Friday, December 23, 2011

Pup-pup interviews

Just to say that the 2nd half of my interview by pup-pup is now up on his website:

Interview With BootBrushPup Part 1

Interview With BootBrushPup Part 2 

If you've not seen pup-pup's series of interviews, it's well worth taking a look: he's managed to interview a wide range of pup's and players, and asked some genuinely interesting questions that certainly had me thinking. 

It's fascinating to see both how wide and diverse a community we have, and yet, how close our core experiences can be.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The journey, not the goal.

I wanted to share some thoughts on another great post from Sparky on the 'No safe word' blog:

He speaks there about pain-play - and the ways in which he has seen (and experienced) intense play over time.

He says that the 'Old Guard' traditions seemed to be based on a Top taking the sub on a journey: building their Trust, and using a slow build up of pain and experience to ramp up their endorphin high and enable them both to reach higher and higher levels of experience together:

But, for whatever reason, some of those newer players in the 'newer kinks' seem to have lost this idea - preferring instead to head straight for intensity. But, whilst that leap to the peak experience may look good from outside:
"The sub doesn't have the time to learn from the experience, gain trust, or reach levels of inner calm by becoming acclimated to the pain they experience before being taken to the next plateau.
In fact I think in those cases the sub is merely a prop as a part of expression of sadism."

It is unfortunate, but i must agree - and have had that same feeling that my experience does not feature in the new Top's concerns - that i am merely there as an object, a three dimensional porn-prop to their own short-lived gratification, to be discarded once they are done.

The idea of being a sexual object may be hot - and there are those that hold the belief that the sub is there to serve and nothing more: that the Top's pleasure is all that matters - but in reality such depersonalising experiences have only been painful and empty - and i believe deeply damaging to both my own self-worth, and to the Top's perception of Himself as Top and Sadist.


The old traditions built up over time, based on the experience of many Men - most of whom had been on the other side of the whip, the clothes peg or the needle; each had experienced what it means to surrender, and how it feels to ride your Top's gift of pain.

They knew from personal experience how the slow ramping up is a part of the journey - and that the journey is itself the goal.

And in that gaining of experience they also gained a key part of BDSM: EMPATHY.

Empathy is knowing what the sub is feeling - physically and emotionally; empathy is in knowing from your own experience how to play his body and mind.

Empathy is in knowing that the Top understands your building need to surrender - and receives that surrender with full knowledge of what it costs.

Empathy is what makes our play the meeting of equals - even whilst the one surrenders all to the other.

Without empathy, there is no Trust; without trust, there is no possibility of a bond between the players - and without that bond, BDSM is meaningless: a one-night stand masquerading in leather and chains.

And perhaps most importantly: Empathy is what makes BDSM play a shared experience of pleasure, rather than simply one Man abusing another for His own selfish ends...


To me, BDSM is all in that slow build up - both of the sub's ability to surrender and go into the experience (whether that is pain, or submission), and of the building Empathy and Trust between the players - that both enables the sub to submit, and that creates the deep emotional bond that makes it all worth while.

Because it really isn't about the pain itself. If it was, I'd stay at home and get off by jabbing needles in my leg. Pain (or humiliation, or bondage, or any part of BDSM) is simply the tool used to help us ascend -  the conduit through which our energy flows: me to You - the key through which i am able to attain surrender, and You are able to receive it.

Pain is the method of travel - and not the point of the journey.

And, done well with respect and with experience, BDSM really should be a journey - a long climb up the screes and bluffs of our shared sexual heights - until you are *both* stood upon the highest peaks - and both made greater from the shared experience of the climb.

But like any mountain climb, that takes both time and experience.

And maybe that is where the newer kinks and players lose: because they don't give it the necessary time.

Maybe it's the desire for instant gratification, or too much choice in the online world that creates a perceived need to make an immediate impression - and maybe it's just a simple lack of experience and of empathy. But the rush to get to the peak experience means that you really do miss the journey - and therefore never truly reach the goal.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

A simple leg-hug

Sometimes pup-play is simple.

My Handler came to visit: a quick drop-in for a cup of tea on His way to a weekend with His boy in Birmingham. 

Geoff was due home and i've been off work with a chest-infection, so there really *was* only time for a little bark of excitement accompanied by a helpless puppy butt-wag when He strode up the driveway - a gentle hug, kiss and beard-rub in the hallway - and then Sir was admiring Geoff's tiling handiwork in our new kitchen whilst i put the kettle on. We then all retired to the sitting room for a very civilised chat over tea and Lardy-cake - with my Men both sitting side by side on the sofa, and the pup taking it's accustomed place at His feet - quietly smiling at the way They both chat and laugh so easily with each other - and with me (and how incredibly LUCKY i am that these two most important people in my life can also be such respectful friends to each other as well).

