sub-burbs

Update:  My deinal devotion was extremely  difficult.  First, I was shocked at how much toothpaste burned as soon as it touched my cock.  It probably didn’t help that I use cinnamon-flavored (ow).  Of course, something about the experience made me extremely excited, so I was rock hard, throbbing, aching, and trying to last 15 minutes without any release.  I also made the mistake of watching some of my favorite Mistress Chanta Rose sessions from WaterBondage.com, something that ususally puts me right at the edge without any help.

It was really   close, but I managed to make it to the end of my devotion without spilling.  This experience, once again, taught me to never underestimate Mistress and her wonderfully devious cruelty.  Also, it completely reinforced that I’m a complete freak, my cock responding in the opposite expected manner when the toothpaste/liquid lava started burning my most sensitive skin.

As you may notice from the missing key from the banner above, I am no longer caged.  I received the Points of Intrigue for the CB2000 chastity cage in the mail and they helped somewhat, but I’m just too big of a guy to get a good, solid fit of the cage which makes wearing it for any length of time potentially unsafe.

In addition, the more I thought about release being at least 24 hours away, the more leery I became about being locked in chastity.  Between needing to shave and clean, and the fact that I’m married and I haven’t figured out how to introduce Mistress to my wife yet, the thought of having no way to undo the cage in an emergency was pretty daunting.  Mistress and I are actually working on a project that may help me and other boys in my position, but that’s top secret for the time being.

Mistress told me to hold on to the cage for now in case she wants to use it for situational chastity (I’m sure she will find some use for it while I’m visiting her) and told me not to be too upset about not living up to this challenge.  I am, however, really disappointed that I wasn’t able to fulfill Mistress’s wishes and that I’ve let her down in this way.

Mistress did  immediately start to put other interesting ideas in my head, including her marking me (either with a brand or tattoo) and having me get a Prince Albert piercing.  I had my nipples pierced once upon a time and loved  it, so I’ve been looking at PA information on-line all day to educate myself and see what it would really take.  I’m tempted to discuss getting one on the last day of my visit with Mistress as a final devotion.

Today, Mistress is sick, flattened by some bug or another that’s going around.  To make herself feel better, she’s instructed me to perform some extra suffering on her behalf.   I had the choice if extending my daily devotion to her by an additional 34 minutes or by only 15 minutes if I stroked with a combination of Icy Hot and lube.  (She said that toothpaste worked well in the absence of Icy Hot.)

I have decided to try the toothpaste mixture because (a) I don’t know if I could last 34 minutes and don’t want to fail this test as well and (b) I’m always interested in new kinks and, having never tried this, the warped part of my mind wants to try it out.

The optimistic part of my brain is sure it can’t be all that bad, but something tells me that Mistress’s devious mind would not have crafted this task unless it would make me suffer appropriately. 

I’ll know soon enough…

Today, I moved one step closer to my "in person" meeting with Mistress Trecia.  After some logistics discussions with Mistress, I booked my flight and hotel as well as turned in my vacation request at work.  Now I just have to wait the two months until the date arrives, something that is already proving difficult as I get more giddy about the trip with each passing day.

As part of my meeting Mistress, I am planning on bringing a large gift, something that not only shows my devotion but something that hopefully returns at least a small part of the joy Mistress has brought to my life since we’ve met.  (I need to clam up immediately or I’m going to start spilling details and I would miss the pleasure of watching Mistress open the gifts with no expectations nor hints as to what they contain.) 

Traveling to meet someone I’ve met over the Internet, especially for something so intimate and secret (I can’t think of a single person who I could or would tell where I’m going), is freaking me out a little bit.  While part of me needs to kneel at Mistress’s feet and bask in her aura, this is Stranger Danger 101 in a nutshell, except that instead of candy I’m being offered the chance to fulfill my deepest, darkest desires.  Sure, ma’am - I love puppies!  Let me hop right into that nondescript van!

In all seriousness, I’m not afraid of being abducted, at least not outside of an awesome scene.  Mistress and I have been talking a great deal over the past few weeks and have connected on a very deep level.  Our pasts align in many ways (both within the D/s scene as well as our personal backgrounds), but we are also just very much alike.  We share the same tastes in books, TV shows, erotic torture, video games, theme park rides, and so on.  That I just stumbled into this relationship on a fluke just reaffirms my belief in Karma and that good things come to good people.

