People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing.


I may have mentioned my tasks once or twice already but they are such an important part of my relationship with Sir… So I will continue…

There were many tasks which had an obvious reason.

My liaison with M  was a way for sir to see whether I was ready to push myself away from the marital bonds, not necessarily all of the way (as I did) but even just a little bit. If I couldn’t then it would have been pointless us continuing on our path, I wouldn’t have been happy with an online relationship and I doubt that Sir would have either. It wasn’t what he was looking for in his advert, and it wasn’t what I was looking for when I responded to it. The way he got my imagination flowing with tasks detailing my fantasies, and telling him all of the details of my past experiences. Not only was he getting to know me and the dark, dusty corners of my mind, he was gently building my trust and asserting his dominance through acceptance.

Sometimes the reason felt more about connection than pushing me onward.

Our dynamic was developing but our respective vanilla lives kept in person contact to a minimum. He requested daily video diaries to keep up to date with my life. I also had the body writing which always had the effect of making me feel like he is on me, warming me and touching me. His request that  I wear a skirt with bare legs… well that was a slightly cooler reminder that he was in my mind.

I was never afraid of what  he would ask of me.

He knew my fixed boundaries and I could express my concerns about things that he was tasking me with, but why would he set me challenges that would cause me harm? He wouldn’t! I didn’t even have to ask when he explained that he only owns things that he likes, and he looks after his stuff. As his property I was included in that, a realisation that warms me, even now. The tasks were rarely easy, for whatever reason, but they all made sense.

Well, all except one which has been a source of smiles and mild confusion until Monday when I realised why…

When he first took me on I was to wear skirts and bare legs. Then he added in taking my knickers off every time I went to the loo, and putting them in my mouth while I did what was needed. (I expressed my concern about my children seeing. My young children always seemed to want to talk when I sat on the toilet….he excused me from doing this task when they would be at risk of seeing.) This became a routine for me, and I would often sit there smiling and wondering why I would be doing that. Why???

If that confused me, imagine what happened when he stepped things up a notch. 

When he had first asked what I wouldn’t do for him watersports was one fixed boundary. After I had watered my rose-bush this was downgraded to a soft limit, one that I would push for him. So now I had to wear a skirt with bare legs, and my knickers were to be worn internally. Every time I visited the loo I was to remove them and put them in my mouth. It is very hard to remove a pair of knickers from your vagina without causing a little flood when you really need a pee, and because of the nature of my work (and bladder) I was usually really needing to go. So I would be sat on the loo grinning at the ceiling, with a mouth full of my underwear which was covered in my arousal (because this all turned me on) and some pee. There were moments when I felt that warm glow of humiliation spread across my cheeks, eliciting more smiles, but mostly it was just cheeky giggles.

I had always assumed that it was one of his kinks, and I was grateful to be able to have fun while going about my business.

I never questioned his motives beyond that. Why would I? One of my current tasks is to run three times a week, if I am medically fit. I had planned my long run for Monday, but when it came to getting out I didn’t want to go: it was below freezing, I have a bit of a cold and 4.5 miles seemed a little overwhelming. I decided that I would go, I didn’t want to get behind with my weeks running after all, and I certainly didn’t want to disappoint sir. I was still a bit grumpy at about 3 miles, and gave myself a talking to. The sun was shining, the ground was dry and spring was starting to peek out from behind the frost covered muddy banks. I have always been grateful for my tasks, even when they have challenged me, but I do them because I know it pleases him to see me completing things that he has asked of me. Whether that is something that is important for my health, like running, maintaining our connection with body writing when the miles are great, or letting him into my mind.

I love working hard for sir, knowing that I am pleasing him is the greatest pleasure for me.

Doing something like panty stuffing for no other reason than because that is the way he chooses for me to make him happy makes me smile.


What you allow is what will continue

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The seeds of self-worth had been planted. Sir was the cloche around them, and P was my frost.

As I continued on my journey with sir my confidence and self-esteem began to grow. I became more assertive at home, and began to stand my ground when the mocking was going on. I would ask P not to say or do certain things as I didn’t like them. He would just laugh it off, making out that it was just a joke, but before long the same “joke” would resurface. And there were lots of them to rotate through.

I started to hold my head up high, almost becoming immune to his taunts.

They still hurt but his grip on me was lessening. As I grew stronger and more confident he had to find new ways to hurt me. His bullying of the children and calling them names certainly affected me, but knowing what to do was outside of my understanding, I was no expert in these things. Plus, I had convinced myself that I would be overreacting because of my extra marital activities. How wrong I was!!

I was starting to wake up from the fog of abuse, though at the time I didn’t realise. 

When I first met Sir a condition from him was that our relationship wouldn’t have a direct impact on my marriage. Talking through the problems with him again at this point I was able to genuinely show him (and prove to myself) that I was sticking with my side of the deal. I had grown in confidence as a direct result of my time with him, but I was beginning to see things more clearly and realise that I was worth more, that the boys were suffering too. I had just about reached the end of what I could tolerate. He had a week away with work, I hoped that this would see a change in his behaviour when he got back. Time apart hopefully being a magic solution which would fix our 11 year marriage. Sadly my expectations were not met, and when he returned his demeanour had soured further. Perhaps it was the smile on my face, or the fact that our home hadn’t fallen apart in his absence, but when he came back his anger reached new levels. He would call our eldest son names, and treat him like dirt, between telling him that he was his favourite son.

The night before my birthday I told P I didn’t love him anymore. 

It had been an OK day. I had driven us over to the in-laws house, and on the way home had taken him to the supermarket to buy my birthday present. When we got there he told me he didn’t have his wallet and suggested I go in to choose and pay for my gift while I got something for dinner. And I could take the boys into the shop, he would wait in the car. When we got home he was mean to the boys, and so I did bedtime. Then I went to cook dinner while he watched a film, played a game and chatted to all of his friends on messenger and text… He came out to the kitchen to see what was happening with dinner and it just came out. I don’t love you anymore. In all honesty I had stopped loving him a long time before, even before meeting sir, but I had stopped being able to pretend that things could carry on as they were.

He refused to accept this piece of news.

As was often the way he tried to tell me

  • I was overreacting.
  • I didn’t know my own mind.
  • The boys didn’t deserve a broken home.
  • I was being selfish.
  • I was ruining his life.

