Saturday, April 24, 2010


Unfortunately, a series of events has made it difficult for me to write in this journal. My father had a rather nasty fall in Edinburgh and was hospitalized. My mother, unused to making decisions on her own without my father’s input felt unable to cope and I had to travel to them to make the necessary arrangements.

I arranged for the rental of a cottage close to the hospital, visited with Father in the hospital, consulted with the doctors about the necessary procedure for his hip and waited with mother until he was discharged. Fortunately, he was discharged into the care of a most efficient and kindly nurse who visited each morning to tend to him and after two weeks, both my parents assured me that all was in order and I should return home. In fact, they like the cottage so much they have decided to stay on in Edinburgh for a few months, and I anticipate a full recovery for Father.

However, this time away from the farm and at a particularly busy time of the year for the business has meant that much of my time since then has been spent catching up and sorting out problems that arose whilst I was not here.I am delighted to say that Patricia has been understanding over this period of time.

It all seems so long ago now, but we had such a wonderful night of love making that evening when she first came to the farm and I felt so tender towards her; I still do. I had expected her to be shy with me but in fact she was comfortable with her body and getting her clothes off was not at all difficult. She is a hungry little thing and that pleased me enormously. Girls so often feel the need to pretend that they are not interested in love making but Patricia had no such need to play games with me and seemed to relish all the attentions I gave her. That is not to say that she initiated anything, of course. She waited for me to direct her but once directed, she moved effortlessly to accommodate my advances.

In fact, after our love making she was lying on the bed with her legs quite apart, blissfully comfortable in the position and I admonished her gently:

“Naughty girl! You are shameless!”

She immediately blushed and closed her legs and I realized instantly that she had taken me seriously and was indeed ashamed. I reminded myself that she was still a young, inexperienced girl and I felt a little sorry for playing with her in this way.

“Oh, darling, I was only joking with you.”

She smiled coyly but remained wary of opening herself up to more criticism. I made a mental note to be a little more circumspect with her in my comments.

As circumstances would have it was almost a month before we saw one another again after that weekend, but we remained in touch by phone and email and it was clear on both sides, I think, that we both wanted to get to know one another better and that this could be the start of something special.

Since then, we have seen one another a few times for dinner dates or to see a movie, but the time away from one another has set us back a bit, I regret to say. Patricia is always polite and understanding of the demands on my time but at the same time, I worry that she seems hurt or unsure of her feelings towards me. Sometimes I fear that she seems to think that I am purposely withdrawing from her. Nothing is further from the truth.

I want to move ahead with Patricia. I am very attracted to her. She is a totally untrained girl but I think she is worth the time and effort I need to put into her. The truth is that I am already very fond of her and I need to get the relationship back on track.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Patricia sleeps over

By the next weekend, my sexual appetite was demanding sustenance. Some might say that my brain was in my dick. It is indeed true to say I no longer cared if I was playing my hand well with Patricia or not, if it meant that I must be even more patient. All I knew with certainty was that I wanted her.

Although my instincts told me that she was hungry herself, her demeanour and her style of dress gave nothing away. So far, she had simply followed my lead showing no signs of assertiveness. Her clothing was modest. I approved of that but I also felt a strong need now to get her undressed and explore her body for myself.

On Friday mid-morning, I left a message on her mobile phone during the day telling her that we would have dinner at the farm and she was welcome to stay over. I would collect her from her house at 5 o’clock, since she did not yet know the way. It was rather audacious and forward of me to not ask her if this was convenient or even wanted and I realized I was taking a risk, but I felt it was worth the risk. In my experience, certain girls look to be directed and for the man to show initiative, and every bone in my body was screaming out to me that Patricia was one of those girls.

Around an hour later I received a reply apologizing for the delay. She had only just received the message. She looked forward to the evening very much, she said, and would pack an overnight bag when she got home. The message sent an electric shock down my spine. I felt like a teenager again, giddy with excitement.

When I arrived at 5, Patricia was in a spin. Although she did not really have the time, she had felt inclined to wash her hair. She was dressed but she had not yet packed and the apartment showed signs of needing some tender loving care.

I did my best to put the soiled dishes in the sink out of my mind but I have to say it really bothered me that there were empty wrappers and an empty juice container on the coffee table in the living room. I had to fight the urge to admonish her for it. There is no excuse for laziness!

She sat me down with the latest issue of ‘TIME’ whilst she ran about the apartment putting things together. Admittedly, I had not given her much time since she arrived home from school but even so, things around here were going to change if I had my way, and I did intend to have my way!

