Happy Halloween

Good morning one and all and a Happy Halloween.

There are two things I want to mention in this brief post; it’s early and I need to hit the road so I will have to keep this short. This morning I awoke with my cock straining behind the clear plastic of the chastity device. I opened my eyes, the sound of the air conditioning outside my bedroom window churning noisily and immediately noticed that my right hand was grabbing at my trapped cock and captured balls. My thumb was running against the hard cage. I felt a tingle and a need; I awoke horny. There was nothing I could do about it, of course, my pleasure is Mistress Cecilia’s to control.

My point is this. I last came on Friday, five short days ago and already I can feel the burning need rising and boiling and bubbling. Saturday I was calm and I felt normal with no tickling need, now, a few short days later I can feel the pressure building, the need rising and the ants returning. I have no idea when I will be allowed that pleasure of release and I can say that I love not knowing when I will be allowed that joyous pleasure. I have relinquished the control of my orgasms to Mistress Cecilia and I savor the tickle that is building within my cock as I savor the control that I have given up.

Then, yesterday as I was driving home I was finally, albeit entirely too late, able to decide upon a Halloween costume. I drove past a Hooters restaurant and they were selling a Hooters Girl costume. Had I decided to dress up for Halloween that would have been the costume that I had chosen: the International Orange shorts, tan pantyhose and a white T-Shirt with the large-eyed owl staring out at the world. It would have been simple, fun and easily recognizable. I will have to keep it in mind for next year. This year however, work has stepped in and rendered the decision moot; it’s too late to pick up the costume and right now I have no plans for the holiday save for passing out dark chocolate to the happy children that will come knocking on my door.

So, as I head out the door to once again begin my day, I want to wish everyone a happy, safe and fun Halloween. May yours be less horny than mine. Although, being horny is not that bad. While the undead beasties roam the night, I feel alive.

I will close this post with a special holiday greeting to my beautiful, sexy and remarkable owner.

Happy Halloween Mistress Cecilia!

Thank You. For everything.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Be Prepared

Good Morning!

Yesterday after work I was fortunate enough to have a phone call with my amazing owner, Mistress Cecilia. Knowing it was coming I gathered up all my toys and filled the sink with water; from that long ago time where I wore pilfered panties ( I like those two words together, pilfered panties ) to the requisite meetings, I still remembered the old Boy Scout motto to “be prepared.”

I dialed the numbers, not feeling nervous at all. Was I more confident? I can’t say for sure; I know that Mistress Cecilia has been helping with that in our hypnosis sessions and besides sleeping better I have not seen a noticeable change in myself from our hypnosis sessions. I have commented here in this blog that I can only really compare myself to myself as I am and so if I am more confident would I really notice or would I think that I was just being myself? That my sleep has improved was drastic and so noticeable that I could easily note the improvement. But, as I am just myself, the confidence I possess is what I have and thus dictates how I act and react. I will be paying attention and will comment on what I notice.

Last night, however, dialing the numbers I was not the least bit nervous. I knew that I could make Mistress Cecilia happy, that I could please her, and when she laughed, that happy sound ringing in my ears, I knew that she was pleased with me. I look forward to any chance I have to serve her. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

With everything gathered together I obeyed Mistress Cecilia and snipped the lock that held her cock in check. I dropped the pieces into that sudsy sink where they landed with a muted splash. Naked and growing erect I made my way into the bedroom and lowered myself onto my bed, onto the hunter green towel I had laid down before as part of my preparations. I grabbed the cock ring and as directed I slipped it around my cock, locking it stiff.

Talking with Mistress Cecilia I next grabbed on old thigh high stocking and tied it around my balls and then again around my cock in a make-shift figure 8. The cock ring came undone and I refastened it around my bound cock. The skin on my turgid cock was hard and tight, the stockings keeping me hard. I grabbed the olive oil and poured the cold oil over my cock, the liquid sliding down my cock and onto the stocking that held Mistress Cecilia’s property in its firm, soft grasp.

Next, as commanded, I slipped the Fleshlight onto my cock. Up and down I stroked my cock, the soft, tantalizing grip of the Fleshlight as it caressed my cock felt amazing. I think I have stated how much I enjoy that toy, the grip is firm and more encompassing than my hand alone. I stroked myself and with Mistress Cecilia listening to my rising moans and pulsing breath, I brought myself to the brink of completion. I said that I was “getting close,” and was commanded to stop.

The feeling waned and once again, as Mistress Cecilia directed, I began the rising climb to desperation. I fucked myself with Fleshlight, this time holding the Fleshlight still while I pumped my hips; pulling my bound cock from the soft tube and slamming it back in. Out and in, I fucked the taut smoothness, my hips rocking on the bed. Out, in, my breathing coming faster and faster until once again I reached that tempting edge. I stopped as my owner directed, holding my body taut as I waited for the edge to recede to only a dull, aching need.

The cock ring slipped off during this second edge, the Velcro tab unlatching with the oil coating it. I fastened it back in place, hearing the crinkling sound as the Velcro hooked together. I set the Fleshlight alive and picked up the vibrating egg. As Mistress Cecilia commanded I lubed the egg and slipped it into my ass. The egg is a small oval, silver in color, about as wide as a quarter and as long as a Vienna Sausage. I set the egg to motion, feeling it run and oscillate inside my ass. It was an interesting, arousing feeling.

With the egg running in my ass, I grabbed my cock and stroked, driving myself to that tense, needy edge. Edge play; when Mistress Cecilia takes me to the edge, and I stop myself, denying myself the pleasure my body is craving I feel submissive; I feel the joy of putting my desires aside for those of my owner. That feeling is all encompassing and radiates outward from deep inside my being in a wash of warmth and completion. That feeling is overwhelming.

Next, I milked my cock. This is where you stroke upwards with both hands, never down. It is like pulling your cock free of a deep, never-ending pussy. Out and out and out and out and as I stroked I drove my need higher and once again reached the boiling precipice of completion. And, as commanded, I pulled my hands away. Once again, the cock ring had slipped free and this time Mistress Cecilia did not have me put it back; the thigh-high stocking was working well enough.

I pulled the egg out and picked up my vibrator. This is about 7 inches long, slim and silver. The base screws on and has a red, twisting switch that sets the vibrator to, well, vibrating. After pouring a dollop of lube over the vibrator, I slipped the slim cylinder into my ass and set it abuzz. It was longer than the butt plug but thinner and slipped in easily. Then, Mistress Cecilia had me fuck myself, but that wasn’t how it felt to me. “You’re fucking me,” I squeaked, my voice sounding breathy to me; I was feeling submissive and I am sure how I felt came out in my tone.

I was lying on my back, my head propped by a pillow, my left leg bent up and pressed against the bed. My left hand held the base of the vibrator and as the tube slipped from my ass, out, my hand pressed it forward, in. Out and in I drove the vibrator, feeling the tube vibrate as it slipped free of my ass and I pushed it back in.

Mistress Cecilia was there, fucking me, I could feel it. This was not in my mind where fantasies reside, this was real. I felt owned, submissive and felt Mistress Cecilia there with me. It was amazing!

I fucked myself; Mistress Cecilia fucked me, as I stroked my cock with my right hand. Out and in, the vibrator buzzed and moved as my hand stroked my rigid hardness. Once again, I reached that tense pinnacle and once again, I pulled my hand away. I pulled the vibrator out and turned it off, first spinning the dial that made it vibrate faster; I had turned it the wrong way. I put the vibrator on the night stand and then, as Mistress Cecilia commanded, I rubbed the head with one hand while stroking with the other. And, in a few, short moments, I once again reached that delicious edge.

Mistress Cecilia commented that I needed to get a suction cup dildo and I said I’d order it as soon as we hung up the phone; next call, I would be prepared.

I twisted my shaft, ringing it out, over and over and over, talking with Mistress Cecilia as I did. These conversations are always fun; I enjoy them immensely. Then, I twisted just the head, like opening a mayonnaise jar; twist, twist, twist, spin, spin, spin. Then, I gripped my cock and pumped my erection until I reached one last, tempting, tingling edge. I reached the peak, begged to come and was once again told no.

I love how it’s not my choice.

Then, taking my hand away and bobbing in need, I was commanded to lock my cock away. I untied the stocking that ringed my cock, encircled my balls and I pulled it free. I made my way to the bathroom, pulling the towel from under my ass with me. I dried the oil from my cock and balls. Standing in the bathroom I pulled the pieces of the CB-6000 from the sink and dried them off. I donned the cage and clicked the lock shut. I made my way into the living room and snapped the picture. Mistress Cecilia knows her toys are safely locked up tight.

We said goodbye, which I had a hard time bringing myself to do. I felt her with me and did not want to sever that connection. But, time moves on. We hung up and I took a shower to clean away the rest of the olive oil. I sent the picture of Mistress Cecilia’s cock and ordered the dildo; it should be here soon. I would be prepared. When I had ordered the vibrator, I had not expected to have it inserted; I had not expected that I would be fucked. It was another amazing surprise that far exceeded my expectations. The dildo, however, does not come with any other designs; I know what it is for.

I was tingling, smiling happily and feeling very much owned. It’s an amazing, wonderful feeling.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Red Tube

Good morning one and all! And, as always, a special good morning to the amazing Mistress Cecilia.

Yesterday afternoon I received an assignment that came as two parts. The first part was to watch some porn without removing the chastity device and the second half was to remove the cage, edge four times, and then lock back up. I had come on Friday, two days past and it was once again time to stoke the fires of my lust and begin driving my desperation to heights unknown; to “rev it back up again,” as Mistress Cecilia playfully wrote.

I typed the URL that Mistress Cecilia sent to me, www.redtube.com. Now, I had never even heard of this site, I do not do much browsing for photos or videos; it is typically the written word that I used to fire my imagination and arouse myself. I have mentioned this before, I am sure. That’s not to say that I don’t like videos or pictures, it’s just not what I normally use.

So, I went to the webpage. My eyes took in the black background and the thumbnails of the videos on the page. Hovering over any of the thumbnails, the picture would cycle through a number of vidcaps so that you can decide if that is what you wanted to see or if you wanted to move on. I was to watch three videos, but which ones? I began reading the titles and hovering over some of the more arousing ones as I perused the thumbnails looking for which video to watch.

I selected my first one… www.redtube.com/6574 and settled in to watch an attractive blonde woman with a playful smile as she danced wearing black panties, a black bra and black gloves. The gloves were sexy and they reminded me of the time I edged over and over wearing black stockings as gloves myself. The woman stripped slowly; it was like my trip to the strip club where the woman slowly took off her clothes, dancing seductively, her hands concealing her body as well as her clothing could. It was sexy and soft and arousing. I liked the contrast between her soft, light skin and the dark black of her lingerie. The female form is so arousing, so sexy; the soft roundness, the smooth skin, I like it all.

The second video I opted to watch was www.redtube.com/7341. This video was a little stronger than the first. It showed an attractive brunette wearing a white two-piece biking with thin, black horizontal strips. She had straight brown hair and a sexy smile and a very pretty neck. I like necks. She slowly caressed her soft body. She removed her bathing suit top and massaged her full, naked breasts.

As she tongued her nipple I felt my cock strain against the unforgiving plastic of the chastity device. I could see my skin pushing out against the air holes; that skin an ugly angry red. The head of my cock pressed outward, straining with pressure. There was not room to grow erect, I could only suffer and feel, well, owned. I could feel the control of Mistress Cecilia over me as I strained to grow fully erect within the hard plastic. A wave of submissiveness washed over me that I felt so amazingly owned that my mouth fell open. It is a sensation that I savor.

Still, the video continued. She stripped off her bikini bottoms and then picked up a pink vibrator. She masturbated, rubbing her naked sex with her hand before sliding the vibrator along her pussy. She played with herself, using the vibrator against her sex. She was moaning in pleasure as I strained against the unyielding plastic of the CB-6000.

With the second video behind me I went looking for the third. My balls were stinging as they tried to pull up in preparation of the release of pleasure they would not be having. It was the same pain that I had experienced while trying to grow erect in the middle of the night. My cock, trying to grow hard was held in check by the cage, my balls trapped by the encircling ring, and with it all I could feel Mistress Cecilia with me. It is a wonderful feeling.

I tried a couple of videos but could not get any to load. Was there a problem with the site of my computer? I rebooted my system and once again returned to the site.
The third video I watched, my favorite of the three, was www.redtube.com/2097. It began with a pretty woman bound to a bed, her arms over her head and her legs folded and spread. She was not in control. Another woman, a blonde with long hair, came in wearing a strap-on dildo. She pleasured the bound woman. It reminded me of an earlier post in this blog…

http://relinquishedcontrol.blogspot.com/2007/09/thank-your-mistress.html

…where I state that it is the dominant one that does the most work. Even in this video, where I could imagine being the one bound to the bed, I am submissive after all; it was the second woman, the one wearing the strap-on that did all the work. Still, I strained against my chastity cage; two women, one bound, having sex, how could I not find that arousing? I could relate to the woman bound to the bed.

The video ended and I made my way into the bathroom where I clipped the lock holding my hard cock in check. I pulled the cage free and dropped it into the sink. Naked and throbbing, my cock bobbing with each step I made my way to my bedroom. I dropped onto my bed, grabbed the olive oil and coated my heated erection. My hand inched south and grabbed my cock. I began to stroke, my hand pumping until I reached that needy edge.

With the immediate need fading my hand once again gripped my cock and within moments the precipice arrived, and as before I pulled my hand away. Twice more I brought myself to that brink of completion and twice more I stopped myself short of breaching the plateau of pleasure; today’s task was to rev my engine, it was the start of the race where the finish line is unknown. I find that unknown infinitely arousing.

I climbed from my bed, my cock hard and slippery with oil and climbed into the shower. I shaved way the small, itchy hairs and stepped from the tub. I dried the pieces of the chastity device and once again locked Mistress Cecilia’s cock away. It is hers; she and I both know this. That sentence alone arouses me. With the lock in place I snapped the picture and sent it away. Already I could feel my pulse along the ring that encircled my balls. The pleasure of Friday’s orgasm was still recent enough that my body knew what it was missing and I could feel the growing pressure in my balls. The climb to that unknown date has begun.

It will be a fun journey.

Thank You Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Incomplete Thoughts

Good morning!

Last night, as I was settling in under the comforter with the air conditioning a steady, soothing drone and my two cats pestering me: one telling me that it wasn’t quite time to go to sleep and the other bathing herself next to my bed, I shut my eyes to let my mind wander as I typically do and then nothing. I couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence behind my eyes. It was as if my mind was simply telling me to shut up in an exasperated tone.

I remember thinking, no, not really thinking, trying to think.

“Let’s see, tomorrow I have to do laundry and…”

And, nothing.

“I need to go get…”

Nothing still, the thought just ended leaving a black nothingness in its place.

“That cat is driving…”

Nothing still. No matter how hard I tried I could not seem to form a complete thought. The thoughts still began, my mind was trying to fight sleep and keep me awake but somehow, each and every waking thought was snubbed before it could develop further and escalate into a full-blown internal debate and long-term discussion.

Thinking about it in the light of day, with the sun shining brightly and squirrels eating peanuts outside my door, I think that this is how Mistress Cecilia has helped me sleep better at night. I never really had trouble sleeping. When I was a teenager I would have “equalizers.” Awake for twelve, sleep for twelve. Sleeping isn’t really the issue; it’s falling asleep, the turning off my racing thoughts that prevent me from dropping into blissful slumber. If I cannot form the full thought, then it can’t escalate into a never-ending internal conversation.

I was aware of my thoughts just ending, as if I were typing and at each pause marked by a comma the sentence just ended and the thought would evaporate as steam rising from a pot of boiling rice. There, then gone with nothing but the quite darkness of the night to take its place. It was at once peaceful and fascinating but I found that I couldn’t even ponder my thoughts abruptness until this morning as I stood in the shower with my oldest cat crying for some Redi-Whip.

So, I slept through the night, nearly eight full hours and I awoke feeling just a little tired. That feeling faded after my shower and I was ready to face the day. Typically I would be tired and drag and yawn and force my way through the day feeling tense and sleepy. Right now, I’m ready to face the day.

It’s funny how powerful your mind is. It can keep you awake when all you want to do is sleep; it can find a way to make the largest of problems seem like mere ripples in a pond and it can bring a smile to your face when you think happy thoughts.

I’m smiling now.

I’m thinking of Mistress Cecilia and how, thanks to her, every day is better. I cannot thank her enough.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Plus One

Good Morning!

Time is a funny thing; how a moment can last a lifetime and how a half hour can disappear in a flash. Yesterday I was blessed with another phone call with my amazing owner. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of dialing those magic numbers that allows me to take her in and savor the timbre of her voice and the soft, sexiness of her laugh. I know I’ve mentioned her laugh, that happy, joyous sound.

We spoke briefly and I was surprised when Mistress Cecilia had me remove the chastity device for this call; I knew this was our second hypnosis call and I had not expected to be free of the cage during it. I reasoned that Mistress Cecilia thought that I would be more comfortable free of the confining plastic. I hurried to the bathroom and filled the sink with water; it’s my ritual. I doffed the chastity device, the pieces all splashing loudly as they fell into the suds.

I returned, naked, to my bedroom and lowered myself onto my bed. I shut both cats outside of the room to minimize any distractions I might have. I settled onto my back, one pillow under my head and one under each of my two arms. My legs were spread slightly; I was comfortable.

Mistress Cecilia began to speak, her voice soft and soothing. She began to count and as before, she directed me to relax each piece of my body individualy. As she mentioned them, fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, back, legs, and toes I could feel my pulse specifically there as if my mind was concentrating only on Mistress Cecilia and following along and accepting her guidance.

