1/21/2016 8:13:07 PM: Although I haven't had a lot of true BDSM experiences, I have an interesting story from my college days. At the time, I was dating a girl who was not really dominant, but had a definite kinky side. She was fascinated with bodily fluids and in particular had a fantasy about seeing a man swallow his own semen. I never really thought about doing that before, but the idea did turn me own. We tried doing it several times, but once I had my orgasm and ejaculated, I lost my desire to do it and became repulsed by it. She didn't want to force me to do it, so we pretty much gave up on the idea. One day, she was talking to one of her close girlfriends who was a nurse. Her friend told her about prostate massage, and how she could make me ejaculate without an orgasm. My girlfriend told me about what her nurse friend said, and I was skeptical, not to mention a little apprehensive when she told me it involved putting her finger up my butt. Nonetheless, she was so insistent that I agreed to let her try. She told me her friend said I should abstain from sex and masturbation for about a week to build up my semen. I was 23 at the time, and the idea of being celibate for a week did not make me happy. She proposed me the experience would be well worth the wait, so reluctantly, I agreed. By that Friday, it had been one week, and I was so horny I was ready to explode. When I arrived at my apartment after class, I saw my girlfriend had left a bag from the drugstore on the table. In it was a disposable enema, some KY jelly and a pair of rubber gloves. I didn't like the sight of any of those things, and I was contemplating masturbating just for the purpose of ending the whole idea there and then. Just then, my girlfriend walked in the apartment with her sweet smile and asked if I was ready for some fun. When she flashed me that smile, I couldn't hope to resist her. I told her I hated enemas, which I always used to get as a kid. She agreed that part was not much fun, but said her nurse friend told me it was important for me to get a good cleaning out first so it would be easier to reach my prostate. Knowing there was no way out, I picked up the enema and walked into the bathroom. After I used it, I took a shower and came out of the bathroom with only a towel around my waist. 'All clean, inside and out?' She asked with a smile. I said, 'yes, but so far, this plan hasn't been much fun for me.' She replied, with a twinkle in her eyes, 'Just wait!' We then went into the bedroom. She told me to get on all fours on the bed, with my butt near the end. I took off my towel and did as she said. She then put a glass goblet on the bed near my penis. 'that's for your milk,' she said, 'and we want to make sure we don't spill a drop.' Hearing her say that got me very excited for some reason, and my penis got rock hard. I heard her put on the rubber gloves. Next, she pulled my butt cheeks apart a little and I felt her put the cold jelly on my rectum. After that, she slowly inserted her finger. It hurt a little at first, but I tried to relax and it wen in easier. The initial pain of the insertion made my erection go down quickly. She felt around until she located my prostate, and when she did, I experienced a sudden rush of sensation. As she began to rub the gland, I felt pleasure, but also a sense of needing to pee very badly. Her nurse friend told us I might get this feeling, but I really wouldn't pee. My penis was sort of semi-hard during this time, and it moved a little as she massage the prostate. Suddenly, I began to feel a little wetness in my urethra. I looked down and could see a little bead of semen. I blurted out, 'it's happening!' She kept massaging and told me to hold the glass under my penis. Slowly, the semen began to come out. It wasn't like an ejaculation, where the semen shoots out; rather, it sort of oozed out. I didn't feel the strong contractions I felt during ejaculation, it was more like when I would finish peeing and the last few drops of pee would trickle out. Plus, seeing the semen come out of my semi soft penis was a weird sight. Finally, it stopped oozing, and I felt her pull her finger out of my rectum. She took off her gloves and rushed over to pick up the glass goblet. It didn't have much semen in it, probably about a teaspoon or so. But my girlfriend marveled at it. She told me, 'Just think, I forced this out of you!' I still felt aroused by the whole scene, unlike when I had an orgasm. My penis was getting hard again, and I could see the tip was still wet. 'Now comes the time we have been waiting for' she said. Handing me the goblet, she said, 'I want you to pour it on your tongue, but don't swallow until I tell you to. I want to see it on your tongue.' Trembling, I stuck out my tongue and poured the semen out. It dripped out of the goblet like mucus from a running nose. It felt weird on my tongue and had a very sharp taste and smelled a little like Comet cleanser. In spite of being turned on, I felt like I wanted to gag. My girlfriend pulled down her panties and started rubbing herself at the sight of the white semen on my tongue. 'Now swallow it!' she commanded. As I did, she grabbed me and began French kissing me to taste the semen in my mouth. We broke up not too long after that, and I've never been milked since. Still, I enjoyed the experience, and would love to repeat it one day!

