I think part of me will always be waiting for you

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I knew that Sir had been invited to a meeting nearby, and that he had arranged his trip around when K and I were available.

He had mentioned that he felt his contract was coming to an end and that things were set to change again, mentioning that he may have more time to focus on different things. I guessed that he was making peace with his career coming to an end as he had hinted over the recent months that he was close to retirement from his chosen career.

The day after K and I had met with him he sent me an email in the early afternoon.

Confirming that he had thought the meeting would be to formally wrap up his current contract. He had ended up meeting with a new potential employer, discussing a full-time permanent overseas contract which he felt he would be offered over the following days. If that happened he would take it, he wasn’t in a position to turn down work; I completely understood his reasons for this.

But what would it mean for us? 

He would be out of the country for long periods of time and contact would be very difficult to maintain, so he gave me the options.

I will let you decide how you wish to continue. If you want me to contact you, as and when, I will do so. In the meantime, your rules etc. would be removed and you will be free to act and do what you wish.

Or If you wish to just get on with your own thing, I will not contact you. Either way you will have no restrictions on you.

It was a simple decision for me. I was his, I think I always had been. If that changed while he was away I would tell him when he got back.

News on the contract didn’t reach him for a couple of days, but he informed me as soon as he knew on the friday. They had offered him the contract and he was to leave the country the following monday. With packing  and work permits to organise there wouldn’t be time to see each other before he left, so I sent him some pictures to enjoy while he was travelling… I didn’t want him to get bored.

I was surprised that I wasn’t devastated at the news of him leaving. 

Don’t misunderstand me, I was very sad that he wouldn’t be guiding me or using me…  But I was genuinely excited for him. I had seen the challenges he faced while looking for work, and knowing that he loved what he did and could continue for an unknown amount of time made me really happy. It is now almost 2 years later, and I still feel the tears prickling at what I would be missing, but the over-riding emotion was always happiness for him. I understand now what those feelings mean, though putting the right words to it is still challenging.

Unlike when he had his accident I knew the score this time.

I would enjoy my time without him, organise my life and make plans. Continue to grow and challenge myself to explore safely. He gave me some guidance to keep me safe, and I have been following them ever since. All common sense, but some things I would never have considered… Seeing how I was when left to my own devices before I was very grateful for this support and preparation. I asked him what would happen if something were to go seriously wrong for him, like when he was in his crash. I didn’t want to be always wondering if the worst had happened. So he promised that he would “get someone to drop you an email.”

Then he was gone. 

And my journey was set to change direction again…

 

Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.

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Sir had been called in to attend a meeting not far from me, so K and I were invited to join him the evening before.

When he emailed us in the morning, I responded promptly and chattered to K via text but, unknown to me, she didn’t respond to him. I received an email later in the day asking if she had changed her mind as sir hadn’t heard from her to confirm. I reassured him that I was due to be at hers at 6pm, and we would be there in plenty of time. Our instructions for the start were the same as I was used to. This time there would be two blindfolds waiting, one each. We were definitely not allowed to draw attention to ourselves as we walked through reception! He emailed shortly after 6 to confirm the room number and K, who was testing my patience by being predictably tardy, replied that we were getting our stuff together and would soon be on our way.

By the time we finally got on the road I was a little bit frazzled.

In fairness to K she was nervous, and chattered away as we drank our cups of tea on the drive towards the hotel, a very familiar route in my kink life as well as my personal and professional ones. I was able to talk through her jiggling nerves with her, explaining what my experiences had been and what my expectations of the evening would be. I had to remind myself that this was her first experience of BDSM, and that it was a good thing that she was asking questions. Her chatter turned to her swinging experiences and I was able to just listen, and run through my thoughts as I drove. When I parked we nipped to the restaurant toilets to freshen up, and I put my heels on, then we were good to go.

The room was the first door you arrived at after walking through reception.

It was open, as always, and we walked through into the darkened room which smelt so familiar. Putting my bag of toys down next to me (as instructed) I handed K her blindfold and put mine on, and encouraged her to settle. My heart racing. Then he was there, greeting us, running his hands over my body and claiming me back. Today there was no collar for me, its absence weighed more than the thick leather band itself. First we were tied together, and then encouraged to explore each other. Then he used a wand on each of us, his Hitachi on K and the electro wand on me. Sadly the vibrations and static didn’t produce the intensity required to take me over the edge, and when he told me I was to be quiet with each orgasm I told him that the wand wasn’t getting me close, the vibrations weren’t going deep enough.

