We went to the casino yesterday. We lost some money but we were entertained and that was the point. We got to play some games we’d never seen before as well as some favorites. I think if you go to a casino with the attitude that dinner and a show would cost about the same amount of money you lost then you’re in good shape. Of course if you win then it’s much better.

We got back to the camper just before 9. Lion was horny and wanted to be edged. Earlier in the day he requested that his next orgasm be a hand job. He said he couldn’t explain it but it felt different and he wanted to feel the difference. Maybe a blow job is more intense. Maybe he can savor it more with a hand job. Whatever the reason, I can certainly give him a hand job.

When I was done edging him last night he started humping air. I asked him why. He said he’d rather hump my hand but it wasn’t available. No, it wasn’t. Then he said he could hump his own hand. Uh, no. I don’t think so. It’s not that I haven’t thought about having him masturbate for me again, but I think it would be dangerous. What if he liked doing it so much he decided it was fine to do? It’s not fine to do. I don’t want him to do it. So no Lion masturbating. Sorry, my pet.

The good news is that I’m able to do it for him. I may not always do it to the end but I get him close. If you think about it, he gets more “sex” than the average guy. Getting close is almost as good as all the way and he lives to fight another day. If I gave him an orgasm every time he would need time to recover. This way he’s ready to go the next day again. And I can do that to him for days or weeks. Some men wait months. I’ve only made Lion wait 28 days.

Don’t worry, Lion. Your wait won’t be 28 days. Not even 28 hours. You’ll get your orgasm tonight.

I’m writing today’s post early. Sunday night’s  we got to play. I wasn’t sure we would get to do anything on this trip. The high altitude (just under 3,000 feet) reduces the amount of pollen in the air. That raises my horny quotient. We had a very good time. Mrs. Lion is firmly in 2.0 mode. When 1.0 put clothespins on a spot that made me wince, she would move it. 2.0 happily leaves in place and looks for other equally painful locations.

As she does this, jerks me off. I feel a combination of sharp pain and near-orgasmic pleasure. Wow! It’s a real trip. These opposing sensations have always been there when 1.0 played with me. But, when the intensity is dialed up by 2.0, It’s a very different experience. 2.0 doesn’t just dial up the pain. She also pushes me extremely close to orgasm. I lose track of time and place. I find myself living in the sensations.

One of the most exciting parts of this experience has nothing to do with what Mrs. Lion is doing. It’s how she is doing it. She appears empathy free. Her expression is impersonal. She’s pursuing an interesting hobby. Her face says she is trying to do a good job. She’s at work, perfecting her technique.

I think that’s incredibly hot. I know she really cares how much sensation she is inflicting. But she isn’t feeling the pain with me. She is trying to make it worse. That may sound horrible. But it isn’t. It’s exactly right. My pain (and frustration) and her impersonal administration of those sensations is the very essence of our roles.

I know this isn’t easy for her. 2.0 works through the difficulties. She’s started to vocalize as well. When I say, “Ouch!” or whine. She just responds with, “Does it hurt? It’s supposed to!”

All the time she is jerking me off. It’s amazing.

When she punished me a couple days ago, 2.0 was there too. Her technique subtly changed. She used a wooden spoon with rough anti-skid floor tape on it. That wasn’t the 2.0 part. It was her technique. She kept up a fairly fast pace with her paddle. She slowly dialed it up. She kept going and going. Perfect.

She may be surprised to read it, but I wanted her to go on longer. It wasn’t that I was having fun. It was more that I felt she was going somewhere. I was on a journey with her. We were on the way. While I know I will hate it, I really want her to keep going. My bottom can take a lot more. I know that when she makes this wish come true (and I am pretty sure that will happen soon since I interrupted her on Sunday) I will complain and say I regret telling her.

I don’t think that will be the whole truth. A really sore bottom will help me feel I paid for what I did. I don’t want to interrupt.

The educational benefit of a spanking isn’t the pain while it is being inflicted. It’s the constant reminder a sore bottom provides that truly sends the lasting message. If I interrupt again soon after punishment, it just means Mrs. Lion needs to increase the painful reminder she is providing. A sore butt is a great teacher.

I made sure we had time for play last night. I was planning on using Velcro on him but Lion had flashbacks to the sore on my weenie. He doesn’t want me to use Velcro again. I think he’s overreacting but I’ll retire the Velcro.

I put a lot of clothespins on my balls instead. I started out with wooden ones but threw in a plastic one every now and then. And I tugged at them while I edged him by hand. I’m sure they hurt in general but there were certain ones that really hurt. Not just the plastic ones. He’s got a few very sensitive areas. He told me afterwards how much the clothespins hurt. Well, duh. They were supposed to hurt.

When I reminded him he was the one who wanted to play he said he didn’t ask for clothespins. That’s true but he wouldn’t let me use Velcro. Clothespins were next in line. I’m sure he had fun. He wasn’t really complaining.

I was debating whether or not to give him an orgasm. Ultimately I decided to make him wait. We haven’t played that much and I want to torture him a bit more. Lion was surprised he didn’t get an orgasm. He says it’s been days and he’s horny. Poor thing. He’s horny. Good!

Tonight we’re heading for a casino so there may be no play. That’s why Lion thought there would be an orgasm last night. His horniness obscured the idea that maybe I was making him wait for Tuesday night on purpose. That’s our last night of the trip and he’ll get his sendoff then.


Have you noticed that on our site (and others), when the post deviates from your particular kinks, you might emit a silent “eeew”. Some alien kinks send little shocks of arousal; others are just repulsive. “Kink friendly” is a very relative term.

Since most people read the Journal because of an interest in enforced male chastity, the response to our posts about locking me up and edging me meet with approval. Hardware reviews are always well received. When we write about punishment, spanking, and other BDSM activities, I’m sure there are some mental “eeew’s” being expressed. I’m no different. There are kinks I just don’t like.

If my dislike is strong, I react very negatively. I wonder how anyone would want to do “that”. Isn’t that the way vanilla people react to a guy with his penis in a little cage? The point is that we aren’t that different from our vanilla brothers and sisters.

It’s perfectly natural to have these feelings. The trouble starts when people turn their private dislike into public condemnation. There’s nothing wrong with a private comment to Mrs. Lion. But it is horrible to turn the negative reaction into anything more.

Occasionally, we get massively intolerant comments to our posts. I usually delete them. They add nothing to the conversation. Occasionally, I’ll leave one up because it is too funny to delete. One guy was horrified that I don’t have pubic hair. His long comment explained to me that hair is natural and important (huh?) down there. I haven’t had any in over 20 years and nothing’s fallen off yet.

The point is that this guy was shocked. He had to educate us on the error of our ways. Others are equally offended by same sex couples, transsexuals, people with different skin color and men that let their wives spank them. Why do they react with outrage? Isn’t a puzzled shake of the head enough?

Intolerance is a common human fault. I think it is odd when people who practice sexually kinky activities, will react as intolerantly as vanilla people. Perhaps being tolerant is the ultimate kink.