The Unkindest Cut

I often wonder where fetishes come from. I'm pretty self aware so I can pinpoint the events in my growth that led to my interests in such things as female domination, corporal punisment and submission but one I cannot place is circumcision.

The practice has always fascinated me in the same way I would eavesdrop on the child that whispered about the paddling he received for acting up the day before, the burning, guilty feeling I felt is recreated each time I submit for punishment. I remember the catch in my throat, as I received similar discipline as a youth.

I won't detail my own condition but the act of circumcision and, to a great extent, castration, has an undetermined appeal to me. It is a powerful yet needless act. Some believe it is a right of passage but every father must have his doubts when allowing his newborn to go under the knife. Some women celebrate the act and invite their friends for a social gathering while the boy bleeds and cries. Every man, cut or not, feels this fear instilled in him from a very young age. Why do so many women push for it when it is no longer necessary? Is it tradition or a method to keep the male docile from the start. Every cut man has looked down at himself and yearned to have back the piece of him that was snipped from him without consent. It's a humbling feeling, even as an adult.

I find myself envisioning a woman I date examining me, deciding I would be better off if I were trimmed, taking me in for a consultation, even gripping my hand as I go under the knife (with a female doctor, of course.)



Is there anything more femdom than a woman having her man cut just because she prefers it? I applaud any man able to go through with that, it takes a deep level of commitment and submission to take that step.

Going even further, could a man allow himself to have his testicles removed if she decided she had no more use for them and he was easier to manage without them? Would he have a say?

It's a frightening fantasy, one I hope I never have to face, but I still feel a great desire for the woman that would push her husband to such a step. The control she wields over him must be incredible. I'm sure it would be exhiliarating.

The appeal lies in the fact that the woman has so claimed ownership of a man to such a degree that she makes such a decision is the type of domme I could hope to serve one day. I only hope she would not choose such a fate for me.

Spank With Care

I thought a man's libido was supposed to lag in his thirties? Granted, I don't have the constant need to orgasm I did when I was 13- 15 (which was more of a curse). If anything, it's gotten more active.

After a difficult period following the end of my engagement and the bitter back and forth between my one time fiance, I now find it easier to date and, if I feel it is warranted, sleep with women. For a while I wasn't in the right space emotionally and must have upset the women I went out with that took my indifference to a lack on interest in them. It wasn't at all. They were beautiful, intelligent women but my heart was still healing from the fall out with the ex.

I resorted to masturbation which had lost it's flavor. I spent some time apart from my fiance before our fight and subsequent breakup and in that time I had wonderful, deeply satisfying masturbation sessions where I remember the times we slept together- exhiliarating, bed rattling, hair pulling, sheet tearing sex. Those times were over and I had to get over them. My little blonde wife to be was a memory.

Slowly I began dating. I knew no one in this city so I figured it would be preferable to spending weekends alone in my bedroom or in front of the tv. At least I could get out and see what an amazing city it is. Surprisingly all of the dates went well though I wasn't yet interested in dating. I met a lot of great women but none that inspired me enough to look forward to seeing them again and think about them when we're apart. I met one dominant woman I was very close to for some months but we seem to be growing apart. We remain as clothes friends, however.

Some time ago I wrote an ad looking for a woman that enjoys spanking men. I wasn't looking for a date or a lover, it had been a long week and I felt a good bottom burning would do me a world of good. Soon I had a response from a woman that lived fairly close. We talked for some time and I could feel myself growing more and more hesitant. Did I feel the fantasy would be more fulfilling when faced with the reality? Most likely, but like a good woman she urged me along and pushed me to meet.

When we met she treat me carefully. Taking me by the hand she led me in discussing my need for a spanking. Nervously I told her how it kept me balanced, that life had become too stressful and I felt out of sorts. In a firmer tone she suggested I take off my pants. Moments later I stood, my penis embarrassingly erect, in front of a women I had just met.

What followed was something all men dread. As adults we do our best to forget the tear soaked nights when we wail over a mother's lap, our bottoms bare and swollen while we clutch our pillow to our chest, swearing out curses to the loving woman that only wanted the best for us.