I had brought the doxy, and he switched over to that… which worked a treat.

And then I came repeatedly. Although she hadn’t been expecting it K experienced orgasms too, and was quite vocal. I understood why I had to be quiet… Two moaning ladies would attract undue attention. And when he swapped back to the electro wand it was even more fun trying to keep the noise down. That evening I was exposed to a number of firsts. Reading through my review for the evening I can see the disappointment I felt. During a scene he would always ask “Are you bored yet?” and the answer would always be a resounding no. This night he didn’t ask me that question, and it is the only night I would have said yes.

There were bits that I really enjoyed, and I was really surprised about them.

Such as when K and I were sharing his cock with our mouths, kneeling either side of him. I loved that. And when he showered us with his cum at the end, feeling those drops fall on my body and my face is engraved in my memory. Understandably there was no impact play due to the proximity to reception, but when we were bent over the bed, side by side and tied at the ankle, I could have wandered off and made a cup of tea. And when K and I were in a 69 (I have never been a fan of that position) I may as well have not been there while he took her from behind. We spoke about this afterwards and he told me that some Dominants would have had me sit on a chair and watch them use another woman but he didn’t see me ever not being involved. It was a form of humiliation. Something that I still don’t fully understand.

What surprised me was how I felt about sharing him. Not that he was mine to share.

I had worried that I would feel lacking in some way, or jealous at his attentions being laid elsewhere. There was none of that, for hich I am extremely proud. I felt left out, but never not good enough. And though there were parts which I wasn’t enamoured with, there were many parts which I did love. I have always felt selfish because of my mixed feelings about that night when I know full well that scenes with sir would sometimes not be about my needs, and given the meeting he had looming over him the following day… Speaking to him about it just a few weeks ago it turns out that he was a little disappointed with the evening too. Not being able to include impact play for me, us having to be civilised because K was more about the swinging than the kink and he didn’t want to scare her, and me not being as free in my sexuality to fully embrace it. I am looking forward to revisiting this scenario at some point, and seeing what we have both learnt from that experience and over the (almost) two years between then and now.

This was my first time with Sir of my expectations not matching the experience. Not bad for a journey of almost 2 years…

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Patience is not the ability to wait- it’s how we behave while we are waiting.

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With my meeting with B fast approaching K had also brought up the subject of joining us.

She broached the subject with me one evening over dinner. We often spent the evening together at hers when my boys were with their dad and her partner was at work. She kept me updated with their (her and her partner’s) exploration into the swinging world. The clubs, the couples and the mistakes. Since we had become friends she had started to explore herself more, and had gained so much confidence in her ability to orgasm that she was now camming alongside taking paid calls. What she wasn’t able to do is explore kink with her partner, and she was curious as she saw how much I got from it. She was very shy when she asked if the offer was still there for her to join me and sir, but I reassured her that it would be lovely to have her join us. All she needed to do was send him an email, and open the lines of communication.

K seemed relieved that the offer was still there, but very hesitant to make contact…

Over the next few days we exchanged many text messages, and she finally opened up about being dyslexic and her fear of looking stupid in an email to someone I had so much respect for. I had to pick up the phone and explain to her (with gentle amusement) that I was yet to meet anyone less likely to judge her for being dyslexic than him. He had told me at the start of our communication that he was profoundly dyslexic, I knew that he would understand! And now I understood why she had held back from sending him the email all those months ago. And then she got in touch with sir, and they started discussing her likes and dislikes. As her experiences had been around swinging he asked her if she understood that we would be playing within a D/s context, and he suggested she talk to me about what would be involved. He also asked her for more information on a couple of points she had raised.

Then she closed off again. This was hard work!

We would spend time together, and chatted about what he had suggested, but she didn’t want to answer his questions. I said that I would support her in typing up the response, but couldn’t write it for her, and I certainly wouldn’t be pressurizing her. If she had changed her mind I wouldn’t think badly of her. That way of playing isn’t for everyone, and she was my friend first, and potential play partner second. This is the text message I got the next day:

I totally wanna try this out x if i don’t like it then fine at least i know i will be safe trying it x

It turned out that she wanted me to help her write the email because she didn’t know what to write, and I had to explain to her that it need to come from her, in an open and honest way. If I helped her then I may inadvertently put pressure on her to do things she didn’t want to do, and I would not be doing that!

