Dominance in Pink

I believe I misjudged him...

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 22:47:06 GMT

My Boy and I played a game this weekend. I was going to be out of town from Saturday morning until Sunday evening and so, because I find keeping my Boy on his toes a good thing, I wanted to change things up a bit from our normal routines.

My Boy was allowed to masturbate as often as he liked this weekend. I had a predetermined number on my head, a limit. If he stayed below the limit, he would be rewarded, and if he went over that number, he would be punished. Frankly, as teased and horny as he's been these past two weeks, I expected him to reach double digits.

As a reward for something totally different, one of the orgasms this weekend did not count.

He orgasmed seven times, with only six of them counting. The number I chose as his limit was seven. My Boy stayed below the limit and so, he will be rewarded, with the reward of his choosing, with the privilege of orgasming inside me.

Although I found the game interesting, I don't think it's one we'll be playing again. I found the idea of his masturbating at his own whim almost...unnatural. It seemed odd to think that he'd simply decide to orgasm and then follow through on it. I'm not sure I liked the idea, in all honesty.

Overall, I am well-pleased with my Boy. He did not abuse his privilege as I thought he might and he was most grateful to be back under my control again.

Interesting scene...

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 15:42:11 GMT

For some reason, although my sex drive has been rather low, the idea of hurting my Boy has become more appealing. Not simply pinching or slapping, but actually trying to make him scream or moan in honest-to-God pain. To that end, I was a bit creative today.

Firstly, please understand that while my Boy is completely content to have his cock and balls tortured, I have, because I do not possess the same plumbing, been somewhat reluctant to truly push him. I have contented myself with slapping and squeezing his bits, but this morning, for whatever reason, I found myself more aggressive than usual.

Boy was lying on the bed, doing what he does best, which is being cute and slutty at the same time. It's a very appealing combination, let me tell you. That being said, for some reason, I wasn't in the mood to indulge his desire to masturbate, so I simply grabbed my newest flogger (a lovely little pink and black leather number) and began to hit him between his spread legs. The sheet and blanket were pulled up, so I was less afraid to genuinely damage him and, the humiliating patter began to flow rather well.

One of the most intense kinks in my Boy is the overwhelming desire to be controlled. To have his sexuality utterly controlled, down to the times he's allowed to even touch himself to wash, much less bring himself to orgasm. There's a "good Boy/bad Boy" dynamic that we play with. Good Boys are controlled and the bit of flesh between their legs is not allowed to control them. Bad Boys are not controlled, and they allow baser instincts to control them, touching themselves without regard to appropriateness or the effects it may have on their lives. It sounds so odd when I write about it, and yet, it's powerfully erotic and exciting for us.

I began to tell Boy that the best way to ensure he was a Good Boy was to beat that erection out of him, to make sure that he realized that the pathetic and useless bit of flesh between his legs was causing him this pain, and that the only way for the pain to stop was to be controlled...a Good Boy.

I stopped for a few minutes, and then began again, using a slightly more intense bit of banter along the same lines, this time however, making it seems as though he had been referred to me a pseudo-medical treatment. I was going with a "Victorian doctor" idea, the ones who would treat any bizarre "ailment," usually with an equally bizarre "cure." With the Boy blindfolded, and restrained, and covered with the blanket, I began striking his cock and balls quickly and rather hard. Several times, he reared up, and on the next to final strike, he was literally in tears (although I will note his erection was not reduced by the rather copious amounts of pain). I struck him once more, and then began scene after-care.

I am unsure as to why this is so appealing to me. I struggle, rather often, with the fact that I am a sadist, and I enjoy hurting my Boy simply to see the expression on his face. However, the idea of controlling his sex and sexuality is immensely powerful for me, and I enjoyed this morning intensely. The eroticism of his moaning in pain while I derided him for the pathetic organ that he allowed to control his actions? Oh God, how delicious. The added thrill of seeing him writhe in erotic humiliation? How powerful and arousing.

All in all, a wonderful morning.

Interesting isn't exactly the word I would use...

Tue, 03 Jul 2007 02:05:47 GMT

But I suppose that it shall work.

