Underestimate me at your own risk.

Don't underestimate me
Image found on Pinterest, shared by Lizardianaamalia

I love it when people underestimate me. Particularly men who tell me they are Doms.

This week saw a bizarre conversation, which felt very much like a game of cat and mouse. It is no secret I am on Fabswingers, but what may surprise you the most is why. When I first signed up it was to help with tasks. Over the years I have found the site incredibly useful for a variety of things. Some I’ve already shared on here and others are still to come. When sir has been out of the picture my account has often lain dormant. Occasionally I’ll open it up and have a look to see what is about. I mean, a girl has got to eat. Invariably there are slim pickings and so, rather than deal with the deluge of “wuu2?” and “Hi, want fun” I hide my world away again. Recently a good friend has been asking me to keep a bit of an eye out for her on there. And as my page has been available I have had lots (and lots and lots and lots) of messages. I’m rather daft, I feel duty bound to say thanks but no thanks to everyone. I will usually have a brief exchange before I tell them I will block them so I don’t distract them anymore. I like to treat people in the way that I would like to be treated myself.

Occasionally someone keeps pushing, and they truly underestimate what I am like…

Just this week I had a message from a 30 year old (too young) gym bunny (pretty boy) from london (too far away) who told me he is a Dom. (Really???) He had the usual rebuff, and continued to talk. I made all of the points around not wanting a young, pretty thing. Especially as he lives so far away. He latched onto this last point, stating that he was moving to my town the next day, and he has his own place with a Red Room. At this point I was hooked. He had put his stupid into my inbox and wanted to play with me… Perhaps I could play with him after all. His next message suggested whatsapp would be easier, sending his number. I quickly responded on the app, happy to seem desperate. I wanted to know what this silly boy wanted with me. Turned out, pretty quickly that he wanted videos. He went to great lengths to tell me he likes to make videos and he had some, if I wasn’t going to be shocked. Explaining that it takes a lot to shock me, that I have my own videos which I don’t share because I choose not to, but that if he felt the need to send some my way then I wouldn’t be offended. He did. 3 mediocre 20-40 second videos. Oddly, each one seemed to have a different cock in it… He told me to rate them. 4, with the camera work being so rubbish, but that the woman in the face fucking video seemed to have some skills. “Bring it” is the recorded voice message that pinged onto my whatsapp. “Bring what exactly?” And then I reminded him I don’t share my videos.

He’s obviously not too disappointed as next thing I know my phone is ringing…

We had a little chat, I’m looking at the lock thinking about the blog post I am trying to write… We had a pleasant conversation. He didn’t stop talking, I made occasional non-commital noises to fit in with what he was saying. Next he’s telling me he’s naked except for his black calvin kleins. He wanted to know what I would do if I was stood there in front of him. In just his black Calvin Klein boxers. I said I’d probably pop the kettle on. “no” pressing for more “what would you say?” He sounded a little disappointed at my response of asking if he’d prefer tea or coffee.

However, he was undeterred.

“I promised I wouldn’t play tonight, but here we are flirting…”

“Are we?” I asked, not knowing how he could have mistaken my occasional comments and lack of enthusiasm for flirting… Suggesting if he doesn’t want to play he shouldn’t, that it won’t bother me.

“…Yes, and I’ve got a right bell end” He sends me a picture. Turns out his Calvin Kleins were white. Again, he asks what I think. I think the fabric looks soft, but apparently that wasn’t what he meant. Next thing I know I hear a familiar gentle stroking sound, who is going to win? I wonder if he is going to beat off before I call him on his behaviour. But it is at this point he starts to tell me all about his fantasy, and the game changes…

I’ve got you on all fours, and I’m fucking you doggy style with your ankles tied together. I grab your hair so you have to look at us in the mirror and then I slap your feet.

“What? How does that even work?” I ask. I can hear his enthusiasm through the phone, but I am so confused at the physics of what he is beating off to that I have to find out what the actual fuck he is talking about. “So, you’ve got this woman in doggy style with her…”

“You, I’ve got you.”

“Right. So, hypothetically let’s say, you’ve got me in doggy style. And you’re fucking me from behind as you pull my head up and back by my hair I can see us in the mirror. How are you going to get to my feet?”

Apparently he has long legs, and would be straddling  mine. And as he was fucking me and pulling my hair up I would lift my bound ankles to his backside and he’d reach behind to slap them.

So. Many. Questions….

  • How would I be able to balance in that position?
  • How would he ensure my airway was safe for breathing if he was concentrating behind him on my feet?
  • How would he be able to administer quality blows to my soles?
  • How would he keep a rhythm up that satisfied him? (Even if my pleasure wasn’t his concern?
  • Would I have something to kneel on?

In fairness to him he did answer them. but the fapping became less vigorous with each response. Apparently he wears a tie and belt to work and his belts are all made of leather.