At that K was back on the case, and put together her answers for sir. 

With their conversation back on track and a date pencilled in for the following week sir set me a task. To come up with a something which included her, to please him. So one evening, with a bottle of wine in hand, I knocked on her door. She knew that I wanted to ask her something, and was a bit embarrassed about it. What didn’t know was that her partner was joining us for the evening, following an early finish. Ah well, she was quite happy with my request, and with help from her partner I sent sir a picture of us topless, with body writing. Sir’s slut and slut’s buddy. He was pleased with my efforts, and her partner thought it was hilarious, but K and I were focussed on the upcoming scene, both nervous but for very different reasons.

A scene which seemed to come around very quickly indeed, after all of the hard work and patience required to get to this point.

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Let us stumble through the night and make friends with all the stars.

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Time continued to slip past like water slips through my fingers.

After K had said she wanted to join me and Sir for a scene she had given me her email address so he could contact her. He asked that I gave her his contact details so that he would know it was her choice to contact him. As time passed he still hadn’t heard from her, and we decided that I shouldn’t remind her about it as I didn’t want to be that friend. If she wanted to join us but had lost his details then she could ask, but if she had changed her mind it would be better to not push things and pressure her.

So I kept up a search on fabswingers, for a female playmate and a woman to join us.

One of the ladies I had spoken to in my very early days on the site had been nervous about BDSM and exploring her bi side. She had never been with a woman, and had experienced dark times in her first foray into kinky sex. We had chatted for a while, and then parted company. One day I noticed B pop up in my “Last 100 people to view you” page so I thought I would say hello. I discovered that she had been thinking about the scenario again, but would be nervous about blindfolds. She would also like to have a social meet first (a new thing for her, but standard practise for me) to see if there was any attraction to me. I would be her first female playmate and she was very nervous. She seemed to be quite interested in the power exchange dynamic between myself and sir, but was clear that she wasn’t submissive at all.

We were arranging the social meet for an early summer’s evening while the boys were with their dad when B surprised me.

She said that she wanted to ask sir if he was happy for us to meet. After checking with him I put her in contact. She was clearly very careful that he would understand she was asking if I would be allowed to meet her, rather than the other way around. 

I would really like to meet with N and have my first Bi experience.
Are you happy to give N permission to meet with me? if after chatting, that is something she would like to do
I look forward to hearing from you

With his blessing we finalised plans to spend an evening getting to know each other. Both keen sea swimmers we decided to go to the beach for an evening dip, and then find a cafe for a drink. The swim was wonderful and we laughed in the waves, then, with the sea sparkling in our eyes we dried and dressed on the beach and over a hot chocolate the conversation flowed. We got on so well we decided to stay out for dinner, and there was definite spark. We swapped stories about our experiences on fab and life in general, even sharing a kiss which we both enjoyed. She commented on feeling sexual attraction towards me, and being surprised to be feeling that, and I had to agree.

We parted ways at the end of the evening, and promised to keep in touch. 

We planned to meet again soon, hopefully to play. She wanted to gain confidence again before stepping into the world of BDSM again, her experiences with Dominant men had been less than positive, but in the meantime we could both gain confidence with women. Looking back now I see that evening with B as a date. It was not just my first date with a woman, it was my first date EVER. At this point I had no idea how important this wonderful woman would become to me.

Beautiful, bonkers, and brilliant B.

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I like the way you make me feel, even when you’re nowhere near.

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The next few months showed no sign of letting up in worries for either Sir or myself.

I had a rumbling back injury and was unable to run. The lack of intense exercise and layers of trouble with P led to a dip in my mental health. Fortunately I was in touch with support from the health visitor and I was quickly referred for counselling, along with a medication change through my doctor. Sir had been made redundant and was now looking for work, and travelling far and wide in his search. When sir was in the area I was physically unable to make myself available, in spite of my best efforts. We kept in regular contact though, and he would pop up in my emails with surprising regularity. He had told me that he would always be aloof, but he was there for me in subtle ways when I needed him, though I never asked. 

I really enjoy watching porn.

Why? If I needed reasons they would be: Inspiration, education and titillation. Also communication… I would occasionally send sir a video that caused particular excitement. These were often met with interest as I had offered him an insight into my turn-ons and curiosities, which seemed to be increasing by the day!

I hate shopping!

