I love . . .

I love it when we talk. I love hearing the boys voice change as his mind and self begins to feel the depths of submitting. I love hearing how his breath changes with each level of frustration that he feels, the depth and the length of the sighs that come from his mouth as his frustration grows ever more.  I love how easy it is to tease the boy, arouse the boy, deny the boy.  I love how I can torment him, making him listen as I bring myself to a pleasure that he is denied.  I love how it makes him feel.  I love how it frustrates him even more.  I love how he loves it.  I love how I love it. I love that I control it, control him.

I love knowing just how the boy feels, knowing how much he feels within and from his submission. I love the fact he feels, yet doesn't know how to put it into words.  I love being dismissive to him, towards him, of him.  I love dismissing his pleas, his wants, his longings, his frustrations.  I love how he reacts to that dismissiveness.  I love that it pushes buttons, his buttons. I love pushing those buttons and knowing what happens when I do.  I love being indifferent. I love how the boy will sometimes say something, maybe even with a hope for a little sympathy, but knowing that in reality he isn't going to get any.  I love how that frustrates him even more.  I love words and how they touch him, how they make him feel, how they reach down into the depths of his submissiveness and brings it screaming to the fore.  I love how he feels things he hasn't before. I love the fact I bring those feelings to him. 

I love the fact that I am able to be myself, to be the person that I am, and not have to make apologies for that.  I love that I don't have to reign in the natural dominance that is and always has been a part of me. I love how he brings my sadistic feelings and need screaming to the surface in a way they haven't before. I love that I can long to hurt him, want to hurt him, will hurt him, knowing that he wants to feel that hurt.  I love how limits are pushed, how he will do things that he hates doing but does them because I tell him to, make him to, order him to do. I love this, I love everything. I love more. I want to love more . . .

Foot whore!

I love words.

In reading. In writing.

In hearing. In speaking.

In blogging.

I need words.

I am a word whore!



I like to include definitions within some of my writings. 

It gives a basis to start from, it gives food for thought.  So, I was looking today for a word with a definition of someone who loves attention, of someone who loves to be worshipped as I wanted to include such a formal word and definition in my blog.

The thesaurus had nothing.

Nothing apart from where someone had asked

"I need some words for someone who :  "Loves being given attention" "wants to be worshipped""

First words that sprung to my mind?

Me.

Others? Dominant. Female. Domme. Me!

The replies that people had responded with went across the board, everything from ego-centric to narcisstic, to needy, to self-centred.

But none of the words fitted, none of them had fitted the description of what the person was searching for.

Then one man had responded

 

"Female"

It made me smile.

The response I thought quite likely from someone submissive. Someone who knows what it is like to worship.

Someone who knows what it is to give real attention and all that can mean.  Someone however, commented about how wrong he was with his reply.
But he later responded with this:

"Show me a woman who doesn't love being given attention or who doesn't expect to be appreciated and I'll show you a woman who is going to be in bad relationships. As for worshipping, a little goes a very long way.

If men willingly gave more appreciation and attention instead of competition, relationships would last much longer."

Again he had made me smile. 

He got it.   He knew just what the "meaning" was even without the right word or definition.

Someone later went on to say

"I prefer the use of a non pc word "attention whore""

Not whore in the correct sense of the words of course, or with the correct definition.  But it fits ya'know.

It does describe it so very well.

So, I am female.

I am an attention whore.

I LOVE having my feet "worshipped".

And I do not mean just licked and sucked.

There is SO much more to it than that!

I love having them washed, soaped, dried. I love having them rubbed, pumiced, moisturised.

I love having them tended to, massaged, touched, gently scratched.

I can sit there for hours having my feet attended to.

They love the attention.

My feet are attention whores!

I love the attention they get, and I know that from a sub's point of view that it can be one of the wonderful acts of service, one which they gain pleasure in doing, knowing how much they have pleased the Dominant.

It is one of the basic acts of service, but one which can show much attention, much devotion, much love.

I love it.

I miss it.

And my feet are feeling ULTRA neglected.

It has been such a long time since they have received such wonderful attention.

And at the end of a very long week like this one has been, it would just be the perfect way to end the week.

And my god, how they would love such attention right now.

How wonderful it would be, to have my feet taken into a lap, to have any polish removed and then to have them gently washed in a bowl of warm water, gently scented, maybe even bubbles, oils or even petals.

And once they have been cleansed and allowed a leisurely soak for a while, to then have them taken out, gently placed on a warm fluffy towel.  Each foot then taken in turn, gently rubbed with a pumice to remove any hardness and leaving them so very soft to the touch. 

And then get rid of the traces of pumice and skin, to soak them further.  More warm scented water, feet allowed to soak while being gently rubbed while in the water.
The water being constantly topped up to make sure it remains warm.

Then, loving removed, placed on another warm fluffy towel to be patted dry. Followed by a lovely, long gentle foot massage with oils and lotions.  With more pressure just in the right places.

Around the heel, the balls of the feet, attention to each individual toe, across the top of the foot and around the ankle. Between each toe. No spot left untouched or unattended.

Then, for the nails to be freshly painted, making sure there isn't any on the surrounding skin. 

A couple of layers with plenty of time for them to dry in between time. 

And then, when they are cleansed, massaged and painted and then to shower them with even more love and attention.

