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It is I, Monssieur Notasub.

by on April 17, 2013

I keep forgetting to set up the blog account for a guest blogger spot. Thanks for that tip Mrs. Fever and also for the nickname. I think the last couple of weeks I have answered to that nickname more than any of the others she has for me.

I have been ordered to post. Okay, no I haven’t. She asked me to read the most recent postings, the comments and add some “guy who wants to be the slave” context to her thoughts. She didn’t demand it and she said it with a sweet and innocent smile, a smile that always has a hint of “Hey you asked; you told me you wanted it to be my idea and to do it my way, you-asked-you-got” in it. Be careful what you wish for.

This is her way of being the severe, strict dominant I said I want. Her way: tormenting me by making me openly own my misguided notions of what D/s is about, that is her favorite dominant activity. She’s not so much into physical punishment and torment, but mental castigation and torture, the woman should be a C.I.A. operative.

I wish she would order me. I fantasize a lot (too much maybe) about her gruffly ordering me, demanding harshly that I perform “such and such” and that I do “such and such” naked, with a home-built CBT leash/torture device  that I spent hours dreaming up then secretly crafting as a “gift for her”.  This is where she would groan and roll her eyes, shake her head and point out it never ceases to amaze her how these “gifts” for her always seem to benefit my kinky nature and add more work to her “job” as the Domme.

A few times she has pointed out my offering her “gifts” like this is me re-gifting a gift I surreptitiously got, things bought or constructed without asking her if it is something she would like to add to our kinky play list, for myself  then supposing/wanting her to be as happy to receive it as I was and be totally excited about using it like “it” was something she would ask for, on her own, when in reality it was my idea and I just hope she will  “get on board and play along and act like it was just exactly what she wanted and I am such a good sub for being able to anticipate what she would want to do to and with me”.

I hate it when she sees through me like this; hate it when she makes this kind of sense. It sure messes up my fantasies. When I point this out, she giggles like the ornery prankster she is and tells me for her, it is the same as the ruined orgasm play I crave, it is just a short cut version, the orgasm is ruined in my big head not my little head; my turn to groan and roll my eyes.

In my fantasy when she wants me to do something for her, she orders me to strip, then she roughly attaches the home-built CBT contraption to my testicles and leads (drags) me around the house demanding I do chores as she tells me how worthless I am as a man, how inadequate my penis is and how it is useless to her. She does not spare the crop she has in her hand, or the toe and long spiked heel of her boot, using them to emphasize her words. Of course I am firmly locked up in one the cock blocking devices and of course she is in a sexy corset with a garter attached to nylons, open crotch panties and thigh high boots.

What it really looks like when she asks me to do something for her:

I am busy doing something related to taking care of the real world we live in; shuffling business paper work, working on something around the house that needs fixed, maybe if I have time, tinkering away in my work shop, doing something with our son and if our son isn’t there, I am probably working on another home-built torture device that I am just hoping will be “the one”.

That “one”, that when I hand it to her as a “gift”, it will be the one where she says “Oh my goodness! How did you know I was going to command you to build one of these for me? How did you know I have been dreaming of owning something just like this to use on you. How did you know I was just thinking, spent hours and hours thinking, ‘if I only had this then I could really make him beg for my unrelenting mercy!’ You are such a wonderful and unselfish slave! Always only thinking of what is best for me, thinking only about my wants and needs as your Domme!  Oh you know me so well, you get me and what I want as your Domme! Now get naked RIGHT NOW and let me put this wonderful, thoughtful oh -so-amazing gift to use on you, you tiny dicked worthless piece of scum!”

Sorry, that’s not where this was supposed to go, but a guy can’t help it sometimes.

