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RULES FOR POSTING COMMENTS: This blog is meant to be interactive. Please utilize the comment feature to respond to posts that prompt a reaction. You do not have to agree with me to post, but I do ask that your comment pertain to the post itself. I also ask that "anonymous" guests attach some sort of name to their comments so readers can tell everyone apart. (If you cannot follow these simple rules, your post may be DELETED or at the very least mocked for the entertainment of those who can respect my guidelines.)

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Nay or Neigh?

When you have a warped sense of humor and enjoy sometimes just seeing anthropomorphized (yes Spellcheck, another word you need to learn) animals in certain situations, it's just a matter of time before you work one into a kinky cartoon:

No clever quip.....just an animal absurdity......but it still makes me smile....and this was years before "Bojack Horseman".

But, for information on the real "Berkley Horse"  (without the extra 'e')..........


.......just (click here).

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Gor

(.....as opposed to "gore".......as in Al ______, ______ Vidal, or the crazy stuff I make for Halloween.) 

Gor, or the Gorean Lifestyle, is still around after all these years. (link >Gorean Lifestyle)And while I am definitely a "to each their own" sort of guy, I also LOVE to poke fun at things....and Gor has plenty to poke fun at.  Besides the whole otherworldly realm of Gor, there's also a fair bit of misogyny in the Gorean tradition......which to me evokes more similarity to religion than kink......but that's just me. Anyway, Goreans always struck me as former sci-fi geeks with an overactive and decidedly kinky libido, who after years of resenting their controlling mothers....despite living in their basements well into adulthood......tossed out their comic books, left home, took up the mantle of "master" and found themselves a nice, kinky girl with abysmally low self-esteem.  And it was in that vein that I drew this, back in the days when Star Trek's NEXT GENERATION was very popular:


Admittedly one of my more acerbic cartoons, but still fun.

It is one of my personal favorites and still rings true today, even if the 'Dr. Crusher' reference is a bit dated. After all Trekkers are still around...and so are Goreans!

(If you are a Gorean and object to anything I wrote here, feel free to leave a comment.....but please understand that this is meant as a joke and I really, really, REALLY don't care if a person chooses to live as a Gorean. That said, I will probably respond to any detailed, Gorean-based objections with more joking.)

Monday, January 29, 2018

OUCH!

So after the start of the sequential punishment that Ana's high number for 2017's behavior necessitated, we hit two days of postponements due to various factors. Yesterday however, Rosa was determined to get back on track and told me so when we got up what to expect some time that day: a DOUBLE installment.......to make up for the lost sessions.


In my case there was no way to honorably use a safeword to wrangle out of what was heading my way.

So at one point early last evening, Rosa summoned me for my spanking, and told me she would definitely do 300 and if she wasn't tired after that, she'd do another round immediately thereafter. The first couple of hundred were hard to take without a lot of wriggling and clenching......especially the first 50! But after about 200 or 225, I began to 'numb out' enough to take the rest without much of a fuss. 

After Rosa said the first 300 had been completed, she announced that she was feeling quite ready to continue..............and proceeded to give me another 400 on top of what I already got! That's a single spanking of 700 whacks!

Now whenever I've gotten a long marathon like this the same thing usually always happens: as already stated the first 50 are pure hell, the next hundred or so are just plain bad, and then it gets easier. But then, if it's a really long spanking like this one, somewhere around 500 or so, the numbness gives way to a profound rawness. It's like persistence manages to erode the numbness away so that the fires again begin to build.  The last hundred or so hurt.....but differently than the earlier ones that stung. Those previous ones hurt more due to impact sting, but these last ones feel like abrasive burning.

One of the things about marathon spankings that amuse me is when I read people dismissing long paddlings like this as unbelievable fantasy. Fantasy, huh? To quote Chief Brody in Jaws, "how about you come down here and chum this shit for a while?"


Anyway, after she was done, Rosa had another of her very smug smiles of self-contentment and again teased me that I had probably not "seen that coming". Despite my flaming behind, I still managed to joke that "of course I didn't. I was face down over your lap."

Today I am pretty tender.......and a little more than a bit nervous about any installments coming today. There's still 775 more on Ana's slip coming my way........and then it will be Marta and Nickki's turn to contribute!

