Thorney's Stuff

2010-01-18T19:13:00.005-05:00

Gaak! Geocities closed! And a bunch of my stuff was there, organized in web-page fashion rather than blog fashion. I guess I'll have to put it here, pending a better solution.

Do I have it all in one place, or do I need to collect it from about six? Probably the latter.
Back soon...

I've put some of the stuff in my "writing" section at fetlife.com
I'm also collecting stuff at

http://sites.google.com/site/thorneystories/

which may be an easier place to store and find stuff.

2009-08-03T19:30:00.002-04:00

(Based in part on discussions in fetlife.com)

White Silk Story
(Erotic submission at age 85.)
Mrs. Thorney and I have been extremely happily married for over 26 years. She is 85, I'm just short of 65. Our sex life was extremely active until stortly after her 83rd birthday, when she was badly injured in a mugging (chipped teeth, and two surgeries to put her broken shoulder back together, among other problems.) Her recovery was remarkable, but in the last two years she has had other occasional minor health problems.

Unfortunately, several of these have made conventional intercourse difficult or impossible for greater or lesser periods, and, at 85, getting tissue flexibility back in the vagina takes longer than it did when she was younger. So we are coming to adjust to the fact that there will be extended periods when we can't have conventional intercourse, and especially can't fuck as vigorously or uninhibitedly or extendedly as we have so often enjoyed in the past. Anal sex is uncomfortable for her (hemmorroids acquired over the course of having five children.)

Now, I like lots of sex and sexplay. She likes lots of attention and affection, and adores assurance that she is still wanted, lusted after, and the world's greatest expert in keeping me happy. So it is worth spending time thinking about how one maintains a very sexy D/s relationship while respecting medical limits. And in the last few weeks we have had so many
grandchildren in residence that play has had to be restricted to our bedroom and kept on the quiet side, although we've enjoyed planning and fantasizing about what we can do once we have the house back to ourselves. And one line of reasoning has been thinking in terms of the "white silk" slaves of Gor, slave girls who are completely owned, being trained as pleasure slaves, but whose virginity is being preserved for their eventual purchaser. It is a very minor point in the Gor books, but has been a stimulating line of reasoning for me, and very helpful in making Mrs. Thorney feel desirable, loved, wanted, and appreciated despite any disabilities of age.

Of course I also want to keep her sex drive up - both her satisfaction level and her desire to get back to conventional intercourse. So I've been working on a list, activities we have been enjoying in recent months or expect to enjoy next week when the kids have gone home. I very much hope that other people will contribute suggestions.

What things would you find erotic or otherwise satisfying in this situation? Or what do you think a Gorean slave dealer might do to train a girl for sale to a Master who wanted to "open" the girl himself?
- - -
Clothing of course is at the discretion of the Master. In day-to-day practice, I don't bother myself with selecting her clothing except for choosing her panties (if any) and insisting on skirts or dresses so that I can reach up under easily or flip them up for a spanking. I also prefer front-opening bras.

Requiring the girl to exercise naked, under close supervision, and to learn what poses and motions the Master finds most provocative. In our case this is especially important, as maintaining strength and flexibility (to a level that astounded her physical therapists and doctors after her arm surgeries and a spinal dislocation) are things she is properly proud of. I
won't list all the therapist-recommended exercises, but note a few as being ones I love to insist upon -

- head down, ass up, arms stretched forward, hold position until released. If the slave's bottom is touched, she should present it invitingly and try to spread her asscheeks to improve access.

- lie on back, knees bent, legs spread. Roll pelvis to raise pubic area as high as she can. Pulse pubic area up and down. Be prepared to suck and lick any part Master presents to her lips or to reach to hold vaginal lips apart if he wants to play with her vagina.

- standing, legs spread, bend as far as she can, try to place hands on floor. Await whatever Master decides to do.

- crawling naked on floor, kiss and lick Master's feet from all sides.

- Kneel, kowtow, kiss Master's feet. Come up slowly, rubbing hair between Master's spread legs and brushing hair against his balls. Kiss cock, stand up and present breasts for him to squeeze. Kneel and repeat.

Licking cock and balls.
Lots of practice to find the techniques of ball-licking, ball-sucking, licking of perineum that are most stimulating to Master.
Determining places and postures comfortable for extended cock kissing and sucking. Kneeling, seated in chair, low stool, etc.

Determining, by experiment, the best places in the house to bend over to present the slave's ass for spanking or other use by the Master. Ideally, there should be a place in each room and none of them should be neglected for too many days running.

Spanking games - how hard can the slave be spanked without making any noise? How loud can a spanking be made without

hurting too much?

Erotic posing, with and without bondage - mastering a list of Gorean slave display positions. Learning to hold highly exposed poses while the Master pokes, pinches, etc., with the slave not moving until released verbally. Mrs. Thorney does not enjoy being in tight bondage, but is wonderful at posing for convincing bondage photographs using fake knots or elastic cords (and I get as much pleasure out of requiring her verbally to hold the position for as long as I like, as I would from real bondage. Besides, she licks much better and longer when she isn't really uncomfortable.)

It is important for the slave to realize that her entire body is owned, appreciated, and valued by the Master. One way to do this is to develop masturbating techniques that will spread the Master's fluids on as many parts of the slave's body as possible. Masturbating between the slave's bottom cheeks allows rubbing the fluid over the back; having the slave squeeze the cock between her breasts allows spreading fluid over the chest and neck. (While shoulder injuries ruled out some more common positions two years ago, she also learned to jerk me off with her feet. I like to stress to her that I have the right to fuck any part of her, her entire body is my property.)

The slave must also learn to express her desire for and appreciation of her Master. I try to be responsive whenever she comes and rubs her bottom or her pussy against me or guides my hand to her pussy or elsewhere. Expressing desire for attention is not "Topping from the bottom" in our house, it is a form of submissiveness. Keeping Master informed as to the
slave's level of excitement - if it isn't obvious by motion or posture, is required. And specific acknowledgment ("Thank you, Master") is required anytime the slave climaxes from any stimulation other than conventional intercourse.

One addition by Mrs. Thorney is that she likes to make up silly songs, e.g. "Yes, Master, Yes" repeated over and over to a tune she likes. I enjoy having her sing this while I am spanking her or squeezing her breasts, etc.

Other ideas in any of these categories, or others?

2007-08-25T23:18:00.000-04:00

More politics than bondage

I'm not sure what gets me to venture into politics here. I guess browsing in other blogs and following links in Flickr etc. led me to pictures of Wonder Woman tied up, etc., and somehow I was reminded of this cartoon of John Q. Public thoroughly tied up in recording tape, vintage 1970, during the government - wiretapping - the - public scandal of that year.

http://www.loc.gov/rr/print/swann/herblock/images/s03488u.jpg

I'm a great fan of Herblock and it is nice to have a large collection of his cartoons available on-line; a remarkable number are very timely. Perhaps the fact that I like him so much means I don't even have to mention actual political opinions here.

2007-08-23T14:25:00.001-04:00

A desire to have some of the advantages of a girl...

I was reading a recent post of another blogger, at

http://maybemaimed.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-want-to-be-pretty-boy.html

and it reminded me of a post I'd made just over 6 years ago. So here is the part of it I can easily find...
---
.... While I love hearing "Please Master" and "Yes Master" from my wife, it is no secret around here that I work pretty hard to keep her happy and even expect her to let me know what is needed to keep her happy, even if it comes with a "Please, Master" in the preface.

The intensity of the pleasure I get out of making her happy startles me (and her) sometimes. I sometimes think the 'Please, Master' stuff is my way of protecting my ego as I (happily) do things for her. Where does this urge, the intensity of this pleasure, come from in me? I think I can say a few words about one of the fantasies in my mind.

.... As a young man I was very much taken by Marilyn Monroe movies. And I found that I mentally revised somewhat the character she so often plays, the sweet sexy young nightclub entertainer who has attracted the interest of the successful older businessman.

Now, Marilyn isn't really dumb. Rather, she is smart enough to know when to play dumb. And she gets, from my point of view, a pretty good deal. Her businessman is busy enough that Marilyn has some time to do her own thing; she has a job for fun and pin money but isn't financially dependent on it and can cut a day or sass the boss when she wants. She has her man pretty well wrapped around her finger and gets what she wants. In exchange she is available when needed, attentive, affectionate, ready to run off on a trip or to a party, and, one suspects, ready to hop into bed when needed. [Note: I'm reciting the Marilyn Monroe fantasy I built up, which is not quite the same as the role she actually portrays].

I -thought- the male viewer was supposed to identify with one of the men in the movie - the young guy smitten with Marilyn, or the older man who Marilyn attracted. But I didn't want to be them. I wanted to be Marilyn. She didn't have to work more than she wanted to for the fun of it, didn't have to solve her own problems, didn't have to act strong and independent - all she had to do was be desirable, be available when wanted, and know when to play dumb. It seemed to me she got a much better deal out of it than the men did.

Now, I did have a reasonably normal, and reasonably successful, academic career. ... And other than that we tended to follow the time-honored tradition: she decided the small issues, and I only took charge of the important issues, (like when would be a convenient time to have my cock sucked. :) Actually, we divide decision making pretty well. She's better at major financial decisions than I am, so she makes them.)

And as years went on, we've grown happier and closer together. My wife retired 13 years before I did, giving her more time to make me happy, and more time for other activities. As I approached retirement, I watched how she spent her time and increasingly took time away from the office to join her. I enjoyed the social rounds and trips she suggested. I found that I really -liked- coming when called, especially as she mastered the right way to do the calling.

(Phone call at office: "My pussy is awfully wet, Master, and I think I need to change panties. Do you have time to come pick me out a pair?")

We had enough money, between us, that I could retire - which meant I could and did sass the boss when indicated.

And I mentioned one day to a psychologist (as I discussed some other retirement issues) that I was finally managing to live a large part of my Marilyn fantasy. With my wife as the successful older businessman, and me as the (not-so-)young sex object - enjoying my job and the 'pin money', but no need for it financially, and getting all the sex and love I wanted, with my main job being to be available for my wife when wanted and to make sure that she knew I felt her to be infinitely desirable (which I do).

I described the Marilyn fantasy and he looked at me a bit as if I had two heads. "You really like that?" "Well," I said, "it appeals to me a lot more than your job. After all, what's wrong with a job where the principal duties include being found highly sexually desirable, being ready to run off on a trip or to a party, talking a lot about subjects of mutual interest, and the pay just happens to include all the sex that I want." He looked me over, grinned strangely, and changed the subject...

2007-08-18T21:52:00.000-04:00

Progress report, August 18, 2007

I haven’t been giving frequent reports lately, but occasional milestones merit celebrating.

Mrs. Thorney, age 83, continues to recover from the mugging on June 3, in which the most serious injury was a multiple break in her right shoulder. The pins holding it together temporarily came out July 20 and the last bandages off July 26. The last of the mugging bruises faded the first week of August and only a few minor bruises from the July 20 surgery remain.