As my darling subboy_2004 noted, I have indeed been cross-dressing him. After the experience with my ex-husband, I was terribly afraid that I would be utterly squicked by the sight of my boy in a skirt and stockings, but somehow...I am not. I am not sure if it's that my boy is still signaling "masculine" because he's not changing his voice or his hair, or even attempting to look as anything but a tarted-up male, but the sight of Boy in his skimpy skirt, a tied up white button-down and stockings rather trips my aggressive "fuck him until he screams" trigger.

Oddly enough, cross-dressing used to be a hard limit for me.

Tonight, I was surprised and flattered that Boy took the initiative to not only dress himself up in his whorish outfit, but he also painted his nails and put on his own makeup. I do think I spoiled his surprise by wandering in on him, but it was pleasing to me to see him taking the initiative.

We've speculated on why it is that he's interested in the forced feminization (even if it's only self-imposed), and I believe it's the need to be smaller and weaker, to be taken advantage of and forced. He can enjoy himself that way. There is no more conflict between the masculine self that he shows to society and the submissive bitch he is at home. I find the dichotomy to be delicious and arousing. I like fucking him when he's dressed up to rival the cheapest hooker on the boulevard, and he likes getting fucked when he's dressed that way. He can, by accepting his role as slut, allow himself to completely enjoy the experience.

We have talked about how far this will go, and I am comfortable with our activities. Besides, *someone* has to wear the skirts around here, and it isn't me.

It's kind of funny...

Sun, 20 May 2007 03:14:22 GMT

But there are days when I'm so terribly grateful that I'm in a kink relationship and that I'm on top.

In my mundane LJ, one of the people on my f-list is having a bad night. Her SO is being a jerk, and bailed out on her after playing WoW all afternoon.

The advice I gave her was to find someone to scream at, preferably a professional. The advice I would like to give is this:

Grab that ungrateful wretch of a boy. Throw him over your lap and beat his butt until he screams. Then, using whatever method you like to keep him still, explain the new rules of the house.

Rule number one: WoW is a computer game. It is not reality, and I will throw your computer out the window the next time you ignore me for a game. Try me. Please.

Rule number two: Yes, your friends are important. However, if you say that we do not have the gas money to take me anywhere, then when your friends call up needing a ride, the answer is no. When you entered into a relationship with me, you decided that I come first. I will never attempt to come between you and your friends, however I am the first relationship priority in your life.

Rule number three: Congratulations. You have decided that I am a low priority for you, so, I have decided to make sure that you are more focused on me. You will not have an orgasm this week. You will not jerk off unless I give you permission and you will never orgasm without my consent. If you would like to push this issue, I have a CB-3000 and a small Masterlock and I will use them on you. Try me. Please.

There would, of course, be more rules, but I think this would work for the shock treatment.

Life is good...

Wed, 09 May 2007 01:30:31 GMT

I am tired and I hurt, but living with my Boy is better than I'd ever dreamed it could be. I have, as he has so cheekily noted, been nesting a bit and right now, the sheer scope of the amount of unpacking left to do makes me cringe.

However, the sex has been incredible. Just to be able to reach out when I am aroused, to be able to touch him, to push him down and take what I want, to grab a Boy and to do whatever strikes my fancy.

I wish that I could say more, that more came to my fingers as I sit in front of the computer, but right now...I am mute from happiness.

Well...it's getting closer!

Mon, 29 Jan 2007 01:57:18 GMT

I leave for Europe just after Valentine's Day to see my Boy. Finally. He should be back from Iraq about three days after I get to Germany, and then, we will have until the middle of March together. After that, we will fly home to the United States to spend yet more time together.

It will be wonderful.

Wonderful.

Oh dear...

Fri, 26 Jan 2007 22:28:41 GMT

I will blame this on a not-to-be-named boy:

www.sinulatortoys.com

I think that perhaps I need a shower and this toy for my Boy. Oh, the hours and hours of entertainment it could provide!

Oh my stars and garters!

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 17:44:57 GMT

What do you get when you have a domme who loves romance novels, a sub with a history fetish and time on his hands, and a shared love of writing?

A kinky romance novel set in post-Roman Britain, with a Pictish heroine.