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Non-kinky leatherwork

This past week I tried my hand at some simple leatherwork in an attempt to make some items for my Medieval and Renaissance collection. Using some old belts, scrap leather and rivet studs, this is what I ended up with:


I cannot take credit for the scabbard or mace.....but everything else.....including that lovely flail.....was made by little ol' me.

My annual RenFaire is not for many months, but gifts from both my son (the mace) and Ana (a chain mail coif not shown) inspired me to change my 'look' for this year to one more Medieval. I therefore wished to make a very common Medieval "double-wrap" belt to hold a very nice falchion (yes Spellcheck, that's a real word) I have. I also decided to make a leather pouch and holders for the mace and flail.

The holders were fun and somewhat easy, but the pouch took a bit of thought since I was using scraps and not working from a pattern. That said, I think it came out pretty good for a first attempt.

I already talked with Rosa and she is going to collaborate with me on a very authentic-looking tunic for the period. I also managed to get a very good deal on a Medieval long belt on Ebay.....and I am going to decorate it myself with some conchos (yes, Spellcheck, that's a legitimate word too) and studs. I am just waiting for the conchos to arrive from China. 

But all this prompted another thought for me: how cool would it be to make a historically accurate and gently functioning Medieval crossbow (arbalest) ?

I am already planning that out using this original as a rough guide, so stay tuned!



Saturday, January 27, 2018

Pool

Rosa and I had an old friend of ours over last night for an impromptu evening of drinks, snacks, and pool. It was a lot of fun and the pool playing made me think that perhaps I'd post another of the "lost cartoons" today. It is actually the one that I went looking for a while back that led to the discovery that not all of the cartoons had been posted on my main website. (linked in the upper right margin of this page. Same name: Collected Submissions) In fact, there's already a "pool story" posted there. It is a f/f coming of age story with an age reversal dynamic that centers around a babysitter's love of pool and her too-old-to-be-babysat charge who ultimately ends up in charge. It's called "Deep Pockets".



Friday, January 26, 2018

"Everything old.....

.....is new again."----Peter Allen

I was going to refer someone to an old cartoon of mine and when I went to link it from the main website I realized it wasn't there. Then I looked through what was there and started asking myself..."but where's the one I did about this?" & "where's the one I did about that?" Very soon I came to realize that when I loaded my cartoons onto the main site.....I NEVER LOADED THEM ALL!

Today I went through my collection and started to photograph the ones I missed. (There were quite a few!) Next week I'm going to try to get them loaded onto the site and probably reorganize how they are listed. I will put up an announcement here when the upload is complete. In the meantime, here's a sample of one of the missing cartoons: (just click it to see it full size)



Can you imagine if your vanilla friends were the minority and all the raunchy talk that goes on among guys and among girls was PRIMARILY kinky? I drew this as a sort of wishful revenge for all the times I had to hold back on saying what I really wanted due to the vanilla tastes of the people around me. The good thing is as time went on I just decided to be more open no matter what.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

The 2017/2018 Punishment

As described in "The Committee Reconvenes", Rosa and I are repeating last year's policy of having three of our most trusted and DD-friendly family members/friends come up with a suggested close-out punishment for any and all misbehaviors from 2017 plus a "warning to behave" spanking to usher in 2018.

While Ana, Marta, and Nickki all very quickly agreed to participate again, so far only Ana has actually turned in a slip. And she did so promptly on New Year's Eve:

Not as bad as last year......but still no picnic to be sure.

On Sunday, Rosa suggested we finally get things going with this since we've been much more lax about executing this than last year where we started right in at the beginning of the month. She looked again at her daughter's recommendations and decided to reverse order and start with the "warning spanking" for 2018 of 365 smacks.

It was a fairly crisp punishment since, despite the playful idea behind a 'spanking by committee' these are meant as genuine punishments rather than play-penalties.

Not us (obviously) but a VERY accurate representation of how 90% of our punishments are done.

Later, by coincidence, Marta stopped by with her young granddaughters and it gave me and Rosa an opportunity to remind her that we were waiting for her slip. Marta assured us with a big grin and chuckle that it would be forthcoming.

Nickki has been VERY preoccupied with a load of stuff that has overshadowed her earlier agreement to also submit an appropriate punishment slip. But hopefully that too will change soon. In the meantime we have plenty to deal with just from Ana's 2017 punishment alone........1825 smacks!!!! 