I’m not sure what Patricia was expecting. I had told her little about the farm really – not much more than the fact that I had taken over the farm from my parents. My mother has a wandering soul and convinced my father to move off the land to enable them to travel at their whim. My father had become something of a successful investor in stocks in his later years and I took the opportunity to take over the farm when it was offered to me.

Although my degree is in Engineering, I have always loved the land, and the prospect of developing the business to its full potential was an opportunity I could not pass up. My father had been inclined to do things in an old-fashioned sort of way, but there was definitely room to grow the business substantially.

The driveway to the farm has a tall row of trees planted on either side, all the way from the gate to the farm house and when I drove Patricia down it for the first time that day, she audibly gasped.

“It was my mother’s vision,” I told her. “She planted them two decades ago.”

The farmhouse is not grand by any means but I think it is appealing – painted white with green shutters and the garden is looking good. One of the farm hands has a green thumb and is always keen to put a few hours into the garden. She loved it at first sight. It delighted me to see the smile form on her face and her eyes widen in incredulity.

“Max, it is so beautiful!” she said.

“This is my favourite time of the day,” I told her. "Time for cocktails!”

I gathered her bag and carried it into the kitchen where I found us two glasses and opened a bottle of white wine. I had her follow me to the garden and we sat in the shade in two comfortable garden chairs with a little round table between us.

One of the things I remember clearly is how relaxed Patricia seemed in the rural environment. She plied me with questions and happy to listen to the answers, or so it seemed, she listened quietly. When I heard my stomach growl I led her into the kitchen and found the food that Maria had left for us. I have some culinary skills but I don’t have the time for cooking and my housekeeper, Maria had chopped up all the ingredients for a stir fry. All I needed to do was heat up the pan and cook them in the right order; the meat and onions first, and so on.

But, as I prepared to heat up the wok on the stove, Patricia did something I would never have expected. She put herself between me and the stove and just looked up into my eyes with an expression that spoke volumes. Without thinking, I took her in my arms and kissed her on the lips with all the passion that was running through my veins. She was luscious! Her lips were soft and sensuous. She is a marvellous kisser and I took this opportunity to cup her breast in the palm of my hand and then run my hand around her ass. My God, but she felt good!

Yet, it felt wrong, somehow. As much as I wanted carnal knowledge of the girl, to plunder her and listen to her scream in my ear with intense pleasure, I found that I wanted something else even more. When I was ready, I led her over to the kitchen table and told her to sit and watch while I prepared the meal. I feel sure that I could have thrown her over the table and eaten her for dinner without objection, but the plan that jumped into my head was too enticing to let go.

She liked watching me cook. I think women do really: watch a man cook them a meal. When the food was ready, I excused myself and left the room for a moment. When I returned I walked up and stood behind her.

“Hands behind your back,” I told her.

“Max, what are you doing?” she protested.

“Just do as you are asked,” I told her.

Amazingly, she made no further complaint. She put her hands behind her back and I duly tied them to the back of the wooden seat. I could feel her body start to relax. Her shoulders dropped a little and even her breathing seemed a bit slower. I felt a surge of adrenaline running through my brain. My God, she liked this! How fantastic.

From where she sat Patricia had a good view of me by the stove and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed adding the ingredients and warming the pre-cooked rice whilst she looked on. I did my best to appear to pay her no attention. However, each time I casually glanced her way, I saw the look of incredulity on her face. I got a sense as well that she was revelling in the experience at the same moment as she felt acutely embarrassed. Well, she’d have to get used to that with me and that evening was as good as any other to begin.

I placed the cooked food into one rather large oversized bowl; not two. I could sense Patricia watching and I knew that any moment now she was bound to register her confusion and/or dissatisfaction.

Imagine her surprise then when I placed the bowl in front of me at the table and helped myself!

“Max, are you serious?” she wanted to know.

“My dear, you need only ask nicely...”

She became rather agitated by that comment. She blushed quite vividly and seemed to be determined to remain hungry.

But, after several more bites, when my resolve was clear, she decided to try a different tack. I could almost see her brain working and changing direction.

“Max, it does look delicious. May I have some of the stir fry, pleeeeeese?”

I felt my cock harden. I adore it when a girl asks for something nicely.

“Of course you may, my dear girl!”

The table in the kitchen is narrow enough that I could feed her with ease. Each time I brought the fork to her mouth she opened up, much as a baby bird opens up for its mother’s offerings. It occurred to me that the poor girl was probably starving. She seemed to be anxious for each bite and later I learned that she had only had an apple for lunch and nothing since then. I confess I felt a bit of a bastard when she told me that but even so, feeding her was divinely pleasurable.