Arm movement is returning, and the August 16 x-rays of the shoulder joint show that bones have moved back to close to correct positions. She can raise her right arm upward or outward about 90 degrees and the physical therapist can lift it to 120 to 140 degrees, a faster than predicted progress. Outward rotation (elbow at side, forearm horizontal) is still extremely limited. That (rotator cuff) is usually the last muscle to recover. There is still some tenderness on the right shoulder and upper arm, somewhat limiting hugs and positions.

“Normal” sex life is back to close to normal - after two months of no penetration it has taken some patience to get the vaginal tissues back to pain-free flexibility, and she still prefers that I position myself so it doesn’t quite go”all the way in” but enjoys vigorous thrusting short of that point. (This does not make me wish I had a smaller penis on a permanent basis, but it would be convenient just now.) I haven’t given up kissing and rubbing her feet - it’s a wonderful way of turning us both on, and that consequence of her injury will be a permanent addition to our repertoire.

During the first two weeks of August we were in a family reunion / granddaughter’s wedding situation, often with 9 children or grandchildren in the house with us. The end of that period and having the house to ourselves has merited real celebration, particularly as she has so much more freedom of movement now than two weeks ago. So I’ve turned the thermostat temperature up (why not save money during a major heat wave?) to make clothing unnecessary and am very much enjoying having her run around the house naked. I’ve been making a bit of a pest myself that way, in fact - I think I took about 80 pictures yesterday, getting her into odd poses in places in the house I’d never thought to pose her before. I’ve also gotten out all the impractical tiny and see-through panties that we hadn’t enjoyed much in the last few months and am having her do “fashion shows” and strip-teases for me. (Bras are a problem, mainly just left off - she can’t work a standard rear-fastening bra just now and we’ve gotten some front-fastening ones but they are more practical than sexy-fun.)

While she is going to the physical therapist three times a week for arm exercises, it is only in the last few days she has been able to resume the other stretches and such that I find fun to watch (especially when she is naked.) And this morning came a major breakthrough when she said, “Hey, there is something I need to do - stand right here. No, a few inches that way.” And then she knelt down, got way down and kissed my feet - and got herself back up without help, having positioned herself to use her left arm to pull and push on a blanket chest. It’s the first time since the mugging June 3, and real cause for celebration!

2007-07-31T22:30:00.001-04:00

2007-06-22
Where does the sub sleep?

There are a great many images in literature of where the sub / slave sleeps. We can ignore the dungeon or stable, chained in the corner, in a wire cage in the middle of the living room; not my style. Kneeling naked in a wall niche, ready at hand, or on a pile of furs at the foot of the Master's or Mistress's bed - those have a sensuality of them that I can fantasize about, even get an erection from - but I wouldn't want to live them, on either side of the power equation.

Mrs. Thorney has been my wife and toy and sex object for many years, and I want her in bed, next to me, naked and available. We regret any circumstance when we have to give up any of those things - naked, available, and touching or in easy reach. Stuck in a twin-bedded room when traveling, we'll sleep together in one bed rather than give up the closeness.

But when she was mugged and seriously injured June 3, that was no longer a possibility. When I moved her from the hospital bed to a hotel bed June 7, she was still sore all over,heavily bandaged, right arm strapped to her body, a needle ("port") in her left arm for intravenous. On June 22nd, she still has the arm strapped to her body, plenty of bruises and tender spots, and hugging or cuddling or even random touching is still out of the question.

As I've said before, the main places I can touch are her feet and her legs below the knees. She is not sleeping well, and I can expect to be awakened at any time, literally "24/7", to talk, to fetch her a drink, find her a book to read, help her in the bathroom, or rub her feet. If she decides that she does want to go back to sleep, kissing and cuddling her feet, rubbing them, gentle stroking of her calves, is one of the best ways to soothe her, make her feel loved, and let her go back to sleep.

So if I'm going to be doing my job - whether you call me a companion, a lover, a submissive - I have to be in easy call, in easy reach, and even in easy reach of her feet. And, as it happens, sleeping beside her in our usual way is -not- a feasible solution.

First, sleeping beside her, I may unconsciously reach out to touch her. And I mustn't. Being able to get in and out of bed means she has to be on her back or left side, with the edge of the bed at her left. That puts her badly injured right side near me or on top, the area of her that will be do-not-touch for some time to come.

Second, her right side is so tender that even disturbing or pulling on the sheet or blanket over her can be painful for her. So I can't share a sheet or blanket.

We asked an orthopedic surgeon about sleeping arrangements. He said he didn't think she could use a bed at all: she should be propped up in a reclining chair, with pillows. She will nap that way during the day, but wouldn't give up closeness to me at night. What could be done to increase the sense of normalcy, increase the sense of closeness, and, perhaps most importantly, increase my availability to do what she wants when she wants it?

We took a pile of pillows. We built a sort of nest for her in the bed. It is just a double bed (what would we want a larger one for, normally?) so there wasn't much room for me. But what room there was was much wider at the foot of the bed than at the head. The solution: make the bed, or nest, for her, and then put a pillow for me at the foot, give me a separate sheet, and have me lie parallel to her but with my head at her feet. My face is near her feet, ready to kiss or lick. If my arms reach out, I touch her legs - the part that I can touch. I can hug, kiss, cuddle, rub her legs and kiss and caress her feet whenever she wants, and as long as she wants.

It isn't the conventional sleeping arrangement for the submissive. I've never seen it in the "literature". But it works for us.

--

Is there any other couple here that has a sleeping arrangement of possible interest to the group? Does anyone in real life do any of the things that appear in the porn stories?

--

This is the end of the sequence of reports that I'd roughed out before the relatives arrived. So it may possibly be the last for awhile. I'll report back again when there is more to report and time to do so. Comments and discussion are invited.

And any notes that I can pass on to Mrs. Thorney, telling her how wonderful or helpful or ingenious she is or has been (or our postings have been) now or in the past, things she can read while convalescing, would be especially welcome. (She is now able to edit pictures using the mouse, but trying to type isn't working yet.)
--
Thorney

2007-07-31T01:07:00.000-04:00

2007-06-22
The practical foot fetishist

I've never had a foot fetish. But I do read a lot, and over the years I've found an acquaintance with odd practices useful at times. I mentioned in this group perhaps five years ago that "sadistic nurse" fantasies and forced enema practices had never seemed the slightest bit erotic to me. But then I got to an age and family history situation where I needed periodic colonoscopies to check for colon cancer. The first one was long enough ago that the preparation involved three consecutive enemas, and the procedure (performed while conscious) requires running a rather large and frightening tube unreasonably far up through the victim's (er, patient's) anus. I've read appropriate pornography each time as part of my pre-op preparations, and it has helped. At least once the attending nurse noticed my rather large and inappropriately timed erection, but said nothing, and the sexual excitement does make the procedure much more bearable. (Mrs. Thorney hates it when she has the procedure, and thinks my solution is thoroughly nuts.)

When Mrs. Thorney was mugged June 3, she was rather extensively injured and lost a lot of blood, internally. Over the next four days she turned black and blue essentially everywhere but the legs below the knees. And there were aches and pains almost everywhere, to the point that very few spots on her could be touched. The mouth injuries meant no kisses for about 10 days, and even now (June 22) only very gentle ones. The badly broken shoulder means no hugs at all for six weeks or more, no serious ones for months. In fact. about the only part of her that -could- be touched in the first week or two was her lower legs and feet. And if that was the place where affection could be physically expressed, well, that's the part I was going to learn to love and be turned on by.

I was, as I've explained in earlier posts, at her feet pretty constantly. It started with adjusting socks, shoes, wheelchair footrests, as well as kneeling at her feet to get her panties on and off and wipe her bottom at the toilet. But I needed to kiss, she needed to receive kisses, and her feet were the surface that was available. They've gotten a lot of kisses in the last two weeks or so, and perhaps when one concentrates so much on kissing a particular spot, when it is the main place one can kiss, it is not unreasonable to fixate on it. I've come to adore her feet, to love kissing her feet, to feel privileged to be able to touch and play with them.

She has wanted her feet rubbed frequently, her lower legs rubbed often. I caress her, kiss her, love her, kneeling or lying naked at her feet, curled around her feet, adoring her. I curl up at her feet in bed.

As she improved she wanted her feet washed, she wanted her toenails filed. I've done some toenail work for her in the past, but it was much briefer and an entirely different game (when she has clothes on, it is a chance for me to look up her skirt.) this was different, as she was micro-managing to an extent I'd never have tolerated before. Which toenail, what angle to hold the file, how long a stroke and at what speed. I was naked at her feet, submissive, loving being micromanaged, reveling in the occasional pat of approval on my head.

And with the feet clean and toenails under control, the feet were even more tempting. I've learned to lick her feet, get my tongue between her toes, and been allowed to suck her toes. Her nipples are unavailable, blocked by the shoulder immobilizing harness. Even now that the soreness in her hip is low enough that spreading her legs might be possible, she doesn't want her clit played with - she tends to thrash around when excited, and that would hurt other places and/or endanger the shoulder. The tenderness in her shoulder makes getting to an earlobe tricky. So her toes are what I have to suck on, and I've learned to do it. I can not only get an erection very quickly by sucking her toes, I'm learning to get an erection just be thinking about being naked at her feet, sucking her toes. (Which I can't do just now, darn it, a granddaughter is here talking with her.) And she is reveling in being so loved, so sexually desirable even in her present condition.

I have masturbated to climax once by rubbing on her lower leg, puppy-dog fashion. But that didn't work that well for me, and was an inconvenient position for her. So she suggested I try using her feet. I smeared KY jelly on my cock and balls and we've experimented with my rubbing my cock all over her feet, squeezing it between her feet (using my hands to press them together), her playing with my balls with her toes. It is more incredibly exciting than I'd imagined possible.

I'm hooked, thoroughly. I doubt I'll give up loving her feet even when she has fully recovered. And she's enjoying one more way of being irresistible to me.

(At least one more report to come, but writing may be delayed with the kids around.)

--
Thorney

2007-07-31T01:02:00.000-04:00

2007-06-21
(Un)dressing the male submissive

Continuing the story of how we dealt with the mugging of Mrs. Thorney.

On June 3 Mrs. Thorney was mugged. The shoulder surgery was June 5. And June 7 I spirited her out of the hospital, to a hotel across the street.

I don't know if it was just being practical, or careless, or actually planned. It was what I wanted, but I'd never have raised the issue at that point. I was too busy and too tired to tell. The first time I got her from the hospital room into the hotel room, I was hot and sweaty. She had a mild fever (up maybe half a degree Celsius, one degree Fahrenheit.) She was cold and shivery, I was too hot. I stripped my clothes off as I piled blankets on her. It seemed comfortable that way, so that's the way it was, when we were in the hotel room, the next few days.

And I realized that it turned me on to be naked while waiting on her. She really didn't notice at first, but once she became aware that I was deliberately being either naked or wearing just primary-color cotton bikini underpants,we talked about it. She said it didn't make a difference to her - she really didn't get anything from looking at me naked, for her it is about affection and attention and touch, not visual - but if that was how I wanted to dress, OK. I said it turned me on, but I hadn't yet (then) figured out why that was the case.

