I’ve been looking forward to attending Eroticon since I saw the posts surrounding last years event. I knew then that I wanted to be there this year, and would find a way to make that happen. My gran died in June, and I was given a little bit of money. Early bird tickets were released almost straight away, and I knew that I had to sign myself up. The closer it gets the more nervous I become. Seeing the “Meet and Greet” posts have built
NAME (and Twitter if you have one)
I’m N, barefoot and @thebarefootsub Tell us 3 things you are most looking forward to at Eroticon 2019
There are so many people I have met online, it is exciting (and a little bit nerve racking) to meet you in person.
I’m looking forward to discovering more about blogging, learning new skills and gaining in confidence in my abilities.
Eroticon is a huge leap of faith for me. Meeting new people en mass is always scary, and a weekend of full on learning is going to be a big challenge. It would be easier to stay at home and relax with my children, more comfortable. But I was never one for sitting in my comfort zone, and I’m looking forward to stretching myself in a new way.
We are creating a play list of songs for the Friday Night Meet and Greet. Nominate one song that you would like us to add to the play list and tell us why you picked that song.
I love to dance to this song with my children, even on the most stressful day we will end up relaxed and laughing. I’m sure more than a few of us could use a bit of musical courage. Add in that as sex bloggers we rely on social media to spread the love this song seems like a great tribute.
What is your favorite item or book you’ve purchased so far this year?
This year has only been short. In the last year I could tell you exactly, but I’m a stickler for details and…. The favourite item I have purchased this year is a 9″ girthy suction cup vibrator. It isn’t so much about the toy, more about the shopping trip itself. My wonderful friend B had a very important request for me, but I think that is probably a blog post in itself.
You can have an unlimited supply of one thing for the rest of your life, what is it? Sushi? Scotch Tape?
An odd answer for the barefoot sub… Footwear!
I don’t just mean sexy heels (that I can’t walk in.) I mean bamboos socks, snuggly slippers, supportive walking boots and flip flops. I love having a nice pair of knee high boots for moseying around in the autumn, and fluffy socks for evenings in. But I mostly will need running shoes and socks, and they are more pricey than thigh high patent leather lace up boots with scarlet soles…
What is your favourite quote from a movie?
My favourite movie is Burn After Reading. A bizarrely funny Coen brothers film which I have watched numerous times. Silly and dark, and the quote I have chosen just about sums it up.
Report back to me when, uh…I don’t know. When it makes sense.
What is your word suggestion to next years Eroticon anthology?
Complete the sentence: I feel…
Going for a bare foot puddle stomp in the rain. That should stop the nerves building too much!
Painting the picture of my day it was clear that I had a couple of hours free before the school run. A window of opportunity where you could play with me, push me, see what I was made of. The anticipation bubbled away as I made my way through my tasks for the morning, counting down to the arranged time. You had told me that the play would come in three phases, the first would be for me to get my feet nice and dirty.
At 13:27 I sent you a message.
It was time for me to start dirtying my feet. My shoes and socks came off, and out I went. I knew that the dry weather and road sweeper would limit my ability to get grubby so I wet my feet before stepping out of my courtyard into the street. The cold tarmac bit into my wet soles, the sharp little stones causing pretty pain to dance over my soles though they wouldn’t stick to my feet. I kept walking, finding grit and dust to trail through. It was no good, my feet were staying clean. Eventually I found some roadside shrubs with damp mud surrounding them. Digging my feet into the cool dirt I found success. And now that my feet were sticky and dirty they I picked up more filth on the walk home.
If this was the first part what was to come…
Showing you my dirty soles as I sat on my front step I didn’t have to wait long to find out. “Do you have pegs?” My little box of pain has play pegs in it, but they were up my cream carpeted stairs in my bedside drawers. Looking at my washing line I easily had the dozen pegs you had requested. “Strip and get in the shower.” My need for clarity stepped in, should I have the shower on or off? I’m glad I asked as you wanted me in the dry shower. With the pegs.
One on each nipple, close to the tip. Then, with your hands above your head, shake your breasts six times. Achy? Good…
Now, three on each of your outer labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.
Now put two on each of your inner labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.
At each stage I took a picture for you, showing you what had been happening.
Evidence for me as much as for you, when I look back and scratch my head in puzzlement.
Looking back at them now, I can feel the pulsing from my breasts, an ache that quickly subsided after the first set of shakes. The six on my outer labia set my body ablaze with sensation. The throbbing from the makeshift clamps causing my clit and inner labia to swell, making me feel needy and desperate to cum. And then the four on my swollen inner labia, a lighter sensation. It wasn’t an erotic pain, but it was a safe pain that I wanted to endure for you. The shakes before this third set of pegs had made my juices flow from the physical sensation, the third set was me becoming mentally undone.
Now, crouch down, spread yourself with the pegs and piss all over your feet to wash them.
I hadn’t even realised I needed to pee, but the flowing nectar warmed my feet and I rubbed them together under the stream to remove as much dirt as possible, watching the grime flow over my white bathtub. My feet partially cleansed you checked in with me.
How was I feeling? Throbbing.
If I said to use a toy to make yourself cum what would you choose? My Doxy.
Pull the pegs off quickly.
Edge yourself three times.
Then give yourself three orgasms.
Enjoy yourself. Make me proud.
Instructions that a girl can get on board with.
