Sunday, May 30, 2010


I didn't talk to her last night. I was up, again, half the night. Maybe the chastity cage would not be so bad if I wasn't in a state of constant sexual arousal.


I didn't talk to her last night, rare, we usually talk before bed.

She did text me, though.

"Love you."

I texted her back, but she didn't answer after that.

We did talk, for about two minutes this morning. Nothing much, no discussion about last night.

"I'll tell you about it when I get home," she said.

"Did you..."

"When I get home, lover," she said.


"You okay, Sara?"



"Yes, seriously. I'm kind of sore, but it's tolerable."

"You're thinking about me, I like that."

"I am, all day, all night."

"I like that, too."

"I know."

"Did you..."

"Monday, hon, Monday. You'd rather hear about it when I'm there on top of you, wouldn't you? After I unlock that? Not now."


"You'd rather spend today and tomorrow thinking about what might have happened, than hear now."

"I suppose."

"Yes. Listen, he's getting out of the shower, I have to run, we're going to breakfast."

"K. Love you, Em, seriously, no matter what."

"Me too, hon, love you too."

I got to thinking. Maybe I have the best of everything. I'm still not sure if I like the fantasy or the reality. I don't know if she slept with him last year, but I tend to think not.

Certainly don't know if she did this year, but again, I don't know if I want her to or if I just want to fantasize about it.

I read blogs, stories, women with "fuck buddies." Women who date. Women who don't sleep with their husbands, etc.

I don't want that. Fuck, I love that woman more than anyone ever. She's my best fucking friend in the whole world.

I don't want her to date. How the fuck does that work. I honestly understand the fantasy. I don't get the reality.

Maybe I have the best of everything. She's gone to see him twice, both Memorial Day weekends the last two years. He came to visit once.

Evan really was (is) her good friend, she knew him for years before she met me. They did not date, though I know he chased her, screwed her.

Maybe this is best. A once a year get away for her, a once a year fantasy for me, played upon now and then throughout the year.

I could never handle her dating. Have no idea how men do that, save for fantasy.

This, I can deal with. She's mine. All year. In a way I own her as much as she owns me. She's mine, I'm hers.

He has no claim on her emotions.

They belong to me.

Only me.

At most, he's a fantasy, a fling, something safe.

At most.

At most, he's a fuck, nothing more.

At most.

He may be less. Just a friend she likes to visit now and then, to get wined and dined and catch up and do nothing more than be friends.

I don't know. May not know.

She may fuck him and tell me she doesn't, but tease me that she does.

She may do nothing and tell me she does, to indulge in my fantasies.

Regardless, if she does, it is as "safe" as this can get. He's too far away to have an affair with, she loves me too much to do anything to hurt me.

Fuck, she loves me. A feminine boy, a sissy, a girlfriend, a lover.

She's mine.

I'm hers.

He has no claim on her, even if he fucked her.

Don't know.

I don't know.

She may have.

She may not have.

Either way, the fantasy works for me.

Even in this stupid cage that has kept me aroused for the whole weekend.

Don't expect an update on this tomorrow. I'm hers tomorrow, not you all.

I'll update this week though, just not tomorrow.

All I can think about

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Something and Nothing

Do you need to know? Need to know like I did?

She called me last night, late. I was in bed, sleeping fitfully, little.

I was in bed thinking about her. Tired, trying to let the darkness take me.

I was in bed, a boy, wearing pretty lingerie.

A sissy.

I was in bed, wanting to do only one thing, the one thing I could not do.

I was in bed, wishing I could fantasize about Emily, about him, touch myself, pleasure myself, orgasm, the fantasy.

But I could not. No, she, we, made sure of that.

So I was in bed doing only half, the fantasizing.

The cage was no fun.

Yet it was the most fascinating thing, just the same.

She called after one.

I was awake, waiting, trying to sleep.

"Hello," my voice trembled.

"Hey," she mumbled, lazily.

"'s late," I said, voice catching. Surely this meant....

"Yea," she said.

"You...did you..." The mild discomfort was escalating, horrifying, thrilling.

"You've been thinking about it all night?"


She giggled, teasing me. "I've been thinking about you, Sara, thinking about me."




"I've been thinking about that, too."

"Em...did...did you?"

"No, not tonight."

Not tonight.

"We had dinner, drank some, not too much. I was tired, got ready for bed, said goodnight."

"Oh," I said, shocked at the disappointment in my voice.

