If you are too busy to laugh, you are too busy.

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A couple of weeks ago my good friend, Dr Lovelace was helping me with some tasks and we got the wax out for some extreme body writing.

I love the way the wax I poured on her back has dribbled down her sides, and the flashes of red and blue. What I enjoyed was her reaction to the wax hitting her skin. Like me she giggles with the sensation and I have never seen someone else behave the same way. What I enjoyed most was removing the wax crust when it was time to clean up, rubbing her skin down with a wooden blade and then some exfoliating gloves. Again, lots of laughter filled my house.

Next time we have other plans, I imagine I shall share those adventures here too.

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Sinful Sunday

 

When I get down on my knees, it is not to pray.

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Fresh from the bath, smooth and naked, I knelt before him in the soft light of my lounge, eyes down gazing lustily at his crotch.

I heard him shift in the sofa, felt him lift a tendril of my damp hair from my neck and trace his finger under my chin, raising my face to meet his in a passionate kiss. “I can’t” he murmured, “I’m not him, I’m not Sir.”

“I know, and I don’t want you to be,” breathing into the kiss I continued “I just want to suck your cock while I kneel here.”

He clearly hadn’t needed much persuading as, breaking away from the kiss, he unbuckled his belt, lowered his fly and shifted to release his already engorged shaft. Licking my lips I lowered my face to take him fully in my mouth, shining his length with my saliva, before lazily running my hot wet tongue over his veins in just the way that I knew he enjoyed. The growl that escaped from his lips told me everything I needed to know and my already soaked pussy began to mark my soft soles as I knelt there between his legs.

“Enough,” he said, suddenly standing up.

I was jolted from my lusty haze as he stepped past me, moving to my left and stepping out of his jeans. It took me a moment to realise that he was sliding his belt from the loops as he tidied his jeans away. There was a dark spark in his already dark brown eyes, and he gently moved me from kneeling beside the sofa to leaning forward over the cushion. “This is what you need N, I hope you’re ready,” and the first blow of his warm leather belt landed across my right cheek followed moments later by a second, this time on my left cheek. The immediate sting followed by a spreading warmth was exactly what I needed, though I hadn’t realised, and M settled into a rhythm. I could feel every millimetre of the strikes as they turned my milky white flesh a hot red.

Looking over my shoulder I could see the fire in his eyes as he embraced the savage within. 

Every swipe of the belt make my skin sting and tingle. Each blow led to more pleasure building across my skin. Twenty on each side was his limit, and he placed his weapon down next to my face as he moved behind me. On his knees behind me he buried his face between my hot cheeks, tongue desperately seeking my arousal which was leaking from between my lips and over my swollen clitoris. A hand on each cheek, kneading my tender flesh while he lapped at my sweet juices, before sliding his fingers into me and stretching my snatch wide so that he could get a proper taste. As he continued to torment my holes with his tongue and fingers I came to a shuddering climax which knocked the strength from me and left my body in a soft, trembling heap on the cushions.

“Oh no, you’re not done yet” came his tense response, “back on your knees again.”

And he helped me turn to my left, and get back onto my knees. With his hard shaft bobbing around in front of my glazed eyes I ran my tongue around his bulbous head once more. A short moan escaped his lips again as he fisted his hand in my hair, forcing my head back and my mouth fell open. As my lips parted he drove his cock into my mouth, into my throat, and as I gagged and spluttered he continued to drive into me, seeking his own release. With each stroke of his pleasure more of mine dripped from my hypersensitive cleft and I spread it over my clit and played myself to a second orgasm matching his eruption, his sticky seed spilling down my throat as I convulsed once more.

As his legs lost strength he folded down onto the sofa, pulling me up into his arms where I drifted into an untroubled sleep. 

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Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo.

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As I have said M wasn’t into D/s and power exchange, but he was fairly kinky.

