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Marching Orders

16 Sep

My wife Bayani likes me to order her around, and the more explicit and detailed my instructions, the better. Sometimes I just tell her things like ‘Suck it’ or ‘Bend over’, sometimes I give her more detailed instructions like ‘Go take your panties off then come in here and kneel down and beg me to let you suck it.’ She likes giving me oral, and really likes begging me to let her use her mouth to please me.

Learning to let myself do this was not easy. I had been taught to treat a woman with respect, and to order her to kneel down and suck your cock, well, that hardly seems respectful, does it? But she wants me to do that, she likes it, she gets off on it. So I respect her by giving her what she wants, by trusting that she will let me know when I go to far. Oddly enough, I do this from a place of love, I do this to increase the intimacy in our relationship, it is something I don’t share with many people.

Recently she has started asking permission to come. I think she got the idea from this BDSM erotica she read, where the Dom forbade his sub from orgasming for 24 hours as a sort of punishment. She likes the idea of my being that much in control. So I’ve started telling her to come sometimes, and at other times I tell her she can’t come till after I do. It has now gotten to the point where I can tell her to come, and as long as there is some sort of stimulation on her clit or in her pussy, she will. I have not yet tried to tell her to come when she is standing at the mirror putting on makeup, but some day I will. That will be pretty damn hot, if I can ever make her come just by using my voice.

She likes me to call her dirty names, ‘Slut’ and ‘Cocksucker’. ‘Whore’ is off limits, she does not like that one. She is fine being a slut, but not a whore. Ah, good, a limit. I can show her respect by not crossing that line, by respecting her limits.

Occasionally I will leave her some very detailed instructions, usually when I will be gone for the evening, instructions on how I want her dressed when I come home, how I want to be greeted at the door. I let her stew for a few hours thinking about it, getting all worked up. I tease her with the anticipation.

Last night I left her with such a set of instructions. The email I sent her can be found at the end of this post. I gave her some very detailed instructions on what she could wear, and those I will keep to myself. I told her what time to expect me, and I am a very punctual person, so she knew I would walk in the door at exactly the time I told her I would.

She had friends over while I was gone, to smoke hookah and read tarot. She had to kick them out to get ready for me. The kids were not co-operating, refusing to quiet down and go to sleep, so she sent a text requesting a 15 minute delay. I acknowledged the changed time table. I sent another text as I was leaving, letting her know she had exactly five minutes. I walked in the door to find her in full compliance and frustrated as all hell. My text arrived as I was getting naked. She didn’t know I had given her the extra 15 minutes, and had been in position trying to fight of orgasms for almost 20 minutes the poor thing.

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Mother Flogger

12 Sep

It’s not so much a Cat-O-Nine-Tails as four pieces of rope tied together, but it does the trick.

Pieces of soft nylon left over after I trimmed down the rope to fit her perfectly in a nice, tightly knotted harness. I left the ends frayed just a little bit so they sting more. I’ve gotten pretty good control with it too, I can lay the entire length across my wife’s skin in a way that -almost- leaves a bruise, I can snap the ends like a whip so they just barely hit and sting like hell, or I can brush the ends along her skin and leave a stinging red mark.

And she loves it.

Sometimes I feel like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. I put on the nice gentlemanly face for the outside world, but inside is a dark, barely repressed monster that delights in pain. Well, pleasurable pain. The kind of pain that brings my partners just shy of orgasm. Fingernails, teeth, pinching and biting, spanking and now flogging, all these have teased at the back of my mind, tantalizing fantasies I never dared express.

I held back on flogging for a very long time. Spanking was ok, ’cause that can be just playful(hell, we have spanking competitions at our parties, and I should point out I have won every single one), but flogging borders on sadism. Nice guys don’t do that. I might look kinda scary, with long hair and beard, tattoos and torn jeans, but deep down I am a Nice Guy.

My father, whom I admire greatly, taught me to always respect women. The problem was he is Old School, and respecting women is all about Actions. You hold the door for them, you pull out their chair, you always pay for dinner. And you never, ever, hit a woman. He never spoke of the Idea of respecting women, that was something I had to learn on my own. By interacting with them and learning they are people too, not just some goddess to be idealized on a pedestal(and who incidentally also cooks you dinner-like I said, Old School). And Mothers are to be respected more than just regular ‘ol women.

My wife is a Mother, and therefore, according to my father, is due actions of respect.

But what about respecting the individual? What if what she needs is a good, painful, flogging? What if what she wants is for me to inflict pain? My desire to please her is in direct conflict with what I was taught regarding respect. Never mind what dark desires I hold.

Kasini likes to be pulled about by her hair. I did so the other night, but I was far too gentle about it. It was not nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be. I want to drag her by her hair, off balance and scrabbling to keep up. Like a caveman. Images of her banging her elbow on a cabinet or bruising her knee on a door frame held me back. Real pain like that, I simply cannot bring myself to inflict. I’m not that dark inside. The pain I like to give is just another side of pleasure, if it didn’t feel good I would have no interest in it.

