Trust your landmark and run through the smoke.

Lady reclining over her sofa, touching her pussy while wearing a medal from her landmark moment

This week Food For Thought Friday has asked us to think about Landmark in our lifes.

What, if any, have been your particular landmarks, either in relation to your blog or your wider life?

Do you have any future goals/landmarks you want to achieve? What are they?

I have been very quiet this month for a number of reasons. The first was my study. With the end of my module came assignment pressure and extra work took over. Alongside this life has thrown me an unwanted curve ball; managing this has taken up a lot of energy but also marks a significant shift in my wellbeing. Previously an episode like this would have floored me, but this time I have held my own… battered but not beaten. This in itself is a landmark achievement for me.

But it is not the one that I want to talk about today!

As I have mentioned previously I like to run. It was the one thing I was allowed to do for me while I was married, and after a couple of years break and significant weight gain the return of Sir heralded my return to running in January last year. Since before I met him I had the goal of wanting to run a marathon, and when he departed again in the summer he left me the task of running a marathon by the end of February. Losing him again was painful, but I had a goal. He had set me a task because he believed I could do it, even though I didn’t quite have the belief in myself. All winter I trained, loving the longer distances, the freedom of the miles, the openness of the big sky over my head. I had the race date for the start of february, a gloriously hilly first marathon. Local enough that I knew the area and could practise parts of the route. My beloved Dartmoor. Races leading up to the big day went exactly as planned. The longest run felt amazing and I could have carried on all day. I was ready! Body, mind, and soul working together.

My landmark moment had arrived.

Or so I thought. The start  of February brought snow to Dartmoor, the race was postponed. I went out for a marathon distance run that day, and ended up with an injury, catching the train home from half way. I was left feeling like I had failed Sir in my task. I wouldn’t be able to achieve the marathon I had been tasked with, I wondered why I should even bother to find another marathon seeing as I had let him down. What was the point? I had this one-sided conversation with a friend, venting my frustrations at him in text form. And as I let all the pain and frustration out my memory was jarred to Sir’s response to a task the previous summer. A plan had fallen through and I had needed to scrabble around to fulfill the brief. After everything had been sorted I had explained the level of stress which had threatened to overwhelm me, I was so upset about disappointing him when something outside of my control had happened. His response had obviously struck a chord with me:

N, you have never let me down. You always try your hardest and do everything you can to achieve my expectations, you have never let me down or disappointed me.

This exchange surfaced in my mind as I spilled the bitter disappointment at Slave Lytton. And from this came the realisation that I had not let him down at all. had been ready. had done everything possible to make sure that could complete the marathon in the time frame he had set me. Yes, I was disappointed, and I would probably always feel like I could have done more, but… those where the last whispers of depression and I had to believe in myself.

So I started hunting for a replacement race.

A marathon that I would enjoy for my first time, and one that fit into my child free weekends. And one that would allow time for my knee to recover, but without being too far away for me to lose the momentum. Finding more races to keep me inspired in the meantime, I stumbled across a marathon. A new one. Fairly hilly, well located, beautiful views, and most importantly….lots of cake for finishers! The date was set for the beginning of May. I spent the next two months rebuilding my distance and regaining my confidence. It was during this time that I realised that sir had set me this task because he knew how much I wanted to achieve it, even though I didn’t quite believe that I would be able to do it. Even as I sit here typing that I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be here, but wanted me to grow without him, to finally learn to believe in myself unequivocally, in the same way that he always had.

What a gift to leave me with?

Roll on to the start of May. I don’t know how many of you have completed a marathon, I had no idea what I would actually feel like during the race or after the race, but the entire event just blew me away. I loved it, the whole damn thing! I can’t believe that I hadn’t believed in myself all along, that I hadn’t found the courage to train for and enter a marathon before then. There were a few moments when I stopped smiling, and they were in the third quarter (I’m told this is a normal time to find it hard) when I realised that I wouldn’t be able to tell sir that I had completed his task, and to thank him for believing in me. When I finally reached that finish line I jumped for joy. My amazing friend S-W-L had driven for hours to come and cheer me across the line. I jumped for joy, and couldn’t stop babbling about how proud of myself I am. The first time I have ever felt proud of myself without first having to have someone (including myself) convince me that I should be proud.

So that is my landmark moment, and the lesson that has translated from BDSM to everyday life to allow me to achieve.

