Dungeons of Fetlife (Part 1)

Continuation of the story I referenced about a week ago.

Upon entry to the room, I peer into the dimness, and suddenly a new scent assails my nostrils….fresh earth. “What in the world?” I think to myself as I step further inside…and just as I think that the confines of the room change; what was once stone walls and floor, and cathedral ceiling becomes a meadow…off in the distance I can see a brook, and a forest. Glancing behind me the steel banded door is still there, as if it were the door to a Star Trek holodeck, but standing there in the meadow, completely freestanding and unusual. It doesn’t move. Turning about again, I find a dirt path laid before me, curving through the meadow and leading to the forest beyond. Not to be undone, I follow it…coming to a babbling brook of the clearest water imaginable…and the path leads to a small stone bridge. Strangely enough I hear very little sound other than the brook before me…no insects, no animals, not even a creak in the woods before me. It’s all very eerie, but I don’t feel the least bit afraid…this after all is my domain…my dungeon.

Crossing the stone bridge, the dirt path resumes and the woods are closer. As I follow the path into the woods, I can see in the distance a clearing. In the clearing are a variety of wooden pieces of dungeon furniture. Made of polished maple, oak, poplar and even one of teak, they are adorned with straps of leather, coils of fresh hemp rope, and all look as they have been in place for thousands of years, but not one appears to be touched by a drop of rain. Worn, yet completely in good repair. Turning about I see a set of wooden cages, large enough to hold bipedal toys of flesh and sinew. In the furthest one is a familiar visage. Can it be? No, impossible…I lost her 14 years ago! Upon seeing me she immediately goes to her knees and bows her head. It is leathers`rose{L}, my slave…my love…the one who was collared first, and remains the one dearest to me.

I walk to the cage and my hand drops to my pocket. I hear a small jangle and as I slip my hand in I find keys where there were none before. Grasping them I pull forth two old fashioned skeleton keys, and in my heart of hearts I know that one will fit the lock of the cage before me. There’s nothing that will keep us apart now. Slipping the key into the lock, I turn it, the tumblers of the lock appear to be in good repair, and the lock snaps open, hanging on the hasp as it drops down. I open the door as I see my old leather leash appear off to my right, dangling from a hook..old, worn and still able to see the bright blue stitching that proclaims ‘Property of Leathers’, it was gifted to me over 20 years ago, and it still works just fine. Taking up the leash I open the door…the woman within rises to her feet, her head still bowed…I reach out and slide my hand under her chin…lifting it up, gazing into my rose’s eyes again…my heart skips a beat. Reaching out to her, I snap the leash onto her old collar…the one that was sent to me after she passed, the one that sits in a carved wooden box….along with a lock of her hair that I kept, to remind me always of the connection that we had…that we will always have…that will go on long past the time when both of us are done and gone. But that’s not for now, that’s for a life outside of this special Dungeon.

As the leash clicks on the collar, I can see the glint of mischief and desire in her eyes. It’s been a long time for her too, and she’s raring to go. Sliding my hand steadily up the leash almost to her collar, I grasp her arm above the elbow, assisting her to leave the cage…and walk with me…for the moment by my side but I can already sense she’s wanting to heel, I trained her and she remembers her place, remembers it well. I allow her to fall back a pace from me, giving her slack on the leash as we proceed to the polished teak cross. One of our favorites from the old play space; upon reaching it I take a step past, turn about as she joins me. Looking up into my eyes she says quietly “Master, may rose play?” I smile and nod… yes my pet, my slave..we’re going to play…it’s time to let my inner sadist out.

Knowing by now whatever I need will be provided I lift up her limbs one at a time, have her face the cross and bind them with the strong scented leather straps. Wrapping the leather about her wrists, securing them to the cross at the upper joists..then as I crouch down, past her oh so familiar bubble butt I can’t resist but to give it a quick peck…then a firm crack with the palm of my hand, causing her to jump and cry out…her raven hair cascading down her back as she arches so very nicely, wiggles and stretches out her toes, looking her over I remember every nook and cranny of her body, every nuance, every sound that she makes. Even though it’s been so long, it’s as if we haven’t been apart for a moment. Smiling I crouch and secure her ankles in a similar fashion, being sure that she’s secure, but also safe, she has the freedom of movement she requires, but in the same vein, won’t be going anywhere unless I wish her to. She’ll be flying soon enough, and riding the clouds of subspace.