The pegs made me squeal quietly into my dirty shower, blood rushing back into my compressed and sensitive flesh. No sooner than I had got my breath back I was heading to my bedroom, the Doxy ready and waiting for me like she always is. Cresting three times, shouting “No” hoarsely each time, preventing the sensations to overtake me. Stopping just in time. And then bringing myself to two powerful orgasms. The third was elusive. Patience was my friend this afternoon, and with a sensational self-inflicted squirt the pleasure crashed over me once more.
With spray on my thighs and feet I realised the time.
I was just in time for the school run. Sending a quick “thank you” I dressed and headed from my home, dirty feet covered in my favourite socks. I love the school run with dirty secrets, and today was no different. I was aware of the filth between my toes as I stood chatting to another mum. Hugging my children and taking them on their way my brain switched from submission to motherly love. It wasn’t until later, when we arrived for their swimming lessons, that I took off my shoes and socks. My dirty, piss soaked feet were perfectly filthy.
The sight of them, brazenly naked on the poolside, sent a thrill through me.
It has been ten months since I began blogging, but for as long as I can remember I have been writing.
From tentative forays into creative writing as a pre-teen girl, allowing the poetry to bubble over through my adolescence and then more technical writing for study and work. I have always found it easier to communicate my thoughts and feelings through the written word; troublesome and happy memories often become tangled up together in my brain like spaghetti, the writing helps to seperate and smooth. When I first met sir he nurtured this by allowing my thoughts to flow through emails, never stifling me. Tasks, reviews and fantasies. Nothing could stop the depraved contents of my mind seeping onto the screen.
MrN also enjoyed my indulgent emails, and M enjoyed love notes dropping through his post box…
When sir came back into my life at the start of the year the blog that he tasked me with seemed overwhelming, confusing. But he knew me, and wanted me to continue to grow, in skill as well as confidence. It wasn’t long before the fear passed and I embraced this new world of communication. I have found a wonderful community where I can share with like-minded souls and, even when the words dry up, I can participate with images and pouring over the writings of others.
The task was to share the story of how I became the woman I am today.
Over the last ten months I have meandered my way through thoughts and memories to March 2017, all the while writing new memories. As I mentioned in my Everyday is #Boobday post last week I have just celebrated my birthday. Over the last four years I have made some wonderful friends, and one such lovely lady, Dr Lovelace, organised me an utterly awesome weekend away. It started with a flogging workshop with Aemelia Hawk, of Kabunza Craftwerks. Her workshops have been on my bucket list for a long time, and I came away with skills (some very exciting skills) and some beautiful floggers.
Oh, and a shameless selfie!! Fangirl moment…
A whistle-stop tour of the hosting club gave us a peek at the exciting times that could be had on future road trips before we dashed off to our next stop, Ticklemania!! I will write in depth when I catch up to now, but as a curious woman with no previous experience I was oddly nervous. Well, oddly for me. However, saturday night saw me as the newbie, and I could not have been made to feel more welcome. I made some new friends, experienced some new things and can wholeheartedly recommend this event, and venue to Lees, Lers, and kinksters. There was also cake…. It seems that my 36th birthday coincided with the tenth Ticklemania, and who doesn’t like cake on their birthday?! (Or any other time, but then I’m a cake slut!)
Worn out from the days exertions we headed back to our hotel in the early hours.
The next day saw us heading to the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar. This has been on my list since before I’d even heard of Aemelia, and when our planned photo shoot was cancelled the week before we decided to head along. I’m so pleased we did. We bumped into people from the night before, and I met Zak Jane Keir whose blog I have been following for a while, but didn’t recognise her. As I bought a book we chatted about her writing, and the anthologies she had worked on. A conversation followed on all things Eroticon and writing in general. Life doesn’t seem to be getting any less exciting.
What a wonderfully wicked weekend!
It seems I had better get my writing head back on, so many memories to think about, process and enjoy all over again. And the list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter! That’s ok though. As Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying:
Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.
That’s a piece of advice I can adhere to.
Click on the button to see what everyone else is up to for Wicked Wednesday.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Turning 35 was the end of an incredibly painful year and I was so very, very low. I can barely believe the change in me since then or the progress I have made in the last year, but finding this picture left me reflecting again. This was taken almost mid way between birthdays, and it is very easy for me to look at it and see the physical imperfections.
But that’s not what #Boobday is about!
I started making healthier choices last november, losing 4.5 stone to date. If you are have read many of my posts you will know that I enjoy running too. It isn’t the physical changes that I see in this picture. Last year I had sallow skin and almost constant panda eyes, spending the majority of my time covered in bulky clothes. The peace that I see in the picture above is my everyday now, the demons are much easier to control at the moment and I enjoy just being at peace.
At peace with myself, and with the world around me.
I may be scatty from time to time, and lose focus on the additional tasks, but the important things are taken care of.
I wonder what progress I will make over the next year.
I have many things to look forward to, goals to achieve and an enthusiasm I never had in my twenties. Exploring my kinks, meeting new people and remembering to nurture not just my children, but myself as well!
My first weekend without my boys since I had upped sticks and moved down country, and I was faced with an empty home and an empty heart.
Something had to change. At that exact moment I didn’t know what, but something, anything, had to happen to lift me out of this funk.
I was sitting on the third step, drinking a cup of tea and wondering what my life had come to when my phone dinged.