Was he right? Was I making a mountain out of a molehill? I didn’t think so but after almost 12 years of negative conditioning (I have had counselling, I can see that now) I was confused. Three weeks later he became physically abusive to my youngest, just a year old. His grip on me was lessening, and so the least able to defend himself got the brunt of it…Three kicks in the face, a year old and assaulted by his father.

The anger I felt was like a cold white heat, unrecognisable from anything I had ever felt before.

It was well outside of my skill set, managing this. Hindsight tells me I should have called the police, had him removed, but my mind went into shock and I had no idea what to do next. The feelings of anger were awful, but the look on his face was worse. I didn’t know what to do or where to turn, who to ask for help. P had systematically isolated me from friends and family and I didn’t think it was fair to lump all of this on Sir (I told him the bare bones but it was my vanilla marriage and I didn’t think he was responsible for that) I spoke to my manager the following week. She suggested that he was trying to antagonise me, and that makes perfect sense….now…over 3 years later, with a healed mind and a fresh perspective, but at the time it was dark, too dark.

It took a further 8 months to get him to leave.

During this time I went to marriage counselling with him where he played the victim, I had my Facebook and main email accounts hacked (fortunately sir was on a new account) and when he finally agreed to sell the house he dug up half the lawn before the first viewing. I heard of a flat coming onto the rental market so I took him to view it, then I drove him to the estate agents to pick up the forms, helped him fill them in and drove him back with them. When he had the go ahead I helped him pack, hired a van and moved him out. The first night he had gone he asked to come back and sleep over, but that was a NO from me. I had my life back.

It wasn’t going to be smooth sailing but it was on my terms now.


Whoever said the small things don’t matter has never seen a match start a wildfire


Once more I am back in the hotel room with Sir.

I had arrived as planned, followed the instructions given to me to the letter, and stood facing the door, naked but for the blindfold that was waiting on the handle. Not even heels, today I was allowed to be barefoot. I had been told that one of the couple’s I had been speaking with was going to be there that night. I could expect to play with them both, particularly her. He wanted me to try my best to enjoy the different sensations and feelings as they presented themselves.

He would be there keeping me safe, watching over me.

Knowing how I was going to be pushed, I nervously shifted in position. I could hear the hushed conversation and gentle laughter floating across the room, and his voice, stronger and closer “Good evening N” Then I felt his breath on my neck as he inhaled me the way he always did, his hand on my waist as he pulled me round to face him, a deep kiss and he took my hand. Leading me to the middle of the room, he introduced me to the couple I would be playing with. I had the choice of kissing her or touching her breasts, I went for her breasts and waited as she removed her bra. Next Sir was attaching clover clamps and weights to my nipples, his hitachi on my apex “she loves this, you could do this to her all night if you liked…” please “Not yet” Removing the wand and ripping the clamps off of me “she is all yours” he said as the lady gasped. An amazing evening followed. He handed me over to the couple and I was immediately worked up to orgasm by her. Thanking her for the release as she lay back on the bed I made every effort to bring her pleasure. This was very tricky as I was still without my sight but she seemed to enjoy my efforts, and when her husband came behind me and took me as I stood there, bent double,  I became less aware of her pee soaked pubic zone and became awash with pleasurable sensations.

They weren’t experienced in kink, but they were guided through it by Him and I was safe and blissfully happy.

Sir tied me and demonstrated how to spank me. He checked in with numbers and explained to them why he was doing that. Unfortunately she was checking in after every strike What number are you at N? getting louder and more shrill with each question and I was finding it too much, it took me out of the positive head-space and I called RED. It was so frustrating, spanking was becoming one of my favourite parts, and I could have taken a lot more but…. Sir understood why I had called it, but I felt that I had let him down when I stopped her. He changed things around. The couple played with each other while he added the anal hook, tying it to my collar and using me in the same way as the man had done while I feasted on his wife.

Next came the ultimate humiliation…

While he used me, and he and the hook brought me close, I tensed up and suddenly there was leakage.  Out came Sir, out came the hook and Sir sent me to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was mortified, but soon managed to sort myself out. We spoke about it the next day,  and I was set another task…To learn how to cleanse myself… Ok, that was something to focus on other than how I had done that in front of not only Sir, but the couple as well! Mind you, it did give us a rest and she was very gracious, making everyone a cup of tea. Mine was guided to my lips by sir, I was always utterly reliant on him with the blindfold in place. While we drank she asked  if she could try on my collar. Sir said it was up to me. Of course I said see what you think. No sooner did she have it in her hands than I realised it had been a mistake. That was my collar and with everything it represented it should not have been going around her neck.

That night I learnt that I would never allow my collar to be tried out for size by another again. 

Discussing the collar the following day I was relieved of the sense of guilt I felt about not wanting to let anyone else wear my collar, it seemed he had been surprised I had allowed her to try it on at all. After we had all finished our drinks I was tied on the bed, ankles over my head…The wand was given to the woman again, and the couple were in charge of my pleasure once more. Asking for permission, having it granted, recovering and building again… Over and over, I was such a lucky lady.

But it is the little things that have stuck in my mind…

The tiny, seemingly unimportant acts by Sir… the sips of water from a cup when I was gasping, the wisp of tickly hair being teased from behind my blindfold, gentle words murmured in my ear telling me how well I was doing, and that solitary finger that trailed lazily from my bound ankle to the middle of my thigh….yes, the little things remain clear as time passes,


I decided that the devil finds work for idle hands and thanked him for his suggestion

pexels-photo-112811.jpegThe times we had been able to meet were so intense, and the perfect cherry on top of a wonderful cake, but they were just part of our relationship.

It was the work I did for him between scenes, keeping me on the boil and building our connection. I was still looking for that elusive female to explore with, the journey was two steps forward and one back. I couldn’t break through though I was, by this point, keen to meet and try for him. I was able to flirt, and exchanged messages and pictures with a number of women. Availability seemed to be standing in the way of some meets, I had two small children, was still living with P and worked during the days. When trying to match diaries with other women who had similarly packed days it became quite challenging. Then there were the women who turned out to be men and the couples who were actually just men pretending to be women saying “I want you to play with my boyfriend/husband/partner”. A learning point for me: establish early telephone contact to ensure the gender is as expected. I also discovered that single women can be quite flaky and rude. A pattern established itself where I would be happily chatting with a lady and she would just disappear, no thanks but no thanks, or  I’ve changed my mind. I did, however, make contact with a few couples, and passed their details on to Sir (with their permission) but it became quite clear that I needed some more help.