Standing up once more I press myself into her…whispering into her ear the things she loves to hear, how I’m going to abuse and amuse myself with her, and she’s going to fly with me, we will soar, and she’ll be sore…but she’ll love every moment of it, even when it hurts…especially when it hurts. I can already see her body tensing, the muscles quivering under the surface of her skin. Stepping back and to the side I bring my hand down firmly on her left butt cheek with a loud crack! She doesn’t cry out. It’s a game…she’s going to test herself…and me a little as well. She was never a brat, but then again I never liked brats to begin with, a fact she understood from the first. I play heavy-handed, and she was a masochist of the first order. Remembering the game, my hand explodes on her skin…first one cheek, then the other, the skin starting to pink from the first, blows raining down with no precision whatsoever, but the beats continue with the ticking of the mental clock in my head. First left, then right…left..right…a steady staccato rhythm that begins to have her body moving, unbeknownst to herself she’s already anticipating, trying to guess where the hand is going next. Sometimes she’s right, oftentimes she’s wrong.

A random harder than usual stroke, right on her sit-spot and she grunts with the force of my hand as it impacts. I smile and grip her hair, yanking it back and press a kiss on her throat…growling into her skin as I can already smell her sweat. She leans back into me at the same time, like a good girl, grinding her cherry red ass cheeks against my leather chaps. Our natural hides meet but she gets the worst of it as her bottom is grinding against my large belt buckle. Cheeky slave, she moans out and begs for more….

Dungeons of Fetlife

Many years ago on Fetlife, a friend came up with an idea for a story of your own making. I don’t remember all of the details of how it came about, but the main gist of it was, you were led into a dungeon area of Fetlife, and from there you could craft a scenario of your own making. Past, present, future, the sky was the limit. Just write a fantasy of your own, and make it in four parts. Well, I posted mine on Fet, and there it sat for the past 8 years. So I thought I’d bring it back to my blog here, for another set of folks to enjoy.

Prologue:

Along with the rest of the guests, I’ve listened to the welcome and the description of what the whole experience is to be about. After having absorbed the information, I watch from the shadows as the others of the invited group work their way into the labyrinth, finding the rooms that best suit their needs. As I follow along at a leisurely pace, outside one door, heavily banded with iron and made of sturdy oak I hear a soft whimper. Looking down, I see a woman strapped in leather and steel, bonded to the floor in a crouched position, with her head sticking out and her tongue protruding… A boot licking station! What luck. I had my boots freshly polished this afternoon, and needed a good licker to make them sparkle, and this dungeon seems to have provided for me. It’s like the ‘Room of Requirement’ from the Harry Potter Universe. Determine what you need by thought and it will be provided for you…. Very clever Mojzis…and the always mysterious lips; hats off to you both.

Extending my left foot to the woman, she feverishly and wonderfully begins to lick steadily at the boot…her body is restrained, but not in such a way that she cannot work her tongue and head around the boot, as long as it’s kept in a suitable position to assist her. Around and around her tongue goes, over and to the sides, every now and again she pauses to take a lick of water from a replenished bowl next to her, a little trickle from some unknown source keeps the bowl fresh, and allows her to keep her tongue from getting too stained with polish, or some other detrius that might have been present. Small moans come wafting to my ears as I stand over her…watching as she studiously does her job, wondering where the dungeon found her, or was she an original part of the dungeon when it was created. Either way she finishes with one and glances up to me…coming out of my reverie I switch feet, presenting her with my right and off she goes again, lapping, licking, tonguing the leather as if it was her very last meal. She’s so good, I almost forget why I’m here.

As she completes her task, I drop down to one knee…giving her a tickle along the side of her head, and working down under her chin letting her know that I approved of her work. A soft voice wafts up, nearly breathless but completely understandable..she says to me…”thank You, Sir” as I rise up once more and open the door before me, crossing the threshold and leaving her behind for the next adventure.

(to be continued…)

When BDSM & your Marriage Don’t Mesh

I’ve been following a certain Dominant for about a month, and he’s been very prolific in his postings. However, within the last few days, he suddenly went completely silent. Not only on my feed, but his Instagram account disappeared as well. I wasn’t sure why (it could easily be any number of reasons) but with every blogger, there are occasional dry spells. It’s just the ebb and flow of the writing process, usually.

