Sunday, August 28, 2011

Untouchable - by the writer

My long distance sub, the writer, has been sending me reports each morning for the three weeks he's been chaste for me. They are too hot not to share so I asked him to create a blog post from a couple of them over the past week since I added an interesting twist into his period of chastity.

Last night, before going to bed, I saw a pair of panties  -- my panties -- on the drying rack and a butt plug on the tub where I'd placed them to dry. I smiled before putting both away. They are now very potent symbols, each of them, far beyond the particular acts for which they were used.

It's amazing to me that it was only last weekend when I was wearing the panties and did not text Lilyana after the woman with whom I had a date showed up looking so deliberately sexy. At the time, I thought that the reason I didn’t call and ask her permission to at least make out with my date was because I couldn’t envision how I could get the panties off without her knowing. But then, I realized that this wasn’t true. I hadn’t texted because I had come to the point where I would rather play with Lilyana than have sex with a very attractive woman.

That was a turning point, a scary one.

I haven't regretted it for a moment.

Today is my three-week chastity anniversary, and I am, of course, aching. Woke up with a raging hard-on, as to be expected. Tomorrow will be my week anniversary of total cock denial, something I never anticipated.

Until this Monday, I was occasionally allowed to ask her if I could edge. Sometimes my request was granted. Sometimes it was not. The simple act of having to ask was thrilling. I felt completely and utterly controlled.

I had begun to drip uncontrollably. The last time she placed me in chastity, it lasted five weeks. I have no idea whether this will be as long, longer, or shorter. My desire to cum simply grows and binds me closer to her.

Last Sunday (was it really only I week ago?), I asked if I could touch my cock. Her first answer was “no,” and I took a deep breath. Then she changed her mind.

Having no idea what was in store, I gave myself a few reassuring squeezes. A stroke or two. I didn’t bother to edge. I felt warm and comfortable and cared for.

The next morning I was told that I was no longer to have any contact with my cock at all. That I was to sit to pee, that I had to blot my cock head with toilet paper rather than shake off the last drop. To both our surprise, this turned out to be the most humiliating part of the exercise. Something about carefully holding the paper so that only it touched me, about not being allowed my life-long male shake, shamed me.

The only time I was allowed to have any contact with my cock was in the shower. Two seconds to moisten, three to soap up, and four to rinse off. Then I was to allow it to air dry. No stroke of the towel. I had to change my position in the shower so that the water did not hit my cock at any other time. Instead of washing front and back, I now washed side to side. I shampooed with my back to the shower head at all times.

And starting last Monday, that was all that I was allowed.

That was it. No nipple torture. No ass play. No edging, of course.

I began to experience a form of control that lies far outside any fantasy I have ever had. It’s not the same as having my cock locked. The cage bondage, a form of alternative pleasure; this denial is pure submission and very humiliating at that.

I never imagined, when I began this, how much I would have to confront:

Confessing that I would rather be denied than fuck took all my courage.  But there it is. I can never return to the point before I admitted this to her and to myself.

I've also had to confront my secondary status.

It's one thing to be cucked. It's one thing to understand that there are things that simply cannot be done long distance. It's another to have to know that Lilyana’s other subs get to experience things that she could have me do and that she chooses not to. This is excruciating. As a secondary I must accept that others will not only receive more pleasure but also more pain than I.

Not as hard is the lesson I've been given in the difference between envy and jealousy. I am deeply envious of her subs’ physical play. I am not jealous in the least. I want her to have all the pleasure in the world, and I want her to have a great emotional connection with those with whom she plays. Nothing she does with them diminishes anything she does with me. Yes, the details add to my torment, but then, that torment is at the core of our play.

Along with this, I've had to come to learn about acceptance as a really essential part of submission. I accept the torment that comes with denial because it pleases her. I even report the torment in detail knowing that it only encourages her to keep me this way. Acceptance is no longer theoretical. It is something I live with constantly.

And then there was what happened a few days ago, when I was going crazy with denial. I was going to beg her for sensation. For pain on my nipples. For a chance to fuck my ass. For the feeling of the new panties I had bought for her against my skin.

But since she had not given me permission to beg, I kept these desires to myself.

