Amends

I admit, that last post was really about what I wanted to write. And, while I appreciate the depth that it presents about our relationship, it was a departure from the original intent of this blog. The whole point really, was always to please him. And in truth, that is my entire life.

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As he fucked me the other morning he quietly said:

“I am just using you to find the pussy I actually want to fuck.”

This relates to our latest…side project.  I am required to write women on Tinder, on his behalf, and line up his social calendar of dates.

I have unfortunately not been as successful as he would like.  Which, as per our usual line of sexy talk, is typical because I always fuck everything up.

He has had one quasi-sexy date, and one that went the way of many internet dates (there was false advertising).  So I’m not doing well.

I will report back if I ever manage to get him the things that he wants.

I’m trying so hard.

Malleable

This is not a linear narrative.  It also is, despite its truth, incomplete.  Even incomplete in all the sexy details.  So much is unwritten.   I find myself wanting to detail some of those left behind moments.  I want to continue this journey and this exploration, here.

After that desperately sad conclusion, you may have found yourself idly wondering, is that really it?  Or perhaps not, perhaps my terrible story was convincingly bleak, that you were sure this blog would never be updated again.

So what comes from this incomplete accounting of what is a real life?  What has happened since May is…accurately an evolution.  An evolution that is positive, sexy and incredibly interesting.  In some ways, life is simpler and less extravagant, in other ways more complex and stranger.   I want to write about it.  I also want to write about some of those unwritten tales.   I have many times started writing, and then stopped.  Because it seems like such a big task.

How do I reassert the narrative flow, my voice, this story?  A story which will never be accurate when discussed here.  Do I continue with a flourish?  I could satisfy your curiosity about just how many rules there are, starting with Rule 7.  Do I continue with a relationship state of the union, that explains why I have a hard time remembering what Rule 7 is these days?  For the record I just looked it up and it is S-E-X-Y.  Personally, I love the idea that I am telling the truth here.  But, you, my audience, will never know THE TRUTH.  You’ll just know a slice of it.  The question of narrative honesty only matters to a point.

I don’t know exactly where to begin (again).

I will leave you with a few details.  Our story is not over.  We are still living a life. Together, but changed.   I started that older post with this thought, “He and I never intended to have the kind of relationship that we have now.”  In part, that still feels true. However, were I to write that post now, about the present, I would talk about intention.  I would talk about challenges.  I would talk about acceptance.   I would talk about malleability.

I would also tell you some sexy sexy things.

 

Evolution

Friday.

At work, numb.

Saturday.

Tears streaming down my face, cum dripping down my thighs.

Sunday.  

Sore back, a friends couch.

Monday.

The veranda, distraction.

Tuesday.

An odd unsatisfying meeting.

Wednesday.

Choking on his cock in the morning was the best part of my day.

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I confess to you, my anonymous non-existent internet audience, that he has left me.   And in so many ways, this is over.  I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to write about that, if anything.  After all, I’m not writing here to connect with friends or write about my latest work day or fight with my Mom.  I don’t owe you (whoever you are) anything.  However, this has been, in some ways, the most honest thing I’ve ever done.   So it seemed appropriate that I end the same way I started, with brutal, challenging, sometimes disturbing, honesty.

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I also am not sure how I just “move on” from all this.  I feel, in a word, owned by him.   I ceded control over the dumbest, most intimate parts of my day to him.  I find that I can’t even conduct routine tasks without constantly being reminded of his dominance over me.

I am of course free to do what I’d like now.   Yet, rather than feeling relaxed or self-righteous, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin.  It seems wrong somehow to be doing these things all on my own.  And I don’t recognize the person who does.   In some ways, I suppose all this is akin to all the feelings anyone would feel when faced with an end they are not ready for.  But, to me this feels deeply different.  The emotional and sexual side of our relationship was so explicit.  And all of this is US that I don’t merely feel sad or broken hearted…I feel…constantly confused, lost and alone.

So, we evolve.  And this sexy blog becomes a time capsule.  Maybe with a few more addendums.

Still a little unclear

Previously on Weird Sexy Hijinks, I alluded to a task I was performing.    In further pictures, I present the full extent of the thing.

At work…

Also at work…

At a bar, after work…

Also at a bar, after work…

Finally, the end of the day, at home.

So what happened next?  Still TBD I am afraid.

Current state:

There was talk of pouring that all over my face with my mouth open…

Today’s Task (In Progress)

March

Below is a text I exchanged with a friend just a little while ago (apologies for the ham-fisted editing).    And, no, that icon over there wasn’t so I could be vague about my identity.  It happens to be a photo of me in a chicken mask that is my avatar on just about everything now.

Anyhow.

The text seems fairly normal, but it represents one of my punishments for the month.  For the month of March I have to ask him for permission before I make any social plans.   This was one of those ideas of his that when it first came up, I thought it sounded, fairly innocuous, perhaps even boring.

I’ve found since we started all this, it is pretty sexy.   When I sent one of the first requests early in the month, I knew it was going to be fun.

Daddy, 

I wanted to write and ask if it is OK if I hang out with Sarah on Wednesday night?

 

Obviously no plans have been formally made, but she and I were discussing doing something after work.

 

What do you think?

 

Thanks for considering my request.  I think it helps to have your input because I am so terrible at managing my own time.

 I have to admit that in some really horny moment I might have suggested that we just make this a permanent rule.