I was taken off of this task while he took matters into his own hands.

I wasn’t allowed to rest though. I may have not had to be struggling with finding a woman but I did still have things to do. I was asked to achieve orgasm as many times as possible one Friday. I know you are busy, we all are, but I want you to try your best he asked one Thursday evening, the usual write-up and any possible evidence would be required by him. So I tried hard. I thought I would get a head start, and crawling into bed after P was asleep; it was just after midnight… I got a head start and before I fell asleep I was able to report back that I had managed three. The email awaiting me when I woke stated that it was a good warm up, but the counter started first thing in the morning, I had until midnight tonight. Rather than being grumpy about his words I had a chuckle to myself. He certainly knew how to play with me and it made me even more determined. Even more aroused.

Undeterred I fitted my jiggle balls and butt plug, sorted my children out and headed to work. 

I had a singing group to facilitate in the morning and a staff meeting over lunch, as well as a whole afternoon alone in the office. I was able to build myself up over the morning, covering gentle orgasms from the vibrations with poor vocal skills in the singing group, but what happened at the staff meeting was a surprise. As my manager discussed a first aid course for the whole team I zoned out a little while trying to contain a more powerful yet still hands free climax. When I came back to myself she was asking me if that would be alright for me… Yes, absolutely I said, blushing and assuming it was the first aid course. Nope, how wrong I was. I later discovered that I had agreed to being the fire warden for the three properties which my charity ran. An over stimulated erogenous zone and a moments careless distraction (OK, more than a moment) led to me having more responsibility at work and gave me extra meat for the bones of an application to be promoted.

These tasks were helping me grow in more ways than I had expected, though I would need to be more careful in future. 

The afternoon I spent alone in the office, working hard at my paperwork and increasing my orgasm count at the same time, was surprisingly productive. After work I returned to resume my jobs of mum and wife, and continued my role of sir’s slut when I was able to squeeze in a period of pleasure. It hadn’t been an easy day, but by the time midnight rolled around I had achieved more than twenty. Not bad for me as I was still unused to having that much release unless I was with sir, and then it wasn’t by my own hand… it was under his control. With his request in my mind I had been able to push myself further than I had imagined the day before, when he initially set the task. Needless to say I was pleased with myself when I reported back my final tally, and reading his reply Well N, that’s a good starting point made me believe that he was pleased too.

I did wonder what he would have planned for me next, and as it turned out I wouldn’t have long to wait to find out…

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Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than the silence

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A week before my birthday I had an interesting email from Sir. He intimated that it was his birthday and asked me to write a scene for his celebration. He would be free mid-week, and I had 24 hours to come up with something great for him.

How could I come up with something to make him feel as special as he made me feel? 

I had a lot of ideas going around in my head, and sent him a scenario that I enjoyed when I read through before sending. I proposed a strip tease, massage and worshipping his body, all without the blindfold. I had suggested I would still not be allowed to look at him, unless invited to. All I wanted was to look in his eyes, show him the burning fires of my soul, and having the blindfold just made them burn hotter and brighter. The thought of having the ability to look up into his face, but having to keep my eyes averted still makes my body react in a most curious way, over 3 years later.

He had other plans though, and they didn’t involve me regaining my sight

I was summoned on the Thursday, the same hotel, the same routine. Skirt, no knickers and heels. Catching my breath outside his room wasn’t getting any easier, but falling into his scent was like coming home. On goes the blindfold…. Fixing my collar in place his hands were all over me, his touch calming me. The inspection and reclaiming of my body, followed by gradually discarding my clothes. I could hear them being tossed aside, the sound of them falling to the floor magnified by the blindfold. As much as I craved looking up into his face while he was buried in mine, the lack of sight continued to add to my experiences, etching memories in my mind in an unexpected way. He started to work me over with his wand. Please Sir and he stopped everything No. That was the first time he had done that, not allowed me to orgasm. Huh?? I had known I wouldn’t always receive orgasms but this was a surprise….

Jiggling the nipple clamps he waited a moment and started working me again.

This time it felt different, a little prickly almost. Was that because I was so aroused and hadn’t been allowed to climax? Was my poor submissive brain totally spent already, confused into feeling sensations in a new way? As I asked again I was given permission and as I moaned with pleasure I felt something….and heard a noise I never expected to come from my mouth. Was it a yelp? A shriek? I have no idea, but he had zapped me as I came. As I peeled myself off the ceiling, and reached orgasm again the same thing happened! Ok, yes…..he had discovered in me a love of electricity… that extreme sensation which made me laugh and shriek. Or yelp. Or whatever that noise was!

He said that this was my birthday present

It was certainly the best gift I got that year. Not only was it ridiculous fun being rendered utterly helpless to his torment with this crazy sensation, but he had helped me find my voice. I am a very quiet lady, moans and gentle requests but nothing louder, even when begging for release. Hearing these noises coming from my mouth, my mouth, was more of a shock than those which came out of this wand. How had he known that I could be this loud? Was it just a lucky guess or was there sorcery afoot?

Never one to let me settle into a routine he soon changed things around.

He was constantly stretching me, pushing  me forward down this road, and as he lay me on the bed and strapped my ankles over my head I was physically and emotionally vulnerable. As he filled me with vibrations he seemed to enjoy the pleasure and discomfort that he had chosen for me; every word he spoke seemed to be accompanied with humour or a smile, and though I will never know for sure he has always been an advocate of If it isn’t fun what is the point? 

Was it the new toy, or what the toy represented which made the best birthday gift?

From the first contact he had been making it safe for me to stretch my wings, helping me to learn to fly and setting me on the path to being the woman I am today. As I was bound in this new and stressful position I could feel more of the vanilla bonds that I had put in place as a 20-year-old searching for “normal” slipping away. Rather than blindly rushing into this dynamic, for the first time in many years I had my eyes open.