When I say that I mean I loathe buying clothes, and shoes. Food shopping I enjoy, because I love food. And then there are the countless places to buy sex toys online. With all of the porn I was watching and my limitless imagination I was naturally drawn to that kind of online experience. And as I saw items that got my heart racing, or made me chuckle I would drop sir a quick email and he would respond in kind.

I adored the random check-ins.

The emails that would pop into my inbox at odd times, asking how I was doing and what I had been up to, telling me a little about what he was up to, and teasing my mind with partial nuggets of information. It was during this time that he told me his line of work. I had a string of clues, and came to the conclusion that he definitely did not work in finance! When the message came through saying no more clues I had a long laugh at how my mind had danced around his career but missed it completely. Reading back through the emails while writing these posts I can see the answer clearly many months before this disclosure on his part.

The long distance Dominance was most wonderful though…

My ongoing task of meeting a woman was hard… and his support was gentle on that front; people had been so rude that it seemed like I would never get anywhere and I valued his patience. There were other things to do for him too, which kept me occupied and connected to him over extended periods. But it was the evening emails which asked me to remind him what I look like which made me smile the most. Or the close of an exchange where he would ask to see me before I went to bed. Then he would close the conversation with a single word… Sleep

And with that I would melt… 

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I’m not making any plans. I’m just going to let the universe surprise me.

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With a storm approaching in my vanilla life it was my turn to hit the brakes in my relationship with Sir.

I explained the situation to him, and though it hurt me to have to pause things he was clear in that my priorities should not be working hard for him at this time. As a mum I needed to concentrate on the crazy situation with P as it unfolded, to have my children as my main focus and to look after myself. He stepped back a little sending me the occasional email checking in, but giving me the head space that I required at the time. I can see now that he did the right thing; for the first time since meeting him I had not missed his tasks or craved contact.

It took about 5 weeks for balance to be restored, and I started to get some free time.

…and as if by magic an email dropped into my inbox. Another general inquiry as to how I was doing, but the timing caught me off guard. Those painful and challenging weeks slipped away and I managed to piece together a more in-depth response, stating that I felt ready to work hard for him again, to feel that connection. He had been giving me space, but now I was available, physically and emotionally, to please and entertain him again. Although my life was getting back on track his was up in the air again, this time with work being the cause for much anguish. Though he would not be in a position to meet me for the short-term, he would be in contact and had a job for me…if I was sure I wanted one. Before his accident he had been planning a scene with another woman, preferably submissive. It was part of the planned journey that he wanted for us, and one that I was looking forward to. So to help things along, if you wish to do something for me for now, see if you can find a woman to engage with that one scenario.

And just like that I was back and working for him again.

I had forgotten how challenging this task had been before. Nothing had changed since I had last been looking, and he and I would have familiar conversations about lack of interest and rude responses. Neither of us understood why people had to be rude to me. I was always very polite, read profiles and spoke appropriately. I would never dream of sending a message I wouldn’t be pleased to receive. Lack of interest is fine, rudeness is not. There were some ladies showing potential, but they didn’t seem to go anywhere. I had no idea what I could do that would improve my chances.

As the search seemed to hit more dead ends I suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

My friend K was very open about being bisexual. Of her 6 long-term relationships 2 had been with women, and in discovering that she had a kinky side it seemed that she was flirting with me. I was not particularly aware of it to start with, but as she became more suggestive I realised that she was coming on to me. I spoke to sir about the situation, unsure how to proceed, or even if I should. I worried that if I invited her along to scene with sir and myself she would want me to play with her and her partner. I wouldn’t be able to do that, he had a beard and…NO, I don’t mix well with beards! Sir’s advice was that if I wanted to ask her I should, but if I would have to do something I didn’t want to in return then he wouldn’t agree to her joining us. Trading is only worthwhile if it works for everyone.

And so I bit the bullet and asked her.

It was less that I asked her, more that I went round for dinner and wine, and after a couple of glasses I opened my mouth and the words tumbled out. Much to the amusement of her partner, who was sat across the room. As K looked at me with a puzzled look on her face I swept the words up again and formed a coherent sentence. If you are interested in playing with me and want to dip your toes into kink, perhaps you would like to join me and sir one day? Even though she had been showing signs that she was interested in me I was shocked when she agreed, without hesitation. There was no trade-off, no bartering for a threesome.