What it really looks like when she asks me to do something for her, last night, I was doing some paper work and she popped into my office and said;

“Hey Babes, I’m kinda in a ‘sit and spin’ mode with the blogging process.  I would really appreciate it, when you have time, if you could help me out, like some kind of input from your take on us. Lady Feve plopped me into another blogger’s blog and now I am up to my couchie in crocs trying to get my thoughts to gel, so I can get the damned Jello to stay nailed down.  I hate “type talking” for you and before I go any farther, well, I kinda need you to take the lead on it and run with it. So when you have time?” And there’s that “smile” I wrote about earlier.

Here I am at work making the time to do this for her. I couldn’t do it last night because I did have to finish the paper work because the real world that I live in, have to live in to make the money to make sure my family has what it needs, demanded I have it ready for a meeting, and alert enough to present it at 05:30. I am almost three hours into trying to get this typed up, due to the real world getting in the way of my doing this for her.  I hate the real world; it isn’t as much fun as my fantasy world. And there are days I don’t like my wife so much for making me stay in the real world. But there isn’t a moment that I don’t count on the fact and thankful for the fact I am blessed with a strong dominant woman who isn’t afraid of living in the real world, making the kink work in the real world as she helps (forces?) me adjust my kinky nature to the real world we have to live in, even when she doesn’t do it the way I wished for.

I will know I did what she asked if I find out she is going to reward me for “following orders” here. I will be on pins and needles until she lets me know I have earned a kink reward. All I can do is sit and wait. If I bug her about it, even if I did earn a reward, I won’t get it. I may not know, she may not even see this today. The real truth of the real world, the real world may get in the way of me getting to fall into the fantasy world, by her hand, by her crop, the world I would rather be in by knowing I will get a reward.

She’s busy today getting ready to go out-of-town. Tonight it will be a mad rush to get a suit case packed; she will unpack what I pack and sort thru it and change her mind at least a dozen times. We (I) will be making sure her car is ready, fueled up; fluid levels checked and stocked with her favorite travel munchies/drinks for the four-hour drive. A thermos for coffee will be prepped for in the morning. Tonight I will make reservations at the hotel of her choice. She will change her mind at least twice before she settles on the one she wants me to make the reservation at.

She will fuss about her hair, how she wished she’s gone and got it trimmed because it looks to frizzy. I will grab the hair scissors and trim it for her. A skill I taught myself after she came home in tears one day after a bad haircut and swore she would never go to a hair stylist again, that she would just whack it all off butch style. I love her hair long, the last thing I want is for her to cut it or have it be a nuisance for her. It was in my best interest to learn how to at least trim it for her.

We will go through all this, looking like a typical suburban couple, but what is really up, she is getting ready to go spend a couple of days with guy #2. All of this frantic getting ready will be done in full view of our son and the neighbors, so needless to say I won’t be naked, dragged around by my balls encased in a CBT styled torture device. But in my mind, I will be the cucked slave, being dragged around by the balls by a foxy hot red-haired domineering Domme, thrilled to be her slave and to be at her mercy.

Sorry, that’s not where this was supposed to go, but a guy can’t help it sometimes.  😉

  1. KATHY permalink



  2. You’re welcome. 😉

    And Serendipity is TOTALLY a C.I.A. operative, duh. Serendipity the Super Secret Spy! Yeesh, Monssieur. Get with the program. *grins*

    I love the way you describe your headspace, M. The fantasy and the reality are bound to collide, but the fact that you can survive that collision without casualties… And not only live to tell about it, but to tell about it with humor… It speaks highly of your relationsip with Madame Serendipity McKink.

    I enjoyed reading your perspectives. I hope you’ll contribute more often. 🙂


  3. This was a lucid, flowing description of what goes on in your head. I’m going to ask Mr.Tungsten what he thinks about this, see if any of it resonates with him. Thanks for contributing. Please send a shout-out to Serendipity for making you.


  4. Thank you all for the words of encouragement; unlike my wife, I’m not fond of posting but I am learning to appreciate the cathartic process she talks about when I ask her why she does it with such vigor. I’ll try to kick up my level of participation. I know “Serendipity” would like for me to be more involved, maybe when she sees this she will demand I do it. 😉


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