And once she realized I was turned on by it, she got into the game nicely. Once her left hand was functional (swelling and bruising from having had needles in it for four days or so went down) she could easily pat my bottom, pat or squeeze my cock, roll my balls around between her fingers. I loved and love the order, "get your pants down", when she doesn't want the cotton in the way.

We got back home to Memphis June 17. The next morning she was sitting at the dining room table, and looked out into the garden.
Mrs: "The garden needs weeding, and we need to move some flowers
where I can see them from here."
Mr: I said, "OK, shall I do that after breakfast?"
Mrs: "No, do it now."
Mr: "Wait, I'll go get some pants."
Mrs: "What do you need pants for? No one is likely to see in unless
the meter reader comes, and he could see you even where you are
right now."

It worked. I recall a lot of images from porn of slave girls being required to work in the garden naked, bottoms raised for the owner's enjoyment, perhaps prodded on by an occasional pat with the cane or whip. No cane or whip here, but I've been spending an hour or so on my hands and knees in the garden each morning, practically naked. June 19 and 20 (today) she felt well enough to cautiously walk out and supervise.

I've always hated gardening with her in the past, since she has a strong tendency to micromanage. (We usually end up dividing labors so as to not be working in the garden at the same time.) She now has her chance to micromanage. "Pull that weed. Now that one. The one two inches to the left. Move that plant about three inches forward from where you are planting it...." I'm adoring being micromanaged, and thriving on it. And she rewards me by coming up from behind and squeezing or rubbing my balls just often enough to keep it very sexy and very loving. When the grandchildren start to arrive to visit, I'm really going to miss this part - but I guess I can do it in a bathing suit, and Mrs. Thorney and I will know what we are both thinking about.

Sleeping is still irregular. (More on that in a later post). She gets uncomfortable after two hours or so, and gets us up for an hour or three. And we've done a lot of sitting and talking, in the wee hours, trying to understand what is going on between us (and celebrating it!). We've been having the best discussion of my urges and responses and fantasies that we have ever had.

So she has asked: why do I want, while serving her, to be naked, (or, for practicality, wearing just primary-color bikini underpants)? I think I have an idea.

I love seeing her running around in practically nothing. I love the view, I love to be able to touch, I love the fact that she is doing it to please me. It feeds my dom urge, by expressing her submission, it gives me a sense of ownership (the fact that she doesn't admit to feeling any sense of submission when has done this for me in the past is irrelevant. She says she does it because it makes me happy, attentive, gets her attention.)

But it will be many weeks, or months, until I can have her running around the house naked. Maybe six months until she can crawl to kiss my feet. But I do need to keep up, even more than usual, my interest in her, my attentiveness, my responsiveness. And if I'm essentially undressed, I am constantly aware of it. I notice the breeze when I move, the sensation when I sit down. I need to be aware of where I am and where a robe is in case the doorbell rings.

(Hmm - when she is undressed and I'm dressed, she can get out of sight while I answer the bell. But right now she can't get to the door in time, usually. And if I'm the sub, it is my job to answer it anyway.)

Being aware of my state of undress constantly reminds me to think of her, her needs, her desires. It reminds me of the sexuality of our relationship. I can understand that it doesn't say "sex" to her - but she understands that it does say that, to me.
And another thing. I want her. I want her body. I want her desperately. And I want her to want me as badly as I want her. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel she wants my body the same way I want hers. Now, rationally, I know full well that men and women react differently - that a lot of it is visual for me, a lot of it is genital-oriented. For her, I know, it is about attention, affection, cuddling. She does love lovemaking, sex, climax, but those aren't in her thoughts as constantly as they are in mine.

She isn't turned on by my taking my clothes off, the way I am when she is undressed. But, at some subconscious level, I want her to be. I want to be as sexy for her as she is for me. So I want her to want my clothes off. By letting me serve her with my clothes off, she is respecting and responding to my desire to be wanted in that way.
She may not enjoy my exhibitionism the way I wish she did, but she allows it, understands it, respects it, honors it. And she does so very explicitly, by frequently during the day giving my cock a squeeze, patting my balls, rolling my balls around between her fingers.

It's a modest sexual reward, compared to what we had in better times, but -- wow! wow! wow! I'm loved! I'm wanted! She wants my body! I am put into heaven (and sometimes a massive erection) by a simple touch. As a submissive, I'm loved and wanted and appreciated and, right now, I'm in heaven.

--
Thorney

2007-07-30T23:40:00.001-04:00

2007-07-21
The Practical Submissive

Thorney as submissive (domestic and personal service)

OK. My adored wife and sex toy of nearly 24 years, age 83, was badly injured (mugged) on June 3. It was pretty obvious that she was going to need to be waited on, quite literally, hand and foot, for at least two to six weeks. And it may be months before she can kneel to kiss my feet and call me "Master".

But we are a flexible couple, and it was clearly time to pull out all my male-sub fantasies and what I've read on the subject. How do I make her feel not only cared for, but loved, wanted, desirable and sexy? She loves attention and affection, and the former is easy enough - but I couldn't even kiss her badly bruised mouth, and she was pretty much bruises all over except the lower legs. (Yes, there will be an essay on foot fetishism in a later post).

And if I was going to keep me as attentive as I really do want to be, it would help to have rewards for me in it, too.

I'm extremely grateful for the essays I've read here and elsewhere on service subs, sex subs, toilet subs, foot subs, almost every variation that has gone by - as well as the scenes I remember from both good and bad porn, from the rough treatment of subs in Ann Rice's Beauty series to the gentler and more practical considerations in the wonderful guides to slave training in the "Miss Abernathy" books. I've drawn on a remarkable number of them to motivate myself and to find ways to entertain her, and me, and keep us close, loving, exploring new things. We've spent a lot of time talking about what we've done, what we might do, and even about my motivations, which I think I understand a lot better now. (More on that in a later post).

From the outset I was at her feet a lot - quite literally. She couldn't even wipe her own bottom, and much preferred having me do it in the hospital to having the nurses do it. The nurses were happy to save the labor, and the other women in the ward were obviously impressed with how attentive I was.

They watched me kneel to adjust her shoes and socks, fix the footrests on wheelchairs, and so on. - they commented to her on how much in love I
obviously was, and she bragged about her skill in having caught me. I've learned many other times I can make an excuse to be on my knees at her feet - rubbing her feet, adjusting a sock, but even things like cutting her meat (since she still isn't up to knife-and-fork) in a restaurant. I don't know how the public would react to a young healthy couple doing what we do, but she is a white-haired grandmother, obviously disabled, and I'm a bald white-bearded grandfather. People are tolerant of us and the usual reaction is "Isn't that sweet!" "Isn't that loving!", "Isn't he attentive!"

She gets to brag about how wonderfully helpful I am to her, how supportive, how much in love we are - and I feel as proud of being on my knees as the mythical Gorean slave girl whose Master is showing off her obedience and/or sexual tricks to a perfect stranger in a bar.

What are some guidelines I try to follow? I recall someone in this
newsgroup who explained how she, B, related to her dom, A.
(1) A does whatever A wants.
(2) Whenever A wants her to, B does whatever A wants.
(3) Otherwise, B does what B wants.

(3) hasn't been much of an option in the last 17 days. She needs a drink, needs help in the bathroom, needs a cushion moved, needs her chair adjusted, needs a Velcro binding adjusted so it doesn't chafe, wants skin cream on her legs or neck. There have been four trips to doctors' offices in the last 4 days, and papers to be gathered to bring to the doctors. Sleeping has been irregular most of the time - an hour or two at a time, and as likely to happen at 1 PM as at 1 AM. I'm on call whenever she wants, which is always and all hours. If I'm not in the room with her, she has an electric pushbutton for a bell - and she can use that even if there is company in the house. I run to the grocery in the half hour after she falls asleep, to be back before she wakes.

But even if I could do something during one of her naps (I mainly write these essays while she is on the phone or at her computer, a few feet away, and she can and does interrupt freely and/or ask me to read a passage), that isn't the goal. To paraphrase another member of this newsgroup: "The object isn't for her to have to give orders. If she is cold, she should turn around and find me holding her sweater. If she has to tell me to go get it, I've failed." Or to paraphrase from memory from one of the "Miss Abernathy" guides to slave training, "Wouldn't it be nice to have, not a slave who is an effort to order around, but one whose job is to study your needs and take care of them. Milk and eggs should simply appear in the refrigerator, you shouldn't have to think about making a list or about when the shopping gets done." I treasure the orders, the being wanted, my service being wanted, but I'm trying hard to develop that sort of mindfulness, that sort of knowing in advance what she wants - and when I succeed and she realizes I have succeeded, I find the feeling extremely satisfying and even erotic.

I'm feeling as valuable and as treasured and as appreciated as any slave boy or slave girl I've ever read about in books or stories or posts. I love having her brag about me to friends, even if the language has to be disguised. She says "we never believed in a fifty-fifty relationship. I give him one hundred percent of what he wants, he gives me one hundred percent of what I want." Her friends are envious, our children and grandchildren are a bit bewildered (but do agree that I'm wonderful), and I'm proud as punch.

And Mrs. Thorney is achy and uncomfortable too much of the time, but she feels loved, cared for, wanted, desired, even sexually desirable and desired - which isn't very easy to manage, when you are as banged up and hard to touch as she is.

(More to come)

--
Thorney

2007-07-30T23:40:00.000-04:00

2007-06-20
The mugging, and medical stuff

This is about the attack and the medical stuff. It includes discussion of bruising, shit, medical immobilization, etc., so some in the group might consider it on-topic. I don't, since I come here to talk about sex and D/S, rather than S/M. But this is essential background for the forthcoming definitely on-topic posts about sex, D/s, relationship, etc.

About 9 pm on June 3 we were walking, with a friend, back to our hotel in East Jerusalem. If you like reading maps, go to http://www.holylandhotel.com/
and click on Facts and Maps, then enlarge the map. We were walking south on Harun Ar Rashid street (hmm, are there other fans of Iznogood comics in this group?), about at the "R" in the street name on the map. A man walked up behind as if to pass us. At the last moment he grabbed Mrs. Thorney's handbag from behind her (strap over her right shoulder,) and pushed her forward very hard with his other hand. He got the bag (trivial) and ran back up the hill and turned right into the dark park.

She fell forward hard on her face and shoulder, downhill onto rough paving stones. Facial bruises and cuts, chipped teeth, cuts inside mouth, extensive bruises on the upper body. Eyeglasses badly scratched but, thank goodness, didn't break so eyes undamaged. She lost consciousness, regained it, rolled over on her back, lost consciousness again with her eyes open and defecated (very scary as I watched.) She regained consciousness, wiggled fingers and toes, moved hands and feet, asked what had happened.

We moved her into the hotel (it was a dark and now rather scary street). The police came and asked if she wanted to go to hospital, She said no. There was a language barrier. I cleaned her up. She was not forming short term memories. (She asked six or eight times in succession what happened, and did he get her handbag?)