"Yea. Sorry I called so late, though, he came in to say goodnight, we got to talking again, we just kind of laid here, talking."

The pressure had been going down, started back, immediately. My hand was on myself, useless, but there, touching, feelingless through the plastic.

" bed."

"Yea," she whispered. "I...I felt guilty, a little. I...I didn't think he'd be coming into my room, I...I'm wearing the white babydoll...I wanted to sleep in it, thinking of you."

"Em," I said, breath coming rapidly.

"Yea, he sounded like that, too. He apologized, said he would see me in the morning. I told him it was okay, he could come tuck me in. Men. It was hard for him to leave once he started looking at me, men are so visual."

"Fuck, Em, fuck."

"Take off your shirt."

"Shirt? I...I'm not wearing a shirt, Em, a cam and tap panty, the lilac one."

"No, no, not you, sweetie. Him. I told him to take off his shirt. To be fair, to make him more comfortable. I told him, if I'm half naked, you might as well be, too."

I sighed, sore, wanting nothing that instant that for her to stop talking and for me to be free so I could just masturbate.

"He's so different than you, Sara. Strong, masculine. You're so much prettier, he's just different. I love you so much, I'm so turned on by you, but..."

"Emily," I whimpered.

"We just talked, Sara, just talked."

"Em..." I was having the most frustrating phone sex ever, unable to do anything, just teased.

"It's really pretty, he told me, he liked baby doll. I knew he would."

"Emily," I groaned, feeling foolish that all I could do was keep repeating her name.

"I love you, Sara."

"Me, too, Em."

"I wanted to touch his chest, Sara, just feel it. I wanted to kiss it, funny, I did not want to kiss him, just his chest."

"Please, Emily," I shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"It's frustrating."

"Yes, I can't touch..."

"No, not that. I mean, I know, you, but frustrating for me. I wanted to, yet did not want to. I wanted...I wanted him to reach up and touch me, fuck, my breast was up against his arm, I wanted him to reach up, touch it, yet, still, I was thinking about you, dreaming about you."

"Emily, can..."

"I know. Listen, I'm tired."


"Sleep well."

"Not likely, Em, not likely."

"Yea, I know. I can't wait to see you Monday."

"Are you going to...tomorrow...are you..."

She chuckled. "We'll see, lover."

I did not sleep well. I woke up at 4, 5:30, and 6:30.

I regret having this thing on me.

But I'm sooooo glad it is. I can't stop thinking, now, especially, picturing her getting dressed to go out tonight, picturing her in her lingerie, next to him, casually touching him. Oh, fuck, I'm sooooo frustrated.

So frustrated.

Friday, May 28, 2010

I can't stop thinking about her

I wore it all day, obviously.

It was tight.

All day.

Because she was all I could think about.

Safe and Sound

"I'm here," her text said. "How's know?"

"Tight," I said, one word.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"I can't, Em."

"Me either."

"Everything okay?"

"No, he's cuter than I remember. Gotta to run, we're going to lunch."

Au Revoir

She left.

I carried her bags to the car, serving her, always.

"I love you, Em."

"I know, Sara, I love you, too."

"Are...are you..." I started to ask.

"I don't know. Do you want me to?"

"I don't know, Em."

"I know."

"You'll call?"

"When I get there, of course."

"Later?" If we are not together, we say goodnight on the phone, every night we're apart, as we are both in bed.

"It may be late."

I looked away.

"We have a lot to catch up on," she said.


"Yes, I'll call you before I go to sleep, I promise."

"He tucks you in. I never forgot you saying that before."

"Sara, I...yes."

" can wear something pretty," I heard myself say, "no matter what you do. I'll think of that."

"Sara," she touched my cheek. "I love you."

The End of the Night

We were about to get into bed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. It's uncomfortable, it doesn't hurt."

"We don't have to."

"No, I want to."

"I want to, too."

"Are you sure, Em?"

"I'm going to be thinking about you all weekend."

"Ha, and I won't be doing the same?"

"I'd never, ever, do anything you didn't want me to do."


"I mean that."

"I know."

"You have no idea how much I love you, Sara."

"I think I know."


"I...I know."

"It's for you."

"I know."

"Kiss me."

I did.

Thursday, May 27, 2010


Well, for some reason it dawned on me, just now, as I'm sitting here reading a book on my iPad, squirming a little, adjusting to the fit of the CB, that wait, if we're testing this out tonight, how am I supposed to, you know, with Emily.