As with last year, Rosa has decided to do these in installments of between 250 to 300 or more over the course of several days. (The last time she did this,  I was a very sorry, sore, and humble boy by the time she was done! And I don't think this time will be very different.)


Monday, January 22, 2018

Comment loading speed.....

....has been fixed. ( which if you are a blog commenter, you have probably already noticed, and if you are just a non-participating lurker you might not have noticed. Oh and if you are the latter may I also add.......'bite me'? ) ;-)


Not when it comes to loading speeds! In fact in that instance the opposite is true.

So, on behalf of the paltry handful of bloggers from all over the world who persistently pestered  Blogger for a solution to the 'comment load lag time' issue on their "help" forum.........YOUR'E WELCOME!!!!!

(You can send me send me whatever tokens of your appreciation your hearts and budgets can manage. )


  


Friday, January 19, 2018

More origins

In a past post, I described how my penchant for having my temperature taken rectally began in childhood. But lubed-up thermometers were not the only things that made their way up my bottom due to the good intentions of my mother. A bout of constipation could easily result in me having a suppository or enema employed if other, non-invasive methods failed.

To be clear, again remember we are talking about the mid ‘60’s in a fairly conservative, Polish household…………….complete with immigrant grandparents living just one floor below us. Despite the ‘changing times’, at that moment the 1960’s felt more like the 1950’s than the 1970’s. Suffice it to say, I was not alone in suffering these clinical indignities. I remember my mother even telling other women over the phone that she had to go soon because she needed to give me an enema………...right with me playing nearby to hear it!


When an impending enema is no secret to the world around you.

Now in my home, constipation sort of ran in the family……...probably due to our diet. My mother especially was a chronic sufferer throughout her life and would often use similar methods  herself…….so it only made sense that if her little boy was having a difficult time pooping, she’d resort to the same techniques she knew worked for her.

Once constipation was detected by determining when the last time I pooed was, a routine of ever-more-drastic measures ensued, beginning innocently enough with …….prune juice!  If that didn’t work then sometimes my Mom would give me some Feenamint gum (a laxative). And if after a while, that didn’t do the trick…….then I could expect either a suppository or enema. 
  
Due to their convenience, suppositories were often the first choice. I vividly recall the procedure, so reminiscent of the rectal temperatures. I’d be lying face down on my bed and I’d hear the distinctive sound of the lid being unscrewed from the deep blue jar that was kept in a door compartment in the refrigerator. It had a certain deeper dull  tone than the sound of a jelly  or pickle jar being opened. Then she’d again use one hand to spread my cheeks while the other inserted the little stick of glycerin. It would feel cold going in, since it was fresh from the refrigerator, and the thing I remember most was how it was a two-step process. First my mother would have to hold the thing in her fingers and place the tip into my little orifice but then she’d have to use just her index finger to push it all the way in. The sphincter is a strong and wide ring, and if you don’t push the suppository in far enough, one squeeze will push it right back out. But if it gets past a certain point, that same squeeze will suck the intruder right up into you. Her finger push would make sure the latter occurred, and it’s that push I remember most: practical, gentle, but determined.


A modern and kind of cute and charming take on suppository use. 

Now suppositories are essentially irritants designed to trick the rectum into wanting to expel it….and therefore whatever else was stuck there with it. But they take a little time…….time filled with the constant urge to ‘go’. And being a kid, that was probably the single biggest reason they often did not work for me. I just insisted on having to go almost immediately and my mother would eventually relent. I’d sit on the toilet and very happily expel the suppository with ease………..but very often ONLY the suppository. It would be at this point that my mother would bring out the big guns: the enema syringe and a sinkful of very warm, soapy water!


German's illustration has resonance, but........a witness? and erection? Not in my house. I was way too preoccupied with worry to feel any excitement.....and enemas were a private thing between just me and my Mom.

When I was still pretty young, my mother did this thing where she dragged out my old plastic-covered crib mattress from a storage area and put it on the bathroom floor alongside the tub. She’s then have me completely remove my pajama bottoms so there’d be nothing to pull up or down or get messed. Then she’d warm up the water and fill the porcelain sink with it as she slushed a bar of soap around creating a bunch of suds atop the cloudy water. Once satisfied, she’d sit on the closed lid of the toilet, and call me to her. Over her lap I’d go, very much like for a spanking, except rather than a smack, in would go a lubed-up nozzle.


