Monday 28 December 2015

Orgasm - Release.

I am writing this at 5am. I suffer with insomnia, but I am being kept awake by a realisation that I can't stop from mulling over and over in my mind. I am hoping that I can sleep after I have written it down.

I have, for some time, told my boy that I would treat him to an orgasm for Christmas. I chose 17th December and bought him a little boy's advent calendar so he could count down the days.

Usually, I dread orgasms for him so much so they very rarely happen. But I was not dreading this one. 

It was 7 months since his last and was done in such a way that even I had been looking forward to it. My boy spread open wide for me, on his spreader bars, locked in place, and with slow, slow rhythmic strokes.

One of the reasons I hate orgasms is because of their effect. My boy tells me that they don't alter him, but we have both noticed that they do. He tries very hard for them not to alter him, but it is their nature to, beyond his control.

I had had the most desperately pathetic chastity slave. Adorable in every way.

He had his orgasm. He was released from being that most desperately pathetic chastity slave.

I created a Man.

A week later I had the freedom of a little time. I had wanted him to take me for hot chocolate, but he persuaded me otherwise and we spent the time doing something we hardly ever do. We had sexual time together. Man and woman. I say man because he could perform as a man. He didn't get to orgasm of course.

Within minutes after, he passed a comment that offended me. We argued only slightly about it but it did spoil the mood of the time spent together. it was a comment that a desperate chastity boy would not have made.
Within 48 hours we had had a huge fall out which resulted in my refusing to speak with my boy for days. He said, in particular, one word - likening me to something. He spoke to me in the manner of a Man. The Man I had made. He spoke to me in a way I refuse to tolerate. 

I want to represent the situation honestly and fairly, and am not writing this to shame my boy or lay blame. In his defence, he would say he has not changed at all. That I spoke equally badly to him and that I deserved all he said to me.

I know, however, that my pathetic, desperate boy, with his little boy's advent calendar, would not have spoken like that to me. 

He would say is orgasm, and his opportunity to be a Man had not changed him.

I, however, am Mistress KeyHolder. 

And I know otherwise.

He thought 7 months was a long time.

Right now, I never want him to have another orgasm again.


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

As a footnote, I will remind myself that I seem to have made a similar observation/post to this on another orgasm occasion. When I find the post about it I will make a link to it [here].

Tuesday 3 November 2015

Intense Teasing..

This has got to have been one of my most favourite times with my boy.

Simple, but so very, very intense.

I loved every second of it and felt completely involved and absorbed in what I was doing. I could have gone on for a very long time. This video shows in essence my obsession. It demonstrates it to you.

I want to share it with you.
I want to show you how desperate my boy is.
I want you all to see how sensitive his cocklet it..how it jumps and twitches and so very clearly needs more than what I give.

I'm sorry you don't get to see how the session unfolds...


http://www.4shared.com/video/BmOOe0rPce/00216000.html

Wednesday 7 October 2015

Letter to Mistress's Lover ... From my boy...

Dear Mistress's Lover,

Thank you for pleasing Mistress today.  Thank you for giving her an intenseness and a pleasure that I alone, could not.

As I sat banished to my study, hearing you both enter my house, climb my stairs and the creaking as you lay on my bed, I realised the reality of the situation.
My Mistress, my Queen, my lover, my partner, was in my bed with another man.
Another man I knew that she desired and lusted after.

Quietness.  Straining to hear through the silence rewarded me only with the noises of cars outside.  My tummy doing somersaults, wondering, imagining what you might be up to.
Pushed to one side.
Knowing however, that Mistress's plans involved a gentle introduction I envisaged you kissing her and maybe a little fondling through your clothes.  It hurt, but I could just about manage it.

Buzz... my phone.

A picture.

Mistress on her back. Naked.  A naked man on top of her.

Oh my God.

The blood rushed to my head, heart quite literally pounding in my chest.  Seeing the curves I so worship, pressing against another man's flesh.
Another... your fingers on her pussy.
And yet another... your fingers replaced by your mouth...

I sat immobilised. Unable to think. Unable to move. Shaking.  This was totally unexpected. This was like a punch to the stomach, a genuine physical sensation, incredibly hurtful, jealousy, submission and desperate, desperate need all moulding me into one big quivering mush.

I felt pathetic. I was allowing this. I knew that Mistress was sending me the photos to purposefully taunt me. Increase my humiliation and show me what she was giving to you, whilst denying me.  I knew that she was enjoying hurting me.  Her enjoyment... making it desirable for me.