There were a few things that he introduced to me which I absolutely loved.The first time he spit in my face was a surprise. Not because he had done it, I had known it was coming, but because of how much I enjoyed it. He always said that he would just get lost in my eyes, the brilliant sparkly blue gateways to my soul and it felt so depraved to have him gaze into them and, while making full use of my pussy, spit into those eyes, forcing them to close… This expansion of my kinks coincided with my youngest discovering he could spit. I have always prided myself on being a good mum, and fair. Now I was having to be hypocritical and tell him off for something that I happily enjoyed with M.

This wasn’t the only thing that I would have to teach my children not to do while embracing as part of my sex life. 

But how did I come round to enjoying the spit? It seems so degrading on the face of it, so disgusting and unloving. I had always found mouths a bit gross, and that included tongues and spit, but as with all things it is the context with which you engage in it. Had he just come up to me and flobbed in my eye I probably would have been appalled and sent him packing with his tail between his legs, but as it was we had discussed why I didn’t like mouths particularly, and over time he got me to enjoy morning breath kisses. For someone who loves ass-to-mouth it may seem strange that morning breath kisses could seem so taboo, but we are shaped by other peoples ideals as children and my mum was very much about not poking out tongues or spitting. (I dare say Ass-to-mouth would have been a big no-no, but she has never witnessed me doing that!!)

With the confidence that enjoying new experiences brings I was soon tempted to try something else that felt so very wrong…. 

My nose buried in his testicles and my tongue lapping at his anus I had an idea. Pulling back I looked at the surprise and mild disappointment on his face, then I got a load of saliva together and spat on his hole…before putting my head back down and pressing my tongue into him deeper than before. The moans that escaped him were exquisite and so arousing. The next time I spat on him he was on all fours, and I had his exposed hole in full view. His enjoyment of receiving the spit and subsequent rimming was evident when he exploded all over his bedding. I’ve never been one to waste cum, so I sucked his mess from the mattress. Again, how can it be so taboo to spit yet I think nothing of hoovering up a puddle of semen?

With his reaction to my actions I wondered what his reaction to his own spit would be like.

The next time we were together we had a very vanilla coming together. It had been a while and I had not had release so I was keen to have a second round. Laying there I spread my legs wide as he knelt between them, reached down and using my fingers I stretched my folds wide apart. As I was about to say “spit on me” I noticed his flaccid cock coming back to life. I had never considered that my spread hole would have this effect. Sir and MrN had been keen to see me continue with stretching while I was under their guidance but it was always in my mind that they would be thinking of what they could put in there, not at what the gaping hole looked like. M’s reaction caused a shift in my thoughts there… Still, I asked him to spit on me and put himself to good use, which he did twice more that evening, and we both fell asleep with daft grins.

We talked in detail about his instant raging erection. It had been as much of a surprise to him as me.

From this point it was only a short hop to him using my face, and I was very happy to experience it with him. Over this period of exploration we experimented with my gaping pussy and both of our spitting in a variety of ways. It turned out that I liked him spitting anywhere on me, but I only felt comfortable doing so on his genitals. I didn’t enjoy using his face, it just didn’t feel right to me. Maybe that is my submissive nature (using my spit for lubricant but not humiliation) or maybe it was the remnants of a slightly conservative upbringing? Either way I had learnt a lot about this new form of play with M and I was very grateful to him for being dirty and to myself for having a sense of adventure.

The look on his face at my gaping pussy will stay with me for a very long time though, and I am also pleased that he enjoyed taking pictures of it for me…

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Most of all, differences of opinion are opportunities for learning.

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M and I were getting along really well, but there was something that made him deeply uncomfortable.

He loved the fact that I enjoyed kinky sex, but my submissive nature made him a little bit cross. Power exchange was never something that I required of him, we were equals on all fronts, but on occasion I would do something that would anger him and it wasn’t until I pinned him down and demanded he talk to me about the problem that we could start to work on a solution. There was one time when he had a tight back, and as I was sat on floor by his feet I automatically went to put on his socks. I did not see that as a submissive thing, more just helping someone I cared about with something they found tricky. He snatched the socks from my hand and marched off to his bedroom to put his own socks and shoes on. Throughout my marriage behaviour like this (anger!!) would have made me quake in my boots, but I was different now, more confident, and this was M. I had no reason to fear him, though he did confuse me sometimes.