Also, since this is the first time I’ve had live contact with a professional Domme, I’m nervous about screwing up the expected protocol or inadvertently taking advantage of Mistress’s good graces.  (For instance, should I ask for a ride from the airport?  I thought no and picked a hotel with free shuttle service, but have since been offered a ride.)  I’m playing it by ear, explicitly asking questions when I’m really afraid that I’m crossing the line and planning to handle everything from transportation to food on my own just in case to make sure I don’t make any assumptions about what to expect.  (I mean, this isn’t a pre-paid tour package, it’s a visit to the Goddess!)

One interesting twist is that Mistress demanded that she receive her own key to my room so she can come and go as she pleases.  I had thought that my hotel would be my own safe zone during the week.  While I’m not uncomfortable with giving up that buffer zone, it does reinforce the fact that I will be in service during my time with Mistress, wholly and completely.  I’ve already decided that I’m going to need to keep the hotel room stocked with Mistress’s brands of coffee and cigarettes and figured that I’m probably going to be forced to be naked when not outside.  (Or, maybe then, too, come to think of it…)

In any case, the end of March can not come too quickly!

I’m going to pause from my history lesson to talk a little bit about subpace.

When I was a young kid (around 7 years old), I was pulled out of class and sent into a room for some "special testing".  It was unlike any other test I had ever taken - for one question, you had to take a page filled with outlines of eggs and turn them into as many different things as possible, for example.  The results of those tests caused my parents to take me for more private testing, doing mazes and solving logic problems for a nice lady in a lab coat.  I didn’t know it at the time, but those tests would shape a large part of my childhood.

As you’ve probably guessed, it seems (at least on paper) that my brain is wired a little differently than the average person’s.  While that may sound like life potential personified (or me just being a pompous ass), it actually just became an excuse for my parents to constantly tell me I wasn’t doing well enough at anything. 

As I got older, my mind started to get….well, cluttered for lack of a better word.    I always had various things cooking on my mental burner all at the same time, from writing code, kicking around ideas for another novel, running though movie quotes, trying to remember the name of the cute girl that rode on my bus to school, and so on.  These days, I can’t even get to sleep without listening to an MP3 podcast so I can quiet enough of the thoughts so I can sleep.

My first inkling of "subspace" came during a session with Mistress Debbie.  I was bound firm across the back of a sawhorse and she was trying out her impressive array of paddles on my ass.  The pain I was feeling and desire to perform well for Mistress started to have an interesting effect on me.  It started to occur to me that the only thing I really could do at that moment was feel and experience what was happening right then - the click of Mistress’s high heels on the concrete, the whooshing of the paddle as she came in for a hit, the dusty smell of the garage mixed with Mistress’s perfume, the sting and warmth of my ass checks from the punishment.

I couldn’t move and there was no decision I could have made that would have changed the situation for me.  The only action I could take was to feel  and the only single thing that mattered was if Mistress was happy.

The realization did something unbelievable - it started to quiet my mind.  It was like having 20 radios all tuned to different stations and then suddenly having 19 of them fade out leaving only one delicate strain of beautiful music.  That singular thinking, being stuck in a solitary thought so utterly and completely focused was something I had never really experienced before.

The feeling only lasted for a few seconds and I completely dismissed it at the time.  It wasn’t until later that I learned to find that place under the expert tutelage of Mistress Natalie, learning to seek that place out pushing myself into subspace where I could just experience and savor each moment in time and set my mind to the only task that mattered, serving Mistress with all of my being.

I’m planning to write more about subspace going forward and it’s importance to me and this current journey I’m on to reclaim the missing pieces of my sexuality.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to do the experience justice with mere words.

Previously on timid boy:  After the separation of my wife and I, I started hanging out at a variety of swingers parties around San Diego.  It wasn’t long before a met one of the fixtures of the Heart On San Diego BBS, Mistress Debbie.

