March 2016

My chains are my security and promise to her.

Discipline takes a firm hand.

Bad girl

I wish I wasn’t so bad all the time. I wish I just knew how to behave and not make him upset. Today would have gone a lot better if I wouldn’t have misbehaved. I’m sorry daddy.

Get What You Want: Just Ask


This afternoon I was having a conversation with a new s-type friend from fetlife about various things and she mentioned acting out in order to be “punished.”

As a D-type there is nothing more frustrating than an s-type ignoring rules/protocols and causing trouble instead of just asking for what they want… One of the classes I took at last year’s Kinkfest opened My eyes to what punishment actually is - the last step in a three step process: correction, discipline, punishment - but that is a different writing.

Back to the subject at hand - asking for what you want. Regardless of dynamic, gender or sexuality you should never feel ashamed to ask for what you need. If you need more structure ask, if you want spankings ask, if you want to eat bon bons and watch Adventure Time because you can’t D/s today ASK! I know this is a crazy concept to some and let’s face it tumblr is perpetuating the ‘Daddy I’ve been bad’ mentality but how simple is it to be honest with your partner and ask for what you want?

Stop being passive-aggressive, stop being unhappy or unfulfilled, get exactly what you want by asking.

While this is important to know, you can’t simply pass it on to your sub and expect her to understand it. A dom is a teacher, and this is one of the lessons you will have to teach.

You’re training her, not just how to suck your cock the way you like, but how to live a mature and fulfilled life. She comes to you because she lacks discipline and focus, and acting out in this way is a sure sign of such. You’re not doing her any favors by letting it slide. You are her mentor, because you’ve already trained yourself in all of this (You HAVE trained yourself in discipline, right?).

She needs a man she respects who will teach her, even when she doesn’t feel like it. And she needs to be put in a position where she has no choice but to follow your tutelage. How you go about that in a practical manner is up to you, but you MUST do it. Otherwise, all you’re doing is playing house.

Hands can touch the skin, but only words can touch the soul.



Breathing. Barely audible through her nostrils. Her eyes, locked with mine, speaking of the trepidation and arousal locked within. A lone strand of drool running out the bottom of her panel gag, stretching, dropping, landing against her stomach. A strand of hair slipped over her eye. I reach out and brush it behind her ear. A tender kiss on her forehead.


My hands, moving along her torso, touching, feeling, exploring her body, exploring her thighs. The gentle movement of her hips. The cupping of her breasts. A deep breath. Bonds that hold her fast. A world that extends no farther than this room. A thumb on her nipple, rough, persistent, unstoppable.

Mezzo Piano

A lithe body restricted. Ankles and wrists spread and locked. Eyes that know there is no way out except through. Desire. Hunger. Longing for my touch. The rough callouses of my fingers, running past her hips, down her thighs, close, so very close. A slight moan of frustration. She catches herself, but I’ve heard it. A gentle brush of her hair. A kiss over her eye. Daddy knows best.


A view from behind. Her beautiful ass. I’m standing so very close. My breath on her neck. My hand around her neck, the other over her breast. Squeezing. Kneading. Her soft skin under my rough hands. Her ass, exposed, rubbing against daddy.

Mezzo Forte

A touch down below. Wet. Pliant. Expectant. A catch in her breath. Moving, spreading the moist. Secondary lips that accept without question. Feeling inside her, each tiny movement amplifying her body’s reaction. Hastened breathing. Drool running helplessly down her chest. Tiny moans in response to fingers more insistent. Gyration of the hips. A synchronicity between owner and owned.


A yelp in response to the sharp squeeze on her nipple. My lips on her neck. The relentless invasion of her cunt. Moans that speak more than words ever could. My hands, everywhere. No part can escape me. Her eyes, closed, hungering for release. Her head pulled back. Her hair in my fist. My fingers violating, taking, owning.


Her voice, muffled, begging. My hand pulling her head back, my mouth over her nose. Her body writhing, shaking, pulling, useless. My cock, feeling, probing, sliding into the wetness. Her cunt, fulfilling its purpose. Her voice, primal. Synchronous breathing. Faster rhythm. Grunts vs moans. Piston. Her voice growing higher, then catching. Shudder. Explosion. Halted breath.


Kisses upon her forehead, upon her eyes, upon her nose, over her gag. My precious girl. The one I’d fight for. The one I’d kill to save. Sweat against sweat. Her limbs sagging in fatigue. A release of her bonds.


Two halves, seated on the couch. Her head in my lap. My hands stroking her hair.

There is only one master.

I crave to own.

You crave to be owned.

The life of a slave.

What a great idea!

Whoa… This girl used to be in my boxing class. I had no idea…

Portrait of a good girl.