Lying under my comforter, naked and relaxed I once again fell asleep. I think that is the best way to describe it. I know I could hear Mistress Cecilia speaking, but I cannot recall with complete certainty what she said. It is like being asleep and dreaming only the dreams are the gentle sounding words spoken my Mistress Cecilia in her melodious voice. She counted to seven, I remember hearing that and then the only other words I can recall mentioned that I was the captain of a vessel and by that I think she meant I control my own doubts and fears and if I have control over them, how can they be something that I need to worry about?

Again, my memory is vague. I wasn’t fully awake; I’m not even certain if I was conscious. Did I speak? I don’t know. Did I move? Yes, I found when I opened my eyes later that my right hand was on my stomach and not on the pillow where it had started. But I had not been aware of moving.

When Mistress Cecilia pulled me from myself, I awoke to find my mouth was dry. I looked at the glowing red numbers of the alarm clock by my bed to find that nearly half an hour had passed. Under oath I would have sworn that less than five minutes could have elapsed, but somehow, time had slipped past like the ocean tide and yawning and stretching, my fingers flexing into tight fists, I sat up feeling like I had just slept the night away.

I was calm.

Then, Mistress Cecilia said that it was time for phase two. What did that mean? I was commanded to grab the Fleshlight, the vibrating egg, the olive oil and the Aneros plug. As directed, I lubed the rounded white plug and slipped it into my ass. I have mentioned a number of times how easy that plug slips home and how exciting it is; it does its job well.

I poured the olive oil over my cock, gasping at the difference in temperature between the room temperature oil and the heat of my cock as it grew from the feeling of the plug and the rubbing of my hand over it. As directed, I stroked my hard shaft. Up and down I pumped, the oil growing warm as I fueled my lust and brought myself to that tenuous peak. I squeaked that I was getting close and was commanded to stop. I, of course, obeyed.

Mistress Cecilia had me put the egg on the tip of my cock and hold it there. I knew just the spot. I held the egg, buzzing and dancing, over the head. I held it against the split V, letting it tease and vibrate and I could feel my whole cock tingle. I don’t know if I could ever come that way, but I can say how good it felt.

As directed, I folded my hands together with interlaced fingers. I slipped my cock into that pseudo-sex and fucked up into it. My hips would rise from the bed and my cock would slide into that oily cavity made by my hands and my ass would grip and grab the hard plastic buried in my ass. The plug would massage me and help to stoke the fires of my need. Releasing, I would lower my butt, pull my cock free of my hands and feel my ass relax. My hips rocked, my ass clenched and within moments I reached the precipice of completion.

I stroked myself next as directed. My hand slipped along my cock and I reached the third edge.

Grabbing the vibrating egg I turned it on and held it against my balls as my other hand once again stroked my erection. My hand pumped and the egg vibrated and the plus filled me and together I was once again brought to that tense edge of completion.

Again I was commanded to fold my hands together. I humped into the pussy made of my hands, my hips rising and falling and my ass gripping and relaxing against the teasing plug. I was gasping as I fucked my folded hands and then, as once again I brought myself close to completion Mistress Cecilia said, “Come for me, come for me now.”

I came; I had been so close and needy that I came. My semen poured into my folded fists and oozed down over my oily cock. I pulsed, squeezed, gasped, moaned, and probably sounded like a complete idiot. Mistress Cecilia laughed and said that I said “fuck.” Now, I don’t typically swear. My mother has never heard me utter a swear word; the only time I do cuss is when I am with my male coworkers, you swear to bond I think. Then, still buzzing, I said, “shit.”

I was tingling all over and said as much to Mistress Cecilia. That orgasm was not just the release of a need in my heavy balls; it was a release of twenty-four days of teasing, edging, needing, whole body tension. It was the most intense orgasm of my life, bar none. It was an orgasm that stretched from the balls of my feet to the top of my head. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia. I had never felt such an amazing, joyous, full body release. Wow!

I love not knowing when I am going to come next; the anticipation is crucial. The first time that Mistress Cecilia allowed me the release of an orgasm, I fairly expected it. We had begun with a two week training period and that call was on the last day of that timeframe and so was expected. The second time was at the end of another training period and that too, while not certain was not a total surprise. This orgasm I did not see coming; it came from out of the blue and left my trembling and when I stood up, my knees were weak that I grabbed the dresser by the bed to make sure I did not fall.

I loved the surprise of it. The call had begun simply as a second hypnosis call; I had not expected to even touch my cock. Then, when Mistress Cecilia commanded that I grab the Fleshlight, I expected to use it, but it sat unused on the nightstand by my bed. Again, I anticipated one thing and was rewarded with something else. A whole body orgasm that left me trembling and shaking with chills. I have no idea when my next orgasm will be. Next week? Next month? December? Can I expect to come in less than twenty-four days or will a full month pass? I have no idea and I don’t want to know. Knowing would diminish the experience.

It had been twenty-four days since my last orgasm, and it topped my previous record by just one day. It had been only the third orgasm since August 24th; my orgasms are few but so encompassing that I now understand the saying “quality not quantity.” This is an electric, joyous, amazing journey that makes me tingle with joy and bubble with life. I feel alive.

We said good-bye and I hung up the phone; it was time to clean up.

I climbed to my feet, still tingling. I pulled the chastity device from the sink; it was time to lock up again. The chastity device is such a part of me, as is Mistress Cecilia, that I would feel incomplete without them. I pulled the plug from my ass and took a shower, once again scraping away any errant hairs from my crotch. Then, dry and calm and feeling like I could sleep for a week, I once again donned the chastity cage and clicked the lock shut.

Complete. I felt complete.

I had the most intense orgasm of my life and I owe that to my beautiful owner.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Everything

Good morning one and all and a special good morning to Mistress Cecilia!

Yesterday afternoon I received an assignment from my beautiful owner; the first assignment in five days and the first time I would have to remove the chastity cage in nearly four days when I was last blessed with a phone call. At the time of this post I have once again breached a new milestone. This morning makes twenty-four days since I have felt that joyous release of ejaculation; the pleasure of completion and it is appropriate that part of this assignment was to write about what that long term denial means to me. It wasn’t until I read the assignment that I realized that the long term was not something I had written about before. I find it amazing how Mistress Cecilia can come up with tasks for me to write about that I myself had neglected to mention.

I filled the sink with water and snipped the lock free. For the first time since Sunday I was free of the hard, plastic cage. I made my way into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of black thigh-high stockings. I donned a black garter belt and fastened the stays to the stockings. The feel of the taut garter strap against my naked thigh is an arousing feeling that always makes my cock pulse. With the stockings in place I lowered my naked body onto my bed. I grabbed the olive oil and poured it on my hard cock. I began to stroke normally, my right hand rubbing my hot, slippery cock. My hand pistoned on my cock and in less than a minute I reached that horny, needy edge.

I pulled my hand free and waited for the immediate need to wane before I started again. I used the milking procedure that Mistress Cecilia had taught me, using upward strokes only, alternating between my right and left hands. I pumped my cock, up and up and up and up, raising my desperation, fueling my lust and once again, feeling needy and desperate I pulled my hand away.

With the immediate tension waning I folded my two hands into a pseudo-pussy and fucked my hard cock into my folded hands. I thrust my hips into my hands and dropped them back to the bed. Up and down I fucked my hands and in no time I once again reached the tense edge between release and denial. I pulled my hand away.

Shifting and needy I rolled over and twisted my hand backward. I was working through the techniques that Mistress Cecilia had taught me. With my hand underneath my naked body I slipped my hand into my shifted hand and began to thrust my hips up and down, my ass mooning the quiet room. I humped my hand and drove myself once again to the edge of fruition. And, as before, I stopped, holding my body still and tense.

I rolled onto my back and just grabbed my cock and began to stroke. Up and down my hand pistoned and within seconds I once again reached the edge of completion. I held my body taut as I waited, breathing heavily and my arms laced with goose pimples as I waited for the edge to recede.

Five down, one to go. I jumped to my knees and with my hard cock bouncing with my pulse I knelt and slipped my slippery cock into the chamber formed by folding my two hands together. I fucked my folded hands, my hips rocking and the bed shaking under my motions. And in moments I once again reached that needy, desperate edge. I pulled my hands away and waited for the edge to wane, to shift away like the tide. And, finally, I could only feel my hornyiness boiling in my heavy balls. I glanced at the clock; it had taken less than seven minutes to climb to the edge those six times.

I took a shower and shave my crotch anew. Climbing from the shower I rinsed and cleaned the chastity device and once again donned the hard cage. I snapped the lock in place and took a picture of Mistress Cecilia’s property once again trapped inside the chastity cage. I mailed the picture and sat down to begin the second part of the assignment; this post.

It was time to recollect, to gather up my thoughts and to put to page what Mistress Cecilia’s control means to me; how she has changed my life and what these lengthy denial periods mean to me. I have touched on quite a bit of these points in my previous posts, but I have not gathered them together nor have I mentioned what the long-term denial means to me; most of my posts have been in the moment, not as a collected whole.

A week from today, I will have Relinquished Control of my submissive self to Mistress Cecilia for two months and in that time, what? What has happened, how have I progressed and how has my life been altered during these past seven plus weeks? Well, a lot of that comes with knowing who I was before I gave up the control that I needed to lose. Who I was before is directly part of who I am now.

When I began this journey I knew that I had this need to submit but I was not sure what that fully entailed. I have read countless stories but was there every any truth in them? How many stories begin with the words, “I never thought this would happen to me?” Countless fictions have ran past my eyes and have fueled my masturbatory fantasies; would serving live up to the expectations revealed to me in fiction?

I am a submissive man; I make no apologies for it as a squirrel does not apologize for being a squirrel. Does that make me weak? Far from it; I now think there is a strength in being able to submit to another, to allow their will, wants, needs and desires to take the place of your own. Serving Mistress Cecilia, submitting to her does not make me feel small; I feel large and more complete. At the onset, I would have thought that serving another makes me weak, I have learned with full certainty that there is strength in submission. It is a wonderful sensation.

Fear.

I have spoken of the fear I felt when I would dial the phone to call Mistress Cecilia. I have never allowed that fear the power to control me; each time I was able to step forward and dial the numbers. It has become easier to makes those calls and now I look forward to them, I savor them. I have stepped past the fear to give myself up to my owner fully and I have learned to trust her with all of my secrets and I have let her into all of my dark places that had long ago been hidden away.

Opening myself up to Mistress Cecilia I have become more outgoing in the world beyond the comfortable walls of my home. She gave me the strength to enter a strip club; without her I would never have been able to do that. She has given me the strength to accept myself and with her help I have faced my insecurities and Mistress Cecilia is helping to bolster my confidence. I sleep better at night, now, thanks to my delightful and beautiful owner.

As I stated, this morning makes twenty four days since I have last cum. Has it been easy? No, it has not. There are days where the pressure in my balls is felt as tension in my stomach. If I am awake, I am aware of the tingling in my trapped cock as if a thousand little ants continue an endless, relentless trek under the skin; in my mind I can seem them marching two by two with cartoony music playing in the background. The tingling is ever present.

Each day that pressure grows and that need climbs. If I have an assignment, or a phone call, and I must tease myself and deny my pleasure that felling of desperate need escalates and becomes almost unbearable. But, here is the interesting part, the part that makes it worthwhile and makes me want to continue well into the future. I enjoy that burning, tingling, distracting need. With it I feel my submission to Mistress Cecilia; I can feel her control over me, I can feel the control that I have relinquished and I savor that feeling. Now that I have allowed it to flourish, why would I want it to end?

Let me talk about the chastity device for a bit. When I turned myself over to Mistress Cecilia, I had only had thoughts of chastity and had never experienced it. It was a fantasy and I can say that my reality has surpassed that fantasy. It was Friday, September 5th that the first lock clicked shut, sealing my cock behind the strong plastic of the CB-6000 and since that day there has only been two days that my cock has not been caged. Now, thanks to that error on my part, there is a standing order that after an assignment I will lock the chastity device back in place even if it is not specifically written; you have to put your toys away.

The chastity device is a part of me now; Mistress Cecilia is a part of me now, she is part of who I am. There is not a moment that I do not feel her presence. The ring around my balls and the cage that surrounds my cock is much more than plastic; the chastity device is an extension of Mistress Cecilia and wearing it I feel her with me; it’s a wonderful, amazing and delicious feeling. The only thing that I would want to try different, even once at some distant time, is to have Mistress Cecilia hold a real key to a real lock.But, for now, the numbered plastic locks serves the purpose well.

The chastity cage makes me feel owned! It’s a simple and joyous as that. Every minute, every hour, every day, I feel Mistress Cecilia with me and I feel her control over me and I feel owned. I feel her control, the control that I have relinquished and with it I feel complete and that feeling overwhelms and trumps the feeling of horny desperation I feel in denying myself the brief, fleeting release of orgasm.

With my fantasy of chastity, would I wear one if I held my own key? No, I don’t think so. It isn’t the plastic cage or the tight ring that fuels the fantasy; it is relinquishing that key to another. It is losing the control of myself that makes the fantasy so exciting and the experience so captivating. It is not the lock that is exciting, it’s who owns the key.

Mistress Cecilia owns me. She knows this. I have told her this and she has made me shudder with happiness by acknowledging it. It is one thing that I think she owns me; it is something far greater that Mistress Cecilia knows that she owns me. Can you see the difference and how one is infinitely larger than the other? We both know that I am hers. It’s an amazing feeling that I cherish.

Mistress Cecilia owns me and I feel that ownership daily.

So, ultimately, what does Mistress Cecilia’s control mean to me? It means everything. I’m stronger, braver and I sleep better at night. I serve Mistress Cecilia as best I can and I believe that I can please her and that I do please her. And, I want to please her.

How good has Mistress Cecilia been to me? Words cannot describe how much better my life is; how good that she makes me feel. I wake each day feeling more complete and comfortable within my own skin. When you know that you need to do something, in my case serve, and you finally free yourself from your own fears and allow yourself what you had been missing, well, it’s cathartic.

A piece of myself that had been missing has come home.

I feel whole.

Thank You Mistress Cecilia

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Free Time

Good morning, one and all.

There are so many things that change when you are locked within the tight confines of a chastity device. I have touched on some of them. Yesterday, at work, I once again commented to myself how unclean men can be as I ventured into a public restroom and had to clean the seat before I was able to slip my pants and panties down and use the bathroom. I have heard the argument that men need to lower the seat when they finish, I’d be happy if they’d raise it and keep the seat clean. Now I see where women are coming from; men are pigs.

I used to spend a lot of time perusing the internet, reading stories about bondage and cross-dressing, chastity and domination. I have a lot more free time lately now that I am locked in a cage; I no longer spend that time browsing porn. I have taken to reading Get Fuzzy; that cat and dog dynamic is great and I really enjoy how Bucky Katt has only one fang. The flaw makes him more real; I made a comment like that when I went to the strip club, with the one dancer that had a large bruise on her thigh.

I have had the time to get caught up on my favorite T.V. shows as well, with the time not spent reading porn. Heroes and House and Dexter, I don’t miss a one. It’s kind of nice to be current with things. I purchase the paper on a daily basis, the dateline serving as the backdrop to the picture of Mistress Cecilia’s locked cock. With my free time I peruse the paper; it’s never a bad thing to stay up to date on current affairs.

I spend quite a bit of my newly acquired free time now posting to this blog. I have written countless words, okay I guess I could count them but that would be fruitless, about my journey with Mistress Cecilia; how she has guided me, trained me, and molded me. I have written about what I have done for her and how it has made me feel. Hopefully, those that have read these words can understand both me and my deep-seated insecurities.

The things I have revealed about myself here on these pages amazes me. When I made my first post, Relinquished Control, I revealed how I have signed on for training with Mistress Cecilia and why I thought I needed that. As the entries progressed I have revealed even more and as time passes towards infinity I am certain that I will bare even more of myself to whoever opts to read these words. I hope that these pages have proven both informative and entertaining; I’d hate to think that these posts are boring.

With my free time, I have time to think. That is a dangerous thing. A man with insecurities does not need time to ponder them. It is easy to spiral down into thoughts of inadequacies and second guessing. However, and this is the part that makes me smile, I don’t ponder my insecurities near as much as I ponder my submission. Mistress Cecilia’s ownership of me and the tight grip of her hand on my cock takes center stage of the three ring circus that is my mind.
I must admit that my insecurities seem a little less monstrous; a tad smaller.

Mistress Cecilia has accepted me as hers and that has done wonders for me. With her, I have grown. I cannot thank her enough.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Insertables and Pervertables

Good morning.

I was thinking today about the toys that I have: my leather cuffs and bondage gear, my high-heel shoes, my butt plugs, my Fleshlight, my cock ring, my nipple clamps, my vibrator and vibrating egg and it got me thinking about these toys and when I began collecting them and when I used them for the first time. It is a bit strange, what it was that I inserted into my ass the first time I did insert something. When was this and why? Well, that is what this post is about.

When I was a teen, I found this thick, hard covered book with countless stories contained within. I read that book from cover to cover and back again, savoring the words captured there on those many pages. Stories of bondage and sex, spanking and cross-dressing, submission and domination: they all danced inside my mind; pictures forming behind my eyes as I read the words. Things I had never thought of, hell, activities I had never even imagined.