It was slave Lytton and he had an interesting suggestion. MsD wanted to go to a local event and had summoned him for chauffeur duties. Given that I was local now he wondered if I was child free, and if I would like to meet him up there? THIS is another of those moments where my life path forked and I chose to push myself towards interesting times. Draining my mug I set about choosing an outfit (not difficult as I had such a small wardrobe at the time) before wrapping myself up in a thick woolly jumper, hat and scarf and heading out of the door. The venue was somewhere I had been the previous summer, and had an odd experience.
To say I was nervous would be an understatement.
A quick message to another friend, MT, and I had someone to walk in with. As it turned out, entering as a “couple” reduced the cost significantly which was a bonus! I quickly changed into my shorts and corset style top before stuffing my snuggly clothes in a little locker and joining the growing crowd in the bar area. Finding SL and MsD, she instantly instructed him to get on his knees so that I could have his seat. More people I had met the previous year started to arrive, and brought cakes for another Mistress’s birthday; her sissy maid served them around to the crowd. I’d not met him before, but found him to be charming graciously accepted the cake he proffered.
So many new experiences already, and the night had only just begun…
As people started to make their way to different play spaces I drifted upstairs with MT, SL and MsD. I struggled to climb the stairs in my heels and was soon sat down with MT watching as SL was ordered to strip and lay over the spanking bench. While he did this MsD spread her tools out on top of the cage beside her, looked over at me and said “you’re turn next” as she locked eyes. I was taken back to the previous summer at my first fetish night.
How could I refuse an offer (haha) like that?
Enjoying the scene which unfolded before me, I grew moist in anticipation. MT and I chatted quietly as we watched, catching up on news and life in general. Soon she was done with SL, sending him to fetch a drink while she sat and regrouped. It is a hard job being a Domme! Refreshed from the rest and drink, she bundled SL into the cage, still naked, and was soon beckoning me over, instructing me to bare myself for her pleasure. As I lay there, exposed and being beaten, I would cast my eyes over to the resting form of SL, who was watching intently from inside his cage. Working through her toys, she sent me off into my own little bubble. My happy place.
Who could possibly have known I would find this place again?
Helping me to my feet she thanked me for allowing her to use her toys on me, it seemed that I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed myself! She walked me to the waiting arms of MT, a fellow sub who knew exactly what I needed as I floated back down to earth. As I became more aware of the world around me MsD came and sat next to me with SL at her feet she kicked off her shoes and he proceeded to worship her delicate feet. Before slipping into her own blissful space she suggested that I may enjoy a foot rub too. “Every woman deserves to be pampered, Domme or sub” and MT echoed this sentiment so I gave in and he slipped to sit on the floor and rubbed my feet too.
I have to admit, it was a lovely way to gently land from sub-space.
After the heartache of M and the turmoil of a big move, for both me and my children, this was a huge sign that I had been making the right decisions. Being welcomed with open arms (and toy bags) by the local fetish community was wonderful.
I could do it… I was doing it!
And as I bundled myself back into my warm outdoors clothing, in the early hours of that sunday morning, I felt another brick fall from those protective walls I had built up.
With my move imminent, and M and I back on speaking terms it was time to get ready for a new beginning.
P rolled over and accepted the move when I told him the plan, I guess he was effectively let off the hook as far as parenting went. The boys didn’t take any convincing either. They immediately liked the town and the school, the local moors and beaches were quick to capture their attention too.
I was so lucky to have my beautiful friend B on hand with sage advice.
She helped me to understand that while I loved M, if I wanted him in my life I needed to take those feelings of romantic and needy love and turn them on their head, into loving feelings of friendship. She didn’t say that it would be easy, but she showed me that it would be possible. She had experienced something similar with an incompatible ex recently and they were the best of friends.
With the boxes packed, the van filled and my keys collected M and I set off down the familiar route.
Emotionally and physically exhausted I sat next to him in the cab. He was in the driver’s seat and tunes were playing quietly through the speaker by my ear. We barely spoke on the trip, not through awkwardness or animosity, rather lost in our own thoughts. As I looked out of the window at the frozen trees as we climbed speedily through the forest I noticed the snow flakes falling and settling in small banks on the verge. In reply I began to silently weep, I don’t know why. Sadness for my lost relationship? Grief for the marriage that wasn’t meant to be? Relief at the new start? Maybe even fear?
Gathering myself before we pulled up outside my new front door I felt lighter.
Something inside me had been released on that drive, perhaps I had set myself free? And once the van was empty and the beds assembled I took M out for a carvery. A small token of my appreciation. We sat and ate far too much food, laughing together and enjoying each others company as friends.
Back in comfortable companionship. The kind that only happens when you are happy in your own self.
I was beginning to realise my value again. To not only see that I didn’t have to file down the edges of my square peg in order to fit the round hole, but to believe it independently of outside forces telling me it was so. Life had been hard at times, but I would never ever give up. The move signified a fresh start for me, a new set of choices. How would I choose to rebuild my life? A fork in the path that lay ahead.
Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it is those hours that make us who we are.
Disclaimer: This is one of the darkest times and therefore the hardest posts for me to get out of my head. I have made peace with so much of my past, but I am unhappy with my behaviour around this time. It also heralds the start of my complete emotional collapse and subsequent recovery. Needless to say I am not surprised it has taken me three weeks of procrastination to face these words.
The darkest of times were approaching, but Christmas was over and I had M home again.
I had collected him from the marina, and we had reunited physically as soon as the opportunity arose. We celebrated a joyful post-christmas with the boys and saw the new year in together. The next time I saw him, a week later, something was different. The warmth was gone, he was stiff and frosty. No matter, I thought, he must just be tired from work. My plans for a move were coming together, my work transfer was imminent and when I was home I was packing. Life was busy, but from my side life was good.
