Dr. Caroline Blevins. And she is close by. I will call and make an appointment.

“Hello, my name is Mr. Smith, and I would like to schedule a time to see Dr Blevins. No, I will be paying cash as my insurance does not cover shrinks. Yes, sorry, therapist. (Got to remember to get out of Dom mode.) No, mornings are no good for me. I would prefer afternoons. 3:30? I can be there then. Thanks see you this afternoon.”

Wow, I like this office already. Not only is she accommodating, but has time for me. And the girl who made the appointment sounds very cute. Ok, damnit, get out of Dom mode. Ok, 3:30 need to make some adjustments to today’s schedule. I can handle that. No problem.

So, its 3:00 and here I sit in the parking lot of the office off Broadway. I arrived early per the instructions of the nice sounding young lady on the phone. Seems I have to fill out some paperwork. BAHH!! Looks nice from the outside. Looks like a refurbished house made into offices. I see a real estate office on one side and Dr Blevins on the other. Well, here goes. Time to go freak a doctor out. Then again, I love freaking people out and watching their reactions.

Reaching for the door knob, I find it locked. What the hell. Oh, duh, read the sign. “Please ring bell to unlock door.” Hmmm. Interesting. Seems like a nice neighborhood. Why keep the door locked at all times? Are there some wackos around here? Maybe it is locked to keep the wackos in. Fuck me. Keep the wackos in? Damn I have an over active mind. RING!!! RING!!!

Through the glass door, I hear someone coming. The click click of heels has my attention. As she rounds the corner, I pull my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose, tilt me head forward and raise my eye brows. Holy fuck, what a hot young receptionist. She looks to be mid 20’s. Dark headed, hair pulled back in a pony tail. About 5’9” with her 4in heels. Nice chocolate brown business suit with a skirt. Cream colored hose. Make up not to heavy but enough to let you know she is wearing it. Nice medium length French tipped manicured nails. Walks with head and chin up, eyes forward. Beautiful smile. Maybe my next victim, err I mean play toy. Opening the door, she stands to the side, next to the door knob welcoming me in.

“Mr. Smith? Hello, I am Brandi, Dr Blevins secretary. If you will follow me please.”

Follow you? Oh most definitely. Mymymymy, what a nice gorgeous spankable ass. I suspect that Brandi runs 4-5 miles a day and works out on a machine at least a couple of hours. Probably in the evening. Need to find out where she does work out. Need to stalk my prey. As Brandi walked around her desk, I stopped in front of it. She handed me an iPad and directed me to a seat so I could get comfortable and fill out the information. An iPad huh? Fancy. I like this Doc already. Modern office. Hot secretary. Obviously electronics friendly.

After I filled out all the information as requested, I returned with the iPad and handed it back to Brandi. Told her I couldn’t pick up any movies on there, nor could I surf any of my favorite web sites. Brandi smiles and says “oh we had to disable the internet on the iPad, too many patients trying to get on juggs.com.

I chuckle and said, “Juggs.com doesn’t interest me. I prefer much more refined sites than that.” That causes her to look up and raise an eye brow, hoping I would go into more detail. Half smile, I turn on my heels and walk back to my seat. Pulling out my phone, I pull up the ESPN app and start checking latest sports news. I get lost in an article about the upcoming NFL season when I realize it is now 3:45. What the fuck. Already 15 minutes late. I look up from my phone and see Brandi looking my way.

“Sorry, I did not want to interrupt you, but Dr Blevins is running a little late. But she will be with you in the next few minutes.”

I gasp in fake shock. “How dare her keep me waiting.” I say with a smile and a chuckle. Brandi looks back down at a note pad and I take in her long luscious legs underneath her open bottom desk. Damn I think I need to show Brandi a good time in order to get my hands on those legs. So sweet, so young and oh so innocent. I notice no pictures on her desk. Single, no boyfriend? No purse anywhere. Not even a cell phone on her desk. Very professional. Obviously very diligent in her work. Even her perfume is not over powering. Smooth dark skin. As they say, her skin has been kissed by the sun. I bet she looks great in a bikini. If I had to guess, I bet she worked at Hooters during college. Her breasts are perky, and nicely shaped. Not overly large and not small enough to not see.

Twisting in my seat and crossing my legs, I let out an audible sigh. “Brandi, is she going to be much longer? I do not want to sit her all day and then be rushed during my appointment.”