Twenty minutes later, I was just getting over my stupor.  Breathing just about normal again, the fog clearing from my brain.  And then I heard it.  Mistress's groan coming through the walls.  A guttural moaning sound that I know so well.  A sound I adore and seek to achieve as often as possible.  The sound of her orgasm.  Another punch to the stomach. Deepening of humiliation and desperation.  I was quite literally climbing the walls.

I thought you would leave shortly after.  I heard sounds of movement and knew it was time to go. Then quietness again.  You must be talking.  

Eventually my shaking subsided, my equilibrium returning just a little.

The clock ticked.

An hour went by.

Then out of the blue, a loud, desperate cry. Her moan emitting such need and emotion.  Hitting me squarely between the eyes, gape mouthed I listened to the sound of another of Mistress's orgasms.  My God.  How it hurt.  And I was left in my box, denied.

Mistress was no longer mine.  But I was more than ever, hers.

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

Later, after you had left, Mistress and I spoke.

It was very clear just how much she enjoyed you.  The intense sexual pleasure you gave her.  The way she desired you so strongly, could not stop talking about you.   The way she enjoyed the effect on me.  What it made her to me and what it made me to her.  Lessened. Not requiring me for her sexual satisfaction, but having her new lover instead.  

Thank you for the tenderness, care and sheer enjoyment you gave to Mistress.  Thank you for enabling her to deny me to an even greater level.  For enabling her to hurt, humiliate and frustrate in a manner that elevates her so highly, whilst making me so utterly just her adoring, needful and lowly slave.  

Thank you for enabling Mistress to cuckold me and for being so right for her.

I beg that you return and continue to please Mistress sexually.  I beg you to touch her, to kiss her, to lick her and make love to her.

I beg you to be her lover. 

I beg you to participate in enjoying the humiliation she causes me.

Mistress Keyholder's slave.

Tuesday 6 October 2015

Cuckolding in it's very beginnings..

We had talked about cuckolding about a year ago. In fact, we had more than talked about it. We had made the decision to make our fantasy a reality and my boy began looking for suitable 'prospects' for me.
In summary, I didn't find anyone who I felt comfortable enough with to even meet, let alone anything else, and after trying to be undetered, we eventually decided to give in for the time being.

I said, someone suitable would come along at some point, and reminded my boy it had taken me 7 (maybe more) years of searching to find him.

During the summer holidays while my boy and I were separated by our individual holiday/family commitments, I browsed an old online fetish haunt of mine, to catch up with friends and keep my mind busy.

During one such visit, I had a new message from someone I hadn't spoken to before - nothing unusual there.. I get many such messages daily. It said only "Hello". Normally I would immediately discard such a poor effort, but the photograph that accompanied the message made me reply - "nice pic - shame about the message"

And so a communication began. 

I found myself getting to know a 24 year old young man. He was, for many reasons, out of the ordinary. The words I am about to use to describe him are not meant in any way as a put down. Rather, they are what drew  me to him, and those of you who know me will understand why.

"Shy; isolated; nervous...

intelligent; thoughtful; honest...

awkward; socially inept and uncomfortable..

virtually no experience with women..."

Eventually, this man developed confidence in me sufficient to arrange a meeting, firstly explaining to me that he had a stammer - which only made me find him more appealing.

The meeting, in a public place, last month, went well.

Tomorrow we are meeting again. In a more private place - my boy's house.

It has been a very intense time for all three of us.

My intention is to coax my new boy, and build his sexual confidence, widen his experience, and bring him to a place where he will eventually become my lover.

I will then introduce my boy to the equation and his development as a cuckold chastity slave will begin.

Infact, it has already begun - I see it when he sucks in his bottom lip when I talk to him of my new boy, I see it in the way he speaks to me and his intense devotion to me, in the reddening of his cheeks and the lowering of his eyes..

This is the boy who's penis is locked away, safely. This is the boy who is owned by Mistress Keyholder, and this is the boy who is only becoming more devoted to her relentless training of him.






Saturday 5 September 2015

Promotion for boy

You will know from my last post that my boy and I have our ups and downs, like any couple in any long term relationship - there are always little glitches.

The summer holidays prove to be a testing time for us as we have separate holidays and children mean that we spend 6 weeks with very minimal contact. Our communication is mainly by text and this often leads to misunderstandings and fallouts. This year was no different and we had some difficult moments.