Excuse me while I go giggle for a while. My Boy just called and we spent the entire half hour chatting about fictional characters.

Oh dear.

Mmmmm....

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 15:23:02 GMT

How delicious it is to play with my Boy when he is in a fairly public place and can't do much more than whimper and beg in a whisper.

How delicous it is to hear him squirm.

God how I miss him.

Please, let us get through this last few months, and then...it shall be as it is supposed to be. We shall be together, and life will be good.

Growing...

Mon, 04 Dec 2006 16:09:04 GMT

I find myself exhibiting more "domme"-ish behaviors lately. There have been times when my Boy and I are on the phone and I'll say something that would have never crossed my mind three years ago. Something along the lines of this is how our relationhsip is supposed to be, or just rather...dominant. From what I've been able to tell, my Boy rather likes this trend.

Although we are very sexually monogamous, I have had the opportunity to play with another boy. He's a bit younger than I am, and still, I think, figuring out his kinks and how far they truly go. He's a lovely boy, tall and lean, with a delectable ass. There are so many naughty thoughts that run through my mind when I think of him, although I've no idea if any of them will come true, or if they'll freak him out.

I think that I'm a bit more of a sadist than he is a masochist, and I don't know how far his actual submissive tendencies go, and whether it's a physical need as much as an emotional one, or if, when he does finish fighting off his own demons, he'll come to realize that he doesn't need to be topped.

He's a bit hard to read, silent most times, and I must judge what his reactions are by very subtle clues. This is a bit of a struggle sometimes, but I hope that with time and patience, he will learn that verbal cues are extremely effective and that vast enjoyment is gained from talking a bit.

One of these days, I would like for him to write down his fantasies for me, whether they involve me, or another boy, or both or none, and send them to me, to see if I can judge whether or not I should even be playing with him

Ah well...these are, in actuality, things I can do little about.

In other news, we are less than three months away from my Boy's redeployment from Iraq.

I'm very cautiously allowing myself to hope that he will indeed be home for Easter.

It is good.

Mon, 03 Jul 2006 23:07:17 GMT

My Boy is home for the next two weeks, and life is...wonderful. There has been much laughter, much touching, and much loving.

I am, in a few words...exquisitely happy.

Dark and lonely tonight.

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 01:37:55 GMT

There are so many days when I wish that I could crawl into a hole and pull it in after me. Tonight is one of those times.

I'm supposed to be helping to stabilize a friend who's suicidal. How the fuck am I supposed to do that when I understand how he feels and think sometimes it's not such a bad idea.

It's funny, but I'm closer to my Boy coming home with every day, but I just want to run away from life.

So lonely.

Fri, 09 Jun 2006 00:18:48 GMT

Tonight, I'm feeling it more than normal. I want to crawl into bed, curl up around my teddy bear and bawl until the ache that has taken up permanent residence in the vicinity of my heart goes away. It won't though, not for a long, long time.

Being lonely is nothing new, honestly. I've been lonely, in one way or another, for most of my life. Either too young, too old, too smart, too weird, too liberal or too conservative. Too out of touch with pop culture, too snobbish with regards to the books I read and the movies I watch. Too oddball a sense of human. Too many things that make me different. I've always been the odd duck, the one with pink feathers when everyone else had blue, and by the time I'd turned my feathers blue, everyone had green. I'm always a step out of time, and some days it hurts.

Normally, I shrug it off. I laugh and say that being alone is my choice. I don't know that it is. I have no friends here. No one that I can call and go hang out with. No one to catch a movie with. No one to go grab a bite with, and no one to just remind me that if I die, someone other than my parents will miss me. My parents would, don't get me wrong. My folks live about three miles from me, and I hang out regularly with my mom, she's just that cool, but it's not quite the same.

I don't make friends easily. I have problems socializing, and no one believes that. I do. The idea of just going out and doing Something To Meet New People makes me want to throw up. The idea of trying to find someone who I can just click with is retarded and seems vaguely pathetic somehow, like no one else ever had to work at friendships.

I'd just like to have something that resembled a social life. You know, where I actually go out and do something (other than go get blitzed at some cheap dive, since that seems to be my co-workers' idea of a good time). Ideally, I'd get to do something my husband, but he's 9000 miles or so away, and the amount of time that we've still left to go seems like an eternity most days.