The nurse (male) traveling with our tour group arrived and asked if she could move her arms and legs. Her right upper arm didn't respond when she tried to move it. We called an ambulance, it got there quickly, we went to Hadassah Hospital at Ein Kerem (the big world-class hospital in the western suburbs of Jerusalem, where the ambulance people said there were more specialties than at the Mt. Scopus branch of the hospital.)

By an hour after the attack she was forming memories again. The neurology people cleared her (after an MRI etc.) The orthopedic people said the right shoulder was badly broken, with two pieces broken off the humerus (long upper arm bone) at the top end where essential muscles attach. One piece moved a few inches from where it belonged, tearing blood vessels but luckily not nerves (her arm swelled up to at least twice normal diameter).

Doctor's discussion: she's an old lady, we could do minor repairs and she'd have limited use of the arm. Luckily I had pictures of her on a mountain top, and explained that she was 83 going on 30, climbs mountains and rows between islands in the Atlantic. How would they treat a 30-year old?

A neurology resident pulled me aside in the corridor, off the record. "American Jews aren't aggressive enough, they get taken advantage of. Israeli Jews are much better at insisting. Insist on getting what you want. Demand that she be treated by the head Professor of Orthopedics at the Hebrew University Medical School." I followed his instructions.

In the first 24 hours she got about 5 liters of saline dripped into her, plus antibiotics etc. Extensive black-and-blue appeared almost everywhere on her except her knees and lower legs, and her left forearm (it got back-and-blue independently, from all the needles (ports) placed in it to put in fluids.) I can't imagine where the blood came from internally that got into her bottom, but even that turned black and blue. She was carted from department to department for tests, examinations, etc. (e.g. checking for broken teeth, treating cuts in the mouth.)

The second 24 hours was pre-op preparation (chest x ray, blood tests, etc.) The surgery was done about 9:30 PM June 5. They made numerous small incisions in various places in her right upper arm and ran rods into her at various angles, then under fluoroscope (continuous x-ray) they pushed the pieces of bone back to where they belong. They put in long pins (4 inches long?) that hold the bone fragments in the right place and extend to just under the skin; they will be removed in a second surgery after six weeks, once the bones have set. Six of the incisions were large enough to need one stitch each to close, and there are numerous small cuts on the arm that may also have been rod insertion
points.

For the next six weeks, the arm is strapped firmly to her body so that it can't move. The appliance to do this is called a "universal shoulder
immobilizer" and is similar to the picture at
http://www.healthdesign.net/products/ipages/shoulder/422-0075.html
There is a very wide cylinder (size of an elastic tube top) around her chest (very uncomfortable on her breasts) with Velcro closure. a Velcro cuff about her upper arm that is fastened to the large cylinder to keep her upper arm vertical, another Velcro cuff about her wrist to keep the forearm in a fixed horizontal position.

This looks like an interesting bondage device, but I suspect after six weeks in it she will -not- want to ever try it on again. After two weeks, she is already regarding it as quite undesirably sadistic.

She had low and unstable blood pressure etc. for a day or two after surgery. By the evening of the 7th, however, she was wanting lots of things (a very good sign). She was sick and tired of the hospital food and the noise and crowding in the ward (five people in a room that would have been very crowded with four - one a screamer, one who shouted constantly into her cell phone.)

I found a wheelchair in the hall, put her in, rolled her out of the hospital and across the street to a hotel. We got her into bed and I phoned the nurses station to say she was safe and that I'd bring her back for doctors' rounds in the morning.

Next evening (the 8th) the doctors agreed she could sleep in the hotel if I brought her back in the wheelchair whenever they needed to see her. She continued weak - occasional diarrhea and projectile vomiting, probably reactions to food and/or antibiotics, so I had my hands full, but the nurses back at the nursing station provided advice and other things I needed.

On June 13 the doctor said she was well enough to travel once her stomach settled, provided that she went by wheelchair, first class or business class air, one leg a day with hotel rest intervening. We flew Tel Aviv to Vienna on the 15th (Vienna has an airport hotel and is geared to move people from the airplane straight to bed in the hotel by wheelchair). Vienna to Washington DC on the 16th (by now she was able to use a motel shuttle bus, with care, and eat dinner out with friends), and DC to Memphis on the 17th.

On June 18th we saw an internist in the morning and a dentist in the afternoon (he'll patch the chipped teeth next Monday, and we saw an orthopedic surgeon the 19th. New X-rays show that the pins and bone
fragments stayed where they were supposed to during the trip, and they took out the stitches and reduced the volume of bandages. Many of the bruises are starting to pass - face looks OK, bruises are reduced in area on the arms and legs, still there on the top of her rump. I don't know about on the chest and back, those are still too wrapped up to see.

She remains as cheerful, enthusiastic, and loving as ever, and has started editing pictures of our trip (using a left-handed mouse) and even writing a few notes (I juggled furniture to put a keyboard where her right fingers are, since she can't move that hand much but the fingers work.) Moving about and sleeping are still uncomfortable, due to the odd system of pins and rods inside her right arm.

We will cancel most travel plans for the summer (we will go to a
granddaughter's wedding in August) until we see how physical therapy is
progressing.)

Next posting: Wiitwd ("What it is that we do": Sex, love, D/s, and things like that.)

Thorney

2007-07-30T23:37:00.000-04:00

2007-06-19 The Trip

( A depressing post, with nothing relevant to this newsgroup. I need to ventilate, you don't need to read it.)

The trip, May 28-June 3.
The web site of the sponsoring organization is
http://www.interfaithpeacebuilders.org/
and the "official" diaries of the trip appear starting at
http://www.interfaithpeacebuilders.org/del22/default.html

I haven't read those, having been too busy with other things. But it saves me writing as much about the trip here as I might. I suspect that on the whole I'm more understanding of the Israeli government's position than many other members of the group we traveled with. But that doesn't mean I'm in agreement with the actions the Israeli government and military have taken.

We walked through a Palestinian refugee camp, near Bethlehem. We visited the hotly contested neighborhoods of Hebron. We followed the "security wall" through Jerusalem suburbs and Palestinian villages, talked to families divided by the wall. We visited with people who had lost family members (on both sides, families of suicide bomber victims as well as families who had lost a member to soldier's bullets.) We prayed at the Wailing Wall, at a synagogue in Jerusalem, at the old Quaker meeting house in downtown Ramallah (on the way we visited Yasser Arafat's tomb and the Palestinian Parliament building.) Several places we visited experienced violence (shooting and battles) within a few days before and a week or two after our visits.

We visited and talked with demonstrators and officers of various organizations. We visited residents of a slum in Tel Aviv and an expensive suburb in Herzliyah, and "settlements", Israeli communities built within "Judea and Samaria", the "occupied territories", "The West Bank", or "Israeli East Jerusalem", depending on the political point involved. We visited Yad VaShem, the Israeli Holocaust Museum - I was startled at the fact that some of the Americans in our group knew so little about the ghetto experiences of the European Jews leading up to and during World War II.

We had an Israeli doctor in obvious distress say, "Of course I want to be able to treat Palestinians in this hospital. But after an ambulance arrives and is full of explosives, do we dare let in the next ambulance?" We had a Palestinian doctor in an Israeli hospital (we spent a lot of time in the hospital, not part of the original plan!) express worry about his son who has said he wants to be a suicide bomber so he can go straight to heaven - those of you who have trouble with your teenage kids, think about that one a bit...!

The preparation for the trip was depressing: it didn't show much hope for progress toward peace. The trip itself was depressing: peace is not likely to break out in Israel / Palestine anytime soon. We did see "points of light", schools for children with post-traumatic stress syndrome (US foreign aid to them was cut off, of course, when it was discovered that some of the kids had lost parents to Israeli bullets. US government money must not be used to help family members of terrorists, even 4-year-old kids.) Church-sponsored secondary schools (no US aid, for the same reason.) School teachers still working, although not paid since the US government disliked the results of the first real democratic election Palestine had ever had. There are groups teaching nonviolent techniques, and groups of volunteers who try to interpose themselves between Palestinians and hostile Jewish settlers. But these are bandaids on broken arms, they don't get to the real problem.

Too many people on both sides are trying to figure out when and where and how to retaliate next, too few are seeking ways to break the cycle of violence. And the press publicizes and emphasizes the worst on both sides, making matters worse.

Is Jimmy Carter's word "apartheid" too strong? Well, it is certainly the wrong word. I had enough South African relatives during my formative years to know quite a bit about apartheid. Apartheid, in my view, is much too weak a word for what is happening in Israel / Palestine. Israel is confining the Palestinians into ever-shrinking ghettos. Jews ought to know better than that, and it is not an approach that will bring peace.

I really don't want to get into a political discussion in this newsgroup. But, given the events since June 3, I needed to ventilate. Thanks.

Next post: the mugging.

--
Thorney

2007-07-30T23:33:00.000-04:00

2007-06-19
The Trip.
The Context of the trip.

(Trying to explain why we were there. A form of core dump as I work my way back to wiitwd. But no wiitwd in this post.)

For many years Mrs. Thorney and I have attended synagogue on Saturday and church on Sunday. (Mrs. Thorney is liberal Protestant, although she might be an Arian if that was possible in this century). I'm Jewish, traditional in belief and Orthodox when we met, but we attend a Reform Jewish Temple as she isn't much into Hebrew. Our kids were by earlier marriages so religion of kids wasn't a problem. )

I call myself a Zionist - I want a place for the Jews, where they can live in peace and safety and "where they can go, when they have to go someplace". I think Israel is the place where the world might let us do do that. That doesn't mean I have to agree with policies of the Israeli government any more that the fact that I'm a patriotic American means I have to agree with policies of the US government.

We've been distressed for some time with the alliance (as we see it) between Osama bin Laden and George Bush, promoting wars between Islam and the West. And we were upset at what we saw as a Jewish overreaction to Carter's recent book on Palestine. As comparative religion fanatics, we've found Islamic ideas helpful sometimes in our thinking. And we don't feel that the US can afford to treat out resident Muslims - most of whom are as inoffensive as our local Methodists - as some kind of exotic or hostile strangers. So a few months ago we started attending our neighborhood mosque on Fridays in addition to our synagogue and church, getting active in their social events, inviting people from one house of worship to visit another with us (yes, a few Muslims -have- come to synagogue with us.) And we've run parties where friends from one of these places can meet our friends from another.

And then Mrs. Thorney discovered that the American Friends Service Committee - a Quaker-founded group we have long been friends of - was acting jointly with a group called "Interfaith Peace Builders" (an offshoot of the pacifist group, the Fellowship of Reconciliation) to sponsor a group to visit pro-peace groups, mainly in Palestine (West Bank) but also in Israel, to explore chances for peace in the area. And Mrs. Thorney, commenting that at the age of 83, one can afford to take some risks, suggested we go. I agreed.