As a teen I absorbed it all and knew that there were activities that I would have to try, to experience, to experiment. But, where does a sixteen year old boy get access to bondage gear and butt plugs, dildos and panties? I grew up in a fairly conservative town; small-town U.S.A. It wasn’t like there was an adult book store on every street corner; hell there wasn’t a place in town to get the things I was reading about and even if there was, I was way too young. No, I would have to improvise.

Pervertable is an interesting word; I like it. Pervertable: to take a normal, mundane item and pervert it into a sex toy. If you have read this post you know that I have used one item in particular, one item that I have used as a pervertable. The spatula that sits in the drawer next to the refrigerator has been used as a make-shift paddle; it has been perverted if you will. Wooden spoons have worked, the thin dowel that closes the vertical blinds can work as a cane. We have all heard of a ping pong paddle being used for more than just playing ping pong, right?

What else do you have lying about? If you use your imagination, I’d wager you can find hundreds of everyday items just waiting to be used.

The very first time I read about a butt plug, the man in the story seemed to enjoy it immensely. So, I wanted to try inserting something into my ass, but what? Well, my father was in the military and he had a douche kit, the black bag that contained all his toiletries for when he showered. Inside there he kept a hollow tube that kept his toothbrush clean. The tube split in half to allow the toothbrush to be pulled free and replaced. He had a few extras and I remember shaking as I stole the old one; I knew what I was going to do with it and that was both scary and exciting.

With my pilfered treasure I snuck into my bedroom and ferreted it away. Now, what was I going to use as lube? Well, I didn’t have any KY jelly but there was Vaseline in the house. I found the square tub and snuck that into my room, too. And there I was, lying naked on my bed, my legs splayed like a frog on a dissection table with the blue container caked with the clear petroleum jelly. I struggled and finally slipped the round tube into my ass. I remember this because of what followed. The tube, being hollow, allowed me to slip my finger into that void and I was thinking how cool this is, I have my finger in my ass and can’t feel a thing; I was open as if using a speculum. As a young man, who was discovering his kinky side, it was an amazing sensation.

I masturbated. I did that a lot.

It hurt, I remember that. Did that make me stop? No, it meant I was doing it wrong or that I needed practice. And practice I did; countless times I spread my legs, lubed up the light blue tube and slipped it into my naked and now non-virgin ass. That was my first butt plug.

It was decades later that I bought my first real butt plug. The internet is a great place to satisfy any toy urges that you may have. The first real plug was an odd light brown color and had a vibrator built in. With it inserted and buzzing away I would have some amazing masturbatory sessions; even before I met Mistress Cecilia I owned a butt plug.

Then, thanks to my beautiful owner, I was introduced to the Aneros plug. It is smaller than the butt plug and slips in so much easier. Does that mean it is less pleasurable? No, I find it more enjoyable. It size and shape are more contoured, designed for pleasure and the male anatomy and not just a bland, round shape. Masturbating, teasing, edging with the Aneros, feeling my body clamp down on it as the flared end massages the gap between my balls and ass, feels more enjoyable than the vibrating plug that I have here. The only thing that the Aneros doesn’t do is expand; the black on in my toy drawer has an air pump that can make it bigger. It can really fill your ass.

What else have I buried in my ass? I have used a dildo before, fucking myself with the phallic piece. I have tied a dildo to my chair. Have a seat? Fill your ass. Why? Well it’s kinky and I am definitely kinky. I have used a highlighter and a Sharpie, a brush handle and a candle. I remember one time, sticking a thin taper in my ass, raising my hips above my head and lighting the wick so that the candle wax rained down on me. I only did that once, that wax burned. It was years later that I learned that you need special wax for wax play. Aging isn’t always bad; there is wisdom in it.

Raising my hips above my head, I’ve done that more than once. Have you ever placed a towel under your head and masturbate with your legs tied wide and held aloft so that you come on your own face? I read that once and, well, I had to try it. I did mention I am kinky, right? Sperm stings your eyes, I don't recommend it.

I will close with this thought. Look around you, there are countless things you can use as a sex toy from spatulas to brush handles, hard-boiled eggs (yes, they can be hard to retrieve) to clothes hangers you find in any hotel in America, the double clamps bite quite hard. Have you ever hung yourself in a closet by your nipples? It hurts but it’s kinky.

There are countless things to experiment with; only your imagination limits you

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Hypnotic Interlude

Hello boys and girls and good morning, Mistress Cecilia.

Now that a few days have passed I thought I would type up a few thoughts as a follow-up to the first hypnosis session that I had with my wonderful owner. As I had revealed in a previous post, I cannot recall what was said to me. I remember being very relaxed and I admit that I fell asleep which I have been told is not rude as I had thought and certainly not abnormal. I felt better hearing that; how rude is it to fall asleep while someone, in this case the beautiful Mistress Cecilia, is talking to you?

First off, why the title? Why interlude? Well, an interlude is a stepping stone, an intermission, if you will. I see that first hypnosis call as the beginning of a journey, the first of many. I believe that, if she is willing, Mistress Cecilia and I will have a few more of those hypnotic calls. This was just the first of many.

What do I recall about that call? I remember falling asleep; I remember how relaxed I felt following that call, how it had felt that I had slept a full night away even though a half hour had past. I remember the soft tone of Mistress Cecilia’s voice; how her tone was relaxing and calm and as smooth as velvet. It is a mesmerizing, captivating voice.

The goal of that call was to bolster my confidence. Has that happened? I can’t say that it has, but that means nothing. If it is higher, how would I know? I can only act as myself, I can only be myself and if I am more confident than that is who I am and therefore my activities and actions are set by my current personae. Did I feel more confident? No.

What did I gain? Well, when I go to sleep at night, turning out the light and climbing under my comforter with the air set to a cool sixty-two degrees, I would spend sometimes hours tossing and turning with my mind spinning with the speed of a Nascar race. My day would run behind my eyes; I would relive conversations and think about my perceived errors even if there were no mistakes. My mind would cartwheel over the upcoming day; planning out each waking moment from when I’d wake up until I would go to sleep the following evening. I’d contemplate breakfast, lunch, dinner and even what television show I’d watch the next day.

My mind was like a lamp with only a dimmer and no off switch.

Well, now, following that wonderful call where I seemed to pull myself into consciousness from some hidden depths I did notice a surprising improvement. Following that call, I find that I can fade from being awake to asleep in less than half an hour. My mind doesn’t seem to race at night as it used to. I spoke to Mistress Cecilia and she said it was something that she had said to me during that hypnotic call. I do not remember her mentioning it; I was not awake, but I do notice the marked improvement.

So, I cannot say that I am any more confident but I can say that I fall asleep much easier than I used to. I believe that only good can come from another hypnotic call. But, to me, how bad can it be to let Mistress Cecilia into my head, to open myself up to her fully with no barriers or guards in place. I trust her and have faith in what she can do. She has already made my life better and I am happier for being hers. She owns me; it’s a good thing.

And there is fun to be had.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

"What Color Are Your Balls?"

Good morning!

Yesterday evening I was blessed with another phone call from my delightful owner, Mistress Cecilia. Even when dialing makes me nervous the joy of the call quickly overwhelms those butterflies until only happiness remains. I get to server my owner, and hear her voice and spend time with her; she’s intelligent, articulate and has a voice that is mesmerizing. And her laugh, there is not better sound.

The call began with polite pleasantries; without them I’d stammer through the call, but they allow me to calm down. Mistress Cecilia has wonderful empathy, as well. She then took charge, threw the switch in my head that dropped me into my submissive self. As instructed I slipped the Aneros plug into my ass. I clenched on the plug, feeling my ass grab, swallow and hold the plug with decisive firmness.

I grabbed the vibrating egg and set it to a medium speed. I held it against the parted V at the head of my cock, feeling it buzz and vibrate and tease; and yes, it was a tease. The split V is the most sensitive part of my cock, it is where I rub when Mistress Cecilia commands me to tease the head; I know just the spot. The egg vibrated and I trembled with lust. She had me run the egg down my shaft and then caress my balls with them. I obeyed, slipping the egg lower until it was taunting my full balls.

And, as directed, I began to stroke and the egg vibrating against my swollen balls. My hand pumped my cock and in moments, nineteen days of frustration behind me and an unknown number spilling out before me, I reached the pinnacle of completion and as I always do, as I must do, I let Mistress Cecilia know that I was close. And, as she directed, I stopped.

I turned off the egg and once again edged myself, this time cupping my balls with my left hand as I fueled my desire with my right. It did not take long to reach that edge. I have mentioned how denying myself makes me feel submissive; how riding that ridge of pleasure and denial and putting my desires behind those of Mistress Cecilia makes me feel somehow more than I am. Once again, denying myself, I felt my submissiveness swell; it is a wonderful feeling.

As directed I folded my hand into a fake pussy and with my cock coated with baby oil, I thrust my hips into the opening formed by my hands. Each upward thrust teased my cock and made my ass grasp with Aneros even tighter. Up, tight squeeze, down, release. Up, taunt my hot cock, down, gasp with pleasure. The cycle repeated until the edge appeared, begging me to just continue on. I stopped as I was ordered to do.
I rotated my hands over my cock, wringing it out as Mistress Cecilia asked me, “what color are your balls? Are they blue?”

I think the term blue balls is a misnomer; my balls seem to run an angry shade of red. With my cock trapped within the unyielding plastic of the chastity cage, and the ring encircling my balls, there is very little room for shifting. I use the smallest spacer so that there is no way I can get free and the tighter grip reminds me of Mistress Cecilia’s firm presence all the more. As such, my balls are pushed up and out and they maintain a dark red hue. When I pull the cage and look at them I can see the contrast in color between them and the white skin of my denuded crotch. So, blue is not entirely accurate, but they are darker, shall we say purple? However, blue balls means desperate and by that definition, they are blue.

Teasing the head as I was commanded to do Mistress Cecilia asked me how many days it has been since I have last come.

“Nineteen.” I don’t keep track, but I do know. As I type this, it has been twenty days; it was nineteen during our call.

Then, she asked me what was my longest duration and that question made my foolish mind race. My record in training with Mistress Cecilia is currently twenty-three days. When I first started, before we had our first introductory phone call it had been a week since I had had that joyous release and Mistress Cecilia had allowed me that pleasure after twenty-three consecutive days. Well, I informed Mistress Cecilia how long my record was, even commenting on the eight week stretch in Boot Camp that I didn’t really count and when I said the words I knew that I would be breaking that record. I can’t help but think that she knew the answer before she asked the question, isn’t that what good lawyers do?

But, that simple question told me so much. Thursday will tie the record and I just bet that I will beat it. Mistress Cecilia will guide me and help me grow and push my limits and isn’t a record just another term for limit? I believe so. But, and I know I should just erase these next few thoughts, but I can’t. Lying in bed last night, feeling Mistress Cecilia’s firm grip on my cock I was playing our call over in my head and I could feel myself trying to grow erect inside the cage as the thought of this record stretch being broken and then a question came to my mind, a question I should not ask as the answer may get me in trouble. If my record is currently twenty-three days, I wonder what the record is of all her pets, who has the longest dry spell. Then, the thought came, could I break that? See, I should just keep my big trap shut. But my mind has a way of tripping over itself and here, in this blog, I can be nothing but honest.

I played with the head of my cock, twisting the head like opening a mayonnaise jar. Taunting the head and fueling my desire. Then, as directed, I once again began to stroke my cock. Up and down my hand pistoned over my cock and within moments that delightful, submissive edge arrived and I pulled my hand away as I heard “no,” in my ear. I swear with her voice she could read the ingredients of a Slim Jim (what is mechanically separated chicken?) and make it sound sexy.

Then, I stroked my cock with one hand while toying with the head with the other hand and as before, that tense edge approached and as before I pulled my hand away before topping that peak.

Then I milked my cock; this is probably one of my favorite techniques. With upward stokes only, switching hands, I rubbed my cock. Up, left, up with the right, up left, up right, up and up and up only I stroked. It is like pulling your cock free of a wet pussy only you never seem to reach the end. You pull out and out and out with each upward stroke. My hands switched, left and right and back until once again I brought myself to that needy, desperate, blue edge. And, as before, I was commanded to stop.

And it was done; time to lock back up. Mistress Cecilia listened as I rinsed the pieces of the chastity device sitting in the bathroom sink. I rinsed the pieces and then pulled the Aneros from my ass and dropped it into the soapy water. I dried the pieces of the CB-6000 and while describing what I was doing: donning the encircling ring, installing the spacer, putting on the cage, snapping the lock shut, Mistress Cecilia heard it all.

And horny, my fire burning and my balls hot and purple, we said goodbye. I snapped a picture of the new lock and sent it away; there can be no doubt in Mistress Cecilia's mind her cock is caged.

A call with Mistress Cecilia is a wonderful thing and even if I start out nervous I never seem to stay that way. If you have not called her, well, what are you waiting for? You’ll be glad you did.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Bubblin'

Good morning one and all!

Yesterday afternoon, there in my mailbox, was a new assignment from my beautiful owner, Mistress Cecilia. Just seeing it made my heart race and a grin appear on my face. It was an opportunity to serve, an opportunity to obey and any chance I have to please my owner makes my day. I read the assignment and gathered up two pairs of panties, a soft pair of yellow briefs and the silkiest ones I own, a light orange pair.

I filled the sink with sudsy water and snipped the lock that held Mistress Cecilia’s cock in its plastic prison. With my cock free and growing full I donned the yellow briefs and walked with my cock trapped and bulging against the cool material of my panties. I made my way to my bedroom and lowered myself onto my bed. I pulled the waistband of my panties down and hooked them under my heavy balls.

I reached down and began to stroke my needy cock. My hand pumped my heated flesh, stoking my need. Up and down my hand moved; I rubbed my cock, fueled my desire and escalated my desperation. I stroked my cock until that thin line of completion appeared and with that edge I pulled my hand free of my cock and waited for the feeling to subside to merely a burning need.

There is something very submissive in edging. To bring yourself to that point where the desire to come is so strong and so overwhelming and then to stop yourself for the pleasure of your owner makes me feel submissive and owned. My desires take second place to those of Mistress Cecilia and in that capitulation, in serving, I get more pleasure than a momentary release of sexual tension could ever bring. Maybe that is why I like it so much. Does that make any sense to you? That denying yourself is more pleasurable than the actual act of completion? I think that the denial is more encompassing, more fulfilling, it radiates outward in waves of joy and with my body taut with need I feel more emotionally, intellectually and spiritually complete.

Once again, with the most immediate need just bubbling in my hot balls, I grabbed my hard cock. I began to stroke and in moments that delicious precipice of completion, that taut edge of pleasure, arrived. I pulled my hand away, feeling the ache in my balls and a horny need in the pit of my stomach. My need hovered and holding my hands to my sides I waited for the edge to dwindle to just a dull ache. My body was hot and my legs were spread wide with my toes curled into tight fists; holding myself sill I waited for the edge to subside.

Twice more I stroked my turgid flesh and twice more I stopped myself from completion. That pleasure was for Mistress Cecilia only and I knew that today was not the day. I waited for the edge to dwindle, feeling tense and achy. The waistband of my panties pressed against my full balls and I could feel the heat in my testicles that were bubbling with need.

I picked up the orange panties, the softest, silkiest ones I owned. I stuck my hand in them, pressing my hand fully against the soft, full seat. I gripped my cock with the soft fabric and once again I stroked my cock. The material was cold against my skin and I drew in a wet breath of pleasure. I stroked myself with the silky material, driving my need, and stoking the fires of my lust. I edged and pulled my hand away before the precipice was crossed.

Lying on the bed and breathing heavily, I once again began rubbing my erection. Up and down I stroked, feeling the need climb closer and higher. I stroked, pumping my fist, faster and faster until, for the sixth time in less than twenty minutes I reached that delicious, longing precipice. I pulled my hand free and waited, my cock bouncing like a bobber on a lake, for the immediate need to pass.

I climbed to my feet and made my way into the bathroom. I took a shower and ran a razor over my heated skin. Freshly shaved I climbed from the shower and once again locked Mistress Cecilia’s cock away. My balls were heavy and red and I could still feel how horny I was in my balls and my stomach.

And, with it all, I felt submissive and whole.

For that, I can only say, thank you.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Necking

Good morning!

The other day I was watching the movie Shakespeare in Love. I have mentioned how I enjoy the Disney Pixar movies from Toy Story to Ratatouille; you can’t go wrong with a Pixar film. Well, I also have an affinity for period pieces. Movies that take place in Old England and the like, Shakespeare In Love, Dangerous Liaisons, Elizabeth, Braveheart, Pride and Prejudice and even the HBO series Rome.

Well, I was watching Shakespeare in Love and it dawned on me that Gwyneth Paltrow has a very lovely neck. There was one scene where she was being undressed and it was her neck that I noticed more than her bare breasts.

I have a thing for necks. There is a strength in necks that holds the head up high and proud; maybe it is that strength I am attracted to. I prefer strong, dominant women.

Imagine lightly tracing your fingers over a woman’s neck, starting just below her ear and trailing downward, under her chin and back up. Then, reverse your fingers and caress the smooth skin with the back of your fingers, so lightly that she gets chills. Bend forward, taking in the smell of her perfume and the heat of her body. Imagine planting small, tender kisses along the strong skin as your hand softly caresses the back of her neck.

The, with the smell of her perfume, Chance by Chanel, guiding you forward your kisses grow stronger, more urgent, until your tongue snakes free of your mouth and you lick up her neck to her ear where you plant fast, needy kisses all while you hold her and massage the back of her head. You reverse sides and kiss and lick and tongue her other ear and neck, feeling the warmth of her in your arms and smelling the sweetness of her perfume and the taste of her skin.