*sigh*

Foot worship isn't about licking, kissing or sucking.

Hell no.

It is SO much more.

And my god it would be just bliss right now.

I miss that.

My feet are attention whores!!

     

Taking his virgin arse!

DAMN!

This picture is hot!

Plugs are hot!

Anything "anal" is HOT!!!

HOT!!! HOT!!! HOT!!!

Fuck!!!

The thought of this picture, the thought of doing this to the boy turns me on!!

It stirs feelings deep in the pit of my stomach. 

It makes me wet.

When I think that I will be the first one to break the boy in this way, it makes those feelings all the more felt!!!

Now, it probably doesn't come as any surprise from previous writings, just how much I LOVE anything "anal". 

From anal torture, to rimming, to fisting, to fucking!

Giving, receiving.

I LOVE it all.

So, this is one of the things that I cannot wait to do with the boy.

Especially as the boy is a total anal virgin *evil grin*.  What has he been missing all of this time!!!  And while it will not be me rimming he will be! lol

Just before Christmas the boy visited a fetish shop where he bought (with my permission!) a red small plug. 

Looking at it, it actually isn't that small, but, it is smaller than one I would have bought if I had been in the shop at the same time.  Because for me, where anal is concerned size DOES matter!

There is something about that feeling of being filled, and when you are filled of just how darn fucking good that can feel.  To be left with that feeling of being totally used, used and abused. 

And, I am (and yes still am!) looking forward to the first time when that plug will be placed into the boys arse.  I have always maintained that when that time comes and we can finally get that time in the same place, that it will be one of the first things that happen.

A moment, or maybe a long moment to inspect the boy, (knowing just how humiliating such an inspection can be), of making him go on all fours, displaying his virgin arse for all to see, but for me to plug.

And plug it I will. 

A part of me wants to push him down onto the floor, and hear his screams as the plug gets pushed right the way in, no care, no preparation.  But I also know that such things isn't the best way to go.  Yes it may be something that I have experienced in the past (and loved for the record lol) but I am fully aware that well, its not always the way to go.

But, lets just say the boy will certainly know it is there, it's a shame its not a bigger one, as I would love to hear the boy whimper and cry as his arse is filled and stretched.  Still there is plenty of time for that to happen.

One day I know that will happen.

Whether he be filled with plugs, with my fist, or with another mans cock!

Then he will know how it feels to be stretched and filled.

He will know just how different and exquisite the pain from being used in that way can feel.

He will know how it feels to be used and fucked.

But more so, and something that is HUGELY appealing to me, is that I am going to be the one to break his virgin arse in. 

What a wonderful pleasure and delight that will be!

 I am so lucky!

I don't know what I feel like doing . . .

It's raining.

Again.

There is nothing more depressing than a wet, grey January day. 

Oh yes there is something more depressing. . .a wet, grey January day, stuck in the office!

It really is one of the most awful times of year.


At least if it was warmer, the builders who are currently working on the church opposite my office window would have FAR less clothes on and would give me something worth ogling at while I am sat at my desk LOL as it is, they are wrapped up in layer upon layer topped by bright yellow flourescent jackets and hard hats.

The only thing that gives me any inspiration is the amount of scaffolding and just how interesting it would be to secure someone to it, or blindfold them and walk them along it, making them think they are 40 feet off the ground when in reality, they aren't.

Nothing like a bit of "fear" to get the endorphins going.  Mind you, I am not quite sure what will get mine going at the moment.  I think they have gone into hibernation.


It's January. It's raining. It's depressing.

A friend of mine has just begun planning her wedding.  Hmmm . . .a depressing thought!

It's over 4 months until our trip to New York and Florida.  4 months!
Depressing. Yes.

I don't know what I feel like doing.

Blegh to depressing, raining days in January!

Gardening . . .

Not the greenfingered kind.

Not the tending to the flowerbeds or the paths.

Not weeding or mowing of the lawns

It is most certainly the wrong time of year for such work, and I hate it anyway so avoid it as much as possible. 

(although on a side note, if things progress as hoped during this current year, it won't be something I will need to avoid as I will have the boy tending my weeds and lawns!

So, not gardening of the garden.

But gardening of the mind.

The boy's mind.

I planted a seed yesterday.

A seed planted in the boys mind

I spent the day watching it grow.


Fed with nerves.

With fear.


With the fear of the unknown or what was to happen.

The wonderful delights of a mind fuck.

Or, is it a mind fuck?

That never knowing. That never being sure.  The boy thought it was.

The boy thought wrong!

But, I had decided that the boys behaviour had reached a point where he needed to be left with no doubt what his place is.  That he would be left in no doubt that his behaviour of late has been so unacceptable . . .so disappointing.

Him mentioining my cock once again was the final straw!

I had already decided what I was going to do, at the time of planting the seed.

The boy had all day to feel it grow.  And grow it did.

During the day  the boy while at work sent a few texts. It was clear that he was unsure what I had planned, it was clear that there was some fear behind those words.  At one point, the boy even made a poor attempt at making light of it, by saying he wonders what "delights Mistress has in store for the boy".

This isn't about "delights", this is about punishment for crap behaviour!

A text later in the day, the boy expressed he was going through one big mind fuck trying to think what I had in store for the boy.  I had specifically not given any details, it gets the mind to work better in that way. But by the end of the day, it was clear that the mind fuck had worked!