I remember our first meeting vividly.  I was sitting on a couch sipping a beer and wondering if I should get naked and join the group of cute women that just headed into the pool when this woman came over and sat down right next to me.  She introduced herself, then told me her on-line handle.  It turns out we had actually been chatting on-line and I had told her about my interest in D/s and my dissatisfaction with finding a suitable partner.  Like most people you meet on-line, Mistress Debbie was nothing like how I pictured her.  She was little over 10 years my senior and was a fairly "Rubenesque" woman with gigantic anime-worthy breasts which she assured me were all natural.  (I hadn’t even asked, something that should have probably been a warning sign…)

She was married, but had an open relationship and was looking for a new "pet" to play with.  She was not a professional lifestyle Domme, but did have some experience and she was a central player in San Diego’s swinger’s scene.  She then told me to strip and sit back on the couch (which I did) and she proceeded to straddle my lap, pinning my arms back with her hands while she placed her lips against my ear and started describing in graphic detail what I could expect if I visited her at home the next day.

Needless to say, I took her up on her offer.

On the surface, Mistress Debbie looked like a dream come true.  We started playing together quite a bit and I quickly became known as "Debbie’s Pet" at the local parties.  She had a make-shift dungeon set up in her garage and I was frequently left hanging by my arms while being subjected to all sorts of flogging and spanking.  We also played some games with her husband, their favorite being to strip me naked then tie me to a chair at their bedside, after which they would engage in some of the raunchiest sex I’ve ever been witness to.  If I was good, she would usually stroke me to a climax and then let me sleep at the foot of their bed like the family dog.

It only took a few months, however, before the shiny veneer cracked and I started to see what Mistress Debbie was really made of.  First, she was very well off, even by SoCal standards.  She used her money to ensnare people into her service.  Any favor or financial assistance she offered usually meant that you were hers, whether you were a sub or just a friend.  While that worked in the D/s setting, I started to see many of her friends start to distance themselves as she acted more and more superior to those around her.  The money, I soon discovered, came from a lawsuit when her adopted son suffered brain damage after strangling on his wheelchair harness due to an inexperienced bus driver.  That made it the most evil kind of blood money possible, especially considering how she threw it around and used it as a manipulation tool.

Another thing that didn’t seem like too big a deal at the time was her taste for drugs and friends that enjoyed the same.  I would become well acquainted with one of her friends, another amateur Domme named Mistress Bonnie.  Mistress Bonnie had a full-time live-in, her husband Robert.  While at home, he would be her full-time sub, performing housework and basically just doting on his Domme.  Mistress Debbie loaned me out to her on occasion, usually to be put into a French Maid’s outfit and clean her house.  As a reward after one housecleaning, she tied me down in a stirrups-type position after which she told Robert to shave my cock and balls then bring me to orgasm orally.  (Man, that was hhhhhhhhhhhhot…)

While all that was great fun, Mistress Bonnie introduced me to an even harsher Domme, Crystal Meth.  While I wouldn’t end up hooked until almost a year later, tweaking out during her sessions started me down a slippery slope which would end in full-blown drug addiction.  [More on that later…]

What finally ended my relationship with Mistress Debbie is when she did the unthinkable - she broke our trust.

I was doing pet duty at a private party in the ballroom of a ritzy local hotel and Mistress said she had a surprise for me.  She took me up to her hotel room and tied me up.  She then said she’d be right back and proceeded to leave the room, returning about 15 minutes later with a man I’d never seen before.  She then offered me to him as a gift to do with as he pleased.  Now, up until this point, I only had a few other "bi" experiences, and since my first was a semi-consensual session with my Scoutmaster when I was 14, I immediately started to freak out.  (Oral sex is one thing, but he made it clear he intended to use me in every possible way.)  It was right then that I did the one thing that I hadn’t done before or since - I said the "safe word", the one previously agreed upon phrase that was supposed to stop the session.

As you can probably guess, Mistress Debbie completely disregarded the safe word and things moved forward.

The guy fondled me for a little bit and started to lick and suck various parts of my body, but before things went much farther, Mistress Debbie decided she was sick of my carrying on and told the guy to stop.  The two of them went at it on the bed for awhile and then she sent him away.  I actually didn’t know what to say to Mistress Debbie right then, but she acted like it was just another session.  A few days later, I called her and said I wouldn’t be coming by any longer.  She tried to use some money she had "loaned me" to guilt me into staying (she paid for a new transmission on my car to replace the one her sister destroyed after she had borrowed it without my permission - not really my fault nor a loan, but there you go), but I managed to stay firm and stay away.

Through the grapevine, I heard that Mistress Debbie took my rejection really hard and didn’t understand at all why I was upset or walked away from her.  She supposedly started doing things to try and please me, including getting gastric bypass and some plastic surgery (including breast implants), something that further proved that she didn’t know me at all because (a) I like big girls and (b) I hate fake breasts more than anything.  (I like breasts of any size as long as they are real.)

