We may be kinky, but we pretty much stuck to tradition with for our family’s being present and all. It was quite a moving ceremony.

It’s been a while since Mistress Roulette has updated her blog. There are three reasons for that. The first is that nothing really seems to get her writing like emotional distress, and she hasn’t been going through much of that lately. Since her last post, she and Jack got back together. So she isn’t going through the breakup blues anymore.

The second reason that she hasn’t been updating her blog as much is that she just started a new job working at my casino and that’s taken up a lot of her free time. Lastly, and strangely connected to this new job, she and I are getting formally married. It’s a long stony, but she’s planning a wedding for the end of this month, and it’s taking up all of her free time.

I’ve been meaning to out a Podcast out, but every time I think would be a good time, suddenly wedding planning starts happening. Last night I thought for sure we’d have a couple of hours before we left for Texas for the holidays, but a new friend of Roulette’s from work (it does her good to have new female friends, BTW) came over and they were picking out rings for her.

We did record a video on Thanksgiving. It was when she was really overcome with blues about her break up with Jack. Strangely enough, she starts crying about half the way through the video. If you want to buy this video, check out “How to Break Your Man, Part 3″ over in the gallery. I made a preview video for you to watch if you’d like to see it.

Other than that, I hope everyone has a good Christmas.

I consume a fair amount of pornography, and lesbianism has to be my absolute favorite topic. It started when I was an adolescent and got a hold of my first bunch of Penthouse magazines. The sight of Janine Lindemulder getting licked by “Robin” grabbed me in ways that just made me want to cum. I had a real crush on Janine Lindemulder back in those days. I fantasized that I would one day head out to Los Angeles and find her. It’s funny how things work out. Janine’s now the ex-wife of Jesse James, a classification she shares with Sandra Bullock, and is fighting for custody of her children. I remember being in the checkout isle of a grocery store and seeing the title, “Sandra Bullock fights for custody with Porn Queen” and thinking how sad it was that Janine wasn’t even entitled to a name. I guess she should have stuck to girls. Come to think of it, Janine and Sandra Bullock… hmm.

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He’s been very good, too. I’d like to reward him for his behaviour — but with what? Hey, maybe you’ve got some fun suggestions or exciting ideas I could incorporate into our scene …

If so, I’d love to hear ‘em. And never forget, my group members — my Best Bets — always have full access to not only the chastity journal, but my little devious pontifications. In fact, they can ask me anything they want to.

Would you like to join up? It’s easy — and totally free. (And don’t worry about being approved; I’ll take care of that for you.)

I wonder what wild and crazy things we’ll cook up this time — or if we’ll just be kickin’ it old school. (I do love a good T&D scene.)

Decisions, decisions.

Like other women I’ve dated, Roulette developed an non-penetrative way to achieve orgasm from all of her years spent as an abstinent teenager. She has the ability to sit in my lap and grind her naked pussy against my cock until she achieves orgasm. It’s quite hot, actually; particularly, if it’s being coupled with a tease and denial scene, as she is often wont to do.

As I’ve written in prior posts, episodes of chastity tend to give me these overwhelming feelings of intensity. On Saturday night, I was definitely feeling it, and she had already let me know that I would NOT be coming this weekend. I felt the telltale sense of growing awe as I got home from work that night and looked upon her; the femininity of her body always seems so amazing about three days into chastity. The shape of her face, the heave of her breasts, and the feel of her ass, all seem to be entirely new; it’s as though she were the only woman in the world to me.

But with that sense of awe also comes a sense of dread, for she is going to use me for her pleasure and I am to be kept wanting. With that in mind, she took me over to the couch, sat straddle of my lap, and started kissing me. She and I really enjoy long make-out sessions, although, during these times my submissiveness really comes through. I just melt under her as she pushes my face back and runs her tongue down the length of my neck. We continue making out as she whips my longing for her into a fevered pitch and then commands me to take my pants off. I do so and sit submissively on the couch waiting for her next move.

She stands before me as I sit on the couch and look at her. Given my submissive mindset and the need to come, the power of her sexuality intimidates and scares me as she lowers her panties to her ankles. I have no idea what she’s going to do to me, but I’m already under her thumb and feel a growing sense of dread as she straddles my lap. She positions herself so that her pussy is rubbing right against my cock and begins to grind away as I’m forced to helplessly watch her get herself off. (more…)

Well I’m back in Chastity until at least Monday. It was so nice to get relief on Monday. Mistress took me with her strap-on as she allowed me to touch myself. We did not have a long and involved resolution to the period of chastity as she had expected because she just hadn’t been feeling well, but the release is always wonderful.

Unlike other female-led relationships I read about online, ours has power exchange elements that can reverse at times. That is to say, when she’s not exercising control, she allows me certain liberties in regards to “taking her.” I think it’s a fundamental right of all women to be “taken” sexually by the one they want. I think it a primal need to feel desired and wanted and validated that just can’t get expressed during periods of chastity and extreme control. So the next morning I enjoyed a more aggressive sexual experience that culminated in my using her breasts to achieve orgasm. Apparently this was the first time she had ever allowed a man to do this to her, and I was very happy to be one of her firsts.