It was also clear to the boy, of my disappointment and unhappiness with the boy and how things have been.

So, the boy was given instructions when he got home to remove his underwear when he asked permission to walk the dog and told that he must wear the tight fitting pegs on his nipples while out on the walk also.  Not to cause pain, but to cause discomfort, a reminder. Just to maybe let him know that although the seed was planted, that it wasn't just going to be a mind fuck.

The need to undress and then dress again just to go out, making him think and focus, something very much needed after recent days!

In the evening I sent him a text to make sure that he had certain things ready.  This included pegs, an empty glass, a plate, the tube of deep heat that I had him purchase before Christmas and some cotton buds.  I had him send a photo to know that they were ready.

I have to say, it pissed me off slightly when he didn't even acknowledge the text and I had to send him a further text. Not a good start for the boy, and it only fuelled the fire, MY fire that he was going to indeed suffer.

The boy asked what he should do.

I told him to sit and await instructions.

Disappointing once again that the boy chose to "watch tv" while awaiting instructions. NOT what he had been asked to do.  But he will learn, to listen or take note of the instructions.

Again, it just made things worse. For him.

It made me feel more pissed off.

More determined that he would remember exactly what he was about to go through and why.

Some 30 mins later, I requested his company. 

We had the discussion as detailed in the last blog (about the journey and STOP! sign) because I had to be sure that the boy wanted to be on this journey, I wasn't going to waste my time punishing him for his disappointing behaviour if the reality was, he wanted out or was just playing a game.  With that cleared up, with things to work on and towards I ordered the boy to go to bed, to remove his clothes.

Now he was to see, it wasn't a mind fuck.  The boy said he had quite literally been shitting himself!

Perfect!

We continued our conversation, the boy assured me that this is what he wants. 

And so, having planted the seed, having watched it grow, it was time to reep the rewards.

Rewards for me that is and not him!

The boy has yet to blog about it, but there will be pictures of the things that he was asked to do, there will be his own description of the feelings he went through, and I will link to it from this blog. 

Edited to update the boy has now done his blog entry and it can be found on this link HERE

But, the boy, mistakenly thought it was all a mind fuck.

BIG MISTAKE!

He thought it was all a game just to mess with his mind.

The boy thought wrong!

The boy now knows that I don't do "games", mind fuck or not.

I could tell the boy was frustrated from his sighs and moans, hearing how desperate he is to touch and hear him moan and groan, always gets me! It makes me want to frustrate him even more, it makes me aroused, and I never hide that arousal from the boy as it makes his frustrations felt even more!
It is one of those things that I like, the fact that I am controlling the boy and his frustrations are down to me.

Control is my thing. 

I asked him if he wanted to touch.  "yes please" the boy said, so I thought I would ask him to make sure.  I had in some way, hoped that he would have declined, hoping that the conversation we had only 30 mins or so earlier regarding his focus on release and my cock would have sunk in.

It hadn't.

Disappointment.

I said "Are you sure?"

"Yes Mistress"

My mind was made up at that point, that the boy would regret it.  The thoughts I had from earlier in the morning had grown beyond what I had in thought from that point.

The boy touched.

When my cock was hard, I made him get a cotton bud and place it into the deep heat.  To wipe that deep heat around under the head of the cock.  To then dip a cotton bud back into the deep heat and to place it right down into the eye of his cock. 

It was clear it was already beginning to sting and hurt.  When the boy said "It stings", I made him twiddle it a bit more. 

The boy would learn!

From that point, with the cotton bud sticking out of My cock, I had him take two pegs and clamp the foreskin over the end of the cock.

Then, I sat back and waited.

It hurt.

Good!

It burned.

Good!

I made the boy twiddle the cotton bud some more.  Then I made him pull each peg off the skin.  A quiet "ouch" from the boy.

"I so fucking want to hurt you boy!" I told him.  And he was getting off lightly to how much I would have hurt him if I had gotten my hands on him.

When I asked him on a scale of 1-10 how much it burned.

"9" was the boys reply.

Same question about how much it hurt

"9" was the boys reply.

I didn't want 9.

I wanted 10.

I told him to dip the cotton bud back into deep heat and place it back into the end of his cock. To rub it around. The boys pleas "Oh no Mistress not again. Please not again"  simply made me tell him to shut up and get on with it.

I don't do sympathy.  I don't do begging.  It only made me want to hurt him all the more!

Fuck! I wanted him to hurt.

I wanted him to be totally aware of how his behaviour has been unacceptable and I wanted him to learn that I can be more of a Bitch than he has seen, witnessed or even thought. 

My sadistic needs even surprise me at times LOL

I made him repeat, more deep heat into the eye of his cock. 

Hearing his pleas, hearing his suffering, only made me want to hurt him more!

I made the boy play with my cock, to make it hard, to rub the deep heat into the skin so it would take effect. And take effect it did, to the point of where, the boy couldn't stop his orgasm because he couldn't feel it coming.

I actually found this quite amusing.  I knew the deep heat in the eye would make the cock less sensitive, even numb it. So it didn't surprise me.

But did the boy ask permission to orgasm?

No!

Now, this wasn't amusing to me.

One of the basic rules that has been in place from day 1. 

