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.


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

Thursday, July 28, 2011


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 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.


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.


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

I chuckle and said, “ 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.


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.


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!!!!!

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.


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