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Friday, March 23, 2018

Within or Without You

We were talking, about the space between us all
And the people, who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion 
Never glimpse the truth, then it's far too late when they pass away
There are moments of quiet, when Master is away traveling for business that mouse will find herself pondering how different her life was before him. The loneliness that would creep in, the pretending that all was fine in her life when everything was helter skelter. The simplest truth was, mouse always did a terrible job of managing her life. Sure, there were a few good decisions she made, but as Master is fond of pointing out, even a broken clock is right a couple times a day. 

Instead of focusing on how different or even better her life might have been had she gone to Master when her owner passed away, mouse often considers the time that she wasn't a slave. The time that she tried to be "normal" or "vanilla" and how terrible that really was. Sure there were a few dates, but with men that couldn't fathom slapping a woman, even if she asked him to. The endless, "where do you want to eat?" talk. Sure sometimes mouse had a suggestion but most often she had no idea, because she needed and wanted the man to step up. To say, "I thought we'd go to this place." or that. To show that he knew how to take control. Sure we might have good conversations but the sex was boring and without excitement.  

When Omega wandered back into mouse's life she wasn't hopeful that she'd ever find man. The thought of him was of interest but it was the past that mouse had walked away from. There was no reason we couldn't be "friends" since we did know each other very well, it might be nice to have someone to talk to who totally understands. We went out, and as mouse recalls he insisted that he pick her up at her home. He petted the dog, who obviously approved, well it wasn't a stretch, the old man dog approved of anyone (except for the guys who cut the grass).  He asked if mouse was ready, peered into the family room and commented that it would be dark by the time she got home, "might want to turn a light or two on." He made sure the porch light was switched on, asked if the dog needed to be let out before we left. No guy mouse lightly dated was so observant and thoughtful. 

When he led mouse to his car and opened the door from her, she recalled that she blushed. This was what was missing. Silently he wove his way out of the suburbs and into the city, paralleled parked like a true master and again opened the car door for mouse, helping her from the car. Inside the restaurant, a place mouse had never been but heard good things about, she picked up the menu after the hostess seated us. His eyebrow went up, but said nothing. 

When the waitress showed up to ask if wanted to order drinks or needed more time, he put the menu down and said with some confidence that he'd have the steak rare, and the lady would have roasted chicken. He punished her for touching the menu! Not in that I'm-going-punish-you-that- way but in that the "lady will have chicken" in a steak house way. Instantly mouse's head went down and while she wasn't sure how she felt, she didn't say anything aside from a brief smile and a nod.  

We eased into a conversation, although mouse can't recall what it was about. The weather, the place, music, work, but all the while mouse was stuck between being in awe of him and terrified. It occurred to mouse, far too late, that each man she had dated had failed because they weren't him. He had the confidence they had lacked. He knew how to be in control and make it look natural. 

He also knew mouse intimately. Maybe that's why he ordered the way he had. Testing the waters, to see if mouse was still mouse, or grew into something different. A woman that would argue, and insist that she is capable of ordering what she wanted. Oddly, when she dated those fellows she had no problem talking for herself, but with him she became mouse. Secretly grateful for it too and just as much as she was grateful, it terrified her. 

After the meal that lasted a long time. He paid the bill and we left, again controlling mouse's steps with his hand on the small of her back. He opened his car door for her again, closed it. He walked around slipping behind the wheel and began to drive. In the driveway, he thanked mouse for a nice evening and then got out, opened her door, asked for her key and opened the front door. The dog was waiting, tail thumping wildly. He seemed impressed the dog refused to cross the threshold of the house. Only later did he learn the poor neurotic beast was afraid of leaving anywhere without a leash on his collar, for fear he'd become lost. It was a feeling that mouse could relate to in some strange way. 

Even if she wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet.

This puzzle that took years to sort out was falling into place, painfully slow but in retrospect it really moved along quickly. Sure if mouse had the benefit of seeing into the future she probably would have dropped to knees then and there. Later that evening, the dog laying at the foot of her bed, mouse thought about him. Every man she casually dated was in a weird way compared to Omega and each had failed because they weren't Him. Sure there was on semi "kinky" fellow but really does a slave think the idea of training a Dom how to be dominant a viable option? Make that "ex-slave" and the answer was a quick no. It was perplexing for her. Did she want to be a slave? Is it even possible? Not hearing from Omega for several days did little to quell these feelings. When she saw him at work, he said little and just when she convinced herself that he wasn't interested he'd call and ask her out. All the future times, mouse didn't once pick up a menu. Sure sometimes she'd drop hints that he would pick up or not.