It's funny when you don't hear any noise in the apartment. I don't really even talk to myself when I'm alone. You can hear the whoosh of the AC unit, and the frantic scrabbling of fingers on the keys, but that's it. Nothing more. No laughter, no debate, nothing. Just quiet, and I think it's suffocating me.

The pudding box....

Wed, 07 Jun 2006 02:58:12 GMT

Should not make you think of beating your Boy. It really shouldn't, but I think it's a by-product of not seeing him in so long.

Soon, please God. We should know about his visit in the next several weeks, and then, I will be on pins and needles until the day I pick him up from the airport. Expect a tremedous and horrible crash after he is gone.

Parting from him in August was quite possibly the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I did not handle my return to Iraq well. I'm still not handling this separation with anything resembling grace, damn my eyes, but I am getting through.

Each day is another 24 hours gone, another sunset, another sunrise closer to holding my boy in may arms. Each day is one day closer to feeling his skin and his breath and to just reach out and touch him.

One of the things my boy and I talk of, fairly often, is the fact that we are so in love that it would be scary if the other did not feel the same way. I have never understood what prompted Juliet to take her own life after Romeo's suicide, but I do now. I would not do it, but I understand the absolute lack of the desire to breathe after your love is taken from you. My boy is my breath and my heart, and every day I wonder more at his love. He is, quite simply, the most incredible thing in my life, and every morning I wake up terrified that I have dreamed him, dreamed our love and our marriage.

I was thinking about my most precious possessions today. I have realized that my wedding rings and my "belle dame sans merci" ring are my two most precious possessions. Not because of the gold, or the diamonds in them, but because right now, they are my most tangible link to my husband. If I ever doubt that he exists, the weight on my hands will remind me. There are times I stare at my rings, hardly daring to believe they're real, and that I am indeed part of such a magnificent and glorious love.

If I have not said it recently, my sweetest Boy, I love you so very much.

Getting better...

Thu, 17 Nov 2005 08:27:31 GMT

Still trying to avoid thinking about the next year. I know that I will be so busy that I will hardly have time to breathe, but the ache will stil be there.

Oh well. I am waiting on some critiquing on my application materials for a school, and then I should send them all off. I am going to go poke at the person who's supposed to be critting my photgraphs, and see if that yields anything but a broken stick.

My sweetest Boy got some new toys, and oh my. I had forgotten exactly how much fun he is with a vibrator in him. We kept going back and forth, from kinky to the mundane, all the while he had a lovely vibrator buzzing away.

He got very close to orgasm, then I told him to put it all away, and go back into his cage. I'm rather looking forward to talking to him this afternoon. I'd like to see how attentive and desperate he is.

:-)

Lonliness...

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 09:07:54 GMT

My Boy mentioned feeling lonely, and I must confess that I am lonely as well.

I am surrounded by people. I live with another person, there are six people in the trailer itself. I am never truly physically alone, but in my heart and my soul I am, constantly.

This place is never silent. If the sound of the people in the next room doesn't bleed through the walls, the sound of the helicopters or the humvees or the small drones that fly overheard creeps into and over and through everthing. The silence is incomplete, even in the middle of the night when the stars hang quiet and cold in the sky and the glow on the horizon is pale and distant.

The inside of my heart is a quiet cavern, though. The small sounds of a life roll around like marbles in a vast bowl, the tiny clicking sounds of contact echoing up the walls in minutes that drag by like days. The sounds climb those walls, peeking over to slip like tears down a sheet of glass, smooth and impermeable, cold.

The glass is clear in some places, where the sun shines though, leaving a warm spot, passion and love and desire and intimacy hot enough to blister the tender flesh beneath it. In other places, it is tainted, stained with an oily rainbow of prickly anger and fear and despair, sins reflecting grey and grim and dreary on the landscape of my heart.

The time that we have spent together is hoarded like a miser's treasure, hidden and safe and precious. Those memories are a great shining heap of moments that glisten and gleam and chatter excitedly to themselves. I hear those whispers in the night if I listen closely enough, if I push away the keeing pain of that cloak of thorns, pulling them from my eyes and ears and fingertips, loosing the strangling hold of the thick heavy strands of hurt and misery.