The boy asked to go to toilet. I told him to piss in the glass I had made him get ready for me.

He did this.

I made him drink it.

He did. 

His comment about how disgusting it tasted. Tough!

Made him take photos just to add to the humiliation, so that he can put them on his blog, so that it will serve as a reminder that a) I don't play games, that b) not to forget to ask for permission and c) that his behaviour has been unacceptable, but that it stops here.

The boy will learn. Even if the hard way.

The only thing that eased the disappointment about the orgasm and his not asking permission, was the fact that, when he said he couldn't stop it, I told him to stop playing.  His stopping touching my cock meant that while he came, he had no pleasure from it.  He didn't experience a full orgasm, or as in the boys words "it was ruined".

Good!

The boy didn't deserve release. He didn't deserve any pleasure from what happened last night.

So, I was pleased it was ruined. 

But anyway, hopefully the boy is learning from last night, from the conversation, from what we discussed and from all that happened.

He said he came close to calling me some names. Well, thats good. It means that it had some of the effect I was hoping for.

Lets hope we move forward and that all is rosey in the garden!

Life is a journey . . .

Life is a journey indeed. . .


The road we travel can never be straight forward, it can never be one which goes forward without having its bumps, sharp corners, without having to change direction, take forks in the road or without coming to a STOP! sign that needs time out for reflection.


The journey with the boy is new.



And I didn't really expect at such an early stage that the journey would at this point in time be reaching a bump in the road, would be reaching a potential fork or indeed more so, a STOP! sign.

But recent days on the journey, hasn't made for a particular smooth or easy journey. 

At times, frustratingly so, it was as if there has been a red traffic light, and that the boy has got caught up somewhere along the road and hasn't yet caught up.  And, with everything going on, I know that I have left it a little too long to take action.

Something that will not happen from this point on!

Actually, its been rather difficult to describe the past few days.  Some of this is new territory to us both ~ "distance" isn't something that I normally would do.  But, having been drawn to the boy, to his natural submissive depths, it was something that I decided I would work with because of the hope and potential for what the future may bring. 

And it is going to make the journey harder yes.  But, the things that we want in life is never easy.

But, our journey, did reach the point of needing a STOP! sign. 

Time out for reflection and open discussion.

Time to see whether the other side of the stop sign has a single road, or a fork in the road.

In all honesty, there have been times during the past couple of days, where the boys behaviour and what has at times seemed like a total disregard for the control that I have has been to say, rather disappointing. 

The boy has been in chastity for some 70 days, 50 days without an orgasm.  Yes it is a milestone, and I am incredibly pleased with the boy in how he has not only coped with such denial, but just how well he has done with the levels of frustration.

But, it seems that in some ways, the extended chastity, seems to have had a negative effect, that it has taken the boys focus from selflessly serving, to being a right pain in the ass and focussed only on his own selfish wants to have release.  He knows that I am dismissive of his frustrations.  I do not care whether he has been denied 1 day, 1 month or more.  But, upon reflection, I can see that such extended chastity has not had the required desire or outcome.

Now I know distance plays a part in that.  There are other factors too.  It means that things have to change and I have to implement these changes.  It means that we have to reflect, and to be very aware at the point where the boy becomes so focussed on serving because of his desperation for release turns into ugly attempts at trying to do anything for his own self and pleasure, for the release he wants.

There is a point the boy has reached where the extended denial has changed the boy from a boy focussed on wanting to please, serve and pleasure his Mistress, to being an ugly, self serving, self focussed sub, who has constantly mentioned about his want, his desire to touch.

I know he is frustrated.  I don't care.  What I do care about is when something which is being implemented to focus the boy, focusses him in the wrong way.

This past week has been a lesson in that for me, and something that I will certainly take forward.  Life is certainly a journey, one upon which we all continually learn.  But in my opinion, and as this is my blog I can give my opinion, learning is always positive, even if the learning comes from a negative situation.

 But, I will be honest and say that his behaviour has really disappointed me. It isn't acceptable and that had to be made perfectly clear to the boy.

Any dynamic or relationship where a "distance" is involved, causes issues and problems of its own.  I get that.

I am quite aware of that. 

But it has during recent days really seemed as if all of the things that the boy and I have discussed, the rules that have been in place have been somewhat ignored.  The boy notices and says "Oh I have forgotten to do that", and yes he has.  But, it has been frustrating that the boy has been noticing it more AFTER the event, than at the time, or indeed before it.  The boys focus it seems has drifted.

It is up to me, to make sure that focus is where it should be. And if it drifts, to ensure that it doesn't drift far or that the boy is made to refocus through whatever means necessary. 

Now at the moment, that focus cannot be forcing the boy down between my legs for extended worship, or to have him on his knees attending my feet. That is unfortunate.  But, we have to work with the situation we are in and make it work.

The boy and I, had a long conversation last night, I asked him if submitting to such a level that our road will take us, is ultimately what he wants.  I have neither the time, the desire or the inclination to make any journey with someone who doesn't or isn't on the same road that I am on and I would rather that when we get to a fork in the road that if someone feels they need to take the opposite one than I am taking, then that is what they should do.