The first time we had sex, there wasn't any kinky stuff, although he considered it, but he was probably as uncertain as mouse was at that time. We settled into a "friends with benefits" dynamic. Sex between us was always good, even years ago, and mouse felt we had a connection when we coupled. To this day mouse doesn't know if Omega felt that way. Sure he liked mouse but he wasn't sure at that time what he wanted either. He'd been out of the game for a while, shifting focus back to family and of course his career.

When he asked mouse if she would consider a Master slave arrangement with him, suddenly everything changed. He never said he loved mouse, but everyone around us knew we were both "feeling that way." Still it would be months before he'd actually say it, and at that time, mouse knew he really meant it. He's not afraid of the "l" word, but finds it unnecessary. Love, he believes is demonstrated and not said. He doesn't place conditions on it, or play games with it. It's there or it isn't.

Still he insisted that mouse take her time to decide what she wanted. Now, it should be admitted that mouse felt he was just being lazy -- because mouse was already a "trained" slave. Even today mouse rolls her eyes at that level of ego she expressed. Little did she understand that he was already high atop a mountain and mouse was miles and miles away from him and it would take her years to get where he was.

This brings mouse to wondering why he put up with her shenanigans? Did he see something in her that she didn't know or understand was there? He told her from the beginning he would have other women in his life that was not negotiable. He said she could accept it or not. He should have known that mouse would take an unsaid third option to simply ignore it and pretend that it didn't happen. Of course mouse was needy in those days and took so much of his energy that he didn't have much time fo anyone else. The issues she had became His issues. We were also starting a family, melding an already existing one so he didn't seem to mind much about that limit.

Did she become needy on purpose? Not really, but there were times where she knew she blew it up to be bigger than it was. It was more as though as much as mouse needed, deeply desired and even begged for more restrictions, less autonomy, the more it left her feeling confused and often irritated at the restrictions she already had. Pleasing Master was the balm.

Monday, March 19, 2018

Caged on a Shelf

Often mouse has spoken about the metaphorical "rattle of chains" as moments where she feels her slavery to Master completely as the object (as opposed to being a person with free will). Recently was reminded of the cage in our former home's basement and how mouse loved that. It was probably the first time mouse felt the charms of being without choice or options. From the moment Master closed the door to the cage, mouse was at his mercy. It was intoxicating to feel so helpless so out of control and yet under Master's control.

The caged bird ideal is something mouse has toyed with in the past. There are probably many posts where mouse has expressed a love for feeling contained or even confined and even expressed confusion about having those feelings. It's no mistake the past few years mouse has seen some profound changes in the world around her, but maybe just as important in herself. There's been this burgeoning understanding that has been slow to acknowledge. Changes subtle at first, have cumulated in a very different slave, standing or maybe kneeling miles from where she began.

Forgiving the former Owner, seeing even the bit of wisdom he did give that really started her on the journey was freeing to mouse. Was there abuse? Yes, advantages were taken, basic care was ignored, especially toward the end. However, the part mouse will never know was how much of that was him or his illness that at the time, he didn't know he had? It is a question that has flummoxed mouse, so much that she eventually had to let it go. Carrying that particular baggage around was too great and in many ways negated the good he had done. Master helped mouse to see it and dispose of it once and for all and that allowed herself to forgive was powerful and possibly her last act as his former slave. Letting go of her own ego, to see that Master having more than one woman in his life isn't scary too was a hard lesson for mouse to learn. That was the main sticking point that prevented mouse from going to Master after the former Owner passed away. Realizing that at that moment mouse stopped being a slave was another huge shift in thought. It was also what was preventing mouse from accepting many things about herself and letting those things go. Accepting that while she probably is important to Master Omega, she orbits around him and not the other way around. His needs, desires and wants are fulfilled by mouse and what mouse gets is the feeling of containment in return. In other words, mouse gets what she needs not by anything Master does for her, but solely by what she does for Him. That feeling of warmth knowing that He's happy or content is her reward that she gobbles up without any hesitation. Even when she's waiting for days or months to feel useful to him is the lesson for her to understand that when he wants her again, she will be ready.