  • But how will you get the angle right for using a belt on my feet if you can’t even see them?

In an effort to stop me badgering him with the complexities of his proposed fantasy he lowered his voice and said:

“Sir demands that you keep eye contact with him at all times in the mirror”

At this sentence I disintegrated into fits of hysterical laughter, replying after a snort “There is only one man I have ever called Sir, and you are not Him!” The fapping had ceased altogether by this point, and I breathed in a deep breath of victory! Then I bid him a good night and hung up. A couple of minutes later he messaged hat it was a shame I hadn’t sent him a video as it would have tipped him over the edge. Given that the only person that it was a shame for was him I decided to block him.

The mouse caught a cat when he went fishing!

I’m not sharing this story because I am laughing at him. Part of me is really ashamed at my behaviour towards him. I know full well that I played a game of cat and mouse with him, and perhaps that was unfair. But there is another part of me which gets frustrated with people like him, exerting their perceived authority over the unsuspecting new submissives who are swayed by a pretty face and an overworked fantasy. I also know a number of subs who would have happily shared videos with him, and potentially he would have passed those around to others. More women still (and men actually) who take it personally when they get played with like he was trying with me. I’m quite thick skinned, and I have had a laugh at his expense. But I wanted to share to show that this does happen, that life is full of all sorts of characters and that we should just try and be aware of the twerps among us who are not what they seem.

My behaviour wasn’t big and it wasn’t clever, but if you underestimate me the end result may well be a funny story.

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Underestimate me at your own risk was first published on A Leap of Faith.

My beautiful stone fairy

Moulded and painted stone fairy for the post my beautiful stone fairy.

I could see it the first time I looked at her face. She didn’t love him, she didn’t love anyone but herself.

Not that I could say anything. Leaning on my stone toadstool clutching the flowers that would never wither. He had stopped to look at me, I had tried with all my might to flutter my eyelashes at him but I just couldn’t. My eyes locked with his and held his gaze though, as his hand reached in to grasp me on the shelf in that grubby corner of the shop. She wandered over, sneering at me and mocking him for picking up a silly garden fairy. “What on earth do you want that for? Silly piece of tat, no idea where you think it’s going to go. Not in our garden, that’s for sure.” He looked down trodden and almost broken, but I could feel his warmth through my painted alabaster dress. My lashes may have been staying put but my eyes met his confused glances each time they came my way.

He found a place for me, in the front garden, amongst the reeds of his pond.

In spite of her initial scorn she soon let go of her disgust, choosing instead to ignore my presence on her property. Over the next few years I watched them come and go, initially together but as time passed he would slope in late at night and leave early. She would spend more time home during the day, entertaining men who would turn up with bottles of wine and gifts. When they were home together I would listen to her shouting, no, screaming at him. Plates smashing, my back to the house I couldn’t see when she pushed him up against the window, holding a smashed plate to his throat. I only heard her wailing like a banshee before a low groan and a thud. Then the ambulance arrived, and the police.

He was taken away on a stretcher while she was taken in cuffs.

Seven sunsets later the gate opened and I saw him for the first time since that night. Dressings on his face, and an arm clutched across his waist. With his family for support he was well looked after while he healed. Soon he was back on his feet but a melancholy had taken over and his beautiful garden was neglected. I enjoyed watching the tadpoles grow and spring from the pond, fully grown and ready to go on their way. One knocked me so I was leaning into the lush green foliage that grew around me. The scorching summer sun reduced the water in the pond, and the reeds started to die back taking me with them. Laying back in the crispy reeds I had a different view of the world. I could no longer spy on him, watch him from afar. Baking in the afternoon sun I could hear the gate squeaking on its hinges, footsteps trudging up the overgrown path as always. I counted, it was 37 of his loping steps from gate to front door. Today he stopped at 31, turned and I heard 12 more. The final 3 came with a shadow and then, there he was. His face looming over me, hand reaching down towards me.

As those strong fingers wrapped around me our eyes locked once more.

This time my eyelashes fluttered, and his warmth seeped into me. A blink and a shake of his head, I could read those thoughts as they flashed across his face… What is going on? Am I imagining things? How…? No, it can’t be… I willed him to believe, desperate for him to see me, to touch me. What was I thinking? I couldn’t expect him to fall in love with me. “You’re just a silly stone fairy.” And as he set me back in my place I felt sadness flood the pit of my tummy. Each day from then on I would watch the sunrise, see him head off on his adventures and then return home, but now I was seeing a change. He would stop and clear a little patch of overgrown plants, starting with the weeds on the path, and working his way around the pond. He repaired the liner and refilled it, and when autumn arrived he had revived my oasis. Cracking open a bottle to toast his hard work he sat down next to me under the stars.

So close I could hear the lager bubbles rattling in his belly.