I still bleed freely from the pricks of the thorns, but the brightness of those moments dries the blood on my body and soul, peeling it away like the cracked and worn skin of a snake. The blindness that infects me is swept away by love and laughter and the knowledge that this pain is endurable, merelyl the light of a fitful candle compared to the blazing glory of the sun.

The fetters that hold my Boy to me bind me as firmly to him as iron and stone and links of forged steel. They are a weight that I would not trade, heavy and solid and anchoring, and yet soft and light enough to allow me to fly, to leap into my dreams and my hopes from the safe place that he is. He draws from me the love and the strenth that I never knew I possessed, and his gives me that which I never knew I needed. He is my reflection, a human image of God, and I am in submission to his gift as much as he is in submission to me. I could not change our relationship upon pain or seperation, nor would I ever want to.

I will get through this. I will put this behind me when it is time to bring my Boy back to my arms, sheltering each other in joy.

It's been far too long since I made a real update,

Sun, 13 Nov 2005 10:54:01 GMT

But I find that I have little to say. My darling Boy describes our relationship more eloquently than I can, and I find myself stumbling through the darkness trying to describe the light that I'm follwing. It's very difficult, and I find myself frustrated and angry over things that I cannot explain.

There's a sense of rage that flickers in the corner of my heart, one that spreads like an oil slick, polluting and tainting the soul, turning me away from God and towards despair and desolation. In pain, I push away those who would help me stand, turning my back on both the human and Divine.

My Boy worries over me, trying to make me see what he does, and there are days when I pull back even from him, wanting to become numbed and silent, wrapping my misery around me like a cloak of thorns pricking at my skin and my eyes until I can no longer see a looming twilight.

My year in hell is slowly drawing to a close, at a creeping pace that stupefies me and yet, as I look back, it has flown by on a ceaseless desert wind, the seasons turning and turning until once again I am faced with the winter rains. The rains are both a welcome sight and a terrifying one, for as I leave the cold mud, my Boy arrives here.

We have, by my count, spent four weeks together out of the last 64. By the time his rotation here ends, it will be six weeks out of 116 or so.

There is never a day that I ask if this is worth it, worth the pain and the distance, worth the heartache and the tears. There is never a day that I doubt the strength of our love, and the fact that we will see this through.

My Boy is my knight. He moves towards the line as the sound of battle draws near, and were it not so, I would not love him so much, for he would not have the strength that I need so desperately.

No, his is not the only type of strength out there, but for me, it is the one that draws me in and shows me a safe place. Seeing his strength, I take comfort and he holds me up when my legs are weak and my heart is broken. My nightmares are chased into the light by his love and for that, I can never repay him, his sword shines so brightly that the darkest corners of my being are lit by his passion and love and strength.

He is my greatest blessing, and my other half. I will live as half a person until we are together again, my heart is in his keeping. He carries my heart, my soul and my prayers as a favor, keeping them safe until he can return them to me.

I am looking forward to returning home, but my heart is heavy as well. I have been here for almost a year. I have gone through things I never wanted to see, and I will come out on the other side, stained and bloody, but still walking. I will pull myself up and keep moving because my Boy deserved nothing less and I will make myself whole and straight once again, to care for my knight when he returns to me, battle-weary and heart-sore.

We will heal each other.

Well...this is interesting...

Wed, 19 Oct 2005 10:38:16 GMT

My dreams have taken a decidedly more kinked turn the past few nights.

It might have something to do with writing erotica for my Boy. :-D

Story Time!

Fri, 14 Oct 2005 06:13:19 GMT

As subboy_2004 mentioned, I've been writing little bits of erotica for him, as we're not able to talk on the phone, and I've had some free time, with access to a keyboard. Evidently, it's rather frustrating for him, but he's begging for more, so I'll make the assumption that he likes it.