There is no more regret that mouse was a slow in coming to that acceptance part. There were stages of grief, strangely or not, for mouse to work through not unlike the common ones most are aware of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  Denial probably was the first with some anger thrown in, "how could i want to be treated like i'm unimportant?" or "being a slave doesn't mean doormat." When actually there's nothing wrong to being a doormat, as even a doormat has a purpose  and is useful. Bargaining with even Master at times, but mostly herself by trying to direct her own slavery and eventually becoming depressed when it failed. Surrendering small portions of herself to Master, in an effort to retain a often false appearance of self-control. Thank goodness for her, Master is a patient man, because any other man might have just sent mouse packing long ago and then she would never have learned anything. He certainly would have been painted as a villain in her tale and she would have become one of those people who would scream from a rooftop (in an authoritative tone) that "real slavery is an impossibility."

Since there's little point in rehashing the past or dredging up all the times that mouse got it completely wrong, the only real question is left to determine, what do we do with this journal? Should mouse continue to update it? Should we close it? Should we redact large parts of it, and essentially try to rewrite the personal history? If this were a paper or bound journal, would mouse want to throw it away or simply just tuck it away?

Master believes strongly in preserving the past, but also believes the past should stay where it is and separate from the slave mouse has evolved to become. He acknowledges that this journal does reflect, quite accurately, the evolutionary process mouse has gone through, while still remaining mindful that a person who stumbles across this, starting from the beginning might gain the wrong impression of what the core values are today. Maybe all we can offer for now is, stay tuned.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

It's Been Such a Long Time

This has been in the draft folder since New Years, in fact moues has changed the title several times. Things are good, but different. We are much more Master and slave than probably ever before. How many times has mouse written those words? Probably close to a hundred times. Each time, she's meant them too, because it feels that every time she feels that she can't feel more submissive or vulnerable Master requires that she do just that. You have to dig deep, capitulate time and again and just when you think, "we're here -- we are at the destination," you realize it's just another stop or step in the journey.

The lake isn't needed anymore for mouse to focus on Master, to get that unplugged feeling. Sure the lake is still wonderful and lovely to visit -- we are looking forward to our time over there. The feelings that she was once only had at the lake are now present all the time. Master reinforces her status in the great scheme of things. He values the parts of her that he can see so clearly. He has given her much more than he has taken from her. Something she wishes more people understood.

February was a good month for mouse, not a single punishment was required for the entire month. That's got to be a record. Master was watching too very carefully. Last night, Master called mouse to him, which was a bit unusual. He asked for her to fetch him some tea. So mouse padded off to the kitchen, found the good tea service, and using the good tea had everything laid out including a couple warm cookies. After bringing the tray to him, he lingered a moment and said that she had pleased him. Sure, the cookies were totally unnecessary but a wonderful touch. His sincerity touched mouse  so that she began to weep. He, as he sipped his tea, told mouse to undress. He looked at the fading marks from a little more than a week earlier, when he whipped her solely for his pleasure. He unzipped his trousers and had mouse suck him. He remarked kindly on her technique. His hand gripping her hair, controlling her pace until the warm ribbons of seed were forced deep into her throat. Slipping to the floor mouse thanked him, and kissed his slippered feet. There was true joy in her heart at that moment. He has shaped her into a vessel that he can fill up anyway he chooses to.

He marked her body again for his pleasure, to see her body contort and eyes well with tears. He had positioned a mirror so again she could only see her own reflection, the cries and tears that fell. The pain he inflicted for his own pleasure triggered something deep within mouse that she was useful. This was for this moment, the moments before and the moments yet to come, her purpose. To be only what he needs -- the empty vessel being filled. The tears she spilled weren't entirely because of the pain, it occurred to her after. While she was finally quiet, the aches turning numb, the fire subsiding that he remarked about how pleased he has been the last month -- well not just the last month but really the last several months. He did caution that mouse shouldn't rest on her laurels, but continue as she's been doing, again a grateful and obliging mouse kissed his slippered feet and thanked him.