But of that simplicity of which i spoke - and that moved me so deeply: 

It feels so perfect and natural to simply just sit there, at His feet - one hand resting on the toe of His boot whilst the other slides behind His camo-covered calf - responding to my inner instinct and quietly shifting my position so as to be able to lean my chest softly against His shin; feeling Him shift His foot slightly, almost unconsciously: nudging against my puppy-crotch so that i can sit upon the arch of His boot a little and feel every tap and twitch. 

Feeling the love and submission welling up inside me: both a swelling fullness that threatens to overwhelm me, and an aching emptiness that yearns to be filled. i settle my mind - let myself simply go into the flow of emotion and energy - feel it stream from my heart and my core - pouring into Him through the contact between our bodies. 

The simple love and devotion of a dog for its Master - of a boy for his Man 

and the pleasure in being in His company.

And i know that He feels the flow in turn: because He looks down and smiles - then gently places His hand upon the back of my neck: just were His collar would lie. His hand is warm and comforting as His thumb gently stokes along the edge of my hairline - He gives a quiet little growl when i hug myself tighter into His leg and my head sinks onto His thigh. His hand moves to rest gently on the top of my head, and i feel His love and protection flow back into me in response to this silently given but utterly honest submission. 

It is only a few moments - and then Geoff says something that makes us all laugh and He reaches for His tea and the moment passes. No words were exchanged between us, no orders or sexual contact - and yet there is more said in those few moments about what it means to be HIS pup than i could ever express in the hundreds of pages of this blog.

i love You Sir: heart and soul, balls to bone - always and all ways.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

"Why I Like Rubber"

i just read two excellent posts by RubberAnubis - were he explains the joys and pleasures of rubber: and the fascination if holds for those of us perverts under its power. 

Rubber Anubis: Why I Like Rubber - 2:

He is correct - there is nothing that feels quite like rubber:

  • the way that it conceals the body within its glossy folds, yet stretches to reveal every bulge and bump of the physique it enfolds; 
  • the way it constricts the body and its movements - in its gentle resistance, reminding you of the pure physicality of being; even the act of breathing can become erotic when the rubber is tight enough...
  • yet rubber also slides so slickly across the skin, giving an intense and sensual massage to your limbs as your move - lubricated by your own trapped sweat, oils and essence; 
  • Rubber holds your heat, your sweat - bathes you in your own desire, makes it seep from your skin. Then makes you feel the incredible, shuddering electricity as each trapped bead of sweat trickles down your chest or back...
  • Rubber has a uniquely heady scent: a combination of industrial anonymity and intense masculinity. Yet it also slowly absorbs the scent of the Man over time - until it comes to smell perfectly of Him - and He of it...
  • it transmits heat and touch so perfectly - yet also seems to amplify it so that every stroke of His hand can ripple across your entire skin in shuddering waves of intimate heat;
  • full rubber can reduce its wearer to an anonymous black-skinned creature - yet in it's glossy tautness, also reveal the true Man within so completely: His every moment of desire and arousal.

Rubber is unique, erotic, encapsulating and perverse - yet as Anubis says: it is still nothing without the Man within it to make it come alive. But when worn, rubber becomes more than a fetish material - it becomes a partner in the sexual experience itself!

And *that* is what i love rubber too.

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Rubber rider

The petrol tank feels cool against my cheek - and through the thin rubber skin stretched tight across my sweating chest and stomach. i can see my breath mist against the metal as i pant and struggle and writhe: frantic and lost in intense pleasure. i place my gloved hands on the handlebars, push my booted feet onto the foot-rests: rear my rubbered haunches up, press myself back harder against my Man - and catch sight of us both where we are reflected in the wing-mirrors...

i am encased in tightly revealing full black rubber: high necked one-piece suit and gloves, thick rubber sheath and cod-piece - even sox encasing my feet within the high rubber riding boots. The tight glossy rubber makes me feel closely contained and utterly controlled, yet it also defines and exposes every twitching muscle, every bulging ache of my arousal. The only scraps of humanity that show through are the black-ringed eyes staring out from within the hood that reshapes my head into that of a dog - and the hot ring of my twitching hole through the arse-zip; but even that is now hidden: pressed up against the furred abs and pubis of my Master so that He can fill my rubbered core with His heat and His hunger.