“Mr. Smith, you are Dr. Blevins last appointment today, so there will be no rush. May I offer you a drink? Soft drink? Water? Coffee?”

“What I would really like is 2 fingers of bourbon neat. Is that available?”

“Yes Sir it is. Ill be right back.”

Wow. A doctor that has bourbon available for the patient. I like this doc already. Watching Brandi walk away gives me another chance to stare at her ass. I do not notice any panty lines. Makes a guy wonder just how naughty Brandi could be. Things that make you go hmmm.

Returning with my glass of bourbon, Brandi tells me she used my 2 fingers to measure and not hers, otherwise there would be but a few drops in the glass. Glancing at her hand as she places the glass in mine, I notice how small and petite her hands really are. Her long nails just give her hands the illusion of being bigger than what they are. Nothing like a small petite hand to make a guys cock not only look longer, but thicker as well. And in my experience, small petite hands means a nice tight pussy.

“Thank you Brandi. This is perfect to knock the edge off since I have never been to a shrink before.”

“Mr. Smith, a word of caution, please do not let Dr. Blevins hear you call her a shrink, she prefers therapist. Something about the word shrink really sets her off.”

Taking note of that, I smile at Brandi, tip my glass towards her and say I like setting women off. Taking a nice long sip from the glass, I allow the bourbon to settle in my mouth and trickle down my throat. Nothing like a nice smooth bourbon to mellow me out.

Brandi’s phone buzzes; she picks up the receiver and says yes a couple of times before putting the phone back down. “Dr. Blevins will be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you Brandi. I say with a wink and half smile.”

“You are welcome Mr. Smith.”

Did I just notice a slight blush with Brandi? Not in her face, but her neck seems to have darkened up slightly. Hmm. Interesting. Ill file that away for later. Hearing a door open and the sound of heels clicking on the hardwood, I rise from my chair, drain the last of my drink and put the glass on Brandi’s desk as Dr Blevins rounds the corner. My eyes meet hers. Gorgeous almond shaped eyes. Dark red hair pulled up in a bun. Cream colored silk blouse. Glasses hanging from her neck. Black knee length skirt. Black hose and black 4in stiletto heels. The 2 women know how to dress in this office. Although I am sure Brandi takes her cue from the sexy doc here. Extending her hand as she approaches me, the good doctor speaks.

“Hello Mr. Smith, I am Dr. Caroline Blevins. I am sorry to keep you waiting. Please follow me.”

As she turns on her heels, I mumble under my breath. I’ll make you think sorry.

Watching her ass walk away from me, she stops to face me, catching my eye on her ass. “I’m sorry Mr. Smith, did you say something?”

Smiling wickedly, “Just talking to myself, ya know, the voices in my head.”

Stay tuned for part 2.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Empty promises

Sometimes on my way to and/or from work I will turn the radio off and do some thinking. I usually spend that time reflecting on that day or the day ahead. What happened or didn’t happen. Problems and issues, or success of the day. Sometimes good thoughts, sometimes bad thoughts. Whatever it is, it gives me time to absorb and think about what shouldacouldawoulda or did happen that day.

One thought that seems to dominate my thoughts…. Wait a second. I am dominating myself? Does that make me a switch if I dominating myself? No wait, that makes me a masochist to deal with my own sadism. No, I am a slave… Fuck me, I am just a twisted bastard because I mind fuck myself. Who says I cant have all the fun and do it to myself? Lets see you try that. HA!!!!! BOOYAH!!!!

Back to my thought. I have a lot of people in this lifestyle I converse with. Some daily or once a week or once a month or some I only hear from when then need a shoulder to lean on. Yes, that’s ok, Go ahead and use me. I am ok with that. No wait, I want some satisfaction. I mean what kind of self centered man would I be if I didn’t ask for something in return? Ill get back to you on that.

Often times I hear from people who read this blog about how well I write, how well I express myself. How powerful and strong of a Dominant I am. Yada yada yada. You get the picture right? Now, a select few, and I mean few as in 3 of you…. Isnt that what few means? 3? The rest of this blog does not pertain to you. But that rest of you it does. Holy shit, I am about to commit blog suicide. I am getting ready to blast my readers and scare them off. Well, if you choose to get upset because I am speaking the truth, then go spend sometime in the mirror and look at your own reflection.

