Sometimes love don’t feel like it should.

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A snapshot into my sinful Sunday last week…

Suffice to say, he broke my cane! In a most unconventional way…. More on that story when I catch up to last week in my timeline of tales, but for now I hope you enjoy the sneaky peek. I had a some messages after posting this last week, and I wanted to share that I have found that I love myself, and my many kinks. The heat of these welts and the intensity as He burnt them into my skin while dripping his cool sweat onto my singing flesh.

Yup, sometimes, sometimes love don’t feel like it should.

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Click the lips to see what everyone else is up to:

Sinful Sunday

 

Sometimes love don’t feel like it should was originally posted on A leap of faith.

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

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

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

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

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

As my name suggests I am very comfortable barefoot.

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

His toy, his plaything. 

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

And then the impact play began…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Image from Bould Whips

Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.

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I wonder how many submissives have been tasked by their dominant with anal stretching?

Both of mine required this of me during my time with them. It was a task that I relished because anal play is a particular weakness for me…. It was my first step outside of “normal” sex at the tender age of….um….16. I have always loved it, and since beginning to stretch and train in that area play has been even more satisfying. Since learning to cleanse myself the prospect of ass-to-mouth has been an achievable fantasy, and I had shared this perversion with MrN. Because I was pushing against my hard limit of scat the risk felt really taboo, but I knew that I would never have to go there if it was dirty.

So far so good, no mishaps with my cleaning routine, and a gradual increase in the depth and girth of stretch.

MrN was happy and I was happy. Things were progressing nicely. And then we both had an impromptu evening; his partner was out for the night, and my children had a surprise overnight with their dad. He asked me to be available for him at 7.30. He told me he would be pushing me further, and I should prepare myself for all eventualities. There was the problem… I was working until 6 and had an hours drive home. There would not be enough time to clean thoroughly, and doing half a job was worse than not doing it at all. After checking if there was any way out of work sooner and realising there wasn’t, I sent him a quick email outlining the problem I was facing.

His response was that if it came out dirty he expected me to clean it.

“I’m sorry but, as discussed, that is a hard limit, I will not be doing that” was pinged back immediately, and he acquiesced. If it was visibly dirty I wouldn’t need to suck it clean. There had been a brief moment when I thought I should not have said anything, just gone along with his request. But the reason I (we?) have fixed limits is because we know what we are not willing to do, under any circumstances. And making myself heard was a new skill which I had been working on, with both P and H. Now that I had enough self-confidence to speak up, I wasn’t going to stay quiet if I needed to.

The drive home was good, my mind filled with impure thoughts about the approaching session.

I still didn’t know what it was going to be: a plug? a vibrator? a selection of pens?Wondering about all of the possibilities for the evening it is amazing that I got home in one piece! After freshening up and having a quick bite to eat it was time to catch up properly. I already knew that it would be an anal training session, but I was not expecting him to request I find one thing larger than my largest plug which I would be able to insert without damaging myself. Frantically searching my home I found my way to the kitchen and rummaging through my utensil drawer I found my rolling pins. I had two, one with corners at the end, and one with curved knobbly ends. The former would damage me, if I could even get it past the entrance. The latter was a winner. I chose to sheath it because… well… health and hygiene!

My choice went down well with MrN…

…and with lube, patience and a firm hand I managed to exceed my expectations. But then came the withdrawal. Oh dear! I’m sure you don’t need me to elaborate further than it not being clean. Safe in the knowledge that I had fought my corner and I could just rip off the condom without repercussions I decided that it was now or never. And how could I say that it was a hard limit if I had never tried…. It may end up being an amazing experience, in the same way that pee play had been, maybe? With my eyes raised to the ceiling with an all too familiar smile, questioning my sanity, I did it.

I cleaned the rolling-pin!