The Simple Things

Thock! The wood splits cleanly, each half falling away into the slowly growing pile of cord wood. It takes roughly three trees to make enough wood for our energy needs, which is perfectly sustainable considering the acres of timber out back. There’s something… meditative… about splitting wood. Maybe it’s the exercise. Maybe it’s the focus, all upon that one spot the axe must go. Maybe it’s just the repetition of a simple task… Sometimes simplicity does it best.
Take bondage, for example. Some people like elaborate and pretty rigging jobs that can take literally hours to complete. I don’t really get that. I mean, by the time you’re done tying, you’re too pooped to do anything interesting like torment her. Hell, even with leather or metal people can go pretty overboard. I’d been thinking about that all morning, which is probably what led Meatball to her current predicament. One bar. Just one single metal bar, secured perpendicular to a platform base. I’m sure you’ve guessed what the bar goes into, but that’s not even the fun bit. No, what makes this device truly insidious is the heeled shoes strapped to her feet. No, they’re not special shoes; they’re in fact quite ordinary shoes that she’d wear on a night out. But the thing about high heels is that once they’re on her feet, there’s no lifting her heels any higher. And for want of just a few inches, she could lift herself high enough to get the bar out of her cunt. She’s been trying for quite some time now, tilting, bending, trying to lift a leg, fruitless attempts to lift herself off the bar with her hands… In a way she looks a bit like one of those mannequins attached to a stand, and just as helpless.
A car drives by on the road out front. It’s much too far away for anyone to see, let alone know what’s going on, but I’m sure someone stark naked and impaled on a metal pole wouldn’t quite have the same feeling about it. As she fidgets, I give a mischievous smile and split some more wood.
“Daddyyyyyy, I’m uncomfortable!” she whines. “That’s the whole point, honey.” I reply calmly, setting up some more wood. “But I’m too tired to stand, and it hurts whenever I lose my balance!” “Oh dear,” I say, “How about I help you focus?” Her eyes go wide. “No, daddy, I’m good! I…” “No, I think you need some encouragement.” Her face screws up in the grimace of one who knows her fate is sealed.
I never go anywhere without my belt. I take it off now, letting it trail along behind me as I saunter over to her. “Daddy, please…” she says, her entire face forlorn. She can be so cute. I brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. “Hands behind you.” She obeys, pouting a little. I give a test swing to set the distance, then set into a leisurely rhythm, just brushing her tits. Every now and then I get a good strike on a nipple, and watch her yelp and jump, unable to escape the bar that impales her. Her hands come around to protect her. “I said hands behind your back, princess.” “But daddy…” I cut her off. “Would you rather I left?” Oh yes, I like her eyes now. Her hands return to their proper place behind her back.
I go back to work on her tits just to prove a point, then work my way down to her thighs. I like swinging extra hard on those because it leaves the most beautiful marks on her skin. Now it’s time for her ass. I’ll do it from the front today. I step closer and swing, the belt tip wrapping around her to smack her behind. Smack! Smack! She dances with the belt, singing its broken tune.
And now, the bridge. I step close, grabbing her by the hair. “You’re soaking wet!” I exclaim, feeling her cunt. “Tell me why you’re so wet.” She tries to turn away but I’ve got a fist full of her hair. I look at her expectantly. “Because you’re doing this to me.” she says in a small voice. I stimulate her more. “Do you like it when I rub your cunt?” Nice, round circles. “Yes, daddy.” she says. “Show me how much you like it.” I say. I turn her head towards mine, and we kiss. Oh yes, she’s very much turned on. I change the tempo a bit. Her breathing is up, and her eyes are closed. “Look at me.” I say. She stares deeply into my eyes. But she’s not all there. She’s already floating. “Daddy, may I please cum?” she asks. What the hell, I’m feeling magnanimous today. “Yes you may, meatball.” She starts to shake. I kiss her deeply as she descends into madness.
Yes, it’s the simple things.



Limits are essential to a healthy relationship.

With limits, she always knows her place in the world.
With limits, she knows what to do, how to behave, and what to expect.
With limits, she knows I am in control, keeping her safe and loved.
With limits, she has stability and security.
With limits, she can relax and just be.

Limits are like a house: they provide structure for living, and must have a solid foundation.
A limit that bends or breaks is weak and useless. A man who bends or breaks is weak and not to be trusted with control. Unconsciously, she will act out, testing her man and her limits; testing to see if he is indeed strong enough to keep her.

Though consciously we abhor limits, unconsciously they comfort us in their immovability.

Where to start…

HELLOOOO, SIR! I haven't written in a while so I wanted to ask a bit how You and Meatball are doing. :) Also, this is a bit of a random question but I am curious. Do You personally fancy those latex body-suits? I mean, do You find them aesthetically pleasing? Because it seems You like leather (and what's not to like?) so I was wondering if You liked latex as well. :)

Hi! We’re doing quite well. Latex body suits don’t really do anything for me. I want my girl to be exposed to me.

From meatball - plus I can’t do those suits to tight and not enough space for me to move I’m very claustrophobic as sir and I have found out so suits no good

Her training is progressing nicely.

Open country.