I knew that Sir had hold of my hand, and slowly, carefully, he was taking me on a journey of discovery.


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Trying new things is the only way you’re going to learn what your new passions are

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There I was, kneeling, head bowed with my eyes gently closed, a bottle of lube in my hand, waiting…

P was away for six nights, working with a friend, and I had made him aware that he would be welcome to visit.

N, Thank you, I will use you on Monday night. Sir

I was expecting him at 6pm. An email arrived shortly after 4pm saying he would be arriving a little later and I should be waiting as requested at 6.15 instead. I had given him directions and sent pictures to back this up as my home was a new build so not on sat nav. My door was just open, and I waited, shivering with the chilly draft and anticipation. I heard his footsteps before the door opened then closed again. He had arrived, he was in my home. It was Monday and he was there, claiming me again. He took my sight first, then explored my body. Before I had always walked into his space, his scent had been there waiting to envelop me when I walked in. What took me by surprise was the intensity as I inhaled him; clean and with the background scent of cologne as he arrived, yet as he buried himself in my face I received a shot of pure man. I found my happy place and melted where I knelt. With my collar fixed in place and my clothes removed I crawled, blind, through my familiar home. I had been told there would be more spanking this time, and it would be harder. I would also have to say I am Sir’s slut with each strike, and thank him afterwards. As I was speaking I worried that my voice would be irritating to him, and I felt a little awkward doing it. But I did as I had been asked, and when I checked in with him the next day I stated my fears, it wasn’t the words (I love being Sir’s slut!) but my voice which caused my worry. I will tell you if something you do annoys me N was exactly the reassurance that I needed, and I knew he meant it.

There were just two things on his introductory list which I had agreed to try for him, even though they made me nervous.

One of those I was introduced to that night, while I sat on my living room floor, propped up on my sofa. He had bound me and tormented me with nipple clamps, forcing me to orgasm until my legs became weak. Then he sat me down, inserted a dildo and attached more clamps to my labia before working me over with his wand again. All things I had enjoyed previously, though I’d never reached orgasm in this position before and cynically thought it wouldn’t happen that night. How wrong I was! As I came down from my first ever seated climax, feeling exposed and utterly brazen, there was a very odd sensation inside of me. Not bad at all, rather lovely actually and then I came again, and again. The sensation became a little more intense, along with the orgasms which hit with increasing frequency. No sooner had I finished one than I seemed to be asking for another Go on then being the standard reply.

Before my first scene with sir I had no idea that I could enjoy so much pleasure as this. 

This pleasure came partly from electronic stimulation, something that, until that very evening, had really worried me. I had no doubt that he was being gentle in his introduction, because he knew that it was a worry for me. The fact that he hadn’t forewarned me of using it on that occasion, and that it was a mild sensation that I almost couldn’t put my finger on. When I asked him later about whether he had used e-stim it wasn’t confirmed, I was left to mull it over. If it was electrical play then I was more than happy to continue exploring this for him, if not then….whatever it was…please, please, please could I have some more??

You trust, I keep you safe

This was something he would say regularly, but his actions proved it to be true. With every email, every task and every scene I became more and more trusting of him. For someone who didn’t trust easily this was a huge step. With the care he took to introduce me to his basic BDSM interests, and the way that he protected me between each meeting by setting boundaries and offering guidance how could I not feel safe. After he had left me that Monday evening I spent a happy couple of hours cooking, dancing round my kitchen and typing up my reaction to the experiences. My thighs were singing from the belt he had used, my labia were pulsing from the clamps and (what I assumed was) electricity and the grin on my face told a story in itself.

I was very much Sir’s happy little slut.


The amount of good luck coming your way depends on your willingness to act.

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There was no doubt that luck had played an important part in my task completion. There had been no lack of effort from me, but I had been drawing blanks left, right and centre.

So when I spotted the opportunity to kiss a woman I took it!

It wasn’t the most planned and premeditated move, it certainly wasn’t seductive or sexual. But it was a decisive move on my part, a huge step in the direction I was being asked to go. I was proud of myself, but a bit grumpy too. It certainly wasn’t everything I had imagined it would be, and it didn’t set me up well for whatever he may be planning next. With my profiles on other websites and adverts in place I felt sure next time would be better, and I was nervously excited about pushing myself further. I was pretty pleased when he sent me details of when he would next see me; thinking I had pleased him I readied myself for the day by getting an early night. The next morning I received a more detailed email. Things would be similar to before, but this time I would be spanked.

You are a bad girl N for leaving things to luck, and you can think about that today and while you are being spanked, being forced to orgasm, and being used by me in every way.

He said that he may forgive me by cumming on face, but I would have to work very hard to make up for my bad ways. How was I meant to get anything done with all of that spinning around in my head? Work, the children and my preparations all had to happen before I could leave for him, it was looking like I had a long day in store. I had instructions for how to dress and this included knickers. I knew where I was going and what time I had to be there. He also informed me that there would some gentle humiliation, to see how I got on.

And I had to put the blindfold on again, bad girls don’t get to see their sir…

As I entered his room his warm scent invaded my nostrils once more, a calming homely aroma, causing the racing in my chest to ease off slightly. Only marginally though as I had a vague understanding of what was coming and I was so excited at the thought of being used by him while worried as I had disappointed him. I didn’t think I should be as aroused as I was, given the circumstances, but the scent mingled with anticipation to produce one hot submissive. Then he touched me, explored me, inspected me… I was fully clothed but felt naked under his hands. There was a familiar buzzing as he plugged me, and then the collar (or as sir said: MY collar) was put on me and linked to a leash before I was taken on all fours to receive my first proper spanking. Oh my goodness…..I had only had one experience of being spanked and it was not a pleasant one. This was something I had yearned for and, though he explained he would learn me as we went along, and he would be gentle because he didn’t want to mark me very much, I loved the way my flesh sang as he worked over my behind. He checked in regularly, using the numbers system that we had discussed beforehand. I was fully clothed still, my skirt up and over my hips exposing my knickers, and there was a vibrating plug buzzing away inside of me.

Before I knew it I was naked and the plug had been replaced by him and I was telling him I was his slut.