Actually, I didn’t fully clean it, but I did enough to cement that hard limit into place. As always I had pushed myself past what I was comfortable with, exceeding my expectations and pleasing MrN in the process. He had respected me and my limits, when I had reminded him of them, I had found it in myself to try something which I had would never have done but… I’m a curious girl.

The next week P decided he needed a rolling-pin… Guess which one he took. 

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I want to say I miss you…but it wouldn’t change anything so I’ll just keep pretending I don’t.

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Not long after we met with the couple Sir had some news for me.

He would be working overseas for a few months, flying out a few days later and he would be unable to be in contact. This wasn’t a surprise to me, we had discussed his unpredictable work patterns and I was prepared. He lifted all restrictions on me and I was free to do my own thing if I chose to, or had time. With Christmas fast approaching it was unlikely I would have time to meet for a few weeks at least, but I was able to chat and make connections, fuelling my libido in his absence.

There seems to be a never-ending supply of interesting people to talk to online

This was the first time I fully immersed myself in the hook-up site I had joined earlier in the year. There was never a shortage of men who wanted to tell me what they were going to do to me. The ones who wanted to kiss me all over and lick me for hours were the worst for me; over the years I have had some curious (and fairly extreme) approaches but that particular scenario made me feel sick. And worse, the men offering such an experience would generally get angry when I turned them down.

Five weeks later I had a pleasant surprise in my inbox.

He was travelling and was able to send a quick hello, filling me in with his movements. He was due to return to the country a couple of weeks later and would be off again after a few days. I had the dates in my diary and things went to plan. As quickly as he had returned he was gone again, but a bonus meeting in the middle of this first long stint abroad was enough to make me feel special. He was expecting to be away for another month or so, and I was ready. I lived in hope that it would be less but, although the time wasn’t less, with my home-life in turmoil he was back before I knew it.

We were back in contact for a week or so, chatting about this and that…

How had I been? What had I been up to in his absence? Had I had any meets? What was happening in my marriage? My restrictions were back in place now that he had returned, and my tasks too. Body writing, video diaries, gaining confidence around women with an aim to playing further. We were in the process of coordinating our diaries when all of a sudden nothing…

Sir had vanished…

I hadn’t wanted to disturb him, using the logic that he would get in contact when it was convenient. But it was so painful. I thought I must have done something wrong, upset him somehow, that he was punishing me. About ten days after I last heard from him I sent an email putting words to my thoughts and detailing the one thing that I felt I may have done requiring this treatment. I had been chatting to Dommes, and though my restriction was no contact with male Doms maybe I had misunderstood?

Radio silence

Part of me felt naive and stupid for believing that I could be this man’s treasured possession, he seemed to have it all together and my life was just chaos. Another part of me felt that this was what I deserved, a fair punishment for whatever I had done wrong, though I knew not what that was. But the main idea that I had was that I wasn’t good enough for him and he had just got bored with trying to make me a better submissive. This tied in very nicely with the negative conditioning of my marriage and, with hindsight, it is easy to see why I felt like this. I searched google and found some interesting articles on Disappearing Dominants. Nothing really matched our dynamic but it did at least provide me with some answers that weren’t all based on my lack of self-worth so I was able to limit the self-torture that I had been so skilled at for so long within my marriage.

With a conscious effort I was able to continue building my life in the way I had begun.

He had always been so careful with my emotional well-being, surely he wouldn’t just cut and run? Maybe he had died? I couldn’t dwell though, and while I did miss him there was nothing I could do about that so I plodded on. I felt like an important part of me had been taken but time marched on and I had a husband to remove from my home, a house to sell, children to raise and a life to reconstruct.

I often wondered about him though….

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

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

There were many tasks which had an obvious reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next came the ultimate humiliation…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said that this was my birthday present

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trust, I keep you safe

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

I was very much Sir’s happy little slut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes…

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

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

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

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

It soon became apparent that he found my curiosity amusing.

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

With great knowledge comes great responsibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes N, start to grow your hair”

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

And the next task was a big push

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

What a beginning??!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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