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

Life is more fun if you play games

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“I’ve got a five-day game for you next week.”

My phone lit up again. This time with a list of items to gather up.

  • Suspender belt
  • Rope
  • Leather
  • My favourite sensual material
  • A scouring sponge
  • Tea tree oil

With just one thing missing from my list I had to go shopping. Oddly it was just the suspender belt that I needed initially. Checking in about my leather laces the following day he suggested that it may be a little too intense, best to find something a little wider.

I love to spend time wondering, trying to work things out.

Clear instructions are important, but having a little time to wonder and guess has always been something I have enjoyed. Sometimes because the nervous curiosity makes me wet. Sometimes because I can work it out immediately and feel all pleased with myself. I thought I was mostly there with this one, I thought I had worked it out, but something wasn’t figuring in my mind; the last two items.

Once I had gathered all of the list together I was told what the week would entail.

  • Monday – rope tied between my legs front to back, attached to the suspender belt. Knickers over the top.

  • Tuesday – leather attached to the suspender belt in the same way as the rope. Again with the knickers.

  • Wednesday – Sensual material attached in the same way. And knickers again.

  • Thursday A.M. Scouring sponge to be work inside my knickers, scouring side up.

  • Thursday P.M. Sponge to be soaked in Tea Tree oil, with the sponge side up this time.

  • Friday- TBC

It looked like I was going to be having a busy week!

Monday was a challenge, it took a couple of attempts to get the tension right with the rope. Every time I thought I had it the rope began to feel loose. I wondered if I should just lose the belt and use rope instead? Tension would then be maintained rather than the belt stretching. No. I would follow the instructions given, I have never been one to deviate mid task unless life changes beyond my control. I was going to be free early afternoon and sent him a message at the agreed time. “I’ll be half an hour. Keep busy, and find your two favourite toys” When that half an hour was up he messaged, I was to be naked, and ready on my bed, I confirmed that I was all set, and he said he was going to call.

“Fuck” was the silent scream in my head.

I don’t talk to many people on the phone. I don’t like my voice, and get terribly embarrassed. I also find understanding tone of voice challenging without non verbal communication. But it was too late for that now, my phone was ringing! That first call went surprisingly well. Following his instructions I edged three times and followed that up with three finger plunging, squelching orgasms. He was happy and I was sated, giddy and still trembling an hour later on the school run.

Tuesday was the leather.

I loved the way it felt, nestled between my labia. Warm and comforting. Rope is something that I automatically have a strong reaction to, but leather wasn’t far behind. My day was full, so we kept in contact through the day although conversation was limited. By the time bed time arrived my leather thong was impregnated with my scent, and I was ready for the reward on offer.

The sensual fabric was wonderful.

I had chosen a blue sparkly fabric. A little bit rough, and almost sharp in the way that it rubbed between my ever swelling and moistening lips. By the afternoon I was hungry for the phone call I guessed would be coming. This time I was to gather some pegs and a candle. Once I was naked he called, and set me to work attaching pegs to my breasts before exercising. Star jumps, touching my toes and twisting at the waist. Only one of the pegs went flying off, but it was no less painful. Attaching pegs to my labia and then passing the gentle warmth of a lit candle between my legs. Dripping some wax onto my nipples before laying down and dripping a little on my belly and inner thighs.

Then the timer started.

He told me I had 5 minutes to reach orgasm as many times as possible. The timer ticked by, but none would come. Humiliation is something I enjoy, but this was beyond that. I felt something I hadn’t experienced for a long time: shame. Why couldn’t I come, my doxy is powerful, power exchange is powerful. I reasoned with myself that the standard 17 minute rule (that’s how long it usually takes to reach climax alone) still stands. No problem, he said, I want you to have 3 before the school run. Which gave me 40 minutes. Could I orgasm? Could I hell…

One grumpy mummy at the school gate, feeling ashamed for not achieving the task she’d been set.

The following day was the sponge though. No time to think about my abject failure the previous day, my lips wrapped around the stiff sponge. Rushing from one appointment to the next, pulling my knickers up to keep the irritant in place. My clit pulsed as the sensitive skin smarted brutally. Lunchtime saw me removing the sponge and lacing it with tea tree oil. Not before taking a long inhale of the sponge which now smelt of my sticky cunt, laced with a little pee. Sitting through a long meeting through the afternoon, in close quarters with my peers I was very aware of the scent of the oil. I was the only person in the room who knew what the smell meant, the secret as arousing as the stinging oil lapping at my pussy. At tea break time I glanced at my phone Give yourself a squeeze under the table. With no table I had to improvise, and spent the second half of the afternoon pressing my thighs together in plain sight.

He was pleased with my day, but there were two surprises in store for me.

The first was that Fridays task was confirmed as No Knickers Friday.  The second was that I had done so well I was to be rewarded with 3 orgasms, to be taken before midnight, along with the 3 from Wednesday. Two restless children made this incredibly difficult, but it was with a huge amount of relief when I achieved my sixth orgasm at 11:57. Sending a smiling photo of my success, I was happy and so was he.

Waking up the following morning it soon became clear as to why I wasn’t to wear any knickers…

The exertions of Thursday, with the abrasive sponge between my lips causing irritation. I had to make sure I kept myself distracted from the discomfort. I almost broke, nearly asked if I could put some sudocreme before thinking better of it. I am a lot of things, but I’m not delicate. I wouldn’t give in that easily! He told me that permission would have been granted if I had asked, but I hadn’t and that made me proud. I had recovered a little of my self-appreciation that I had lost on the Wednesday. When he told me how pleased he was with my hard work and how I had gone above and beyond on more than one occasion that made me feel proud of myself once more.

What a week!! A true roller coaster.

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Life is more fun if you play games was first published on A Leap of Faith

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