Still you kiss her neck, from one side, shifting downward and up the other. You massage the nape of her neck and then kiss there, feeling the small hairs stand on end as a shiver races through her body. Tickle-soft caresses to strong, urgent licks, the neck is an orchestra of nerves and sensations waiting to be discovered and played.

Even the old-fashioned word for kissing or making out is called necking. Why do you suppose that it? Well, like me, others find necks to be remarkably sexy and arousing. Kissing from the onset has never been confined to the lips.

Yes, necks are sexy. Mistress Cecilia has one sexy neck.

It’s funny where one’s mind can go when given free range to wander.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Buzz

Good morning, one and all!

Yesterday I received a new assignment from Mistress Cecilia, and as always, I hastened to obey. I filled the sink with water and snipped the lock holding my cock at bay. It has been nearly four days since I had last freed my cock and the cool air of my home felt good on me growing and heated flesh. I grabbed my new, vibrating egg and settled down onto my bed with my cock standing firm and pointing skyward like a fleshy sundial.

With fresh batteries in the vibrating egg I slid the black lever forward, setting the toy into a fury of activity. Holding the egg my fingers began to oscillate and tingle, the egg moved with such velocity. I ran it over my cock and balls as I had been directed, feeling the egg vibrate and massage my needy cock. I played the toy over my cock and balls and gasped aloud when I reached the split V at the top of my cock.

I turned the egg off and began to stroke myself and within moments I reached that needy edge. My body tensed as I pulled my hand free of my cock and waited for the precipice to recede and fade. With the immediate need behind me I once again grabbed the vibrating egg.

I ran the egg around my cock and balls and found that if I trapped the egg between my balls and my thigh, on both the left and right sides, my body shook with pleasure. It vibrated and buzzed and I could feel it along my bobbing shaft. The vibrations fueled my lust. My hand shook with the egg; the power of that little motor was astounding.

I set the egg down and grabbed my cock again. I stroked and stroked and rapidly I approached the tense edge of completion once again. And, as before, I pulled my hand away and held my body still as the immediate need subsided.

Again, I picked up the egg. I rubbed it over my balls and felt it going crazy in my hand. Running it around I once again held it in the open V on the head of my cock and gripped the egg by the black wire. It buzzed and I pulsed and felt my pleasure climb but not peak. It was like a constant rise without the possibility of coming. I held it there, savoring the buzzing until I felt the tip of my cock grow hot with the strength of the buzzing.

I set the egg down, switching it off, and once again began to stroke my erection. Up and down my fist pumped until I felt my balls tighten in preparation of release. I pulled my hand away and waited tensely for the edge to fade to only a dull need.

Three more times I caressed my cock and balls with the vibrating egg and three more times I stroked my cock to that brink of completion. And each time I stopped short, I was not allowed to have an orgasm; today was not my day. Only Mistress Cecilia can dictate that joyous release, I have yielded myself to her and am happier for it. She makes me feel whole and I welcome her control.

I put the egg away made my way into the bathroom, my cock pointing the way. I climbed into the shower and shaved my cock and balls; it has been over a week since I had ran a razor over my flesh; the cage had not been removed, but for a phone session with Mistress Cecilia, in over eight days and this was the first opportunity I had for grooming.

I climbed out of the shower, my flesh smooth and rinsed the chastity cage. Feeling horny and desperate and the presence of my owner, I once again donned the chastity cage and snapped the new lock shut. It has been sixteen days since I have last come and I have no idea when I will be allowed that pleasure again. I cherish the feeling of being owned, of relinquishing control and being the best submissive man that I can be for Mistress Cecilia. And I am thankful for her guidance and training. She makes me feel whole.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

On Golden Pond

Good morning.

It was with nervous anticipation that I picked up the phone… no, let me back up. I received a message from Mistress Cecilia saying that we would have our hypnosis call shortly and that I had a bit of time to prepare. How does one prepare for a hypnosis call? I had no idea but I had about forty-five minutes to do so. Well, I changed the linens on the bed; that seemed a good first step. Clean, cool sheets. I think I have mentioned that I like towels, well, I like sheets, too. So I changed the sheets and laid out a clean comforter as well.

I then took a nice, hot shower. The water rained down over my head, drifted over my shoulders and down my back and finally down the drain. I climbed from the shower, dried off, and donned a clean pair of panties over Mistress Cecilia’s chastity device; she owns it, I just wear it. Wearing nothing else I sat at my desk and waited for our call. But, I wasn’t able to relax. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest so hard that I felt obligated to check my pulse; it was a little elevated. Why was I so nervous? Well, I worry about everything and I was once again breaching the unknown.

And then, it was time.

It was with nervous anticipation that I picked up the phone and dialed Mistress Cecilia’s number. She greeted me with a smile; I could hear it in her soft voice. I know that my voice was tinged with nervousness and I am certain that my owner could hear it. I lowered myself on to my bed as we talked about my lack of confidence and why I felt that it was there that I needed the most help. I stammered over my words, my nervousness making my thoughts appear addled.

And listening to Mistress Cecilia speak, I obeyed. And for me, it was easy to obey. The hypnosis session began with Mistress Cecilia directing me to relax and the submissive part of my personae followed along with pure trust and absolute faith. She began counting to seven, directing me to relax.

As she spoke I felt something strange; she would mention a part of my body to relax, my face, my neck, shoulders, chest, arms, fingers, and with each part she mentioned I could feel my pulse in that body part. When she directed my knees to relax, I felt my pulse in my knees. And all at once I felt something else I had never felt before; I felt my pulse simultaneously in just about every part of my body at once. That is the best way for me to describe it, even now as I type this, my memory is a little fuzzy; I am not confused, the memory is just glazed over and impure.

There are two experiences with my eyes that are clear. Once, as Mistress Cecilia counted and guided me down into myself, I opened my eyes. They did not stay open, they could not stay open. What I did see was interesting. Imagine a stormy day with rain falling in heavy sheets. Imagine staring out the window as the rain sheets the glass and the world beyond the window grows hazy and hidden in the storm; that was how my vision appeared through my slightly opened eyes.

The second thing I remember concerning my vision was that as Mistress Cecilia counted, each time she incremented a number the vision behind my closed eyes grew darker. Each number was as if a new, darker curtain fell over my eyes causing my eyesight to fade and became black, then blacker and finally blacker still.

At once I could hear my shallow breathing and the air conditioning droning outside my bedroom window and then I could hear nothing. I know that Mistress Cecilia was speaking, guiding me, but I cannot tell you precisely what she said. I knew what we were aiming for and so I can speculate what her words were but little else.

I heard the number five reach my ears; was she counting up or down? I could not say, but I heard the number five and then, almost instantly I was awake. I yawned, stretched and was finally able to speak. “I think I fell asleep.” It was the only thought in my head and it was an apology; should I have fallen asleep? I felt guilty.

Mistress Cecilia laughed and said that it happens. Have I mentioned how there is no greater sound that her laugh? It is an amazing sound and I love hearing it.

When I said that my fingers were tingling, and they were tingling as if they, too, had fallen asleep, there was a hint of surprise in my voice. I mentioned how my toes were cold; it was as if my body was waking from a deep slumber from my extremities inward. I rubbed my feet with my hands. And, suddenly, I was awake, wide awake. I felt rested. I looked at the clock and was surprised that a half hour had passed; surely we had not been on the phone that long. But the red face of my alarm clock proved that time had marched forward.

We spoke briefly and I whispered a soft “thank you.”

I cannot say if I am any more confident, just as I cannot say how thirty minutes could have disappeared in a flash, and I cannot say why I have titled this post On Golden Pond, it just seemed appropriate. But I can say that something happened. I felt as if I had slept the night away in that half hour. I felt relaxed and calm and suddenly hungry. Something happened, that’s all I can say with any certainty.

Yes, something happened. I did not feel any different but time snuck past like a thief and my mind was wide awake but not racing. I felt calm. I apologize if this post seems vague, but my memory is a tad fuzzy.

I thanked Mistress Cecilia again and hung up the phone with another new experience behind me. She has helped me grow in countless ways and I feel honored and blessed to have her own me.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Chills

Good morning!

Last night I turned out the lights and took stock of myself with my eyes shut and only the repetitive drone of the air conditioning running in the background to provide any distraction from my thoughts. I had chills racing down my arms as they sat on my stomach, my fingers folded together. And, the reason for those chills that made my arms prickle with goose pimples is the reason for this post.

Submission.

With my eyes shut tight I could feel the cage on Mistress Cecilia’s cock; the tight ring that encircled my balls, the cage heavy and fully encompassing. I could feel my cock tingling behind the clear plastic and the burning, aching need that kept my body tense and my pulse racing. The feeling of my need and the strong grip of the clear cage made me feel submissive. It is an amazing, titillating, wonderful feeling.

I was lying there in the dark, my breathing slow and I could feel my pulse in my cock. There was a slight itchy, tingling on my balls as if tiny fingers were playing over them. I felt cold as I rested under the comforter that covered my body clad only in the unrelenting chastity cage and a pair of bikini panties which held the cage pressed firmly against my pubic bone.

Feeling all this I could feel Mistress Cecilia there with me. It was her hand encircling me, her will controlling me and there in the dark I felt her wholly and fully. I could feel her control over me and with it I could feel my submission to her. It is glorious. With it I can feel her acceptance of me for the submissive man that I am; how can that not be liberating?

So, as I drifted off to sleep I did what I have done for every night since I have donned the cage. With chills racing down my arms and feeling owned and whole, I whispered good night to my delightful, beautiful and intelligent owner.

And I felt whole.

With chills.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Prelude to Hypnosis

Good morning!

I have read all of Mistress Cecilia’s blog and information pages and after doing so I got the idea in my head (a scary place to be sure) to do a hypnosis call with her.

There were a lot of things I read that sounded appealing and fun and scary. The idea of letting Mistress Cecilia climb into my head where even I am sometimes afraid to visit sounded like the ultimate form of Relinquishing Control; to lay open all that is me to my owner without boundaries or fear sounds so appealing that I couldn’t shake the thought. Can you imagine it? To be that open and revealed; to fling wide the last door of myself and really give unedited and unfiltered control, how could I pass that up?

I have to say, the thought frightens me while simultaneously being so captivating that I have been unable to shake the idea. It took about three weeks of ponderings before I was finally able to broach the subject and request the call.

While speaking to Mistress Cecilia she asked me to think about what I wanted to gain from the session and I have spent countless hours doing so and this post is about those thoughts. During our conversation Mistress Cecilia said something that made me smile so broadly that I was still savoring her words and smiling the next day. She said, while explaining what others seek in their hypnosis calls, that I did not need to be trained to be more submissive as others have requested, that I was already submissive enough. I was swelling with pride at her words; I am new to serving, I just know I need to do so, and to hear those words I was giddy with happiness. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia. So, what did I hope to gain from a hypnosis session?

Countless possibilities opened up to me. If you go to www.cockcontrol.com and read the bio page for the amazing Mistress Cecilia she writes:

“I can program your brain to not cum as frequently as you are used to, and only releasing when you hear My command to do so.”

Well, that lead to the first line of questioning. I wear a chastity belt; there is not a day that goes by that there is not a lock on my owners cock and the only time I do come is when I hear her command to do so. But, what if there could be chastity training where a cage is not needed; how sexy and delightfully evil could that be? Or, what if my daily horniness could be added too, again, a fun, evil thought.

She continues: “I can change your impulses. However, beware! At the moment, I am training in hypnotism, and I am working on the notion of the only way you will cum is when you hear My command in My voice. Even if you try to cum on your own, you will not be able to.”

Wow, that sounds like fun. The chastity cage, however serves the same purpose and I enjoy the feeling of the plastic as it encases my cock and the ring as it encircles my balls. I love waking in the morning and feeling my owner and I love ending my day with a gentle “good night” feeling Mistress Cecilia’s firm grip on her cock. The physical chastity has the advantage of allowing me to feel Mistress Cecilia’s control with every waking moment and I do not want to lose that to mental chastity. It is an interesting thought, however and just thinking about it has made me swell against the hard, plastic cage.

So, there is fun to be had, but is that what I really need?

No.

I have insecurities about a lot of things. I don’t think very highly of myself and I often second guess my actions. I am not sure if I have explained fully the depth of my insecurities in these posts but I have pierced the surface enough so that I should be at least partially understood. So, maybe I should have the session so that I do not feel as insecure about myself.

And that was it, the idea was formulated.

Where do my insecurities come from? Confidence. I think that is what I lack the most. Why am I second guessing myself with each random thought? I don’t have the confidence of my convictions or the self-assuredness to believe that my actions are right. I lack confidence.

So, I think the best course of action, while not the kinkiest (there is always time for that) would be to let Mistress Cecilia into my head and with her help allow me to bolster my confidence. Let me be confident that I am the best submissive I can be; let me be confident that I am not screwing up every conversation that I have. Yes, I have written about my fear when dialing the phone. I do not wish to lose any part of my submissive self that I have finally allowed into the light of day and that Mistress Cecilia in her guidance and ownership has made flourish, I want to cultivate that with confidence.

Confidence.

It’s what I lack.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

4 Days

Good morning!

Yesterday was a good day! Then again, any day that I am lucky enough to speak with Mistress Cecilia is a good day. I know that I am repeating myself, but if you have been reading this blog and have not had both the joy and the privilege of speaking with my beautiful owner than you are doing yourself a disservice. Get off your ass and pick up the phone. I now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.

I picked up the phone and dialed Mistress Cecilia. My hands were just slightly shaking but I don’t think there was any nervousness in my voice. There may have been. I knew this call was coming so I had prepared, it is the Boy Scout motto and as I have stated I wore my panties to the Boy Scout meeting of decades past. Next to the bed I had the lube and my plugs and my nylons and my Fleshlight and my new vibrator and vibrating egg. I did not know what deliciously wicked plans my owner had, so I pulled everything aside before the call.

It had been four full days since I had removed the chastity device; ninety-six hours. I mention the time as it was another record for me. I mentioned the record to Mistress Cecilia and her response was a sweet “I know.” And she did know, she is a remarkable woman and she takes care of her submissives. I consider myself honored to be owned by her. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

As instructed I slipped in the Aneros plug and snapped my leather cock ring in place. The cock ring is affixed by Velcro and slips on in seconds and the Aneros plug, while pleasurable, slips in with ease. Plugged, hard and lubed with olive oil I was ready to stoke the fire of my denial.

I began, as Mistress Cecilia directed, to just stroke normally. And I did. I pumped my erection, up and down my hand slipping along my well-oiled cock. It has been nearly two weeks since I have last come and took no time for me to reach the precipice of completion, the edge of pleasure. I stroked and as I grew close, where the edge threatened to be breached, I begged.

And was told to stop.

Mistress Cecilia mixed up my session; we ran through all the stroking exercises that she had taught me and I edged with all of them. On my knees, fucking my hands, clenching the Aneros with each inward thrust; I edged. On my back, milking my cock with alternating upward strokes with both hands; I edged. On my stomach, my hand folded backwards, thrusting my hips forward and fucking my oily hand; I edged. On my back rubbing my balls with one hand and stroking with the other; I edged.

Using the Fleshlight, I edged. I have to say that I find each time I use the Fleshlight is better than the time before. The grip is more secure and more uniform that yesterday, throbbing with need, it took less than twenty strokes, the plug in my ass feeding my fire and the firm caress of the fake pussy gripping my shaft for me to reach that delicious edge.

Mistress Cecilia makes me feel alive as I edge for her; riding the brink of pleasure. It is interesting to be riding the ridge between coming and aching; that feeling of need pressing outward with such force that your toes clench and your forehead beads sweat. Tingling all over, feeling ants crawl under your skin and having to fight, to tighten up with your hands balled into fists to hold back the pleasure that belongs to Mistress Cecilia. I love that feeling.

After one edge I begged to come, my voice nothing more than a whimper.

“You whimpered,” she said to me.

“Sorry.” But there wasn’t anything to be sorry about. I wasn’t thinking, my words came unhindered by thought, I was lost in the moment, feeling my body sweating and my balls tingling and an itch deep inside my turgid cock. I could almost see the semen that had been so close to flying free slowly slipping back down the shaft. I don’t think that is accurate but I could picture it; so close had I ridden the edge that my imagination had to be laced with truth.

Mistress Cecilia had worked me into a boiling lather, had fueled my lust. I was aching to come and that need was denied me. It is an odd fetish, to enjoy denial, but it is the loss of control that makes it so powerful. I was twelve or thirteen the first day I masturbated and had done so almost daily since turning my pleasure over to my owner. Relinquishing that control makes me whole.

Between edgings I was told to caress the head of my cock. I mentioned in an earlier blog post that I used to wet the bed. Different, useless treatments were tried from humiliation to pills until, finally, surgery. The end of my cock is split and opens into a wide V. The apex of that V is very sensitive and that is where Mistress Cecilia had me stroke and tease. I can rub it and feel amazing pleasure but without stroking myself it is not enough to make me come, but I know just the spot and as directed I rubbed it, tightening against the plug filling my ass.

Finally, after being driving to the brink eleven delicious times, teasing myself as my beautiful owner directed, I was instructed to lock it back up. I climbed to my feet and pulled the components of the chastity cage from the sink. Once, after fueling the fire of my desperation during an assignment I made my way into the bathroom to relock Mistress Cecilia’s cock and without thinking, I drained the water before pulling the pieces from the suds. The small, clear spacer disappeared down the drain. So, there I was, sitting naked on the bathroom floor taking the drain apart to retrieve the missing piece of the CB-6000. That day, I was soft and relocking the chastity cage was easy. Today, however, I had to coat my cock with a cold compress twice before I was able to finally slip the cage over my cock and click the lock shut.