I wish I could say I had matured since then but I had not. I wailed, I kicked and I cried. She took her time, stroking my bare bottom and occasionally spreading my cheeks to tease my tightly clenched hole. I yelled and disappointed myself. I was a grown man and had taken much more strenuous whippings as a boy. Afterwards I lay there as she held me, caressed me and whispered in my ear. She only spanks me because I need it and she cares. It was just what I needed to hear and I held her tightly.

As I lay in bed that night, my bottom comfortably warm from a proper spanking at the hand of a woman that truly understands what punishment means I felt renewed.


Before


During

After

The Dominant Woman

She was young, just out of school and beyond her years. Already she was well ahead of most and steadily pursuing her career. She had written a play and seen it performed several times, even taking it to Manhattan where it had a short run. She had several plays in the works and worked for a theater company.

I met her under stange circumstances. I was perfecting my massage technique and needed a guinea pig. Massage is something I aspire to as a submissive, studying it in preparation for serving the one dominant woman I commit myself too helps until I find her. She seemed pleased with my offer and I made plans for that weekend.

Her body was tall and better built than most women. She was attractive though exotic looking, possessing features you are more likely to see in a Raphael. With my back turn she stripped down and covered herself. Leisurely oiling my hands I admired her body. Her bedroom was cozy, plastered with art reproductions, old fashioned advertisements while her music collection was full of bands I had never heard of. I felt a sense of serenity from her and slowly began lathering her bare back. I thought of nothing but the moment- slowly working the lotion into her pores and feeling her body relent under my touch.
I know the power touch can convey and pride myself in my touch. It can be wonderful to see the reaction from someone that appreciates such attention.
I undercovered her breasts, covered only by a sheet. Her nipples were wide and round. With a careful finger dipped in lotion I swirled around her growing nipple. She purred.
I unveiled her further. Her panties were modest, the kind a woman wears around the homes; thick, cotton, yet I can't ignore how they add to her beauty. Her thighs are full and smooth though I see the press of pubic hair against the material. It was obvious she was full and natural, making me yearn to reveal that side of her yet I dare not.
Her body was open to me and she made no move to stop my explorations. Carefully...so carefully I placed my open mouth against her nipples. Instantly a sigh came from her lips and I began to tease. My tongue flicked at her hardened nipple, teasing. She skin was indescribably warm and pearly smooth.
My hands were slick with lotion and I soothed it into her belly, her breasts her thighs.
We didn't kiss but she directed me further down. Understanding her need, I skinned her panties down her long legs. The scent of her sex filled my breath and I twitched in anticipation. I wore only my boxer briefs yet naked there was no doubt who was in control.
Her pubic hair was light and thick, tickling my lips as I placed several deep kisses on her opening. She was moist and warm and I felt in bliss.
I lost myself in her, teasing her lips, kissing, licking, listening to her fevered breaths. I devoted all my attention to her body. All I cared for at the moment was pleasing her. Her body was incredibly hot and I tasted her juices as they increased, drenching my chin and slipping down my throat.
She peaked as I clung to her body, my palms gripping her full bottom. As she descended from her second climax, she patted me on the head to slow me down. With a hand on my bare shoulder she bade me to stop and lay beside her.
I was aroused though made no sign of it. Though she had made no sign of her inclinations, I was slowly turning to subspace and wanted to savor the moment. We kissed briefly and forced me deeper as she suggested I leave. She was breathing heavily, her naked body beautiful in the dimmed light.
Crawling over her, I meekly found my clothes and dressed. Returning home I was filled with fantasy. I was used. Used and sent home with no regard to my own needs. I was a happy man.

I enjoyed her company and wanted to see her again, even platonically. The next weekend we met and spent the evening playing in her oversized bathtub. Sitting me on the edge, she took me in her mouth and stroked my length to bring me to an explosive release. Afterwards we made love, our skin heated from the water, our fingers fresh and pruny.

She was unlike most women, confident and strong. She was highly intelligent and made it known each time we talked. There was an feeling about her that touched my nature. She drew out my submission yet I hesitated to tell her. I was ashamed.

The next time we met she was relentless. She took orgasm after orgasm from me and climbed on top to hold my wrists to the mattress. My eyes widened in fear. Did she know?

"Don't," I begged. "You shouldn't..."
"Why?" She was teasing, playing along with me.
"Really, you don't know..."
"Don't know what?" He bare thighs stroked my body. I felt my cock jerk.
"I'm submissive." I winced my eyes, afraid of her reaction.
I could feel her smile behind my closed eyes. Her lips were inches from me. "I know. I'm dominant." She spoke in a whisper.