On second thought, I think I need to let this one stew some more and gather my thoughts. I am not ready to write this one out and post. Check back for the second part to this post.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

New story

Damn, it is just fucking hot outside. I swear I think hell must be freezing over, because all the fucking heat is here and not in hell. Today was just one of those days. Driving home, the local radio personality says it is 96, 96 at 5:30 in the late afternoon. DAMN it is going to be a hot, humid muggy night. And to beat it all, it is fucking bumper to bumper traffic. Damn road construction. And to make matters worse, I need to get to cleaners to pick up some clothes, and stop by the store for some milk and bread crumbs. What the fuck has she done all day? She doesn’t work. We have no kids. I am sure she has been laying by the pool, getting her tan on. Probably went and had sushi with one of her many girlfriends, maybe even a mani pedi. Hell, for all I know, she is probable lounging in her pants that say babe or sexy across the ass, hasn’t had a shower all day and probably still laying in bed.

That’s what I get for going through my “mid-life” crisis at 43 and having a relationship with a 24 year old chic. I say mid-life because that is what my ex-wife labeled it when she filed for divorce few years back and tried to take me to the cleaners. HA!! Joke was on her. I didn’t force her to have the affair with the gardener or the pizza boy. I wasn’t the one who was taking her boy toys out shopping and fucking their brains out in the back seat of her car in the parking lot of the department store. Damn it felt good to watch my attorney throw the stack of pictures down in front of her and her attorney at their office of all these sexual escapades we uncovered. The look on her face was priceless as I sat there with a half grin on my face and mouthed the words “fuck you” at her when she looked at me.

So what did I do? I did what any other middle aged man does. I had my mid-life crisis. Hey, if I am going to be accused of it, I might as well have it. Right? So I took a 2 week vacation to recover and get over my divorce. (That’s what I told them at work anyway.) So off to the Virgin Islands I went. Living in a bungalow on the beach for 2 weeks sure can clear a mans head, and empty his balls. Yes, empty my balls, especially when you have 2 or 3 girls a night hanging on your arms when you go out on the town at night. Hell if this is what a mid-life crisis is all about, I might make it a life long crisis and enjoy it.

After a week of sun and fun, I was sitting on the deck of my bungalow overlooking the lagoon I was in reading my book and drinking a cold beer when she came walking by. A gorgeous, blonde headed, toned body, skin kissed by the sun woman. Being the typical man, I pulled my chin down, lowered my sunglasses and watched her walk by. Damn I love watching a woman’s ass shift from side to side as she walks in front of me. And holy fuck did she have an ass. Watching her walk down the beach brought my cock to attention. Once she disappeared down the beach I went back to my book, however, I was unable to clear the image from my memory bank of her ass.

After sometime and unable to clear my head, I tossed my book to the side and took off running straight to the water and the waves crashing in. Diving head first into the water I swam until my breath gave out and came up for air. Swimming back towards shore and walking out of the water, I stopped dead in my tracks as I watched her enter the bungalow next to mine. A sly grin creased my face as a plan came together. Being the hospitable neighbor that I am, I went to the cooler, grabbed 2 beers and walked over to say hello and offer her a beer. To my surprise when I walked up on the deck of her bungalow, out walked a man several years older than I and asked if he could help me. Remaining calm, I introduced myself and offered HIM the beer. We chatted for a bit about work, where we were from etc etc, all the while my eyes searching inside for her. Once the beers were empty I made my way back to my lounge chair and book.

A couple of days passed by and a couple more nights of partying and all I could think about was my Barbie doll next door. Yes I named her Barbie. All the girls, all the flirting, all the beer, all the rum and all I could think of was her. On the last night of my trip, I was packing my things up and heard a slight rap on the door. When I opened the door, my eyes took in the most beautiful sight imaginable. There stood Barbie. All 5’10” of her lean frame, her sun kissed tanned skin, her deep green eyes, and her smile that would blind the men on Mars. In her hand were 2 beers and she was offering one of them to me when I came to my senses and heard her saying for what could have been the third or fourth time, “Would you like a beer?” I stumbled with my words and said sure, why not and invited her in. Offering her a seat, I retreated to the kitchen in search of a bottle opener. Returning, I noticed she had taken a seat and her long lean legs seemed to stretch forever. Opening her bottle, I could not take my eyes off of those legs and wondered what waited at the upper end of those supple thighs.