This is close, but that guy is way too big and there was never any spanking connected to enemas.

 I remember the odd feeling of the water going in. It felt……..weird, not painful, not pleasant, not completely unpleasant…….just a warm, gurgly tingle spreading through my lower abdomen. Once she felt I had enough liquid in me, she’d let me off her lap and I’d have to go to the mattress and wait. I recall that as I got older, I got tall quickly……..always being the tallest boy in my class, and way too lanky for her lap. So then I would just go to that old mattress and get into a knee-chest position and my mother would administer the enema that way.

Waiting for permission to go was the worst part I think. Every part of your body is screaming, “run to the toilet now!” But you know you have to wait for the damned thing to really do its job…….and it was my mother’s job to stand firm in the face of my weakness. When the time was up…….and in all honesty it was never that long, it just felt long…...I was free to plop on the toilet and go. And go I would. Enemas never failed to work.

Now, at the time, I hated getting an enema. But when I think back, I can’t come up with a single logical reason why. I think all of my objections were psychological. Physically they didn’t hurt. They always worked in just a few minutes. I’d ALWAYS feel better afterwards. And my mother’s routine, while admittedly embarrassing to a boy, was never cruel or excessive. And enemas were being used by other moms everywhere back then. I think it’s just like being young and not wanting to swallow the medicine we sort of know we need.

Anyway, it was only  matter of time before I associated things going up my butt with something that felt good…….and seemed deliciously naughty. I remember we had this cheap glass apothecary bottle that my mother used for keeping bubble bath liquid. The top was the typical teardrop style you see on liquor decanters and it was not very big. When I hit puberty (early) I began to not only experiment with masturbation, but with inserting that tapered teardrop into my hinder……….. and sometimes I’d masturbate with that stopper in me!


Very close approximation of the very first item of substance to make its way into my bottom.

It wasn’t until much later though that I discovered during one of those moves I mentioned in a past post, my mother’s own enema bag. Now I personally never had experienced an enema from a bag and this discovery intrigued me. Before long, I was sneaking the bag into my own bathroom when I was alone and experimenting with enemas…….with a short hop in a couple of years more to involving kinky girlfriends and then wives in the proceedings.





Over the years, I’ve gotten many and even given a few. I’ve experienced different ‘recipes’, ‘temperatures’, ‘techniques’,  and ‘conditions’.  But I can honestly say that had I not experienced the things I did as a kid, I probably never would have begun experimenting this way so early.


This reminds me of an actual enema adventure I had many years ago, prior to Rosa, where I was given  a full enema and then was allowed to kiss the Top's bottom for as long as I could hold it!

But it wasn’t just an association with anal insertions that began back then. It was something much more simple…….yet profound and long-lasting. All of these procedures, the rectal thermometers, the enemas, etc. all shared something much more basic. All of these things resulted in me somehow presenting a naked backside…….something you were supposed to always keep covered……………. to a trusted loved one. 


I can easily say that this image sums up my earliest associations to anything kinky and sexual. Being face down and bare-bottomed became inextricably linked to something desirable in me.....regardless of what happened next.

And it was the unspoken association of the expectation of cooperation under the circumstances  from the figure in authority that had the biggest impact. It was kind of like, ‘you are right. You ARE supposed to keep your bottom covered in almost every other situation…..BUT, in this situation, with me, the person who loves you and who is doing this for your own benefit, you need to present yourself to me and trust me to do what is necessary.’ Over time I think I came to associate that simple act of baring and presenting, especially while face down on a bed....... as a symbol of submissive trust.

There is something charming in the seemingly innocent vulnerability shown here.

And that association has stuck with me until even today, when I am no longer as lean, and youthful, in every situation from something medical…….to something more punitive, like a spanking.

When I was still pretty young, but already becoming sexual in my thinking, my earliest masturbatory fantasies centered around being just like the lad depicted here.



So much for the innocence of youth!



Thursday, January 18, 2018

Thursday mash-up

"Where are you going, Leon?" I've gone back to letting off steam with an extended re-play of  the old Resident Evil 4. Ashley Graham is one of the most annoying characters in gaming history.....but maybe if she appeared in the game as she does here, I might be able to tolerate her squeaky voice and tendency to stand exactly where she shouldn't during a fight. In fact, this might even be better....