It appears that the boy, has been struggling in some things, but what the boy has failed to do, is to be transparent with me in those struggles, and to express his concerns.  Now this doesn't have anything to do with the fact that we do not communicate, we talk often and very openly. So it makes it even more frustrating when you realise that the boy has not been open, has not been transparent. 

So, yesterday, we were at that STOP! sign.

A time to really take a look at where things are, and how things must change to progress in the right direction.  Maybe it was a time for a fork in the road, and I asked the boy to ensure that he still wants to head in the same direction. 

He does. 

But there are things which will now be implemented to ensure that the boy is grasping the instructions in place, that he is fully aware of the rules and permissions that are currently part of the dynamic and which will continue to grow.  I have to some extent, been somewhat lenient at times, knowing that this is so new to the boy. 

But, that stops now. 

That leniency is going to remain at the STOP! sign.

He thinks I am a Bitch already.

The boy has yet to see just how much of a Bitch I can be.  He has yet to see just what this is for me.  It isn't a game. I don't play games.

D/s, FLR, O&P all of the things that I want from a future relationship are MY reality. Things that I need and want.

I don't settle.

I don't do second best.

But, I am prepared to put in all the effort and time that I can, to ensure that the boy is on the same path, the same journey.

We will be going back a few steps, introduction of rules and permissions and we will make sure the boy grasps what he is doing, if he doesn't, then he will be on the receiving end of punishments.   Of course again, something which "distance" plays a part in.  Although, the boy, realised last night, that distance doesn't stop punishment. That it doesn't stop being made to feel humiliated.  That it doesn't stop me letting the boy know exactly how things are.

I have asked the boy to consider the implementation of a contract with rules, it works for some, it doesn't for others.  I think that contracts have a very big part to play in relationships of D/s, even in FLRs.  

And as this blogs title "She makes the rules".  If it is the right way to go for us, then that is what will happen.

My way. My rules.

Distance does mean that things need to be worked at more. I am very aware of that.  I am also aware of the boys continual growing "addiction" as he refers to it as (or is it obsession?!) and his neediness too.  So, there are things that need to be put in place.  The boy expressed that he feels my ownership of him all of the time, which, with distance involved is at least one positive.  If he can feel that even from a distance, if he can feel that he is mine, then, hopefully the rest will start falling into place.

But, the past week or so, has been tiring. 

As someone said, it is the job of the sub to make their Dominants life easier and if it isn't, then something is wrong.  It hasn't been easier for me.  Hence the STOP! sign.

It was that thought that stuck in my mind yesterday which led to the boy being very aware of my disappointment, of my being unhappy with the situation.  Which led to really the boys very first punishment.

But, we have spoken, we are aware of the things that we are going to do, things that are going to be put in place, and I also witnessed last night, how close the boy came to calling me a Bitch when I made him suffer a little bit more! *evil grin*

Time will show the boy, just how much more he has to come his way.

So, no journey is without its bumps, its turns or its corners. 

But, the STOP! sign, is the times to reflect and be open and honest about the way forward and at these times to know whether there is a straight single road on the other side of it, or a fork in the road in different directions.

The other side of this STOP! sign for us at this time is a single road.

I hope it will continue to be that way.

Life is a journey .  . .not the destination.

But, lets hope the boy gets his ass into gear for the next part of the journey, otherwise it will be more than my cock burning! It will be more than his own piss he will be drinking.

Need I say more.

I know what you mean

"Frustrated Mistress" when I ask how the boy is feeling.


It is a common theme in the boys response, the one word that you can guarantee will come from the boys mouth.

Hardly surprising with the length of time the boy has been denied the chance to touch, to edge, let alone orgasm.


But, I know what you mean.

You mean . . . "god, please let me touch your cock, play with it and allow me to edge. Please let me edge until I can hold back no more. Please don't tease me anymore with the frustrations of being denied and allow me to orgasm.  Please let me give in to the frustrations, to know how it feels to cum once more. Please hear my desperation, my longing to touch, please hear the times I am close to screaming with how you deny me"

And all you say is "Frustrated Mistress".

But I know what you mean.

"I want to feel the pain you want to give me" the boy says. 

And I know what you mean.

You mean "I want to feel the pain as you pinch and torture my nipples, clamping them hard making me cry out in pain. I want to feel the pain that you inflict upon my body, I can take it hard, so don't go easy, just beat me and hurt me and make me cry with the release from the pain"

And you mean so much more. 

Frustrated, Pain, simple words, but so much more behind them.

But I know what you mean. 

You don't need to say more.  You don't need to say anything as I can tell how you're feeling even without words. 

Whether it is one word, a hundred words or none at all, I know what you mean.

But what if I don't care how frustrated you are?

What if I don't want to hear anything else apart from your frustration.

What if I don't want to give you any pain? 

I won't.

But I know what you mean.

Submission is . . .

“Submission is giving her the Power to destroy you and Trusting her not to.”

So very very true . . .

Domination is having that power.

Taking it.

Knowing you can destroy them at any time.

But always having the control not to.

And I will. Take it. . .

And I do know it . . .

Reflections on the old . . .thoughts for the new . . .

The end of a year. 
The beginning of a new. 

A time which has a tendency for reflections of more than just the past twelve months. 

A time which tends to emphasise the bad things that have happened, the losses that have been felt, or the big changes that life may have witnessed.

The end of this year is no different.