But what is next? Do you think I am going to stop there?

Nah, I don’t think I could enjoy a life without challenging goals to achieve.

To paraphrase a very important man: Set a goal, plan, achieve, take stock and set a new goal. [Repeat]

Next stop is an ultra…. watch this space!

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Check out what else is happening over at Boobday.

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Trust your landmark and run through the smoke was first published on A Leap of Faith.

T is for Traces

Lady wearing a cerise lacy bra, Framed by the fabric are traces of finger print bruises on her left breast

Sometimes I am knocked for six.

It doesn’t happen very often but occasionally my mind is completely blown.

This week saw just one such situation.

My mind and body flowing over the edge repeatedly in the hands of a friend.

Dressing today I noticed the remnants of passion. Traces of his fingers framed by my bra. Thanking him with a picture and text he was glad I like the marks but he had not intended them.

As far as traces go these are a wonderful surprise.

See what everyone else is up to for  Boobday

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Lingerie is for everyone

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T is for Traces was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Queen of the hill

On a windy day in March I met a new photographer for a test shoot. He had one idea to try and I have my Tits out tor bagging campaign to add to so we met on Hound Tor. Between the dog walkers and school children we managed to get a few shots. I love the joy on my face in this one, and the definition that is starting to show on my body.

Boobday celebrates body positivity, and I certainly felt like Queen of the Hill in this picture.

Go and see what other people are celebrating this week for Boobday
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Nothing beats a great smile.

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Recent explorations found me wearing a big smile at a busy spot, which was unusually quiet.

Though it was one of the scavenger hunt locations which seems like it should be so easy I keep seeing graffiti at the wrong time. . Either I’m with my children, there are too many people about or I am dressed in a way I can’t expose myself.

It certainly made me smile when I saw it, and with many fellow delegates struggling with con-drop I rather hope that this will lift some spirits.

See what others are up to for Boobday and Scavenger Hunt.

Scavenger hunt silver

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Nothing beats a great smile was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Setting Fire to #Boobday

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I had a visit this week from the lovely Dr Lovelace for dinner, a catch up and some fire play.

As seems to be tradition for us we both ended up topless, this time setting fire to things in my courtyard. With the sad news of Keith Flints death on Monday it seemed a fitting tribute to thank him for the quarter century of musical memories through #Boobday.

I was only ten when I heard them for the first time, my brother introduced me to the joys of muting the TV and having music on while the pictures continued. And I will always remember the time I was dragged from the mosh pit when I saw them live, P didn’t think I was able to take care of myself. Keith was on stage not far from me, I could almost feel the heat from the fire in his eyes I was so close.

Thank you Keith for stoking the fire of my hedonism all those years ago, rest easy and I’ll see you on the other side.

Hy tits banner in black and white v neck t shirt

Setting Fire to #Boobday was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Good ideas start with great coffee.

My favourite cafe.

There is nothing like a double espresso in my favourite cafe.

There is something about public exposure, and from the start of the request to “expose myself in places I could get caught while ensuring I didn’t” this was a place that I wanted to make work. This cafe serves the best espresso, and I really didn’t want to get barred. I must have tried to get this picture a dozen times but either my nerves or technique failed each time.

You see, I had to get face, breasts and background in the shot, for Him.

My heart was racing once I realised I had succeeded, what I needed was more coffee!

Check out the other contributions to Boobday, The Scavenger Hunt, and February Photofest.

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February Photofest

Good ideas start with great coffee was first published on A Leap of Faith.

In a pinch for #Boobday.

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Credit: Tony James Photography

Sometimes I need to pinch myself when I see how far I have come.

It has been a difficult journey for me to learn to love the whole me. As I have documented on here often enough I struggled with my breasts for a long time. This picture, taken in a recent shoot with the theme “Anonymous kink” shows the area I am most sensitive about in a new light. The harsh glinting metal are in such contrast to the softness of my flesh and suppleness of the skin. The pinch and pull creating a sharp angle.

This picture makes me smile.

I may not have looked twice at this were it not for the weekly meme Every Friday is Boobday. A space for owners and admirers of breasts to sing their praises.

 

Pop on over to here to see what others are up to for #Boobday, or click the lips for more beautiful pictures on February Photofest.