Oh, Ashley, you never looked so good. A little duct tape over your mouth just to be sure, and I think we could have a wonderful time  getting you safely out of the village, castle, and island.


But Resident Evil aside, it's been a frenetic week and now it's Thursday and I just have all these short, random bits of information to share before we get back to coherent, single-themed posts (of which I have several topics brewing).

After my 2 O's I got very project-driven again and managed to finish the chair rail installation and repainting of our Federal Period living room. Rosa and I are very pleased with the result.

The sitting area by our fireplace.

While the cream horizontal ties the room together nicely, the main reason for the chair rail was to protect the wall from our  three Windsor chairs.

Yesterday I also switched out our bathroom vanity sink for a pedestal style......but that project, as a whole, is far from over and will require a lot of work and money over the course of the year.

After all of that I managed to persuade Rosa to give me a third O! (yes I did!) And it was a doozy! She didn't want to at first, but she is very open to my input when she can see I'm being sincere about something. I think I really was needing a certain feeling to get my mood right and this third o did the trick. I feel even more productive and refreshed than before.



In the midst of all of this, I also had my Monster, Ana, inform me that she was officially caught up leaving comments on the posts that pertained to her the most. I know she replied to a couple of reader comments as well (Merry, Joe). I read them and they are typical of my clever girl. So Ana-fans can now scan back posts for her little snarky pearls if you so choose.


Rosa called me a few minutes ago to tell me she is in a very good mood and wants to do a little creative 'playing' later.........


"So I've got that going for me........which is nice."


I still need to meet up with Marta over the New Year's close-out punishment. We have just been on mixed paths of colds, business, and whatnot. Ana's slip has not yet been started, but Rosa is definitely in agreement with it. (Ana's slip will be a topic for another day.) Suffice it to say.......there's going to be a LOT of punishment spanking ahead!

I never got one of these in a fortune cookie........but with what Ana already proscribed, and Marta's and Nickki's installments still to come......I'd say this was a safe prediction.

Today I have an annoying project to deal with that is the result of having removed the vanity. I am going to have to trace a live wire left exposed by the removal of the old sink and find a safe place to cap it off. This would be easy if it wasn't for the fact that, rather than leading to an open area in the basement.......it leads to the finished bathroom I had just done down there........and now I am probably going to have to cut into the sheet rock to do this. Arrghhh!

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

O #2

After two whole months without an O, the "pressure valve" release (described in a previous post) just wasn't enough. I asked Rosa if she'd be willing to give me another and she said she would............and then it just kept getting postponed! 

On Saturday morning she said we would 'play' and asked me to remind her of what we discussed. I told her I would like to have some repeated teasing with this big vibrator/massager we have, while kissing her feet. I then said that while I would love an O eventually, I would be OK with whatever decision she makes on whether I get one or not.

So we played, she teased...................REPEATEDLY! Teasing, then stopping, then starting up again, then stopping again............all while I kissed her feet like the crazed fetishist I am.




Ultimately she let me have one......which felt very strange. It was very powerful but like a pleasure 'spike'. It hit hard but the sensation was more brief........not like the lingering, mind-fogging fireworks show I experienced the last time. Still, it let off more of the pent-up frustration from my denial period and I was much calmer afterwards. Interestingly, after I had the O, Rosa said she was so torn about saying 'yes'. The teasing had made her feel very mischievous and the devil on her shoulder was tempting her with a refusal.....but seeing how I was, she ignored the demon and went along with our initil plan. (thankfully!.....I really needed it!)

And like the fireworks one, I feel very project-driven once again and am re-painting my living room and adding a chair rail moulding (yes, spellcheck, that's a real word) around the room. I'm also going to be installing a pedestal sink in our bathroom in place of the vanity style currently there.

And speaking of 'pedestals'................my Monster, who lives perpetually on a high pedestal I built for her, is going back to college. Her nice long winter break is over. I'll be driving her back around noon. (Ana responds to posts here in spurts and added comments to several posts from the past......but she is still not caught up.) Anyway, I'm sad to be losing my Monster back to the real world.

--------------------------------

On another note, while I got several responses on my 'medical fetish' post, no one specifically seemed interested in the  follow-up I mentioned. I never know what is going to resonate or misfire with my guests, so I'm going to put any follow-up on 'hold' for now. If anyone is interested in the other things from my past that led to my current medical fetishes, just say so and I'll write about them. Thanks.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Comment speed

..................for me, and some others also complaining on Blogger Help has been akin to this:


Are any of you experiencing this as well? 