P had regularly called me a slut, I had been made to feel shameful of my promiscuous youth. How different this was, I was naming myself as HIS slut at HIS request. This made me glow as brightly as my behind, in the most wonderfully proud way. Sir never once made me feel stupid or inadequate, instead I felt desirable. This gentle humiliation was fun, and felt very, very positive. As the evening progressed I struggled through orgasm after orgasm. I also enjoyed exploring him more with my mouth…his nose etched in my memory…. Catching droplets of sweat as they fell from his nose I was unable to help myself from going back for more…this felt so innocent yet so depraved. More so than the anal hook, spreader bar and rope bondage. He was ripping orgasms out of me for his amusement, to teach me a lesson about not letting lady luck do all of the work, and here I was refreshing myself with his droplets of liquid treasure, the product of his labours.

He must have been pleased with my efforts though, for I was rewarded by the most wonderful flood.

It went from my nose, down my chin and trickled over my collar. My greedy mouth caught some as well. I had been forgiven, and I was over the moon!! The thought of letting him down was really unpleasant and I would do my best to make sure I was never a bad girl or a source of disappointment for him again.


You are confined only by the walls you build yourself.


What he asked of me next was to prove an ongoing source of worry for quite some time.

I had told him that I was straight, I felt no sexual attraction to females whatsoever. I had also told him that if something was not a hard limit I would explore my sexuality for him. So when he asked me to kiss a woman he knew exactly how hard it would be for me. Everything else he had asked of me had been fairly easy for me psychologically, but this task…..this stretched me a long way past the edge of my comfort zone. Not to my hard limits, but certainly I had to drag myself over the soft limits of my mind. I had no female friends I could ask and no idea where to start looking. There was a big brick wall ahead of me, and I had to figure out a way of climbing over.

I wanted to try, I wanted to please him and (curse my curiosity!!) I wanted to see what would happen next. 

That brick wall was high, and I couldn’t find any foot holds to start with. This was partly inexperience, but partly something that P had used against me. Any time I had refused sex with him he would accuse me of being a lesbian. What nonsense that I should allow that to hold me back. I spoke about my fears with sir and he reassured me. If I did turn out to be that way inclined what did it matter? And what does it matter what other people say anyway, especially closed-minded men who behave badly? So I kept going. I kept trying. I was close to asking him to help me, this was so hard, but I got lucky. I was a member of slimming world at the time and there was a pre-christmas food evening. The consultant was the life and soul of party time and had brought mistletoe. So I got a kiss on the lips from her. And a kiss from a man in his 60’s who thought that looked like great fun.

Purely by luck I had completed the task.

Talking things through enabled me to see where the issues lay, and sir was on hand to give me guidance and support in the next step. As I lived in a town where everyone knows if you so much as sneeze it was suggested that I cast the net a little further afield.  I set up a new email address, a fabswingers account and posted adverts on other sites. I was “considering experimentation”, not looking for anything more. My efforts mostly came up blank. Looking back now it is obvious why I had no success, I can see why experienced and passionate women wouldn’t want to play with a nervous woman who may decide it wasn’t for her. Time is precious after all, and newbies aren’t an exciting proposition when it comes to indulging your sexual desires… whatever form they may take. Still though, I kept trying. Occasionally I would make contact with a woman and have a chat. This moved on to flirting a little. It was odd to see myself stepping a little closer to the boundaries of my mind. I had self-limited for so long that now I was ready to take the plunge I was increasingly frustrated to not be able to try it, to explore a bi side which I hadn’t ever wanted to and delve deeper into my submission.

This online world of hook ups and casual encounters was odd

I had been warned to be aware of scammers which led to one of the most surreal conversations ever…. I wanted to know how I would be able to tell a scammer, and this was part of the response I got:

I asked what the website  was. It took a few replies from sir for me to get my head around the fact that it was just an example. For an intelligent woman I can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes (usually around technology, the internet fits right in with that) Fortunately, over 3 years later and I have yet to meet a scammer.

At that point though even a scammer would have been welcome.

What he was asking me to do shouldn’t have been so hard. I wasn’t shying away from working hard, it was a psychological challenge but one that I had accepted and was trying hard to fulfil. I was disappointed that I had only managed to complete my task the first time by luck, I felt I had let us both down when all I wanted to do was please him. It is only recently that I asked him if he was disappointed in me, if I had let him down. He said that I hadn’t, it was part of my journey and it was pleasing him watching me grow. I had accepted this task though and wanted to complete it properly, to the best of my ability.

Besides, just because something is hard doesn’t make it bad.


I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious


I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t plagued by a thirst for knowledge.

I have never seen this as a negative, it is a good thing to be constantly learning after all. In fact, my tutor recently complimented me on my “intellectual curiosity“. I have occasionally been called nosy, but the questions come from a place of interest rather than wanting to gossip. If you have a secret you need to get off your chest I’m the girl for you, not only do I like learning new things, but I won’t judge and I love knowing things other people don’t so it will go no further. People are endlessly fascinating and I love learning as much as I can about all of those who enter my world, especially the important ones! Yes, my curiosity is strong and I am proud of it.

So what on earth was I doing, working hard to please a man who, in his own words, I would get to know very slowly.

A man who enjoyed his air of mystery and used it as a powerful tool in his toy bag. I am so pleased that he told me this early on, it gave me the freedom to just give in to his psychological dominance. If questions go unanswered I have a tendency to try to work out the answer, and this can drive me crazy, so had I not understood his way of doing things it is highly likely I would have struggled and become quite anxious. The way he explained it all to me gave me the peace of mind and security that my not knowing wasn’t because I had done something wrong.  (He reassured me that if I ever did anything to annoy him he would tell me) Don’t misunderstand me, if I had an important question I would know the answer as soon as he could tell me; he was my educator and my protector. But there was a distinct difference between what I needed to know and what I wanted to know. Knowledge is power after all.

Submitting in this way allowed my busy brain to calm, just a little.


It also drove me to distraction! It still does. In the best possible way.

The connection between my brain not getting the information it wanted lit pathways of desire which snaked from my frustrated brain to my apex, stoking the fires he had set ablaze. He had always encouraged me to imagine all of the possibilities, an amazing way of intensifying sensations when enjoying my personal playtime or completing tasks such as having orgasms in densely populated areas. Sometimes, as I lay in the darkness next to P, I would imagine my delicious Dominant emerging from the shadows as he entered our bedroom, using me and leaving again. Those were the best nights.