I was to work three days in Devon and stay with M for the two nights in the middle for the first 3 weeks in my new post, before I moved down with the boys.
The first week was lovely. The second week I woke up on the first night to M panting another woman’s name. It was disconcerting, and it played on my mind as the darkest hours slipped away and dawn arrived. I asked him about her over breakfast. He raged, accused me of snooping in his tablet and phone. I hadn’t, I wouldn’t, why would I have? I hadn’t fully trusted him, but I had alway thought that was because of everything I had been through with P. How could I trust anyone I was that intimate with?
After work he had calmed enough to have a decent conversation.
He told me how my accusation had made him feel, how hurt he was and how someone had snooped his phone before when he was less than trustworthy. It had made him angry to think I didn’t trust him “after all we have been through together”. I was sorry that I had made him feel like that, genuinely. My question had hurt him, come close to harming us. We went to bed, I curled up in his arms. Safe, content. Mostly….
It was a night when I could not sleep. Something wasn’t quite right…
So I got out of bed, slipped out of the room with his tablet and guessed his password. My heart in my mouth I went through it. His messaging apps had contact with women talking about intimate moments they had shared, since we had become a monogamous (at his suggestion) couple. His deleted files held pictures, more messages from women I knew, had talked with recently…
I hated myself straight away, knew that it was wrong.
I put the tablet down, went back to his arms and pondered while sleep eluded me. I now understand that we set our own bar in life, but at this point I was so beyond broken. M was my safe space and I adored him. I had broken his trust by going through his tablet, I could forgive him for his lack of honesty. My intuition had been right all along but now that I knew the truth I could let it go, we could carry on as we had been. I slept fitfully that night, the shame of what I had done will never leave me.
After a few hours of disturbed sleep I woke with M, we went about our daily business.
I returned home that night, collected my boys and put them to bed. That evening M didn’t answer the phone. The next evening he called me, asking if I had been through his tablet. Of course I lied, he hung up on me. I called him back, got a tirade of abuse all of which I had earned. He hung up on me again. A short text stating he didn’t want to talk to me. He would decide when he was ready to talk to me.
I could literally hear my heart shattering in the deafening silence that followed.
What followed was me trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart, but in the jumble of shards were piece of Ms deceit and Ps abuse. I had protected myself from the true extent of the abuse with the safety blanket of M and now I was alone to deal with all of the bad things that had happened, which were all my fault. After me breaking M’s trust and rifling through his private space the next thing that was my fault was my inadequacy as a wife. If I had been better at that he wouldn’t have abused the children, he wouldn’t have needed to rape me…
At the darkest moment my phone pinged.
It was my former manager, now training as a counsellor. A random message asking how I had been enjoying the start of 2017 so far. She was the first person I spoke to about my realisation. Very briefly I recounted how P had taken what he wanted from me while our infant slept on my chest. Two minutes later I had the rape crisis website on the thread. She wasn’t an expert in trauma (or anything at that point) but she was certain that if I called the help line I would be able to get some support. Three days later I called. I remember the gentle voice at the other end of the line even now, I spoke carefully. I didn’t think any of this was Ps fault, I knew that if I had been a better wife it wouldn’t have happened. As I was about to move counties I was given the contact details for my soon to be local support service. I emailed and waited, with instructions that I could call the national team back at any time.
M and I were soon talking again. He was to help me move, and though it was bitter-sweet I will be forever grateful for his support.
Over the months that followed I was able to turn the love that I felt for M into friendship rather than romantic attachment and I am genuinely pleased to have him as a friend and confidante. He soon got a new girlfriend, and he still hasn’t told me that it is the lady whose name he said in the middle of the night. Then again, I haven’t told him about all that I found. The months that followed were interesting, exciting and beyond scary… but those are stories for other posts. For now I am just pleased to get through this one.
On paper it should have been something to look forward to, a time to cherish with my boys. P had told me, in no uncertain terms, that when I ended things with him I had ruined Christmas for him forever. With that in mind I would “need to have the children for the big day.” No big problem, you would think, but he had always made me feel like a failure at Christmas so any joy that I may have brought from my own childhood had been reduced to zero over our marriage. The confidence I had in making it a nice day for the boys was not high. Add to that his desperately sad Facebook post on Christmas day 2015, and my eldest spent the build up to the festivities worrying about his dad.
What about M? He would be around, surely?
The plan was that he would spend Christmas eve with his mum and the day with his dad, who had just lost his wife to cancer. Then he would hot foot it up the coast to spend Christmas night and boxing day with me and the boys. I was always excited to see him, and I knew the boys would wrap him up in festive fun. M was as enthusiastic about Christmas as I was, and when he called me one lunchtime with a strained voice I knew something was up. There was an offer to join a friend of his to deliver a yacht from Portugal to the uk. He didn’t know whether he should go, or if he needed to stay and fulfill his duties as son and boyfriend. I gave him my blessing, genuinely excited by this opportunity. A little jealous perhaps, but genuinely happy for his opportunity. Once he had built up the courage to talk to his family they were all happy for him too.
As the dutiful girlfriend I drove him and his friend to the airport, dropping them in the car park before heading on my way.