( I don't like to jump to upsetting conclusions...........ah who am I kidding? Of course I do........BUT it seems very suspicious to me that this came about not long after the elimination of 'net neutrality'. )

I would love to hear from others on this. Thanks.

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Round Table 2017


As I look across the great hall, I smile at the seats surrounding the vast table. Carved into each is the name of some noble knight or lady whose friendship and participation in the affairs of the realm have meant so much in the past year.

As I look to one seat, I see the name of Merry (the Contrary), the most prolific commenter in the realm..... not only carved  but gilded with gold leaf and adorned with putti......


 .....followed closely by Dan (the Disciplined) whose seat has a cushion for his tender butt and a carved cup holder built right into the arm. 


Another special seat, with a princess crown and a special refrigerated compartment for Halo ice cream underneath is adorned with the name of my Ana (the Monster). 


Newcomer Fondles who visits us from foreign realms, has commented very frequently as well. I am not sure, but I think her seat has a vibrating double plug mounted on it. (No wonder she always seems so happy at our gatherings!)



Other gracious and reliable commenters include Tomy, whose seat has a dedication to Aunt Kay carved into the back. The Glenmore, whose seat is cushioned in tartan, has doodles all around. And the knights Archedone, Joe, Dave, Darren Reddened, Downunder Don, Richard, iruser, smuccatelli, Carl H, Hands63al all have respected seats encircled as well.

Periodically we hear from Nickki, Hermione, Lea, Red, StrictJulie. Strap51, Anna, Goldielocks, & Mr.Bill, who have seats at the ready but that may need a little dusting and polishing. Hopefully soon.

And certain seats that have had many laurels of praise strewn upon them in the past are now sadly vacant, their residents missing (and missed). Hopefully they are just presumably on quests and will return soon? Their carved names read:  Shilo, Crimson Kid, & Subhub in PHX.   

A few other knights errant have visited the hall in 2017 as well…..but have chosen not to remain. Alas our company is not for everyone.



As I stand and look at this great roster, I feel compelled to raise my tankard in honor of this assembly and feel privileged to have had the company of such fine individuals at my table during 2017……...and I look forward to another year of robust discussion and tales of great (kinky) deeds. As I leave, I summon my herald and instruct him to once again send out invitations to all those who wish to earn a seat for themselves to don their armor and take up their swords……..or just leave a comment now and then.

And "Hail!" to all that do and have.


Friday, January 12, 2018

"Sick" memories

Well, I'm at that stage now where I don't feel feverish anymore and I never felt nauseous in any way.....so whatever this is/was it's not some intestinal virus. ( Plus I DID get a flu shot this year, so who knows? ) What I am doing a good deal of is coughing!



One of the things that this little bout of whatever has done is prompt some old memories.  Particularly of how I came to have a mild but definite "medical fetish". Now, when people ask me about my spanking interest and my childhood, while I can't say definitively that it didn't start there.....or because of some event, I CAN say without hesitation that my medical fetish DEFINITELY started there.

I was born in 1959 and so when I was sick, nobody stuck a beeping thermometer under my arm. Nope. THIS was the instrument that revealed my body temperature and it got stuck up my butt:

This looks VERY much like the actual thermometer I was accustomed to right down to the blue box.

The procedure was quite simple. My mother would have me lay face down on my bed with my PJ bottoms lowered and then she'd use good old fashioned Vaseline to lube up my little friend pictured above and using one hand to spread my cheeks, in she'd slide the thermometer with the other. Then she'd do this thing I recall distinctly. She'd take her one hand and lay it across my bottom so that her fingers rested on one cheek, the heel of her hand on the other, and her palm pushed the end of the thermometer in-between so that it would be level with my cheeks. If during the course of the 4 minutes of being measured, the thermometer started to slip up and out, she'd do this again. I remember feeling like it was a very tender way to do something practical. I remember the feeling of her hand on my bottom so strongly. It was like a non-verbal way of saying, "I want my dear little boy to get better.....so this has to be in far enough to do its job correctly."