Free of Mistress Debbie, I dropped out of the scene for a little bit.  Further exploring my "I must be gay" theory, I actually tried dating a few guys.  One guy, Master Luke, ran a video production company where he tied up guys on camera.  We didn’t last long nor ever try a D/s scene, which is probably good because our first session was to be a filmed feature.  (He did give me the option of wearing a mask, but said he would pay me extra if I agreed to show my face.)

After that, my bad life choices got exponentially worse.  In one case, I started rooming with a lesbian couple, only to discover that one of the girls was actually bi and kind of sweet on me.  We started a relationship behind her girlfriend’s back which ended in tears and bad feelings for everyone.

I also hit the end of my Civil Service contract and stopped working for the government all together.  (I had a pretty hefty security clearance and they said staying on would mean upgrading to a higher level, something that would mean an FBI background check.  Given all of the above, I really wasn’t keen about having my sexcapades on my permanent record.)  After a little looking around, I found a job at an Internet startup company (this was just when the web started to go commercial) with little money and fewer clients.  I threw my heart and soul into my job, something that would come back to bite me during the months that followed.

Next time, on timid boy:  After not getting paid by the company, I start sleeping in my office and, since I was the only programmer left at the company, began using meth so I could program for 72 - 80 hour stretches without stopping.  I would then meet Mistress Natalie, the one woman who would show me the light and finally make me understand what subspace is all about.

While I hate to leave anyone hanging, waiting for the lurid tales of my time with Mistress Debbie, events today dictated a little rewind to talk about my mother.

My immediate family got together today for a family portrait, meaning my mom, sister, brother-in-law, nephew, and wife were all in the same same room, huddled arm in arm, and smiling for the camera.  It was a little tense, but I normally get along pretty well with my mom these days.  This is mainly due to the fact that my sister and I have (for the moment) given her a complete pass for the abuse she inflicted on us as kids.

To this day, I don’t ever remember my parents fighting.  I’m assuming they did so in private, because one day my mom picked me up from the library and, sitting parked in our garage at home, told me that she and my dad were getting a divorce.  I was 10.  While I was devastated at the news, things really went downhill from there.  My mother apparently thought my father didn’t discipline us enough, so my sister and I were quickly left with no buffer for her wrath.  Whenever she thought we were not behaving (an elusive standard that changed from day to day), she would smack us in the face as hard as she could.  She was always telling me to "take it like a man" and would hit my sister and I a second time if we flinched. 

Shortly after the divorce, my mom’s lover Bill moved in with us.  (From what I can piece together, they were actually having an affair long before my dad was out of the picture.)  She also belonged to a swingers group (made up of members from our church, if you can believe that) and had long weekend getaways with her female "best friend" (who, my sister and I are 99.9% sure, was also her lover).

When I finally got bigger and stronger than my mother, she got angrier since she couldn’t punish me the way she wanted.  (I remember the last time she tried vividly - I caught her wrist in mid-swing and stared her down until she walked away.)  This lead to some doozy fights once I became a teenager.  One time, we were in a screaming match with her at the bottom of the stairs yelling at me at the top.  I decided I was going to kill her and raced forward to grab her neck in my hands.  I ended up tripping and falling down the stairs taking all of the neatly hung family portraits down with me.  It was painful and poetic at the same time.

A few times, I ran away.  Once, I spent two days in a movie theater at the mall.  (I worked at the mall sporting goods store and knew all the maintenance passageways.)  During another, I slept in the stairwell of a nearby resort hotel.  Eventually, though, I’d call my dad for help and he’d drag me back.  He swears now he didn’t know any of this was going on, something I’m also still dealing with.  While I get along great with my dad, I still feel on some level that he turned his back on my sister and I because he didn’t want to get between us and our mother.

So, you’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with BDSM, right?

I’ve read in the past (and had at least one of my shrinks tell me this as well) that men who were physically abused by their mothers from a young age tend to develop a fetish for wanting to be dominated by women.  Supposedly, at some level, we associate the abuse we suffered as love and need that "attention" again to feel whole.  While I agree with this theory on some level (I mean - look at me!), I also don’t think that can be the only factor at play in my case.  Even if it is 100% true, buying wholly into this theory would mean that I would picture my mom as I was naked performing my assignments for Mistress and that is just way too much for me to wrap my head around.