I gave him some time to calm down, and asked him why he had reacted the way he did.

It then all came tumbling out. How during our blossoming friendship he had initially enjoyed the fact that I was owned, but now that we were together he didn’t want or need that responsibility. Being my dominant was not what he had signed up for and it made him feel very uncomfortable to think I wanted him to behave that way. I had to stifle a giggle at that point, he could never have known that I did not expect or desire that from him either. So I explained to him that none of the things that I did would ever mean I wanted him to be my Sir, my owner, my dominant. He was my lover, my friend, my equal. And while I felt that a D/s relationship could include all of those 3 parts, my relationship with him did not include the power exchange and sadomasochism which I would associate with a D/s relationship.

  • This man I loved was gentle, scatty and a little bit flakey!
  • The Dominant that I loved was demanding, organised and driven.

I adored all of those things about both of them, but they were two entirely different men. And with sir away for the foreseeable future (I had no idea if I would ever see him again) I had no desire at that time to look for a similar relationship elsewhere.

This conversation marked a turning point in our relationship.

He became noticeably more relaxed, and didn’t fly off the handle when some part of my submission emerged. He tried his best to take it in the spirit I intended it, and kindly told me if something made him uncomfortable, and I tried to make sure I didn’t behave in a way that put him on edge. Not through fear of the consequences if I upset him, as I had been with P, but more out of a mutual respect for our different life experiences and expectations. By having the confidence to challenge the negative feelings brought about by our different opinions we learnt more about each other and grew as a couple.

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Then it hits you so much harder than you thought it would.

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M and I soon settled into a routine of spending the weekends together and an occasional weeknight.

With my children home much of the time and living an hours drive apart our time in each others company was somewhat limited. M had met the boys before, and they thought he was wonderful. On the weekends they were home he would come up on the saturday night and spend the sunday with us, the boys really enjoyed his company too and he was very fond of them and their characters. He didn’t have his own children, and he never tried to behave like a dad to them, but he was a positive male role model for them at a time when that was lacking from their dad, P. I also really appreciated his support when times were challenging with the boys. Someone who knew them but wasn’t directly involved, and wouldn’t tell me that I was doing it all wrong or laugh at me when I found it hard.

And things were very hard at times.

My eldest was waiting for an appointment with the autism diagnosis team. He has always been a wonderful little boy but I had known something was a little bit different from a very early age. Some of his behaviours were particularly difficult to manage, and without a diagnosis support is incredibly hard to come by. Add to that P had convinced my family that I was imagining things and there was no reason for anybody to pay attention to what I was saying. So having those strong arms to wrap me up when the job of being mum was almost overwhelming was just what I needed.

As lovers first, friends second and significant others third there was a strong bond in place already. 

As two quiet souls we enjoyed companionable silence, we also enjoyed heated debate and decent conversations. Cooking meals for each other became almost a competition, we quickly discovered that our book shelves contained some of the same recipe books so would try to better the last offering. Aside form prawns and olives we had very similar taste so it was always going to be a treat whoever cooked. As a single mum with two fussy children I had rarely had the time or inclination to cook a decadent meal for myself, and as a bachelor M had little motivation either. How things changed, along with our waistlines… It was a comfortable situation to be in, but our trousers did not offer the same comfort.

Kink wise I stepped away from the community I had started to engage with.

Not because he asked me to, on the contrary he was very supportive of me getting to munches and events. The problem came with my mindset. I did not get a large amount of child-free time, and it was certainly never something I could plan aside from the occasional weekend. I was also not used to being in a close relationship where I had freedom, where it was taken as given that I had strength and confidence. Yes, I had been owned by sir for almost 2 years, but our dynamic was not one of comfortable silences and gentle walks in the countryside; he had trained me to please him, and empowered me to start becoming a Strong Confident Woman. My brain did not compute and everything was very intense. I can see now the difference between love and attachment but at that point M and I were drowning in each other.