As it turned out, on my feed is/was one of his submissives, and she posted an update yesterday explaining the silence. Apparently, he has/had an understanding with his (I’m guessing vanilla?) spouse about his BDSM activities. It basically said if there came a time when she was no longer comfortable with what he was doing, he’d stop. And apparently, that time has arrived, as he informed his online submissive that he would no longer be able to be her Dominant and that he was discontinuing their relationship. Which is an honorable thing to do, but on the other hand it’s pretty devastating for the other person in the situation, as one might imagine.

Sure. we’re all grown-ups here, and in her own blog post, she stated that she went into the whole situation with open eyes, understanding that this could happen at some point. Of course, no one expects the worst to happen, even when it does. I haven’t yet posted a reply to her post, but will soon after I post this. For support, if for no other reason. Just reading about it pains me, as I have my own agreement with my wife that is similar to this.

Without going into too much detail, my wife and I decided early on when our relationship shifted that we would ‘open’ our marriage to outside persons of interest. When we first got married, we were monogamous and things were pretty squared away in the BDSM realm. Then one of us (yes, you guessed it, me) decided we weren’t the way we felt when things began. Which threw a wrench into our relationship. The bones of the marriage were still there, but the BDSM component couldn’t continue without some tinkering.

So, after a long and detailed conversation (certainly more than a few tears were shed) it was decided we were going to stay married, we loved one another too much to just chuck the whole thing, BUT we both wanted to have BDSM in our lives, so we constructed our compromise. Open the marriage a crack, and let others in, however, there wouldn’t be any fluid exchange between those partners. Anyone who wished to enter into the marriage would have to be aware of that ironclad detail. If they weren’t ok with it, then the door was clearly marked.

It’s been 30 years now and the compromise is working, though it’s had hiccups along the way. The vast majority of my BDSM relationships have been long-distance, including my current one. My wife has had long-distance relationships for the most part, though there was one submissive who lived with us for about a month. He was mostly a ‘service submissive’ and did chores around the house, and was a pain junky, so there were a few times I ‘helped’ out when my wife was unable to swing a flogger or paddle with sufficient force to satisfy his needs. Once that task was accomplished, I left the playroom, I wasn’t interested in staying to watch.

I’m sure by now (props if you’re still reading) you’re more than likely wondering when I’m going to bring this bird in to land. Here’s the landing strip. Marriages and BDSM are a volatile combination. Especially when they get opened up to exterior players. I’m not saying ‘my way is best’, because it isn’t. It doesn’t apply to everyone else’s marriage, it works for mine. Certainly, my wife tomorrow could say ‘I think I’ve been patient enough, it’s time for you to come back to me and rescind our agreement.’ But thus far she hasn’t gone to that extreme. Yes, she essentially ‘retired’ from the scene many moons ago, but the agreement didn’t say once Partner A stops, Partner B stops as well. So long as we both adhere to the agreement, it continues on. Again, this doesn’t work for everyone.

I absolutely feel terrible for both of these people.. I didn’t know either of them for very long, and while their relationship has ended, I can only hope they both can continue on and make post-relationship life work.

Dungeon Upgrade

[Cleaning up the Draft folder.  This one I started in July of last year…..]

Ever have one of those brainstorms where you think to yourself “wouldn’t it be great if I had the time, money and space to do…..something”?  Yeah, me too.  Though I have the time, I don’t yet have the money or space to culminate my dreams in that particular venue.  So I have to make do.

Essentially what I have right now is a multi-use area that is in the basement of my 19th century house. While the walls are made of fieldstone (and a very ancient form of mortar) someone in their wisdom decided to put particleboard over it probably somewhere in the 1960s to make an ad-hoc workshop and pesudo man-cave. The things that were left behind by the previous owners suggest that. Low ceilings, exposed joists, it’s not exactly what one would want for a play area. Certainly Melanie Rose and her merry band of contractors would probably manage to have a field day with this space. I, am not them, nor do I have an unlimited budget to make my dreams come true. In essence, I’m going to be doing the best I can with a lot less.

At present my wife uses the area for her recumbent bike, and at times I’ve had a weight bench there, as well as my spanking bench that I bought in the early 2000s on eBay. More than one person either working on the house or servicing the furnace has confused it with a piece of exercise equipment, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them what it was really for. I’ve dabbled with the idea of getting another bit of kink furniture, but with the limited space it really doesn’t make much sense. I thought about getting a cut-down version of a St. Andrew’s cross, but the few kinky furniture builders I contacted wanted very expensive prices for what essentially would be a smaller size of a standard cross.