I asked her if it was ok that she be over here, I did not want to upset her husband/sugar daddy. She laughed very loudly and very long and when she caught her breath, she looked at me said, that the fat old man that I met that day was her father and he was long gone back to the states. After I chuckled, and removed my foot from my mouth, I wanted to leave the room and kick my own ass for being a total dick and not ask him who he was to her. She went on to tell me she had been there all week by herself, had not left her bungalow, no partying, no nights on the town, not even going out to grab a bite. Only time she left was to walk the beach and go for a dip. Damn, had she gone swimming naked at night? DAMNDAMNDAMNDAMN!!!!!! When I asked her why not, she told me she just ended a 4 year relationship with the man who was going to buy her the moon and stars blah blah blah. What I wanted to do was grab her up in my arms and kiss her. Well, wanted and doing are two different things.

That was a year ago I met her. And we have been inseparable ever since. She even flew home with me. So here I am pulling up at the house after a long hard day after stopping by the cleaners, the store and whatever else the fuck I needed to do. If I find her ass out by the pool, I am liable to toss her ass in. I mean for fucks sake, why did I have to do it. Sometimes she really pisses me off. Walking through the garage, I stop by the beer fridge, grab a cold one and twist the top off. Walking out by the pool, the only life I see is the vacuum running and cleaning the bottom of the pool. Hmmm. Walking back into the house, I see there is nothing cooking. Through the living room and nothing. I do notice the house is spotless. That’s a nice change. Not saying she is a slob, but on occasion I will see a glass of wine left out, or a pair of shoes lying around.

Walking up the stairs to the bedroom, I notice the carpet is freshly vacuumed. Not one foot print is on the plush carpet. Into the bedroom, I start pulling my tie off and toss it on the bed. Unbuttoning my shirt, I notice the light on in the closet. Maybe she is in there. Nope. Nothing. Tossing my shirt into the hamper and pulling on an old tee, I decide I am going to head to the basement and my personal man cave and prop my feet up and have another beer.

Walking down the stairs, I wonder where she could be. Her car is in the garage. I haven’t noticed her purse anywhere. In fact I can “feel” her in the house. Hmm. Opening the door to the basement, I can hear music on. AHH Maybe she is down here working out. Or lounging in the sauna I had put in last month. A smile creeps across my face as I imagine her naked body all glistening with sweat and water inside the sauna. We need to screw in there. Turning the corner I freeze in my tracks. There, hands on the back of the sofa, ass high in the air is my Barbie. She is wearing her high school uniform. Green plaid skirt and white button down shirt. DAMN THAT IS SEXY!!! I also notice her black stockings and heels. My brain tells me this is going to be a great night. I walk up behind her and pull her skirt up to reveal a bare naked ass. I rub my cold beer bottle up the crack of her ass and watch as the goose bumps rise on her skin.

This is a pleasant site to come home to baby.

You won’t be happy when I tell you what happened today.

With that, the smile disappears and I step away putting the beer bottle down on the table and reach for the ping pong paddle on the nearby table. With out saying another word, I know she is like this ready to accept her punishment. What she has done, there is no telling. Last time she backed into the carts at the store. Another time she knocked over a vase at the antique store. And there was the time she left the windows down in a down pour. So many little things, but all because she was too busy flirting with another man, or yakking on her cell and not paying attention to what was going on. Stupid things that only made things worse. She knew the drill when she got in trouble.

Pulling her skirt up, I swiftly swatted each cheek of her ass three times with the paddle. Rubbing her ass, I could feel the tightness in her muscles because she had tensed up before each swat. Looking at her hands, I notice she has curled her fingers around the cushions of the sofa.

Do not dig your nails into my leather and cut it.

Yes Sir. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 Sir.

Counting like a good girl I quickly strike again. This time a much harder swat to each cheek. 7, 8 Sir.

Put your hands behind your back and your chest on the cushions.

As she moves her hands to the small of her back, I grab both wrists in my left hand and squeeze tightly. Pushing down on her back and pinning her in place, I start my barrage of swats on her ass. So fast and so hard, she has no time to count. After 10 on each cheek, because I DO count, the only sound I hear is her sobbing and sniffling. Pulling her upright and into my arms, I toss the paddle on the sofa and wrap my arms around her. Her sobs becoming louder and deeper as she melts into me. Rubbing her back and stroking her hair, I ask her what she has done this time. As she starts to tell me, I breathe deeply because I know the last two swats are going to be the ones that are considered attitude adjusters for what she did today.