When the opportunities arose to spend time with M, my safe space, I jumped at them.

I was coming to the end of my counselling when we got together, but I had no idea how fragile I still was, how little of my marriage I had worked through, and how angry I was with the world around me. How angry I was with myself… All of these feelings were too raw, too big and too scary to deal with, and my friend and lover M gave me hope that the world wasn’t totally dark. At this point I believed that sir had convinced myself that sir had just wanted to get rid of me because I was a rubbish sub, I knew (without a doubt) that the problems within my marriage were my fault, and that when my children acted up it was a direct reflection of my parenting.

What a weight to be placed on one man’s shoulders?!

Particularly when he had never asked for that responsibility. He had suggested we become monogamous, he loved me as fiercely as I loved him, but it must have been hard going for him. I struggled to believe that he meant what he said, that he was actually enjoying our time together. To the world I was doing well, embracing life and moving forward, but wrapped up in the deep dark embrace of depression my world began to shrink again.

M was my bright star of hope in an otherwise dark sky. 

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Scratching an itch for #SinfulSunday

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I have an interesting relationship with pain and have found myself craving it recently.

Waiting patiently (ish) for Sir’s return.

Today my need got the better of me and searching through my box of treats I pulled out some pegs and have temporarily satisfied that hunger. 

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Sinful Sunday

 

My first time #SOSS

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I’ve been part of this wonderful world of blogging since january and often enjoyed other people’s posts around this theme, following trails of crumbs to some amazing writings and images. Then I checked back at the page and discovered why there are so many wonderful posts Sharing Our Shit on Saturdays. So I thought I would join in with some of my favourite posts from this week:

  • I spotted elust 106 on a number of blogs and am still reading through the amazing posts showcased on there. It is a monthly offering of the smartest and hottest sex bloggers, and the team works hard to bring us all the best possible compilation.
  • Reading through the masturbation monday submissions I particularly enjoyed this one from Rebels notes. Definitely my kind of dinnertime…
  • Teachers Have Sex posted this one for Wicked Wednesday, and it is by far my favourite for this week.
  • I found this post from Furcissy particularly interesting to read. It raises questions for me about sexual equality for the body positivity movement.
  • I have been brave and started to share pictures as part of #Sinfulsunday and I absolutely love this cheeky image  from Modesty Ablaze.

I hope you find something you enjoy in here, and I’m looking forward to what next week has in store.

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Try imagining a space where it’s always safe and warm.

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I received a message from M one day while I was at work.

He was listening to The Cure in his workshop and while Love Cats was playing he immediately thought of me. We had been seeing each other on occasion for quite some time, he was a firm friend and I was taken aback by his open expression of interest. We had been talking on the phone most days and he was so supportive while I was going through counselling. With the message landing in my phone our relationship developed into something else, something much more. Immediately I was on YouTube, I thought I knew the son but wasn’t sure. Listening to the lyrics I was blown away, especially when he told me the following lines were what made him think of me:

So wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully
Wonderfully pretty!
Oh you know that I’d do anything for you

That was quite a hard thing to hear at the time. It made me smile and cry, all at the same time.

I had grown so much over the two years since meeting sir, but the damaged woman who had been abused by her husband for twelve years was never far below the surface. We arranged that I would visit him the following weekend, but it was too far away. The next evening he drove up to see me and found me while I sat on the beach after my late summer swim. I can still clearly remember the feel of his warm body wrapping around me while I watched the large moon rising over the cliffs and the fire in the sky raged behind me. Looking around into his face the world felt like a nice place again. We sat on the pebbles until the sunset had completely faded from the sky, and the sea breeze was chilling the warmth that was coming from that embrace. Picking up some food on the way home and then curling up in bed together we stayed awake into the early hours.