We traveled with the group May 25 - June 3. I'll tell a bit about that in another post later. On June 3 she was viciously mugged, not in the obviously dangerous areas we had been deliberately traveling in, but a few yards from our hotel in Jerusalem. That will be another post. And then comes the treatment and recovery, which is giving us opportunities to find new ways to relate to each other, and new ways to express our closeness in the absence of the most usual sexual outlets. And it is giving me, shall we say, great opportunities to try out a wide variety of submissive roles and fantasies, see how I like them, and to think about my own fantasies and motivations. So I do intend, within a few days and subject to the constraints of the children and grandchildren who will be coming to visit, to get back to interesting thoughts about wiitwd.

--
Thorney

2007-07-30T23:23:00.001-04:00

2007-6-18
Bad Trouble

As regulars here know, Mrs. Thorney has creative travel ideas. When she was 65, we were white-water rafting the upper Ganges where it emerges from the Himalayas above Rishikesh. At 79, we got far enough into the Himalayas in Bhutan for the natives to, shall we say, invite her to perform in a fertility festival. At 80 or 81, a trip included a stop at the northern border of Thailand to visit people smuggling medical and educational supplies to the rebellious Burmese hill tribes.

She is now 83. Unfortunately, the last few weeks proved not to be the most propitious time for a tour of social and political problems in Palestine (West Bank).

The most serious injury when she was mugged in East Jerusalem on June 3 was a badly broken right shoulder, two pieces broken off the top of her right humerus (the big bone in the upper arm) including the places where the muscles attach. Reconstructive surgery was done at Haddassah Hospital, Ein Kerem (Jerusalem) on June 5, and she finally recovered enough for us to return home (Memphis, Tennessee) arriving Sunday, June 17. (Our visits to Germany and Denmark were of course canceled).

There are pins in to hold the bones together that will come out in several weeks, and then four to six months of physical therapy will determine how much arm motion and strength she gets back. At the moment the arm is strapped to her body (immobilized. Hmm, bondage thoughts...)

As you can imagine, life here is a bit complex just now. Over the coming days as time permits I'll try to tell more, and I will be exceeding the usual bounds of this newsgroup. I'll add to this thread but try to label the posts with subtopics like [Travel] [Politics] [Medical] and of course [Sex] and/or [D/s].

Mrs. Thorney, I'm happy to report, is her usual irrepressible self mentally, and as loving and sexy as ever although it has to be expressed in different ways than our usual.

I am not going to get involved in side discussions here other than about the sex etc, although I assume the discussion of Palestinian politics may get rough - I can't tell the story without references to it.

I do invite nice postings with nice thoughts or memories about Mrs. Thorney, that she can read while convalescing (especially until she gets the hang of typing one-handed).

--
Thorney
------------
A few of my past posts used to be at
http://www.geocities.com/Thorney1z/stories.html (but it died.)
I'm reconstructing them, in part at http://fetlife.com

2007-07-30T23:19:00.000-04:00

2007-07-30
Starting again

OK, I've been posting for years in newsgroups and sometimes in web forums. A few series of posts need to be archived, so I'm reviving this blog.

The first set is going to be some newsgroup posts stemming from a trip to Israel / Palestine. Mrs. Thorney was mugged and badly injured, and I needed to do some writing about how we kept up spirits - and our sex life.

2002-12-29T21:21:00.000-05:00

2001-06-05 Newsgroup post: Mrs. Thorney says hello

[Note from Thorney: In reply to a recent message of mine in the 'Beginner Questions' thread, in part bragging about how wonderful my wife is, several people wrote things like

> Okay, I am *incredibly* jealous now, you old fart. [And]
>Mrs Thorney is rapidly turning into someone I want to be like when I grow up.

Mrs. Thorney is reveling in the praise, calling me an old fart, and actually enjoying for a change my rather explicit descriptions here of her behavior. So she decided it was time to write something herself.]

From Mrs. Thorney:

I have no interest in S&M, but Thorney tells me that your group is able to discuss sex openly and explicitly. He also says that some of you wish you were more like us. Maybe I can help you by telling you how I came to be the way I am.

When I was first married in 1947, the marriage manuals said that success in mutual orgasms came if the man did not get too excited before the female did. As a result I tried not to do things to excite my husband and monitored my responses. No luck. I was too self conscious. So for 3 years of that marriage and 1 or 2 of the next marriage 3 years after my first husband died, I was unable to come to orgasm.

Then I had a conversation with me. (I find such conversations are very helpful.) The other me said, "So you don't come. So what? Just try to enjoy what you find enjoyable and try to give your husband enjoyment." It worked. In about 2 weeks I was coming on a regular basis. My advice to me had taken my mind off myself and shifted it onto imagining how much my husband would enjoy this or that. This enabled me to do what comes naturally and come. In fact it wasn't long before I was multiply orgasmic. For a while I used to count the orgasms, but I gave that up and just enjoyed. This change did not come about because my second husband changed what he did because he didn't. The change was all in my head. After all the brain is the sexiest organ in our bodies. This is a graphic example of the benefits of unselfish behavior.

Then I found that having an especially good time together during the day, whether it was a conversation or a social event, led to better sex that night. Good times during the day come from common goals and common interests. Thorney and I have those in spades. So my desire to make him happy is partly gratitude to him for his wonderful disposition, his reliability, his many interests, his toleration of my delays now and then, his ability to be logical, and his great love for me. He is also incredibly sexy, not in appearance, but in actions.

I don't see any reason at all for spending time with someone who likes to hurt me. Fortunately I never met such a person, but I would never have tolerated it. Sex is not that hard to get. When I was divorced from my second husband and wanted sex, all I had to do was to use my eyes. Make up, sexy clothes, a lilting walk all advertise to all the world. But looking at a man and simply not lowering my eyes told him I was interested in him. Most responded promptly. Conversation is also a way of appealing to a specific man. I've told this to several women who were sex starved. They all reported that it works.

Mrs. Thorney

2002-12-29T21:15:00.000-05:00

2002-09-02 Newsgroup post: Mrs. Thorney's viewpoint.

Subject: Mrs. Thorney's point of view

Well, we're actually enjoying a few days of relative privacy - the first time in over a month that we are home with no grandchildren in residence, no house guests, etc., for more than a day or two in a row. And we are celebrating in full force, with lots of play time and in general my enjoying "my property" in great detail. Mrs. Thorney (approaching 80) has posed for a nice series of (fake) bondage photographs as well as anything else I've asked, and life is delightful.

She's even staging one of her little "rebellions" which is taking an amusing form. She is doing absolutely everything I ask with one exception--when I tell her she is being "absolutely obedient" she denies it hotly instead of replying "Yes, Master" as she is supposed to. She insists that she is doing exactly what she wants, and getting exactly the attention she wants, and that
since she isn't doing anything she doesn't want to do she thinks it is unreasonable to call it "obedience". And if I swat her shapely bottom for this denial she points out that she likes that and is getting just what she wants, nya nya nya. But swatting her bottom is too much fun for me to stop, so I guess I'll have to go on enjoying the rebellion a bit longer.

I've said that I like to be dominant ("Love D/s Lite 24/7") and she denies any interest at all in being submissive, she just takes pride in being the world's greatest expert in keeping me happy. You may also recall that she denies being 'kinky' in any way: by her definition, if we both enjoy it and no-one gets hurt, it isn't kinky.

But recently one of the younger women in our extended family was asking relationship advice, and Mrs. Thorney wrote a long e-mail. The following excerpt (only proper names changed) may be of interest in giving Mrs. Thorney's point of view on our relationship.

---begin quote---

For me the most sexually exciting and appealing things are what a man does. Thorney told me early on, and repeated it often since, that he doesn't want to have to guess what I want. He wants me to tell him. I guess it is a little like two kids on the playground. One kid is playing ball. The other wants to join in, but comes to me and says Fred won't play ball with me. I ask him if he asked Fred if he could play ball. The answer is, "No, but he wouldn't." A lot of adults are like that.

In fact when I had an ulcer, I observed that it was worse when I was angry. How could I avoid being angry? Try to get what I want before getting angry. How should I get what I want? Ask for it. Sounds terribly simplistic doesn't it? But about 85% or more of the time it works.

A good sexual relationship gets better and better. Sure there are a few valleys among the mountaintops, but the mountaintops get higher and more frequent. It's amazing! Thorney and I have been sexually active since 1977. That's 25 years, and it's still getting better and better. An experience not to be missed.

You shouldn't worry about losing a man to another woman. That's never a problem unless the man has never grown up and in many cases even if he is still somewhat immature. Most of us haven't grown up completely in some respect, but that's ok as long as we are realistic. All you have to do is to observe what a man likes, what his priorities are. Then give him what he
wants.

Mrs. Thorney

2002-12-29T12:28:00.000-05:00

Christmas 2001: The morning the bed fell.

This is not a filk of Thurber, exactly, and definitely not a reopening of the discussion of the rotundity of some members of the cabal, er, I mean, group. Too many of the general US public are that way. As we discussed at some earlier Christmas season, I'm normally mistaken for Santa Claus only by very young children, and then only when wearing my heavy red winter coat. And my muscle tone is actually reasonably appropriate to my body weight -- I can now actually do pushups again, after about 40 years when I could not.

This last ability is entirely due to practice under the careful coaching of Mrs. Thorney. How many women in their 70's would suggest to their husband that "it might be fun if I lie on my back and you see if you can do pushups with Peter in my mouth"?

Anyway, it was the morning after Christmas, and the grandchildren had not yet arrived for the day. We were not, by Mrs. Thorney's standards, snug in our bed: I had flung all the covers off the bed in various directions. She complained:

"Hey, It's still cold. Aren't I at least entitled to be all wrapped up in red ribbon with a big bow, like you did last Christmas?"

"No." I said, "After all, you are my Christmas present. It is the morning after Christmas, and on the morning after Christmas anyone is allowed to have all their Christmas presents completely unwrapped. Right?"

"Yes, Master."

I shifted positions preparatory to the next activity. At this moment, the bed fell. Apparently I'd put my weight on the wrong spot, a side board gave way, and the bed slats, springs, mattress, and occupants all fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

No damage was done to the occupants, but further proceedings were very definitely interrupted. Plans for repairs are already on the drawing board. If anyone knows of a good post-Christmas sale price on four second-hand flying reindeer, I have a wonderful scheme for putting collars and harnesses on them and attaching them firmly to rings at the four corners of the mattress. Mrs. Thorney is opposed to the use of whips, however, so other suggestions for holding them at the proper altitude are invited.

(C) Thorney 2001. You may save one copy for yourself but other reproduction requires permission. (True of the whole blog, but repeated on some of the stories I like most).

2002-12-29T12:16:00.000-05:00

2000-12-08 Newsgroup: I love it when she says...

The old saw says that at the holiday season, instead of the almost universal experience of being tense about the relatives who don't show up or don't get along, we are supposed to be being giving and thankful.