I guess I just kind of assumed that since she was leaving town tomorrow that we'd have kind of an intimate evening tonight.

I asked her, kind of....

"Um, do I have to leave this on all night?"

"Yea, we have to see if it fits okay, why?"

"I just was thinking that we' know."

"Oh, yea. Well, you can go down on me, but I really am not in the mood for anything more, I'm too excited about the weekend."

Yea, too excited about Evan.


Emily packs by outfit.

Okay, you remember what she bought, right? Well the dress got packed first, in a garment bag, of course.

With that, she has a black bra (we made sure it did not show on the back of the dress), black panties, and strappy heels. She also set out a garter belt and both black and nude stockings, under the theory that she was not sure if she was wearing stockings, and if so, what color (it is before memorial day, not after, that she's going out, black still okay, for evening.)

She packed slacks and a top for Friday evening, not sure what she and Evan were doing. She thinks he's cooking her dinner, rather than go out.

"What do you think for lounging around in, Sara," she asked me. "This work?"

In her Friday pile, she packed the chemise as well as a pair of yoga pants and a tee shirt. So, naturally I'll fantasize about her in the chemise, while she just might be wearing something much more modest.

Golf outfit for Saturday. The above dress, of course.

And this, she held up, asking if I thought it was cute:

A product thumbnail of Georgette Babydoll

Um, yea.

Swell, swell, swell.

Okay, time for dinner...


Well, we have a fit, see how it goes this evening, tonight, before final lock down in the morning.

The cage is the CB6000s, which has a smaller cage portion than the regular CB, which is fine, I don't need that much space.

The device came with four rings sizes and four spacer sizes. It seems getting the right combination is critical. Right now I'm in the second spacer (the second smallest.) Tight, but not constricting tight, doesn't feel like it will chafe.

Started with the smallest spacer, went up a size, again, tight, but not too tight.

Okay, we wanted to test, um, swollen.

Here goes...


Email: So, sweetie, how's it feel to be the one locked up when I'm going to be spending the weekend with Evan?

Um, yea, instant swelling.

Wow, again, tight, but, strange, very restrictive, but not painful. Nothing pinching. Oh, and totally fucking bizarre that I can't touch myself!!!!!!!!

Fuck, what am I getting myself into?

Even if she does NOTHING this weekend, I'm going to be THINKING about it all weekend and totally fucking frustrated.

Calm down, Sara, calm down.

My Brain

Top or bottom, I just want to be one of them.

She knows...

...the way to make him want her even more is to deny him the thing he wants the most.


Dominant or Submissive

Someone who is dominant sees this picture and thinks, "I'd love to have such a lovely creature kneeling at my feet."

Someone who is submissive sees this picture and thinks, "I'd love to be that lovely creature kneeling at someone's feet."

I know what I think.

Wonderful moment…

That's what NYLONFOXIE called this. I agree. Watching a woman pull on a stocking. Knowing the EXACT fucking feeling, having done it a zillion times myself.

It's Here

Emily emailed me, her UPS shipment arrived. A few things surprised me.

1. She had it delivered to her office. I just assumed it was going to her house. Thankful for discrete packaging.

2. It isn't pink.

3. It's clear.

4. It isn't the CB-2000

5. It's the CB-6000

I'm disappointed it isn't pink, but grateful it's not the 2000. I can be weird, of course, so I spend the last few days reading a ton about this. Frankly, the 2000 scared me for a few reasons. First, it seemed easier to slip out of. Second, it seemed less comfortable.

The goal is chastity, not discomfort. Teasing, not punishment.

Em is going to test it this evening. We'll size it when we both get to her place, put it on (gulp) and then she's going to pack (she's leaving tomorrow).

I can't wait. I am totally nervous.

Rant Update

Lizabeth gave me a link on her post. Thank's darling :) All is forgiven and all is right in the world now.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Cate-Nylon Face

Yea, it turns me on.

Ellen von Unwerth'ss Revenge, Preface

Ellen von Unwerth's Revenge, Chapter 1

Trust Me

Come back and tell me what you think, um, if you have any energy left when you're done there after seeing things like this:

Cause as for me, wow. Yes, wow.

nylon queen

This has been everywhere, but I still wanted to post it because I fucking love it!

I got it from Andi

Day Dreaming

"David, this has been the most...wonderful day of my life," Aaron, the "bride" said, leaning backwards into the groom's embrace, sharing a quiet moment in the garden, "I wish it did not have to end, I feel a little like Cinderella."