One message pinged through before I was 5 miles away:
Thank you for bringing me, and being so wonderfully you. I hope you are not too sad, show me your smile. xxx
To which I responded with a quick selfie, of me trying to smile with wet eyes. I had a few hours to kill so I went on a mini adventure of my own to a nearby seaside town where I could have a cuppa and a walk on the beach. Sitting down to a steaming brew after a long cold walk I opened my phone. First thing was a message:
My beautiful girl. 🙂 Fire alarms, airport evacuated, delayed flight. Off again now. I’ll let you know when I’m safely landed. I love you xxx
Then I tapped my Facebook app as I sipped the cup of brown liquid. M had updated his profile picture. There I was! The picture I had sent him just a couple of hours ago. That put a smile on my face.
Getting home, still smiling and feeling loved, I collected the boys.
They had been with P, for their first Christmas. Hyped up, full of sugar and singing daddy’s praises I got them to bed. Two more days to the big day and they were only going to get more excitable, as children do! By Christmas eve I was feeling overwhelmed. Getting them to bed on the night before christmas was such a challenge. Then I had to organise the presents and by the time midnight slipped past I was in floods of tears. Dreading the noise and excitement of the following day, missing M, just wanting a cuddle… And to top it all off I had burnt my red cabbage trying to get ahead of the game! A game I didn’t want to play, but that I felt it was expected of me.
Surrounded by wrapping paper and piles of gifts my phone suddenly began to ring.
Through the tears and the snot I answered the phone. He was just pulling in to harbour where the two of them would be resting and collecting the third sailor for the long stretch home. He missed me and wanted to say hello as he knew how hard I would be finding the preparations. We chatted about the boat and his crew mate as well as how his journey was going so far. With his voice in my heart I slept well and woke to the excited voices of two little boys who had received a visit from father Christmas.
The day was as difficult as I had expected.
Excited children and my grumpy mum. My home filled up with my brother and his family mid-afternoon, just when all I wanted was to shut the doors and regain some calm again. More food, more gifts, more excited children. And one more phone call from M, who had spent the day trying to cook a roast dinner as they sailed across the bay of Biscay. Now they were all sat on the deck eating together, and he was in range of masts so could talk to me and the boys. Somehow that grounded me enough to get through the rest of the day until, with the boys in bed and the dishes done I was able to sit down quietly and chill out. Stretching out on the sofa I flicked on the Christmas news and saw that George Michael had died. This was all the encouragement I needed to let out the tears which I had been holding back all day.
I would like to be able to understand my son. He lives in his own magic world and sometimes I find things are lost in translation.
What is going right in my life?
A lot of things are going right at the moment. I’m getting the support I need for my son, not just from the school but healthcare professionals as well. The steps I am taking steps finding the right home for my little family seem to be in the right direction. I discovered today that I have passed my module and so I am one year closer to achieving my study aspirations.
What am I most grateful for? List 10 things.
An ability to learn.
My wonderful friends.
Sir and his ongoing tasks.
My desire to keep going…
The weather. Whatever it is I love it.
When did I experience joy this week?
When I collected my boys after their weekend away. Those hugs are always full of joy.
List a small victory/success?
I took my boys to a bouldering gym today. I had originally thought I would sit and watch them doing their thing in the kids club because I don’t have the strength to climb. Well, I decided that I would give it a go. The old me who had no confidence would have stopped there but…. Not the new me. And I surprised myself, hugely!
What is bothering me & why?
I am very lucky to have a wonderful group of close friends, and a fantastic set of friends who are less close but no less important. It is the people who sit on the edges and pretend to be friendly but are in fact unpleasant to be around. That is what bothers me. And they bother me because I can’t do anything about them. I don’t bitch or moan or gossip, but they do. I have always been a fan of the saying Keep your side of the street clean. It has got me through a lot of moments where I wanted to air my dirty laundry. But, grrrrrr…..it is so frustrating!
What are my priorities at the moment?
My number one priority is to keep my children safe and well. This includes finding a home which is right rather than a home which is just almost there. Continuing with my study and ongoing tasks rank right up there as well.
What do I love about my self?
I love the way that I am soft edges and yet firm in my approach. I am honest, caring and loving, but I don’t suffer fools gladly. Tenacity and a competitive spirit, which means I will keep going until I figure it out (whatever it is) to the best of my ability. I love that I am always learning, and this is such an important skill for me in all areas of my life. Also my eyes. I love my eyes.
Who means the world to me & why?
My children, because there is no-one else who would be able to drive me to distraction and yet give me a squidgy cuddle and the whole troubling situation is set to rights! I love them unconditionally.
I have 7 people in my most close group. They are who I call my 3am friends. Have you ever had one of those nights where the darkness is all-consuming? Since having these friends I have never needed to make that call, but I know they are there, as I am for them. This isn’t the only reason I love each and every one of them, but they know I adore them.
Sir… Sir has given me so much. For such a long time he was the candle that illuminated my world, even when he wasn’t in contact. Now he has given me the candle and I can light my own world while he is unable to do that for me. I look forward to the time I can hand it back to him. Not because I am unable to hold it for myself, but because I love the way that I can brighten his world better with both hands free.
If I could share one message with the world, what would it be?
Honesty is the best policy.
What advice would I give to my younger self?
Trust your intuition.
What lesson did I learn this week?.
If you don’t try you won’t know if you can. If you do try you may surprise yourself!
If I had all the time in the world, what would I do first?
Go for a swim in the sea.
Whats draining my energy?
Running over 20 miles a week and not fuelling up properly.
What does my ideal morning look like?