I love the feeling of my cock sliding between her tits- knowledge that she has used to her advantage during certain teasing scenes. But that orgasm was the last one I’ve had in the last three days and we are now beginning chastity again. At this point, I feel very excited about what this period of chastity may bring me. I’m simply overcome by raw enthusiasm and the hope of new experience. I will, of course, keep everyone apprised as to my progress.

Frustration 1, Arousal 3

When my boyfriend, Mr. P, told me a couple of days into our most recent experiment with chastity that if I didn’t do the scene soon, he’d start deliberately picking fights and creating disharmony in our usually level and very rarely rocky relationship, I took heed. Within seconds, I could feel the control being silently taken from me; the pressure of having to perform starting to bear down. If my emotions didn’t ebb and flow to the same rhythm as his need for abuse, then he was going to actively bring it out of me — even if not necessarily consciously. It was an important piece of honesty, which I praised him for, and appreciated his expressing it to me. But it didn’t lessen my predicament in any way.

See, I wasn’t ready yet. Not nearly. My head was swimming with intriguing and intense behavioural modification methodology, since part of the grand scheme is learning to transform some facets of our darker natures into that which can be better integrated into our base personalities. Namely, his, since mine can be expressed through my fiction, or even being particularly forceful in my demeanour. His, however, needs direct, merciless abuse.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to abuse the one you love? More so, if you have been abused by people who, at points of your life, have claimed to love you?

Talk about a mindfuck. (more…)

Apparently mistress took my last post to heart. She has a big heart and she cares deeply for me. I suppose that’s why we’re so happy together. I’ve been with dommes before who have the level of concern for me that she does, and I am never able to achieve the feelings of appreciation and closeness that I do with her.

At any rate, she delayed the strap-on and abuse scene she had been planning for a couple of days after reading my last post. It seemed she couldn’t bear going through with it knowing how hard it made things for me. So we had a long talk last night, mainly about her repression. She has a dark and sadistic side that is the seat of both her cruelty and her sexuality, but she, like me, keeps it hidden under a deeply rational side that feels a great deal of concern and is easily motivated towards guilt. I expressed to her a few things: (more…)

Last night was the first night of teasing in our new chastity regimen. It leads to strange sensations that remind me of unhappier times in my life. The teasing fills me with an intense but unrequited desire for release. Ordinary things about my lover seem to take on new meaning- the fall of her breasts, the shape of her hips, the line of her jaw- all seem somehow more erotic and (particularly) powerful. I often murmur to her that, “I want you.”

Last night she replied with, “I’m right here.” Which, of course, doesn’t really help me because my desire is more specific.

Really what I’m saying is that “I desire to use you to achieve a form or release that will bring us closeness and a sense of fulfillment.” And what she’s telling me, often specifically, is that she’s available to hold me, but has no desire to bring a premature end to our experiment in chastity.

It reminds me of getting my heart broken. (more…)

As the gentle melody of Phillip Glass rises and falls to the nondescript carpeting of our modest apartment, lapping at my ears and soothing my frayed nerves and heightened senses, he writes to me.

I’ve asked him, again, because I believe in him; I believe in this. He isn’t writing to turn me on, to make me wet, to prove to me that he can do it. He’s writing for me, because I’ve asked him, and because it’s within his nature and talents to do so. It isn’t an assignment; it’s a feeling. Not a task, but a total immersion.

Because when he writes … he steals the moment from me, and holds onto it, preciously, for safe-keeping until further notice. He has done so many times, and in each, he reminds me not only why I love him, but why I always have — even before I really knew it. As I watched him chew idly at (many) pen caps, reclining in an office chair, contemplating his next move: be it to bet, raise, or fold; invest, stop, or pull, engage or disengage from any particular event, or, always stirring in the recesses of his consciousness: where will he go from here?

Here, where we are today, is different from what I’d ever imagined, sitting mere feet from him, at my desk in his office; sharing his space, quietly wondering if he felt I was in violation, or if it was truly welcome. That poker face. I never could read him. He was too good — even for me. (And that is saying something.) I wouldn’t know … for years. I’d never even really, honestly, had a dream come true, as they say, that meant something to me. But it was worth the wait.

Even as I sat disbelieving, watching, wondering, waiting, hoping — just maybe, maybe some day, I’d have a real glimpse into his inner-workings; some sort of passage into the deep inner-sanctum. The place where he keeps his dreams, his secrets, his deepest yearnings, longings, fears, and nightmares … If I could hold that key, we would be complete. Not I, not he — but we would be complete.

I don’t ask him to write for me, but for us. It always jostles the lock, just enough, so that I can peer inside yet again. And the wonders that I behold … every time …

I ask him to write for me — not (only) because it arouses or excites me; but because it takes my breath away.