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February Photofest
In A Pinch For #Boobday was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Just one more thing.

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Rope by Angel666jr and location and photo credit to Urbstract Photography.

“It will be fun” he said as he took my hand, encouraging me from the bed.

“You won’t need to get dressed, just stay as you are.” Down the stairs we went, peering through sleepy eyes and feeling the cold blast of fresh morning air as he excitedly bundled me to through door. Camera bag slung over his shoulder, wonky smile caressing his lips and two thermal mugs of tea in the hand not holding mine, he’d left the car engine running when he came to rouse me. “Just get in, you’ll love it once we’re there.”

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as we crested a hill and he pulled in to a neglected gateway.

The view was beyond beautiful, and we sat for a moment. Still chilly in my long nightie and bare feet I was surprised when he hopped out of the car and ran round to open my door. “No… No, no, no, no NO!!!” But there was no dissuading him, and I reluctantly stepped from the car, again taking his hand and allowing him to lead me through a gate, under some dense bushes and up a muddy bank until… In front of me there was a derelict cottage, entirely invisible from the road. Bathed in the glow of the rising sun we sat together on the doorstep and watched the day start to unfold before us, I barely noticed the chill air, safe with his arm wrapped around my shoulders and a mug of tea in my hands.

“One more thing before we can go back to the car” he stood up and retrieved his camera bag. “I want you to see inside.” With that he was off, and I was left to follow him through the detritus of the rooms, scattered with the clutter of a life well lived. Stopping in the kitchen I was distracted by the cans and bottles, left on the shelves for nature to retrieve. Use by dates long since passed.

So absorbed I didn’t register him taking my hands behind my back, biding me, restricting me.

As he rounded me I was lifted into position under a beam covered in dusty tea towels. Kissing my neck I melted as he attached the upline to my bindings. Looking me up and down I realised he thought something was missing. Stroking  my legs he lifted my nightie up and away, before taking a rusty blade from the table and slicing the flimsy cotton fabric. As soon as he had free access he gently lifted my knee and bound it to the beam as well, those dark eyes on mine. “Higher?” is the question that fell from his lips though it wasn’t one I had the choice to answer as my planted foot and the beam took up the strain. Next my hair was tied, that tightness on my scalp intensifying the arousal spreading through me.

“One more thing…” his eyes lower now, and I noticed the blade again.

Fear rising, I flushed as he grabbed the cloth covering my breasts. I managed to breathe as I realised he just wanted me exposed. Milky white breasts on show. Whispering that I was his “ethereal beauty” he turned to leave, looking over his shoulder with a smirk (no,THAT smirk) on his lips and humour in his eyes “Don’t go anywhere” and I heard his footsteps echo through the building. In my rope bubble I was daydreaming about the lives that had been lived in this home, the peaceful meanderings of a busy brain which has been bound and set free. It was then that I noticed he had come back. What gave him away wasn’t his footsteps on the crunchy floor. No, it was the sound of his camera, the focus whizzing in the low light. Was it nearly time for breakfast I wondered as my gaze met his through the lens.

“Just one more thing…” As he placed the camera down, his lips met mine and his hand reached for the soft white flesh of my thighs…

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

This week’s prompt for Wicked Wednesday is:

If I was taking an erotic photograph of you, I would ask you to…

February Photofest

#Boobday Transmission.

It was cold, wet and windy, a foggy December evening on dartmoor.

Under the frame of the transmission tower that tops North hessary tor I asked my Dartmoor loving friend to help me add to my Tits Out Tor Bagging Collection.

As always, he was happy to oblige.

Once I dressed he decided it would be a good time to put into practise the navigational skills he had taught me earlier in the day. And so the adventure continued.

See what other people are up to for #Boobday

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And February Photofest

February Photofest

 

Your library is your paradise

Bookish Boobday

A pre-Christmas trip to the library reminded me of this picture.

With a moment’s peace I flicked through the albums of my phone to share for this weeks #Boobday and my first Scavenger hunt entry in a long time. This goes back to much earlier in the year, and a task. I had planned to visit the library and take this picture, but what I hadn’t counted on was the number of CCTV cameras in the local history section.

I can still remember how much I was absolutely buzzing after taking this picture.

Pop on over to #Boobday and The Scavenger Hunt to see what other people are up to.

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Your library is your paradise was first published on A Leap of Faith.

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