Carrot Soup

On Wednesday, we had a lot of excess carrots at work which should be dumped if I had not taken them. I don’t like to waste food and every now and then I take something home which otherwise would have ended in the dustbin. Some of my colleagues have adapted to that and take stuff with them, too 🙂 Wednesday evening I made a carrot quiche and a sweet-sour carrot salad. John was not enthusiastic about it, but ate it anyway. But there were still carrots left, so yesterday I made a carrot soup with rosmary bread.

When Love came home from work and sat down for dinner, he watched me bewildered. “Carrots again?” I nodded. “Yeah, see, I don’t want to waste them.” “And I don’t to eat them. Is that your idea of an appropriate meal for a hard working man, son?” Ugh. I tried to explain that carrots are healthy and that I added a draught of wine to the soup and then offered to fry a steak, but John still looked at his bowl with disgust. “Undress.” I was confused. “But…” “I said, undress. Now.” He seemed to be really mad, so I did what he told me. “Put that ridiculous limp cock on the table.” I did. He took the trivet, a solid wooden tray, and placed it upon my cock, then set the heavy pot on top. Ugh, that hurt! But I was glad the heat that came through was bearable. He came to my side and squeezed my balls firmly. “I will go out to have dinner. You’ll stay here and enjoy your soup”. I swallowed. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir, I-“. “Shut up, boy. I’m not in the mood to listen to your babble.” He went to the fridge and took out another carrot, added some oil and placed it into me. Ugh, that was cold! Then he went out of the kitchen, shortly afterwards returned with his shoes and jacket on. “Start rubbing you nipples.” “Uhm…yes, Sir”. “Any complaints? D’you want me to open the window? Or so?” “Uhm, no, Sir, thank you, Sir”. He left without another word.

To put it short, it was very uncomfortable. John stayed away a bit longer than one and a half hour. I am used to stand straight because he often makes me do so, but the heavy trivet with the pot on it began to hurt, my nipples were quickly very sensitive and when I got a stiffy, my situation did not improve. I had to arrange the trivet new for three times, because I feared it would fall down. And althought I had the radiator running, it grew uncomfortably cold. After a while I got a bit sick of smelling the soup all the time, but I went on rubbing my nipples. Being able to look at the kitchen clock all the time did not help. Thankfully the carrot inside of me had quickly become warm.

When John returned, I was a mess. I was cold, hungry, exhausted and horny. He took his time to change, then entered the kitchen and sat down beside me, watching me without saying a word. “Uhm, Sir, I hope you had a nice meal?”. He smiled. “I had, but that was not your merit”. “I am sorry, Sir.” “You should be.” “I am.” I was still rubbing my nipples with my ankles hurting a bit. “I have allowed you to be a vegetarian.” “Yes, Sir.” “I am not and I don’t want to be”. “No, Sir.” “I won’t accept it if you try to make me one.” “I know, Sir, I’m sorry”. Again he watched me. “Did you enjoy your carrots?” I blushed. “A bit, Sir, thank you”. He came behind me and moved the carrot. I groaned with lust. I could feel the warmth of his body and his breath on my skin. “It would be reasonable if I did not fuck you now”, he whispered into my ear, “but thinking of my naked son standing here, I was horny all the time”. He removed the carrot and put in in the dustbin, then I could feel his hard cock inside of me. It’s always pain and lust to welcome him, like caring for a wound that’s always been there. The soup was spilled while he pounded me, but he did not care. It didn’t take long to get me there. “May I cum, please?” “You may”. Oh, what a long awaited pleasure! It was weird to cum with the tray still on my cock, but it was intense. Love came to my side and skeeted into the residual soup in the pot.

After we both had calmed down a bit, he said: “Clean yourself and the kitchen, get dressed and then eat your soup”. I did as he told me and he corrected me when I wanted to warm the soup again. I was supposed to eat it cold and with his cum. Of course. The lesson I learned: there won’t be carrots again this months and I cannot save every single carrot from the dustbin…


Being There

Yesterday, when Love and I came home from doing the shopping and he carved his teeth deep into a bought cupcake and most of the frosting stuck to his nose, I had to smile. I don’t know why, but to me, this was one of those moments when I feel deep gratefulness for that sweet man by my side. It’s not about being neat all the time, or about being cool or about sex, anyway. It’s just the certainty that HE is an essential part of your life and fills your life with love, joy and the knowledge that you belong to him.


