TRUST and the catharsis of tears.

trust and tears
Photo by Kat Jayne on

Trust is the basis of everything, not just in kinky relationships but everything.

In my post Happiness is only real when shared I sent you to read a good friend of mines post on Fetlife. He spoke about the different layers of trust and his personal struggles with them. I know that not everyone is on Fetlife, but this was a post that I wanted the world to see. Well, a wider audience at least… So I asked him if I could share it here, and he has agreed that I can post his original post here.

Where would we be without trust?                                                                                          It is vitally important in all walks of life, you trust your doctor, your dentist, your mechanic, your bank, your friends, but it’s even more important in the games that we play – we trust that someone won’t bring a third-party into our play when we have expressly said not to (yes, it’s happened to me), and after all how many here would allow someone to do the things that they do without at least a modicum of trust?
And that’s the thing isn’t it.
Now I personally find it incredibly difficult to trust anyone – I know why this should be, I know where it stems from – I have spent too many years with counsellors and there is just too much in my past that influences it, I have tried not to let my past define me but in many ways haven’t been overly successful. For me trust now comes in three flavours (shall we say), there is trust, Trust and TRUST. The first, well that is just your bog standard ‘I trust that you will not fuck me over Mr Mechanic’, Trust is a step up from that and most friends are at that level, they’re the ones I would go to with personal issues and the ones who know a lot of stuff about me and I guess that for most people this what they would consider to be trust, but TRUST, that is reserved for the special ones, the people who know more still… and if you get to that final one and then betray it, well, you know.
TRUST is also the level I need before I can relax and fully immerse myself in a scene.
Several years ago Mistress Magpie wrote a piece in New Statesman about a sub she had who visited her regularly and who wanted to be spanked to tears, she mentioned how that person was incredibly stoic, and how it took time to build up mutual trust in order to fulfil that need until the day came where she broke that sub and they were indeed able to cry. This article came out around the time of 50 shades – and was written in direct response to it, it was a direct ‘this is what is wrong with everything in that film’.
Three guesses who that sub was – if you said me, then go to the top of the class.
And that is the thing, I need to be spanked/beaten/tortured to tears, I need to be broken, because there is something incredibly cathartic in those tears and god knows I need that catharsis, I need the full sobbing with snot running down and yet I can’t do it.
In scene my TRUST is broken.
Now I Trust the person that I play with, I Trust them implicitly, and I allow them to do all sorts of things to me, playing with limits, putting me through emotional torment and horrors galore and seriously head fucking me – believe me, they wouldn’t get near me with sounds if I didn’t – but Mr Stoicism, that side of me who blocks me from letting go and embracing TRUST and tears just wont back down – I can get close, I can get to the point where I THINK I am going to cry … and that’s it, nothing follows.
And this is frustrating, I find that EVERY time I play now it is almost like there is a part of me that is separate, looking on with calm dispassion, feeding me truth to dispel the things that are said in scene and thus dispelling the fear that I need and preventing me from fully letting go.
I find that I now completely disassociate from a scene.
This is what happens when TRUST is broken.
And it is being incredibly unfair on the person that I play with! She knows what I need, and she tries incredibly hard to give it, she has worked hard to improve her CP, she acts the complete bitch because she knows it gives me pleasure, she will grind heels into my flesh and torture me endlessly and she knows that I get satisfaction, pleasure and relief from seeing her … but she also knows that without the catharsis of tears (hmm, sounds like a bad novel) then I am unfulfilled. And whilst she has never said anything about that, other than on those occasions when she thought maybe she had succeeded, still I feel bad for not being able to TRUST her.
Now you could say that maybe I don’t actually need to cry anymore, that maybe that part has passed and I am on a different path now, and yes I will grant you the possibility even whilst I don’t really agree – I have my reasons for saying that. I will also grant that after last year maybe that has caused me to back away emotionally but I thought that with time and the same play partner (and off and on I have seen this person for over a year) that maybe it would return. So far there is no sign of that and so I am resigned to the possibility that, just maybe, it isn’t going to happen.
Trust, you know, it is important!

TRUST and the catharsis of tears was written and originally posted by slave lytton.

When your self esteem rises your life will follow.


With the removal of P from my home life I suddenly had some head space.

Not a huge amount, I felt guilty for moving him out and he was still asking me to deal with this, that and the other. The late night knocks on the door, the calls and the texts were not welcome… but I felt responsible for him, for his misery, for his loneliness. I may have removed his physical presence, but he wasn’t gone yet. While I supported him in his new home I had two small boys to get settled into a new way of living. They were incredible, and a source of inspiration to keep going when things were difficult. And things were very difficult at times.

Break ups are challenging at the best of times, without being told repeatedly that you aren’t good enough to cope alone.