For your amusement, and perhaps a bit of critique, I'll put some of it behind a cut, and you can look, or not. The following themes are addressed, in case any of the are your squick point: schoolboy, corporal punishment, incest. There are probably a few I've missed, but that's a small warning at least.

subboy_2004, I've written this explicitly for you, so if you're uncomfortable having it up, please let me know, and we'll discuss it.

so they're a bit better behaved. She's going to mention she's very open-minded, and that their parents are out of the house quite often, up to several weeks at a time.

So, the teacher will give him a note to take home, one that requires a signature and a response.

When he gets home, his sister asks him to lay out his homework and to give him the note the teacher sent home with him. He starts to stammer something about not having any notes, but she just holds out her hand and waits. He finally fishes it out of the very bottom of his book bag.

She sets a snack out for him, and takes the note upstairs to read.

When he finishes the snack, he knows it's time to do homework, so he starts to head upstairs to his room.

When he gets in there, his sister is sitting on the bed, obviously waiting for him. He stops and tells her to get out. She stands up, walks over to him and slaps him smartly across the face.

"You need to learn some manners, brat. I'm thinking it's about time we got started on that."

She tells him to take off his clothes, and leave them on the bed. From now on, he's no longer allowed to wear clothes in the house.

She takes a set of keys out of her pocket and tells him that the bathrooms are all locked, and he needs to ask her permission, politely to use them. If she catches him peeing outside or in the sink, she'll take more drastic measures.

He's no longer allowed to touch himself, to jerk off, without permission. He must ask, politely. If she catches him, and she will, she will spank him soundly for breaking the new rules.

He just stares at her for a minute and starts to protest with "But Mom and Dad...”

"Are gone for the next six weeks, on a business trip to Bali. I'm in charge now, and we're playing the game with some new rules. Take off the clothes, or I'll take them off for you, and you'll be punished for arguing with me."

He starts to try to shove his sister out of the room, and slam the door, but she slaps her hand out and the door bounces back into the wall.

"Okay, that's it." She disappears into her room for a minute, and the boy thinks he's won. She returns with a large, flat plastic hairbrush. She grabs his arm, and pulls him towards the bed. She shoves him on to it, roughly, grabs his shorts and tears them down his legs. He shrieks as the waistband catches on his cock and balls, but she just continues to yank the clothes off ruthlessly.

With one hand on his back, and kneeling across his legs, she starts to spank him with the brush, firm quick strokes.

He starts to struggle when the first stroke lands, and she lets go of his back long enough to grab his hair and pull his head back slightly.

"If you fight, it's only going to be harder on you; at least that's what the teacher said. I have to give her a report tomorrow, on what I did with you tonight"

Pushing his face into the pillow, she continues spanking his butt and the backs of his thighs. He starts to howl, and then the howls wind down into crying and whimpering. His butt goes from pink, to dark pink, to glowing red, the skin prickling up with "goose bumps", warm to the touch. Around 100, she stops counting, and just keeps striking his ass.

When he finally stops making any noise at all, just exhausted sobs into the pillow, his arms wrapped around it for dear life, she stops and he feels her leave the bed. He just lies there, too tired and stunned at the abrupt turn of events to even move. He hears water running in the sink, and she returns to put a cool cloth on the fire on his backside. He can feel her hand stroking his head gently, petting him.

"That's over. That's all over, now. Shhhh, I don't want to have to do that anymore," she says. "We'll start with these new rules, and go from there. I'm going to post a list by the fridge, of your chores, and a system of merits and demerits.

"Your teachers are going to fill out progress reports on you, and I'll look at them every day. For every class you get a good report in, you get three merits. For every class you get a bad report in, you get five demerits.

"As soon as you come home, you'll take off your clothes and fold them neatly, putting them in the hamper to be washed. If you're not naked within ten minutes with your clothes neatly in the hamper, you get three demerits. If you are naked with your clothes in the hamper within five minutes of getting home, you get two merits.

"If you complete your chores in less than an hour, you get five merits. For every ten minutes over the hour, you get three demerits. For every half hour over the hour, total, you get an additional three demerits. If there are chores you don't know how to do, I expect you to ask me.

"If you're rude to me, or any other woman that comes to the house, or we come in contact with, it's an automatic spanking, right there, and an additional ten demerits. If a woman comments on your manners, or politeness, you get seven merits.