Just an enthusiastic YES! and she handed over her email address so that sir could get in touch.

Sir requested that I give her his email, and then if she wanted to know more then she could ask, rather than him approach her and seem forceful. That way he would know that it was entirely her choice to be in contact, without coercion from her partner or a sense of duty within the friendship. So I gave her his email, and then the wait began… K is a wonderful human being, but she was dreadfully scatty.  

While I waited for news I was excited that we had the green light, and the greatest surprise was that it was a close friend who would be joining me.

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Sometimes asking for help is the bravest move you can make.

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I can’t place the next memory on my submissive timeline, aside from it being before the next phase of my life. It is one of the most important lessons I had to learn in both my kink and vanilla life.

The memory of asking Sir for help when I was at my most vulnerable still gives me shivers.

I was lying on the bed, naked but for my heels and blindfold, with cuffs at the wrists and ankles. My wrists were free and my ankles were linked by a spreader bar. The orgasms and anal play I had endured for Sir had made my head a little fluffy, and my legs a little wobbly. After he helped me into a sitting position at the edge of the bed I heard him walk across the room and from there he asked me to follow him. I managed to get myself to standing, JUST….

And then I was stuck!!

I struggle to walk in heels at the best of times, and blindfolded and fuzzy is not the best of times. Add into that the spreader bar and you get one very confused submissive. He obviously saw my struggle, and I heard him gently say something about my left leg. But I couldn’t work out which was my left leg, let alone how to move it. While I floundered around he must have moved back to my side because as soon as the words “Help me please Sir” escaped from my lips his hands were there. He was on my right, and took that hand firmly, before tapping my left knee by way of instruction. And as soon as I had started my slow and steady move across the room it was over and we were able to continue with our evening. I had never felt more submissive than when I had to ask for him to guide me across that chasm of vulnerability.

I had never been one to ask for help, strong and bloody-minded through even the toughest times.

One cold, wet and dark February evening, after picking my children up from P, my oldest jumped out into the road in front of a car. Scared I grabbed him and made him hold onto the pushchair handles, telling him that’s where he would need to stay until we get home and he said “Good that’s what I want.” A very uncharacteristic statement from my son who wasn’t quite 7 at the time. By asking open questions I was able to get to the bottom of what had happened.

P had scared the boys when he lost his rag due to not being able to shut a drawer.

I was told how Daddy had thrown things around, shouted and screamed, swearing all sorts of obscenities. It was a scene that I could easily picture, from my own experiences with him, but I had expected that his bad behaviour would never spill over when he was the responsible adult. I automatically went into work mode, and made sure that there was a “safety management plan” that the boys could follow if they ever found themselves in that situation again. I spoke to P who told me that I was over-reacting as always, that he hadn’t been that bad. As he said he was struggling at that point I took the opportunity to make sure the boys didn’t have to see him for two weeks. That gave me time to think about next steps. Steps which would prove even more difficult than the ones I took with Sir in that hotel room all that time ago.

I needed to ask for help from the experts in child safety.

It may seem odd to think at such a challenging time in my vanilla life, as a mum, that I would be able to take inspiration from my kink life, as Sir’s slut. The knowledge that I had been able to ask him for help when I was stuck and vulnerable showed me that I would be able to ask; it also demonstrated that if I didn’t ask I would stay stuck, like a blindfolded submissive in heels and a spreader bar.

So I asked. I contacted the health visiting team and found the strength to tell the nurse everything about P’s behaviour toward the boys.

With her encouragement I made the single hardest phone call I have ever had to make. No parent wants to phone social services, but I needed support, and they are the experts. The social worker I spoke to was very helpful, and I ended up with a plan of action and a direct contact number.  With my plan I visited P, and told him exactly what would be happening, and I told him that if there was a sniff of that behaviour from him I would not hesitate to contact the authorities for advise. (I chose to keep my previous contact to myself.) By being brave and getting the support, then challenging his behaviour something changed in P’s attitude towards me, and more importantly towards the boys.

Through vulnerability and submission I had unlocked a fierce and protective creature. Fearless? Not quite, but not fragile in the face of fear anymore.

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To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.

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It was with great anticipation that I stood outside his room on a wet and windy January evening.

My company had been requested earlier in the day, and K had agreed to look after my children so that I could go out to visit Sir. It would cost me having her daughter to stay the following weekend, but by this point I was brave enough to look after children that were not my own! And I really, really wanted to see Sir…

I say “see Sir” with my tongue firmly in my cheek. 