After she was satisfied, a new sort of hunger overwhelmed me, as it did Patricia. When I untied her hands and led her upstairs by the hand, she showed no resistance to the unspoken plan.

But, it has been a long day and I will write of what happened next the first opportunity I get.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

A different side of Patricia

Over the next week or so, I kept in touch with Patricia over the telephone. For various reasons owing to our separate commitments, we were unable to see one another again over that time. The conversations were relatively superficial, exchanging pleasantries and sharing a little of our working days. However, one telephone call we had over that time sticks out in my mind as being significant.

Before, when I had rung Patricia or she had rung me, our conversations were somewhat formal. She was polite, reserved and looked to me to lead the conversation. This time, I happened to call her whilst she was doing some reading for her teaching. I suggested she might not want me to interrupt and she was adamant that she was ready for a break as the reading was boring her to tears. She seemed to be talking faster than usual and the reserve in the past was well hidden from view.

“I don’t mind if you interrupt me, Max. A girl rather enjoys distractions of a certain kind...”

“Is that right?” I enquired? “What sort of distractions are you referring to...?”

She was showing a rather playful, cheeky side and I liked it.

“The sort of distraction where a man can show a girl a good time, I suppose...”

“Describe a “good time”.

“Ohhh... well...that could be any number of things really...

I played along for a few more light hearted exchanges and got the distinct impression that she would have liked me to make more of a move; to ratchet things up a notch. I felt tingly at the prospect of all the fun I could have getting to know Patricia’s mind. One of the loveliest things of getting to know a new girl is that when you have established an environment of trust and safety, a girl will tell you everything. If a man gets lucky he finds that a girl has the most lewd of fantasies; that her wants are vast and her imagination vivid.

I think it was this thought and this moment that really had me commit to Patricia and an ongoing relationship with her. I like a girl with a good mind but a girl with a dirty mind is gold.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Setting the tone

I arrived at the address Patricia gave me right on time. Although Patricia and I barely knew one another at that point, I already knew I wanted to taste more of her. I like a girl to adapt; to do things how I like them done. In order to have Patricia cognisant of time and punctuality I needed to set an example for her. A man doesn’t need to bark orders at a girl to have what he wants. He can influence her in subtle ways, too.

In fact, Patricia did not open the door to the little house but rather a girl about her age. She was a very friendly sort of girl. “You must be Max!” she said, and led me inside. “Patricia will be with you in a moment.”

Moments later, Patricia arrived from her bedroom and welcomed me; introduced me to Susan. Patricia told me that she and Susan were sharing the little house along with another girl who was currently on holiday in New York. It helped them to make ends meet, she said, since they were both fresh out of college in their first jobs. This made perfect sense, of course and it was pleasing to see that the two girls seemed to be house proud. It was a humble home but not without appeal and I noticed the roses in the vase on the side table. I am very partial to fresh flowers in a home.

We were soon on our way to the restaurant where I had made a reservation for us. I ordered us both the nicoise salad and a glass of white wine. I think that Patricia was rather surprised when I did not ask her what she would like to eat, but she needed to get used to that right away, I decided. She is a most attractive girl but I felt that she would be even lovelier once she had lost a few pounds. I wanted to see a bit more definition at her waist line but that was a longer term project; far too early to introduce her to a corset! I did, however, already have in mind to supervise her food choices somewhat.

Over the salad, she asked about me. I had told her at the dinner party that I had taken over the family farm but she asked more about that. I answered her in general terms. In fact, the farm is a rather big enterprise and I have a number of people working for me. There have been lean times along the way for my family, but it is a successful operation now and quite lucrative.

I enquired of her first job and learned that she was an English teacher at the high school; her first assignment since she had left college. It made sense. Patricia is a well spoken girl with a good vocabulary. She enjoyed the work very much she said and the interaction with the students, but felt very unsure of herself when it came to ‘discipline’. She suspected that she was much too easy with them and apparently her supervisor felt the same way, encouraging her to toughen up her approach. I made a mental note to see what I could do for her in this area. It was clearly bothering her.

We both enjoyed the movie, though at this point I honestly cannot remember what we saw. As we left the movie theatre I put my arm around her to direct her through the crowd and once we were out of the theatre I took her hand in mine.

When I drove her home she asked if I would like to come in for coffee but I reminded her that it was a Sunday evening and time for her to get to bed for the week ahead.

“Yes, I suppose I should...”

“Off to bed with you!” I replied.

It was at this moment that I first saw the feisty, rebellious side of Patricia. Out of nowhere, she riled.