Even without P in my bed those are still the best nights….

During the weeks following our initial meeting he asked me to find alternatives to hotels. He was ill, so unable to meet with me, but as he would be moving into work accommodation and I was living in my marital home there needed to be safe spaces which we could use; making use of my curious brain he set me to work finding places which would work for our requirements. I got busy and worked hard. It was an eye opener, how many different options there were. I forwarded details to him as I had ideas and found places. I enjoyed the way he channelled me, even then.

It soon became apparent that he found my curiosity amusing.

I would be given tit bits of information, clues and red herrings. Never enough to let me get the full picture, just enough to send me into a spin. Like giving me 7 random numbers of a 500 number dot to dot. I would try to work out the rest of the picture, but to no avail. I would tie myself up in knots, trying to figure things out, and then I would have a chuckle at myself for doing exactly that. It was the kind of chuckle that was accompanied by a frustrated groan, because even if I was hitting the mark with my guesses I wouldn’t know until he was ready to tell me. When he eventually told me his line of work I was so annoyed with myself… I had decided on a dozen different careers and, even though some were fairly close, none of them were right. And looking back at the clues he had given me it would not have been unreasonable for me to have got it right!

With great knowledge comes great responsibility.

It was lovely to be able to unburden myself of just a little responsibility through my submission to him, and not being allowed to know everything. When I had first decided to look for a dominant I had no idea that it would be this way. I had imagined the kinky sex, oh yes…I had definitely imagined that…and surrendering through that outlet, but never had I imagined this journey. I will be forever grateful that I chose that time to search google. A week either side and I may have missed out on this wonderful, dark and deviant soul who not only wanted to nurture me but also tease my mind for his (and perhaps by accident my own) entertainment.



She didn’t need to be saved. She needed to be found and appreciated for exactly who she was.

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“It’s simple, be genuine and try hard.” He said “You can have this, but you must show me you want it”

As I made my way home after the first time I met him, his words floated around in my head. Different conversations melting into each other, as sensations from our evening together danced over my flesh. I guessed he would have some thinking to do and I looked forward to finding out his decision. I wasn’t expecting an email to be waiting for me when I arrived home. He asked me to tell him how I had found our experiences, and also to think about what I would be willing to do in exploring my sexuality should he decide to take me on. As P had gone to bed before I got home and I was still too wired for sleep I decided to get going there and then.

I somehow managed to find the words to fit my feelings. 

I knew that I would be safe with him, and aside from the few fixed boundaries I had informed him of I had yet to learn of anything I wouldn’t try. I wanted to delve deeper into what I could experience and had no doubt that he would be the one to hold a candle as I wandered with him, into the darkest recesses of our imaginations. I knew that at any point I would be able to stop, but that I just wanted to try my best.

  • For me? Yes, without a doubt.
  • For him? Absolutely!

He must have been pleased with my responses to the questions he had asked. He decided that he would take me on, to see how things could work; a probationary period if you like. I was happy with that. Life was far from stable at the moment, and it would be a test for me as well as for him. For now though I belonged to sir, and my body writing changed.

I was now to replace “For Sir” with “Property of Sir” on my breasts.

A small difference, but one that made me glow from the inside out. It wasn’t the only thing that happened, he would now begin introducing rules. The first one was I would not be allowed to have sex, or sexual contact with any man other than him, unless instructed to, or with explicit permission. The sole exception to this was P, as an early condition of my interaction with sir was that our relationship would not affect my marriage directly. The second rule was that I would not have contact with other dominant men. I queried this, I didn’t understand why not. His explanation made sense, it can be confusing for a new submissive to have many dominant men vying for their attention, especially when there are so many men who like rough sex under the guise of being a dominant. Also, there is an etiquette in this world that I hadn’t learnt by this point. He had shown me that he wasn’t the jealous type, or possessive, and helped me to see that while I was learning the way of things it was best this way. I was also overdue a hair cut. At the time I had cropped hair, but wondered what he would like…..

“Yes N, start to grow your hair”

It still raises immense curiosity in me, the emergence of the submissive side of me. I had known all along that I was deviant, that I had needs beyond those my vanilla husband could provide for, but I could never see a way back to me. I had known what I needed for some time, and I can see now how I began to unfurl.  As sir started to introduce boundaries, it started to feel safer to stretch out a little. I could see where I wasn’t allowed and could push myself everywhere else, especially where he asked me to go.

And the next task was a big push

I was to reach orgasm twice in public, busy places where there was the potential for being spotted. One on the saturday and one on the sunday. No mean feat for a mum of two small children! He had told me that he would take everything he had learnt about me and find ways to stretch me within those current desires, and that would be just the beginning.

What a beginning??!!

Tapping into my (not so) secret exhibitionist, seeing what I would achieve, and how I would manage. Fortunately I can be resourceful, and had a number of discreet toys at my disposal. It seemed natural to send him pictures now, partly as evidence to him that I had completed the tasks, but also as proof to myself. Those moments when I looked at the skies with a grin and asked “What on earth am I doing?” were precious to me, and sometimes I could barely believe that I had completed these exciting and wonderful ideas of his. If I’m honest I also guessed that he would get as much of a thrill out of seeing the pictures as I did sending them, why would he ask me to do these things if he had no interest in seeing the results?

The pictures though…sent without a request…a sure sign of my growing confidence

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He walked into my heart like he always belonged there, took down my walls and lit my soul on fire

I still think about the day when we first met. Part of me wants to keep it private, though I believe that is mainly because trying to put words to that evening feels a little big…


The waiting was almost over. I had been thoroughly enjoying my tasks while growing in confidence and learning about myself. The day had arrived and I had some instructions.

  1. The time.
  2. The place.
  3. The outfit.
  4. What I was to do.
  5. His expectations.

There was a little guidance on what I could expect, but not a lot. As always there was enough to inform, but not so much that my imagination and curiosity were sated. We had discussed safety, and what he expected of me regarding this. As I fed my children, and waited for P to get home from work I could feel the anticipation bubbling away in my tummy. One final email, confirming the room number and checking that I still wanted to meet with him. P knew I had to leave at 7 to get to my friend’s house for dinner at 8.