Our time apart meant that I would be wearing the blindfold which would be waiting for me to put on as soon as I entered the room. If I could still follow instructions then we would move along from this point again, but I did love the blindfold… It was a safety net against the intensity of him, I worried that without it I would be like a rabbit in the headlights. Fortunately I didn’t need to worry about that for today. What I did need to worry about was how to transport my toy collection without drawing attention to myself as I walked through the hotel reception, in heels. My instructions for the evening were to wear a skirt, knickers and heels while having bare legs. My hair needed to be up as it had now grown enough to be put into a tail.

As my name suggests I am very comfortable barefoot.

Sir knew that I had been practising wearing heels while he had been away, but that I was still far from comfortable in them. I have a love/hate relationship with them: they are often aesthetically pleasing, but slip off of my feet and I end up looking like a clumpy clown. Somehow I managed to make it from my car to his room, and once inside the door I was able to stand steadily. Waiting for the sound of him moving across the room, his footsteps approaching across the carpeted floor. And there he was, running his hands across my body, claiming me once more.

His toy, his plaything. 

The bag full of toys that I brought with me and waited by my feet was all but ignored as he drew me into the scene with just the lube extracted from the top, where he had asked that I put it. I knew that he would be marking my backside, but aside from that I had no ideas. With my hair in a ponytail he had something solid to properly hold onto, and though I had experienced hair pulling before I had never had my head pulled back that far. There was a moment of real fear, when I realised that I couldn’t breathe because of the angle, but I trust Sir with my life and know full well that he will always keep me safe, all I need to do is trust him. So I did… I still felt that thrill of fear coursing through my body, but it wasn’t the terror that had briefly threatened to bubble up.

And then the impact play began…

Familiar and delicious, my backside appreciated the attention no end. And when he flipped me over and started on my feet I was in second heaven. I remember the position well, laying on my back holding my bent legs behind the knees with my feet presented for him to beat. I was exposed and vulnerable, blind to his movements I had no idea what he was using on me. It was stingy and had a bite…but I couldn’t put my finger on the implement. After an extended assault on my soles he paused and I caught my breath. I felt the air move and braced my feet for what was to come, but instead my poor unsuspecting pussy took the full force of the impact. Umph! 

I hadn’t been expecting that, and blushed with the pain and humiliation at my unspoken assumption.

Thinking back now I can almost imagine a cheeky grin flashing across his face, but at the time my lips had become swollen with the relentless blows. What was it that he was using…??? Now that he had moved away from my feet to a more sensitive area it felt like a Cat of nine tails, but the only time I recalled having one used on me was by a gentle sadist. This one made me want to sing in pain while my arousal leaked out of me… adding to the intensity of sensation.

The pleasure and pain link still forming, gradually, in my mind. 

Throughout the scene his wands were never far away, either his Hitachi giving the wonderfully satisfying and deep vibrations, interspersed with his electro wand which made me shriek, jump and giggle through orgasms. But what surprised me was toward the end… taking him deep in my throat while he used what felt like a tree trunk in my swollen apex. Each and every time I gagged on him it felt like a small flood would escape me. This was the first time I recall that sensation. Much like when he first introduced me to electro play I had to check in and see whether I had imagined a different sensation, I asked whether I had covered his bedding. I had always imagined I would be ashamed if I ever were to gush, but this hadn’t felt like I expected it to, and I trusted that he would tell me if I had done something wrong so I could just enjoy the situation. And when I received his cum I swallowed as much as I could greedily. When he flicked the last few drops over my face as they escaped the end of his cock, I don’t think I have ever been more grateful.

Driving home with flecks of his semen over my face, and in my hair… the invisible marks that I always adored.

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Image from Bould Whips

A wise man’s question contains half the answer.

Sir and I got back into a routine of contact but our vanilla lives got in the way of seeing each other.  

As ever I felt that buzz whenever I got that email notification from him. With my world being so busy it was almost a relief that he did not ask me to complete tasks as often as before he went missing. There were no questions that his needs of a semi-regular scene partner matched my desire to have him back in my life but with a lack of availability. The first chance we had to meet up again fell through due to a last-minute change in his work location. The second fell through because P decided last minute that he wouldn’t be having the children as planned.

But still we forged ahead with conversation and an online companionship of sorts.