And then, an hour later, she told me to plug myself.

She had known what I needed without my having to say a word.

I spent three hours with a plug in my ass, texting with her the entire time, precum dripping from my cock. I heard stories of things she had done with others.

And when it ended, I admitted to her that it was as good as any vanilla fuck I had ever had. I felt wholly and completely satisfied. The afterglow lasted well into the next morning.

The implications of this are huge. Lilyana knows from my stories that I've fantasized about being permanently denied penetration.

I love to fuck. Love the warmth and wetness of a woman when I am inside her. Love the smell of her on my cock the next morning.

She knows this, of course. But after this weekend, she also knows that it would be possible for me to give this up and not just for a few weeks. I know it as well. And it makes me so very afraid.

When I put the butt plug and the panties away last night, the reality washed over me.

In three weeks, I have become fuckless and secondary, my cock reduced to plumbing.

I am so submissively grateful.

Saturday, August 20, 2011


Ever laugh so hard you snort? Well, a snortgasm is like that ... But for an orgasm.

A snort is definitely not as sexy as the sounds women typically make when they orgasm. But then again, I'm not your typical woman.

In fact, I don't typically make much noise at all when I cum. That's because I hold my breath.

Self inflicted breath control? Mini auto asphyxiation? I honestly can't be sure. It's just something I started doing three years ago. And it was at that point I also became super orgasmic.

Coincidence? Maybe. But my orgasmicness is best left for discussion in another blog.

THIS blog is about the snortgasm.

I was fucking him, or rather he was fucking me, when I came on his cock HARD. It was one of those beautifully hot yet intimate moments where we were holding each other tight, our chins nestled in each other's necks.

When an orgasm is particularly long, I tend to hold my breath for a while and then take a quick breath before holding it again. I may do this three of four times for a particularly lengthy orgasm.

During this particular orgasm, during the second or third gulp of air, I snorted.

I snorted as I came at about the same time he came.

"Did I just snort??"

"Yes you did."

I laughed, "I can't believe I snorted while I was cumming. It was a snortgasm."

And the snortgasm was born.

A snortgasm is much like the snort that occasionally occurs when you laugh very hard in a carefree way. Ok, like when *I* laugh in a carefree way anyway.

When someone says something funny enough to make me snort when I laugh, I call it "snortworthy."

However, even now that I've experienced the snortgasm, I don't think I'll be calling orgasms "snortworthy." There's something not quite right about that.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Maybe I'm just greedy

I'm polyamorous. I'm a Domme. But I don't want MY sub submitting to another Domme while he's submitting to me.

Maybe that means I'm not poly. Maybe I'm just greedy.

I've previously considered and given permission to a sub to date others while we were together. It was permission with conditions, sure. I'm the Dominant and I have that right.

I believe that being poly means you're ok with your partners being involved with others. And I am. I've been involved with other people who are poly and I've also been involved with non-polys who were seeing others while we were together. And I was REALLY ok with it.

I just don't want someone who is submitting to me on a regular basis submitting to anyone else.

Is it a double standard? Yes. Because even though I've never had multiple serious subs at once, I often have more than one sub that I'm considering and/or playing with.

No, what's good for the Goose isn't good for the gander.

D/s is the difference. It's not just sex. It's not even sex and dating. It's a much more special connection.

There's an ownership element to D/s that throws my being poly all off kilter. There's a feeling of MINE I have with subs, even former subs, that I never had when I was monogamous, even when I was married.

And when I think of a sub of mine kneeling for another Domme, I feel a little sick. I believe that's something special he should only share with me. Date someone else, fuck someone else, but no, I'm not ok with you submitting to someone else.

I don't think that's wrong either. But then again, maybe I'm just greedy.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


Nodder's panties.
"I brought you something," I announced as I pulled things from my overnight bag.

"Oh yeah?" nodder asked.

I tossed "his" panties on the bed.

"I don't need those," nodder said.

"Yes you do. Put them on." Nodder isn't into cross dressing but he is a whore for humiliation and has a love/hate relationship with his polka dot beribboned panties.

He picked them up and tossed them across the bed. "No thanks."