Ahhh, the boys would get ready to go when they are asked. And I would not have to stand on my doorstep waiting for them rather than losing my temper.
What does my ideal day look like?
Fresh air, open spaces and smiling children (just mine, my ideal day does not include looking after other people’s children!) It is likely there would be a picnic too, one that the boys helped me to make. Then two tired boys in bed on time so I can relax with some smut.
What makes me come alive?
Swimming in the cold sea, or spending time in wide open spaces.
What/who inspires me the most?
My children, Sir and the woman I used-to-be all inspire me to be the best I can be.
What is something I’ve always wanted but too scared to get?
The fear of not being good enough has stopped me from training for and entering a marathon and triathlon. I have a plan for the marathon, and this is tied up with a task. And I have plans afoot for tri training once I am safely through the marathon.
What is something I would love to learn?
Where would I want to live my ideal life?
I haven’t seen enough of the world to answer this one, but I know that I have never felt I have roots anywhere. Germany, Belgium, Holland and Denmark are all places that intrigue me, but that is just where I am wondering about recently.
Where would I like to travel in the next 5 years?
As above, I feel drawn to Germany, Holland, Belgium and Denmark. Really though, anywhere that I can find a cheap flight and accommodation which fits in with my children.
What can I do to take better care of myself?
I can get more sleep. I would also like to eat better.
What hobbies would I like to try?
Triathlon, boxing, wing walking (is that really a hobby?)
When have I done something that I thought I couldn’t do?
Most recently I completed two climbs at the bouldering gym, but before I went along I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to complete half of the easiest one. Over the last 4 years my world has been made up of achieving things I didn’t believe I could do. It is amazing what you can achieve when you have the right mindset, or the right person to teach you how to sail through the fog.
At the end of my life, what do I want my legacy to be?
I want people to see me as someone who had a lot of love to give out. That I was a tenacious achiever who began life as a starter and flourished as a completer. Also that I was a kind person who raised wonderful children and inspired them to be the best they can be.
This time last year I was very unwell. The darkness was almost overwhelming.
I was struggling with my depression and every day I was worried that I would lose the fight. While I picked my way through the dark times that had led me to that point (with professional support) I had the boys as a shining light to guide me back through the darkness. Mindfulness was something that wouldn’t work for me, but the Moors were a place that I could go and feel Small.
And if I was small in this vast landscape then my problems were not that big either.
If the problems weren’t big then I could get past them.
November came, with my birthday, and I reached the lowest point ever. The boys weren’t enough… I just wanted to sleep, to give up. My GP told me to go to the moor, just for a short walk, knowing it would do me good as it was one of my coping strategies. I vaguely remember arriving at Buckland beacon and sitting down on top for a rest and to take it all in, maybe do a little self tie, which often proved helpful.
It was too much.
I don’t remember how I got home, or into bed, but had I not had some rope belonging to a friend in my bag I wouldn’t have made it down safely. How could I ruin her relationship with rope? I shall be forever grateful to her for being relaxed about me returning those hanks of blood red jute-y goodness late.
As you will probably have gathered from my tor bagging adventures I spend a lot of time on the moors, but I had been actively avoiding this spot. That isn’t a hard task when you think how much space there is to roam free. On monday I was brave and ran up there, bagging another tor, well, more specifically a point of interest, for the collection.
The association is gone.
What a difference 8 months makes.
It doesn’t quite fit with where I have got to in my story, but I wanted to share this now as I was so proud of my achievement, but also I want to inspire hope. Darkness is so very difficult, but it can be overcome.
1. Who was your favorite cartoon character as a child? I always loved Dogtanian. It was one of the only cartoons I remember watching, I was usually out in the mud or chasing my brother round on my bike. He was always the quiet one, and the one who fixed things when the others were less than capable.
2. What makes you cry? I didn’t think a lot made me cry, aside from when I am very tired. But it seems that people (Sir in particular) can make me cry by showing me they have faith in me and my ability. I spend so much time working on myself and my growth that I sometimes forget A- How far I have come, and B- that other people can see it. It’s nice, and they are always happy tears. 3. What similarity between you and your significant other do you love? Oooof, I have made sure that people who are significant in my life are kind and thoughtful. I try to live my life that way and value that in others. 4. What characteristic do you admire in others that you feel you are lacking? I admire quick thinking. I am a thinker but it takes me a while to formulate my thoughts, and my comebacks are usually a bit slow. Also, it takes me a while to get a joke, unless it matches with my dry sense of humour. 5. If you could eliminate one thing from your daily schedule, what would it be? If I didn’t need to sleep I would be so much more productive!
Bonus: You can trade places with one person for a day, who would it be? I recently completed a wonderful course with my oldest son. It was all about recovering from domestic abuse, and opening up the lines of communication around healthy and safe relationships. It was such a challenging thing to do for so many reasons, but there have been so many positive outcomes for both of us. I met other mums and their children who have had similar experiences to me. One of the mums was only 6 months out of her relationship, and her three children all struggled in different ways with significant additional needs as a result of the trauma they have suffered. She was in such a state, understandably so. I would love to swap with her for a day; I think she could really use the day off!
I have decided to take part in TMI Tuesday for the first time this week. I always enjoy other people’s answers so felt it was time to join in myself.
1. What makes you, you? I am authentically me, I am brave to the point of being foolish, and I am fiercely loyal to those who deserve it. I am curious, independent and bloody minded. I am kind, thoughtful and complex. I am a confident introvert who finds people endlessly fascinating. Still waters run deep, and the calm exterior that people see hides a deep-seated vulnerability.