I ALWAYS save two just in case they are needed.

Do I turn you on?!?!

Ok, so here lately I have been told that my anger and my words turn you freaks on. Really? Well at least it isn’t my charm and personality. And not my humor. Hell, I am not funny at tall. Nah, I am just a mean panty wetting, word typing Dom who has no charm nor personality let alone funny.

Here is a new avenue I should explore. Making a woman achieve orgasm by being angry while typing words. I wonder how long I could make her go without achieving orgasm. I can picture it now.

PEOPLE PISS ME OFF. I MEAN WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS CUTTING ME OFF ON THE INTERSTATE LIKE THAT. I SHOULD GIVE HER A PIECE OF pie. Key lime pie is my favorite. I also like pecan and cherry pie. Sometimes I like ice cream with my pecan pie but mainly I will CHEW HER ASS OUT FOR CUTTING ME OFF LIKE THAT. SHE IS GOING TO KILL SOMEONE. WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE LEARN HOW TO DRIVE? FUCKING KMART? I went for a nice country drive the other day …..

Is it working? Are you close? Do you want to cum??? Ok, this sucks. I mean really? Are you serious? I am me. I tell it like it is. I call it like I see it. I think this is starting to sound like the I am me that I wrote about the other day. If my words turn you on so, then help a brother out and share your thoughts and rub your feelings on me. Yea, that’s what I am talking about. Come to Daddy. OH YEA!!!!!

Me
I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Friday, July 8, 2011

I am me.

It has recently been brought to my attention that I am an asshole. Well, tell me something I don’t know. Here is a new twist on that. I am now an international asshole. Yes, I had a Canadian call me one. So, I plan on wearing that one proudly for a while. That’s Mr. International Asshole now. BOOYAH!!!!

I have been exchanging emails the past week or so with a new fan of me and my blog. We have been discussing many different things in the BDSM realm. Yesterday she really laid the compliments on thick when she told me she really enjoyed reading my blog and how honest I was. She said it turned her on so much reading my blog that she is buying a plane ticket to come see me and give me a world class blow job. She also wants to be flogged and spanked by me. Ok, well, maybe she isn’t coming, and she didn’t offer a blow job, nor did she ask me to flog or spank her. But don’t fucking ruin my little fantasy dammit. I am in my own little fucking world right now. Ok, I need a towel. I am finished.

Seriously though, I have read a few blogs and one thing that I don’t understand is why people hold back what they really want to say, or how they truly feel? Why? It’s your own fucking opinion. If you want to cower to society and let them control you, then you are just a subbie to the world and society. Know what I say to that? FUCK OFF!!! I am me, will always be me, will not change for you. Now, I might present myself in a different aspect depending on the company I am with, you know, exercise discretion and such, but I will not change. I am me. Accept me for me, or hit the fucking door, get out of my way as the SNS train is rolling through. Either shit or get off the pot. Can’t run with the big dog, stay on the fucking porch. You get the idea right? If not, then click the red ex in the upper right and do not EVER come back to my blog.

I am me. I can be an asshole. A son of a bitch. (Be careful calling me one of those, even though I didn’t have the best relationship with my mother, she is/was still my mother and only I have the right to call her a bitch. So if you call her one too, then be prepared for a wrath to come down from ME.) Where was I, oh, son of a bitch. I can be a bastard. Piece of shit, pile of dung, bile from a pig, whore, fuck head, penis breath, and the list goes on and on. And I am sure there are some I have not heard because those pansy ass chicken shit bastards are to fucking scared to say it to my face. BUT!!! I am also a wonderful, thoughtful, caring, compassionate, loving, protecting, adorable man. Well maybe not adorable. I can be your best friend, or your worst enemy. But, I am me. Accept me or move on. I don’t have time nor a place for fence straddlers. There is no in between with me.

In today’s world, it is real easy to be someone else. Hell, I can sit right here in front of this monitor and make myself out to be a some Greek God. Make myself 6’4”, ripped and toned. Gods gift to women. Or any other lie I could come up with. But I am not like that. One thing that really pisses me off is people pretending to be what or who they are not. I have a vanilla friend (although, I think she has a freaky streak, just haven’t had the chance to explore that just yet. There is a slight problem with distance; she is about 1500 miles away. DOH!!!) Who is a gorgeous woman. Model looks, slamming body, awesome personality and rates HIGH on the boner scale. In fact, she has her own boner category named for her. This friend has had her online identity stolen. There is another woman who has stolen her pictures from the internet, even created email addresses that are similar to hers and made herself into my friend. Why? In order to be someone you are not? I mean get a fucking life.