Clean air.

Clean slave.

Mine. Always.

The Great Outdoors

Mmmm… Nothing like cowboy bacon & eggs on a sunny morning in the mountains! I sit back with my plate and a mug of rooibos and watch the morning splendor to match my meal. Meatball’s with me, of course, but she can’t eat quite yet as she’s tied up at the moment. I admire her ass, bent over the stump on the other side of the fire. Truly a picture perfect morning!
I take a mouthful of eggs and pick up my stick, poking her ass a few times before rubbing it between her legs. Things are looking pretty red around her hindquarters on account of her being so close to the fire, but I don’t want her catching a chill. I take another mouthful, then go back to stimulating her. Damn… Now I’m getting hard.
Alright, change of plans. I scarf down the food so it doesn’t get cold, then walk around to the other side of that ass. Sitting in front of her, I stroke her hair gently. “Daddy needs to play with you now, honey.” “Yes, daddy.” she says obediently. I reach behind her and feel for her cunt. “What should I do with this?” I ask. “Whatever daddy wants.” comes her reply. “What I want,” I say, “is for you to suffer for me. Can you do that, princess?” “Yes, daddy.”
I move the stump and Meatball further away from the fire to give me room to work. I start pulling off my belt and smile as I watch her ass wiggle in anticipation. She knows the sound well. The thing about belts is that they’re so useful. With a good belt, I can secure loads, build a makeshift winch, attach things… I can even make handcuffs out of them. And, of course, my favorite use. I fold the belt and feel her ass. It’s still red, but not hot to the touch anymore. “Present it properly!” I order. Her back arches as much as possible, given the circumstances. “Good girl. Are you ready?” “Yes, daddy.”
I wind up and strike my first blow, watching with satisfaction as belt impacts flesh with a satisfying whack. A beautiful stripe forms in its wake. God, she’s so fucking sexy. I give another whack. And another. And another. And another. Stopping for a bit, I squeeze her ass and probe between her thighs. She’s already wet, of course. “Spread your legs out more.” I unroll the belt, letting the tip drag on the ground as I get into position. Now for some real fun.
Smack! Leather on the delicate skin of her cunt. She yelps. “Start counting.” I say. “One.”
Smack! “Two.” Smack! “Three.” Smack! “Ah! … Four.” Smack! “F-five…” That cunt is VERY red now.
I walk around to her front and lift her chin. “What are you doing, princess?” “I’m suffering for you, daddy” she replies. Her words fill me with so much pride! “You’re such a good girl” I say, and kiss her deeply. Such a delicate, beautiful thing. I want to own every part of her. I grab a branch I’d been whittling earlier. The bark is stripped off, as are all the knots. Nature provides a man with everything he needs. I rub it along her ass, giving her a good feel for it before I start. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… SWISH! Her whole body shakes. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… SWISH! Two welts across that beautiful ass. SWISH! SWISH! More stripes. More suffering for me, and I’m rock hard. Down her thighs I go, leaving welt after welt, listening to her yelp. One last stripe for her ass and I’ve had all I can take. I drop my pants. She’s dripping, of course, and I could just go right in, but that’s no fun. I poke. I probe. I rub along the outside, teasing.
“mmmmnnnnnn” she moans. I smack her ass. More probing. I’m over her now, a handful of her hair. “Who do you belong to, girl?” I whisper fiercely in her ear. “I belong to you, daddy!” she says quickly. I push inside her. “nnnh!” She makes the most beautiful sounds. “Now I’m going to take what’s mine!” With a nice steady motion, I push deep into her. In, out, in, out… We’re in rhythm now. I step up the pace, slow the pace, push way up, back off. “Daddy, may I please cum?” she asks “Not yet.” I reply. She’s not getting off that easy. I smack her ass some more before pulling her back by the hair. Her cunt tenses as I hold her head back. I can hear her breath… or is it mine? I piston in and out. Her back arches as she tries to move her ass to lessen the stimulation, but I’m in her and I’m not letting her escape. “Daddy please!” “You hold it, girl!” I’m about to explode myself, but I want this to go longer. I continue my invasion. “WHO DO YOU BELONG TO, GIRL?” I shout as I jackhammer into her. “YOU, DADDY!” “AND WHAT DO I DO WITH MY PROPERTY?” “ANYTHING YOU WANT, DADDYYYYYYYINEEDTOCUMDADDYPLEASE!” “CUM NOW!” I shout, and slam into her. She’s convulsing. I’m convulsing. “nnnnNNNNNAAAH!” I shoot everything into her.
I turn her head and kiss her. “That’s my good girl.”

No words necessary.

And you’ll always be under my command.

Have you been good? No, I don’t think you have…

What have we got here, little girl?

You’re mine now.

Obedience is happiness.




Showing off my loving handiwork.

With me, you belong.

She’s my precious girl.

Daddy’s home

Every man needs a workshop.

She’s mine. I don’t share.