Talking, laughing and making love, generally getting lost in each other.

It felt comfortable and loving, not anything I had really been used to before. With P I had been made to feel uncomfortable and unloved, and with Sir I had always felt accepted, safe and secure but never snuggly… and certainly not comfortable, but my comfort was never the point. Things escalated with M fairly quickly from there. He asked if I would like to be in a monogamous relationship with him, and I that felt like the right thing to do. My desire for kink was in a lull at that point, I was still sad about Sir leaving, and though I had been involving myself with the fetish community I saw myself as an owned submissive without her dominant, and playing with others held little appeal.

M and I had enjoyed a number of kinky interactions over our casual relationship, so I knew that he would be able to scratch that itch when the time came.

He wasn’t a dominant in any way though, and the whole idea of being in a relationship where power exchange played any part made him feel deeply uncomfortable. This never posed a problem for me, or us. I didn’t need to submit to anyone else; as I had said to sir when he went away I was his, I didn’t know where this new adventure with M would take me, but I was ready to embrace life again. Him getting to know my boys properly after having spoken with them occasionally on the phone, and me spending time with his family was wonderful. It felt very much like a natural progression to our relationship and also a vital step in my recovery.  My little family of three (with occasional plus one) seemed to be working very nicely, and as time passed, when M was around I had a fully fledged grown up standing with me when I needed support. The decisions I had made for the children had previously had to endure P taking the opposite route to me. The stress levels in my home decreased dramatically, particularly when, following a challenging bedtime, there was a strong pair of arms to wrap me up.

To protect me from those demons of self-doubt that threatened to overwhelm me and my parenting.

Through my personal development with sir I had learnt that I had worth, but I feared that I was unloveable. I had not been able to see it. And here was my friend, my play mate, showing me that I was very much deserving the affection I had not known was out there. I still didn’t particularly need or understand these feelings, and the fear surrounding this particular form of vulnerability would appear eventually. For now though it was a warm safe space for this particular love cat to continue growing into the woman that she had never realised she would be.

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 Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.

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The day had arrived. I was prepared, physically and mentally.

Work was done, the boys were with their dad and I was heading west for “The biggest & best Kink night in the South West !!” I was beyond nervous, but knew that if I didn’t keep pushing myself forward I would start to pull back into my shell again, like a Tortoise. I had no desire for that to happen. When I arrived in the town I ended up driving round in circles in the one way system. It took me three attempts to find the correct road and car park, but perhaps unsurprisingly I hadn’t noticed the club. fetching my rucksack from the back seat I noticed a familiar person. LTM was walking out of the car park so I hurried to catch up. He walked me round and introduced me to the friends he was meeting at the door. Joining the queue I was directly behind someone I had been chatting to about rope, with the potential for him to tie me up. He was shy so I would have to ask.

As I moved toward the door the nerves and sick feelings gave way to calm resignation.

I had arrived, the queue behind me blocked any chance of escape and beyond the door lay a new world. As the door swung open I was greeted by three familiar smiling faces plus the venue owners. I was given a locker key and directions to the changing space but I couldn’t make my way through the crush of people so I stopped to chat with MT first. As he had been there early he had managed to hire a private room, and offered me to use it to change and store my bits. Accepting his offer I got changed in privacy and comfort, gathered my thoughts, took a deep breath and stepped  out to join the tour for newcomers to the venue.

There were four floors of kink to explore, with a hot tub, sauna, steam room and showers, as well as a social space, a dark dank dungeon space, and a larger play space at the top…

The large play space had a demonstration stage and a Fucking Machine.

MsD had told me she was taking it, and I would be welcome to try…if I wanted to. Less of a request, more of a cheeky challenge.

But would I?

Could I?!