“I am not a child, Max!” she said, with a tone of defiance.

“No, but you are a young working woman who needs a good night’s sleep,” I said, calmly.

This seemed to settle her somewhat and she simply said, “Yes”.

“Good night, Patricia.”

I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. That was enough for now.

“Good night, Max,” she responded.

I had the sense that things were going well.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Patiently waiting

I am willing to share that I have had a number of failed relationships with women in my life. It all begins well enough but over time they begin to lose interest in me, considering me too “demanding”. I’ve learned one thing about women and that is that it pays to have them make the first step. I suppose it could be said that Patricia made the first step already. She did approach me at the party. I would have loved to call her over the next week or two. God knows I began to dial her number enough times! But, something inside me told me that I needed to wait. I needed to wait for her.

As the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if there was a mutual attraction or if it was just in my imagination. Patricia made no effort to contact me whatsoever in spite of the fact that she was not attached to anyone. Dean told me that. At the end of the month I received an invitation to dinner; a friend of Dean who was also at his engagement party. There was no need to bring a girl, he suggested. Dianne, his wife, had sorted out the guest list and had the right numbers for the table now. In any case, Dean and his fiancĂ© Judy would be there. I secretly hoped that I wouldn’t be seated next to some girl who was going to talk my ear off.

I arrived on time. I like to run to time. Dianne and Bill made me feel very welcome. The other couple was nice enough and it is always good to share time with Dean. Around twenty minutes later, as we were sharing a second cocktail awaiting the missing person, the doorbell rang and soon thereafter Dianne and Patricia entered the room chatting away merrily. It turns out they were old school friends who still kept in close touch. It was a delightful surprise. I rather hoped that the evening had been set up this way in order to meet me again. We’ll never know. Women are as thick as thieves. But, as it turns out Patricia was seated next to me throughout the dinner so I think it is a fair assumption it was not just coincidence.

I was polite, of course but not overly effusive. We chatted away pleasantly. Privately, I revelled in her company. I just didn't want to appear too keen. Patricia is not a loud girl. She doesn’t need to be the centre of attention. Yet, she does have opinions and she was not afraid to share some of them with her dinner guests. I must say she was an excellent listener. She is the sort of girl that whomever she is speaking to, she gives them her full attention. I like that in a girl. She seemed quietly confident of herself at the same time as I detected some vulnerability. When she took the wine glass to her mouth one time, her top lip quivered; as if she had just lost her inner confidence for a moment; as if it were just a veneer.

When we were saying our goodbyes, all of us, I walked out with Patricia and saw her to her car. I was sorely tempted to hand her my card. I almost did but held back at the last moment. Patience... patience.

“Max, I was thinking of seeing a movie this weekend – perhaps Sunday evening. Would you care to join me?” she asked rather shyly just before she turned to get into the car.

“That’s a nice idea,” I said; I hope not too enthusiastically. “It has been a while since I have seen a movie.”

She smiled. She seemed pleased.

“I could meet you there...” she began.

“No! I will pick you up at your home. Write me down the address.”

She found a pen and paper in her bag and wrote down the details.

“Thank you. Is it an 8.00 showing?” I asked.


“Good. I will collect you at 6.30. We’ll have a drink and a light meal first. Don’t be late this time, Patricia. I don’t approve of girls who are not punctual.”

She looked at me a bit aghast. I don’t think anyone had talked to her like that before, given the expression on her face. But, she regained her balance and replied,

“I will be ready, Max.”

And, so she was.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Meeting Patricia

Whilst I am inclined to introspection, my behaviour at a party has been known to be raucous. I enjoy telling a tale and have been known to stretch the truth in an effort to amuse those listening. On the night I met Patricia I was in good form and was surrounded by a captivated audience finding mirth in my reverie. As it happened, a waiter carrying a jug of iced water made contact with my outstretched arms whilst I was in the process of making my point. The cold water spilled upon the two women who were standing closest to me at which point the looks they gave me indicated clearly what a clumsy oaf they thought me to be. Undeterred, I apologized for the incident, sent them in the direction of the bathroom for some towels and continued with my tale.

Later in the evening as I helped myself to the dessert buffet, Patricia approached me and said she had enjoyed listening to my story. Frankly, I had not noticed her before this moment but now that I was looking at her, I found myself captivated by her rather mischievous smile.

“Those girls were not happy with you,” she said.

“They’ll live,” I responded.

I saw Dean, a good friend approaching us.

“Max, I see that you have already met Patricia. Patricia West; Max Parker.”
We both smiled as people do when they have already met and are introduced formally.

