“Subspace” is a state that subs will sometimes get into during play.  Apparently, it feels really good and it’s like an out-of-body experience.  Tom has never gotten into subspace before.

I had all afternoon to play with him, so I put in a butt plug and wrapped him up in these giant, thick plastic sheets I got at the fabric store (on sale, $1/yard!).  I had him kneel on his hands and knees and duct-taped the plastic tightly around his body.  I cut a hole in the plastic for him to breathe through and then cut off the bottom of a plastic cup and shoved it through the hole.  It made him look like some futuristic mutant, with shiny plastic skin and a tube for a mouth. Then I sat down in my big comfy chair, put my feet up on him, and read my book.

After about an hour, I stoked the plastic on his back and asked him if he was doing ok.  I got some happy noises, so I grabbed my remote control and turned on the vibrator in my brand-new vibrating butt plug.  You should have seen my ottoman jump!  I bought the plug especially for this, and hadn’t told Tom what it did.  I sat there and read for a bit longer, but Tom was twitchier with the vibrator going and I wanted to be part of the fun.

I unwrapped the plastic and wrapped him back up in saran wrap. I made a hole in the wrap at the crotch and pulled everything up.  I made an impromptu cock ring my favorite way: by twining really thin rope around the base of his balls a couple hundred times.  Then I grabbed an ice cube and started running it along Tom’s balls and letting it drip on his cock.  I love the noises he makes.

Afterwards, he told me that he had gone into subspace, for the first time, when I was playing with his balls. He started to trance out again as I unwrapped him.

Woohoo!  I’ve never done that to anyone before.  It was awesome.

I’m reading through Axe’s archive. He is a great writer. I highly recommend his blog. He has a post from a while ago on playing with a woman at a private play party that I feel a little silly commenting on, since it’s old, but I’ll do so here.  Is that bad blog etiquette?

…While she was tying my ankles together I hoped she couldn’t tell how turned on I was. That hope was lost when she put her foot on my crotch and pushed me further away from the wall…

It’s possible she saw how serious I looked, I was trying to stay cool and not get too swept away…

So, the whole experience sounds really hot.  And, of course, there are different styles of submissives for different styles of dominants.  But, okay, I like it when I get lots of response.  If I tied up a guy and he wasn’t hard, wasn’t smiling, wasn’t giving any response… I’d probably untie him pretty quick, because what fun is that?

I can see why a guy wouldn’t want to get hard too easily with a stranger, since it might seem creepy.  Maybe I’m weird, but if I’m attracted to a guy, I’m flattered when he gets a hard on.

She pulled my shirt up over my shoulders exposing my back. I felt her hands run over my skin then felt a sharp punch to my back followed by a few slaps. With every punch I fought the urge to thank her for the attention.

I think he should have just thanked her.  Okay, well, Tom and I actually had to work that out.  Every time I hit him, he’d say, “Thank you, mistress!” which sometimes interrupted the flow.  So I told him to knock it off and just thank me on the particularly juicy ones.  I love it when he sort of gasps it out in this really-turned-on-and-in-pain way.  But yeah: thank you == hot.

Yesterday, Tom and I went to DeMask.  It went like this:

“Oh my God, this place is awesome.”

“Look at this, it’s so hot!”

We look at the tag.  Our eyeballs pop out of our head like cartoon characters and we both feel poor and depressed.  $200 for latex stockings?  $400 for a rubber bodice?  $1000 for a dress?  For me, “expensive” clothing is $50.

I kept thinking, “If I was doing sex work, I could afford this.  Or just have someone buy it for me.”  It’s very frustrating.  I don’t know how anyone who doesn’t do sex work affords it.

I’ve been reading a lot of Axe’s blog lately, and he talks a lot about dominant women requiring men to be sugar daddies.  I don’t (Tom certainly isn’t), but I can understand why women do.  There is just so much demand for dominant women.  When there is a choice between a hundred guys, and half of them can buy you anything that you want, well, it’s not fair to the other fifty, but it’s also really tempting.  And it’s not like all fifty well-off guys are creepy old farts.  And yes, the numbers really are like that.  I feel really bad for  submissive guys.

I decided that I’d like to live with Tom.  I miss him every night we aren’t together, and we never seem to get sick of each other.  The thing is, there are about 10 months left to Tom’s lease.  So it seemed kind of silly to ask him now.

On the other hand, I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it now, but at least there’d be a big buffer for him to get used to it.

I was really nervous about broaching it with him, it’s a big step and I’ve never lived with a boyfriend before.  As such, I figured I should pick my moment with care, making sure to ask when we weren’t stressed or around other people. So I asked him while we were waiting in line at a coffee shop.  Oh well.

I had this whole little speech planned out: “I know it’s looking ahead a bit, but I was wondering if you would like to move in with me when your lease expires it 10 months.  You don’t have to answer now, just give it some thought, etc., etc.”  Here’s how it went:

“I know it’s looking ahead a bit, but I was wondering if you’d like to move in–”

“Yes!”

[Movie kiss.]

Phew!  It turns out he’d been thinking about it for a while, but he knew how much I liked living alone so he figured he’d wait until I broached the subject.