Over the months that followed things began to change, slowly but surely, in the way that a dripping tap still fills a sink, I began to realise that. My time with Sir had started my seeds of self-confidence growing. I had been strong enough to get to this point. I could just make out some of the ways that I had changed already. Trusting my own judgement, making a plan and sticking to it, learning to ask for help when I needed it, understanding that I was worth more than being treated like dirt. However, what was becoming clear to me was that I was becoming excited about the future. It was a faint buzz rather than all out joy, I still had a lot of healing to do before I could trust that everything would be ok, but I started to make plans.

Plans for my future started taking shape.

I had enrolled on a foundation course with the Open University. I could study alongside my full-time work and the children. The course material would help with my work and in theory would tell me that I was good enough to continue onwards with my career path. I had to battle those demons, informing them almost daily that I would be able to do the work, that I was good enough… a capable and intelligent woman. At the time though I had just enough confidence in my ability to start and complete tasks that I believed I could get through the access module, at the very least. My tasks as a submissive were bearing fruit, even four months after they stopped.

My confidence in my ability as a parent improved too. 

I had felt the impact of strict boundaries and moving goal posts for many years, and seeing the confusion on my eldest’s face when he met these ever-changing rules and regulations was awful. As a submissive I had also experienced a very fair set of boundaries, knew where I could push and what the consequences would be. Operating as a single mum I could take inspiration from my other secret life and build stable foundations for my boys. Watching the boys flourish, even as they pushed back against the safety nets I had put up, filled me with pride. Watching them grow made me more aware, more present, as a parent, and that made me more capable. A positive cycle which I had learnt through Sirs example of being both patient and strict. I could do it!!

I was also coming around to the idea that I was an ok person.

I had been socially isolated throughout most of my marriage, only being allowed contact with certain permitted friends. With the removal of P from my life came a loss of most of those “friendships” I was suddenly blocked on social media, people wouldn’t answer my texts, and the ones that did would shut me down. The lies which were being spread about me were vile; friends, family and colleagues having their heads filled with nonsense. All a way for P to continue bullying me, he always played the victim card. As hard as it is to see these doors close, to feel the isolation, I soon began to see little rays of sunshine. In the place of the long-standing friendships I started to meet new people, people who fitted with my new sense of self. No longer the drinkers, pot heads and gossips… I had control over who I wanted in my world, and as much as being cut off hurt at the time this was another reason to be excited. R and M to start with soon to be joined by more along the way.

Out with the old, in with the new.


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


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.


What you allow is what will continue

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The seeds of self-worth had been planted. Sir was the cloche around them, and P was my frost.

As I continued on my journey with sir my confidence and self-esteem began to grow. I became more assertive at home, and began to stand my ground when the mocking was going on. I would ask P not to say or do certain things as I didn’t like them. He would just laugh it off, making out that it was just a joke, but before long the same “joke” would resurface. And there were lots of them to rotate through.

I started to hold my head up high, almost becoming immune to his taunts.

They still hurt but his grip on me was lessening. As I grew stronger and more confident he had to find new ways to hurt me. His bullying of the children and calling them names certainly affected me, but knowing what to do was outside of my understanding, I was no expert in these things. Plus, I had convinced myself that I would be overreacting because of my extra marital activities. How wrong I was!!

I was starting to wake up from the fog of abuse, though at the time I didn’t realise. 

When I first met Sir a condition from him was that our relationship wouldn’t have a direct impact on my marriage. Talking through the problems with him again at this point I was able to genuinely show him (and prove to myself) that I was sticking with my side of the deal. I had grown in confidence as a direct result of my time with him, but I was beginning to see things more clearly and realise that I was worth more, that the boys were suffering too. I had just about reached the end of what I could tolerate. He had a week away with work, I hoped that this would see a change in his behaviour when he got back. Time apart hopefully being a magic solution which would fix our 11 year marriage. Sadly my expectations were not met, and when he returned his demeanour had soured further. Perhaps it was the smile on my face, or the fact that our home hadn’t fallen apart in his absence, but when he came back his anger reached new levels. He would call our eldest son names, and treat him like dirt, between telling him that he was his favourite son.

The night before my birthday I told P I didn’t love him anymore. 

It had been an OK day. I had driven us over to the in-laws house, and on the way home had taken him to the supermarket to buy my birthday present. When we got there he told me he didn’t have his wallet and suggested I go in to choose and pay for my gift while I got something for dinner. And I could take the boys into the shop, he would wait in the car. When we got home he was mean to the boys, and so I did bedtime. Then I went to cook dinner while he watched a film, played a game and chatted to all of his friends on messenger and text… He came out to the kitchen to see what was happening with dinner and it just came out. I don’t love you anymore. In all honesty I had stopped loving him a long time before, even before meeting sir, but I had stopped being able to pretend that things could carry on as they were.

He refused to accept this piece of news.

As was often the way he tried to tell me

  • I was overreacting.
  • I didn’t know my own mind.
  • The boys didn’t deserve a broken home.
  • I was being selfish.
  • I was ruining his life.

