Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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 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.


Let us stumble through the night and make friends with all the stars.


Time continued to slip past like water slips through my fingers.

After K had said she wanted to join me and Sir for a scene she had given me her email address so he could contact her. He asked that I gave her his contact details so that he would know it was her choice to contact him. As time passed he still hadn’t heard from her, and we decided that I shouldn’t remind her about it as I didn’t want to be that friend. If she wanted to join us but had lost his details then she could ask, but if she had changed her mind it would be better to not push things and pressure her.

So I kept up a search on fabswingers, for a female playmate and a woman to join us.

One of the ladies I had spoken to in my very early days on the site had been nervous about BDSM and exploring her bi side. She had never been with a woman, and had experienced dark times in her first foray into kinky sex. We had chatted for a while, and then parted company. One day I noticed B pop up in my “Last 100 people to view you” page so I thought I would say hello. I discovered that she had been thinking about the scenario again, but would be nervous about blindfolds. She would also like to have a social meet first (a new thing for her, but standard practise for me) to see if there was any attraction to me. I would be her first female playmate and she was very nervous. She seemed to be quite interested in the power exchange dynamic between myself and sir, but was clear that she wasn’t submissive at all.

We were arranging the social meet for an early summer’s evening while the boys were with their dad when B surprised me.

She said that she wanted to ask sir if he was happy for us to meet. After checking with him I put her in contact. She was clearly very careful that he would understand she was asking if I would be allowed to meet her, rather than the other way around. 

I would really like to meet with N and have my first Bi experience.
Are you happy to give N permission to meet with me? if after chatting, that is something she would like to do
I look forward to hearing from you

With his blessing we finalised plans to spend an evening getting to know each other. Both keen sea swimmers we decided to go to the beach for an evening dip, and then find a cafe for a drink. The swim was wonderful and we laughed in the waves, then, with the sea sparkling in our eyes we dried and dressed on the beach and over a hot chocolate the conversation flowed. We got on so well we decided to stay out for dinner, and there was definite spark. We swapped stories about our experiences on fab and life in general, even sharing a kiss which we both enjoyed. She commented on feeling sexual attraction towards me, and being surprised to be feeling that, and I had to agree.

We parted ways at the end of the evening, and promised to keep in touch. 

We planned to meet again soon, hopefully to play. She wanted to gain confidence again before stepping into the world of BDSM again, her experiences with Dominant men had been less than positive, but in the meantime we could both gain confidence with women. Looking back now I see that evening with B as a date. It was not just my first date with a woman, it was my first date EVER. At this point I had no idea how important this wonderful woman would become to me.

Beautiful, bonkers, and brilliant B.


A wise man’s question contains half the answer.

Sir and I got back into a routine of contact but our vanilla lives got in the way of seeing each other.  

As ever I felt that buzz whenever I got that email notification from him. With my world being so busy it was almost a relief that he did not ask me to complete tasks as often as before he went missing. There were no questions that his needs of a semi-regular scene partner matched my desire to have him back in my life but with a lack of availability. The first chance we had to meet up again fell through due to a last-minute change in his work location. The second fell through because P decided last minute that he wouldn’t be having the children as planned.

But still we forged ahead with conversation and an online companionship of sorts.

My local friendship with K was blossoming, and she would invite me to dinner on evenings when I was child free. And there were M and R who, though further away, I enjoyed spending time with too. As my confidence grew in these three friendships I would make plans, with the knowledge that they would fully understand if I needed to change my plans last-minute. That could be due to Sir becoming available, or P being a wally!

It felt very much like things were starting to fall into place in my life.

I had made friends with understanding and kinky people, and Sir was just an email away, what I was missing was real-life interaction with deviants. Not for play, but for learning about the way people enjoy the BDSM lifestyle. I find people endlessly fascinating, and this curiosity was burning away inside me. I was still on Fetlife, finding my way and making those online connections. Two people who I was in contact with were Cephelo and Eretria. They were the owners of studio onyx which is where I had played with H on a number of occasions. They hosted a number of different events, and one was happening on a weekend when the boys were staying with their dad. It was also a weekend that Sir would definitely not be free, and as ever he encouraged me to continue growing.

We had discussed the “community” when he first took me on.