"I'm so glad you could help me out," David said, hugging Aaron with gratitude. "I promised my grandmother that I'd get married before she officially passed title to the company over to me. I know it was stupid to have to lie to her, but what choice did I have, her dementia is getting worse and worse and someone had to step in."

"You could have just, you know, actually found a woman to marry," Aaron laughed, feeling a little dizzy in David's strong, embrace.

"I have not found the right girl, Aaron, and I don't want to be a divorced guy when I do, this was the best think I could think of that would make my grandmother happy, save the company, and save me from a bad marriage."

Aaron thought back to the night with David three months ago, sitting in David's loft apartment overlooking a fashionable downtown neighborhood.


"What the fuck am I supposed to do, Aaron," David asked, sipping his scotch. "It isn't like I'm trying to take the company out from under her, but she hardly knows what is going on anymore, she's losing her mind, slowly, it's killing things."

"So, you're not allowed to take over till you get married," Aaron asked, twirling his glass of Pinot Gris in his hand.


"And you don't want to just find some girl to marry, even to fake it?"

"Hell no. And have her somehow claim that half the fucking company is hers?" David poured a second glass of scotch, sighed.

"I don't know then, buddy."

"Wait, wait, maybe that's it," David said. "I could fake it."

"But you're right, David, what woman would go along with that."

"Fake it, Aaron, that's the point. I wouldn't need a woman to go along with it if my bride wasn't a woman."

"I'm not following you," Aaron took a sip of his wine.

"I need someone I can trust. If I knew a girl like you, maybe I'd risk it, but that isn't happening, not in the time frame I need."


"That's it, Aaron, I don't want a real marriage, that's too risky, financially, so I need to fake it."


"What better way to fake it...what if the bride wasn't a woman?"

"Wait, wait," Aaron said, "you lost me."

"What if the bride wasn't a woman, but instead was a man. Same sex marriage isn't legal in this state, Aaron, if my 'bride' was not a real woman, we could get married, my grandmother would be satisfied, but there would be no legal risk to company ownership."

Aaron thought for a moment, tried to poke a logical hole in David's crazy plan, but could find but two. "Where are you going to find a guy that you could pass off as a woman and wouldn't you still have to trust that guy?"

David did not answer, instead poured Aaron another glass from the bottle, sat back, looked at his friend. "Where am I going to find a guy I can trust that also isn't the most masculine guy in the world?"

"Right," Aaron said, crossing his legs at the knee, reaching for the stem of the wine glass.

Aaron happened to look up at that instant, saw himself, his thin frame, David, more muscular, in the full mirror between the wall to ceiling windows behind the chair David was sitting in. He stared, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

In reaching for his glass, the way his legs were crossed, his dangling foot was pointed downward, toes almost to the floor. He had just touched the stem of the glass, his fingers gently pinching, his manicured nails the closest thing to David.

It struck him, really, for the first time, the contrast between the two college roommates. David, the athlete, strong, masculine, louder, somewhat brash, but not overly so, to Aaron, the dancer and actor in college, happiest on stage, soft, subtle, and almost...feminine.

"David," Aaron gasped, looking at his friend again, seeing the look in his eyes.

"You're the only one I can trust, Aaron," David looked down at his glass of scotch.

"But I," he started to object, on principle, but he had trouble formulating the right words, his mind instead reverting to the more easily explained practical. "There is no way I could pass as a woman."

"Do you know how much money I have, Aaron?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Money buys clothes. Money buys stylists. Money buys make up artists. Money buys all of that. What money doesn't buy is trust, loyalty, friendship. My money can make anyone look pretty, it can't make me trust anyone. I trust you."

It turned out David was right.

Aaron's feelings about the scheme came and went, but his undying loyalty to his friend was unshakable.


"You're really enjoying yourself, Aaron," David asked, making no effort to relax the hug he had on his 'bride.'

"Yes. Whoever says it, is right, a bride feels so special on her wedding day, she never does want it to end."

"It doesn't have to end, Cinderella," he said, his voice confident, leaning forward, towards Aaron's bare shoulder, until his nose was touching her skin, his lips gently resting on her shoulder, parting, then kissing.

"David," Aaron shuddered, meaning to scold him, but her rebuke sounding more like a gentle moan when she turned her face towards him.

"We have the honeymoon suite at the Ritz, Aaron."