Except in some ways, the ending of this year is different for me, in ways I never expected it to be, never thought it would be and certainly never planned it to be.

But then, sometimes, things happen when we least expect, when we are not seeking, or searching or feeling desperate to find.  And as I reflect back upon the year that has past it has been filled with those moments that I will be glad to leave safely in the past year, things that I have no intention of taking forward with me (nor would I want to if given the chance). 

But I also know that this year has brought me something that I really didn't expect, even though I have always known there would be a time when I wuld want to find that one thing that I need within my life, I never thought that I would be going into the new year in the situation that I am.

The boy came along quite unexpectedly. 

And as he said to me last night, he has been surprised at just how well we have gotten along and in some ways, yes, it is probably that way.  To begin with, we were so diverse in our needs and wants in terms of our views and wants from all that is D/s, BDSM, or FLR, but that diversity is what, over most recent weeks has enabled me to know that what I want from a future relationship, is something that can become a reality.

I have known, what I want, for a long time now.  All that I want, desire but more so need.  It has never been a "fantasy" view, I have always known it can be a reality, and I have always said that I would rather not enter into a relationship than to enter into something which fell short of the mark, which didn't meet the needs that I have.  The only real thing stopping that reality being reality was finding someone to share it, who is really at the opposite end of the D/s scale.

While we cannot predict the year that we have now moved into, of what may be, or of what it may bring we can enter into the year with hope.  Hope for what may be.  Hope that there is that chance that the opposite end of that scale has been found. . .

And as such, I have hope for what may come my way. Our way.

And for the first time in several years, that hope exists in a way it hasn't before.

This time of year always makes me think of the losses that have been felt in life, those who are absent, those who have been there but are no longer.  In some ways, they will always be there, but I am here and I am moving into the new with hope and positive thoughts and the reflections on the old are not tinged with the sadness or pain that has often been there.

Losses are still felt.

Difficulties are still a part of what life has thrown our way.

But amongst those is the hope to move forward, taking steps to a reality that I have always known that I wanted and would have, I just never thought that this year, would be that year.

So with thoughts for the new, we have hope . . .

Driving force of emotions

"I think all of dominance and submission is about emotion at its core and the physical is a way to get there."

I saw this today, on a comment someone had left on another blog.  And it is so very true.  There is so much emotion at the very core of D/s but it is the physical which is just a way to get there.

It isn't about the act itself, it is the emotion behind it.  It isn't the act of humiliation, it is the feelings that lie beneath it.  It isn't about how the pain is inflicted, it is about the feelings that come from and with that pain.

It isn't about how the tears are created, its about the emotion that fall within them.  The feelings that it then creates as I watch them fall.

And I love the emotions that come with D/s, that come from Domination and Dominating, I love the emotions that come from witnessing the submitting and submission. 

And the emotions are at the core of the dynamic, the emotions whatever they are, are the driving force within the relationship. And the physical?

Well, the physical is just the ways to get those emotions, to create them, to cause them, to have them.

So many emotions, so many feelings. All of which are at the core of it all.

It is the emotions that are the driving force.

The physical just gets us there.

I don't want this kiss to end.

As I wrote on this blog HERE kissing is very underrated, and I miss it.

I think about it often. 

Of wanting to lean in for a gentle long, lingering kiss. 

A moment of deep sensual and seductive joining of mouths, searching with a tongue, a gentle nibble on the lips.

I think about it often, because I love it. 

And I know I say that often, and there are LOTS of things that I love. But I make no apologies for talking about the things that I like and I will certainly make no apologies for writing about it either.  In fact, I think we can be safe in saying I will probably write about it often.

Kissing is such a beautiful thing. Regardless whether it is a soft, sensual kiss, or aggressive meeting of mouths and biting and tongues, whether it is rough and harsh being forced against the wall with pulled hair and slapped faces. 

It is beautiful.

When I updated my profile picture on here last night, the boy asked me if I liked to look down when I kiss.  And it started me thinking and I have been thinking about it ever since.

And yes I do, like to look down while I kiss, I like to have the control of how that kiss will be, of its strength, of its depth, I like to be able to pull away at the last moment watching as he moves his lips searching for mine to be touched.

I long to feel that moment of lips touching, gently grazing a waiting mouth, as he stands before me looking into my eyes, his eyes showing the longing that he feels, betraying the inner desires that his own body betrays just as much. It makes my stomach lurch, it makes me breath deeply with my own longing and desire.  And a gentle kiss can create so much desire, such a deep longing.

And as he stands before me, "Kneel" I say, in a gentle voice, and my stomach lurches even more as he falls to his knees, his eyes still focussed on mine, except now he looks up at me, the same longing, the same desire. And it goes straight through my body as I gently lean in and go to touch his lips with mine, and he searches for mine like a baby bird taking food from its mother.

And I pull away, controlling the moment when lips touch, savouring the longing and desire that sits within his eyes.  I lean down and gently run my fingers along the side of his cheek, gently touching the side of his face, running my fingernails across the lips that are longing for so much more.  And his eyes begin to close with the touch, and just as they close I bring my hand back and slap him across the cheek.  His eyes spring open, searching for mine as he tries to focus as his mind is confused between the change in touch from something so light as a feather to a stinging unexpected slap.