Tom IMed me the other day, lamenting that, as a submissive, he couldn’t take me on the kinds of journeys I took him on, giving him bliss for whole days at a time.  It was a sweet sentiment, but I think he underestimates the amount of pleasure I get from being choreographer.  Like, today, I woke up, had an orgasm and a full body massage, and then went to work.  Life is rough.

A while ago, I read this quote from a dominatrix’s blog:

‘Guys like me pine for the good old days, when dommes were dommes because they were mean, and they were mean because life fucked them over and they found a way to make a few bucks fucking over the type of guys that fucked them over in the first place. They had scars from knife fights, their tattoos weren’t pictures but names of their boyfriends, if they had teeth they were crooked, and they weren’t working on their master’s degrees.’ 

This is so dumb.  The main reason being: being dominant isn’t the same as being a bitch! Christ!  A woman who wants to hurt guys because she was fucked over by life isn’t necessarily dominant (in fact, if she was fucked over by life, she probably isn’t).  As a submissive male, why not try to find a female who 1) is actually dominant, 2) you find attractive and 3) is sane?  I’m guessing that this guy gets off on this “ghetto dominatrix” thing, which is fine, but he should fucking own up to it as his personal kink, instead of saying, “Everyone else’s dominatrixes aren’t really dominant.”

Another minor points: “…they found a way to make a few bucks fucking over the type of guys that fucked them over in the first place.”  Submissive guys, as a rule, are not in the business of fucking women over.  Either these dominatrixes are seeing dominant male clients, or they are seeing subs from a different galaxy than the ones I’ve met.

Stupidest.  Thing.  Ever.  I think it annoys me so much because I am so not that type of dominant female.  I like submissive guys.  Playing with them turns me on like crazy and I prefer being affectionate and cruel to being just psychotically insane.  For instance, I like giving Tom big hugs in between caning his balls or ordering him not to move while I cover his face in kisses.  At Paddles once, I tied him up, flogged him for a while, then made out with him, then flogged him some more.  That’s just the way I like to do things.

In my never-ending mission to have 0 readers, I figured I’d totally abandon my blog for a couple weeks.  However, I think I need to make some changes here.

When I started this blog, I assumed I’d be doing sex work for a couple of years so I could live the cushy life while young and able to drink gallons without getting hangovers.  And it was all going like gangbusters, until I met the love of my life after a month and a half.  Which is pretty awesome, but I’m not sure how I feel or he feels about me doing sex work while we’re together.  I brought it up once, that I kind of missed having all this money to throw around, and he said that if it made me happy, he was okay with me doing dominatrix stuff.  So long as it wasn’t “rubbed in his face,” from which I got the subtle hint that he’d rather I not.  So… I guess I should change the title and tagline but… I live in hope that Tom will develop a cuckold fetish.  Well, not really.  Well, maybe a little.

Anyway, I finally got my catsuit!  Tom helped me slide it on and couldn’t stop touching me.  I pulled out his latex opera-length gloves.  “I want to mummify you so that there’s no skin touching skin,” I told him, and handed him the gloves.  He looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Thank you, mistress!  Could you please wait a second, mistress?”

“Um, okay.”

He turned 45 degrees, looked upwards and said, “Thank you!  Whatever I did right, thank you!”  Then he turned back to me and said, “Okay, I’m good to go.”

Hehehe.

I tied up Tom for all of last weekend.  Well, nearly all.  (I mean, I’m not going to wipe his butt for him.)  It was an awesome weekend.  

On Saturday, he was tied up an we were watching Heros.  During the intro, we were making out and we separated and I looked at him and felt, for the first time, I love him.  I didn’t want to tell him while we were watching Heros, though, because how dumb is that?

On Sunday, when we woke up, I hooked the ropes that were tying his hands together over the door and started flogging him.  I started out with a soft suede flogger that doesn’t hurt no matter how hard I hit him, and once he was “warmed up” I switched to a heavier leather one.  He loved it.  Once his butt was all rosy, I stood behind him and started doing a figure-eight pattern across his shoulders.  

He didn’t seem to be enjoying that one at all, and he suddenly said “I think I’m going to cry…”

I quickly undid his hands and we sat on the bed and hugged.  It turns out having his shoulders flogged, for some reason, upsets him a lot.  I was curious as to why, but he didn’t seem to know or want to figure it out, so I just held him close and told him it was okay and he was wonderful.  

I very gently kissed his forehead and cheeks in a way that has a lot of positive emotional impact (I’ve found).  When I began to very gently kiss his eyelids, he was like, “Now I’m crying happy tears!”

When he said that, I realized that now would be the perfect time to tell him how I felt.  I slowly kissed my way to his ear and hovered there for about thirty seconds.  I was nervous to say it, I kept opening my lips to start and then closing them.  Finally I whispered, “I love you,” in his ear.  He gasped and hugged me hard.

We hugged and kissed and just lay there nestling each other for about an hour.  Then I tied him back up and went on with our weekend!

I was going to make this guy be shot a half-dozen times instead of impaled, because I just did an impaled-on-swords cartoon. But let’s face it, swords are cooler than guns. And I think being stabbed is a lot funnier than being shot. There’s something quaint about it.