I will also fully admit that my feelings towards rectal temperatures changed over time as one might expect. When I was very young, my earliest recollections being from just before and about Kindergarten age, I hated the idea that she was going to take my temperature this way. I didn't want her sticking anything in my bottom. And I knew even then that temperatures could be taken orally, but when I complained she'd just tell me that this was more accurate. Having not much of a choice, I'd just endure it but I remember being very cognizant of the time counting down until it would be over. But oddly, as I got a bit older, maybe around 3rd grade or so, I came to........in a way I didn't understand fully at the time.......sort of like the procedure. After all, it didn't hurt, I was the center of my caring Mom's attention, and I recall that my already perverted young mind was strangely liking the position I was in.

Put this kid on his belly and I'd swear someone had snuck into my room!


And THAT has to be my strongest memory of it all......not the insertion, or the barely noticeable sensation of holding something so tiny in my hinder, but being on a sort of vulnerable and embarrassing display......all under the legitimizing guise of health care!

I'm going to confess something now that I have never told anyone, and I'm not exactly sure  anymore of the precise way this went down....or exactly when, but the memory does seem vivid enough to be pretty close to what I'm going to admit. Over time I ceased all protest over rectal temperature taking and instead became very compliant with the practice......so much so that I do think my level of casual cooperation served to keep it going longer than it might have, had I raised more and more of a fuss. My mother was always a bit overprotective and I think she just saw this as part of being a caring mom and willingly kept doing things they way she had always done with her little boy....even as I was not as little as I used to be. But since I wasn't giving her any reason to stop, and cause to have to buy a different thermometer, she just kept on doing things this way.

But one thing she began to do as I got older was to flip my blanket over me after inserting the thermometer...... ostensibly for modesty. I recall hating this new addition. It ruined everything going on in my head! Now instead of being on deliciously embarrassing display, I was just all covered up with a thing in my ass. I also didn't like how the blanket would tug the thermometer if I moved in any way. At first I just went along with this new twist, but I was growing to hate it more and more. And so one day after my mother had covered me up and left me to wait for the temperature to register, I just reached back and brazenly flipped the blanket back off of me. When she returned to find my bottom exposed, before she could even ask, I preemptively explained very matter-of-factly that the blanket was rubbing against the thermometer making it very annoying.......which while true, was NOT the main motive for my action. I don't think she said anything that I can recall and just accepted my explanation as somewhat logical and from that point on just continued to do things as we had always done them. I guess, being my mother, SHE had only chosen to cover me up for what she thought could be my possible growing feelings of modesty. But obviously if I preferred doing things 'the old way', she would have no real issue with it.

I'm not sure when we ceased rectal temps as mother/son and this was definitely something I regarded as a mother/son thing. No one else ever took my temperature like this but her. So when temperature time came, I could always expect that the thermometer was going to end up in my butt......and that Mom and only Mom was going to put it there. But it did end at some point.  I have tried to recall when and just can't, but regardless of when it was, it was already after I had already formed a very clear association between the activity and something practical, loving, and also somewhat deliciously submissive. 

Years later, in college, I had a dominant girlfriend that would spank me and do other BDSM activities. Whenever I got sick........as long as I wasn't TOO sick, she'd be my 'nurse' and take my temperature rectally......just like Mom used to. ( After helping my family move twice since those early  days, it wasn't hard for me to find the long-discontinued thermometer among some boxed-up stuff and procure it for my own use.)

I haven't really had a desire to revisit this activity in recent years. I'm not sure why.....but probably because Rosa is squeamish about inserting things herself. She's OK with me HAVING stuff inserted, but other than the occasional pegging, she prefers I do the self-impaling.

This could easily have been me back when I was about 19 or so.

My childhood also resulted in other medical-type fetishes......namely suppositories and enemas. But perhaps .......if there's interest........those can be stories for another day?






Thursday, January 11, 2018

Pressure valve


Yesterday Rosa gave me two separate "remind you who's boss" spankings of moderate severity but extended length. I'm still tender this morning! 


Afterwards I submissively snuggled at her feet while she teased me. After a bit of this I felt like I was gong to explode and told her so, asking if it was OK for me to have an O. She agreed. When I finally orgasmed, it felt like a pressure valve had let off a backlog of steam!



Unfortunately, towards evening, some cold or whatever I've been fighting off hit me hard and made me miserable throughout most of the night. However, when I got up a little while ago, I felt much better and my head had cleared. 

I'm going to just take today slowly and see what I can accomplish.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Freeze & Thaw

The temperatures in NJ are finally heading up. In fact, they are saying that by Friday we could be at 59 degrees F! Yay!