In my Yoga class for men only I have met D. He’s straight, so no rumours, please 🙂 We have met for lunch several times and by and by he asked me about my relationship to John, but it was only this week I found out why: he’s submissive, too, but has never attempted to live out his affection. He asked me one thing I’ve been pondering on ever since: what is it like to live such a 24/7-BDSM-relationship? I thought it might be interesting to put it down for my blog.

So, what is it like? First of all, I think it’s not suitable for everyone who is into BDSM. It’s one thing to play in a settled space of time, it’s another to live it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (24/7). For some people it’s attracting to dive into a safe sphere where they can live out their affections, but to know that they’ll be back into their “normal” every day lifes when the session is finished. They can let go in this safe playtime and then change back into their normal role. That’s different to when you’re doing it 24/7. There is no longer that difference between playtime and normal life. You extend your role until it fills the whole time and your whole life. This is only suitable for people who are REALLY into BDSM and for whom it is not only a fetish or so but a lifestyle. I’d say you’ll know whether or not this lifestyle suits you if you try it and do not miss anything. If you find yourself mourning about a loss of “normal life” or your “normal activities” or so, then a 24/7-relationship won’t probably fit your needs.

This leads to the second point. That 24/7-thing seems to fit you only if you’re into it by nature. If Master or sub is a role that allows you to let go and experience sexual arousal and relief, that’s fine, But you’ll only like a 24/7-relationship if you’re dominant or submisse by nature. It would take too much effort to keep up a role that does not correlate to who you are, to your core-personality. Again, in a BDSM set-up that’s only meant to last for a weekend or so, it’s okay to adjust to your role, but in everyday life it would be nerve-racking to try to keep up a role that does not fit your personality.

For John and me, as we are dominant and submissive by nature, it’s very natural to live like we do. I have to admit that I thought it was strange when John had the first flu during our new relationship and then was not that dominant, but needed comfort from me, but I have adjusted to that. Just because he’s dominant, he doesn’t have to hide his weakness. Perhaps a Dom who can show compassion and weakness is even more authentic and attractive than that kind of robot-Dom in BDSM-Movies.

A 24/7-relationship is not only about sex. To put it short: a day has 24 hours and most of the time you sleep, do your chores or just spend the time with your Love without fucking. If you’re into BDSM-sex, that’s fine, but then you won’t need a 24/7-relationship to fulfill your needs. For us, it’s about caring for each other in that “special” way, it’s about love, respect, understanding and allowing each other to be who he really is. There are a lot of prejudices about 24/7-relationships like I am not to have my own money or my own opinion or to contradict Love. That’s bullshit, at least in our marriage. John actually encourages me to contradict him and have my own money (and spend it). In fact, he’s the only partner that ever encouraged me to develop, to overcome fears and traumas and do things that do me well like Yoga, meeting friends and so on.

Where’s then the difference to a normal, not-BDSMy relationship? I guess you could say we have a classical, somehow vintage marriage.  I’m the guy to help John out of his jacket, bring his slippers and a cup of tea, asking him how his day was, serving him in any way to please him. Again, if you’re not into that, it won’t please you but make you feel exploited and subdued. To me, it’s heaven.

Smoking May Cause Damage

Yesterday, Love was a bit tired. He had had very much work to do in the past weeks and even though I tried my best to help him recreate, he was just wiped out. I made something special for dinner yesterday and afterwards John wanted to watch T.V., drink a glass of wine and smoke a cigar. He is not a regular smoker, but every now and then he enjoys a cigar. When he sat there, I tried to focus on the T.V., but I failed. He’s so damn sexy when he’s smoking. It’s not neccesarily that I think about having passive oral sex with him, but it’s just his behaviour and his gestures. Of course I could not hide my thoughts and he saw my expression, but he did not say anything. He had me refill his glass and pretended not to witness my increasing interest in him. A thought came up in my mind. “Uhm, Sir, sorry for interrupting, but I have just thought about a thing I saw on the web.” He allowed me to tell him. I had seen a Dom putting the ashes from his cigarette into his sub’s hands. “Oh come on, that’s damn boring”, John delivered his judgement. He waited a moment, then added “It’d be more interesting to put the ashes right into your mouth. Might be you’ll then learn to keep it shut while I watch T.V.”. Ugh, yes, might be. Then again, he just kept smoking and pretending not to literally hear my question whether or not I should get down on my knees next to him and open my mouth.