He chose not to be actively involved in the community due to the number of “experts” and the associated drama. He fully supported me in finding my own way. The event I had found was a fetish party. They held it monthly at the time, and I was itching to go along and dip my toes into the wider scene. So I spoke to Sir about it, sending him the information I had available for him. We chatted about the studio and the owners, the dress code, and my nerves…. Though excited at the thought of attending I was very, very nervous. I’d been to Onyx before, but never driven myself there. I sent an email to them, asking for the postcode and directions  and while I waited for a response I decided on an outfit of sorts…

Side shot of outfit Crouching shot of outfit


I sent the pictures to Sir, expressing my worries about the party.

The outfit met with his approval, though he pointed out that I may get a little chilly. A very valid point, given the time of year particularly! He asked me two questions about the evening:

  1. Did I want to go?
  2. Would I be safe?

If the answer to both of those questions was Yes then I would have my answer. If either came back as a No then I should stay home with my back up plan: my toy box and my imagination.

I had just about convinced myself that I would go when I noticed the time.

I would need to drive for an hour to reach Onyx, and for me to reach the event in time I had to hear back with directions before the cut off time. And I didn’t.  They got back to me ten minutes past that point. Could I have gone along at that point? Probably. Did I end up just chickening out? Highly likely. Hindsight shows me that I could have called the number on their event page, but also I don’t think I was ready for a fetish party at that point. I was heartened to know that I was growing and getting braver all of the time. Planning an outfit, and asking for directions were two major steps for me. It is funny how two simple questions can have such an impact on my understanding of myself and my lifestyle, but those two questions asked by Sir have remained as clear guidelines since then.

Answering Yes to two simple questions opens so many doors.

opening doors

A wise mans question contains half the answer was originally posted on A leap of faith.

Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.


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. 


If it scares you it might be a good idea to try.


The saying “Be careful what you wish for” comes to mind as I continue on with my memories.

Actually the exact phrase that comes to mind is Be careful what videos you save to an xHamster account that you share with your Dominant, but it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. I have mentioned before that MrN wanted me to set up a shareable page on the popular porn site xHamster and that I had one already set up with videos of things I was curious about. When we had our next scheduled evening there was part of me which wished I had cleared out the account before sharing the log-in details, started with a clean slate with him. While I was trying to maintain concentration on the conversation, with a medium butt plug in place, he brought up one of the videos I had saved a while back…

It was a lady who was fisting herself, and she looked like she was really rather enjoying it.

He asked what had inspired my choosing that one, so I came clean. When I had started on my journey with Sir he had asked about fisting, and I said I would try but was scared as I didn’t think it would be possible for me. I may be a mum of two, but they were both born by caesarean! So I had taken to the internet for research and inspiration, following a trail of filth through stretching and fisting, anal fisting and rosebuds, finally ending up on self-fisting. The video I had saved (and watched over and over to make sure it was real, obviously) was of a young lady getting into an uncomfortable looking position, and actually managing to insert her whole hand into vagina. The faces she pulled while the video went on were not particularly alluring, but the fact that she could do it made me excited that one day I may be able to do that too. And if I could do it to myself…? Well, someone would be able to do it to me.

Why don’t you get started then? he asked me.

He made a very good case, I could take the time that I needed to gain flexibility and also to stretch myself. He didn’t mind if it took a while, but he would like to see that I was trying. The facts were that I had saved it myself and wanted to do it even though I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to. These made a good enough reason for him to ask. Not including his desire to watch me in my very own video for him… complete with those faces, which were unattractive to me but had the opposite effect on him.

That was all the incentive I needed.

At the time I was slim and fit, with very little excess tummy and a decent level of flexibility and strength. I worked out that if I wore my killer heels and perched on my bed the angles all made sense and I could reach where I needed to. It helps that I am partially double-jointed, the only use I have found for this oddity of my body (aside from being able to win hands-on-the-floor competitions at the pub.) Confident that I could reach I started working on stretching myself so that my hand would fit. The reading I had done focussed on fisting someone else. Did you know there is a Facebook group for fisting, complete with safety guidance and technique discussions??!! Because of the angles I wouldn’t be able to fully twist my wrist at the halfway point…

I was just going to have to work it out for myself, google just wasn’t ready for my curiosity!!

It took me a couple of weeks, with regular stretching and attempts, to get to the point where I thought it may be possible. I had been keeping MrN in the loop as per my progress, and he was encouraging in the face of my scepticism. I still didn’t believe that this would work. So I set up the camera, got my heels on and perched on the edge of my bed. Using my wand to moisten me up a little I used insertables to stretch myself open, and once I had an orgasm there seemed little else to do but go for it. I lubed my hand up and started.