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

Our first meeting after the 6 weeks summer break was a mere 2 hours together, but we had privacy. My boy had been restrained in his device almost continually for those 6 weeks and I knew he was so looking forward to me going to meet him with the keys to give him some relief. He had been telling me how desperate he was, how he needed the cage off and to have some stimulation. He was so very desperate for some stimulation, and knowing it was coming, his texts showed me that he was very needy and excited for my visit with the keys.

I duly arrived with the keys. My boy's actions and facial expressions told me he was feeling very submissive and eager for his release. As we stood, kissing against the wall, I told him he was going to have a special treat today. 

(Cocklet in my mouth perhaps...lubed rubber hands sliding up and down cocklet's length perhaps...orgasm... ?) I could imagine him thinking these things....and he told me he wanted it to be a surprise. I took no notice of his request to maintain anticipation, and instead told him I would be removing the cage and allowing cocklet to become hard. 

A bit of an anti-climax for him, as he expected as much after so long imprisoned! I imangined he was thinking I was giving him just a taster of what was to come - the cage removed, and then...... fun for cocklet.

We went to the table which he had got out ready for me at my request. Rope and hitting implements were also laid out at my request.

After removing his device as promised, I instructed him to lay face down on the table, cocklet poking through the hole. I tied his hands behind his back, and then began to tell him of my new plans.

"I have decided I am going to start touching cocklet less from now on. Denying him orgasms doesn't seem to be having the desired affect any more" 

"Oh it IS Mistress, it really is."

"I have noticed a change in you since the cage has been on for longer over the holidays." (He had, towards the end of the holiday, been making noticeable efforts to please me and be good, knowing that our meeting was approaching and that his speculated stimulation was near, making sure he had earned his reward.)
"I like him so much more since I haven't been touching him."

"Oh no Mistress, not after all this time, please, he needs touching, please, no Mistress."

"Don't worry. It's ok. Shh... (his whimpering subdued only slightly), It's a promotion! It means you can be a better boy for me. It will give you much nicer feelings of frustration and submission. It will be lovely. It's a special thing. .. and ... do you know what...? You will actually thank me for doing this to you."

Cocklet throbbed and dripped through his hole in the table. He flicked and danced about  in sheer desperation for something, anything. Anything at all. 

It was a pure delight to watch and made me feel very loving towards my cocklet.

My boy, with his hands tied behind his back, cocklet out of reach but so incredibly desperate and sensitive and needy. Unable to reach beneath the table, only able to push against air. Into nothing. 

"I realise darling, that you need something. Some physical contact. But my hand will not be touching cocklet today. In fact, we will be reducing any touching at all that cocklet gets. But I will let him know that he has been out today. I will let him have some physical relief."

And so I proceeded with the implements left out for me. The slapper, the crop, the metal, beady cat-o'-ninetails. And I began first hurting his body. Then, I turned him over so cocklet was layed against his belly for me. And I let cocklet know he was out. I hurt him. Balls, cocklet - his length, head, topside, underside, left and right. I hurt him till I felt he was fully awakened, til every part of him had had some contact with my control.

Then I sat my boy up.

Cocklet rock hard, erect, desperate.

I layed on my front, my mouth close to cocklet, and I brought my boys hand round in front of him, almost close enough for him to touch.

And there, I layed, closed my eyes, and opened my mouth... (at last, a treat for cocklet?...) And I slid my wet lips down, down over his finger, which I held right up close next to cocklet. My boy watched intently, barely able to stifle the need for my lips on cocklet, but imagining.....if only. I tormented him in this way for quite some time...making him watch this torture.

Finally, untouched cocklet's time was up, and he went back into protection. 

Wasn't that a lovely treat my love? Just being hard now is going to be what you yearn for. Cocklet in my mouth, sexual relief, pushing into me, my hand wrapped around him... those things are gone now. Cocklet has been promoted to a new level of denial. 

He will now yearn only to be hard... if only he could be erect.

.....


"Thank-You, Mistress"

Sunday 14 June 2015

Difficult Times Lead To A New Focus.

Despite initial appearances of our relationship being perfect, we, like any other couple have our ups and downs. 

Just recently we have had a very serious down. It lead me to a point where I felt I could no longer continue with my boy, and for a short while I left him, with his keys returned.

However, despite our difficulties, I knew I needed him enough to try and mend what had been broken, and after experiencing anger and then grief, I then came to a place where I felt it was possible to rebuild. We have both worked very hard at that.