I admit, I have been played by someone like this. I am sure we all have. But why be that way? Is it really worth it? Does it make you feel good about yourself to act and be someone you are not? People like that are bottom feeders and will say and do anything to try and get ahead. I say try, because eventually it will come back around and take a bite out of their ass. However, it is not worth it to me to chase these fuckers down and give them a piece of my mind. Hell, on second thought maybe I should, and then they can better themselves. Wait, second thought, nope. Aint gonna do that. If I gave everyone a piece of my mind that needed it, then I would be a dumb bastard. One because I gave it all away, and second because I gave it all away. DUH!!!! BIG RED TRUCK!!!!

One lesson in life I have learned is that you can not please everyone. I try to please others the best I can. I do compromise for the common good in life. That doesn’t mean I am going to change who or what I am to please everyone. But I will accept middle ground in best interest of keeping peace amongst the natives. That doesn’t mean I am going to stop rocking the boat, because I never will. Just means, I know how to choose which battles to fight and defend. Remember, I am me. Accept it or leave.

Bottom line is this. We are all different and unique in not only our own minds, but in the eyes of the world. In the eyes of our friends, family, co-workers, even the eyes of our children. You can either choose to mask that uniqueness, or learn and love to embrace it so you can share it with everyone else. It is up to you. Not me, or your friend, or your neighbor, your subbie or your Dom. It is up to you. So why not express yourself, BE yourself and LOVE yourself. Be who and what YOU want to be, not what others want you to be. If you are a subbie, then be a subbie. A switch? Be that switch. A Dominant? Be that. But whatever you are, be who you are. Don’t choose to be something your not and hide behind it.

In closing life is too damn short to try and be something your not, or to hide behind a monitor. Don’t mask yourself. Be yourself. Show the world who and what you are. Be who and what you are. Live life with no regrets.

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Contacting me

I owe a few people an apology. I just not checked my email and noticed I had a few emails from people seeking advice. I want you to know I am sorry, and I am responding to your email.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

8 year old Dominant?!?!?!

Ok, I blogged once before that I thought my first Dominant experience was when I was 18 or 19. I lied. Something triggered a memory this morning and I have been a Dominant as far back as when I was 8. YES 8!!!! Now before you get all perverted on me and scream kiddie porn, read the rest of the happenings.

When I was 8, the ‘rents went out one night and they hired a babysitter. She was a neighborhood kid, about 15 or 16. Not someone I normally hung out with for obvious reasons. Although, to go back then with the knowledge I have now…. Damn I would have been a stud at the age of 8. LOL. Back to the story. This was not her first time babysitting me so it was all good. This particular time I remember being bored. Nothing on TV to watch, no movie or anything. So I shyly asked her if she wanted to play a game. (The more I type this, the more vivid the memory is. WEG) I remember being shy, not knowing “how” to ask or anything. She pushed me and I finally said, lets play a made up game called “kidnap”. Ok you fuckers, when you are done laughing I will continue. Got it all out? Well, hurry the fuck up. Ya know, fuck it, go laugh in the corner while I finish.

So, I asked, “wanna play kidnap?” She agreed and asked what she needed to do. I said I would sneak up behind her and put my hand around her mouth and she would pretend to go to sleep. Hey, it happened on TV that way. Remember, I was 8 at the time. So, I walked up behind her, put my hand over her mouth and she went to sleep. Well, I couldn’t drag her anywhere so I asked her to get up and walk to the bedroom where she laid down on the bed and “went back to sleep.”

From there instinct took over. I remember finding some rope and tying her hands to the bed post. Afterwards, while I looked at her I thought, what do I do now? Hell, here I am 3 minutes into my game and didn’t know what to do. So I pulled her shirt up over her face exposing her bra and tits. Yes, that’s right fuckers. I was 8 and on second base. BOOYAH!!!! But, also, being 8, I did not know what the fuck to do from that point. DAMNIT!!!!! I wish I knew then what I know now. I would have done so much more. Instead, after a few minutes of staring at her chest, I pulled her shirt down and untied her. Told her I did not know what else to do. Looking back…. WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT I WAS!!!!! Damn, here I was 8, had a 16yo girl half naked and tied to my bed. I could have been dipping my wick.