Feeling the ripples from the preceding climax around my bunched up fingers was quite arousing in itself.

Getting to the knuckles I started to pull my fingers into a ball and managed a slight twist in my wrist. It had the desired effect of drawing the rest of my hand in, like a corkscrew. I was so surprised that I had managed it. And I was so full, I could feel my arousal all over my hand now, as I clamped down on myself. It is an indescribable sensation, and had I been more comfortable  I would have stayed there longer, but I was starting to get cramp in my side and had to remove my hand. Taking a deep breath and feeling my overstretched muscles return to size I was left with a sense of calm. The kind of peace that I associate with deep sexual satisfaction. And while the video was uploading for sending to MrN I enjoyed the company of my Doxy for a little longer, and floated off in my little bubble of joy.

The feeling of achieving a long-held goal is powerfully erotic for me, and knowing that I had pleased someone else as well… I was one happy submissive.


If the plan doesn’t work change the plan, but never the goal.


MrN and I had an evening scheduled in for conversation and a short scene.

As usual it had been planned the week before, he was working late and my boys were with their dad. We had tried it when they were home, but their bedtime pushed back our time for talk so everything became rushed which is never ideal. We spoke about my time with H coming to an end. He was supportive of my decision to end that play relationship and I felt less like I had been over-reacting to something small and insignificant. We also spoke about the kinky crafting I had been tasked with.

It was time to get those strings out from their hiding place. 

The four lengths of string with a loop in one end and a peg on the other were requested, as was my Doxy wand. When he told me to put the loops over my big toes (two on each side) the light dawned and I realised where the pegs were for.

Yes N, run the string up your leg and attach the peg to the lip on that side. 

So I did as he asked, and it felt wonderful…

Now, bring yourself to orgasm with your wand and as you cum for me I want you to straighten your legs and pull off the pegs.

I actually felt fear at this point. It had been a long time since I had experienced pain in this way (in any way.) Sir had used clamps on my nipples and labia. He had also made me orgasm with a wand while jiggling the clamps, and occasionally he would rip them off during my climaxes. I knew I loved the sensation, but it had been so long and I had never had to torture myself.

I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do it, I was afraid that it would hurt too much. 

After a moment’s hesitation (it felt like a lifetime!!) I applied the wand, starting with a mild vibration as I had decided to start slowly and build up intensity. MrN was happy with that too, I think he sensed the nerves in my message. No sooner had I pressed down than two of the pegs twisted apart, the other two popping off. Hmmm, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

No problem, tie some more on, try again.

So I did, and the same thing happened again! I realised that my lips must be too voluptuous for the pegs and if I was to complete this task I would have to think of something else. Looking in my box of tricks I spotted the bulldog clips. Dare I??? If the pegs had scared me imagine how I was feeling looking at those!

But I don’t like to be defeated, and I had one job to do this evening. Produce a painful orgasm.

Could I do it? Well… I could try, at least. And if it was too much I could go back to the drawing board and head to the shops the next day. I had to cut the string to remove the pegs, before tying on the clips. With the strings shorter I would be able to rip them off with more momentum, which made me feel better in a strange way.

Attaching the clips I winced, they were sooooo much tighter than the pegs. 

With the camera going I pressed the Doxy against myself once more, at a much more intense vibration. I needed to get through this as quickly as possible now, these clips would be the end of me otherwise! The pain they gave me was exquisite torture, a white-hot pain that sent pleasure across my labia… Sir had called me his pain monkey, and this act brought memories of our time together back to the forefront of my memory, intensifying the sexual energy greatly. Before I knew it I was cresting a wave of such intense pleasure that I couldn’t have kept my legs bent if I had wanted to. Stretching my legs away the bulldog clips ripped off of me, I shattered into what felt like a thousand pieces as another wave of orgasm ripped through me.

Broken by the pleasure which had enveloped me I took a while to come to my senses. 

As soon as I did I had to stop the camera, and then inspect my nether regions. In spite of the intensity of the pain everything was in the same state it had been when I attached the clips! Having sent the video over to MrN, I awaited his response. He was pleased with my efforts, which in turn made me smile.

What did I learn from this experience?

  • I learnt that I really do enjoy pain. I hadn’t come across masochist as a way of describing people (i.e. me) but the title bestowed upon me by sir in the early days was definitely fixed for me now.
  • I would push myself for someone important.
  • MrN was important. Though my mind wandering to sir half way through playing with myself was confusing.
  • I would not be indulging in bulldog clip masturbation of my own free will… No! As an act of submission inflicting the pain on myself was extremely erotic, but just because I wanted to get my kicks…? I felt that it could become an unhealthy outlet.