11/4/2015 8:27:41 PM: i recently had an opportunity to recount a childhood spanking memory, and I thought I would add it to my journal. Like most real life spanking memories, it isn't particularly interesting, but it might provide some insights into my thoughts on guilt, punishment and redemption. I'll preface this by saying my mother, while strong willed, did not generally believe in spanking. I got yelled at and might occasionally get a poorly aimed swat on my bottom, but nothing that could be even charitably called a spanking. That all changed when I was 7. I can't render all the circumstances leading up to it exactly, but I recall I went to the hair salon with my mother. I was cutting up, and running around while my mother got her hair set. I remember knocking over a hair dryer, and spilling some products. The shop owner told my mother something like, 'that boy needs some discipline or he will turn into one of those hoodlums that end up in jail.' I remember thinking I didn't like the idea of being a hoodlum or ending up in jail, but I didn't really pay her much attention and kept running around. That's when my mother got really mad. I remember her telling me, 'when we get home, you are going to get a spanking.' Those words kind of stopped me in my tracks. As I said, I had never been really spanked, but some of my friends had, and from what they told me, it didn't sound like a pleasant experience. Still, I figured my mom wasn't serious, and probably just said it for the benefit of the shop owner. The whole way home in the car, though, she didn't say a word and had a very stern expression on her face. When I tried to turn on the radio, she said 'leave it alone' and I pulled my hand back. We drove in silence the rest of the way. When we got home, she immediately sent me to my room and told me to wait for her. She didn't say the word spanking, but in my heart, I knew that's what was going to happen. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I remember feeling a fear in the pit of my stomach. My mouth felt dry and my hands were shaking. I sat on the bed and began to think of plans. Part of me felt guilty for what I did at the hair salon and realized I might need punishment to stop me from being a hoodlum and ending up in jail. On the other hand, part of me wanted to get out of the spanking. Maybe I could apologize and change her mind. Maybe I could pretend I was sick and lock myself in the bathroom. But before I could formulate any plans, she came in with a wooden hairbrush and told me I was going to get what I deserved. She told me to stand up and then she pulled down my shorts and underwear. I remember feeling the cool air from the air conditioner on my bare cheeks. She told me to bend over. I was bawling before she even started. She gave me about ten smacks. Honestly, I don't remember how hard they were. I recall they hurt, but they were so quick, I didn't have time to react to each one. The spanking probably took all of two minutes, but in my mind, it lasted for hours. I don't remember much about what happened later, but I seem to recall my mother cooking dinner and everything returning to normal, with no mention of the spanking. After dinner, I took my bath as always, and I remember I looking at my still red and sore butt in the bathroom mirror. I remember thinking it was humiliating to see the evidence of my punishment. But at the same time, I felt sort of liberated. I had been bad, but now I had paid for my misdeed. My mother was no longer mad and nothing more would be said about what I had done. I was starting with a clean slate. When I woke up the next morning, I ran to the mirror, pulled down my pajamas and looked at my butt. It returned to its ordinary white. And so, it seemed, had my soul...

4/20/2013 6:46:34 PM: 'What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.'   Ecclesiastes 1:9

4/20/2013 6:32:57 PM: Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:'Table Normal'; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:''; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} After reviewing numerous profiles both here and elsewhere, it occurs to me that many disciplinarians discuss limits and indicate they will respect the submissive’s limitations with regard to corporal punishment.  It seems to me this is counterproductive to effective discipline.  I understand the desire to make the submissive feel comfortable with the relationship.  However, I think giving the submissive too much control over the nature of the punishment severely reduces any deterrent value the discipline might otherwise have. Discipline is and should be an unpleasant experience.  But if I am allowed to select the parameters of my discipline, I can choose something which I know I will be able to accept.  Thus, I have already set the punishment to a minimal level which will not have any particular deterrent value. By way of analogy, look to criminal penalties.  Suppose the state allowed each person to select the fine they will pay if they are caught speeding.   I could set my fine at $1.  Such a low fine would have no deterrent value at all, and I could speed at will, despite being “punished” by being fined $1.  In the same way, if I tell my disciplinarian she can spank me for any offense, but can only administer five light smacks with her palm, the “punishment” is little more than a token exercise. Now, I’m not saying you have to be beaten to a bloody pulp in order for discipline to be effective.  Under many circumstances, five light smacks might be appropriate punishment, but the difference is that the disciplinarian makes the selection, not me.  If I have selected the right disciplinarian, I know I can trust her to administer the appropriate and necessary punishment.  In some cases, I might think the punishment is too lenient and in some cases, I might think it is too harsh, but the difference is that it is not within my control.  Therein lies the deterrent value.  You might say, “well, that makes sense in theory, but what if my disciplinarian turns out to be a psychopathic sadist who wants to beat me into unconsciousness for fun?”   My response is that if you were careful during the selection process, you would  have developed enough information to trust your disciplinarian and would know that he or she would be acting in your best interests.  And frankly, if the person does turn out to be a psychopathic sadist, he or she probably won’t respect your safeword anyway.  It is why this is a dangerous game we play.  Caution, trust and common sense are paramount. Anyway, those are some brief thoughts of mine.  Disagreement is welcome. Respectfully submitted, James  

9/12/2009 11:56:07 AM: One thing that has fascinated me as I have learned more about the D/s lifestyle is that it gives me tools to understand earlier experiences in my life which I thought were impossible to categorize. For example, I remember an experience over twenty years ago. I was visiting my then-girlfriend after returning from a business trip. She was cleaning up, so being the thoughtful guy I am, I decided to help by emptying out her bathroom garbage can. As I did so, a freshly-used condom fell out. Since I had been away for over a week, I knew there was only one explanation, namely, that our supposedly-monogamous relationship was not what I thought it was. Of course, my vanilla side was devastated that she would betray my trust, and we ultimately broke up over it. Nonetheless, I remember at the time that I felt strangely turned on by the whole series of events. There was something very erotic about her in bed with another man behind my back. I felt very conflicted -- how could I be so hurt while at the same time, so aroused by this? Now, through the filter of twenty years experience, I realize I was trying to understand my experience through vanilla eyes only and my vanilla mind told me I was supposed to be deeply hurt. But my kinky side (which I didn't yet understand) was telling me this was a very arousing experience that I would have liked to have repeated. Once I learned about cuckolding fantasies, it suddenly came together in my mind, and I understood what i couldn't understand twenty years ago. If I knew then what I know now, it may have been the start of a very interesting relationship!