"For now, you'll be sleeping with me. I know you touch yourself at night, I've listened to you, and that's not allowed any more. When I decide you're allowed to jerk off, you'll do it in front of me. If you jerk off without permission, it'll be 30 demerits, with no reduction for merits.

"If I catch you peeing in the sink, or outside, it's 15 demerits. You must ask politely to use the bathroom, and I'll supervise you to make sure that you are neat and tidy.

"Baths will also be supervised, and I will inspect you after them to make sure that you're clean. If you don't clean yourself thoroughly, I'll do it for you, and you'll get an additional five demerits.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll send you to school with your report for the teacher, and she'll sign it and you'll bring it back to me. If you don't give it to her before school, it's ten demerits, and she'll spank you for them. If you don't give me the progress report on top of your homework within fifteen minutes of getting home, it's ten demerits.

"If I catch you breaking any of the new rules, or any that come after them, you get ten demerits, and the rules will get stricter. If you break any of the rules, and don't tell me before I find out, you'll get 50 demerits, and no merits will reduce that amount.

"Each demerit is five strokes with a paddle. Each merit takes away two strokes, unless it's jerking off or breaking rules. Those don't ever get reduced.

"At the end of the evening, before you go to sleep, you have to bring the paddle to me, and ask for your strokes. If I have to find you, or you don't ask politely, it's an additional three demerits.

"There's no arguing with the number of demerits or strokes. If you argue, you get another ten demerits.

"Do you understand?"

The boy doesn't answer right away. He lies there, quiet and a little bit scared, face still buried in the pillow, tired little hiccups still coming from him.

She gently turns him over, and strokes his tear-stained face.

"I'll show you tomorrow how the demerit system works. For tonight, pick up your clothes, put them in the hamper, do your homework, and then take your bath. We'll go from the bath portion tonight, since I've already spanked you pretty well. The paddle will be in the top middle drawer of my dresser. You are not allowed to touch anything else in the drawer, or in my room. When you have free time, you're allowed to read, to play your computer games or watch TV, but you have to make sure that everything is done first. Don't blow the chores or homework off to read."

Getting up, she leaves him on the bed, half naked and aching. One of the things she does notice, as she's leaving is that his little cock is hard, touching his belly with every sniffled breath.

He gets up, picks up the shorts and briefs from the end of the bed, and stares at them, numbly. He staggers over to the hamper, tired and sore, and a little afraid. Actually, a lot afraid.

His mind reels with the numbers of merits and demerits and spankings and strokes and paddles and he's got to *what* in front of his sister?

Folding the clothes mostly neatly, he drops them into the hamper, and then strips off his shirt and tie. He tries to fold the shirt up, but gets frustrated and finally throws it into the hamper in a wad. The tie goes on a hook in the closet.

Touching his sore, hot butt lightly, he moves over to his desk and sits down very gingerly. Pulling out his books, he starts to work on homework, his little brain still busily trying to understand what just happened to his entire world.

After finishing his homework, he takes it to her, and she looks at it. Making a few corrections, she sends him back upstairs and makes a mark on a whiteboard in the kitchen. He can see it through the door from the living room, and it's got two columns on it. One has three marks on it, the other has none. A printed list is tacked to the wall next to it, with a set of columns and tables that he can't quite read from that distance.

As he's doing his homework, he realizes his bladder is getting uncomfortably full. He's not sure he can actually ask his sister for the key, so he waits. It starts to hurt a little bit, then a little bit more, until he's aching.

Swallowing hard, he creeps to the upstairs bathroom and tries the door handle quietly. It's locked, with a new doorknob, one that actually takes a cut key to open, instead of a bobby pin. His bladder is really starting to hurt now, and he makes up his mind to go talk to his sister.

Walking down the stairs slowly, he sees his sister typing on her laptop, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee. He rubs his bottom, unconsciously, and goes to stand in front of her. She continues typing. He says her name, to try and get her attention, and she ignores him. He says it louder, and then pushes her screen. She looks up at him, and says "Three for rudeness. What do you need, sweetie?"

He blushes and mumbles, "Gotta...um... you know...use the john."

She looks at him. "Is that the polite way to ask?"