The problem involved a rule I had made that had been broken, a number of times and of course, covered up to hide it from me. The detail isn't relevant, but what was significant was that I realised my rules were not sacred. They could be broken without my knowing, many times over. 

Rules, were no longer the way to dominate and control my boy.

Initially I felt there was no hope for the future because I based my control on rule and trust. With that gone I had nothing left.

But then, gradually, a new way of controlling him came into my head, from out of nowhere. 

It was clear, that with trust there is always chance for infallibility. He came to me for my control, and I was failing to give it. He proved a rule could be broken easier than snapping a twig. It was not control. And if I provided twigs to be snapped... 

(The truth is, he like anyone suffers from human nature. It is why we have a harsh metal cage encasing his cocklet, because he needs it there. He cannot be trusted with his freedom.)

So I have had a bonfire and there will be no more twigs. I will instead make requests. They will be there for him to respect or not, out of his own choice. He will know my preference, and that is as far as I can go with that.

I started fantasising about financially controlling him. Making him pay me for things. He could not escape that, and I would make it so the things he was paying for, he was begging to pay me. Once the money has left him, he can't reclaim it. That control suddenly became very much more real than a rule. I could really make him suffer, make him poor, cripple him financially. But all by his own doing.. because he would have begged to have paid me. He would be responsible for his own demise.

In the process of him breaking twigs, I feel that I have lost my standing in many respects with him. That is how I feel. I feel I need to rebuild the pedestal on which I once stood. So I am going to limit the physical contact he is allowed with me. His lips may not touch any part of my body other than my hand of my foot without him asking consent. There will of course be a fee involved in his asking for permission.

Instead of kissing me, he will crave to kiss me, to earn the opportunity to pay for a kiss. 

I tell you all this, because life isn't perfect and I don't want to pretend it is for us. We have both suffered these past weeks. 

But we both believe we have something worth working at, and so this new chapter of control begins.



Wednesday 20 May 2015

First Days Play with a New Toy.



It had been 6 months and 5 days. Denied and constantly caged, except for when I let him out, supervised. 

I had a new toy to introduce him to. I had bought it and saved it for a special occasion. Today was the special day. He knew nothing of it, except that he was going to be experiencing something new.





Although it fitted my mouth perfectly when I tested it for size, it was a struggle for him to get it in. We eventually had to compromise with it tilted slightly backwards to accommodate his small jaw stretch. I fastened it tightly behind his head and then proceeded to wrap his head with black cling wrap that I had salvaged from a recent parcel. I kept his mouth free, but it was very easy to apply a smaller piece of the black plastic just over his mouth, to assert control.

I loved how his mouth was held open, ready. An orifice for my amusement. I could put in there whatever I wished to. And, as I did so, I reminded him how it was his duty to serve me. To be obedient. He does forget sometimes, his place. He does, in the every day world forget, and asserts his opinion, his right, his feelings. I very rarely, if ever, say anything at the time. But I save the evidence, and recount the correct manner for a slave when he is appropriately beneath me, mentally.

Today, he was very beneath me. I made him so, and I loved making him so. The things that I dropped into the circular ring which force held his mouth open were bad. They lowered him, and made him something less. They made him my slave. My obedient worshipper, willing to take whatever I dropped into the disposal unit his mouth hole had become.

And then, when he thought I had made my final insult, I asked if he wanted the most disgusting thing ever. At first he couldn't think what could be more disgusting. But he was thinking with his head and not mine. For me, there was the most vile and disgusting thing imaginable yet to come. But it required him to produce it.

And so I placed a plastic bag over his desperate, dancing and straining cocklet. I instructed him to rub against the bed, and as he was ready to produce the most disgusting thing ever, he was to take the last morsel from my hand and devour it. For this, the ring was removed from his mouth.

He told me later that the contents of the bag has been relief to his mouth, after the horrendous things I had placed in there. 

I felt no regret, unease, guilt or lessening of my will for him to consume my offering, despite the way he struggled with it in his mouth. Despite the way he gagged on it. All that did was make me feel proud that my boy was doing this for me. He was taking all that I was giving. It was a very deep act of submission.

It became a very loving act. It became something that brought a closeness. And he, now, when I look at him, is lower. Lower than ever. But I treasure him far more as my slave for committing himself to my will. 

For accepting humiliation for my pleasure.