What do you think? By the time the demos had started the main space had filled up. One woman tried it briefly, then another for longer. I was watching the action from the side, wanting to go up but not wanting to… When the second lady climbed down from the stage I looked up and MsD was asking who was next. Catching her eye I was still humming and ahhing when she crooked her finger at me and smiled with eyes that said “You know you want to.” Fuelled by nothing more than Diet Coke my inhibitions melted away. I wanted to do this, and I was damn sure that I would. So with an audience I stepped up onto the stage and stripped from the waist down, got into position and settled down for another completely new experience. I giggled an awful lot, and mostly rested my face in the cushion on the stage, but being watched over by so many people was quite a thrill. With SL by my side, matching my giggles with respectful humour as his Mistress attempted to get his new friend to give in and climb off, I discovered new reserves of confidence.

I didn’t orgasm on the machine but it did wet my appetite.

I knew full well that this wasn’t going to be the last time I used one, though I had no idea when or where the next time would be. MT introduced me to his group of friends, and a little later on he had asked if I would like him to cane my feet. He wanted to show her what he could do, and he also wanted to make sure I had a good time. Of course, I agreed! And he did a very good job caning my feet solo. He also used his tawse on my soles and on the palms of my hands, which felt delicious. Tr and CC were also on hand to make my evening a great one. CC giving me advice on foot protection when the heels had to come off (pop socks) and Tr making calming conversation when I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the noise, heat and throngs of people.

That night some of my friendships within the community became established.

As the night went on I chattered to so many new people, respectfully asking about things that were going on that I had never seen before, such as needle play. Seeing the variety of outfits and implements opened my eyes to so many more possibilities. Much of what I saw that night I had seen in porn, some had been used on me in person, but to see all of these other people like me enjoying their kinks publicly was amazing. And all of the beautifully different shapes and sizes of my fellow revellers triggered a change in me. I had learnt that Sir enjoyed my body, and he had helped me to be confident in my own skin with him and myself. Now though I could see the wonderful diversity, not all the traditional beauties you would see on kink.com but so much more. Men, women and everyone in between. Outfits ranging from latex to lingerie to leather, all-black to brightly coloured.

There was space for everyone, and that included me.

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There is no one giant step that does it, it’s a lot of little steps.

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Following Kink and Cake my Fetlife profile suddenly became more interesting.

Before I had even arrived home I had received half a dozen friends requests, and as I accepted them my feed gradually took on a different feel. No longer was it littered with pictures and writings by unknown kinksters, there were now updates from people I had met, experiences that I could relate to. Over the following days I uploaded a couple of pictures of my bruised feet and had likes and comments from people I knew. My confidence was still fragile and I hadn’t quite come round to the fact that people may actually like me; this was providing more evidence to the contrary.

I had a little over two weeks to wait until the fetish night and I was starting to worry.

I had the usual butterflies chasing each other around in my belly at the thought of going somewhere new. But more than that, I also had no idea what I should be wearing, how I should behave and how I would feel faced with 70+ kinksters in a setting I had never experienced before. When I started my journey as a submissive I assumed that these kinds of events would be experienced under the supervision of Sir and his ideals would be spelled out for me. As this was not to be I had to keep pushing myself, driving forward to this monumental task of my own setting!

True to form my curiosity got the better of me.

Rather than sitting and wallowing in my doubts and fears I took to the internet. Reading the event’s page on Fetlife gave me a clue on the “rules” and reassured me that I would be safe. It also gave me an insight into WHO would be attending. I had never noticed this before, but on events there are lists of people going, maybe going and friends going. I probably hadn’t noticed this because until this point I hadn’t had any fet-friends. Now though there were 7 people going that I had already met, plus the two hosts.

So I sent a few private messages.

The first person I messaged was Tr who had decided that he would be going along with CC. They had been to events together before, and as this was the relaunch party they were happy to travel a bit further than they usually would, and spend the night in a hotel so they didn’t need to travel back the same night. I asked what they would be wearing, and was told that they would be wearing latex. We arranged to catch up in the club and I looked forward to seeing them in their outfits, but I knew that wasn’t something I would be wearing… yet.

So no outfit tips for me there but at least I would know two people. 