Monday, November 20, 2017

Use me Any Time You Want

It's time in time with your time

The meditating seems to help. In fact, it helps in many aspects of mouse's life. There's been this mindfulness that previously could really only be achieved at the lake, due to being forced to unplug from everything. Now more often that not, while mouse carries her cellphone with her at all times, she's not so connected to anything else. No more spending hours answering emails or making notes on blog ideas. If an idea does strike her and seems to stick in that meandering way, where it flits in and out of her consciousness then, it will be written about.

This morning, feeling quite contemplative, mouse considered the idea of time and almost surprisingly how important it is to her. An example, if mouse isn't in the kitchen making coffee at precisely six, she feels the whole rhythm of the morning is thrown off. The coffee she poured for Master might too warm or sat for too long and cooled. Breakfast too, is meticulously timed out, if mouse begins it too early it'll be cold by the time the children come down, and if she's running behind, they'll be forced to scarf it down before they have to leave. Master calls it "organized chaos".

Driving too, if mouse isn't on the main road by a specific time, she'll hit every red light on the way to school and those lights are all long. If you miss one, then you'll miss each of them (although mouse will try to speed up to break that chain) and it never fails there is more waiting in the drop-off line at the school. The same was true even at the lake. The clock ticks and tocks in a rhythm of its own and mouse follows that.

The meditation is where everything stops, the thoughts might drift in and when mouse realizes that moment that she has drifted, she lets it go. The shopping list, the ironing, or whatever is rambling through at the moment, are embraced and released. Existing in the peripherals of life, waiting often patiently to be useful. Busyness or holiday madness has overtaken our normally peaceful home and Master has been more harried than usual for the time of year with work.

One evening, Master sent mouse to bed at very reasonable time, and continued to work in his study during a storm. Upstairs inside the third floor space, mouse felt the house shake like a small quake with each gust of wind. Trees bowed and stretched, scraping their branches without mercy against the wall behind where we sleep. Downstairs in the foyer, the clock chimed eleven times. Then again an hour later with twelve. Under the blankets mouse tried to listen to for the familiar sounds of letting the dog out, bolting the door after the dog returns, switching off of lights and the gentle footfalls of Master coming up the stairs. Another hour passed before she heard any of those sounds as though she was finally letting go of the stress, mouse immediately fell asleep before Master reached the bedroom threshold.

Aside from holding mouse accountable for her failings during our weekly meetings, and Master's morning oral service there hasn't been a lot of us coming together. It is different than last year, which just felt endless. It will cease be so busy and yet time will continue to march on. As a child mouse often regarded time differently with a year passing felt like forever. If someone said to her, "maybe next year," you may as well say a hundred years. As she grew older, the years didn't feel so incredibly long and eventually felt like year. There were the occasional "long" years, where time felt stretched out -- but really it still felt like a year. Now, as she gets older, the years seem far shorter. The hope of the new year fades quickly where mouse feels like she blinks and months have already passed. The seasons change and mouse will sometimes dwell on the numbers. How many articles of clothing were laundered and ironed or how many bottles of furniture polish, toilet bowl cleaner, bottles of hand soap used in the kitchen. How many of things?

Is that what a year is? Or is it measured in laughter and tears? Swats on the bottom? How many times in a year do the words, "forgive me Master," fall from her lips? How would they compare to the number of times she professes her love in an equally serious way? Of course she would hope that if there was an accounting of those times, the expressions of love, would come out way ahead. If she's painfully honest with herself she'd look at that with some great skepticism. The only thing mouse is certain about is that the number of times she's said "thank you" to him, outweighs all of the other things she might say.

If she had a word cloud for every word uttered by her, what would be the biggest word or phrase be?

Who is she kidding, it wouldn't be thank you, or proclamation of love, or begging mercy and forgiveness...Nope, it would probably FUCK (in all flavors, you, off, it), Shit, Dammit, bitch, , with all those other words and common phrases surrounding those far larger words.

Maybe that is what really need to change? 

Monday, November 6, 2017

England Swings like a Pendulum Do

Inside our home, in the main foyer stands a clock, the old fashioned type with a pendulum. Every so often it requires winding, a task that whoever notices generally performs. The clock is quite forgiving that way, even our youngest can do it. However, when the time changes it must be adjusted. Master is a stickler for clocks always displaying the correct time. This weekend on Saturday night we found ourselves alone in the house. A rare occurrence to be sure and one not to be wasted by Master who spent several hours for his amusement and delight keeping his slave quiet and bound. 