I keep testing the waters with my lovers. I ease into new behavior, a little spank here, a little tug there. And as they respond positively, and when they don’t complain that I have gone too far, or have hurt them, I can push a little bit further the next time. A hard smack across the ass that leaves a mark, a grab and pull that leaves her off balance and just a little bit scared.

Last night I had Bayani strung up from my pergola, naked and gagged, stretched almost uncomfortably too far, as I was laying into her back with the flog. I was walking around her, enjoying the sight of her naked, welt-covered skin, and I had the urge to whip the flail across her titties. I did so gently, then again with increased force. Because I was only testing the tittie flogging waters, I then moved on to the established flogging territory of her back and ass and thighs. Once I removed the gag I learned she did not like the tittie flogging at all. So now I know not to do that. If had I just let go and whipped the flail across her tight little nipple I would have gone too far.

As my wife and I have been pushing limits, moving into new and terrifying territory, I have had to learn to trust that she will tell me when I have gone to far. Trust, that is the key to respecting my partners. I have to trust that Kasini will safeword out if I go too far, pull too violently, push too hard at her limits. I have to trust that she will both be able to keep up as I drag her though the house by her hair AND that she will tell me if she is in danger of hurting herself beyond the delicious pain of rough sex. I have to respect that she will know how to handle Mr Hyde.

This is a better respect than blind deference and courtesy. I am interacting with the person, not the label. Bayani and Fanny and Kasini are more than Women or Mothers or any of the thousand other labels you could apply. They have each earned my respect for who they are and what they do. I show my respect for them MY way, not my father’s stuck-in-the-50’s way.

It hasn’t been the 50’s for a very long time, and if the mother of my children wants to be whipped and flogged and hurt, then there is nothing wrong with my doing that. I don’t think the 50’s ever really existed, not like they did on TV. That was just an ideal, a prayer for normalcy, and perhaps for white hetero christian supremacy. A shared delusion of conformity. Yet those ideas persist, infecting us, making us feel guilty for enjoying our sexuality in healthy ways. Morality is not nearly so black and white as people liked to pretend in those days. And pleasure and pain are not nearly so different, not nearly so far apart as you would expect.

I can give in to the urge to inflict pain and still respect my partners. I can show respect to them by letting myself relax my control, by trusting that they will stop me if I go too far, and by trusting them with my deeply hidden desires. Well, they are not really that dark. I have no urge to hit the face or leave any sort of lasting mark, and I am far more interested in giving pleasure than I am in dealing out pain. I just like to blur the boundaries between the two. I like to feel primal, animalistic, unrestrained.

When the tips of my flail dance across her skin, her nerves wake up, become hyper sensitive, ready to receive more input. The sensations that course through her body making her arch her back are not entirely painful, though they are intense. The entire act is sensual and intimate, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain. Just like how we blur the lines of morality. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are, after all, the same person.

She Brings Out The Worst In Me

9 Aug

Or the best, depending on your point of view.

She pushes back, She fights me, challenges my dominance.

She is not a willow, bending, yielding, accepting the shape I give her. No, She is a wild pony, fierce and willful. And She needs to be broken. She wants me to be in control, to lead Her, but She cannot submit on her own.

She is a brat.

I don’t mean to be aggressive, She brings out the worst in me. I start out wanting to kiss Her slowly, caressing her soft skin, eliciting moans and gasps of pleasure. But there is something about the look in Her eyes that makes me growl. The way She grabs at me, pushes at me, I just can’t help it, I just want to grab Her by the wrists and pin Her down. Let Her know that I am in control.

She submits differently than my wife does

Bayani is yielding, eager to please. And that brings out a different type of dominance in me. Bayani takes whatever I give her, and the more she yields the more I push. She begs to please me, “Please let me suck it”. I am in control every moment and I love it. She is my Good Girl. Bayani wants me to be in control, to take over for her, to do the things she cannot tell me she wants. Bayani has a different look in her eyes, her eyes speak of absolute trust, and they beg me to do more.

I spank Bayani because she will take it, because she wants it. And the more I spank her, the more she wants it, the harder slap.

I spank Her to punish Her, to remind Her that I am in charge. Well, I will. We’ve barely just begun and She has not yet had a chance to be really naughty and earn a punishment. We’ve only slept together once, and first times are always awkward and eager–don’t get me wrong, it was really good, I was just too full of pent up frustration to really take my time and do it the way I want to. I am really looking forward to punishing Her; to turning Her ass red with my bare hand; to tying Her down, limbs pulled taught, leaving Her helpless while I caress Her, tease Her, draw out the pleasure till She is panting, begging me to finish Her, to end the torment. But I won’t, not yet, not till She knows, understands, that I am in control.

Yes, She brings out the worst in me, and She knows exactly what She is doing.

Oh, Her name is Germentrude.