Next up I messaged MT, the submissive man who had flexed his switchy muscles on my feet the previous week at Kink and Cake. He really put my mind at rest in a lot of ways. His Domme was going with her husband so he would essentially be going on his own and he said that he would meet me inside the door when I arrived, he always arrived to things early so expected to be one of the first in. When I asked him what he would be wearing I was a lot less intimidated by his answer; he would be wearing smart black trousers, a smart black shirt and smart black shoes. I knew that I didn’t want to wear all black, but I knew now that I didn’t have to go all in with expensive outfits. I had no idea if I would want to attend more events in future and was reluctant to spend out a lot of money on something I would wear once.

With MT’s outfit in mind I started looking for inspiration online.

I found a number of ideas and sent the links to MT. With his help I narrowed it down to one outfit that I would be comfortable with. I wanted to check with someone on the other end of the outfit spectrum and sent the links to Tr who thought it looked a good choice. I ordered myself the corset style top and had decided I would wear black leggings and my killer heels with it.

Outfit sorted with a week to spare, next I needed to work on what I would need to take.

This was easier as I didn’t have a lot of kit. I did have a pair of carpet beaters and a little leather slapper. My children had a lot of hot wheels track so I borrowed a length of that as it was something we had been discussing at Kink and Cake as a potentially stingy pain. With my kit planned and my outfit on its way all that was left was to wait. Fortunately work and the children took up so much of my time I barely had time to worry, and when I started to fret I did something I have never associated with stress relief.

I painted my nails, toes and fingers, to match the colour of the top I would be wearing.

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My only requirement for life is that I don’t get stuck in a rut.

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Though there was sadness at not being owned, I understood and accepted the turn of events.

If wanted to make the most of my life and not be stuck at home wallowing in the what ifs I had to get going. I knew that I wasn’t looking for a new dominant, I wasn’t ready for that, but I did want to get out and meet new people, make friends with fellow kinksters who I would be able to explore with. There were events on Fetlife which interested me, but I was shy of going along on my own. I had no idea what others on the local scene would be like, or how they would react to a new female submissive entering their midst. Hindsight is a wonderful thing….

I spent a little time getting to know people on Fetlife. 

One of the first people I had been interested by was a rigger and photographer about an hours drive from me. I had liked some of his pictures, and we had been in vague contact since. He and his wife were quite well-known in their local community and were in the process of relaunching a fetish event local to them. I sent the event page a message asking about it, and wondering how safe it would be for a single submissive woman to attend on her own. As I knew no-one I was rightly nervous. I received a reply very quickly and after a little back and forth we arranged that I would go to meet the pair of them one sunday afternoon. My visit to their home would be sandwiched between her slave cleaning her home, and her son being dropped off mid afternoon.

I was nervous about meeting this couple, even though it was just for tea and a chat.

I needn’t have been though. They were so welcoming, and they made an excellent cup of tea….or should I say truth serum! As we chattered away, sharing kinky ideas and experiences, I may have let slip a few things that would bite me. She needed to go shopping, but suggested he and I have a play, as we were both getting along well. Nothing too intense, just a little fun. I thought that sounded great, and with time on my side we ran through my limits. I took my clothes off while he got some bits and pieces together, and before I knew it I was blindfolded, hooded, collared and handcuffed. Over the next hour or so, I was brought to within a moment of orgasm a number of times (NEVER mention to A Dom/me couple that you fancy more orgasm denial), made to gag and drool like a good girl, and teased with the taste of him on my lips…

Then things took a different turn

While I was seated on my bottom I was released from the cuffs, gag and collar. The jangling of metal, the snap of it around my wrists, then neck, and finally ankles…I was stuck…utterly stuck… His voice, so full of praise just minutes earlier, commanding me to roll onto all fours.

 

Images from Hogtied.com to show the device.