"No?" I was incredulous. Nodder doesn't tell me no. Not when it comes to play. "What do you mean, NO?"

"I mean, I'm not going to put on panties."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not. You don't really want me to anyway."

I laughed. "YES, I really do."

"No, you really don't. You just think that that's what I want you to make me do right now but that's not what you really want," he explained. And then he leaned over and kissed me and all thoughts left my head except one: he might be right.

I tried to insist he put on the panties anyway, to reestablish control of the situation. He called me out on it. "That's not really what you want right now. I can tell. Come on now, I've known you for 11 months and I know what you want."

And then I did something I almost never do. I blushed.

The rest of the evening unfolded in a way that proved him right. As much as I enjoy control and his reactions when I dominate him, it wasn't a scene I wanted. I wanted to connect without D/s.

We ended up outside on his patio, naked, with me laying on the table looking up at the stars while he ate my pussy. The view of the Las Vegas strip was beautiful, the air was warm and comforting and his skilled tongue made me forget his defiance, made me forget everything. I lost myself in the sensations and we weren't Mistress and sub. We weren't ex boyfriend and ex girlfriend. We just were.

Actually, I supposed that isn't true. As I write this I am realizing that nodder's defiance could be viewed as service to me. After all, he was serving my true desires. Even when I didn't know them yet.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Hoping to make "The List" again

I started this blog as an outlet for my perviness and I'm flattered that so many have enjoyed my musings. Based on your feedback, I've learned that I've aroused, intrigued, amused and even occasionally educated. Reader feedback continues to make me smile.

And being recognized by my peers on the list for the Top Sex Bloggers of 2010, was definitely one of the highlights of 2010 for me. Of course I'd love to make the list for 2011.

I'm not going to go all bitchy Domme on you and demand you nominate me. Or beg for your nomination.

But if you enjoy my blog, I'd love it if you'd take a moment and nominate me for the 2011 list here.


I should have known that things were different when nodder put his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck while I was making dinner. I wasn't just instantly wet, my whole body was engulfed in what I can only describe as a warm shiver.

I figured maybe it was just a familiarity thing. Sure, we hadn't seen each other in the five weeks since our breakup but you can't know someone intimately for 11 months, can't have played with them dozens of times, and not know the right buttons to push in just the right way to turn them on.

But then as we sat watching a movie snuggled on the sofa, my breath caressed nodder's wrist almost accidentally and made him moan in an unexpected way. I smiled with delight like a child who had just learned a great secret.

I KNEW things were different.

After a few weeks of no contact after our break up, nodder and I began to IM a little. Pretty quickly we'd resumed something that might just end up some type of dysfunctional friendship.

Neither of us took the decision to see each other in person again lightly. We discussed it thoroughly and ensured we were both clear about our expectations for our relationship. We agreed our romantic relationship had run its course and that we cannot have a future together but that we still cared about each other in ways we hope to weave into a friendship.

The expectations for our first evening together again were not as clear. There was no agenda, no plan. He came over with wine and I threw together some dinner that we ate while we watched a movie.

I figured it would be a low key evening that would set a precedence for our budding friendship. Some snuggling maybe.

I didn't dare think we'd be able to keep our hands off each other though. Even when things were rough between nodder and me, our chemistry was always considerable, particularly for play. I'd have been naïve to expect it to have disappeared just because we'd broken up.

Knowing we have no future together should have at least diminished it though right?


There was an unmistakable new intensity between us. Every kiss, every touch ... everything was electric in a way I'd never known with nodder.

I struggle even now to express how things were with nodder that night. It was raw and beautiful and something else I can't quite describe.

The only word I can come up with is intense. The foreplay, the play, the sex ... it was all so fucking intense.

I'm also struggling to understand why it was so intense. It wasn't make up sex because we're not getting back together. And it didn't have the celebratory flavor. Lack of "relationship" pressure? Eh, maybe. Sexual frustration and pent up passion? Nah.

His every reaction to every little thing I said or did told me he'd missed me. Maybe it was that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" bullshit.

I don't know and I don't really care. I loved playing with nodder before. And now with this new intensity it's like we've taken things to another level.