Go ahead and laugh. But guess what. I was 8 and on second base. You were 8 and playing with GI Joe and the kung fu grip, or riding your bike in the neighborhood. So, your laughter is jealousy because I was getting tit while you didn’t have a fucking clue about girls. SO KISS MY ASS!!!!! HA!!!!

Thus, my earliest experience with BDSM. Damn, can I claim that I have been experimenting with BDSM for 30 years??? Ya never know. I just might.

Anyone wanna play kidnap?????? WEG

Me

I will inflict the pain, but I will kiss away the tears.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Erotic Story time

I was a young kid working at the mall in a locally owned shoe store. I admit, I thought it was a dream job for me. I mean where else can a guy with a foot, high heel and hose fetish earn money and get off at the same time? Well, after a few days on the job I started to realize it wasn’t so much of a dream job as a pain in the ass. I had yet to see any women come in that mirrored the ones I had seen countless times on the internet at a few of the porn sites I visited on a regular basis. Instead, it was screaming kids, running around shoes out, or wanting a balloon, or it was some old guy needing a new pair of hiking boots. During the slow time, I spent it wondering around the display areas, dusting the shelves or the patent leather shoes with the 4in heels. I busied myself so others wouldn’t know about my fetish. Although I think there are several people who “know”.

I had been on the job for about 3 months and had only 3 women come in that fit my fantasy. Older working women who had a day job, probably sitting behind a desk in the business dress and heels answering the phone, or typing up memos that their boss had dictated to them. But one day this one lady walked in and she turned out to be the one I have fantasized about all the time. She stood about 5’10” in her heels. She wore a black skirt dark red blouse. She had on a black jacket with a single strand of pearls around her neck. Dark wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Her makeup was perfect. Smooth skin, supple lips with a dark shade of lipstick. Long eye lashes, eye brows shaped perfectly to accentuate her brown almond shaped eyes. She wore simple hoop ear rings only visible when she turned her head and they peeked out from her thick hair. Her names were just long enough to allow her to work and perform tasks and down in a French manicure.

She came in and walked straight to my favorite part of the store. The display of high heels that I dusted on a daily basis. Walk around another display I busied myself dusting hiking boots and did my best to keep from staring at her. But I couldn’t help myself. I kept staring at her gorgeous legs incased in smoke colored hose. Those 4in black stiletto high heels she wore were a part of every fantasy I had. I felt my mouth going dry. I swallowed once. I swallowed twice. But it just felt like I was trying to swallow sand paper. I used my dry tongue and moved it about my teeth, trying to open up my saliva glands and produce some sort of wetness in my mouth. And at that same time, I felt that familiar twitch in my pants. Pushing my pelvis forward, I mashed my hardening cock against the display. Feeling the heat radiating from my cock as it touched moved inside my underwear only caused my mind to go into over drive and all I could think about was running my hands up and down her smooth hose covered legs.

I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath and tried to gather myself. I was 30 minutes from leaving for the day, and it would look awfully suspicious to my boss if I had to duck into the restroom for a few minutes this close to quitting time. When I opened my eyes, I was startled because standing before me was the goddess of my fantasies. She cleared her throat and in an irritated tone she snapped at me to fetch her a size 7 in the cherry red stiletto she held in her out stretched hand. Fumbling around, I knocked over the display of boots I had been pushing on. Quickly bending over to pick up the boots, I looked up at her, my face flush red with embarrassment and smiled and said I would get right on that.

She had shifted her feet and now stood with her right foot slightly more forward, her left hand on her hip and her right hand with the sexy manicured nails clutching the heel and thrusting it towards me. “Come on sugar, I don’t have all day.”

I stood up quickly, took the shoe from her and hurried off to the back. I knew exactly where those shoes were. I had just checked them right after lunch to make sure they were neatly stacked, and numerically stacked up. It was my way of hanging around those shoes all the time. Reaching for the 7’s. right in the middle of the stack, I pulled it out and before I knew it, I was buried in a mountain of boxes. My boss hurried into the back to find me restacking the boxes. He barked at me, “What the hell is going on back here? All you alright?” I mumbled under my breath I was fine and hurried to restack the boxes on the shelf so I could get back out there to her.