Although I’m starting to make peace with the D/s part of my sexuality (thanks, in large part, to Mistress Trecia), I’m still puzzled about what to do about my mom’s past abuse.  Leaving home at 19 for the Navy (and moving 8,400 miles away to Japan to boot) did shock my mother into finally doing some reflecting.  My sister said she thinks my mom actually went into counseling for awhile.  Once, my mother actually tried to apologize for what she had done, saying that it "was just how people disciplined kids back then", something that is at the very least a real stretch and at most an outright delusion on her part.  Still, I give her some points for the effort.  We’ve also developed an uneasy but amicable relationship and we get together as a family several times a year to share a meal and play some boardgames.

The array of shrinks I’ve seen over the years (more on them later) all seem to think that I should just forget about the past and let it slide.  She’s made progress, they say, and what would be gained by rehashing the past?  I’m also at a loss over the situation.  If I do confront her, what outcome do I hope to achieve?  Would an apology finally let me bury this?  Am I prepared to eject her out of my life if she refuses to acknowledge her wrongdoings?  Is there any resolution that would make the situation better all these years later?

Mistress Trecia had one idea that had actually never occurred to me - using face slapping in a session to try and take back some of the emotional turmoil I suffered.  I don’t know if that will accomplish anything, but admit that I really won’t know until that first blow lands on my face.  Part of me thinks it will just be typical punishment like a flogger or crop, but something tells me there is a walled-up dam of emotion there just waiting for the proper catalyst to finally burst.

I’ve been wrestling with these issues for almost 27 years now, so I don’t ever expect a solution to just fall out of the sky and am fully prepared for these things to go unanswered long after my mom is gone.  Hopefully, I will eventually find a way to make peace with this part of my past.

When we last left our hero (me), I was living in Japan having the time of my life.  During that time (right around the first Gulf War), I flew back to the states long enough to get married.  From the time we were engaged to the time we were married, more than two years had passed.  During that time, we had actually seen each other a total of 27 days.  Our entire engagement was conducted via letters and tapes.  Needless to say, when we actually had to live under the same roof, our relationship changed somewhat.

Despite my best attempts to stay in Japan and bring my wife there, the Navy shipped me back stateside, dumping me in San Diego.  My wife and I got a crappy apartment and tried to figure out how to turn our virtual relationship into an actual marriage.  Not surprisingly, it didn’t really go that well.

I was extraordinarily unhappy, but rather than understanding that I was reacting to the new lack of freedom, incompatibilities between my wife and I, and the sudden responsibility of having to run a household for the first time, I instead figured my sex life was lacking in some way.  My wife and I tried some BDSM to "spice things up", but we just don’t mesh in that world in any way.

Then I started to question my very sexuality.  Could I be gay?  That would certainly explain things.  (It turns out that not only was I not very good at keeping gay relationships going either, but I also wasn’t gay.  [More on that later.])  I then thought I was a poly and that the only way I’d be happy is to start swinging.  (While this sounds like a huge leap, I will mention that I found out when I was in high school that my Mom was a bi swinger, something that just added to my heap of sexual identity problems.)

Back then in the dark days before the Internet, you could socialize with people on-line by connecting your computer to your phone line and dialing into a Bulletin Board System.  One of San Diego’s most popular spots was called "Heart On San Diego".  (Subtley was not their strong suit.)  My wife and I both started chatting with folks and I became more and more convinced that swinging was the answer to our problems.

My wife, in the single most selfless act I’ve ever seen, started trying to find a compatible couple.  Enter Tracie and Randy.  They were both swingers that lived near us, were a former Navy family, and were both interested in D/s play as Dominants.  This was the perfect arrangement!  My wife set up a date and we met them at their house.

After a dinner and some mild chit chat, we wound up in the living room, me sitting on the couch with Tracie and my wife sitting with Randy.  It only took a few minutes, but my wife’s good graces wore out and she demanded that I take her home.

In the car, we fought.  And I mean FOUGHT!  We must have been a sight, the two of us screaming at each other at the top of our lungs as we cruised home down the 805. 

It was then that I did something that has become the biggest regret of my life.

I dropped my wife off and went back to "play".

Yeah, I know.