And I lean forward and down, and gently allow my lips to touch the reddened skin from my slap, and my hand goes under his chin and raises his mouth up towards mine and as our lips meet I can feel the longing from his lips, his desperation as he aggressively tries to get into my mouth with his tongue.  And I long to explore with force and bite his lip so hard that he pulls back, and I reach round and grab a fistful of hair with my hand forcing him towards me, not allowing him to pull away from the desire that I feel and want to inflict upon him.

And we hold it, that moment, that long lingering kiss with depth of passion and desire, and I feel it as it knots within my stomach and the desire as it works its way down between my legs.  And I look into his eyes and watch as they begin to drift into a place, a window into the depths of his own desires, his own place, his own submission.

And I cannot bear to pull away.  I cannot bear to break that moment. But it makes me want so much more, and I twist the fistful of hair as I bring his mouth towards mine even harder, aggressively searching and probing and kissing.

And oh god I have missed those moments, that feeling so goddamn much.

And in that moment as I stop, and draw away from him, I can see even more the longing within his eyes, the knowing that I have total control over that moment, over him.  And I study his eyes and the look upon his face, a look of such longing that makes me want to slap his face, to bite his lips or to push him down on his back and place myself above his mouth, grinding my wetness over his mouth, his face.

And all the while he looks at me, not breaking the gaze, and I watch as his lips still search longingly for mine, his mouth open just slightly, and the eyes are drifting, and his eyelids begin to gently close as he is lost in the desire and longing. 

And as I lean in to kiss you once more, he closes his eyes, and I love how you react to my closeness and I love the longing that comes from every pore of your body, and still you kneel before me, naked and baring your own desires.  Your lips are so full, so gentle as they make contact with mine and I run my fingers through your hair, along your face, and I trace the outline of your cheeks and nose and mouth. 

I pull back, my fingers tracing the outline of your reddened lips, and I force my finger between your lips and watch as your mouth automatically opens and allows my finger in, and your instant reaction where you begin to suck and lick my finger, taking it all into your mouth.  And my stomach lurches and twists even more, and the longing grows by the minute, my body aching with desire, my head light with the same desire.

And I have missed it, these moments, these moments of intimacy and desire.  I have missed the feel of lips upon mine.  And as I lean back in for more of the kiss, I have even missed it in that short moments of time.  And I guide your mouth with my own, and I force your lips apart with my tongue, and I search and control its depth and the longing, the strength and the gentleness, and still your eyes explore my own.

This is one of those moments you do not want to end, one of those times when you want the kiss to linger on, and I want to drink you all in, its a kiss that makes every inch of the body tingle with desire, and you feel the blood pumping around the body, and the body is betrayed by a gentle flow of its own juices.

And I miss those moments, and I do not want those moments to end.  Because there is something so beautiful of that moment, its gentleness, of how seductive and sensual, of the meeting of lips and the exchanges of desires.

And it is beautiful.

And I long for it even more.

And I don't want this kiss to end.

Close to the edge.

I LOVE limits. 

I love how people have them and how those limits change with a deepening mindset.  That as the need to submit grows, the need to please comes above and beyond so many things, that those limits that were once limits, or things which someone would never thought they would do, get pushed and happen.

This has been the case with the boy.  The boy commented how it maybe difficult over Christmas time due to the reduced amount of contact we would have, both of us spending the holidays with our respective families, knowing that we would be limited to text contact or an occasional chat on the phone.

We had talked about the levels of control that I am taking, and that day by day that level goes higher and higher.  The boy often talks about how he is addicted to being controlled in this way, addicted to his Mistress and the way in which I push him, frustrate him.  But I also know how difficult it can be when you crave that contact and it isn't there, and how hard it can be to then keep focus or to always feel that ownership.

I wanted the boy, regardless of where we were over the Christmas period to remember exactly what he is, to remember exactly who has control of him, his body, his actions.

I wanted him to have something that would serve as a reminder, that even if we didn't have contact, that I was there, that I was still controlling him.

When the boy packed to go away I told him to take the hold up stockings I had him purchase just before Christmas and some pegs.  No intention to use the pegs particularly unless he pissed me off. But full intentions of using the stockings and making him wear them. (The boy later commented on returning home that he could see now that the pegs had simply been a mind fuck!) *grins*


I knew, that this would be a limit for the boy, wearing his stockings while with his family. That even though he had worn them out while shopping that wearing them while with his family would put him through a whole range of emotions and feelings. Fear, humiliation, the not knowing if people would notice. 

Especially when he had said that while wearing them to the shop his mind was playing games telling him that they were falling down. And that he had to keep checking.  He had to keep checking on Christmas Day to and this all helped to serve as a reminder to the boy.  Just as planned. Just as I had hoped and intended.


To be honest, there was a part of me that knew the boy would do as he was told.  The ever growing need to submit and please, his level of subservience becomes clearer by the day, but there was also a part of me that knew I was on the edge of a limit for him and I did wonder if he would say "I cannot do it".

I casually mentioned in a text that he was to wear them for the day.

During the day, the boy sent me a photograph of him wearing the stockings.

He wrote his own thoughts and feelings about having to wear them in this blog HERE and when we talked on the phone on the evening of Christmas Day, I knew that it hadn't been an easy thing to do, that it really had been a limit the boy had pushed.