Was he right? Was I making a mountain out of a molehill? I didn’t think so but after almost 12 years of negative conditioning (I have had counselling, I can see that now) I was confused. Three weeks later he became physically abusive to my youngest, just a year old. His grip on me was lessening, and so the least able to defend himself got the brunt of it…Three kicks in the face, a year old and assaulted by his father.

The anger I felt was like a cold white heat, unrecognisable from anything I had ever felt before.

It was well outside of my skill set, managing this. Hindsight tells me I should have called the police, had him removed, but my mind went into shock and I had no idea what to do next. The feelings of anger were awful, but the look on his face was worse. I didn’t know what to do or where to turn, who to ask for help. P had systematically isolated me from friends and family and I didn’t think it was fair to lump all of this on Sir (I told him the bare bones but it was my vanilla marriage and I didn’t think he was responsible for that) I spoke to my manager the following week. She suggested that he was trying to antagonise me, and that makes perfect sense….now…over 3 years later, with a healed mind and a fresh perspective, but at the time it was dark, too dark.

It took a further 8 months to get him to leave.

During this time I went to marriage counselling with him where he played the victim, I had my Facebook and main email accounts hacked (fortunately sir was on a new account) and when he finally agreed to sell the house he dug up half the lawn before the first viewing. I heard of a flat coming onto the rental market so I took him to view it, then I drove him to the estate agents to pick up the forms, helped him fill them in and drove him back with them. When he had the go ahead I helped him pack, hired a van and moved him out. The first night he had gone he asked to come back and sleep over, but that was a NO from me. I had my life back.

It wasn’t going to be smooth sailing but it was on my terms now.


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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You are confined only by the walls you build yourself.


What he asked of me next was to prove an ongoing source of worry for quite some time.

I had told him that I was straight, I felt no sexual attraction to females whatsoever. I had also told him that if something was not a hard limit I would explore my sexuality for him. So when he asked me to kiss a woman he knew exactly how hard it would be for me. Everything else he had asked of me had been fairly easy for me psychologically, but this task…..this stretched me a long way past the edge of my comfort zone. Not to my hard limits, but certainly I had to drag myself over the soft limits of my mind. I had no female friends I could ask and no idea where to start looking. There was a big brick wall ahead of me, and I had to figure out a way of climbing over.

I wanted to try, I wanted to please him and (curse my curiosity!!) I wanted to see what would happen next. 

That brick wall was high, and I couldn’t find any foot holds to start with. This was partly inexperience, but partly something that P had used against me. Any time I had refused sex with him he would accuse me of being a lesbian. What nonsense that I should allow that to hold me back. I spoke about my fears with sir and he reassured me. If I did turn out to be that way inclined what did it matter? And what does it matter what other people say anyway, especially closed-minded men who behave badly? So I kept going. I kept trying. I was close to asking him to help me, this was so hard, but I got lucky. I was a member of slimming world at the time and there was a pre-christmas food evening. The consultant was the life and soul of party time and had brought mistletoe. So I got a kiss on the lips from her. And a kiss from a man in his 60’s who thought that looked like great fun.

Purely by luck I had completed the task.

Talking things through enabled me to see where the issues lay, and sir was on hand to give me guidance and support in the next step. As I lived in a town where everyone knows if you so much as sneeze it was suggested that I cast the net a little further afield.  I set up a new email address, a fabswingers account and posted adverts on other sites. I was “considering experimentation”, not looking for anything more. My efforts mostly came up blank. Looking back now it is obvious why I had no success, I can see why experienced and passionate women wouldn’t want to play with a nervous woman who may decide it wasn’t for her. Time is precious after all, and newbies aren’t an exciting proposition when it comes to indulging your sexual desires… whatever form they may take. Still though, I kept trying. Occasionally I would make contact with a woman and have a chat. This moved on to flirting a little. It was odd to see myself stepping a little closer to the boundaries of my mind. I had self-limited for so long that now I was ready to take the plunge I was increasingly frustrated to not be able to try it, to explore a bi side which I hadn’t ever wanted to and delve deeper into my submission.

This online world of hook ups and casual encounters was odd

I had been warned to be aware of scammers which led to one of the most surreal conversations ever…. I wanted to know how I would be able to tell a scammer, and this was part of the response I got:

I asked what the website  was. It took a few replies from sir for me to get my head around the fact that it was just an example. For an intelligent woman I can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes (usually around technology, the internet fits right in with that) Fortunately, over 3 years later and I have yet to meet a scammer.

At that point though even a scammer would have been welcome.

What he was asking me to do shouldn’t have been so hard. I wasn’t shying away from working hard, it was a psychological challenge but one that I had accepted and was trying hard to fulfil. I was disappointed that I had only managed to complete my task the first time by luck, I felt I had let us both down when all I wanted to do was please him. It is only recently that I asked him if he was disappointed in me, if I had let him down. He said that I hadn’t, it was part of my journey and it was pleasing him watching me grow. I had accepted this task though and wanted to complete it properly, to the best of my ability.

Besides, just because something is hard doesn’t make it bad.


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