Tracie and Randy (who asked to be called Mistress and Master) tied me up and we played all night long.  It was my first consensual "bi" experience and first D/s "session".  The fact that I was nervous and a whirlwind of completely screwed up emotions at the time, coupled with Tracie and Randy’s inexperience, meant that I still had not discovered the magic that is subspace.  I still had a really good time, though, and the sex was fantastic.

As you can probably imagine, the aftermath of that experience was pretty extreme.  Initially, I told my wife that I had just crashed on their couch and nothing happened.  Two months later, I confessed the truth and she left, taking our car and driving back to Chicago.  Shortly thereafter, the Navy decommissioned the command I was working for and I was offered an early out.  I took it (along with a tidy pay bonus) and picked up a Civil Service position doing computer work on the base.  My salary was about three times that of my Navy pay, so I quickly moved into a better apartment and started to attend parties thrown by various swingers groups around town.

At a party two months later, my life would be irrevocably changed when I met Mistress Debbie. 

To be continued…

I was feeling kind of blah this morning, so I decided to take a sick day and just chill at home.  Of course, Mistress had different ideas for me.  First of all, she had another list of things she needed done for her web sites.  Then, I had some work to do learning more about building in Second Life as another step toward helping fulfil Mistress’s goals there.

Things really got interesting, however, when Mistress messaged me to say "I am changing things up.  I want you to tease my cock all day."  Her order sounded pretty simple:  cum at least three times, but not more than once per hour, and keep my cock hard all day.  As with most things Mistress tasks me with, this was an incredible challenge. 
What made it more challenging is the time between when I was allowed to cum and when I was allowed to stop stroking.  Trying to type "May I stop, Mistress?" one-handed while suffering the agony of stroking my super-sensitive, post-orgasm cock was difficult to say the least.

Fortunately, Mistress allowed me to stop so I could continue my work, but would pop in now and again to tell me it was time to cum for her again.  By the third attempt, my cock was really raw.  Mistress also played an especially cruel trick on me - she told me to start stroking, then promptly went off-line.  This meant a period of time where I was hanging on the edge waiting for her return so I could have permission to finish.

I must hand it to Mistress - she really knows how to keep me on my toes.  With my daily denial devotions, I’ve been slowly training my body to get used to finding the edge of an orgasm and then backing away.  Now, all of that conditioning I’ve done has been completely reset thanks to today’s need to force one orgasm after another.

I have been forbidden to do any touching at all tomorrow which, considering the raw and abused state Mistress’s cock is in right now, should be the easiest thing Mistress has asked me to do yet.

While my day of service was fantastic, it can’t beat the buzz I’m still feeling from yesterday’s discussion about my trip to meet Mistress in person.  If everything goes as planned, I will be up to see her during the last week of March.  I spent a good deal of time last night not only working out travel arrangements but also selecting the extravagant collection of gifts I plan to bring as a tribute.  Since I enjoy bestowing gifts upon Mistress as a way of showing respect and returning the joy I get from my time in subspace, I have been keeping notes during our talks and sessions for gift ideas based on things Mistress has wanted or would enjoy.  (There is nothing better than someone saying "I really wish I had…" and then you showing up with one tied in a bow.)

I can’t wait for the chance to kneel at Mistress’s feet in person and show my gratitude for all of the positive things that our relationship has brought me in the past two weeks.

Like any self-respecting geek, I’ve known about Second Life (SL) since its inception.  I’ve never really been inclined to participate, however, because it seemed like a "massively multiplayer" game with all the game removed, all filler and no meat.  During my first 30 minutes exploring the world, I realized how wrong I was.

Of course, it also didn’t take more than 30 minutes to accidentally stumble into SL’s vast and diverse BDSM community.

Mistress Trecia has been a member of SL for some time now and told me about her dream to have her own virtual estate, complete with castle and a stable of boys to bend to her every whim.  With my technical and artistic bents, I figured a fitting tribute to Mistress would be to use my talents make her dream come true and started learning about what makes SL tick.

After about a week of poking around, Mistress asked me to give her a tour of the spots I found.  We did a little wandering around, but eventually found ourselves at a place simply known as "The Dungeon", a showroom of bondage equipment sponsored by a popular vendor.  Mistress had me demonstrate many of the gear that was there, but then she found a devious combination tucked away in a corner.