I’m not sure who thought it was funnier, me or Him, but I wish there had been a camera…so undignified…but entertaining those with whom I play is a thrill, and it was so much fun! A moment that will stay with me for a long time to come. Then the serious stuff came. It was time for my feet and cheeks to receive some attention. While my feet turned to tingling blocks on the ends of my legs, and my bottom started to sing with the whip, I heard another woman’s laugh, and I knew that the Mistress of the house was home, and approved of my predicament. And the biting of my soles after he had thrashed then, new realms of pleasure to explore.

How had I never known my feet were an erogenous zone, and each and every time they are battered and bruised it becomes clearer that this is the case…

When asked how I felt in that moment, bound and beaten, with my face crushed into the carpet, I responded ‘liberated.‘ I find the freedom to be me, just me, when I’m at my most vulnerable. It was such a pleasure to meet this couple, and I don’t believe I have ever tasted such a delicious cup of tea as the one I had while trembling on their comfy chair, floating back to earth through the post-play haze. With Sir and my other experiences up until this point, I had accepted that my kinks were a part of me. I felt that now I would be learning where I fit into the world of kinks.

My world was changing, and I wasn’t going to let myself get stuck again.

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I’m not afraid of storms for I am learning to sail my ship

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I was looking at the world through a new pair of eyes.

Having spent much of the last two years under the watchful gaze of Sir it was strange to see the whole kinky world opening up before me in a new way. He had helped me to see the person that I was in a positive light, a way that I was unable to during my marriage. I had begun to accept that my kinks and fantasies were safe to explore, as long as I didn’t cause any harm or upset to others. I had also had enough time to get up to mischief that I had identified risks, and as a parting gift from Sir he had given me a whole range of safety guidelines so that I was in a better position to get home safely after meeting new people.

With my restrictions lifted I was free to do as I pleased.

When sir had disappeared, due to his accident, I was unsure whether I was being tested or had been dropped like a hot potato. It was a distressing and confusing time. Coupled with the total collapse of my marriage I had no idea whether I was coming or going, and went into a spiral of self-destruction and didn’t pay much heed to my safety or who I was meeting. This time I knew that he wanted me safe and that he would be back in contact at some point. If he didn’t care even a little bit he wouldn’t have left guidelines or asked if I would like him to be in touch again; funny how it took him leaving for me to realise that he thought of me as more than just a plaything.

That realisation gave me confidence that I had been struggling with.

My confidence had been battered over the years that I was married, and over the time since I had moved my P out his behaviour had been causing a dripping tap effect. He had systematically isolated me during our marriage, except for permitted friends and family, and after I moved him out he spread all sorts of lies and nonsense to those people. I was left with no friends, bar the ones I had been making through kink, and my family put distance between us. They would say they were there for me but, it wasn’t until I discovered what stories had been made up about me that I was able to start rebuilding those family bonds. After I had approached the health visiting team and then social services over concerns for my children I had been put on the waiting list for talking therapy, to help me build up my self worth once more.

Just before sir left I had been given a date to meet a lady called Rachel.

The woman who greeted me in the waiting room was kind and accepting, but more than that…. she had an air of dominance about her; I’m not sure if it was her dress, posture or mannerisms but I felt really at ease with her.Whether she was a fellow kinkster or not, during my 18 sessions with her I felt safe to talk to her about all levels of my life, without fear of repercussions. In that little room I cried and laughed, talked and clammed up. She encouraged me to think about my life as a bowl of spaghetti, and her job was to help me straighten out the strands. All she would do is ask me questions, and I would spew the contents of my brain out. It was with her I named the relationship I had with P as abusive. I had always thought of myself as a bright woman, and didn’t understand how I could have been so stupid, so blind!

I started to learn that I was a good mum, and that I could manage life in general.

My time in that room with the incredible Rachel gave me a way of translating the strength I had found with sir in my kink life into a vanilla resilience I had never known as an adult. I learnt about my past, discovered things that made me tick at the time and planned next steps for weekly goals and longer term plans. At times I was scared of the changes I made, but for the most part I was excited to continue growing as a woman and learning to sail my own ship in my own way.

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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…

 

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