 

Of course, I guess now is a relevant time to mention part of the reason I have been so incredibly wound up this month is that in addition to this fairly sexy task, I also can’t cum.  At all.  For the whole month of March.  I have been so stupidly horny that I got sort of angry about the whole thing earlier in the week.  I just, really want to have an orgasm.  It has been a while since I’ve wanted to so badly.  It has also been a while since he has been this serious about not letting me cum.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d say it is fairly unusual for me to be allowed to cum in any given sexual encounter.  But a month is pretty serious business.  It is also somehow worse because I know that it isn’t even a possibility for the whole month.  He isn’t going to change his mind and I’m not going to be allowed to make a mistake.

 

So, that is how my March is going so far.

Organization is Important

 

I like things to be neat and tidy.

Routine

If someone had ever EVER predicted to me that I’d have a dog crate in my apartment, and no dog…I would have thought they were talking about some other life.  I also would have been even more incredulous if they told me that I would find myself in said dog crate AND that I think it is sexy.  Yet, here we are.  The crate is unfortunately a classic BDSM discipline method.  There is so much porn involving ladies (or boys) in cages that look suspiciously like dog crates.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the crate, but it feels a bit like a guilty pleasure.   Kinky junk food in a way.

As I vaguely alluded to in the Tier 2 post, the crate is actually part of this roster of punishments I regularly get stuck with.  It is pretty funny because I more often than not engage in self-crating.  The crate actually was one of the ways that I realized I am really am submissive (a topic for another time).  Hopping into that closed tight environment is so relaxing.  I have actually fallen asleep in there once.

Interested in photo documentation?

Rule 6

Rule 6 is probably one of the ones I am most successful at.  It is also one of those ones that in this context will seem sexy (I think) it also just makes for good relationship behavior generally.

Rule 6:  I must thank him for paying attention to me, sexually or otherwise.

Rule 6.1:  I must always explicitly thank him for orgasms and for allowing me to suck his cock.

Now that I’ve explained the difference between a Tier 2 and an infraction, you’ll note that this one carries with it a heavier penalty for non-compliance.  As a point of interest though, since we began tracking rule failures as we do now, I have only incurred one infraction for thanking.  So, I am fairly compliant.

This rule does result in a lot of thanking.  Piles of it!  I typically thank him for kissing me for instance.  I also thank him pretty regularly throughout the day because it is one of the metrics we’re capturing on the performance monitoring.  The metric being, hours since last thanking.  The more recent the thankfulness, the higher the score.

This rule is also a very direct example of how our particular flavor of kink is all about bending reality.  It has turned something as mundane as thanking someone for being kind or attentive, into a sexy thing.  Mundane with bonus structure and terrible consequences for not following through.   Mundane with a side order of humiliation.  How ridiculous is it that I have to thank him for the privilege of giving him a blowjob?  Ridiculously sexy!

I am of course, being fairly flip about it all.  But, that last paragraph really illustrates a truth about why this works (for us anyhow).

Rule 5

Rule 5:  I will address him as Daddy.

Rule 5.1:  Whenever making a request of him I must address him as Daddy.

Rule 5.2:If I do not address him correctly, I must complete a Tier 2 punishment.

I have been stalled a bit on the rules posts because I honestly didn’t want to discuss this one at all.  The Daddy THING is just so … trite.  To be clear, we are not Daddy/Little Girl people.  At all.  We don’t have an incest kink and in truth, I think the actual practice of this rule annoys us both.  I’m fairly certain he doesn’t love me calling him Daddy and I know for a fact I hate saying it.  As a  matter of fact, I think we both hate it enough that we don’t really follow/enforce it a as rigorously as other rules.

In fact, I’d say the place where this rule typically makes its appearance is related to Rule 2.3.  Rule 2.3 requires that I ask permission before using the bathroom when he and I are together.  Thus, to really make that request, it has to include … Daddy.  It is…the absolute worst.  For a while, I tried to just avoid asking permission.  That seemed better than the completely degrading prospect of uttering the phrase, “Daddy, may I please use the bathroom?”  It makes me cringe just typing it.

I think there also may have been a few times where he made me call him Daddy while he was fucking me (super terrible).   Although that doesn’t happen all that much because, see above, we kind of hate it.

As a little bit of a side note, we have actually been trying to figure this issue out for a while.  I proposed sometime last year that perhaps I shouldn’t call him by his name.  That I am not allowed to address him directly.  Hot right?  But, then the real pressing question arose of what exactly the alternatives were.  The most obvious one, I think, was Sir.  Which, kind of worked (and used to be in the previous version of Rule 5), but honestly was a little stilted.  We also had a lot of funny ideas, my favorite being Captain!  But, that was too silly.

We’ve settled (for the moment) on Daddy largely because of the high humiliation factor.    Anyhow, I digress.

I think this zone is one that we spend a lot of time in, especially me.   The act itself may not resonate as explicitly sexy.  In fact, many times, the act itself is affirmatively non-sexy.  However, relinquishing control in this way and being forced to make this terrible choice is … sexy.  And, I find I want to.

I also have a perspective on what the “right” choices are by the way.  The thing I want, is to behave in the way he wants me to.  I get immense satisfaction out of complying.  I also feel anxiety when I don’t behave in the way that will please him.  And all of that is also sexy.

But really, I don’t want to call him Daddy.