2. Do you care more about doing the right thing or doing things right? Oh, this is a tough one… if something is worth doing it is worth doing right, but if I am not doing the right thing in the first place then no amount of doing it right is going to make it better. So, doing the right thing in the first place is what I care most about. 3. What is sexual freedom? Do you have it? Sexual freedom is having the mental freedom to fulfill your sexual needs without worrying what other people think. Discretion where it is needed, and making sure that no-one comes to any harm are important in my sexual freedom, but yes… I believe I do have sexual freedom. 4. In your romantic relationships, is trust more important than love? I think love and trust go hand in hand when it comes to any relationship on the spectrum, from friendship through romance to D/s. I can trust people I don’t love (professional relationships for example) but I can’t love without trust. 5. Your life, is it more of a dream or a nightmare? My life is definitely a dream. Not always the best dream, but with all of the good things to think about I couldn’t ever call it a nightmare. It has never been more than I could manage, I’ve never woken up screaming!
Bonus: What is the last romantic thing you did for someone?
Oh NO! I am not a traditionally romantic person at all… I imagine that it was my most recent self-assigned stretching task for Sir: stuffing myself with as many wooden spoons as I could find (and a rolling pin) and sending him a picture. Who says romance is dead??
Up until this point my experiences had all been private.
My online presence could only be described as “lurking.” Now though I had decided to get out and about to events when I was available. My visit to the couple had been planned as a step towards this goal, and now that I knew the couple hosting a club night I felt I really wanted to attend. It was still a huge step so I found a sunday afternoon event which looked friendly. Kink and Cake was held at Studio Onyx and looked lively. Having a look at the profiles of the others listed as going I decided that I would send some messages in advance. The lady from the couple, MsD, was going to be there, and I spotted another profile where the owner had just posted a writing about his first experiences of events, making friends and finding his fit. He put some things that helped him in meeting new people, including this:
Here’s another tip… Well….I think it rings true at least… Be interesting, learn an oddball skill, find something you like and get better at it, I make whips, they aren’t too bad and I’m getting better at it and with them, but they make a great conversation starter as does so many other things!
I may not be able to make whips but I sure as hell can bake so I left a little comment thanking him for the writing and that I was going to take my own conversation starter in the form of cake. He replied later with encouragement to attend, recommending that I just be myself and people will respect that.
The next day I had a private message from him.
He had noticed that my first event would be Kink and Cake, that he would be going and that he was looking forward to meeting me. It was a friendly crowd, and they had welcomed him with open arms. All I had to do now was ask myself those two questions:
Is it safe?
Do I want to?
The answer to both was YES so now all I had to do was be brave. That sunday came round quickly, and I made a raspberry cake where the topping was made of icing sugar and raspberries blitzed together. With the ripeness of the fruit the icing was almost fluorescent pink.
If I had wanted to spark up conversation this was certainly one way to do it!
I walked in to the venue and popped my cake down on the table, suddenly there was a group of people cooing at the cake and chattering with me. The hosts made me welcome and introduced me to some people, MsD came downstairs from the playspace and introduced me to her slave SL (he quickly snaffled the first of his three slices of cake) and then the whip-maker Trautaruan (Tr) arrived with his play partner CC. There were so many people there, and everyone made me feel welcome. I chatted half of the afternoon away and ended up deep in conversation with a male sub (MT) and a foot fetishist (LTM) about bastinado. MT quite fancied learning a little more in his switch side and LTM had the skills, equipment and enthusiasm.
I had the feet so off we went upstairs, a merry trio.
LTM had a little rubber paddle and a pin wheel, and after I reclined fully clothed on a bench with my feet in some stirrups he took my right foot, showing MT how and where to hit me. They swapped back and forth with the paddle and as MT struck my left foot LTM would run the pinwheel over my right sole, stretching my toes back. They were working on my feet for what felt like half an hour and the pleasure was quite something, my body was responding in the usual way with pleasure tingles spreading like fireworks up my legs… Only this time the effort on my soles was relentless, the sensations were overwhelming and the tingles joined at my apex causing a totally unexpected orgasm.
An orgasm with no genital stimulation… I thought that was the stuff of legend….
The orgasm was a surprise and the fact that I had been fully clothed and not in a sexual situation threw me completely, would I be able to accept that I had reached orgasm through pain? I didn’t know, but at that point I decided not to think about it as it was too much of a challenge. I went back to socializing and chatting, the orgasm was a sign that I was very comfortable in the company of these new people. I had always believed I was socially inept, and during my marriage had been so isolated that I hadn’t been able to challenge myself to become confident in myself. Sir had worked hard to show me that I had every right to be confident and now, in his absence, I was able to reap the rewards of his labour. I even made plans to meet up with a couple of them at the Fetish club a couple of weeks later, and many of the people I met that day have become firm friends.
I drove home and went to the beach, where I admired my puffy soles and soaked up the early evening sunshine.
I had done it!
I had gone to my first munch, I had pushed myself hard and come out stronger.
I always knew I was different. From a young age I would enjoy being me, embracing mud over fashion, and outdoor pursuits over make up. My friends would despair, but I wasn’t worried. As puberty arrived and my friends would giggle over the latest pretty boys and heart throbs my mind was already in the gutter. I was at Bike ’97, with my brother and his friends, Dave Hemming (my hero at the tender age of 14) signed my tee-shirt, and in big black marker he drew an arrow under my ponytail and wrote “pull here”. I knew what I wanted that to mean…
This was the first time I remember my mind tripping into the gutter.