Just before drifting off to sleep, Master remarked that in the morning mouse would need to adjust the clock time (since the time change would be occurring as we slept). The clock, while having ease in how its wound, is rather finicky when it comes to adjusting the time. It chimes every 15 minutes and you cannot adjust it just before or after it chimes. 

In the morning, we woke, mouse performed her oral service to Master, and then began the shower. downstairs mouse heard the clock chime 8 times and made the mental note that it needed to be changed since the actual time was seven am. At fifteen to eight, we came downstairs and passed the clock, as it had just chimed the time wasn't right to change it. Then mouse entered the kitchen and began her morning tasks of cooking Master some breakfast, making coffee and changing the table linens, beginning the weekly preparations for lunches and dinner. 

Master was seated at the kitchen table, watching casually mouse go about her cooking routine, when he heard the clock chime nine times, and had a thought. 

"I thought I instructed you to change the clock?" 

In an awkward way mouse reminded him that she can't just be changed just before after it chimes. Of course he knows this, since he instructed mouse on the clock care, by this time she was serving him his omelette and handed him the hot sauce.  

Several minutes later, the clock chimed again as mouse was busy and secretly cursed under her breath. The longer half-hour chime, and again, mouse missed it. Short of standing there and staring at the clock mouse kept missing the time. His meal finished, and he complemented mouse on the quality of his eggs and noted that just the right amount of cream was in his coffee. It was at that moment, however the clock chimed again the incorrect time, loudly almost bellowing that it was 11am when it was only 10.

"Over my knee mouse." Master tapped his lap with his hand.

Looking at him like he was a bit nuts, mouse hesitated for a moment. and then lifted her dress. Maybe this was why he had laid out panties earlier for her to wear, because he seemed to enjoy pulling them down. Then he struck her bottom a right then left cheek alternating eight times, then paused, and gave one slap in the middle, then a few more slaps in the middle and another single one. It didn't take long for mouse to realize that he was punishing her for each incorrect chime. Then continued with the right and left, again 9 more times, followed by the pause.

By the time he reached the ten o'clock mouse was in tears and then again with the final eleven mouse was whimpering. When he told her to get up, he stood and held her for a minute as she rubbed her flaming bottom.  Feeling rather disgruntled mouse pointed out that is was unfair to be punished for the fifteen, half and three-quarter hour chimes since the clock will do those anyway regardless of the time of day.

Master arched his eyebrow at his slave, "Those were for each opportunity missed." Then he slapped her face, not terribly hard for displaying insolence toward him. "Perhaps you could simply stop the clock for an hour and set a timer, perhaps on your cellphone to remind you to restart it and just perhaps you will avoid further abuse to your already smarting bottom?"

Standing before him, mouse opened her mouth, as if to say 'oh,' but without sound as the thought sunk in. He was offering a rare solution to her pendulum dilemma and without much haste, mouse went to the grand clock, saw the timing was perfect, and stopped the swinging pendulum. Then found her phone and set the timer to remind her when to restart the clock.

As she was sliding the left-over challah turned bread pudding for dessert into the oven, the timer went off and mouse rushed to restart the clock. By this time Master was in his study working, as she could hear the click-clack of his fingers flying against the keyboard of his computer; mouse nearly unconsciously, rubbed her bottom before returning to the kitchen. An hour later the clock chimed the correct number of times  

Monday, October 30, 2017

With Doubt the Vicious Cycle

There's been a significant shift in mouse's thinking of late. In many ways she worries about these thoughts, and what others might think if she dares to say them out loud. While we exist nicely in our Master slave existence it has occurred to mouse some time ago that she's not really His slave, she's more like His property.  Master owns mouse. There's nothing wrong with saying it. 

Too many people today have their own ideas about what "slavery" is or isn't. TV and movies haven't helped with that perception, in fact it's probably coming more from them than the people actually living in it. Master will refer to mouse as his slave. That's how it should be. There are people who insist that type of dynamic is impossible to maintain 24/7 and almost seem gleeful when they hear of failures. Yet, when you consider the vanilla divorce rate is around 50% after 5-7 years of marriage, it doesn't seem to be outlandish that many Owner/property or Master/slave dynamics would also fail. It's just the reasons might be slightly different and mouse will not speculate on the whys.