She had seen it and there was nothing else I could do.

It was out now and she was bolder. She straddled my face and forced my lips to her crotch. Her hairiness made her seem that much more powerful. My ignored cock struggled for attention. She rode my face to another orgasm before laying on her back.
I entered her body and it was wonderful; soft, warm and giving. Her fingers gripped the flank of my ass while her eyes held mine. "Don't come," she warned. "Not until I say so."

I had entered her many times before. Together we were adept lovers but everything had changed. She had intruded onto one of my fantasies, one even I could not admit to myself. I wanted to beg, to ask for permission. My cock needed release, I needed the emotional climax an orgasm would bring. I looked down at her, growing more excited at the sight. She was even more passionate. I had been reduced to nothing more than a masturbatory aid for her. She was using me to get off.

Later, seemingly endless minutes later I was naked on all fours. She stroked the backs of my thighs as one would a championship animal. She slapped the rump of my ass, hard but playfully, testing my strength. I huffed more from need that pain.
She spread my cheeks and I felt the color rush to my face. I silently hoped she would stay away from there. Instead she reached further down to appraise my testicles like fruit. Her hand clenched me gently but enough to cause a reaction. I twisted back and forth, instinctively protecting that which is most precious to all men.
I can't remember her words but her tone is clear. She goaded and teased, warning me and chastising me at the same time.
Her hand stroked up and down my needy shaft and I moaned with no control. It was a shameful position, being milked like an animal. I felt degraded, yet I thrilled to it. My cock lurched from her touch.
Soon, too soon, I came. She scolded me as the warm liquid spilled out my heavy shaft. It was heaven. Her hand hand continued to pump me even as she criticized me for my lack of control.

Good to be Back

Where to start...

First, it's good to be back. My computer was hit with a virus and, since I was frustrated, I quickly disabled everything and took it to a friend to fix. Friend takes his time working on it and brings it back almost two weeks later telling me there's nothing he can do with it. He installed a new desktop on it but it didn't work.
Fine, I think, I plan to buy a whole new CPU since I've got too many other things to worry about. Curiosity gets the better of me, though, and I end up taking a look at it. Some time later I've got it running almost as good as new. I've ordered some programs to help things run better and I'll be installing them when they arrive in the next few days.

I have another blog. It is much more in depth than this one and details a lot of what I've been through in the past few months. It's been a very difficult time for me but I won't get into it here. I'm considering telling the url to that blog but for now I'd just like to keep them separate. Let's just say there's been a lot of changes in my life lately.

I go looking for dominant women to date. They are not the only women I would consider but ideally that is what's best for me. I have a submissive nature that is too personal to ignore. Unfortunately, while dating, I've mostly met three kinds of dominant women;

1) The vanilla woman that likes the idea of female supremacy but doesn't completely understand it. All she knows is she gets all the attention and she doesn't have to worry as much about my needs. This ends turning her from a considerate vanilla partner to a selfish, berating, abusive woman that loses respect for the man because she doesn't understand the true ideal of submission. This breed is too common.

2) The woman that has read about female domination in magazines, the internet or movies and thinks that's what's for her. It is an easy way to get attention and men enjoy being stepped on and treated like shit. All play and no effort for her. Should I even tell you how this ends up?

3) The dominatrix that enjoys the ideal yet uses it to fulfill missing parts of herself or to balance out some great wrong that's been done to her (childhood, ex husband, etc.). Not a healthy relationship. The man always ends up being a stand in for the person she is really upset with and puts himself at risk.

Not to say all dominant women are like this. I of course know they're not and have met some that exemplified the femdomme ideal but all too often I run into those three types.

It's easy to find partners for sex and it's even easy to find a dominant woman but to find one that can meld that with a committed, caring, sincere relationship is the challenge.

Lately, because of what's been happening in my life, I'm not in the best state to be dating and have been using a lot of time to think through what I'm really looking for. That's what this blog (and my other blog to some extent) is for. I don't want to be a serial dater and I'm tired of weekend relationships.

There is much more to tell but it is late and I'm tired. Keep in touch and I'll try to keep up.

A note...

This blog is not dead.

I have been experiencing some major computer problems that are being worked on and will be back.

Just wanted to let you all know...