Before long I had found my brother’s stash of porn, hidden under his bed. I remember reading a number of stories, fairly uninteresting to me even then, before flicking onto one. It was about a woman who was watering her garden (naked, obviously) and had become quite excited and started to pleasure herself with the hose pipe, which was still turned on at the tap. Her next door neighbour saw this from his bedroom window, and came down to help her out. I would return to this magazine with surprising regularity until he moved away to university.
Shortly before my 16th birthday I found myself in the back of a car with a smurf between my legs.
A fancy dress Halloween party, and the first time I met this charming 20-year-old who I literally dragged to the car for my first sexual encounter with another person. He then became my boyfriend, taking so many more of my firsts… after my birthday, of course! Over the course of our 18 month relationship I embraced my sexuality, very little that he could offer was off-limits… anal soon became my favourite, and toys. The first time he took me to a sex shop I bought myself a 10″ blue rubber dildo, with a decent girth. I had to keep it in a Jaffa cake tube under my bed (lessons learnt from my brother on where to hide a sexy stash!) but it went most places with me. I was hooked. My “first love” wasn’t to last though. One evening, while we were enjoying each others bodies his phone rang, he answered and had a chat with a lady who, it turned out, he had met and slept with the night before. And so my path changed…
Broken-hearted I took my rubber cock and disappeared into the shadows…
I soon had a selection of “friends” who would satisfy my needs. I shut my heart off and focused on the pleasure I could take from them. Often fuelled by drink and other substances I partied hard, relishing my freedom. The following summer I went on a camping trip with my best friend at the time. A group of young men on the site took my fancy. She had her eye on one, and after dark would disappear with him. I took it upon myself to pleasure the others… I’d always wanted to be shared and this trip meant my fantasy could come true. Over three nights I explored and pushed myself, and on the final night I hit the jackpot…While she was in her tent with one, I was in their big tent with the other four.
They made full use of every inch of my 17-year-old body, and I loved it.
With the end of the holiday came the craving for more, more, more. I embraced hedonism, filling my dance card and playing until the sun came up. I ended up at university, having somehow gotten through my A-levels. With a new city came new men, different restraints and new realms of pleasure. Moving to a city from a small town in the countryside was wonderful, but I had thought I would find more people like me. Not just men that I could enjoy temporarily before discarding when they got too close. There was no-one on my deviant wavelength, not that I knew of anyway. I had always been different, and though I never sought to be the same as my peers I hid those differences away, wondering whether there was something wrong with me for having these desires and satisfying my lust in ways my friends never discussed.
I presented myself as the white rose, keeping the shadows out of sight.
My childfree weekend had freed me up to attend a local peer rope workshop. One tie in particular has foxed me since I took up tying and there was to be a demo that I did not want to miss. It was to be shown last, and as I made myself and my bunny a cup of tea before it started I pulled out my phone. One new email:
I felt the colour drain from my cheeks, but as I waited for the tea to brew, reading and re-reading those 4 unassuming words, my messenger pinged. I had sent him a message shortly before my first big event 16 months ago, not long after he left, and now, when I am about to learn a tie that I am desperate to master, he replies!
…back in the UK this week…I owe you an intense scene…if you want one…
If I want one…Why wouldn’t I want one? Sir….my Sir…20 months have passed and you are still in my mind.
My brain running at a million miles per hour I finished making the drinks and took them back through. My bunny noticed something was up, offered me to sit the tie out once I had explained the situation. I didn’t want to though. Rope is a place where I go when the world seems too much. And that, right then, was definitely too much. I muddled through the rest of the workshop, and got to grips with the skill I wanted to learn, bursting into the fresh air after and replying as soon as I was safely back in my car…with an oddly short message. A brief exchange and we provisionally arrange to see each other the following friday, if he can make it, and he asks what I have been up to since he went away. I promise a full reply later, but have to continue with my day.
And so it continued through the week. I filled him in with a brief summary of the last 20 months of my life (It may have taken 2 hours to type) with a small selection of pictures. There were tasks; some I could choose for myself, some he requested, all pushing me forward as had always been the way, with him knowing what I find particularly challenging but never crossing the fixed limits. It is a long time since I have raised my eyes to the ceiling and, with a grin, wondered what on earth I am doing, but as ever with him I was doing it all because I wanted to. We discuss the potential for future tasks in his absence, with him working abroad for a couple of months and only back for short periods, and with limited access to email, he is unable to make promises to me. Somehow I don’t mind, just having him back in my life is exactly what I need. I hadn’t let myself think on how much I had missed him and our dynamic, but now I can see why no-one else has come close.
And then Friday arrived, along with confirmation that he would be free and in the area.
I arrived at the hotel, prepared and excited. I collected myself outside his door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Reverie can play tricks on the mind, and I had almost hoped I would leave disappointed, say “thank you for the memories Sir, you have been wonderful but it’s time for me to move along.” But my memories were crystal clear, and our short time together was as satisfying as I those I had replayed over the interlude.
With the review sent the following day, another task followed, harder this time, always harder, and I completed it well…
Very well done N
And then he is gone again, as I knew he would be.
But unlike last time I have tasks, an ongoing connection with the man to whom I owe so much, and all I can offer in return is my submission.
This blog is my journey… how I came to this point and onwards, ever onwards.