Even though I’ve had many months and years to think about reorienting the area for kink play, there’s just a lack of actual space, and limited ability to rearrange things semi-permanently for my needs. Too, it’s somewhat damp at times, so I can’t store my toys down there (way too much invested to do that, I’ve actually been rather fortunate my spanking bench hasn’t mildewed over the years), and putting up things like sconces, or kink-type decorations would be a rather large red flag for any repair folks that might have need to access the basement.

Over the years I’ve thought about the upstairs bedroom that we used to use for guests. There are 2 bedrooms there, but one is used for storage, and it has a rather low ceiling to begin with, and the other bedroom is mostly taken up by a large queen size brass bed. So I’m back to considering the basement.

It’s really been my ‘go-to’ playspace over the years. In the last year my Pet and I have done some cleaning and rearranging, but I’d really like to make it less like a part of the basement and more of a dedicated space. The only problem being my wife uses it as the idea place for her indoor bike riding… Can’t very well have both things going on in the same small square footage. So the conundrum remains.

Perhaps I do need a kinky contractor.

Keep kink in your heart

It’s January, 2024. It will be several months before my pet can return from VA to visit. In the meantime, I have to keep occupied and attempt to keep things fresh for when she does arrive. Which is a tall order when you’re basically in a holding pattern until that occurs.

In the interim, I have a few things I’m needing to do with the house to get things ready for when she does arrive. The area of the basement where we normally play needs a bit of a ‘spruce-up’ and I need to dig into my toy collection and re-catalog everything I have, with the intent of paring down some of the items that are redundant, (like the 4 sets of hospital restraints I bought on eBay 10 plus years ago) and the metal restraints that probably won’t fit her. No point in holding onto them, they take up space and might be better served in someone else’s care.

Other parts of the house need sprucing up as well. My learned habit of ‘pack-ratting’ has gotten out of hand to the point where every room in the house pretty much has a pile of this or that in it and needs to be pared down, donated, tossed or otherwise dealt with. Definitely don’t want to be on a future episode of ‘Hoarders’.

I’ve been thinking about posting more in this blog about my kink journey, where I came from, where I’ve been and where I plan on going. My girl and I have been conversing about ‘what comes after’ when we’re finally under the same roof, so it might be a good idea to catalog that, and have something to rely on when the time comes. Even though my far-flung off plans for the future might have to be changed in 10-15 years, depending on housing costs, retirement assets and the like. There are certain areas of this country where kink isn’t exactly understood (or welcome), so that has to be factored in as well. So, there’s something else for me to do.

Just a little something something about thoughts that have been percolating in my brain of late. I didn’t blog much in 2023, having switched to a new hosting service due to my last one increasing costs by 400% (still think that was ridiculous) caused more angst that I really wanted (basically had to create 2 established blogs from scratch). We’re in a new year, so why not turn over a new leaf? Why indeed. We’ll see how successful I am.

T’was the Kinky Night Before Christmas

A Kinky Night before Christmas

Note: This isn’t my writing, I remember reading this on the alt.sex.bondage Usenet newsgroup. (Yeah, I’m that old)  This was originally written by Steven S. Davis, and as Tiny Tim would say God Bless ‘Im!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a sound escaped from any gagged mouth;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
as the Dom preferred to crop legs that were bare,
and all hoped that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The bottoms were wrapped up all snug in their beds,
While dreams of endorphins whirled in their heads;
And my slave in her harness, and I in my hood,
were resting from a caning with hickory wood,
When outside the house there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
then thought better of it and threw on my wrap.
The moon on the breast of the now-dozing sub
had a luster that distracted from objects above,
But still to my wandering eyes did appear
a miniature sleigh, and eight horny dears,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than wannas his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, LASHER! now, jessie! now, topazz and VIXEN!
On, JANIS! on CASSI! on ELVISH and IAN!
To the Top of the house we bring toys for all!
Now go down and don’t crash and try to not stall !”

As good slaves they altered the course of their flight,
like eight tails towards a target in a pattern tight,
And came down near the chimney with it’s open flue,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard over my head,
The rattling chains of eight harnessed bipeds,
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came, loosely self-bound.