I snapped the picture and sent it away. I had been locked non-stop for four days and only unlocked long enough, with Mistress Cecilia listening, to drive my need higher and my desperation greater before locking my cock away again. No, it’s not mine, I have given myself to Mistress Cecilia and thankfully she has taken me as hers.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

89

Good morning!

Another Record.

As I was sending the picture of the small plastic lock that holds Mistress Cecilia’s property securely locked in place I realized that I had that number memorized. I did not have to look as I typed the email message as to what the number read. Wednesday afternoon this lock snapped shut and here it is Sunday morning and that lock still sits snugly in place.

At the time of this post it will have been eighty-nine hours and counting since this lock has clicked shut.

There is an old saying, “be careful what you wish for.” Well, I wished to be owned by a beautiful, dominant woman, hell, I needed to be owned, and I did get what I wished for and I have no regrets. I could not be happier with Mistress Cecilia’s ownership of me. I go to sleep at night and wake each day feeling her presence and with it I feel more whole somehow. When I began this I knew I was missing something; that some part of my personae had been denied the light of day and now that I have released the submissive nature in my soul I feel alive and more complete and even more confident.

I am not a confident person. Friday evening I ventured into a strip club, a lone man wearing a chastity cage. I had thought that I would be the only solo patron, but that was not the case. I have seen countless movies (haven’t we all?) where there is a scene in a strip club, I think those scenes are just for the gratuitous nudity. And, in all those movies there are scary looking, drunk, salivating lechers sitting at the stage and I did not want to be seen as one of them. The club was clean and except for the smell of cigarette smoke there was no foul odor in the air. However, they are not places that I ever consider going.

Mistress Cecilia held my hand as I opened the door. She was not physically with me but she was there, in my head, spurring me on, guiding me. I knew I would disappoint her if I did not open the door and breach the threshold. Her presence, with me, made that assignment feasible. I could feel her ownership of me and that made it possible to cross into the loud building and venture into yet another new experience for me. And it was Mistress Cecilia that was teasing me as I sat on the couch with the young woman gyrating between my legs and rubbing her small hands on my thighs.

Mistress Cecilia, being with me, gave me the confidence to open that door and step inside.

Mistress Cecilia has helped me grow. I had been scared to reach beyond my comfort zone and yet, I did. A new experience, less scary than my imagination had pictured, had been opened up for me and I succeeded.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Comfort Zone

Hello, again. Greetings one and all. And hello, my wonderful owner.

I begin this post with yet another milestone in my chastity training with Mistress Cecilia. On the first of October I had set a record of fifty-four consecutive hours locked inside the hard cage. At the time of this post I have topped that record and am sitting at sixty six hours and I have no idea when I will remove the cage and when I do take the cage off, will I be allowed to come or will it be to further tease and fuel my lust? Only Mistress Cecilia knows that answer and I find that so exciting and amazing that I wouldn’t have it any other way. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Yesterday I received an assignment from Mistress Cecilia, and with that assignment I had to option of taking an alternative assignment, a punishment as she called it. I never want to have to take a punishment from Mistress Cecilia; the thought of her having to punish me does not appeal to me. My owner had tasked me to visit a strip club while locked behind the unyielding cage of the chastity device. I had not been to a strip club in nearly fifteen years, not since I was doing some work for a different company in the Fort Lauderdale area of Florida. And, I have never been to one by myself as I would be doing with this assignment.

Needless to say, the last time I had been I was not locked inside a chastity cage either.

I would definitely be outside my comfort zone.

Well, upon reading this assignment, my heart began to race and my hands began to tremble. The assignment made me nervous. My first thoughts were unclear and addled, was this an easy task or difficult and could I really do it? There is fear in the unknown, I am sure I have mentioned that.

Well, this led me to the first of many thoughts. Did I really want to do this? I can’t say that I did and I pondered briefly taking the punishment instead. Wouldn’t an extra week of denial and one hundred swats on my naked and upturned ass be simpler even though I was totally unaware of when I will be allowed to come again? Maybe.

But Mistress Cecilia’s assignment said two additional things that made the decision for me; that took the guesswork and ponderings off the table. First, she said that if I were with her in person that she would tease me the same way. Secondly, she said she really wanted me to consider doing this assignment. And that was all it took; I would go to the strip club and serve my beautiful owner and have a dancer tease me and make my cock throb inside the chastity cage. But, in my mind, I knew who would be doing the dancing, the teasing, and the tormenting. I knew who I’d be serving.

Even after I had made my decision my mind continued to spin and race.

Anything.

That is what came to mind. I have read, we all have I am sure, how some slaves say they will do “anything” for their owners. I do not fall into that totalitarian camp. Anything is a mighty strong and open-ended word. You’d do anything? Well, then, cut your penis off? Okay, that may be a tad extreme, but does it not fall in the bailiwick of anything? Cash in your 401-K and send it all to me. Again, extreme, but I think I am illustrating a point. Anything is throwing paint on a canvas with too broad a brush, with too vague a color. If the Mona Lisa had been painted with the anything brush her beautiful and often commented upon smile would be nothing more than a hash of color that blended in with her cheeks and chin.

I think anything could be more readily defined as anything within reason where the slave is the one to decide what is reasonable. The great thing about submissive / dominant relationships is that the sub will do just about anything because the dominant would not be so careless and cruel to put her sub in any form of danger or distress. Sure, she may push his limits, should push his limits; that will help him grow. She would not have them sever an extremity and so they would not have to make the decision to disobey. Within reason sounds more feasible than anything.

So, why did I have that thought? Well, it’s simple really. Even though I was being thrust outside of my comfort zone, it was not an unreasonable assignment. I have stated that I am not into pain but if Mistress Cecilia wants to beat me, well then, go ahead. Submission is easy when it’s the slave’s kink, but isn’t the submission truer if the sub is obeying the dominant with what she wants assuming it is not unreasonable? I hope I am explaining myself clearly here; I feel a little bit insecure typing these words.

So, I was going to go to the strip club. I went online to look up some etiquette before I went. I had not been in such a long time and never alone that I was not sure what to fully expect. There are a few things I learned. When you tip the dancers onstage, use fives and not singles. Shave before you go; I can do that. Wear slacks and not jeans; denim is uncomfortable against the dancer’s skin. Before doing my research I would have shown up with a stack of singles, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and as I had not shaved this morning I would have had a 5 o’clock the day before shadow. Well, knowledge is power and I now had some knowledge.

So, I went to the bank, went inside and took out a hundred dollars, all in fives and a few tens, too. The research said to be a “high roller” and, well, who am I to say that the information was flawed? The most important piece of advice I read was this: It’s called a “gentleman’s club.” So, be a gentleman and not a groping, loud-mouthed jerk.

I got back from the bank and shaved my face, took a shower, ironed a shirt. It felt like I was getting ready for a date; and I supposed I was. I donned two pairs of panties, a black thong and my pair of hunter green briefs. I did not want to have the sharp edges of the plastic key or the knobby points of the chastity cage able to be felt by the dancer as she teased me and the extra layer helped to ensure that.
As the sun began to set I left the house for the club. Armed with knowledge and a stack of fives and tens I was ready to face my assignment.

It is exactly 5.6 miles to the club from my house. It isn’t as if I clocked it, but as I made the drive south I was nervous. I could feel my pulse in my throat. My mouth was so dry that in that short distance I finished a 22 ounce cup of Diet Sprite. I held my hand out and could see it tremble. Why was I so nervous? Well, my comfort zone was so far distant that the horizon swallowed it whole. And it was the anticipation of the trip and what would happen inside.

Anticipation is an interesting thing and that brings me to yet another foray into my childhood. One time, living in Connecticut I got in trouble. I don’t recall what it was that I had done, but knowing me, it was a whopper. I got home and my father sent me to his room with only one command, “to pick the belt he was going to spank me with and to wait there for him.” So, I went to his room and sorted through is dozen belts trying to decide which would hurt the least. I trailed my hand over all of them; the thin one would sting but would it hurt more than the one with holes laced with gold rivets? The thick, wide belt, would that hurt more or less than the studded one? It was a horrible decision to have to make. Ultimately, I chose one and sat on my parent’s bed for an hour waiting for it to be used on me. And when my father came up he said my punishment was done. The torture I had put myself thorough with my imagination was far worse than any strapping I could have received.
Anticipation. To this day I remember this punishment and it’s been more than twenty-five years.

So I parked the car and looked at the building that sat 5.6 miles from my home. It was long, painted yellow with red trip. A neon sign flashed “casting call” on the face of the building. Two red double doors with brass handles led into the building. As I walked up, still shaking nervously I could hear the music sounding from within. With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.

Loud music assailed my ears and the smell of cigarette smoke assaulted my nostrils. A very busty young woman wearing a white bra and a T-shirt ripped half way down her cleavage stood behind a register. She charged me the entrance fee and I paid it and tipped her. Let the tipping begin. As I had researched, tipping everybody was a good way to be given preferential treatment.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a Diet Coke. I tipped the bartender. I took in the club while standing tensely at the bar. Loud music blared from too many speakers. The ceiling was painted black and the lighting was so subdued that it was hard to see the mirrors that lined three of the four walls. The back corner contained a glass booth where the DJ sat streaming the impossibly loud music through the club. Strings of light ran in the ceiling towards the stage from the front door and it reminded me of runway lights. A very well endowed woman mingled selling drinks; she was spilling from her tiny top.

I drank down half my beverage and then copied another patron and made my way down to the stage. I had the roll of fives in my shirt pocket; another tip said it was tacky to pull out your wallet in the club. My research had been fruitful.

The dancer, a tall blond with short hair left the stage and another tall woman took her place. She had black hair and a very pretty smile. She danced to very loud music, swinging from the pole and spending time in front of each of the three men that sat at the stage. The first time she danced in front of me, on her hands and knees, facing up, thrusting her crotch in my face I noticed that she and I had something in common; we were both wearing two pairs of panties. Mine were black and green, she was wearing a neon yellow g-string under a black g-string. She danced in front of me and then held the elastic band of her panties out and I, dutifully, slipped in a five dollar bill. I could see the singles she had garnered from the other patrons. When she noticed my tip she whispered, “I’ll be back.” Score another point for my pre-trip studies.

The woman danced for two more songs, stripping off her top after the first so that she was naked save for her panties for the last two songs. During her second song and after I had slipped the second five into her tiny panties she danced in front of me and grabbed my shirt pocket. She pulled me to her and nibbled my left ear. I shifted behind my taut cage. She rubbed her breasts in my face and licked my ear again.

During each song I tipped her five dollars and without a doubt she spent more time taunting me than anyone else. And I could feel it; the cage trapping Mistress Cecilia’s cock was noticeable and tight.

Between the second and third song a woman with curly hair walked behind my chair and caressed my neck. I shivered at the soft touch and felt my cock pulse.

As the second dancer left the stage I could see her look my way as she spoke to the next stripper. It appeared that once again I was going to be rewarded for my studies. The new dancer took the stage. She had black, spiked hair. She was wearing a red see-through dress that ended at mid-thigh. She began dancing, starting in front of me. I felt special. She spun and pirouetted and then grabbed the stripper pole and foisted herself upside down. It was then that I noticed the white streaks in the ceiling tiles above the stripper pole and I could see how they’d be made. Hanging upside down with impossibly high platform shoes, their feet would strike the ceiling. It was the shoes that made the dances appear so tall; all of them had at least three inches of plastic from the toes to the floor.

This dancers second song began and the woman with curly hair walked behind my chair again and said “so handsome.” Now, I know they are selling a fantasy, but the unprovoked compliment felt nice especially as the entire time I was there this woman never took the stage or danced a private dance.

The third song began and for the second time the dancer on stage pulled me two her and chewed my ear. She had no idea the effect she was having on my libido; how she was stoking the fire of my horniness. She had no reason to know but she was doing an amazing job of teasing me.

The dancer left the stage and a new dancer took her place. I can’t tell you their names, I heard names like Candi and Ginger and Danni and other names that strippers use so that they can protect their anonymity. They were all young and attractive but this newest dancer, when she took the stage was smiling and had the prettiest neck I had seen. I have a thing for necks, I'm sure I've mentioned it. She started her dancing and as with the other two I had tipped on stage, having missed the first dancers set, I tipped her five dollar bills and she spent extra time in front of me.

As she danced, she smiled and it looked sexy as hell. She had a bruise on her right thigh and seeing it I could picture her as a real woman, more human and less like an object to simply be viewed and ogled. She had long, straight brown hair that ended just below her shoulders. She danced, I tipped. The second time I tipped her, sliding the bill along her smooth thigh, she caressed the back of my hand and I tingled. She ended her third dance standing in front of me bouncing her ass in my face.

As she left the stage I made my way to the bar; I had finished my soda and was in need of another one. My mouth was arid. I spoke to the bartender who gave me a complimentary beverage, thanking me for the tip I had left for him earlier.

I stood at the bar, sipping my drink as the woman that had just left the stage went from table to table thanking the patrons; she was the first dancer I had seen do that. She knew how to work a crowd; and she smiled. The DJ had let us know with each dancer that they were available for private dances and that was the main part of this assignment; I needed to be teased some more. She came up to me and I requested a private dance.

She took my hand and pulled me behind her; and I followed, submitted if you will.
She led me to a raised alcove off the main floor and had me sit on a comfortable black leather couch. I fell into the cushion and she sat next to me adjusting the clear plastic shoes on her feet. They looked uncomfortable but as I have two pairs of locking heels that I can walk quite well in, thank you very much, who was I to say? She waited until the current set of three songs ended and then began my set of private dancing.

She pushed my thighs apart and began dancing by stripping off her short blue dress leaving her in just a pair of black panties. This young woman with the fresh smile and lovely breast with pert little nipples ran her hands along my thighs and along my arms. I was sitting on my hands, touching was not allowed; this was one way communication. She ran her hair over my arms and rubbed her breasts in my face and as the three songs played I throbbed inside my cage. Mistress Cecilia was in the strip club with me.

She raised her breasts with her hands and caressed my nose with her nipples, and I pulsed.

I could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume as she teased me with her soft body; it was a delightful scent. She spun around and rested her head on my left shoulder and I could see along the taut crease of her sexy neck and down along the swell of her breasts, I could smell her perfume and I could feel the heat of her body through my thin shirt, and I ached.

She rubbed her ass in my crotch and I was thankful to be wearing soft slacks instead of rough jeans, yet another fruitful tip from the internet. And during this I throbbed.

As the songs ended, and I had not been consciously aware of the music as my lap dances progressed, she sat next to me again and pulled her dress up her long legs. I tipped her and she thanked me.

My assignment was complete; I had received a lap dance from a pretty young woman and had her fuel the fire that was my need. And, most importantly I had obeyed. My mouth was still dry and I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest, but now, my pulse was racing with need and not fear. The anticipation had been replaced by horny desperation.

I made my way from the club and drove the 5.6 miles home in the dark, my headlights piercing the night. I was no longer nervous; I was simply horny. I took a shower to wash away the smell of the cigarettes and to cool my heated flesh.

Once again I had obeyed my beautiful owner; I had stepped far from my comfort zone and had returned a little wiser and with yet one more experience under my belt. And for that, I can only thank her.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Insecurities

Hello, again.

I suppose it’s time to face my own fear; time to stare down the maw of my insecurities. It has taken more than a month to get to the point where this post can see the light of day, to flee the darkness if you will and step forth and be recognized. I have hinted at it often enough, so even I knew it was inevitable. It’s funny; the reason for that fear is the title of this entry… insecurities. My insecurities make it so that I second guess each word even as I type it. Maybe, just maybe, I can get you to understand as these words continue along, leaving the tunnel of darkness to be revealed as best I can.

I have written about how speaking with Mistress Cecilia has made my voice ring with nervousness and my stomach tumble about as if I were riding a roller coaster. Don’t get me wrong, I love roller coasters and that topsy-turvy feeling is both exhilarating and wonderful but it is scary. And where does that fear come from? You guessed it, my insecurities.

As these self-study posts often seem to make me do, I must venture back into decades past. To venture into my childhood where our adult selves are formed and reveal a bit more about who I am. To me each day is like a stone added to the building that ultimately becomes our life. Will we grow and become a skyscraper, standing proud and strong and able to withstand any onslaught or will we become a small hovel that is easily blown away in any small squall? Only our experiences can answer that question. And, which am I?

Insecurities.

I think I was fourteen when I had my first slow dance. I can’t remember the song that was playing or even if there was any music playing. What I do remember was being in a friend’s basement with about six or seven other young teens and we were experimenting with kissing and groping as teens have been doing since time began. And there was dancing. I remember swaying with a young lady in my arms as we made ungraceful circles. Teens are lanky and clumsy and we were no exception.
I can’t remember how I felt or if I even liked it. What I can remember is the next day; clearly, vividly.

My sisters mocked me. Teased me. I have never handled that well. Looking back, so what? But at the time as a young teen where I was basically raising my younger sisters I cared what they thought even if they were more immature due to their age than I was and if they were mocking me, then I had to have been doing something wrong and so that fed my insecurities around people. That is a very weak stone in the foundation that is me. The mocking made me think that my actions were wrong.
Why are there so many embarrassing stories from my youth?

I have never had a sense for fashion. I wear Ralph Lauren shirts almost exclusively. Why? Because I think they are stylish. I can’t say if they are, just that I think they are. What does that have to do with anything? Well, let me introduce myself. Hi, my name is Relinquished and I invented Capri pants. Did that give you a laugh? Sadly, that was me as a teen.

