Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the United States. It’s the one holiday that hasn’t been commercialized here. It’s a day of football and feasting. This year, Mrs. Lion and I are hosting two guests who invited themselves to our dinner for two. One of them is a former coworker with Mrs. Lion. She not only invited herself but also announced she was bringing her mother. Last year, she invited us to Thanksgiving dinner at her friend’s house. Amazing!
We declined.

We plan to have a smoked turkey breast with all the trimmings: sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, biscuits, and apple pie. Note the absence of nutrition. It’s a celebration of protein and carbs. I love it! It isn’t too big a deal to make enough for four. I’m spending a good part of today preparing some of the goodies. This will be the first turkey breast I’ve smoked. I hope it turns out tasty. If it doesn’t, our impromptu guests will have to deal with it. I love Thanksgiving dinner. There are always leftovers we can enjoy for a week afterward.

I like good food. I like it too much. However, my  body is shedding its excess pounds. I’ve lost a lot of weight but still have more to go. All diet bets are off for Thanksgiving and the days after. That means my lunches will be uninteresting, low-Calorie frozen entrees. I’m used to paying for pleasure with pain. Usually the pain comes first; but not with food.

Sadly, crass commercial interests intrude on some family’s Thanksgiving. Many stores are open on Thanksgiving. Mrs. Lion used to work in retail. She would have to spend the holiday working. This doesn’t just impact the people who have to go to work. Their families also end up as victims to this cruel practice.

Then, there’s black Friday. It’s a sick tradition that retailers have now extended into Thanksgiving (which, of course, is on Thursday). I never shop on black Friday or the weekend following. It’s simply insane. I do most of my shopping online. However, Mrs. Lion’s present this year will require her presence and probably will have to be purchased in person. No problem.

Mrs. Lion has a ton of work to do by Thursday evening’s dinner. She is handling the cleaning. I can’t help there because of my allergies. I will do most of the cooking. That’s typical for us. We both work hard.

We will have a great time. We love to be together and this year, apparently we are doing a good deed too.

 

 

 

I haven’t looked for the blindfold yet. I know I said I was going to. I have an idea where it is. I just can’t get to it. I used to make fun of my aunt whose spare bed always had things all over it. Karma is a bitch. Our spare bedroom is much worse. If we don’t know where to throw something to get it out of the way, we toss it in there. It’s beyond out of control.

I know I can use other things as blindfolds. If I had a silk scarf that would work well. I don’t. I might be able to use one of Lion’s ties although he may not like that idea. Wrinkles in his good ties. And I don’t think he has anything other than “good” ties. When he was in the sling I told him I could throw a towel over his face so he couldn’t see what was coming. He said that would be fine.

When I looked online for blindfolds I found all sorts. Somewhere we have a hood similar to one I saw on Extreme Restraints website. And I’m wondering if I can use a pillow case in a pinch. Since I’m not up for the excavating required to find the actual blindfold in the spare bedroom, a pillow case would definitely be easier. It would also be less confining, but I guess that’s one of the selling points for a hood.

Another thought that just ran through my mind is a cone of shame. You know, the ones dogs wear so they won’t lick stitches. It wouldn’t be as confining in some respects. It would certainly be humiliating. It would keep Lion form licking himself, that’s for sure! It would also keep him from seeing what’s going on down below. Just a thought.

Lion is back to his horny self after his orgasm on Saturday. He’s also still itching and uncomfortable. Any thoughts of making him uncomfortable sex-wise has to take into account the fact that he’s uncomfortable allergy-wise. I think a blindfold or pillow case could work. A hood would be too confining for him at this point. Yes, I do take his comfort into account even when I’m torturing him in other ways.

[Lion – Actually, the blindfold or hood is fine. It is unlikely they will cause me to itch. Just sayin’.]

It’s only three days since my long wait ended with a bang. Yesterday, sitting at my desk, my mind wandered to how great it feels when my lioness uses her hand and mouth to arouse me. I sent her an email letting her know I was ready for action. She replied that she will be happy to make my horniness worse. What a sweetie!

I don’t understand why my level of arousal is so high early in the wait and declines as the days go by. I would swear the reverse should be true. But it isn’t; at least not for the first couple of weeks. Regardless of my sexual, mental state, Mrs. Lion can expertly get me aroused whenever she wants. I like that.