Not a bad set of learning points for an evening of play.

Related image

Beyond a certain point the whole universe becomes a continuous process of initiation.


It was soon time to meet with H again.

We had been in regular contact over the two weeks since we went out for dinner, we had discussed my likes, concerns and boundaries. I had asked questions which had been answered openly and easily. He had hired a play space for the evening, and we had arranged that he would pick me up from a service station and drive up together. That would mean I could relax and we could chat easily about any last-minute worries.

I was safer than at my previous encounter but I still had a lot to figure out!

He had already given me his telephone number and car registration, I even knew where he worked. At the time I didn’t have anyone I could tell where I was going, or what I was doing, but he didn’t know that, and I felt safe in his company, comfortable and relaxed on the drive up. When we arrived at the studio I was introduced to the owner who gave me a tour. I made a cup of tea and wandered around the rooms taking it all in. This was my first visit to an official dungeon, and I was surprised at all of the toys on display, the ropes and equipment. It also was clean, light and airy… Not what I had been expecting. The play space upstairs was well equipped, and the area downstairs was comfortable and relaxed. Drinking my tea, H went upstairs to organise the things that he had brought, before coming back down for me. Then it was my turn…

H bustled down the stairs and ushered me up them ahead of him. 

I took my clothes off, as we had discussed, and I was directed to the spanking bench which I folded myself over and the spanking began. With my behind nice and warm H tried out his belt and then his cane. I was more than comfortable to continue, his technique felt good and even, and he checked in regularly. It was our first time playing together, and I was unsurprised that he was gentle at this stage, I wasn’t stretched or outside of my comfort zone. So we changed equipment, and I offered up my feet for him to cane. This was what I had come for, the reason we had started talking. To say I was excited about this part of our session would be an understatement, but I was also a little nervous.

I needn’t have worried about how things would progress.

As H had been gentle on my backside, an area which was an established pleasure zone for me during impact play, it followed suit that he would not push me when he started work on my feet. He wouldn’t want to scare me off after all! I enjoyed the sensations a great deal, when I had used the spoon on my soles I had felt a nice tingly pleasure over my feet with each sting. As the cane strokes fell on that evening the tingling spread up my calves, it was altogether pleasant and I was a happy lady. I knew that this would be an area that I could push myself in, I would love to find out how far those tingles would spread. With H satisfied with his foot caning we changed equipment again. and while I lay down he produced a Lelo wand and used it on me until I reached orgasm, and that was the end of our play session.

I dressed and we tidied up the play space before going downstairs again.

Once there he handed me the wand, telling me that he had bought it for me that day, that it was top of the range and I should really enjoy it. Then he pulled out a selection of sandwiches, drinks and biscuits, insisting that I eat…once again he didn’t… but we had a nice chat about the space, what we had both enjoyed and what could be different another time.  As long as he was happy I knew there would be another time as I was curious about whether I could take more, and whether he could give more. And he was happy with that, though I did ask him not to bring me prawn sandwiches again, as prawns are a hard limit and I did not want to offend him by not eating them.

A small thing I know, but he was happy with my request. 

Following a brief chat with the owner, and making sure that everything was as I had found it, we were on our way again, back to the service station where my car was parked, and then off to our separate homes. I was armed with my new toy, and my brain was whirring around with the possibilities for a future session with H. I knew I would have to get used to a different style and not compare H to sir; try to forget the intensity from before and enjoy H and his foot fetish for what they were.

My initiation into Bastinado had begun in earnest.



Humanity was drawn to turmoil and self-destruction as inevitably as the earth was drawn to complete its annual revolution of the sun


I had read about sub frenzy in the early days of my research.

My understanding was that it affected new subs in their early days, wanting to try anything and everything as soon as possible. Under the strict care of Sir I had sidestepped this phenomenon. My hand had been held while I went through that phase in my earliest explorations. Now though, with this big wide world to explore, I had all of the self-confidence to try new things, but lacked a certain amount of self-respect to go with it.

As a result I got myself into some situations which were less than ideal. 

The first risky scenario I found myself in was with a man I met on Alt, having joined after a couple of months without contact with sir. I still recall his handle on there, and I cringe at my naivety now. Or perhaps naivety is the wrong word? Maybe I was hell-bent on self-destruction at this point, choosing to meet with someone who showed signs of being unsafe? There was a lot of sadness and a general feeling of being lost and worthless. Why should I take proper care of myself? No-one would miss me anyway.