So, I hoped the group might enjoy my recalling a few of the phrases my wife uses that I particularly enjoy. I hope others will enjoy them or find them useful or helpful. Obviously, I've picked particular categories of such phrases here, and there are other things I enjoy too. I put these out very much hoping that others will reply with their own lists of things they say to their partner(s) or their partner(s) to them, with the specific thought that I may receive suggestions of phrases my wife would enjoy hearing me say that I haven't thought of (men, even Doms, being very well known to be inept at such things).

I'll confine myself now to things she's actually said, rather than things I wish she'd say, but if others offer in that category I'll try to also. (And I enjoy hearing new things I can teach her to say, too).

These are phrases jumbled together, not in order or from the same chain of conversation.
--------
Could I please have a spanking, Master? I've been so naughty, Master. Do I get a spanking? Spank me faster, please. How loud can you make it without actually hurting? I'm so glad you taught me to like spankings, they are really more like caresses. Could I have some more, please, Master? I'm glad you think my ass is so sexy. It's yours, Master, you can do whatever you want with it.

Don't worry about peter not being stiff Master, getting him stiff is my job. I know just how to lick and kiss and squeeze. I love looking at peter when he's little and soft like that. I almost never get to see him that way. See I just kiss him and he's getting bigger already. I love watching your peter get big and hard, Lover. Your peter is just exactly the right size for me. I love when it goes all the way in and pushes all the right buttons.

Would you pick out a pair of panties for me, Master? My panties are all wet, Master, could I please change them? [On telephone] I need to {put on, change} panties, Master, and I know I'm not supposed to do that without supervision. Can you come home to supervise, or will you give me a spanking later? You made me come and come and come this morning and I'm so wet.

Do you have time for me to kiss peter before you go? I bet with me [laying or sitting] here I'm at just the right height to kiss peter. Would you bring him over here for me to kiss? I love how stiff peter gets when I kneel down naked to kiss him. [in bed] Would you turn around and put peter between my breasts while I lick your balls? Boy, peter really gets stiff when I lick right here just behind your balls.

When you touch me right there [base of spine] I just melt. Would you come lie on top of me, Master? I need peter inside so badly. Please put him in. Please fuck me, Master. Please fuck me hard, Master. Put him waaaay in. Can you push harder? I love it when you fuck me really hard,
Master.

It just gets better and better. I love being yours, Master. I love being your property. I'm yours, you can do anything with me. I'm so glad I guv myself to you. Giving me to you was the best thing I ever did.

I love the way you play with my nipples. I think there's a direct nerve to my vagina, it gets all hot and wet when you do that. When you get both nipples in your mouth at once, I want more and more but I need peter inside so badly I can't wait.

Would you like to come between my breasts? Would you like me on my hands and knees for awhile? Am I waving my bottom right? Can you see how I'm squeezing my muscles? I love squeezing like that when you are inside me. Please fuck my ass, Master. [Note: I like hearing this, but she doesn't like my cock in her ass, so we've agreed that I always tell her she's been too naughty and can't have it that way].

I'm melted, Lover. I'm glad you like melted girl. I'm all yours, Master. I'm completely out of control. When you do that to me, I'm the Wild Woman from Borneo. I'm completely yours, I'm in your control.

Is this a good pose, Lover? How long shall I stay this way, Master? [kowtow or Gorean position, while exercising] I love you touching me there when I'm like this. Touch me some more, please, there, Master. Right here. Oh yes.

Wow, did you turn me on this morning. I was so hot and wet we left a puddle on the bed. I've been in a rosy glow all day. I don't know where you got that control switch, but were you ever in control.

Acknowledgements: This post was inspired by a recent discussion at my support group for the visually impaired, and by a recent post in the 'Negotiating humiliation' thread in which someone said <>

2002-12-29T12:11:00.000-05:00

2002-12-20 Newsgroup post: How do we get to do the things we do?

A new poster in the newsgroup asked how people had developed their skills or practices. This is edited from my reply:

Mrs. Thorney and I have a very different relationship from many in this group. As I've said, she doesn't think of herself as kinked or 'sub', just as keeping me happy. We've tinkered a lot, and some things that others might regard as pretty extreme are very common for us, other things we do are so mild as to make it unclear that it is D/S. We've developed things over time.

A lot of our stuff is regular. predictable ritual that doesn't require words on a daily basis. E.g. there is a night light in the bedroom, floor level (I have poor eyesight, and like looking at her.) She is expected to kneel down naked to turn it on at night (and off in the morning, unless I'm too sated to notice, which is frequent.) I may or may not go over to pat her bottom, etc., but she knows I'm watching. I prefer having her naked as she makes the bed, too, but don't always insist on it. Of course, my touching her frequently and intimately is basic.

How did we get started at some of these things? Hard to recall. Sometimes, in a sense, I led by example. I think a couple of times when her feet were tired, I rubbed them. Then once when she offered to rub mine, I said, "how about kissing them instead?' From there we went to her kneeling for it, then to kneeling naked -- usually with encouragement rather than command. ("Boy, I bet it would be sexy if you'd kneel down naked to do that." "Wow, are you absolutely delicious in that pose. I'm going to ask for that more often.") [She says: no, she thought of it, after seeing the bride kiss the groom's feet in a Hindu wedding. Her memory is surely right.]

Her: "What would you like for supper?" Me: "A bottomless waitress."

A couple of years ago, someone in the group fantasized about bathroom rituals (needing permission to pee). We talked about that off and on. She said, at her age, bathroom breaks are free. But then she allowed as how it had always seemed unfair that discussions were cut off for bathroom breaks, that with the kids gone it seemed silly to have to close the bathroom door,... Somehow we got from there to the idea that I'd follow her to the john and she' lick my cock while she peed. We did that 'as a rule' for a full week to develop the habit, but now treat it as optional (but frequent) when the mood strikes, anywhere from three times a day to occasionally skipping a whole day.

A lot of what we do obviously has different mental sets for the two of us, and that is fine for us. When we shower together, I'm having my slave girl submissively wash my genitals; she on the other hand is being possessive and playing with her toys. No harm done, we both enjoy.

More examples relavant to other points in the newsgroup dialogue. We do more but than I describe here but I want to show the principles. One possibility is to include some things you want to do anyway (vanilla things), but invest them with D/S language and ritual.

Our general principle has been to experiment freely, keep what we find works for us, toss what doesn't, talk about it a lot. As I've said before, we are very equal in most ways, the idea is to satisfy both of us. She gets attention and affection, I get lots of sex and sex play, I get my kinks to play with in ways that don't cross her boundaries, which have (slowly) proved to be much more flexible than either of us expected.

Our system depends a lot on Mrs. Thorney being explicitly told to "top from the bottom." She can always get attention by saying "Please spank my bottom, Master.", but more generally, she is expected to tell me what is working, what isn't, to make suggestions of things that would turn her on. She does do this to get her own way, sometimes. Once she invoked John Norman's theory that "the slave girl can say anything, if she is naked and on her knees" to get me to list to the entire list of possible wedding presents she was considering for a niece...

She wasn't into bondage at all - and was horrified that this group had it in the name, but she knew I liked bondage photos. After years of ducking this issue, we made progress when a sore back meant she needed to exercise. "You know, I'd be more interested in exercising with you if we did it with fewer clothes on." "Wow, I bet that pose would be sexy without the clothes." "Can you stretch your arms into this position?" (holding them) "You would be absolutely irresistible in that position if I draped this red exercise tape over you like so." We still don't do 'bondage', but we do wonderful bondage photographs.

A correspondent pointed out that tone of voice is a wonderful trigger, even with a simple word like "mine". I'll grab or touch part of her: "Mine". We both use it. Ordering about? Well, certainly "Cum'mere, You". After a hug and kiss, I can judge pretty reliably if "I expect you to report to the bed with no clothes on in three minutes" would be well received.

Talking explicitly? Her talk was quite vanilla for years. At the suggestion of someone in this group, I tried stopping just before she climaxed a few times and saying "Say, 'Please fuck me hard, Master'". She was hot enough to comply (with reluctance at first) and we went on from there to develop vocabulary and verbal games.

Modes of address? She is much more often "darling" or "lover" than "toy", but the latter is common "in scene". She describes her behavior in bed as "The wild woman from Borneo". When she decides to use "Please Master" and "Yes Master" is up to her, but if I haven't had any in a couple of hours I do remind her that I'd like more.

In the morning I may pick out panties for her, or may let her go without until she asks -- "May I please have some panties, Master?" if she is in that sort of mood, but I may let her get away with "would you please pick out some panties for me?" Of course I may well reply with (or just initiate at some other time) "Would this be a convenient time for for to kiss my feet?" It virtually always is.

Mrs. Thorney wants absolutely -no- abuse or humiliation. Of course, she says, at her age, being told that she is a "hot wet fuck" is praise.

2002-12-28T20:56:00.000-05:00

Two Views, A Story.

This is an odd literary exercise. Nothing happens in the time frame (teasing the night before to shower afterward) that you can't find in the advice columns in -Cosmopolitan- or -Glamour- or similar magazines. But what goes on in the two characters' heads is entirely different.

Two Views (M/S, M/f, F/m), by Thorney

Copyright 2002 by Thorney. All rights reserved. This is a work of the imagination. You may make a single copy for your own enjoyment. Requests to repost or to post on a website should be made to me at thorney1y @ yahoo.com or thorney1y @ gmail.com.

Preface.

There have been some very nice stories posted recently. And there have been some good discussions lately of 'who trains whom' and 'who pleases whom' in a D/s relationship. I thought it would be an interesting challenge to apply two different mindsets in the same story.

This should probably be printed in parallel columns. Consider flipping a coin to decide which half to read first.

HERS

She awoke slowly. Her naked slave was beside her, touching her. The effort in training him, in teaching him to please her so thoroughly, had been well worth it. She felt him cuddled behind her, keeping her back warm the way she liked. She could tell that the slave's cock was stiff. She enjoyed the total control she had over that cock, teasing him, requiring an erection whenever she wanted to toy with him.

She would make him control it for hours, sometimes, teasing him, never allowing release until she was ready to enjoy it. She squirmed, rubbing against that stiffness, to awaken him, and he slowly came alive, worshiping her bottom with his hands, caressing her just as she liked, teasing her nipples awake.

It had taken a lot of training, but now he knew exactly what pleased her, knew her signals. It was like riding a well-trained horse: the smallest motion on her part produced exactly the response she wanted, so quickly and smoothly that the command might be completely invisible to an observer. Having him trained and under her complete control was even more enjoyable than controlling a powerful horse, because she could lead him around any way she wanted, toy with his body, demand any service she could imagine.

She hardly needed to even threaten punishment any more; her complete control of his orgasms, the fact that he knew he must obey completely or suffer any torment she could dream up, guaranteed her control. How she enjoyed teasing him, keeping his cock erect for hours, keeping him attentive to her every whim.

She rolled over, looking at the face of her slave, then at the body of her sex toy. "You are mine", he said, with a sense of wonder. Yes, she was his Mistress, and she knew he loved having her for a Mistress as much as she loved having him for a slave. But she needed to rub it in. "Yes, and I want a really long fuck this morning," she said, pressing her mouth to his. It was important to remind him that she set the pace, he performed at her whim, that she had the right to make him last as long as she wanted and that he was permitted his own pleasure only when - and only if - she ordered it.