It seems to me that most guys are sexually goal oriented. They want to ejaculate. In fact, they get upset if a sexual encounter doesn’t end in ejaculation. I was that way too. But at some point I became fascinated by orgasm control. For many years I’ve been aware that a lot of women find giving oral sex or hand jobs a power rush. They like that they can control this most primal of male functions.

I wonder if our keyholders feel that way too. Or does Mrs. Lion find controlling my sexual experience just a routine part of her daily life. I can never consider edging and enforced chastity routine. Yes, I’m accustomed to not ejaculating when I am sexually aroused. That doesn’t stop my lizard brain from wanting me to ejaculate. It doesn’t care about the higher brain’s participation in this sexual game. It only knows that if a female is sexually available, it wants me to ejaculate. Period.

This primal part of males is what I think makes sexually controlling us so exciting. At some level, every woman knows that once she has a hard penis in her hand or mouth, she has the lizard brain on a leash. If she stops before he can ejaculate, she can feel the lizard brain straining at its leash. It doesn’t matter if this is first or thousandth experience, that lizard wants to run all the way to the end. It hates that leash, even if the higher brain functions likes the exercise of power.

I wonder if Mrs. Lion knows this. She’s said that the fun of edging me is the danger of going too far and setting off a ruined orgasm. She’s never expressed any thoughts of the primal power she exerts over me.

I also wonder how many guys understand why they can never become accustomed to being edged. We want to be teased. We are delighted when our partners start. Even though we are fully aware that we will not get over the top, once we get hard, our lizard brain takes over and we can only think of ejaculating. I think the repeated defeats of our lizard brains is a big part of what makes us feel submissive.

Submission is an intellectual concept. It can be defined in terms of the power exchange. Agreements can be written and signed. Rules and punishment are understood and felt. But they are higher brain concepts. Orgasm denial reaches the part of us that doesn’t sign agreements. It doesn’t care what the higher brain wants. The lizard brain only knows that the penis is being stimulated. It wants to order ejaculation. But it can’t until physiological height of arousal is reached. If stimulation stops before that point, frustration replaces arousal.

Women who understand the primal male imperative to ejaculate, can use this imperative to control us. We can’t defend against it. No matter how much we want to help and not ejaculate, once the lizard brain takes over, we want to come. I can feel when this happens to me. I’m very happy I’m going to be teased. I love feeling Mrs. Lion’s hand on my penis. Then, without warning, I feel the need to ejaculate building up. All I can do is try my best to do it. I change. Mrs. Lion can see it and use the changes to time her denial.

When I reach the edge and she stops, I will sometimes thrust instinctively. I may groan, grit my teeth, and just want to ejaculate. Then, after a short time, my upper brain takes over and I sigh and brace for her next onslaught. And it happens again, and again. I react the same way each time. I can’t help it. My lizard brain hates its leash.

 

I didn’t get any cleaning done this weekend like I should have. Now I have to do it between tonight and whatever time we schedule dinner on Thursday. The house doesn’t look as bad as it has in the past, but there’s still a lot to do. Since most of it requires lifting and stirring up dust, Lion can’t help. I just have to plug away at it.

Lion informed me this morning that he’s horny again. He may have been last night too but his allergies drowned out any desire for sex. Tonight I’ll change the bed linens again and see if that helps him. I’m hoping we can snuggle at least.

Lion also informed me it’s punishment day. He’s been trying very hard not to get himself into trouble. I have a feeling he might be in danger on Thursday when he’s cooking and guests are coming. He swears he’s good under pressure but I’ve seen him get frazzled when things don’t go quite as expected. I’m thinking he might make some comments that will earn his buns a whomping. Thursday is punishment day as well. Those whomps could happen once the guests leave. It depends on how exhausted we are after cooking/cleaning all day.

The fact is, our guests are my friend and her mother. And my friend more or less invited herself to dinner and then asked if her mother could come too. My friend is an acquired taste. She has some idiosyncrasies. Lion can handle her in small doses. Dinner sits right on the border of too long. Perhaps he’s correct to make comments. But that’s rude and Lion is not allowed to be rude. For now I’ll just put him on notice that I’ll be watching. I’m sure a well aimed glare in his direction will alert him that he’s getting close to the line.

Lion’s a good boy. I know he can behave for an afternoon.