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Confessions of a Hotel Sissy

It felt like a long day already, especially given that it had started around 5am in a time zone three hours earlier than the current one. Since then there had been the waiting, the flight, the train, the work meetings broken up only by the work lunch, and then the obligatory but much appreciated drink at the hotel bar.

But now, now was when the day began for me. Now was the start of what I’d been looking forward to from the moment my latest work trip was confirmed. I was alone in my hotel room, finally getting a chance to read Domina’s instructions.

Anticipation had been delicious. Questions had been asked, like just what might a submissive man who is more than happy to be and obedient sissy be able to find for Her use, teasing and torment of him in a downtown pharmacy? After all the suggestions, I was finally looking at the definitive list of Her choices. Oh, and added to that list: a nice dildo from that lovely adult toy store that just happened to also be right downtown.

Reality do…
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I see myself before you. Neither of us looks out of the ordinary.

I feel okay about myself in black jeans, t-shirt, my favourite charcoal grey shirt. You look comfortable and casual, but every time I get to see you I smile. My vision of you is all layers - a wicked and kind soul, effortless beauty, and memories of images I’ve been sent to tease me.

My muscles tense. I feel the ache all over, and also very specifically located. The cliche might be to say “I don’t even know how long it's been” since I’ve been granted release -- but I know exactly how long. Four weeks and four days.

We talk. It’s been long enough that this alone is bliss. Just to be close. I can feel the rest of the world falling away and warmth and joy builds up inside me.

The shadows start to lengthen, so much earlier now. It reminds me of the season changing, but also of how the day is rotating into night. The ache grows so much quicker when I’m this close to you. I squirm in my chair. I see you notice and smile.

a few old words about being bound

I don’t know that this is enough to blog about but just some words on part of why I love bondage, and in particular, being bound or restrained.

I love submission and service, when my actions can be of use or pleasure or amusement to another, be they overtly sexual or no.

But being bound is different. You’re restrained, held, maybe even completely immobile or helpless. Maybe wrapped up on a ball or spread wide and exposed. In this situation, your bondage partner, your Domme let’s say, is making all the choices about how you are used or touched or denied.

She might (and hopefully does) get pleasure from the sight of you, the way you squirm or the delightful sounds that escape around your gag. She chooses what happens, and it requires Her action. Her touch. Her cropping. Her application of clothes pins. Her writing on your body.

She could leave you alone. She could ignore you. She could be bored by your inability to actively serve Her, but She isn’t. Every action on Her part is Her choice …

something new

I’m feeling a new kind of control lately.
Through the years, I’ve been blessed to be able to submit to those who have taught me new skills, shared new sensations and experiences with me, even layered new, long-lasting kinks onto my psyche. Some of that has come with the growing development of my submission — beyond enjoying bottoming kinks and into truly being fulfilled by the act of submitting, and of giving pleasure to another. I speak here of the pleasures of being of use to another, of adding something to their lives, or of relieving them of some burden.
In the past, these sweet gifts of being controlled has made me feel aroused (of course), lucky, excited, inspired and teased. A few times, when I’ve been really lucky, I’ve been made to feel sexy and desired. And then it can sometimes get even better, when you feel cared for, wanted.
I’ve also made mistakes, lots of them, that have made me feel ashamed, silly, needy, and frustrated with myself. The years have allowed me to …

May 2017

You don’t know me, but I’ve had a big year.

Around the middle of May, 2016, after a lot of nervous planning and building up courage, and after one particularly frustrating delay, I stepped inside the front door of a professional Dominant’s dungeon.

Before that day, it had been around 10 years since I had submitted in person. During those intervening years, I had tried everything from attempting a life without kink, I’d scened online on websites and IRC, I’d found varying success with online Dommes, serving over distance with such real life implementation as I could.

Eventually, I just needed to feel it. It’s different.

There are a lot of things you can do on your own, with the guidance and control of someone else. You can even be subjected to providing proof of your compliance via emailed photos (which is a hell of a lot easier now than it was 10 years ago, I can promise you).

You can’t really be helpless though. You can’t feel yourself completely given over to the control of someone …


This past week, something completely new happened to me.

If you know me, which I’m sure you don’t, you know I’m in that category of men who practice their kinks and fetishes discretely and secretly. You know, kinky guys with vanilla lives. If you want to judge me for that, I guess that is okay, but it’s not relevant to this post, other that I need to set the scene that my real life play in any kind of recent way has been with professionals.

That is a relationship dynamic that I feel like I’m getting some kind of understanding of, but it’s a process.

Anyways, this past week I was offered the gift of the opportunity to give domestic service to a Domme whom I’ve served before. This is, to me at least, a BIG DEAL.

Why? So many reasons. It means that a Domme actually thought that I might be able to provide some kind of service to Her, be of use to Her,  outside the scope of a traditional scene. It means that a Domme trusted me enough to open up some small part of Her life and allow me to b…

"forced" bi

I remember the first time a previous Domme told me she wanted to fuck me with a strap-on. I was nervous and scared and uncomfortable. (I believe I was also tied spreadeagle to her bed, face down, with the tip of a vibe teasing me, tenting the back of the panties she’d put me in).

It never happened with her, as we ended up focussing more on bondage games, but it stuck in my mind as something that never happened, a path not followed up upon.

I became aware of “forced bi” as a thing later. It seemed so extreme, so total. The kind of submission that changes a person forever, or at least the way you think of yourself. So, I guess it makes sense, knowing me, that the idea of that kind of totality of submission would get stuck in my head. For that Domme, for the first time, I’d been submissive for her in front of another person. In that case, it was a woman, and any erotic humiliation came from the fact that that particular woman had played with me as an online sub, and now I was in that sub…