My local friendship with K was blossoming, and she would invite me to dinner on evenings when I was child free. And there were M and R who, though further away, I enjoyed spending time with too. As my confidence grew in these three friendships I would make plans, with the knowledge that they would fully understand if I needed to change my plans last-minute. That could be due to Sir becoming available, or P being a wally!

It felt very much like things were starting to fall into place in my life.

I had made friends with understanding and kinky people, and Sir was just an email away, what I was missing was real-life interaction with deviants. Not for play, but for learning about the way people enjoy the BDSM lifestyle. I find people endlessly fascinating, and this curiosity was burning away inside me. I was still on Fetlife, finding my way and making those online connections. Two people who I was in contact with were Cephelo and Eretria. They were the owners of studio onyx which is where I had played with H on a number of occasions. They hosted a number of different events, and one was happening on a weekend when the boys were staying with their dad. It was also a weekend that Sir would definitely not be free, and as ever he encouraged me to continue growing.

We had discussed the “community” when he first took me on.

He chose not to be actively involved in the community due to the number of “experts” and the associated drama. He fully supported me in finding my own way. The event I had found was a fetish party. They held it monthly at the time, and I was itching to go along and dip my toes into the wider scene. So I spoke to Sir about it, sending him the information I had available for him. We chatted about the studio and the owners, the dress code, and my nerves…. Though excited at the thought of attending I was very, very nervous. I’d been to Onyx before, but never driven myself there. I sent an email to them, asking for the postcode and directions  and while I waited for a response I decided on an outfit of sorts…

Side shot of outfit Crouching shot of outfit

 

I sent the pictures to Sir, expressing my worries about the party.

The outfit met with his approval, though he pointed out that I may get a little chilly. A very valid point, given the time of year particularly! He asked me two questions about the evening:

  1. Did I want to go?
  2. Would I be safe?

If the answer to both of those questions was Yes then I would have my answer. If either came back as a No then I should stay home with my back up plan: my toy box and my imagination.

I had just about convinced myself that I would go when I noticed the time.

I would need to drive for an hour to reach Onyx, and for me to reach the event in time I had to hear back with directions before the cut off time. And I didn’t.  They got back to me ten minutes past that point. Could I have gone along at that point? Probably. Did I end up just chickening out? Highly likely. Hindsight shows me that I could have called the number on their event page, but also I don’t think I was ready for a fetish party at that point. I was heartened to know that I was growing and getting braver all of the time. Planning an outfit, and asking for directions were two major steps for me. It is funny how two simple questions can have such an impact on my understanding of myself and my lifestyle, but those two questions asked by Sir have remained as clear guidelines since then.

Answering Yes to two simple questions opens so many doors.

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A wise mans question contains half the answer was originally posted on A leap of faith.

Good things can come from unexpected places.

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When I first met K I couldn’t possibly have known how things would develop.

After having my first son I had awful post-natal depression and couldn’t bond with him. When he turned 3 I realised that I liked him, and it was such a relief! While I never wanted anything bad to happen to him, I felt terrible guilt for bringing a child into the world and not connecting with him. When I discovered I was pregnant with my second child I went into a tail spin, I imagined that everything would be the same all over again, and I became quite withdrawn again, more-so because P kept telling me,as the pregnancy progressed, that I should have had an abortion and that I would never cope with a second one. I was very lucky that I had an excellent GP and midwifery team, and was immediately referred for talking therapy, eventually meeting with a wonderful lady called Maggie.

The talking therapy could run alongside a new course of CBT for new and expectant mothers.

The Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (can you imagine a group of 20 pregnant woman being armed with Cock and Ball Torture skills??) delivered in a group setting was quite powerful, and I made some interesting friendships with my peers. One of these ladies was K. A few years younger than me, and expecting her first child a couple of weeks before mine was due. She didn’t make it to all of the sessions, but that was because she gave birth a week early and her priorities shifted. Shortly after delivering my second I was suggested to go to a structured Mother and Baby group. I had always avoided the traditional groups with my first because….well…. at the time I felt that I wouldn’t fit in and nobody would want me there, but looking back I had been so isolated by P that I would have been worried about the repercussions. This time I had been “invited” by the health visiting team, and following a referral back to the community mental health team for a medication review they had planted a boot firmly in my backside, I had no doubt that I needed to go along. And there was K with her baby, looking terrified!