There's this romantic idea too, like maybe saying the word, "slave" sounds sexier? Calling a man Master doesn't make him Dominant. Maybe the term slave shouldn't be thrown around so haphazardly? Does mouse really believe she's chattel? Yes, she does. Never before did she understand that though. Even on these pages mouse was guilty of saying that "being a slave doesn't mean a doormat." Yet, even then as she wrote that, she knew deep down that it wasn't true and that she wasn't being honest with herself. Instead she was trying to validate the confusion she was feeling about her role (summing it up wrong in the end) and the way other people usually, resulting to hyperbolic speech, imply that to mean.

We've all seen this shaming that goes on,"You can't be a slave! What if your "master" wants to sell you? What if he wants to cut off your arm? Or do you harm? What if something happens to him and you incapable of taking care of yourself anymore? You're just fine with that?" Said with a sarcastic tone, usually by a submissive woman, who cannot fathom why another woman would demean herself by being 'owned' by another person. Or of course, the other type of slave, who will assert with some authority that "my Master wants me to be highly opinionated because he values an assertive slave," What they're really saying is that their Master's idea of slavery completely aligns always with their own idea of what slavery is. May the gods have mercy on anyone who challenges her on that highly regarded opinion.

Owners don't have to make their property feel better about being property.

Yet, what mouse did mean with the "slavery doesn't mean doormat" remark, was that she still has her own ideas, her own voice and her own way of seeing things that is different from Master's way. It doesn't mean she doesn't get to bring ideas to the table or have a vote or say in what happens, but it does mean that He gets to decide if her vote or say counts. Master always gets the final decision and honestly mouse likes it that way. While mouse is completely dependent on Master, she's not going to forget how to pick out her own clothing if something should happen to him. If he does wish to wipe his shoes on her back as he would on the doormat so be it.

Even with the unpopular decisions he's made, like having a "pet" that he sees -- it took mouse forever to understand that this what His idea of slavery is and it doesn't mean that she's failed Him in any way or that she's not enough for Him. Now mouse understands it and accepts it and had she been humble enough to see that simple truth decades ago, she might have made a different choice, since a huge excuse mouse had before was that Omega always had lots of women in his life and mouse didn't want that.

Almost two decades ago, mouse was owned before and yes long-time readers know that dynamic was wrought with problems. In the end though, it was decided by the Owner (who was dying), that mouse would go to Omega as his slave/property. At the time, for a myriad of reasons and excuses that mouse doesn't exactly regret, she made the decision to not be his slave anymore -- although at the time she didn't understand that was what she did. Never once has mouse paused to consider the enormity of that choice. That was really huge. Certainly she could have gone to Omega and became His property. That was an option, since she couldn't remain her Owner's slave for obvious reasons. Yet, at that time after all the things mouse had been through she decided to leave it all behind her and mentally she was actually ready to do that. There was no or rather little blame. At that point, mouse stopped being a slave.

Eventually after many years she did return to Omega and for the most part she doesn't regret that either, save for the fact that she does wish she hadn't waited so long after we reconnected.

Marriage does slightly alter our Owner/property dynamic but it doesn't lessen the value of his ownership of mouse and it also doesn't place us on equal footing. 

Monday, October 23, 2017

Feel the Night

Sometimes it happens quickly, the seasons change but they seem slow to get the memo from mother nature, then one morning you venture outdoors and are surprised that seemingly overnight everything has changed. The final gasp before the long winter sleep. It's also that time of the year that while everything is about pumpkin, scarecrows and witches. In fact to prove the point, for a pot luck mouse baked a pumpkin pie even. 

It's also the time of year that moue finds it easiest to cook, lots of soups, stews full of fresh vegetables. It's also the time of year where the heater is on, the sweaters come out of storage, and especially at night, the fireplace has a warm glow. This is also the time of year when snuggling next to Master is the very best it can get. Lately, mouse cannot get enough of Master. Not that he minds it at all. At night mouse has taken to sleeping with her mouth close to his cock, and when she wakes instinctively she will seek it out and suck it. Sometimes he wakes, but other times he actually remains sleeping as though he's having a wonderful dream and this increases mouse's own need to pleasure him into having wonderful sexy dreams.