My glossy black encased body is laid across the silver tank of His Honda Pan European - hugged against the tank and pinioned beneath Him so that it is pressed down hard into the broad leather saddle. With my body wrapped around the machine, my arse is raised high and my hole forced open - filled with HIM - tight and hungry as the pistons that throb and pulse within the engine beneath us. This is His bike - His steed - and He rides me now as He rides it: with unquestioned ease and complete control. Every deep thrust rocks the bike rhythmically forward on its centre stand - and pushes my wrapped and packaged crotch painfully deeper into the leather seat. His gloved hand grasps my neck - just above the silver collar that marks me as His property - forces me back down to the tank and pins my head against the cool metal. In the heat and the hunger i have a mind-twisting vision that my rubbered flesh is somehow merging to the metal and leather and chrome of His bike - and my sheathed cock throbs all the closer to an untouched orgasm at my desire for such total surrender into becoming nothing more than another of His treasured possessions...

He thrusts Himself deep into me - i feel the press of His balls - the rasp of His thickly furred pubic mound against my hole and the smooth grain of His boot leather through the rubber of my thighs. i moan, try to turn my head against the press of His hand - and leave a thin slick trail of saliva against the cool metal. He relents: moves His hands and takes a hold of my waist instead - holding me powerless in His grasp as He pulls me up and back against Him. In response, i clench and tense my deep inner ring of muscle - feel the hot thickness of Him squeezed within me - and hear His explosive gasp of pleasure in return.

He releases my waist - lets me rock forwards on the foot-rests and slide my hole forwards and back along His length - clenching and relaxing as i do so - grinning at His reflected look of pleasure in the mirror before i close my eyes and give myself over to the intensity of this hunger He seeds within me. For a moment i am lost in the feeling of Him inside me - of the pleasure in this fullness, this surrender. My body responds to His intrusion without thought: gently rocks back and forth in a luxurious curve that slides Him along the entire inner bulge of my prostrate - feeling the ridge of His glans as it tweaks the outer ring of muscle, then pushes upwards and forwards into the silky folds of my core. He lies back against the pillion seat - eyes half closed in the sensual pleasure of being served - and i feel the purest of puppish pleasures: to be given the honour of giving Him pleasure with this body that He has trained so carefully and fully...

This is only the end of a perfect session with my Master - a day of living within my rubber, of serving Him with my body in so many ways: plugged and humping on His boot - bathing Him in my spit and giving Him my throat - lying breathless beneath Him, breath and thought both paused and waiting for His permission to start again - of being strapped down and fucked deep upon the fuck bench: legs folded and restrained hard up against my chest as He drilled His hunger down into me and took possession of my soul with His hungry gaze.

i begged then for Him to strap me down into the rubber cuccoon of my sleep-sack - to convert me into nothing more than a rubberised fuck-toy: a double-ended rubber slug of hunger to feed upon His juices and wordlessly beg for Him to jerk it off into rubberised oblivion. But He refused - preferring instead to bring us down here into the garage: onto the bike, this silver steed - His most loved possession and symbol to me of His power.

To act out this long held fantasy of us both, and to have my trembling rubber body up on the pegs, over the saddle: to fuck me and ride me and make me a part of His machine.

All of this flickers through my mind as my body twists and grinds upon Him - perverted fuel for the arousal that builds and burns within the enclosing rubber - oozing from my collar and cuffs and dripping from the edges of my zippered hole...

He lies back and lets me slowly fuck my hole against Him: revels in the feeling of being so deep within the willing core of His perverted rubber pup. i catch His eye in the mirror as He watches the lights glisten and ripple from my glossy skin - and feel myself transformed in the possession i see in His gaze.

i am dog, i am rubber, i am hunger - and i am HIS.

He finally pushes me back against the tank when He feels me rising towards my own puppish orgasm - ignores my whimpers as He slowly draws Himself out from me, and then finally has to command me to relax so that He can pull Himself free from the clinging hold of my despairing ring.

He swings his tall booted leg across and over me - dismounts the bike and His hound, and moves to stand, leather encased legs square upon the cool concrete of the floor - His meat now straining and ready in His gloved hand. He gives the order, and i obediently sink to my knees before Him: hands balled and pressed into the floor like the paws they have now become - my muzzle raised towards Him: open and willing, my tongue hot and wet and pink and ready.

His hand is gentle upon my head as He holds me perfectly still - and His voice is thick with encouragement as i greedily and gratefully receive the gift of His seed.

As we leave the garage - just before He turns out the light - i see Him look back at the chrome and steel of His mechanical steed: i know that he will be thinking of His dog and its hole when He is next out riding: His leathered crotch pressed against the tank, feeling the throb of the engine and remembering how it felt to be fucking His pup - and His machine through it...

When He finally sends me home, i have still not cum - nor do i need to: serving Him has given me more pleasure than any orgasm ever could.

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