Hmmm…. I’m glad I’m not that woman anymore! 

Anyway, I started talking to this man, A, on Alt, later switching to email. In our conversations he seemed quite normal, friendly and kind. We arranged that I would visit his office one friday afternoon, I would travel to him after I finished work at 1.30. It was early summer, and the drive should have taken about 45 minutes. Only there was a crash, and so it took me 2 hours, and then I couldn’t find his office. It was on a dairy farm up a narrow lane outside of a town I knew fairly well.

Not in the town as I had originally thought.

We had discussed a “job interview” type scenario, and I would be in his office while his employees were hard at work in the main office just the other side of the door. Well, I pulled up in my car, and there was just one car in the parking area. ONE. Something wasn’t quite right about that, bearing in  mind I was in the middle of nowhere arriving at a supposedly busy office. But he was at the door, waiting for me. Smiling, friendly, actually he looked as normal as he had seemed on the site. After my long drive I needed to use his toilet, when I came out he offered me a drink and then sent me through to his office while he made my cup of tea. Walking through the main office I looked forward to a nice hot cuppa, barely registering that it was empty. I saw his desk and sat down in the chair in front of it. He appeared with the drinks and it started

“Who told you that you could sit down?”

Oops, I hadn’t been thinking! He made me stand against the wall, turn to face it and lift my skirt above my backside. After a harsh bare-handed spanking (my least favourite technique for a tanned behind) he played with my pussy. I was by this point wondering what the f*ck I was doing there, regretting my hasty meet up. The fear and the spanking had made me wet, and after he shoved his fingers in my mouth to clean my mess off of his hand he unbuckled his belt, sat down and got me to take him in my mouth. Then he wanted me to ride him, in his office chair. As quickly as it started he was finished.

And we sat down on opposite sides of the desk to drink our cups of tea, which were still too hot. 

A was actually a very nice man, and we chatted for about half an hour before I went on my way again, no plans to remain in contact. It was with surprise when he tracked me down on Fetlife a couple of months later I’ve found you little one and I did receive an email from him this Christmas asking how I am and would I like to meet him again.

Eighteen months after a single, brief session…?

I was a silly girl who had gotten off very lightly, all things considered. He didn’t make me do anything I wouldn’t have done anyway, though the experience did make me consider how lucky I was, and how things could have gone so horribly wrong. A mistake, maybe. But a valuable lesson for me. It was the first time I had raised my eyes to the ceiling and asked myself what on earth I was doing, without a smile on my face.

I did not want to do that again…I knew that much.


I really respond to putting myself out of my own depth and finding my feet.


There is something which was of interest to me, something I wanted to learn more about and I definitely wanted to try it.


I had seen clips of it in a large number of porn movies, and I was curious about it, but I had no idea how to get started. For the first time in my journey I was stepping into unknown territory without an experienced hand to guide me, or discuss possibilities with. So I found some groups on Fetlife and got chatting with a number of people. It seems that there is a shortage of female submissives who are interested in having their feet caned! I could not think why; I had grown up walking barefoot on shingle beaches, sometimes for miles and once shredding my soles.

It had always had the effect of making me feel alive, invigorated. 

With a gap in the market I was inundated with offers for play with “experienced” men, many of whom were across oceans. I was always polite in my rejections, pointing out that it was unrealistic to pursue play relationships with them, and am still in contact with some of them. It is always nice to see what people are getting up to when they pop up on my newsfeed. There was one person who was fairly local, had a full profile and checked out well. H was very open about the fact that feet and foot caning were his main fetishes and he had not met anyone locally who could endure this kind of play, let alone enjoy it.

We agreed to meet up for dinner the following week, and I continued with my research. 

H had labelled himself as a sadist, but all of his pictures were of smiling bottoms. I did a bit a digging about him, because there is no point being part of a community if you don’t use it, he came up in a positive light even if he was a bit of a player… but that didn’t matter because I wasn’t looking for a new Dominant, just a mutually beneficial friendship. So we met up in the town I had suggested, and then struggled to find somewhere to eat due to it being the local beer festival the following day. We finally found a pub which had space for us. He turned out to be a feeder, ordering soup while I ordered lasagne. He barely touched the soup, but made sure I finished all of my meal. Over this peculiar mealtime we chatted, and he was very good company. He had interesting stories to tell about his upbringing and what brought him to the world of kink. He was married to a vanilla wife, and they lived separate lives. He had a submissive who had a boyfriend. It was clear to me that he wanted the same thing as me, friendship and foot caning.