Adjacent to each other were a kneeling rack and a fucking machine and it didn’t take Mistress’s tormenting mind long to figure out the perfect combination - her poor boy chained to the rack, teased and tormented, then forced to watch Mistress pleasure herself on the machine.

Mistress ordered me to remove my clothes and gave me a penis to wear.  (In SL, avatars are created naked, but have no genitalia.)  The penis she gave me, however, was very special gadget build especially for Denial Dommes.  Once she had registered herself as its owner, she gained totally control over my new cock.  She could then tell it what she was doing (stroke, lick) and the cock would describe to me in graphic detail was was happening.  ("[Mistress]’s hand, slick and wet with baby oil, grasps your cock and slowly teases it with gentle strokes.")  The cock kept track of my arousal level and eventually appended "You are so frustrated, you begin to cry" to each statement.  Mistress also set a "denial timeout" to basically force my virtual self to ride the edge of orgasm for as long as she demanded.

As this was going on, Mistress climbed aboard the fucking machine.  It was fully animated with sound effects, so I was treated to her avatar bucking on the saddle accompanied by loud, passionate moans and the steady buzzing of the attached vibrator.

While I entered the session very playfully, it actually ended up being a very intense experience.  Between the erotic prose, the moaning audio, and Mistress’s own descriptions of what she would do were we together in person really got to me.  By the end of the virtual session, the fronts of my PJs were soaked with pre-cum and my denial devotion that night was extremely difficult since I was almost at the edge before I even started.

The next day, I had a new determination to make Mistress’s estate happen.  While there is a selfish motive to my work, I also enjoy the thought that I will be drawing so many more unsuspecting boys into Mistress’s lair like the colorful leaves of a Venus Fly Trap.  In addition to taking a crash course in building and scripting, I’ve also started seriously scouting locations.  I found one parcel that’s a little pricey but is unbelievably gorgeous.  (It’s a small, wooded island with a waterfall that looks like something out of Exit to Eden.)

I will share pictures of the estate’s progress as it begins to take shape.

* sigh *

Cage chastity is a lot harder that it looks.  Sadly, I’m not even talking about the chastity itself but trying to get the cage locked onto my actual cock and getting it to stay there without getting gangrene or it falling off completely.

I have two main physical characteristics that are making it difficult to get a good fit.  First, I’m a pretty big guy and carry the majority of my weight in my belly meaning I don’t have a good pelvic bone seat for the cock ring to snug into.  What’s also making things tough is the fact that my penis gets really  small when it’s soft.  I’m very happy with my length and girth when it’s erect (I’d post a picture, but I’m trying to keep this blog rating at a soft "R" [no pun intended]), but it nearly completely disappears when flaccid.  Because of this, it keeps breaking out of its prison by pulling out of the back of the cage and hanging free.

I must say, my adventures thus far have been worthy of "Abbot and Costello Go Into Chastity".  The most heart-stopping of the bunch was when I was talking to my wife last night and then felt the cock cage pop off and slide down the leg of my PJs, landing on our hardwood floor with a clatter.  I quickly gave it a little side kick to slide it under the couch while saying that it’s funny how our cats leave their toys all over the place.  Holy crap, was that close…

I also thought I finally found a good fit before going to bed, but woke up at 3 a.m. with my cock hanging out of the ring and my balls painfully twisted up in the partially-loose cage.  (Ow!)

I’m ordering an attachment for the cage that’s supposed to help in these situations.  The Points of Intrigue give the skin around the penis something to grab onto to make it difficult to escape out the back.  (They also supposedly get interesting if you start to get erect while in the cage.)  They should arrive by Friday, so hopefully I’ll be fully locked away by this weekend.

Mistress has been extremely supportive during my frustration in trying to fulfill her wishes, but I still can’t help feeling that I’m letting her down.  Now that I’ve set my body and mind on this extreme level of devotion, anything less feels like a cop out.

Of course, once again I find myself looking at the calendar and realising it was 13 days ago today when I first met Mistress Trecia and am amazed at just how willing I’ve been and how comfortable it feels to be back into this role.  I’m starting to realize that this is as much a part of my sexuality as being straight or gay and that I’ll have to deal with it as such, something that will include an uneasy showdown with my wife. 

In the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy the comfort of finally being home.  (Well, that and the frustration of trying to cage a wild animal.  Get back in the cage, you bastard!)