He was dressed in clear latex, from his head to his foot,
Which protected his person from the ashes and soot;
His bundle was bulging with toys so wonderfully mean,
And he looked like a kitcher planning a very long scene.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his welts how merry!
And his cheeks were so rosy, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as wet as the snow.
The handle of a whip he held tight in his teeth,
And the tails draped over his neck like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed as my knees turned to jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And he placed new Journal Entries on my reading shelf;
A wink of his eye and a silent nod of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing NC to dread;
He spoke not a word, but did just as he was tasked,
And filled the toy chest with all for which we had asked,
Then grabbing his harness and inserting his toes,
And giving a tug, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whipping,
And away they all flew lest their skin take a stripping,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
A KINK-FILLED HOLIDAY TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!!

Keep the Holidays Merry

We’re deep in the Christmas season, and my pet and I are still long distance.  The fact of the matter is, for the forseeable future that’s going to remain the case.  Even so, we try to celebrate the holidays best that we can, maintaining our connection and checking off another season til we can see one another again.

Be that as it may, we make every attempt to keep our dynamic fresh.  We write one another every day, there are other means of communicating that we make use of, phone calls, texts and even video chats every now and again, along with pictures, many many pictures sent hither and yon.  We’ve been managing to keep ourselves occupied with this for nearly 7 years now.  Our goal is for one day to be together, but until then, this is what we have.

 

Broken Links

While I was researching one of my recent posts, I discovered that a fair few places that I had used over the years to purchase items are no longer viable.  The websites are gone, the people that ran them seem to be no longer in the scene, or just gave up on the whole business side of it, because of, oh, I dunno, reasons?

Add in the fact that it’s getting harder and harder to find new businesses that have the quality of product to replace the ones that have gone by the wayside.  Sure, I could shop at established places like The Stockroom, or Damax, but the former does tend to import a good amount of their product from China, or it’s mass produced, so therefore a lesser quality (think Chinese steel) and the latter is overseas, just in the other direction.  And a bit pricier because of location, they’re usually one offs, and I’m probably only going to order one of his wares in the near future.  And don’t get me started on Swedish Collar.

Etsy is definitely a possibility, considering that a lot of people go there to sell their wares, but you have to take a chance with quality as you really don’t know the people, feedback on the reviews can be spotty, so it’s a lot like Internet dating anymore.  Separating the wheat from the chaff can be an expensive prospect.  Honestly, right now about the only things I’d be in the market for would be furniture for the future (BDSM variety) and some metal toys. 

Fortunately, none of the big box home improvement stores will be going out of business anytime soon, and repurposing stuff found there is relatively easy.  It doesn’t always even require the ability to weld.  Kink(dot)com managed to prove with plumbing supplies, one could easily construct a bondage frame that would be inexpensive, very adaptable, and fit almost anyone.  Put it in a room where it wasn’t a problem screwing the contraption into the floor and you’re all set.

I’m certainly not saying there aren’t quality vendors anymore.  It’s just I’m finding the ones I’ve been familiar with, are now gone.  But many more have taken their place, and in spite of the market being swamped with a lot of less than stellar quality wares, the fact that BDSM is becoming more mainstream does mean that there will be more stuff to choose from in the future.  One just has to shop wisely.

 

Lament

lament  [ləˈment] - noun
1. an expression of regret or disappointment

Of all of the kink-related toys that I’ve either purchased or acquired over the years, I would have to say far and away my collection of floggers are my most prized.  That being said, I somewhat regret choosing the Heartwood elk flogger instead of the Heartwood Leather Pride deer flogger when my second submissive and I parted ways.

Now this is going back more than twenty years, mind you.  The only flogger that I own/co-own that’s older than that is the flogger my wife and I received as a wedding present in 1993.  Yes, from a kinky friend.  That one is purple and was made by a rather famous (for the scene) crafter by the name of Metz.  She is long since retired now.

I was thinking about them the other day when I messaged one of my scene friends that had promised me many years ago to make another Leather Pride flogger just like the one that I passed up on.  I had done some work for her, and we were going to trade expertise.  She’d make me a flogger in partial payment for what I had done for her electronically.  Only, she was in the process of caring for her aged mother, so she wasn’t able to hold up her end of the bargain.  And now I discovered that the website that she had been holding on to for possibly restarting the business lapsed in payment and was gobbled up by a Chinese holding company.  And even worse.  I just happened to look at her profile on FB, did a little digging into it, and discovered that she passed away in 2021.  Well, that does explain why she went silent.  RIP my friend.

Another lament.