See, with cigars and cigarettes I have my difficulties. My father used to smoke and he stubbed out his ashes on my skin. I somehow got used to it, but of course it hurt every single time. It was meant to hurt. He threatened me by telling me he could put a lit cigarette in my eye and he even did that to my tongue, my nipples and my genitals. I hated his smell after smoke and sweat. But then again, Julian was a smoker, too, and I don’t know why, but he smelled and tasted good, some kind of manly and strong. I myself do not smoke. I have tried it, but I did not like it. It did no good to my lungs and I did not like the taste and the way my skin and clothes smelled afterwards. All in all, smoking is a bit of a double-edged sword for me.

When John suggested, he might put his ashes right into my mouth, he could be sure I felt pleasure and a bit of fear at the same time. Pleasure due to my submissive affection and fear because of my past. And by not replying to me, he stretched my exertion. He took a few more sips from his wine, then decided “Come here and take it”. I knelt before him, while he opened his zipper and put his cock into my mouth. I wanted to work on him, but he told me to just keep still, while he kept smoking, drinking wine and watching T.V. That’s hard, you know. I fancy his cock and I fancy giving him BJs, and feeling him inside my mouth without moving is demanding. A bit later, Love finished his cigar, and when the broadcast was over, he just kept still and did nothing. The worst part of being submissive. I moved my tongue a bit to tease him. Immediately he slapped my cheek. “Didn’t I tell you to keep still?” I nodded and simultaneously felt growing arousal. I like being hit in the face. I think it’s the ultimate degradation.

John took the newspapers and began reading. My jaws started to hurt. Keeping still in this position is like the essence of being a sub. Your knees hurt, your jaws hurt, your cock is pulsing against your pants, you got your Master deep inside of you, but he keeps you from all the pleasurable things you could do. Love took his time finishing the newpapers and his glass of wine, then looked at me and began caressing my face which was very exciting. “You’re such a poor guy, waiting there, aren’t you?” He smiled. “I’m sure you’d like to suck me off?” I nodded while he kept stroking me. He smiled again. “I’m sorry, son, not today”. He let his cock slip out of my mouth and took a streak of my hair to wipe it dry. I wanted to sit up, but he told me to stay and watch, while he began masturbating. I know it’s weird, but being kept from pleasing him hurts. Several times he put his cock near my mouth, only to take it back again. When he was near to the peak he asked me “You want to eat it?”. Of course I wanted! But then the laughed and took the ashtray. He shot his full wad on the ashes. I felt sad and rejected, but somehow liked it. After he had cum, he allowed me to lick his cock clean and then again keep it in my mouth.

We sat there for a while and when John had calmed down a bit, he again began stroking my hair and face. “Ok, son, make it hard again”. I looked up and he smiled lovingly. I did as he told me. To me, it’s just beautiful to pleasure my Love. When he had a stiffy, he told me to stop and straighten up. When I did, he handed the ashtray to me. “Lick it up and keep it in your mouth. Don’t dare swallowing a drop! Don’t spill!”. I did as he told me and as soon as my tongue hit the ashes, I asked myself whether that really was a good idea, because it tasted quite awful. Love jockeyed me to the couch, kneeling. He lowered my pants and found my hard dick, but did not pay any attention to it. When he slid into me, I wanted to sigh in relief, but I could only moan quietly due to the mixture of ashes and his cum inside my mouth.