The perfect way to start mending my broken kinky heart.

We agreed to meet up a couple of weeks later, and he asked me to try out using a wooden spoon on my feet in the meantime. And so it began, I was finding my feet, and learning more about myself. My task was to spank the soles of my feet ten times each, at a medium intensity. I did this one night after the boys were in bed and P was at work on a night shift, it meant that I could take my time to endure or enjoy, whichever it would be. What a sensation?! A little bit of a sting, but I was not expecting a funny pins-and-needles type feeling to spread over my soles. I realised that I was definitely going to fall in the enjoy group for bastinado. Next he suggested I stand on my door mat, bare foot, for a period of ten minutes. It was easy so I stayed longer, seeing if it would get uncomfortable (it didn’t). After reporting back to him he replied that he was very pleased with my level of submission, and that I was very close to the level he would want me to be at. This was a surprise as I had no feelings of submission towards him just a sense of exploration and adventure, but it had a healing effect on me.

Maybe I wasn’t a bad submissive after all.


Some days there won’t be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.


Nothing could have prepared me for the sense of loss and abandonment that I felt.

It is hard remembering how difficult I found the first few weeks. I had given part of me to this man and then he left, taking that part with him. Aside from sending him the email I didn’t really know what to do, so I continued with my rules and tasks. I can see how that may read to others; why would I keep on when he had vanished? Honestly, it makes little sense, even now, except that I was floundering, I had no idea how to transition back to “normal”, or if he would pop up and say it was a test and I should have carried on, or…. At the time I needed the routine of the tasks, looking back I’m so pleased I kept on.

If I hadn’t kept on I would never have met E.

I had told him early on that I was curious about being bi-curious, and I would never have had the courage to explore that side of me without those tasks. I had been building in confidence, flirting and had even scened with another woman and her husband. When I started talking to E she was a breath of fresh air. Her fabswingers profile stated she was a highly sexed lesbian looking for no strings fun. About 5 weeks after sir went P was working nights, and the boys were in bed… E arrived at my door. She was 6 feet tall, slim, blonde and giddy. She had brought a bottle of wine with her, and a bag of toys. She knew that I was very inexperienced but keen, and she was excited to be playing with me.

A couple of glasses of wine later and the exploration began in earnest.

She was very caring and gentle, she was also very appreciative of my efforts. E shared her love of oral, scissoring and a strap-on. She was very attentive with her mouth, and when we swapped she was clean and smooth, not scented with urine which was a step up from the last time. I decided then that I only wanted to go down on smooth women. Scissoring was something I had never come across before, it was clumsy and awkward and I still don’t understand how it works in a pleasurable way. Now, the strap on was something different for me too. I had never seen one before and had no idea what they were meant to look like or feel like. The one that she brought (and enjoyed) was, I believe, a vibrator sheath attachment for the harness. It didn’t enter me and I found it a little disappointing, I wondered why people would rather this than a beautiful cock. She went wild though, loving every minute that it slid over her. I have since googled and seen in person other strap-ons, and I would love to try it again, with a woman who is less vanilla. And maybe with less wine!

When she left to go home I was so proud of myself.

I had pushed through a boundary and enjoyed myself. With a willing partner I had explored new areas and tried new toys. I was still stuck with the thought that this must mean I am a lesbian, that perhaps P had been right all along, that the reason I hadn’t wanted sex with him was because I wanted to sleep with women. And I didn’t have the option of contacting sir, to tell him all about it. I had always been asked for reviews after each scene or challenging task, not only did it give him feedback on my thoughts and feelings, but it was also a positive thing for me to reflect and digest what had happened.

Now though, I didn’t have that outlet, that form of after-care if you like. 

This was an important learning point for me. That I would need to figure out a new way to process my wandering mind after new experiences and intense sessions. I’m nothing if not tenacious so this was a welcome puzzle for me, a distraction from what else had been going on in my life at the time. I just had to figure out how to embrace this new world on my terms, without an abusive husband calling the shots or my Dominant guiding the way. The first one I couldn’t wait to see the back of, and the other, Sir, I missed with every aching ounce of my being.

My mind was working again, and I was setting the rules. Maybe it wasn’t all bad…


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.


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


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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