At the end of the 12 week programme we agreed to meet up for a coffee some time soon.

With my return to work fast approaching, two small children and an unpleasant P calling the shots it wasn’t until the babies had started at play school (two years old) that we randomly bumped into each other in the street. Finally we firmed up plans to meet for a coffee the same day the following week, after dropping the children off for their sessions. It soon came round, and we were sat in the coffee shop drinking together, and chattering about very, very vanilla things. We started discussing the course we had first met on, and how helpful it had been for us both, and then we discussed antidepressant medications and the associated side effects. The main problem for her was a kind of loss of libido and also an inability to orgasm.

I’m not sure she expected me to start grilling her for information on her masturbatory techniques…

She didn’t know why she brought it up, other than feeling safe in my company, and that she could be entirely open with me and I would never judge. She had no idea that I was kinky and well practised in the art of orgasm; we met through having babies, and being wholesome maternal figures, how could she have known?! By being open about her issues I was able to impart some knowledge. We sat in the middle of the cafe discussing hands, positions, vibrators, nipple clamps and magic wands. A second cup of coffee followed, and soon it was time to head our separate ways again to collect the toddlers, but this time we swapped numbers and decided to meet up much sooner than two years time.

She came over for a visit the following week for a children’s playdate after school.

The children played, and after we had eaten and they had gone to bed I showed her my toy box. My collection had grown from a small bag, to an overflowing picnic basket, and now I had a vintage flight case beside my bed with toys galore. We didn’t play with each other, or the toys, but she was heartened to know that a little over a year before I had been orgasm poor and was now more than able to satisfy myself. She went on her way with a shopping list, and soon found her way to climax.

That was the first time I corrupted a vanilla, and I loved it! 

She was also the first female friend I had become friends with after P left me with very few friends. I was free to be as ME as I wanted to be with her, and it was lovely because she was slightly off the wall too. Her partner was very supportive of her exploring this side of herself, and was grateful to me for guiding her towards the unachievable “O”. She still couldn’t achieve them with him, but at least she could scratch the itch herself now.

When you decide not to be afraid, you can find friends in super unexpected places. 

And I certainly did just that, cultivating a kinkster from a chance meeting with another mum-to-be.

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One Lovely Blog Award

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Thank you Dominanceinprogress for nominating me for the One Lovely Blog Award.

Rules:

  • Thank the person who nominated you for the award.
  • Share seven things about yourself.
  • Nominate 7 other bloggers and inform them.

My 7 Things about me:

  1. My favourite cut flower is the Iris. They are quite a challenge to get hold of in the uk for most of the year, but my second choice of Alstromeria is much easier to find (and longer lasting as a cut flower) I suffered with awful hayfever until I was pregnant with my second child, so though I love flowers I have never really gotten into the habit of having them indoors.
  2. I have had 16 piercings, but none of them are in use at the moment, though I can still coax rings through my ear piercings.
  3. I have 6 tattoos… My favourite is my newest, flames on my ankle. I confused my tattooist because I laughed through the entire experience, this is apparently not normal!
  4. My favourite book is a curry recipe book from the 1970s. It has wonderful recipes, but is also a language course in Hindi, and contains maps and information on the different regions. I am sure that this book is one of the main reasons India evokes such wanderlust in me. The way the pages are grubby and my memories associated with feeding loved ones from those pages make this pip Gone With The Wind into first place.
  5. Until last year I would have said that the sea was my spiritual home. Since starting to explore the moors I have realised that it is any place where I can feel the peace, quiet and isolation of wide open spaces, the harshness of the moors or a stormy sea make me feel alive as well as remind me just how small my problems are compared with the bigger picture. The roaring sea, whistling wind or thundering rivers are my way to mindfulness.
  6. My dad died when I was 15. I was a daddy’s girl. I miss my dad, but I’m not looking for a Daddy ?
  7. I’m mostly a tea drinker, white with one. My preference is for loose leaf Assam. I don’t think there are many problems that can’t be fixed with a decent cup of tea. Saying that, if I find a really passionate coffee shop I love a double espresso. If you’re ever in Devon give me a shout and I’ll take you to my favourite cafe for some liquid lust.

My 7 nominations:

  1. Crazy Lady In My Head
  2. Naughty Nora
  3. Not Your Average Girl
  4. Frances Elaina
  5. Life, Love and Bollocks
  6. The Zen Nudist
  7. Mental Health @Home

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