When I went back out front, I looked around her for, fearing she had left since it took me so long to restack the boxes. Just as I felt the life leave my body, I saw her stand back up as she had bent over to pick up a boot at the display I had knocked over. I rushed over to her with the box in hand and asked if she needed help trying them on to ensure they fit. She gave me a half smile as her eyes looked me up and down and then snorted, “sure, why not sugar, you’re cute enough.” She walked past me and at that moment I caught a whiff of her perfume that instantly filled my nostrils and caused me to turn and float after her. She walked right over to one of the single seats next to the high heel display and sat down. Crossing her legs, her skirt rode up just enough to expose some of her thigh and more of her hose. I pulled my stool up and sat down. Before I could get situated, she uncrossed her legs and placed her right foot on my thigh. Before I could react, I made eye contact with this goddess before me and noticed that same sly crooked smile on her face. As I reached for her shoe, I firmly grasped her calf in one hand and the heel of her shoe with the other. Slipping the shoe off, I noticed her toes had the same French tips as her fingers. Placing her foot back down on my thigh, I twisted for the box and grabbed the shoe I was going to place on her foot. At that same time, her foot slipped from my thigh and landed in my crotch. I tried to scoot backwards in an attempt to keep her foot off of my cock which had begun to harden once again only to find myself unable to because of the display behind me. Looking up at her again, she cocked one eyebrow eye and winked at me. She wiggled her toes a couple times on the head of my cock, before dragging the side of her foot back up my thigh. I shifted in my seat, cleared my throat and made the best attempt I could at putting the new shoe on her foot.

Once it was on, she quickly switched her feet and placed her other foot on my opposite thigh. Again, I reached for her calf, raised her leg and removed her shoe. Reaching for the other shoe again, her foot went straight to my crotch. Only this time instead of wiggling her toes, she actually stroked my cock with her foot. I was so close to orgasm, I had to grab her foot and pull it away to keep from shooting off in my pants. Placing her other foot in the shoe, I noticed a slight whimper escape from her mouth as she said in a pouting way, “Aww, are we close to losing it?”

As she went to stand I noticed her skirt had ridden up a little higher exposing the tops of her stockings and garter belt. As she pulled her skirt down, she gave a slight wiggle, grabbed her purse and said to me over her shoulder, I will wear them home. Hurrying to put her other shoes in the box and off to ring up her shoes, I could help but admire her old shoes. Although they were not old at all. Barely any scuff marks at all on these shoes. In fact these shoes don’t even look broken in. I heard her clear her throat and tell me to hurry up. I quickly throw the shoes in the box and hurry to ring her up. She flips out a credit card for her sale and with it I notice a piece of paper. Unfolding the paper, I am thinking it is a coupon, but I notice some hand writing. I had to read it three times to make sure I was reading what I was reading. It stated to meet her in the main parking lot of the mall, she will be in a black convertible. As she scribbled her signature, she whispered to me, “Don’t be long”

I finished up the sale, closed out and clocked out for the day and hurried out to the parking lot. Her car was very easy to spot. Just look for the top down and the dark headed goddess. As I approached her car, she pulled out a cigarette, put it between her lips and lit it. Taking a long deep drag of it she looked at me and told me to pull my cock out. Not believing what I just heard, I just stood there in silence not knowing what to do. She said it again, except this time she reached out and grabbed for my cock through my pants. The glowing tip of her cigarette just inches from my pants as it was pinched between her two fingers of the same hand that was now squeezing and stroking my cock. Looking at me she said in her sultry voice, “Sugar, if you don’t want to make a mess in your pants, you best pull your cock out and let me stroke it for you.” As I reached for my zipper, I looked around the parking lot to make sure no one could see what was about to happen.

At this point, I did not really care anymore. My stiff cock was in her hand and she was stroking it gently for me. Taking another drag on her cigarette, she stroked faster and looked up at me. “Sugar, I want you to shoot your hot cum on my legs.” Before she could take another drag, my cum was exploding from my cock and not only landing across her stockings, but on her skirt, on her blouse and even across the console of her car. With one final squeeze at the base of my cock and pulling the last few drops from me and into the palm of her hand, she started her car up and proceeding to back out and leave me literally standing there with my cock out. She handed me a business card and said call me sometime right before she pulled away and zipped out of my life just as quickly as she came in.