Looking back it was the lies I had to tell that were the hardest thing for me.

Oddly, in spite of his lack of trust in me, on the occasions I went out to play he never once accused me of cheating or “checked” that I hadn’t upon my return. At times I tried to rationalise the lies… Perhaps, if I was happier in myself then he would be happier with me, and our home life would improve! Naive? Maybe. But it was an ideal that I shared on some level with sir so maybe I wasn’t completely off target.

7pm came and went, P was home but refusing to put #2 to bed sooo….

I escaped at 7.15, and drove like  demon to get there on time. Using the loos in the restaurant near the hotel I changed into the skirt and heels, and freshened myself up. Then, after dropping my bag back to the car, I entered the hotel.

  • Through reception, up the stairs, end of the corridor on the left.
  • The door will be held open with a towel.
  • Breathe N, breathe. 
  • Shut the door behind you, face it and put on the blindfold which will be hanging  nearby.
  • Then wait for me.
  • Do not speak.

That first time I stood there, waiting. I could feel myself almost vibrating with excitement, nerves, anticipation. Waiting, still waiting.

And then he was there, next to me, inhaling me.

I had been so distracted by the inaudible buzzing I hardly recognised his approach, but his breath on my neck was all I needed to come back to myself. To him. And then he was talking to me, examining me, running his hands across me in a way that made me smoulder. We had barely started the evening and I had no idea what he would decide afterwards but…in that moment I burned and knew that I was his. My clothes soon discarded, a collar round my neck and my first taste of him.

I was in trouble if he didn’t want me, already intoxicated by his taste, his scent, his voice.

We had discussed rope, of all the restraints I had experienced rope wasn’t one of them, and I had craved it somehow. He tied me in a chest harness and the sensation of being bound, his breath on my naked skin, his fingers tracing the lines of the rope. He had explained that he tied for control rather than art, so I knew that this would be part of his plans for the evening. What I wasn’t expecting was to need to be held up with it as my legs turned to jelly from the many orgasms he ripped out of me.

So many exciting new things that night, too many to list for sure. But the pictures he took showed how far I had travelled from the woman who first responded to his advert those few weeks ago. My body still remembers how it felt, being claimed by him in every way. How, while laying on the bed restrained towards the corners (in case I floated away??) feeling like I had no more orgasms to give, he entered me ever so gently and I unravelled all over again, all over him.

At the time it felt like an out of body experience. I recognise that murmuring state as the early phase of sub space now.

He untied me, and held me safely while I floated back down to the bed, and when I had recovered enough to move he guided me (still blindfolded) to the bathroom. Once the door was closed I removed the blindfold and looked at myself in the mirror. I was drenched in sweat and my pupils were the size of dinner plates! With those big black puddles of pleasure staring back at me, the electricity coursing through my body and the calmness of my mind I felt alive.

I felt like me again. 

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Opportunity knocks. Temptation knocks the door down.

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Give a man more than he bargains for. You set the level. Impress me.

This was the third part of my next task, and the one that excited me most; but which part really got me worked up? I could go out and meet a man, with the full intention of having sex with him. Whether I got that far or not was my call, because could set the level. Really though…it was those two words on the end.

Impress me.

It was like a red rag to a bull. Not only did I get to push myself to do something that I really wanted to do, I could do it safe in the knowledge that I wasn’t even doing it for me. And the further I could push myself, the happier he would be… Win:win! What an opportunity?! I set about finding a man. Fortunately I was still on bemydom, and there was no shortage of men hoping to get some action. I had been approached by a man whose profile said “no married women please” so I rejected him with a polite message. He replied and after a brief exchange I decided that he was the one for me. We arranged to meet on the Sunday, for a coffee, in a city half way between the two of us. A nice public spot, safe for a single lady to meet a stranger. Beyond that I had no fixed plan, I would just wing it. I had to make a plan for getting away in the morning, and I had two other tasks to be getting on with over the weekend as well. Oral on my husband, completed. Stretching vaginally and anally, both depth and girth. I assumed this would be difficult, but I had not realised how little interest P had in my life. This played out nicely for me, and while he would be watching films, playing computer games and talking via messenger and text with his friends I would have stacks of free time to go about my business.

Sunday morning arrived, a beautiful, sunny september afternoon. 

I was in my car heading west. He was in his car heading north. We must have parked at the same time as when I walked onto the cathedral green he was walking along in front of me…so I sent him a text. M turned around and I knew I had made the right choice. We went for a coffee, chatted in the sunshine, laughed and joked. Then I suggested we go for a walk, and I took his hand leading him away from the crowds. I surprised him by taking him in my mouth while leaning his back against the rear of the cathedral… The look on his face…. Oh this was going to be fun!! We returned to the green and lay on the grass in the sunshine, him returning the pleasure in a more discreet way. I now understood why Sir liked skirts and bare legs, though it seems I can be a little slow on the uptake! He then suggested we find a room, but I didn’t want to pay for somewhere when al-fresco was so good, and yet so bad. Have I mentioned I love the great outdoors? The exploration of my boundaries continued on a walk around the quays. In a park there was a very suitable (and we guessed much used) hollow bush. Oh, the things we did in that bush, just ten paces from the footpath.

On discussion with sir afterwards he thought some of my ideas had been almost Domme, but I assured him I was just dirty.

The temptation to fully engage with this task was too great, and the only thing we hadn’t done was anal. That was a conscious decision on my part as during the week I had been told that I was to save my orgasms for when I would be meeting sir and…well… anal has quite an effect on me.

I didn’t want to push myself too far in one task, and risk going wrong in another. 

We continued our trip round the city and he walked me back to my car, my pleasure dripping down my thighs. Driving home thinking about the day I had just enjoyed, I was awash with energy. The freedom that I felt, giving in to my carnal desires. The joy that I felt, knowing that I had done my absolute best for Sir. I knew that I had been unfaithful to my husband but I felt no shame or guilt and that was what surprised me… The lack of conflict was certainly a relief.

I was finding my true self again, and loving shedding my vanilla bonds.