One of the things that all this bitter cold did was prompt a memory of a past 'session' whose mechanics mirrored this recent weather. I also bring it up because we had been talking about plugs a while back and also because there always seems to be interest in alternative punishments and penalties besides spanking. The session I'm going to describe touches on all of that......but clearly is  not for everyone. In fact, I am not even sure Rosa would like it, because she can be a bit squeamish about anal stuff that leans towards the more intense.

The session was neither purely punitive nor purely playful but rather a combination of adventurous curiosity and the need for a penalty for something I had failed to do. It involved me, a dominant friend with whom I was not "involved" except as an obedient sub, a large butt plug, and this:


Standard small bottle of water......17-20 oz.

The premise was very simple.....even though the execution required a bit of preparation AND commitment from both parties. I would be required to wear my largest plug while servicing my Top with a pedicure. Then, after the pedicure was complete, I would excuse myself, remove the regular plug, and replace it with the water bottle as shown below and then quickly crawl back to my Top:


Now, while large insertions are always challenging, the true touch of cruelty was that the bottle had been previously kept in the freezer overnight and looked more like this:

Do you think the packaging engineer who came up with this bottle shape ever imagined the perverted possibilities it enabled?

As you can see, once frozen the ice expands and the bottle takes on a shape ideal for insertion and retention. The bottom rounds out and the middle remains a narrow 'waist'. I still recommend having been 'pre-stretched' before inserting the bottle since the sheer size of it and the effect of the shocking cold would make insertion difficult and maybe even dangerous if the path was not previously paved.

Now if any of you have played with ice before, you know the sensation can be very shocking........but let me assure you, inserting a couple of ice cubes during play in no way compares to how a big, solid chunk of plastic-enclosed ice feels once inside you. Once in, the cold immediately prompts your sphincter to tighten around the narrow midsection of the bottle practically locking it into you. Then the challenge truly begins. 

The first minute or so is pure hell. You can't think of anything other than having the intruder removed. And that is where the abilities of the Top come into play. It is their job to use whatever technique they can think of to get you past that first agonizing minute. In my case, my Top employed three separate strategies: the first was an insistence on obedience which was accentuated by her holding the end of a leash that was attached to a collar I was wearing, the second was to offer her feet to be kissed so as to keep me submissively focused on her, and the third was to answer questions she read from a trivia game which acted as a distraction. 

I was panting, whimpering, and squirming like crazy...... and basically behaved quite desperately. To her credit, she just remained calm and in control. She alternated between reassuring me kindly that I could do this and sternly insisting that I just 'suck it up and deal with it'. It worked. 

After a bit, the initial agony was replaced by a tolerable discomfort as my insides numbed to the ice. It was no picnic even then, but a far cry from that first minute. At that point  I just kissed toes and answered her questions as best as I could until told that I was free to go and remove the water bottle.

Interestingly, just like when you come in from the cold with chilly red ears, once the bottle was out and my body began to recover, the sting returned before subsiding once more for good. Afterwards we just relaxed from the adventure as I massaged the feet I had just been so frantically kissing. It was a pretty intense experience from my end and I confessed to my Top that in that first minute the only thing that kept me from bolting was her control. She seemed to  like that.

I also mentioned that frilly attire I was wearing for the ice portion of our adventure ( which was intended to add a strong element of embarrassment ) did not have as powerful an effect once the ice was in me as it had when being discussed beforehand or even first put on. I compared it to the way a woman says that during early labor she  is often taken aback by the number of strangers staring at her groin......until the real pain starts and she no longer cares WHO is there watching. My friend laughed at the analogy.

Anyway, I will attest to the fact that this 'trial' while emotionally powerful and bonding, is not "fun" for the sub. It's very similar to a punishment spanking that a naughty sub knows is deserved and on some level wants even though the actual experience is fairly horrible. As such, this ice insertion session has a definite punitive element to it. It would make for a great penalty or punishment when a spanking is either not enough, or is not preferred. It is also very good at creating a very strong bond between Top and sub. Even though my Top was not a lover or partner, I still felt extremely close to her after the ordeal and just wanted to stay close by her for a while.

Cute picture......but I can guarantee that her look of quiet ecstasy would quickly change to one of sheer desperation if that bottle she was housing was frozen solid!