She felt him squeeze her just the slightest bit more, just enough that his waist, heretofore several inches away from her, now pressed against her back, one of his strong thighs resting against the back of her leg, right where the garter strap from her corset attached to her white silk stocking.

He kissed her shoulder again, at the same time, his right hand moved from hers to the front of her gown. He touched the satin at her waist, let his fingers gently trail downward, over her hip, her thigh.

"David," she sighed, wanting to pull away, instead, letting her body fall backwards, closer to him, the tingling sensation of his lips on her skin too much to break. "David, I'm not a woman," she tried to reason.

"I know exactly what you are, Erin," he told her gently in her ear, somehow using is voice to make her name sound feminine, no longer masculine.

Erin saw a couple of guests pause at the edge of the garden, watch from a respectful distance, letting the bride and groom share their moment.

"But David..."

"Do you know why I've never found the right woman, Erin? Because I was blind to the fact that she was right there before me."

"David," Erin melted slightly, just slightly, scared at her own desires.

"I love you, Erin," David kissed her neck.

Erin almost collapsed, but he felt it, held her, helped her turn. "I love you, too," she said, turning, letting her lips press forward, finding his, kissing him, surrendering, giving up.

Girl Talk

Cutest Dress Ever

Skirt 'n Heels calls this the cutest dress ever:

I think she may be right. I'm totally in love with the cut of the lower portion, that retro vibe, the flair, the petticoat look. I'm totally in love with the pink corset upper portion. And don't even get me started on the cute heels.

The link to where the dress comes from :(

Her post is here

Kathryna Hancock does Nicole Fox


From: ...etc


"Is this your first time, with a man" he asked.

"Yes," she answered staring at the ground.

"You're nervous," he asked, gently lifting her chin so she had to look him in the eye.

"I...I'm sorry," she whispered, wishing she had more confidence at this very moment.

"Sorry? For being nervous?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I know that must upset you."

"Upset me? Darling, that makes you all that more desirable to me."

"I don't know what to do," she said.

"No, pet, you know exactly what to do. Don't pretend you have not dreamed about, fantasized about this moment for years."

"I..." She felt her face flush, his words touching her, honest, knowing. "Maybe."

He lifted her chin again, gazed at her. "You've been imagining this moment from the first time you realized you were different."

"Yes," she admitted, thinking quickly now, compressed, thoughts she had for years.


"Yes," she swallowed, that one word cutting like a knife, through all her defenses, all her fears, all her hesitations.

"You know exactly what to do." He was unbuttoning his pants, carefully, not letting them fall, but loosening them so he was free.

She stared at it, the thing she fantasized about for years, as he said. Hard. Powerful. Masculine. Involuntarily, she reached for it, let her manicured fingers touch it, grip it, wrap around it. She held it, felt it throbbing, gently, but thickening, the strength. It was all that a man was, everything, there, before her eyes.

Looking at it, she never felt more feminine in her entire life. Never felt her own maleness feel so small, such a little part of her. Looking at it, she realized that though born a boy, she was nothing like him, nothing like a man, never thought that way, never identified herself as so.

He waited, patiently. He knew the thoughts running through her head. It took only a matter of seconds, but he knew that the beautiful creature before him, whatever her genetics, was in that instant, a woman. He knew that she knew.

He watched as she opened her mouth at the same time her eyes fluttered, closed.

He watched as she leaned forward, drawn to it, accepted, wanted, desired.

He gasped as her soft lips touched him, shuddered, his own masculinity as powerful and overwhelming to him as her femininity was to her.

Both born males, he knew as he felt her wet lips touching him, now, forever, he was a man, she was a woman.



He knew.

She knew, too.





She surrendered to her lifeblood, her calling, to herself.

He made her what she was. What she wanted.

"There, there," he pet her hair, holding back, knowing enough to let her pace, trying not to let himself pull her mouth over him.

She surrendered. Worshipped. Woman. Man.

Karol Martins

Bella Bella Boudoir has a 20% off sale. They are using this adorable picture to catch your eye. Consider mine caught.

My garter belt for the day

I have such a busy day today. Wearing this will make it just a tiny bit better, don't you think?

Morning :)

In case you were wondering...

It is pink. 

The tracking number shows it will be delivered tomorrow. 

We will commence Friday morning when she packs. 

I'm nervous. Really nervous. 

It is the most diabolical thing I've ever agreed to. 

I can't stop thinking about it. 

It make me think of him. 

And her.