“Patricia has just come back from London...”

“Have you?” I asked. “My mother is from London and I’ve spent quite a bit of time there. My last years of study at school were in England.”

“That explains your lovely accent,” she said.

I was beginning to warm to her with every passing moment.

“And, I love the U.K.,” she added.

I smiled and put a small slice of the lemon cheesecake on a plate beside a handful of strawberries and handed it to her.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t!

“I want it all eaten up,” I replied.

I saw a look of pleasant surprise come over the girl. She seemed to enjoy the command.

“Thank you,” she said.

Need I even add that I had secured her telephone number from Dean before I left that party?

Monday, January 18, 2010

The Beginning

It is my good fortune to have met Patricia a few months ago at the engagement party of a mutual friend. I was introduced to her by my friend, Dean, who knew that my mother was English. Patricia, as it turns out had spent the summer in London and travelling around Scotland, and he thought we might enjoy one another’s company.

I cannot honestly say that I would have picked her out of the crowd. Patricia is pretty all right, with a lovely smile and dark brown eyes that a man could get lost in, but she was not overtly sexually dressed. Rather, she had a ‘wholesomeness’ about her; as if she belonged to a bygone era. There was no way of knowing, to my eye then anyway, that she hungered for control; lived to be swept up into a man’s arms and instructed; corrected.

I’ve always thought of myself as a man who can take charge of a situation but the relationships before Patricia were difficult because I think I wanted things too much my way. My mother never complained about being told what to do by my father; at least not in my presence. I think I may have assumed too much. Women found my needs a bit overwhelming. Later, perhaps I was less demanding, but unsatisfied. I approached my thirtieth birthday unsure of how to manage the modern young woman.

When I met Patricia and she began to so naturally respond to my control over her, I found myself fast falling in love with her. I so very much wanted it to be right between us. She relied on me.

I have an amazingly close and open relationship with my father and one evening, I confided in him that Patricia, whom he adores, hungered for my control. He had noticed that already he said; the look in her eyes when I gave her an instruction apparently; the way she responded to it so effortlessly. He told me that Walter, his best friend could help me find my way as Patricia’s dominant. Walter, he said, had been with many, many women, all of whom had been submissive to him. It was Walter who suggested this blog as a way to discuss my training as a dominant man. I want to make Patricia blissfully happy. She is an exceptional woman. I am sure you will agree.

Dominance and submission

Dominance and submission (also known as D&s, Ds or D/s) is a set of behaviors, customs and rituals involving the giving by one individual to another individual of dominance over them in an erotic episode or as a lifestyle arrangement.

Physical contact is not a necessity, and it can even be conducted anonymously over the telephone, email or other messaging system. In other cases, it can be intensely physical, sometimes traversing into sadomasochism. In D/s, both parties take pleasure or erotic enjoyment from either dominating or being dominated. Those who take the superior position are called dominants, doms (male) or dommes (female), while those who take the subordinate position are called submissives or subs (male or female). A switch is an individual who plays in either role. Two switches together may negotiate and exchange roles several times in a session. "Dominatrix" is a term usually reserved for a female professional dominant who dominates others for pay.


Dominance and submission, and the inner conflict and surrender connected with these are enduring themes in human culture and civilization. In human sexuality this has broadened to include mutual exploration of roles, emotions and activities which would be difficult or impossible to do without a willing partner taking an opposing role.

While D/s can deal with representations of brutality and cruelty, and the emotional responses to them, adherents are quick to point out that D/s is not about acts of brutality and cruelty. It is a consensual power exchange between the two partners and need not involve any brutality (such as corporal punishment) or cruelty (verbal or emotional abuse) at all. It is primarily based upon trust and communication between the partners. It is also based on a deep ethos of mutual respect in which exploration of the emotions brought up by power exchange can occur in a safe, sane and consensual manner.

A safe word is usually given to the submissive partner to prevent the dominant from overstepping physical and emotional boundaries. The safe word is especially important when engaging in verbal humiliation or playing 'mind-games' because the submissive may not be aware of an emotional boundary until it is crossed. If an emotional boundary is breached and the safe word called, the dominant should cease all play immediately and discuss the emotional breach with the submissive in a tender and understanding manner. Negotiating limits in advance is also an important element in a D/s relationship.

D/s may be ritualised or freeform. It is usually a negotiated lifestyle, with people discussing their wishes, limits and needs in order to find commonality. A D/s relationship may be sexual or non-sexual, long or short term, and intimate or anonymous. Most adherents search for the essential intensity, trust and intimacy that are required to make any deep relationship possible.