For me, what it meant was this. Growing up my pants were always and I doubt there is any exception to this rule, too short. It went, shoes, socks, gap that lead to mocking and ridicule and finally the hem to my ridiculously short pants. Why was I oblivious to this fact? Who knows? Why was the fact that my pants were always too short kept a secret from me? Again, I can’t say. I figure that it was so that the people around me had a reason to make fun of me, to mock me to laugh at me. It happened day after day for countless things. It leads to insecurities; I was wrong in what I wore. I was wrong.

I became a turtle. I clammed up, stayed hidden inside the shell that was myself. I gained insecurities.

I do not handle confrontation well. I learned long ago to keep my mouth shut, to protect myself from ridicule by staying silent. I carried the fear of speaking into my marriage and ultimately I was divorced. In marriage, much like the courtroom, anything you say can and will be used against you.

I don’t like to argue, fight or differ. I will always go along with the crowd, to do what I can to not stand out. In boot camp, I did flourish; fitting in and capitulating was what it was about. Everybody was equal and not being noticed was a good thing. There is safety in uniformity.

So, I don’t handle confrontations and whenever there was a disagreement in my life I was the one that habitually gave in and capitulated.

I don’t handle confrontation well, I don’t handle rejection well, I don’t handle mocking or ridicule. And it all began as the small, building blocks of my past. Have you ever had an argument and a year later have your words thrown back at you totally out of context that it leaves you speechless in confusion and incomprehension? I have. So I have this fear of speaking, and saying the wrong thing which leads to worry.

Remember from an earlier post how I wet the bed until I was seven and the humiliations that I had to endure because of that? Imagine the damage that causes to a young psyche; how even at that young age I would try and hideaway inside myself. I am not into humiliation because of how I grew up though, for some reason I find the thought of humiliation exciting. It’s an odd dichotomy.

So my mind has associated the things I do as being wrong. I was wrong a lot. Wrong to dance; wrong to wet the bed; wrong to argue; even wrong in what I wore, how I dressed. It added up to my insecurities.

Where does that leave me? I worry about things, almost to the point of excess. There are times I can’t sleep as I can’t turn my head off thinking of how my day had been and how I had been wrong. Even if I had made no mistakes, I can picture errors that were not there. Insecurities.

There have been blog posts where I reveal that I am horny. Well, doesn’t it figure that I would be horny? That the teasing that I do under Mistress Cecilia’s delightful tutelage would in fact leave me feeling desperate and needy? Of course. But, here’s how my insecurities manifest; I have had to debate if I should even reveal how I felt. If I post that I am horny, well, could that not be construed as complaining? And, if I am complaining could that not lead to confrontation? And, isn’t complaining wrong? There have been times when I have wanted to whisper “Good Night” to Mistress Cecilia via instant message and have literally spent twenty or more minutes debating if I should.

Nowhere have I said that my insecurities make sense; that they are rational. It’s just how I’m been wired with the experiences of my youth.

Ultimately, honest prevails. Every post I have made and will make, no matter how trivial or humbling the words may be will be truthful. I can live my life no other way.

I am not a confident man with maybe the exception of my job; I am good at what I do. I’ve aged and grown and am less doubting of myself than I had been in my youth, but a lifetime of being a turtle still makes one a turtle, does it not?

I will close this post with this thought. I’m trying.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Butterflies

Hello, again!

Yesterday afternoon I received an assignment from the captivating Mistress Cecilia and upon reading it, well, the butterflies returned. It wasn’t yesterday’s assignment, which this post is about, that made me nervous and the pit of my stomach feel like I had just been jettisoned off of an Aircraft Carrier’s catapult at mach 2; it was the promise of things to come and how I’d be given the choice of declining the upcoming assignment or not. Of course, if I do opt out of the assignment, well, there are always consequences to ones actions, n’est-ce pas?

I am nervous with anticipation and that assignment is still forthcoming.

Yesterday’s assignment was both relaxing and tension building. The tension, of course, was in my full and needy balls and it was a need that I was to be driving further.

Naked, I filled the sink with water as I always do and watched as the white suds piled above the spigot. Ever since I was a kid I have been fascinated with bubbles and occasionally, to this day as the decades march past I still purchase bubbles to blow with the small ridged ring just so I can watch my cats chase them. I think there is a child in everybody that needs to be freed once in a while.

Snip, off came the lock and into the sink went the CB-6000. I grabbed the olive oil, the Fleshlight and my razor. It had been about five days since I had trimmed the tiny, sprouting hairs and the itching had been distracting. I grabbed a new, fluffy towel, large and yellow and hung it by the shower. I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. With everything ready I stepped into the tub.

The hot water rained down on me. I held my head under the stream and felt the day run down the drain. I take three and sometimes four showers a day, one before work and one when I get home and usually another before bed. I have found that the hot water helps my testicles relax and descend and I sometimes bathe just to adjust the chastity cage for comfort or cleanliness. And, I hate to admit it, I have showered just to pee and the tub is a clean, tidy place to do that. I know, it’s gross, but what can I say?

The water washed the day away and I pulled out the shaving cream and razor and proceeded to scrape away the stubble that caused my skin to itch until I was once again shaved clean. I find shaving my crotch to be kinky and deviant and so easily hidden that I find I like it and I like the look. An added bonus of my training with Mistress Cecilia, one of many.

Standing under the water I stroked myself to full rigidity and picked up the Fleshlight. I poured some olive oil into the opening of the pink faux pussy and watched as the pool of oil drained into the soft sleeved. Twice more I filled the bowl formed by the formed pussy lips and watched the oil disappear into the Fleshlight. Satisfied I slipped the Fleshlight onto my turgid cock.

I have to be honest and with that I have to say that the Fleshlight is becoming my new favorite toy. The grip of the fake sleeve is so taut and encompassing that I find that it is a more pleasurable sensation to masturbate with the Fleshlight as compared to my own hand. It is amazing what Mistress Cecilia has taught me, what I have learned and experienced thanks to my beautiful owner. Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Standing under the water, stroking my cock with the Fleshlight I fueled my lust and brought myself to that glorious edge of completion. I wanted to continue but could not; I would not be coming today. I pulled the soft sleeve from my cock and waited, with the hot water raining down on my body.

With the immediate need past I once again slipped my cock into that warm, wet sex and fucked myself, pulling the Fleshlight off my shaft and driving it back down again. Off and on, up and down I stroked until once again I reached that tense edge and as before I pulled the Fleshlight off my cock and waited with my dick pulsing and the water flowing for that second edge to recede.

For a third time I fucked that fake pussy. For the third time I stroked and teased myself until once again I reached that delicious, needy edge. I stood under the hot water and waited for the edge to dwindle.

I set the Fleshlight down and grabbed the bar of soap and ran it over and over in my hands forming a full lather. I coated my cock with the slick suds and began to stroke myself again. My cock was slick with the olive oil and the soap served as a very slippery lube. I stroked and rubbed my cock and once again I brought myself to that tense precipice of completion.

I stood under the shower water, hot steam caressing my skin and waited for the edge to fade.
I grabbed the soap again and worked up another dual handful of lather. Using my sudsy hand I grabbed my cock and stroked myself to the edge of fruition. I was needy and tense and horny and with my cock bobbing with my pulse and heated lust I rinsed my body, turned off the water and stepped from the tub.

I dried myself off with a huge, yellow towel. I have lots of towels, nearly twenty of them. There’s nothing sexual in them, I just like towels. I dried my body and used the same towel to clean the chastity device one small piece at a time. Standing in the bathroom, longing to come and tingling with need, I donned the chastity device. As always, I get a submissive thrill when the lock clicks shut. That audible snap makes me feel owned and it is an amazing feeling.

I made my way into the living room and snapped a picture; photographic evidence of the lock in place. I sent the picture to my owner.

I felt needy and alive and owned.

With butterflies.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Flashback

Good morning boys and girls.

I spend a lot of time in the car; a good part of my job entails travel and as such I have a lot of time to think, recollect and ponder myself, my life and my submissive tendencies. I spend a lot of time bouncing around in my head. You’d think with all the time that I spend inside my mind that my thoughts would be a little more organized and these posts a little less confusing. But, such is the nature of my ponderings that when I do set out to put them on page, my mind is still spinning and tripping over itself and so sometimes my thoughts may not be perfectly clear.

And it’s been this way my whole life.

Two things happened yesterday that seem to coincide with each other and the training that Mistress Cecilia has graced me with. I was at a customer site when I watched one man make a woman cry. His words were not overly harsh and at first I was not sure why the woman began to tear up and flee the room. But, I got to thinking and I realized it was not the man’s tone or even his words; they were not harsh but they were cruel. I watched, observed if you will, as he jokingly mocked the woman and it was the combination of his words and the way he said them that made her cry.

Until the day that Mistress Cecilia sent me into the mall to observe women, to study them and their actions, I think I would have walked away saying to myself that I would never understand women. But, thanks to my training, and that assignment to visit the mall in particular, I was able to see past myself and my standard male misconceptions and was aware of not what the man said but how he said it.

I observed and I understood.

I think since that day I have slowed down a bit, been a tad less hasty. I have always been one to do everything I could to the best of my ability, now, I seem to savor the small victories that life has to offer and that seem to appear on a daily basis. Instead of looking for the negative, I see that anything that could be construed as a hardship is actually just life and anything positive is a bonus. See how good things can be if you are observant and objective?

Driving home last night I was watching the drivers in the car around me; noticing their actions. And, wouldn’t you know it; the women would still play with their hair even in the privacy of their vehicles with nobody around to notice. I think it may be instinctual. Even alone the primping continues. My observations, even with that assignment behind me, has seemingly continued. It’s funny what you take with you long after you think something has dwindled to memory.

So, thank you Mistress Cecilia. My outlook on everything seems to have improved and with it my face is graced now with a smile more than a frown. Even when I was speaking with an assistant at the office yesterday it was mentioned in the conversation that I was in a good mood. Was I? I don’t think so. I was just being my newly positive self.

And, when I last spoke with Mistress Cecilia I was less nervous than normal? Why do you suppose that was? Maybe, just maybe, I’m more positive now. Does she still give me butterflies? Yes. But, you know what; butterflies are beautiful insects and nothing to be frightened of.

Thus are my musings.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Sensations

Good afternoon!

Yesterday evening I was graced with speaking to Mistress Cecilia on the phone. I know I have said it before, but there is something magical in speaking with her, something that makes the difficulties of life fade to transparency until only brightness remain. I have said it before, and will again, if you have not had taken the opportunity to speak with her, then you are doing yourself a disservice.

I dialed the phone and was greeted by her soft, melodious voice. We spoke briefly, before she took charge, her voice never hardens, it doesn’t need to, but the control she exerts is palpable and I revel in it.

We began our calls as we always do; I removed my chastity device. The cage fell into the sink, splashing sudsy water onto the counter. With my cock free, I began to grow hard.

I made my way into the bedroom and while lying on the bed I first lubed and then slowly inserted the inflatable and vibrating butt plug I own. I gasped as I slowly eased the obtrusive plug in and pulled it out, in and out I fucked myself with the black plug, gasping as I went. This plug is much larger than the Aneros and it takes a bit of time before I am able to seat it fully. I moaned as the thickest part slipped into my ass and I could feel the intrusion; it begins with a small amount of pain that slowly eases to a feeling of complete fullness.

I was plugged.

Lying on the bed, my pulse pounding in my cock I grabbed the Fleshlight as I was directed and filled the opening, which looked like a pussy, with oil. I slipped my cock into the tight hole, the oil raining down over my heated flesh in a pool, and while Mistress Cecilia listened, spurring my actions with her words, I fucked the fake pussy, driving my need higher until I reached the edge. I stopped as directed, listening as Mistress Cecilia told me “no.”

I find it arousing to deny myself for my owner; to tease myself, to edge myself as she directs, never knowing if this time, surely this time, she will allow me to come. I stroke and tease myself, driving myself to distraction and desperation and each time I wonder if this will be the time. There is pleasure in delayed gratification. There is joy in edging. I know it sounds weird, but to me it is right.

I was instructed to don my new cock ring. It’s made of leather and has a Velcro attachment. I wrapped the supple material around my heavy balls and turgid shaft and fastened it as tight as I could. I could see the head of my dick and its taut skin and could feel my pulse around the firm grip.

The butt plug vibrates and I was commanded to set it to medium speed. It is controlled by a rheostat and while it should be variable I find it really only has two speeds, medium and high. I rotated the thumb wheel half way, feeling the plug in my ass begin to dance inside me. I groaned and tensed against the firm, filling plug.

I twisted my cock as Mistress Cecilia directed and when she had me massage the tip, the split at the end I let her know how good that felt. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity that delicious and she instructed me to pay attention to that tingling spot. I stroked my cock with my right hand and using the flat of my left hand I stroked the split where I felt a delightful tingle until I reached the edge. I begged to come and was denied; now was not the time.

I want you to try something for me. Use the tip of your tongue and tickle the roof of your mouth. It’s okay, nobody is watching. Rub the roof of your mouth lightly with the tip of your tongue, find that spot that makes your body tingle and when you hit the area you know that you couldn’t keep rubbing that spot, that you’d have to stop. That tingling, tickling sensation is how the tip of my cock felt with the semen boiling but unreleased and the tip sensitive.

And that spot is where, with two edges behind me, Mistress Cecilia bade me to keep stroking. Using only one finger and my thumb I held the head of my cock and tickled the pulsing split until I was certain I would shake myself into little pieces. It was not enough of a sensation to actually make me come, but it was most certainly pleasurable and divine.

I turned the vibrator, buzzing in my ass, to high. I could feel a heat building behind the plug, the vibrations making my body sweat.

Mistress Cecilia is an amazing woman. Yet again she was able to direct me to try something that I had never done and I am a better stroker for it. She directed me to grab a pair of old nylon thigh-highs and I had plenty of pairs to choose from. She had me rub the soft fabric over my cock and when I gasped in pleasure as the nylons slipped to my tight balls she had me rub them, too. I played my cock like a violin, the nylon stocking the bow. Holding one end of the stocking in each hand I ran it back and forth over my cock and down my balls and back up again. It was intense and pleasurable and I am thankful for the sensations that Mistress Cecilia has me feel, the pleasure she brings to me. I can only hope to please her as well.

I pulled the nylons onto my hands, one on the left, the other the right and using my nylon gloves I stroked my drying shaft to another delicious edge. The lube that had rained down over my cock from the Fleshlight was being absorbed by the nylons and it seemed like I could feel the texture of the nylon better with the damp stocking.

I jumped to my knees as Mistress Cecilia commanded. The plug shifted as it continued its incessant vibrations.

I folded my hands together and slipped my cock, still hard and throbbing into that pseudo-sex. I fucked my hands, my ass clenching and releasing the plug, my hips rocking and the bed shaking. I was sweating and moaning and as Mistress Cecilia listened I stoked my lust and drove myself towards that precipice of completion.

And, for the fourth time, I was commanded to stop.

Needy and desperate, I stopped. I would, as always, obey.

Now, it was time to lock my cock away again. I had stoked the fires of need and driven myself to near completion as Mistress Cecilia had dictated; but today, was not the day I would come.

I removed the plug and cock ring and rinsed the chastity device and as Mistress Cecilia listened I locked her cock away. Make no mistake, it is her cock. I believe this, I know this. And she knows it, too. I always feel a tremor of pleasure as the lock clicks shut; there is a comforting finality to it and looking at the black numbers holding the cage in place I feel truly owned.

I snapped the picture and sent it away and we said good-bye.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Awareness

Good morning.

Yet again I woke up with my cock straining behind the clear plastic cage of the CB-6000. There’s not enough room to grow fully erect but when I wake, trying to grow as best as I can within the chastity device I feel the cage lift and pull against my scrotum and at that moment, climbing from slumber feeling achy and horny I can’t help but smile. My first waking thought is of Mistress Cecilia and her absolute and cherished control over me.

How can I not like that?

It is an interesting sensation to feel my cock tingling as it hides behind the clear plastic. I can see it but can do nothing with it. There is a constant, gnawing, incessant tickling inside the shaft. It is both pleasurable and distracting. I am aware of the aching desire and in that conscious sensation I shake with lust and feel alive. It’s strange and I am not sure I can explain it better than that. I feel an energetic, tingling that grows with each day and I have to say I enjoy the sensation.

I have already explained how the chastity device feels like Mistress Cecilia is actively holding her cock in her firm hand, with that grip never wavering. I am aware of her constantly and I find that I am always smiling, always happy. Serving Mistress Cecilia makes me feel confident and happy and I am thankful for her.

There is a comfort in feeling my owner with me, from the time I wake in the morning, struggling to grow erect to the time I turn out the light by the bed and whisper a soft, “good night, Mistress Cecilia.” Each moment of my day I am aware of her control over me; the control that I had relinquished and do not wish returned to me.

It’s time to head out the door to work. And Mistress Cecilia will go with me.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Nylon Gloves

Good Morning.

Yesterday evening I received an assignment from my owner, the wonderful Mistress Cecilia. Yet again she was able to come up with something that I had not tried before. It’s amazing how creative she is, how she can create a method for me to stroke and tease myself that was new and original.

I started by digging through my lingerie drawer. Yes, it’s true; I have enough panties, garters and stockings to fill a drawer. I pulled out two complete pair of thigh-highs for this assignment, one pair white and the softest pair, black. I grabbed a light green and yellow garter-belt. I pulled the garter-belt up and settled it around my hips.