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Personal growth is not about learning new information but unlearning old limits

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A couple of weeks ago I was picking up my children from school and heard one dad say to his three-year old daughter “Don’t try to do that, you can’t do that yet so don’t even try.” She had asked for him to help her on the monkey bars after seeing her friend (my youngest) swinging around. His words really made me think, and feel proud of the way that I try to parent. Those words came back to me today, while reflecting on the next phase of Sir considering me.

I was the little girl wanting to swing on the monkey bars, and he was encouraging me to try, standing a couple of steps away, arms outstretched waiting to catch me.

Had he been telling me not to try, or worse, forcing me to swing on those bars when I didn’t want to, I dare say I would have shut down. The person I am now certainly would have! He wasn’t though. Every step of the way he was asking if I understood what was being asked of me, and if I agreed to it. I was free at any time to say no, to express my fears or to just embrace the task. Sometimes there were fears, and he would help me work through them. Had I not been having to face my fears the tasks would have been too easy and I would have likely shut down, as I would have done if he were forcing me into things. As luck would have it the following task was something that excited me and terrified me in equal measure. He was to be away for the weekend, and he had a very special request

Be your own Sir for the weekend. Entertain me. Stretch yourself

The first thing that went through my head was the fear of not being good enough. How was I meant to entertain him? How could I possibly know what would please him? What should I do???? So I started. I spent the weekend with my children and husband, sometimes breaking away to complete the tasks I set for myself. He had asked me to send pictures, videos and write ups as I did things, depending on what was appropriate. I can not recall all of the tasks but I know there was body writing, stretching and a little exhibitionism. The task that I am most proud of, and that sticks with me to this day is my first step into watersports. I had told him that this was a hard limit for me, absolutely no doubt about it. But being asked to entertain him….I suddenly thought of a rose-bush in my garden that was pretty much dead. I decided to go and pee on it, and video myself.

Looking to the heavens with a grin, questioning what on earth I am doing, is something that I associate very much with Sir.

That rose-bush came back to life, it lives in a pot outside my back door and flowers twice a year. Something of a trophy, it never fails to raise a smile when I see it. He had said that he would be out of contact all weekend, and would look at my tasks the following Monday. Imagine my surprise when I received a couple of brief yet encouraging emails from him as the weekend progressed. I wasn’t sure if he was bored with my tasks and pushing for more, or if he was impressed and showing he was grateful. Either way, I was too busy being my own sir to give too much thought to the doubts in my head; it was just nice to have contact.

The following Monday he had decided that he would meet with me, see how I fitted in person. Due to availability I still had 9 days to wait, which meant more things to do for him, and another weekend to push myself and potentially withdraw. If I ever decided I was unhappy there was always the option of telling him no more… It never happened though. Yes he would push, yes some things were more challenging than others, but I never felt unsafe or unhappy.

Three more tasks. One I had no desire to do but which would be fairly straight forward oral for the husband. One I could easily manage, it was just a matter of finding the time, stretching myself physically, depth and girth. And… One that excited me more than I dared to admit. Not just the task he had set, but the way he set it…

Give a man more than he bargains for. You set the level. Impress me.


If it doesn’t challenge you it doesn’t change you

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During those early conversations he would draw information out of me, a constant stream of little jobs for me to do. A picture here, an answer there, now two pictures each day with different writings, and then a video. Ok, ok…pictures were hard enough (confronting the image of myself before I hit send) but videos…. I had no idea what to do. Panic isn’t something which happens to me, anxiety, no not that either…. but he was definitely pushing me past the edge of my comfort zone. The first video was an innocent one, asking me to introduce myself and ask, again, to be his. Flushed with success I awaited his next request.

This one was not so innocent.

He asked me to orgasm for him. And send him a video! At this point I was rarely indulging and had no idea if I would a-be able to achieve one, or b- catch it on camera. Having been mercilessly mocked for my moans of pleasure for years I was painfully self-concious. Of course, he knew how hard it would be for that very reason, but as he had said If your sub isn’t moaning and screaming in pleasure what is the point when I initially told him of the mocking I was sure he wouldn’t laugh at me. Determination is a funny thing, and I suffered through an intense orgasm. Sending the video, again very pleased with myself. Oh no!! I had made a video of the wrong part of me, he hadn’t initially requested to see my face, just a video as good as I could make it, but I had filmed the working end so he could’t see my expression…. Another video was requested  Repeat your previous task, but this time at the point of orgasm, I want to see your face At this point in my vanilla life I was rarely able to achieve more than one a week, except on rare occasions when 3 or 4 would come close together. To try again after about half an hour was intimidating, to say the least, plus putting my orgasm face on camera…. But the way he asked, and the words laced into the email, how could I not succeed??

I could feel myself growing already, breaking free of the vanilla bonds I had been constricted by for so long.

The feelings I was experiencing were new to me. Trust, lust and pride. He never demanded anything, I knew all along that it was my choice. He was absolutely clear on that. And when he sent me a list of his baseline interests I poured over them. What could I expect during an introductory phase, things which would be extended as time passed and my experience grew. The list was accompanied by four headings.

  1.  what I’ve tried
  2.  what I would like to try
  3.  what I don’t fancy but would try, for him
  4. what I won’t do.

I had wondered if the list would be full of things that scared me, but no. There were no number 4s, and only two number 3s. Both of those were things that I didn’t know about and was worried that they would hurt, a fear  which tickles me now, when I am looking back to me then, seeing how much I have learnt and what I hunger for. The rest were either things I had done and loved, or things that played a part in my fantasies.

Initial signs on compatibility were positive.

The next day was another task, using my imagination this time. He asked me to share my fantasies with him. They tumbled out into my emails. I’m not sure if he got more than he was expecting, but he never once asked me to stop just make sure they were each sent individually so he could enjoy or study them separately. Once he was satisfied with my task for the day he informed me that I could continue to send them as I thought of them.

These tasks were just the beginning.

He was cataloguing me and my desires, learning about me in a wonderfully gentle way, teasing my inhibitions out of the way. I had never met him, and only had my instinct to go on, but I continued to put myself in a compromising position with him. Never once did I feel worried that he would abuse the trust I put in him, something I can’t explain, even now. An innate understanding that he was one of the good guys.


Things were going to step up a notch soon, he kept saying that he was demanding and would continue to push me, challenge me and watch me grow. What was he thinking up? I had no idea, but I had the strongest feeling that I would like it very much.


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