He bagan pounding me, but I felt like I could not enjoy it to the max because I could not open my mouth and utter my excitement. After a while, my mouth was full because of the splittle I could not swallow, but Love just kept fucking me, keeping me from full pleasure. When he had cum, he told me to keep kneeling, putting his empty wine-glass under me and catching all of his cum. Then he held the glass under my mouth and told me to spit everything I had collected in my mouth into the glass. It was not an eye candy. “Help yourself”, he demanded and handed the jar to me. “Don’t waste a drop”. I did as he told me and masturbated until I climaxed, then carefully collected my sap into the glass. “Well done”. He put it aside, pretending not to recognize my questioning face. I crawled up inside his arms and we lay there for a whole while. I had begun to think that John had forgotten about the glass, when he said “It’s bedtime”, but when I wanted to get up, he held me back. “Wait, precious. You’ve fogotten the dishes”. He handed to glass to me. “Clean it up”.

Ugh! Warm juices are one thing, but chilled juices are another! I have no other word to describe it: pestilent! I tried my best to swallow it down quickly, but of course a lot remained inside the glass. John had me lick it all clean, the remains by helping myself with my fingers. When I was finished and he saw my face, he broke out in laughter. “Well, they’re true: smoking may cause damage to your health!”. Yeah.


Last weekend, L was here again with us, and we had such a fun time. When he arrived by train on friday afternoon, John still had a bit of work to do so that I fetched him from the station. We went home, had a tea together and talked a bit. We both felt some kind of anxiety as we have not been together without John yet. We had settled on the two ends of the couch and tried not to be too near to each other, until L addressed it. He asked whether I’d feel uncomfortable being alone with him, and I replied that I’m unsure about what would be ok with John and what not. L softly took my hand, then we kissed, but decided to ask John about it.

Shortly after Love returned home we began cooking together, but John felt we had something to talk about. After we had finished the meal, he wanted to know about it and was surprised to find we’re so insecure. He assured us that he’s ok with the both of us kissing, cuddling or doing even more when he’s not around. “Don’t be shy, guys”. For me, this is all new, and I thought John would be the last man I’d ever love. I had not expected our relationship to be capable of a third man, and I am still surprised about it. But I like it anyway.

We tried to spend the evening watching a movie, but we could not keep our hands off each other. L is not into BDSM, but it seems John wants to show him how nice it is to have a sub around. He made me kneel before him and just holding his cock in my mouth while they were kissing and smooching and I guess he liked it, when Love decided I’d not be allowed to climax that evening. Well, I liked it, too.

On Saturday, we stayed in bed until noon, then did the shopping together. John suggested we could go to the cinema, but there was no movie of interest, so we had dinner in a restaurant and then had a walk through town. Later at home both of them dominated me, which really turned me on. It’s a bit embarrasing to hear your Dom tell someone you really like and want to be liked from what you’re into, like “oh yes, he freaks out getting fucked by a small toy” or “sure he likes drinking piss, don’t ya, honey?”. But hell, yes, it also turned me on LOL

L had to leave on Sunday afternoon and as usual Love and I felt a bit deserted when the train had left. John invited me to a cup of tea in a cafĂ© at the station and I felt he was thoughtful. When we sat in his car, he said “I don’t know how to cope with that”. I knew he spoke of the permanent distance between us. The only thing I could say was that perhaps it might get better when it’s no longer that new for all of us, when we’re getting more used to it. When seperation becomes normality. The words were just out, when I already regretted them. John looked very sad. I know, for him it must be unlikely harder than for me, because he had missed L almost his whole life through. “See, at the moment I can’t think of any solution. You’re both bound to your jobs, you both can’t leave”, I told him and he nodded. That was the kick-off for a long talk about what might be in the future, given that we stay together and that our feelings for each other deepen. At the moment, I can’t imagine moving elsewhere. My family lives here, my friends and work are here, but at least I guess John means more to me than all of that. I don’t know if I could take moving abroad, be it Switzerland or England. At the moment these thoughts overcharge me. It’s good we don’t have to decide right now. It’ll need time to grow, and that’s what I told John, too. I hope he’ll be ok with it.

In two weeks, the two guys will meet in a big city in Austria, where L has to go for his job, but I’ll stay at home because of work. It’s ok, although I’ll miss them. But perhaps it’s good if they can spend some time together alone, talk about their past and just trying to find a bit of peace. Anyway, L and I have decided to talk more often to each other on the phone.