Sitting on my bed I rolled up the first stocking into a small, coiled roll. I pointed my foot and slipped it into the stocking. I unfurled the stocking, pulling the soft fabric up my leg. Still sitting, I fastened the garter tab to the stocking and then repeated the process for the other leg. With the stockings caressing my legs, I stood and pulled the garter belt up to my waist. I enjoy the feel of the taut strap pressing against my legs. Often I'll lift the strap and snap it back down; it is a naughty feeling.

I walked into the bathroom feeling a gentle tickle in my legs from the soft caress of the nylon fabric. I filled the sink and snipped the plastic lock of the chastity cage. I cleaned the CB-6000 and made my way back to the bedroom.

Lying on the bed I pulled out the second set of thigh-highs. I slipped then on my hands, one on each, and pulled them up to my armpit. My hand was forced together by the tight nylon. It was like hand bondage, opening my fingers the nylons would force them back together. They were my nylon gloves. The feeling of the nylons on both my arms and my legs was exciting and I felt myself growing erect with the feeling. I rubbed my forearms with my nylon-clad hands feeling the soft, textured caress as it tickled my skin.

I rubbed myself until I was fully erect and began to rub my cock. Each hand was forced into a capital “U” due to the nylon materials encompassing grip. I stroked my cock, up from my balls and over the head with one hand and then repeating with the other. I couldn’t fully grip my cock with my newly webbed fingers. Up and up I stroked; first one hand and then the other.

My dick bounced and tingled as I savored the feeling of my nylon covered hands. I continued to stroke, fueling my lust until I reached that precipice of completion. I pulled my webbed hands away and watched my cock bob with my pulse. My room felt warm, the nylons heating my body.

With the immediate need waning I began my dual hand upward stroking again and a second time I reached the edge.

I started and stopped twice more before I had to climb from the bed and walk into the kitchen and back. Today was not a day where I would enjoy an orgasm; Mistress Cecilia had not allowed it. Isn’t that a fun and powerful thought? Personally, I savor her control.

I made my way back to the bedroom and began my teasing again. I stroked my cock, both nylon-clad hands slipping along my heated shaft. I could see a small blob of wetness on my right hand; a small dollop of fluid had been absorbed by the black fabric. Still I stroked until I once again reached the edge of completion and as before I pulled my hand away and waited for the immediate need to wane.

For one last time I began my dual upward stroking, up and up, over and over. Teasing myself, stoking the fire of my need and fueling the longing in my cock and the ache in my balls, I stroked. I was burning in need and sweating with the heat of the nylons. Have you ever noticed how warm stockings make you feel, and wearing them on both my arms and legs I felt even warmer than normal.

With the sixth edge behind me I climbed from the bed and removed the nylons from my arms. My cock was twitching as I single-handedly unfastened all four garter tabs with a practiced twist of my fingers and thumb and slid the white thigh-highs from my legs. I slid the garter belt down my legs and climbed naked into the shower. Warm water caressed my body as I bathed and shaved my cock and balls anew.

I climbed from the shower feeling needy and owned I snapped the chastity device back onto Mistress Cecilia’s cock. I pushed a new plastic lock in place and with an audible click that always makes me feel submissive when I hear it, I secured the lock. There is something thrilling and exhilarating about locking my pleasure behind the hard plastic. The feeling of being owned is all encompassing and each day I feel thankful that Mistress Cecilia has taken me as hers.

I snapped the picture and sent it on, my assignment complete.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Addiction

Hello, again.

Can you be addicted to being horny? This is the question that has been running through my head for the last few days. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around that question and so I hope to explain to myself what I mean with this post. Here it is Saturday morning and it has been four days since I have last come, four days since I have felt the pleasure of joyous release. But, and here is the point that has been dominating my thoughts, why do I feel more alive with an aching, burning need?

Why is it that when Mistress Cecilia sends me an assignment, one that has me fuel that ache and stoke the fires of my lust that I hasten to obey. I am a submissive man, and I know that my desire to serve also guarantees that I will obey promptly, but could it be more than that? Much more than that?

Why is it that I feel more alive when I am horny? And, as I do feel this way, does it not make sense that I would want to feel alive and therefore want to feel that aching and needy itch? It sounds like an addiction to me; a strong, habit-forming craving.

Craving. That sounds like another word for the horniness I feel. Have you ever sat in a chair and felt a tremor so powerful and so overwhelming that you were buzzing? Have you ever felt so tense and needy that you were aware of your body; that you could feel your pulse in your crotch and your nipples so hard they hurt? These are powerful reactions that are brought about by the aching need in my balls. Strong feelings brought about by simple horniness.

I look forward to my interactions with my beautiful owner, be it via email, phone or instant message. Each time we speak I wonder if this is going to be the call where I am allowed to come. I stroke as she commands and I stop as she orders; Mistress Cecilia fuels that ache. I edge myself as she commands, stopping just short of completion. On the phone, begging to come, I don’t know if she will allow me to release or make me stop. I am hers to control and in obeying I find myself feeling needy and therefore feeling alive and free.

It is Mistress Cecilia that makes me feel alive.

Could it be that I am addicted to her?

Mistress Cecilia does hypnosis and as of yet I have not tried a call using hypnosis. But, surely I am hypnotized by her, captured by her, controlled by her. If you have read her synopsis page at www.cockcontrol.com you will have read the following sentence which I have procured from that page.

Mistress Cecilia writes: “I can program your brain to not cum as frequently as you are used to, and only releasing when you hear My command to do so.”

While I have not as of yet been officially hypnotized, she has already programmed my brain to only come when she commands me to do so.

Alive.

Have you ever jumped from an airplane? I have. Twice. From 12,500 feet, with a parachute affixed firmly to my back I have leapt into the unknown and rushed towards the ground. Wearing goggles to prevent tears from the wind that races past your hair and whips your clothing so strong that it stings. There is an adrenaline rush so powerful, so overwhelming, that when you are once again standing firmly on the ground that you feel so tired and worn out, your body spent. And that rush fuels you to want to do it again. I’m sure you have heard the term Adrenaline Junky. Could I be a Horny Junky? Either way you feel so powerfully alive that you want to keep that feeling.

It sure sounds like an addiction.

There are powerful emotions in being owned and controlled.

And feeling horny and needy and achy makes me feel alive and as it is Mistress Cecilia that fuels me and controls me it is Mistress Cecilia that makes me feel that way.

I am addicted.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Shuffle Up and Deal

Hello, all.

Yesterday morning I received an interesting assignment from the beautiful Mistress Cecilia and upon reading it my first thought was, “this should be fun.” It was a stroking game that the delightfully intelligent and extremely creative Mistress Cecilia came up with that she entitled, “Ace Stroke ‘Em.” There's something exciting getting an assignment from my owner, knowing that I would have another chance to please her.

The basic premise of the game is that you shuffle a deck of cards and pull them out a pair at a time and the results of the cards instructs you how much you stroke your cock. An Ace, be it the first or second card in the pair means an edge with the second card telling you how many times to edge. Face cards have a value for both edges and stroking greater than their face value: Jacks are worth 15, Queens are valued at 25 and Kings are 30.

So, why was my first thought that this game would be fun? Well, the surprise involved. The mystery. To me there is a lot of excitement in the unknown. Mistress Cecilia controls my orgasms and I have no idea when she will grace me with that pleasure; I don’t want to know. Each day, each interaction the possibilities open up and I never know how they are going to end. Can you see why that is exciting?

The first thing to do, however, was to purchase a deck of cards. I didn’t own a single deck; I have a computer, that’s how I play Solitaire. So during the day I made my way to the store and browsed the aisles looking for the cards. I found them and grabbed three decks. I made sure to purchase playing cards and not Pinochle cards. Have you ever played Pinochle? I have. A Pinochle deck consists of 8 Aces, 8 Kings, 8 Queens, Jacks, Tens and the smallest card value is a nine. Knowing the rules, that would have made for a much longer, much more difficult game.

Once home, my work day behind me, I gathered up the Aneros plug and the olive oil. I lubed the plug and slipped it into my ass. I could feel my body grip the plug; it was in until the game was finished.

I opened up a new box of cards, shuffled them, again, a third and then a fourth time and finally I cut them in half and then set them on the nightstand by my bed.

Ready to go, I dropped onto my bed, rubbing myself until I was fully engorged.

I bent over and flipped the top two cards.

6-2 Eight strokes. Nice, easy start. I poured a healthy pull of oil onto my cock, feeling the cold fluid rain down over my heated flesh. I gripped my shaft and made the eight strokes. I closed up the first two cards and flipped over the second pair.

3-8 Eleven more strokes.

3-K My first king. As kings were worth 30 strokes, I grabbed my cock and pumped my erection thirty-three times. With oily hands I flipped the next two cards.

3-9 Twelve more delicious strokes.

5-A Here it was, my first Ace. And with the five it meant that I would bring myself to the edge of completion five times. I rolled onto my back and began to stroke. The first edge arrived quickly, the previous strokes having fueled my ardor. I stroked myself to the brink and pulled my hand away. I watched my cock bob and bounce as I waited for the need to subside.

I brought my hand back and once again stroked my erection, pumping it quickly, bringing myself upwards to that delicious, needy edge. Tingling with need I pulled my hand away, the second edge behind me.

With the immediate need abated, I once again gripped my turgid cock and in less than fifty strokes I once again reached the pinnacle of completion. I was needy and my desperation was climbing with each passing edge.

Twice more I brought myself to that tense, needy, desperate edge wanting to continue past but knowing that it was not allowed. I would not be coming today; I was only stoking a burning fire. Breathing heavily I rolled to my right and flipped the next two cards. Shifting to flip the cards seemed to help soothe the rising, burning desperation.

J-J Rolling back I grabbed my cock and began the requisite thirty strokes. Up and down my hand pumped and as I counted I could feel the edge approach. I reached thirty before I reached the edge; it would have only taken a few more strokes for the edge to appear again.

9-6 Fifteen strokes, not enough to reach completion but more than enough to keep me focused and aware of the growing, rising need I was feeling in my balls, cock and even up into my stomach.

10-7 Seventeen strokes, fast and full.

4-K I poured a bit more oil on my cock and pumped my erection thirty four times. I swallowed and exhaled with my toes curled. Needy.

A-4 It was time to edge again. Four more times. It did not take long for me to pump my cock through these four edges. Each one would find me tense and bearing down on the plug buried in my ass, making the feeling more intense and by the time I fueled myself into a longing frenzy for the fourth time I was shaking with longing.

Nine edges past and still an unknown number to go. It was the unknown that made it exciting and thrilling and fun. I had just finished edging and didn’t know if the very next draw would have me doing it again, forcing more, immediate edging. Or, would the next flip reveal just a few teasing strokes or maybe a pair of kings would come next revealing sixty strokes and would that yield yet another edge? There is fun in the unknown. I reached over and flipped the two next cards.

7-5 Twelve simple, easy strokes.

Q-Q Fifty strokes. I fell onto my back and grabbed my erection. I pumped my fist up and down, stroking slowly. If I went fast I was worried I’d reach the edge before I reached the required count. Up and down, inching my need along, I stroked. Forty-eight, forty-nine, and fifty. I had to wonder what the count would have been if I had drawn double aces. It was the only number I was unsure of. Somehow I doubt that it’s one lone edge. I rolled over and flipped again.

10- 4 Fourteen slow strokes.

2-7 Another nine.

8-A The third Ace, revealing eight more times I would drive myself to that delicious, throbbing edge. I poured a bit more olive oil only my heated erection and began to stroke again. I stroked my cock, rubbing it quickly, driving my need higher. I fueled my desperation. I stoked to the edge and paused, a second edge, stopped again. After the third I sat up, pushing the plug fuller into my ass and climbed to my feet. I was no allowed to come and I would make sure that I did not, no matter what I had to do.

I paced until the immediate need passed and made my way back to the bedroom. I saw the unused stack of cards and I was certain that they were mocking me, teasing me, telling me how much more I had to do.

I began stroking again and quickly I reached that steep drop where pleasure threatened to overwhelm me. I pulled my hand away, seeing how taut the skin on the head of my cock was; it glistened with the oil and precum and bobbed with my horniness. I had just come Tuesday yet it felt that I had not; this assignment was amazing for fueling my need, stoking my lust, and escalating my desperation. Half down.

I stroked myself to the fifth edge, paused and then hit the sixth. I watched my cock bounce and felt my balls pull up and grow hard, reminding me of a walnut. My balls were begging me to come. The decision had already been made, the answer was no.

Once again I stroked myself to the precipice of completion only to pull my hand away. Again I climbed to my feet and walked into my living room and back, my cock bouncing with each step. The pacing helped to calm the fury of need raging within.

I settled back on to the bed and stroked myself to that last edge of this pair of cards.

Breathing heavily and feeling hot I reached over and flipped the next two cards.

J-K Forty-five strokes. Making them slowly I could feel that needy, tingling want approach and knew it would not have taken much more for me to reach the edge.

8-2 A welcome, simple few.

7-A And there it was, the last ace, the last set of edging. Seven more times. I began to stroke and when the temptation arrived I pulled my hand away. I could feel my pulse in my cock and in the room I could see how red my cock was, how tight the skin.

With the second edge I was sweating and my breathing was coming heavily. My mouth was dry.
The third came and went and with the fourth my calves were tight and my toes were curled into fists as I strained to keep from going over the edge. I edged a fifth time and then the sixth. After the sixth I paced again, walking around my small apartment, willing the need to pass.

I stroked myself into a frenzy as the seventh edge approached. Breathing heavy and my cock bouncing with my pulse I stood. My legs were crossed and I was tense with still many cards to go. At least there were no further Aces, I was a needy mess and all the Aces were gone.

I walked back into the bedroom and dropped back onto my bed.

9-3 Twelve slow, easy strokes.

Q-J Forty slow strokes, my cock hot in my hand.

8-K Thirty eight more strokes. I poured a bit more oil onto my hot flesh and just teased myself with light, tender strokes. I wasn’t sure I could take any more than that.

4-10 Fourteen strokes, fast this time. I was nearing the end.

5-2 This was the easiest to get through. Seven light, quick strokes. The fewest this session.

10-6 Sixteen slow, steady, strokes. It was enough to keep my need stoked.

Q-5 Thirty more strokes that I powered through quickly, not stopping until they were all behind me.

9-6 My final fifteen strokes. I rubbed my cock, pumped my need and fed my lust.

It took an hour and fifteen minutes to complete my first ever game of “Ace Stroke ‘Em,” starting from the time I shuffled to the time that I climbed in the shower to cool my heated skin and chill my burning need, far longer than I had originally thought that it would. I wondered, as the water pelted me with both my hands resting on the back wall of the shower, did I get off lucky. It could have been worse, what if I had drawn a face card with an Ace? Or, would that have been better and not worse? So many exciting variables.

I shaved my crotch anew and as the razor grazed my skin I could feel the need bubbling in my testicles. I was tingling and tense and I felt alive. There is something exhilarating in denial, in teasing yourself for your owner. I know I find it thrilling.

I climbed from the shower and made my way into the living room where I once again locked Mistress Cecilia’s property within the small confines of the chastity cage. I snapped the lock in place and sent the picture to my owner. Mistress Cecilia knows her cock is safely stowed away. Even as I type this I can feel my pulse behind the plastic shell that encases my cock.

The game, as I had originally thought, was fun. It started slow and escalated into the unknown. And, each time this game is played, the draw of the cards would be different. Could it start with edging and end with none, of course. Could you get to the edge and immediately draw another ace. The possibility was there. And it is unknown. Mistress Cecilia has created a fun, interesting, challenging and wonderful game. Her intelligence and creativity are amazing. She is amazing!

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Stockings and Garters Oh My!

Hello, all!

Mistress Cecilia had a great piece Wednesday night at Fabulous Fem Chat concerning stockings and so I thought that I would post a bit more about my own thoughts and experiences with them.

The first stockings that I ever wore were not thigh-high stockings with garters, my favorite, but pantyhose. These, much like the first pair of panties that I ever wore were pilfered from my mother’s dresser drawer. I think that a lot of cross dressers get their first taste of the thrill of the feminine from what their mother or sisters have lying about. I know I did. Isn’t it a logical progression to move from panties to stockings, or in my case pantyhose?

The pantyhose were ugly and tan but forbidden and that is what made them exciting. I don’t remember much about them except for one small fact, they were very difficult to don. I learned much later to roll them up and slide your pointed toe in; that you should not try to slip your leg in the top and try to force them down the soft material like a sock. They never would go on that way. You have to roll them and then pull the nylon up your leg. How silly I must have looked, hopping on one leg trying to force the other down the tight nylon leg.

The first times I tried to force my leg into them as if I were pulling on pants was an exercise in stupidity. My leg would get stuck and cease to move and I’d grow sweaty and frustrated. I learned quickly how to scrunch them into a tight roll, stick your foot in and unfurl the nylon up your leg. I have read that it feels better with shaved legs, but I have never tried that, I’ve only ever shaved my crotch. My crotch, as I type this post is cleanly shaved; no need to have the chastity cage and ring pluck out stray hairs.

One time, after I learned this secret (and it was a secret, wasn’t it?) my mother hurt her back. I was maybe sixteen and she had a hard time bending at the waist. She asked that I help her put on some knee high stockings and like an expert I rolled them into a tight little sleeve and slipped the brown (nude) nylon up her calves. To this day I remember thinking “how do I explain my expertise away” and I said, “I hope I’m doing this right.” How should a young boy know how to put on nylons and by then I did know.

If my mother suspected anything she never said.