He just stares at her. She raises one eyebrow, and he shakes his head slowly.

"Well?” she prompts.

"I...uh...need to...um...use...uh...the bathroom. Please?" He stammers through it, but she smiles, and stands up.

"That will have to do for tonight, although I'm going to expect you to be a bit more polite next time," she says, pulling the keys out of her pocket. Walking to the downstairs bathroom, she unlocks the door and opens it for him. He goes in, and stops, torn between pain and abject embarrassment, as his sister settles in to watch.

"I'm not going away, so you might as well go ahead."

He puts his hands over his cock, protectively, and she sighs. "If you won't do it, I'll have to help," she says, reaching for his pecker.

"No! I'll do it!" He closes his eyes, and shakes visibly, but he manages to start to piss. He's pretty clean about it, but she makes him wipe the rim of the bowl with a piece of toilet paper, and then locks the door behind them.

Well, that's part of what I've written. Depending on how this is received and how much more I get written, I may post some more, or I may tell subboy_2004 to post it.

What to say, what to say?

Wed, 14 Sep 2005 10:54:57 GMT

I keep meaning to update this blog, but there are so many times when I just don't know what to say? My dear subboy_2004 seems to be able to sum up what we do in a much more concise and clear manner.

The leave was...blissful. I had my Boy all to myself for almost three weeks. Granted, a lot of the kink stuff was postponed until after the wedding and hospitalization, but oh my, how wonderful the kink was.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoy touching his body, feeling his sweat and listening to him whimper. Mmmmm. Tasty.

BTW, the frenum piercing. Oh my GOD. If you have a male boy, get him one. Make sure the balls are a large enough gauge to feel, and then, ride 'em cowboy! He'll end up with more penile piercings, but that one was definately a good thing.

Okay, I should get back to work. On the plus side, I have 120 days or so left in this hellhole.

ARGH!

Sun, 15 May 2005 03:52:20 GMT

A man whom I find attractive, competent, and interesting should not, I repeat NOT, tell me he is not a top, but a switch.

That's just cruel.

I am aching...

Fri, 29 Apr 2005 15:05:44 GMT

To hurt someone.

Right now, my professional life is very frustrating, and I want to take that frustration out on my Boy in a very tangible way.

I can't and that simply adds to the frustration.

I feel like a top that's spinning up and is going to just fly off the handle soon.

There are times...

Fri, 08 Apr 2005 13:57:11 GMT

When I can ignore the pain.

I can ignore it long enough to get through the days, and smile until my face cracks and bleeds, spilling into my mouth, leaving me nauseated and metallic.

There are days when I can pretend this is all a dream, that the sands in the hourglass that I watch so carefully are moving faster than they are.

Then there are days when I'm an empty shell, hollow and aching, echoing with screams and wails, beating myself with a stinging whip of self-denial.

Those are the days when I literally want to hurt physically, to rend my garments and to screech at the unfairness of my life, to feel hot blood runneling through grooved flesh, rent and slivered. Those are the days when I want my body to reflect the agony my heart feels with every beat, the sharp shards of glass that skewer me with anger and hate, and irrational guilt.

Today is better, but yesterday was a day of anger and hate, and I'm still working through it.

Woo hoo!

Wed, 06 Apr 2005 10:00:03 GMT

I've been looking for jewelry to give my Boy as an anniversary present, of the collaring, and I'd been kind of bumping up against a wall. Then, I found this store:

http://store.yahoo.com/ringbox/weddingrings.html

and this:

http://store.yahoo.com/ringbox/excusletcuf.html

I may have stumbled upon something here. :-D

Reliable connection

Sun, 03 Apr 2005 09:27:12 GMT

I have a reliable connection at work now, so I will be doing my best to update this journal a bit more frequently than I have.

I did sign up for a Yahoo! messenger ID, DommeInPink, oddly enough, so if you see me online, feel free to chat with me. If I'm busy, I'll be sure to let you know. :-D

I've been writing subboy_2004 long, rambling letters. I've been sending him my other blog entries, printed out for his enjoyment. Having him gone for a month is incredibly hard. Much harder than I thought it would be, actually.

*Sigh*

Ah well, that will come to an end soon.