I was pleased with the boy.  Pleased with what he had done because he had wanted to please me.  How can anyone not be? How can anyone not love that response to an instruction? How can anyone not love having that control over someone?

I do and I do love it.

It was clear at that moment that the boys need to submit and please has reached a level where it goes above and beyond many things, and that is something incredibly wonderful. And it did show to me the depths of the boys submission, the level of control that exists to this point and just how much I will be able to push the boy.

The boy however, was expecting a reward that evening, of being given permission to touch my cock or to edge for being such a good boy.  One thing the boy will learn is that making hints at me, will not work.  Making suggestions or "demands" however subtle will not work.  That I will decide the rewards he receives, that it may not even for him seem a reward at all.

The boy will learn my indifference.

But the boy will learn just how his actions please me and in the ways that they please me. But that reward may come simply from being told he is a good boy, and that it may not come with some huge gesture.

Cruel?

Dismissive?

Maybe to some. In fact probably to a lot of people.  But then people will see that this is my way, that there will always be positive reinforcement, praise, but that also goes side by side with indifference, dismissiveness.

But, the boy pushed a limit I didn't think he would, but he did.  One of many limits that will be found and pushed, limits that will disappear with his ever growing need to submit and to please.

And he did, the boy pleased me.

The boy did good. *smiles*

Control. . .

I have read so many wonderful words in the past 24 hours, blogs on chastity, denial, the innermost thoughts of a submissive male and cuck, the huge range of emotions and feelings that come from his words of his reality and the intense but very powerful levels of control that his Dominant has over him. 

The need, the want, the sheer desperation to serve and please his Dominant and her lover.  There is so much beauty to Domination, to submission, so much beauty and power to surrendering and control. 

Some of his posts were touched with a tinge of sadness as the reality had changed his relationship so much, that he had given control of so much to another.  Many comments on his own blog telling him that his reality was wrong, that to give so much to another isn't right. 

It is his reality. It is his right.  And in his words there was such beauty and depth of control and submission.  Such sensuality and seductiveness in his need to submit and to go to levels of such subservience and degradation.  But something incredibly powerful about the level of control that was over him.

Powerful. Strong.  Beauty.


Reading his words, his reflections made me want to write something similarly beautiful, a reflection of something gentle, sensual and seductive.


But, I cannot. 

My mind isn't in that place at all. 

My mood isn't in that place. 

Instead it is in a place of those animalistic thoughts I have blogged about before, a much more basic and primal place.


But even then, in that place, it all comes back to control. 

The control I need, but which I also have over the boy, that even though I know he is so desperately frustrated that because I have the control I do, it fills the need!  And just as his need to submit deepens, the opposite grows with me, the need to have and to take control.  Not always with force, but with sensuality too. 


Even today, while doing the most basic of things, my mind has been alive with thoughts of taking the boy to a place where he feels so truly and utterly controlled.  Knowing that there is such a level of control over the boy that he would do almost anything.


What an incredibly powerful feeling having such control is.


But, it isn't about just having the control over the cock.  Some people believe that when you have control over a mans cock you have total control.  I do not believe this. I do not think that is quite true.


Yes there is an incredible amount of control there, but it is still about having control over the person, the mind, every part of him.  The boy certainly has more depth than that, but I know, having control over the boy in the way that I do, does catch his attention.


Just as I know when he reads these words his mind will wander, he will see the words control and that the cock will twitch, that the mind and his body will become aroused.  I love the way it is so easy to read the boy, his frustrations, to control his body in this way.  Control with so few words yet control with such a depth.


And it makes me feel alive.

It makes me excited (and I do not just mean in any sexually excited way) to know that the boy is frustrated, but also that the boy will obey, that he will submit, that he will be excited and willing and subservient.  And the deeper his need to submit, the more my need to control grows too. And it excites me that words affect him as much as any touch may do.


And I know, that there are many things which happen to his body, to my cock which arouse and excite him. But I also know that it is so much more than that too, so much more.


I know he will  want to reach down and touch himself, so desperate and longing to touch, to edge, to feel the arousal that being controlled brings to him.  I know as he reads these words his hands will be longing to do just that, that the thought will cross the boys mind, so desperate, so longing, but not giving into those urges . . .knowing that he cannot touch without permission.


Because he knows that while touching feels good, it isn't about the touching.  That it isn't about what happens to my cock that excites the most. It is all about the giving of himself to another.  Surrendering control to another . ..to Me.


I sometimes wish he could see my reactions in response to his frustrations.  I wish he could see my delighted smiles and laughter when I know just how much he  longs to touch, of that battle that goes on between his hand and his need to submit. That he aches to touch, but craves and needs the control.  The control that he is addicted to.

And I know he is addicted.  And I know that addiction, that need grows more by the day.

And I know that the desire to surrender grows by the day too, and the more it grows the more he needs to surrender, the more he needs to submit.  It is as much a part of who he is than the need and desire to control is a part of me.


Touching is good, being controlled is so much better. 


There is a sweet pain of tease and denial, and I love how the boy is so easy to tease, yet so easy to deny. And still he submits to the control that I have, his never knowing what may come next, his never knowing what lies in store for the boy. .that despite his growing frustration that I will tease him still.


But it isn't about touching, it is about the control. 

Something which is a part of the boy and his submisive need, and something which has always and will always be a part of mine!