It was nearly a decade later before I bought my first pair of pantyhose. I remember, a lot of my stories start with those two words it seems, going into the grocery store and buying a pair of L’eggs. I remember the brand as I had given my cover story a lot of thought; I wasn’t buying the pantyhose I was buying the egg-shaped container that they came in. I bought the largest size they had but I can’t tell you what color they were. The cover story was never even needed.

Even my most recent pair of panty hose that I purchased came with a cover story, I needed to filter oil and I have found that pantyhose are great for filtering oil. It has to be true, right? I can’t say if it is, but the cover story sounds reasoned and plausible and I think, maybe, it would work. With the advent of self-checkout it is easier for a guy to purchase items not typically masculine; the last skirt I bought was at a Wal-Mart where I was able to ring up the purchase myself.

So, I would wear pantyhose, the electric thrill of sliding my pointed foot into the caressing sleeve was pleasurable and forbidden and that is what made them desirable. I wasn’t supposed to wear them, society said so.

Then, I found thigh-high stockings. Just like the way the nylons of old would energize my legs and sizzle with electricity as they slid across each other, stockings did the same but, and this is the best part, the garter belts. I have about six different garter belts; they have to match your panties, right? I love the feel of the taut garter strap as it races down my thigh. I keep every strap shortened to its smallest length to maximize the pleasurable caress of the taut strap. Yes, there have been times that the garter tab, which I can unhook with a practiced twist of two fingers, has come free and slapped upward. It has even hit my balls once which hurt like all get out. I find it frustrating when the snap lets go. I want to feel the taut pull of the strap along my thigh and the electric caress of the smooth nylon.

Body stockings came next. They are crotch-less and I think they have to be; you’d have to undress almost completely to use the bathroom if they weren’t. They are not as exciting to me as garter belts but the feeling of the lacy material caressing more of your skin has an electric feeling that almost trumps the taut pull of the garter strap along my naked thigh. They are harder to hide, too.

Garter-belts and stockings, like panties, can easily be hidden under male clothes and there is a secret thrill wearing them when no one else knows. I mentioned one time how my secret was revealed due to an automobile accident; sometimes the risk you take proves the risk.

So stockings are exciting to me, I have worn them and I have used them to bind my legs to the bed; they work well in bondage as well. Have you ever used a thigh-high as a cock ring? Tying the silky material around the base of your cock and balls and pulling it snug? It works remarkably well, I know, I’ve done it more than once.

After panties and stockings with the delicious pull of the taut strap I progressed to high-heel shoes. I have mentioned that I own two pairs of high-heels, three if you count my black patent leather ballet slippers that I can’t walk in. Hell, I can barely stand in them, but they are oh, so kinky. The shoes that I own, one red pair and the other black can be locked on. I have a thing for locks. I have locked them on for hours at a time. There was a three month period where I’d only allow myself to masturbate if I had my shoes locked on.

If you read my post entitled Fantasies (0) then you know how I’d lock the shoes on my feet with the keys locked outside in my car. How delightfully naughty was it that I’d have to wait until the sun set to remove the shoes from my feet. In that earlier post I mentioned how it would be possible to extend the trapped duration. It’s an interesting read.

Kinky.

Yes, I enjoy the delicious feel of the nylons on my legs and the thrill I get of sliding my legs together. I enjoy the taut pull of the garter strap and the tug on the nylons. And I like the kinky thrill of high-heeled shoes on my feet.

Panties and garter-belts and thigh-high stockings with locked on high-heeled shoes.

Electric.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Celebration

Hello, again.

I seem to write a lot about milestones, those continuing events that top themselves. Yesterday was one of those milestones. Yesterday one month had passed since Mistress Cecilia took me as her own and made me hers. Isn’t it fitting then that I was able to have an amazing and delicious phone call with her; that I was able to hear her voice and savor the simple joy that is her laugh on that monumental day?

I placed the call, my fingers pressing the numbers with delight. I was nervous but not as nervous as I normally was. Could it be that I was less worried of uttering something stupid or was I more convinced that I would be able to please my mistress? There are insecurities that I possess; hmm, that sounds like another blog post. My insecurities.

Mistress Cecilia greeted me with her sweet, lyrical voice. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of speaking with her, she makes me feel alive. We spoke briefly, Mistress Cecilia directing me to first insert the Aneros plug. I obeyed, lying on my back and lubing up the white plug. I slipped it into my hungry ass, gasping briefly as it slid home.

Next, as directed, I grab a banana. Monday I had purchased three of the curved, yellow fruit. I carried it into the bathroom and as directed, standing in the tub, I peeled it and under Mistress Cecilia’s guidance I began to smash the cream colored meat into my cock.

I ground it up, smashed it, and mangled it into a wet pulp. It looked like baby food in my hand and on my cock only more brown than yellow. I stroked my cock using the gooey mashed banana as a lube. Pieces of the fruit fell into the tub with an audible thump. I picked up the larger of these pieces and ground it into my needy erection, too. The smell of bananas filled the air as I stroked and quickly, sixteen days of denial spurring my need, I reached that edge of release.

I was commanded to stop and to fetch a towel and the bottle of olive oil.

As directed I folded a towel in half and knelt on it in the tub, amber light filling the room from the bulbs above the sink. I grabbed the olive oil and poured the cool liquid over my fruit-coated cock. The banana and oil mixed and I stroked myself, my hand flying over the slippery, heated flesh. My hand was a blur as I brought myself to that blissful, needy edge. “Getting close,” I croaked, my voice sounding hollow in the small room. I stopped as I was instructed to do.

Mistress Cecilia commanded that I “twist it out.” I obeyed, squeezing and twisting my cock with my hand. My grip was tight against my cock; I would squeeze and rotate my hand, wringing my cock like cleaning the water from a mop. Twist and tug, pulling and squeezing I worked my cock into a frenzy.

I was commanded to lie in the tub and I obeyed, the tub cold against my back and the green towel I had knelt on for my second tense edge now served as a pillow. My cock was still slick with the oil and banana mixture and with Mistress Cecilia listening I fueled my lust and stroked my cock to a third, tingling and needy edge.

I turned the water on and set the phone down so that Mistress Cecilia could hear the water pound from the spigot in a fury. Lying down and the water filling the tub I inched lower, my legs climbing the wall and my ass pressing against the stopper. I set my balls under the raining flow and masturbated myself to a fourth, needy edge.

I climbed from the tub, drying myself off with a towel and pulling the wet towel that had served as both a knee pad and a pillow from the tub. I watched as banana pulp disappeared down the drain. The smell of bananas was still in the air, I doubt I’ll ever think pure thoughts of that smell again. I read once that smell brings back memories the strongest of any of the senses and as such a banana will always make me think of my beautiful owner.

I was commanded to grab the spatula and slap my ass twenty times as I knelt by the bed. I folded myself over and began striking the fleshy cheeks of my ass. Even though I had not been told I counted out each stroke and thanked Mistress Cecilia for each painful strike. I winced with each blow. A few times I held the phone against my ass as I swung the spatula so that Mistress Cecilia could hear the paddle slap against my ass. Have you ever slapped your ass with a plug buried deep inside? Each slap of the paddle made my ass clench on the plug and that in turn eased the sting of the blows. It's an intense feeling.

With the twenty strokes behind me I climbed onto the bed. I dropped onto my back and poured another healthy dollop of the slick, cool olive oil over my heated skin. With Mistress Cecilia coaxing me in her velvety, sexy voice I stroked my cock and fueled my need and drove myself to that precipice of completion. I heard the word “no,” and pulled my hand away, my ass gripping the plug that was still buried within.

As directed I bent my elbow out and the back of my hand faced my chin. Holding my hand this way I rolled over onto my stomach and fucked my cock into my folded hand. My ass rose and fell and clutched the plug as my cock slipped into and then pulled free of the hand folded under me. I could feel my weight of my body on my hand as I continued to fuck my fist. Up and down I thrust my hips, moaning and gasping at the pleasure that raced along my spine.

Mistress Cecilia told me to turn over and she laughed at how fast I obeyed. I have mentioned it before; her laugh is the sweetest sound on earth. She told me to hold use just my fingers to caress the sensitive head. My fingers caressed and rubbed the split end of my cock, teasing and rubbing the sensitive crease. My finger rubbed and stroked and caressed the tip. I felt my dick tingle and throb. The sensation of the slow teasing fueled my need and drove my need higher.

The favorite way to stroke that Mistress Cecilia had taught me was the one where I would interlace my fingers and press my thumbs together, folding my hands into a pseudo-sex and then slipping my cock inside. I told this to my owner and she had me fold my hands together and to fuck my hands. Each upward stroke of my hips made my ass clamp down on the plug. Up I would drive my cock into my hands and my ass would clench against the plug.

Down, my cock would slide free of my palms and my ass would release its tight grip on the plug.
Up and down my hips thrust, clenching and releasing the plug buried in my ass.

I fucked my fists and when the edge arrived I begged to come.

And I heard the words that had been absent for sixteen days. “Now, come for me now.” Sweet, tasty words.

And I came, thanking Mistress Cecilia for the joy I felt and the pleasure that she brought me. My body was shivering even though sweat poured from my forehead and stung my eyes. I splattered my stomach and chest and was trembling from the pleasure of my joyous release.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

We chatted briefly and then hung up the phone. The counter to reset anew.

Mistress Cecilia has owned me for one month and I was able to celebrate that milestone with the blessed release that she had allowed me. Her strength, intelligence, wit, empathy and wisdom are evident in each of our interactions and I cherish them. She is an amazing woman.

I took a shower, the water feeling overly hot on my balls. Even locked in the cage with my balls spilling outward the water never felt that warm. So sensitive was I after that blessed release that I was overly sensitive to the heat of the water that rained down upon my naked form. As I showered I cleaned the tub amazed at how there was browning banana on the walls of the shower as well as the floor of the tub. I shaved my crotch, tugging the itchy hairs away with the sharp razor. Then, I rinsed the chastity device and once again locked Mistress Cecilia’s property away. My pleasure is hers to dictate. I know I’ve said it before, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours!

Banana Condom

Hello!

I received another assignment from Mistress Cecilia and once again she was able to introduce me to something I had not tried before. I always enjoy how I can experience new things, feel new sensations, and all of it thanks to my beautiful owner. She never ceases to amaze me.

I read the assignment and made my way to the store to purchase a banana. Well, I bought three bananas, not being sure how things were going to work out I made sure I had a couple extras. I always seem to over-prepare. With the curved yellow fruit in my possession I made my way back home.

I stripped, carried the bananas and the olive oil into the bathroom, and filled the sink with hot, soapy water. I cut the curved hasp of the plastic lock and dropped the chastity device and locking ring into the sink. Free of the device, my cock began to harden. I used my left hand to help it along until I stood by the tub, my cock pointing up.

I grabbed one of the bananas, peeled it, and pulled the soft, white fruit free of its protective shell. The skin of the banana reminded me of my own chastity device, how the outer husk protected the tender meat inside. Sometimes my mind makes weird associations. I set the peel on the edge of the tub and smashed the banana into a pulp into my hand. Some of the soft meat fell into the tub in a blob.

I smashed the banana meat into my cock. I rubbed it in, smeared it around and felt the banana pulp squish between my fingers and slip along my cock and more fell into the tub. Another chunk fell with a thump as I continued to smear the banana into my skin, feeling it change from rough to slippery. It was an interesting feeling.

With the banana gone from my hand I picked up the yellow skin and slipped it over my cock. I wrapped my hand around the banana peel and began masturbating with that banana condom. I pumped my fist, the inner rind slipping smoothly over my hot flesh. I stroked and rubbed and soon I felt that edge of completion, rising higher and higher until my toes curled and I slipped my hand free, pulling the banana skin off and waiting for the need to wane.

There was an interesting similarity between the banana peel and the Fleshlight that I had used before. Both took the feeling of your own hand away from your cock and replaced it with an absent feeling. It made it feel less like masturbating and more like sex.

When the edge receded like the tide I gripped the banana skin and once again draped it over my turgid cock. The inner skin grew even more slippery as I continued stroking; the cream, textured skin caressed my cock and slipped along the heated flesh. I stroked my cock, hidden behind the yellow peel. My hand pumped and once again the edge of completion arrived and once again, my breathing heavy I pulled the banana free of my cock and waited, bobbing and needy, for the edge to pass.

For the third time I donned the yellow skin and began to stroke my cock. The inner sleeve seemed to be coated with a damp sheen, like a coating of oil or soap, making it slip easier along Mistress Cecilia’s cock. I stroked myself until the edge arrived again and as the previous two times I pulled my hand away and waited, tense and needy, for the feeling to pass.

I dropped the banana peel into the trash, picked up the banana pieces and threw them away as well. I turned on the water as strong and warm as I could stand. The tub began to fill with water, the level rising. I climbed in and dropped onto my back. I raised my legs and inched my way down the tub until the water that poured from the spigot slapped my full and heavy balls.

I could feel the heat of the water and the sting of the pressure as the water rained down furiously on my balls. I grabbed the olive oil and poured it over my cock as the water continued its assault. With my cock slick and hard and the water pounding down I grabbed my cock and began to stroke. Up and down my hand moved and stroked. The water in the tub continued to rise as I reached the forth delicious and tenuous edge.

Still the tub filled as the water poured loudly from the spigot.

One last time I gripped my cock, my hand rising and falling as I stroked to near completion, stopping just shy of ejaculation. I lowered my head into the deepening water and still the tub filled. I winced then, the water striking my testicles at such a way that I lurched and my hips bucked. I wondered briefly had the pain just appeared or had it been rising constantly, had I been oblivious to it as I continued my teasing ministrations?

I climbed to my feet, my back pulling free of the tub with a heavy sucking sound. Water dripped from my short hair to run down my back, ass and legs. I turned off the water and eased from the tub. I grabbed the chastity cage, rinsed the suds from it and donned the encompassing prison. I snapped a new lock in place and snapped the picture.

That picture has been sent; Mistress Cecilia knows her property is safely locked away.

I took a shower next; the heated water helps my testicles to sink and makes the chastity cage fit more comfortably and I needed to wash the residue of the olive oil away.

The feeling of the banana condom was interesting and different and entirely more enjoyable than I would have thought. Fruit as a masturbation tool. Who knew? Mistress Cecilia has an amazing imagination and a depth of spirit and an understanding of the male psyche that makes her impossible to resist. She is an amazing woman and I thank her.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.

Two Words

Good afternoon!

Yesterday Mistress Cecilia sent an assignment to me and I have to say that the assignment, while simple in its execution, meant so much to me that immediately after reading the task I was smiling a huge, loopy grin and already falling into that submissive part of myself that had been freed and allowed to flourish under the guidance of the astounding Mistress Cecilia.

Prior to starting the assignment I had reached another milestone. I had been locked inside the hard plastic of the chastity device for fifty-four consecutive hours. Fifty-four hours with Mistress Cecilia’s cock trapped and safely locked away. Each time I break a record it thrills me that I am breaking said record for Mistress Cecilia; it’s something I will always carry with me and I get a warm, complete feeling thinking about that fact.

I snipped the lock and removed the CB-6000 and as the assignment dictated I slipped the Aneros plug into my ass. My butt clenched and held the small, white plug firmly in place and massaged against the prostate, as it was designed to do. I was hard and needy and the plug only fueled the feeling or horniness as I tightened against it.

I dropped onto the bed and with my eyes closed and my need high, I began to stroke. My hand was a blur, pistoning and flying and driving my need higher; fueling my desperation. I stroked, my cock hot in my hand. Up and down my hand raced as I brought myself to that delicious, tingling, falling-from-the-chair edge that made my body alight with tension as I willed that precipice to ebb.

One down.

Twice more I stroked myself into a frenzy of desire, wanting to come, needing to come. And, twice more, I pulled my hand away, shaking, with my ass gripping the Aneros plug with fury; an orgasm was not allowed, it was not Mistress Cecilia’s will that I come. I was serving her and I enjoy that servitude more with each passing day. I long to please her and in doing so, I will please myself. The true joy of submission is in the pleasing of your owner, putting their pleasure above your own. At least, that is what I believe.

With my cock bouncing I began that part of the assignment that had made me smile; savoring the two words that had been written more than any other.

Mistress Cecilia had written: “Take your spatula and make that ass red for me tonight.”

Do you see them? The two words that made my submissiveness swell and my body tremble in blissful happiness?

For Me.

I grabbed a spatula and began to spank my ass. Ten, twenty, thirty times my arm swung the black spatula, each smack slapping against the opposite, fleshy cheek. I paused, feeling the heat in my ass. Again I began, striking my ass with the flat edge of the spatula, alternating between the left and right sides. Twenty, thirty, who knows how many strokes I went before I paused again?

I had a goal; I was going to get my ass red. For Mistress Cecilia.

Again and again I swung the paddle. Feeling the sting as it climbed to an ache; feeling the heat grow to a fire. A few times I would hit a sensitive spot that had been struck recently and I would wince, sucking in a breath of wet air as my eyes would squint. Over and over again I would slap my ass with the spatula, pausing as the pain became difficult to ignore. When all was said and done, each fleshy cheek had received more than a hundred stinging swats.

I started and stopped striking myself, spanking my ass, as the sting dictated. Satisfied with the glow and rosy color I put the spatula away. My erection had long since waned and so I had no difficulty donning the chastity device again, locking Mistress Cecilia’s property within the hard confines of the transparent plastic.

For me.

Two simple words that make me feel alive and submissive and owned and whole.

For me.

Thank You, Mistress Cecilia.

Humbly and Happily Yours.