His arms went around her, squeezing her just the way she liked, just the places she liked. Men were dumb that way, she thought to herself. So many of them never completely surrendered, never realized that they had to learn to do it exactly the way that gave their Mistress the most pleasure. This slave, once he had completely surrendered, had learned his lessons well. That was one reason she allowed him to spend the night in his owner's bed. She had teased him about it the night before, though, toying with his cock and balls, giving him a hard erection and then going to sleep, leaving him hungry and uncomfortable and very unsatisfied beside her.

Now she thumped him slightly with her midsection. He knew that command. His finger obediently slid to her pussy, teasing gently, just the way she liked. She knew his cock was bursting, but she wouldn't let him put it in her, not yet, not until he worshiped her in every way she desired. How nice to have a trained slave, one she could do anything she wanted with, satisfy her every desire, at her own pace. A slight nudge and his mouth left hers, to worship at her breasts. He licked just the way she liked, a bit of suction. She could signal exactly how she liked it with a bit of pressure on his finger or a nudge.

Just the way she liked it, like masturbating only better, the slave boy's body as her sex toy, his obeying her every whim, knowing he had to obey absolutely if he was to have any hope of her allowing him release. A gentle tap and he was licking both breasts at once, holding both nipples in his mouth and using his tongue on both. She'd thought of having two slaves to work on her nipples, but she'd enjoyed training him, making him learn the contortions to hold his mouth just the way she wanted.

She shoved his head with one hand. He understood the command and slid his head down to worship between her legs. His tongue was on her clit, he was drinking her pussy juices. She shoved him into her pussy hard, tickling herself with his nose, getting his tongue just where she liked it. Could he breathe down there? As long as he was obedient, she didn't care. He was going to lick her exactly as she wanted, for as long as she liked. She could clamp his head hard, keep the slave exactly in his place.

Somehow during one of her orgasms she'd tugged his body to where she could reach his cock, that cock that she owned absolutely, her plaything. She could use it again to tease him, gloating in her control as she put pressure with her tongue on the sensitive spots. She felt him strain as she got to that tender spot behind the scrotum, squeezing the balls, now pressing the whole length of his cock, knowing that he dare not come without permission and she wasn't going to give it, not now, not until she had enjoyed his face pushed even harder into his Mistress' cunt, giving her more orgasms, she had her slave just where she wanted him and she was going to use his face and tease his prick as long as she wanted to. She was bucking again, filling the slave boy's mouth with her juices.

At last she shoved him away from her mouth "Turn around," she said, "I want you on top of me". He obeyed, silently and quickly. She could feel the heat in his stiff prick, she knew how much he needed release. He wouldn't get it yet, not until she decided.

He wasn't allowed to put his cock in until she said so, each step was under her control. She loved torturing him, not letting him know how long each stage would go on, making him pleasure her exactly as she liked until she made the decision whether to move on, whether to let him come or make him suffer.

He lay on top of her as she had trained him, his cock outside her, his balls pressed against her pussy opening. He stroked up and down, pleasuring her clit with his balls. Her hands on his ass controlled the pace and angle. He showered her face with kisses as she controlled him, shoving him a little this way or that to get just the sensation he wanted.

"Put it in", she said. He slid his cock into her slowly, full length, just the way she wanted it. She just held onto it as he lay quietly, then the slave boy started stroking slowly, the way she had trained him, restraining himself as he had been trained. She squirmed, using his cock for herself, squeezing it.

One of her hands went to his balls, teasing them, glorying in the control she had, how easy it was to give him pleasure or pain at her whim, how vulnerable the poor boy was, how freely she could use him for her pleasure. She squeezed his buttock with one hand, held his balls with the other, kept him still as she thrust her pelvis up and down, enjoying using his cock as her private toy.

She'd enjoyed putting him through a program of exercises, during his training, supervising him as he twisted and turned under her complete control. She knew what muscles her slave had, and now she was going to enjoy them.

"Harder", she said quietly. "Faster. Now. Do me hard." He was her toy; she could have exactly what she wanted and exactly when she wanted it. And she got it, as he thrust strongly into her, at just the angle she liked. He didn't have a particularly large cock, she sometimes teased him, but she got every bit he was capable of, her slave was straining to get it in as far as he could, trying to hit her buttons just the way she wanted them hit.

She enjoyed his hands on her bottom, the squeeze as he pushed into her, but she liked her nipples done too. And the rules were that she got exactly what she wanted, every time. Or else.

She tapped his shoulder gently and he got the message. His hands released her bottom and went to her breasts, worshiping them. She enjoyed an even stronger orgasm as he got just the right spot near her nipples, the nerve endings that seemed to run right down to her pussy, mingling to give her pure pleasure.

It seemed so unfair, forcing the slave to twist into such contortions just to add to her pleasure, but that was the point of owning a slave. She didn't have to be fair, she got exactly what she wanted. She gloried in her absolute control as she moved one of his hands slightly and then pulled him hard into her again, watching him suffer as he still had to hold back his own release, hoping she would allow it this time, begging with his eyes.

But she still had one more way to celebrate her control of him before she let him cum. He had to acknowledge her ownership of his ass.

It had been hard the first time she made him submit to having his ass fucked. Whatever his ideas of submission, that had been hard for him. She'd had to work him over, humiliate him thoroughly before that first time he had raised his ass and told her it belonged to her. Now, of course, her complete sex slave, he let her do whatever she wanted.

She kept a dildo handy, but she was enjoying herself too much to reach out for it. She'd do it with her finger. She watched the strain on his face as he watched her lick her finger, his fear and sense of being property, as he realized what she was about to do to him, his joy as he realized she was going to let him cum inside her this time. His thrusts increased in response as her hand went around him. As she thrust the finger into his anus he lost all control, throwing her also into a final paroxysm of ecstacy as the long-delayed load pumped out of him and bathed her insides in hot wetness.

She held him for a bit, but he had work to do. She was going to require him to bathe her, enjoying her slave boy's careful attentions to her body as he gently washed her, and as she toyed with his now thoroughly deflated penis and balls. She loved it when they looked like that, almost like a little boy's except for the hair. Maybe some day she'd shave that off him and see how he looked without it. How he'd blush and cower if she suggested it!

What would she do later today, she wondered? She knew that he was less quick to obey when he was this satisfied. Maybe she'd make him vacuum the place while wearing a bright red pair of frilly see-through panties. She couldn't imagine why men liked that sort of thing, but he was one of the ones that did and she knew it would get him hot and bothered and very obedient again, quickly, with minimal effort on her part. Once you learned a few things about them, men were so easy to lead around, almost literally, by the balls...

HIS

He awoke and reached out, encountering her bare flesh. "Mine", he thought happily. "To do what I want with." As his hand cupped her naked ass, he was glad he'd kept the slave girl in his bed last night, to sleep naked beside him. During the night he'd enjoyed touching her as he pleased, squeezing and slapping her bottom, pinching her nipples, using a finger to test the hot dampness of her cunt. He'd woken up cupped behind her, his stiff cock stroking between her bottom cheeks. A gentle pull on her shoulder and she rolled over, her mouth open for him, eyes downcast as they should be, focused briefly on the powerful cock that she was going to be required to please. Then her legs were spreading and her midsection arching toward him as she sought to push and rub her pussy against him.

Her training was coming along so well, he thought to himself. She was well along at learning to hold herself constantly available, her lips always partly open to admit his tongue or cock, her pussy thrusting out or her bottom rolling slightly to show that she was constantly thinking of his cock and ways to please him. It had seemed only fair to reward her with a night in his bed, naked, before he fucked her thoroughly and completely this morning.

He had teased her last night, having her parade naked around the room and letting her worship his cock and balls with her mouth only briefly before he went to sleep. He'd let her spend the night thinking of how he would use her body, in the morning, for his pleasure.

Now it was morning, and his leg went between hers, his hands squeezing her bottom and pushing her hot damp pussy even tighter against him, as he thought about how he would make his slave serve him with her body.

"You are mine," he said, possessively. "Yes", she said, "and I want a really long fuck this morning." He crushed her mouth with his before she could add the "Please, Master" that she had rehearsed for so many days. He had loved forcing the rehearsals on her. "Please fuck me, Master." "Please fuck my cunt." "My cunt belongs to you, Master. Please fuck me hard." She had been embarrassed. She had blushed beautifully at saying those words, at being required to lift her pelvis from the bed and wave her cunt at him as she pleaded to be used as the slave that she was. Now it was second nature, and he was after all the Master, he was free to interrupt her speech and plunder her mouth roughly with his, his hands going around to squeeze her ass.

He was going to tease her this morning. His hand crept to her pubic mound and a finger slid inside. It was hot and wet and juicy, the way he liked it. He felt the slave squirm, pushing herself on the finger harder, twisting around it. That was the way he had trained her, to be hot and hungry and make her need clear. Her need to be fucked, her desire for a hot hard cock to fill her.

His mouth slid down to her left nipple, sucking hard, teasing the tit with his tongue. "Yessss...", she murmured. He moved a hand to her mouth and she licked and sucked in a finger. He enjoyed hearing her plead but it was important to maintain control. Anything put near her mouth was to be kissed and licked, be it his cock or mouth or butt or a hand that was about to spank her. And it was nice to be in such complete control of her actions, her need, her urgency. He could feel it on the finger she was sucking, the tighter sucking when he pushed a bit harder on her twat or squeezed her tender nipple harder. He could let her speak, let her plead for cock, later, right now he liked using her mouth the way he was, and she was, after all, only a slave. He could do exactly as he liked.

Removing his hand from her cunt he tugged her tits together and got both in his mouth at once. He loved stretching them, sucking both nipples, running his tongue around them. It made her squirm more hotly, sucking harder on the finger between her lips, waving her pussy higher as she begged for attention. Her hand came and stroked his head. He adored all the ways she begged him to fuck her mercilessly, with her words and with her body.

She had thought she was uninhibited when she came to him, but she had been reluctant to use the words 'fuck' or 'cunt' or even 'cock'. Now she was required to play close attention to the state of his cock, reach to fondle it whenever he was in reach. To say how much she wanted her cunt fucked by his cock. If she was seated and he was standing, her mouth was to be open to lick his cock. In all ways, all the time, she was to express the submission of the slave girl to her Master's cock.

He'd left her cunt unattended too long. She was humping up and down with her pussy, uninhibitedly pleading. He released her tits from his mouth and slid down her belly. He loved the taste of her when she was hot and juicy, loved feeling her press up as he teased her pussy with his hot breath. He could feel the muscles spasm in her legs as she came, repeatedly.

He shifted his body and her mouth was near his cock. She kissed and licked it, then started caressing the underside of his cock with her nose as she licked his balls. He had loved training her to do that. He'd shove his cock in the slave's mouth many times a day, but he especially liked having her lick his balls just before he fucked her. That's the way a slut should ask for it, he felt, pleading with her tongue for a really hot fuck.

Her tongue went behind his balls, the sensitive spot just below his anus. He loved using her tongue any way he wanted it and any place he wanted it. That was what a slave was for, to be used for her Master's pleasure. He liked having her plead for cock, with her voice when he wasn't using her mouth, with her mouth and tongue on him when he wanted it that way.

Her hands caressed his head, he felt her body convulse as she came repeatedly. When she came she was required to confess her slavery, say "Thank you, Master, Thank you, Master", but now his cock was back in her mouth, fucking her face, and her little speech would have to be postponed. She didn't have to tell him she was cumming, he could feel her buck and he thrust his cock deeper into her mouth. Then, slowly, he pulled it out. "Turn around," she said pleadingly, "I want you on top of me".

She'd forgotten the "Please, Master", again. She was going to get it, later. He knew she loved the spankings now, loved the fact that she wasn't allowed slacks or shorts, that anytime he could keep her naked or, if she had clothing on, he could simply flip up her skirt and swat her bottom, but even if it was a treat for her, leaving out the "Please Master" was grounds for an extra spanking. Maybe that's why she did it, and he'd have to find a better punishment, like keeping her naked all day.

But right now he was going to fuck her. Hard. He spun around and lay on top of her. His cock pressed against her pubic mound, but from the outside. If she could leave out a "Please Master", he could play hard to get, too. He'd make her ask explicitly. He was humping her pubic mound now, the side of his cock sliding in the slippery wetness, his balls pounding directly on her clit. He liked the way that stimulated his balls, he could go on a long time that way.

She was squirming again, pressing up at him, her arms around him, kissing all over his face. He could feel the convulsions in her legs, her trying to squirm to pull his cock inside. She couldn't have it until she asked. He always insisted that the slave girl confess her need very explicitly.

He pushed harder on her cunt. "Put it in", she begged him. He slid his cock into her slowly, full length, slowly, teasingly. He was going to get a more explicit request than that from his fuck slave. Once it was fully into her, he held it still, watching as she squirmed around on it, trying to push harder against him. He rewarded her squirms a little, with a teasingly slow stroking motion. She was pleading for more, with her eyes, with one of her hands on his balls, gently massaging.

That was how a slave slut should act, he thought, doing all she could to make her Master's cock larger, all she could to beg him for the sort of hard fuck that would prove she was a pure cum slut wanting nothing more than to be filled hard with her Master's cum. With one hand on his bottom and one on his balls, she squirmed and thrust, showing her need for his stiff cock. He still held back, waiting for her to confess her need explicitly as well as with her hot squirming cunt.

"Harder", she said quietly. "Faster. Now. Do me hard." That was what he wanted to hear from her, and he thrust hard into her, pounding away, as if he were whipping her with thrusts of his cock, pressing hard into her and squeezing her ass up toward him to make it even more forceful.

But he wasn't done with her yet. He slowed slightly, pulled his hands from under her and started squeezing her boobs. They were his property too, and he was going to be sure she remembered it. He felt her spasm as he pinched the tits, and her cunt got even hotter and wetter. Her body was his, his toy, a receptacle for his cock and his cum, and he'd enjoy it anyway he wanted and for as long as he wanted. Yes, she could have her Master's seed, but she was going to pay for it. She couldn't kiss his ass while he was fucking her so mercilessly, but she knew that she'd have to do it, at least symbolically, before he'd stop pounding into her wet cunt.

It had been hard work training her to take his cock in her ass. And even harder to get her to kiss his ass, to tongue it the way he liked. She was well trained now, he could get whatever he wanted from a slave girl like her, and he reveled in it. And he insisted on her admitting it every time he fucked her. He saw the tension in her face as she prepared to do what she knew she had to do. Her finger in her mouth, the kiss on her finger to be delivered, her final submission of the morning. Her sexual spasms as she moved her hand around behind him. And the finger, the kiss delivered to her Master's ass as he plunged even harder into her, pumping cum into her cunt, seeming to pump endlessly as his orgasm went on and on and she squirmed and thrashed in his arms.

Afterwards, he took the slave into the shower with him. He loved toying with her body as she was required to submissively bathe his cock and balls. And it was fun feeling how juicy her cunt was after a session like that.

He got to thinking about what he'd do later. He'd pumped a lot of cum into the slave, he realized. However much he liked having her run around the place naked, that wouldn't work this morning unless he wanted puddles of sex juice on the floor. He'd have to put panties on her. But first, he thought, he'd make her kneel naked at his feet and beg for them. And maybe lick his cock for awhile. He'd liked they way she licked his balls this morning, maybe he'd get her to pay extra attention to his balls all day. The thought had a little life stirring in his cock already. Yes, he'd get a lot more out of her yet today...
--
Thorney 12/2002

2002-12-28T20:49:00.000-05:00

An Unusual Style for Topping.

There was a request in the newsgroup recently for more Tops to talk more about their style, what they do, but especially why and how.

While my 'top' style is obviously not a conventional one around here, I still have felt lonely occasionally writing from the 'top' point of view. (some others have done some nice writing here on this awhile back.) I think part of this is the sense I'm violating the old rule "don't kiss and tell". When I was younger it was definitely -not- etiquette to tell what you'd gotten the girl to do, especially once it got very intimate. Certainly Mrs. Thorney was very embarrassed, early on, at my telling some of the things that she did for me and some of the things she let me do to / for her.

There is, in telling 'top' things, a definite sense of bragging, which one is -not- supposed to do, and I (and eventually she) got comfortable only when people really reassured us that they found it encouraging to hear how much fun one could have at our ages (approaching 80 for her and sixty for me, at this writing) and that our different attitude toward things was, if strange, at least refreshing.

Certainly in my recent story "two views" I was trying to capture a male top space (and an imagined female top space, or top space as imagined by male bottom? I got no feedback on that aspect) in a rather 'straight' if uninhibited sex scene.

I'll try to reread some bits of my previous postings and see if I can't say more about goals, planning, why-this, and so on, in the future. I've given the basic points previously: she wants lots of attention and affection, wants to feel sexy and desired. I want lots of sexplay, lots of sex, lots of approval. I also want a strong sense of permission to do all the things that I wasn't supposed to be allowed to do as an adolescent.

So activities (whether in bed or serving dinner) in which I can look, touch, squeeze, fondle, etc., to my heart's content -- and which she is specifically required to display herself, bend, twist, etc., meet a need for both of us.

My requiring her to frequently specifically request attention ( as in "Please spank my bottom, Master", etc.) meets my need for explicit consent as well as giving her a chance to influence the choice of activities (top from the bottom) and let me know what activities are effective for her, what she'd like to have happen more often. I want her hungry for me -- so hungry that she'll "do anything" for me. So knowing what works for her, what her level of excitement is, is very important for me.

2002-12-24T13:19:00.000-05:00

See my webpage at

http://www.geocities.com/Thorney1z/stories.html

for several items that were once on this blog but have been deleted since why duplicate them?

2002-12-24T12:44:00.000-05:00

A bit more biography...

Mrs. Thorney and I are both retired Computer Science
Professors. She started in physics, I started in Math, we met
in Computer Science at a small college in the 1970's. She
was among the few women teaching college physics in the US
in 1946, and suffered most of her career from being a lone women
in a department of men. She has a Master's from a very respectable
university Physics department, I have a Ph.D. in math from a top
university. After our small college we moved to a research
university and have been lucky enough to travel and lecture all
over the world. (When I got tired of London, Paris, Amsterdam,
etc., I discovered I could go lecture in Budapest, Shanghai,
Torshaven, and even as isolated a place as Zomba, Malawi.)
This is my second marriage, her third. When we met we
were both divorced, had about half-a-dozen kids between us,
all ages. All the kids are now grown (ranging from one who got
tired of being a graduate Dean and went back to faculty, to one
still in grad school) and the numerous grandchildren are age
college senior down to pre-kindergarden.
As empty nesters, we are having the time of our lives.
We are about twenty years different in age. In sexual
upbringing we were members of different generations, with very
different vocabularies. I had a tendency to say 'fuck' when she'd
prefer 'make love'. Our fanatasies, desires, etc., seemed very
different. They merged beautifully.
Our backgrounds were different in other ways, too. She was
a liberal Protestant, I was (when we met) an orthodox Jew. But we
were past the age when 'what will the children be' was a question,
and we simply merged our interests. We now belong to a Reform
Temple (since she isn't good at Hebrew). We describe ourselves
as "traditional Jews Thursday through Saturday, Liberal Presbyterians
Sunday through Wednesday, except in the summer, when we are
Baptists". Mrs. Thorney says that description is unfair, slightly:
we live in the South winters and summer in the North, where the
local liberal church is Northern Baptist (American Baptist). It
actually had to have a meeting and amend its bylaws to cope with us.

2002-12-23T22:42:00.000-05:00

A First Entry, read this first...

OK, I think I finally have this working. Now, I get to try to start putting some stuff in. Well, actually, I've come back in July 2007 and revised a bit.

For some time, I've been active in a newsgroup, one of the ones that, on its surface, discussed bizarre sex, fetishes, etc. Ok, so it -does- discuss bizarre sex, fetishes, etc. It also has some of
the best discussions of sex, morals, etc., that I've run across on the web. But over time, I find I'm accumulating a large enough number of posts that even searching on Google doesn't help me to find the old posts of mine that I want to find.

I hope that by collecting some of the stuff in blog form I can get it into a more editable condition. The newsgroup: soc.subculture.bondage-bdsm

OK, having said that, if you are not of legal age, go away now. These musings are intended only for people of legal age to read adult stuff wherever they are, who are not offended by sex. It also helps if you aren't offended by bad jokes, frank discussions, etc.

I had also better say at the outset that my wife and I are both retired college professors, long married, lots of children and grandchildren. So we are not teenagers and aren't basically writing for teenagers; teenagers and people who are seriously into fetishes (bondage, for example) may find us rather boring.

Mrs. Thorney started teaching colleeg physics in 1946. For most of her career, she was the only woman faculty member in whatever department she taught in. I started teaching colleeg math in 1969. We got together, in computer science, in the late 1970's and married in 1983; after that we tended to be the only married couple in the department. So we often got to hear students' personal problems, love affairs, need for abortions, and the like. We are used to doing a lot of advising - both academic and personal. And one function of the newsgroup postings (and blog) is to help people learn ways to deal with odd urges, and to satisfy them in ways that don't hurt themselves or other people.

An admonition: it isn't hard to figure out our real names, but it isn't polite. And if you post in newsgroups, even anonymously, it is on the permanent record and twenty years later someone might go to the nuisance of figuring out what you post way back then and who you were and are. It has happened to prominent politicans and business executives. I / we didn't start posting until late in our careers and long past the days when we might decide to enter politics. If you are a college student and don't yet know whether you want someday to be prominent, consider carefully what you write. Sorry about that. Personal e-mails -may- not reappear in quite the same way; sometimes people have e-mailed us questions and suggested we post the question and answer in a newsgroup rather than them post it themself.