“Sounds strange” I heard him whispering “but I could swear that you’ve been watching me work.” He was talking to me, he had seen me. “I thought I was going mad, she always said you were just  silly stone fairy… But you are my beautiful stone fairy” I felt my wings start to tremble, he wasn’t looking at me but if he. Oh, if he had… “If anyone could see me now, talking to you, they would lock me up and throw away the key. I’ve often wondered if I’m mad. I felt some kind of… Oh, I don’t know… Something… You may be made of stone, but your eyes are like sparkling pools” Oh my goodness. The trembling in my wings spread south, now my tummy was turning somersaults, and my inner labia began to flutter. “I wanted to apologise for neglecting you. You brightened my world every time I saw you over the years, and I left you all alone, tumbled down in the weeds and wildlife” I was positively vibrating now, this energy….I hoped I didn’t shatter into millions of pieces “If I had one wish I’d ask for you to be real. For my eternal companion to come to life so I can look into your eyes for real” Was that a shooting star? “Well, fuck me. It’s now or never… I wish my beautiful stone fairy was not made of stone.” Draining his bottle, he stood up. One last look at me, leaning against my mushroom, our eyes meeting in the gloom. “Must be the beer, or madness setting in….” he rambled off to the house, 19 steps to the front door. He may have gone but the energy hadn’t left me. As the dew formed on my stone flowers I started to change, to grow. And as the sun climbed over the horizon I stretched my arms up and over my head, moved around my stone mushroom and sat down for the first time…ever. Gathering my knees to my chest I waited. Until he opened the front door. Our eyes locked as they had done so many times before. This time was different though. This time he reached out in disbelief, and I took his warm hand in my own. Smiling at his realisation that I was his beautiful stone fairy, that his wish could come true, I allowed him to pull me into his arms and crush me with his lips.

His beautiful stone fairy melted in his embrace.

Fairy-Folk-900x450
Image originally published as Fairy Folk and used with permission.

 

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My beautiful Stone Fairy. was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Backstage Girl

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Image from the internet

There I was, outside the door that would take me to him.

I had dreamt about this moment since he first came into my life, since the first time I was allowed to see him, albeit a photograph. Though the fantasy that I knew would never be brought to reality had been deep-rooted since my teens, being invited to one of his gigs was almost as good. I could stand in the crowd, listen to him play, watch his fingers dance over the frets knowing exactly what those fingers could do. I would mirror those fingers as I followed my instructions, to edge myself during the course of his set. I wasn’t allowed to orgasm, but he wanted to be able to find my eyes and see my heat through the crowd.

Dressed to his exacting standards I would have easy access to touch myself.

Knee length swing skirt, lacy black knickers stuffed inside (“we can’t have you dripping down your thighs N”), heels that I could stand in for the duration and a halter neck latex vest. I’d been asked to wear make up too, with lots of mascara and slut red lips, nails to match. Pushing the door to the bar open I made my way to order a drink. While waiting for service I leant forward feeling the air tickle across the back of my thighs, and the cane stripes from our scene the previous week. I felt fingers tracing a line up the sensitive flesh and gasped as he whispered in my ear “don’t turn around, remember, we don’t know each other… Just pretend I’m not here…” and as he reached over to grab the water bottle being handed over to him I felt him lift my skirt to expose my pussy to anyone who may have been stood behind us. My body flooded with the kind of heat that only comes from such erotic shame. Swollen lips pulsed around my lacy knickers and as I groaned quietly I heard him chuckle as he stepped away from me.

Shortly after that the lighting changed and the band took to the stage.

There he was, just as I had always known he would be. His energy just as powerful up on stage with his mates as it was in our time together. As the set list continued I gyrated to the music, edging but never allowing myself to crest. He knew that this was one of my favourite things in private, for solo tasks or for play, but he liked to push me, and public play was always a favourite fantasy. Now, NOW it was proving too much. Very occasionally our eyes would meet. I had rarely been allowed to look into is eyes, and now I felt so vulnerable under his gaze I could barely hold it together. Somehow I did, and as the encore finished he surreptitiously nodded to a door beside the stage, signalling  me to meet him there. Ten minutes later the door cracked open, and I crept through into the dark space beyond, not wanting to draw attention to myself. “Do you know what it did to me, watching you play with yourself tonight? I saw the pain cross your face as you stopped 8 times.” All the while he was pacing around me in the dark room, I couldn’t make out what was surrounding us, but he clearly knew the space like the back of his hand. “Slut, MY slut, come…” and he kissed me deeply before taking my hand, slowly walking me through the void as he attached cuffs at my wrists. Folding me over what felt like a large speaker he attached more cuffs at my knees, and bound it to the matching wrist. I was stuck now. on all fours over this unknown article.

He then pulled on a latex hood. It covered my nose but nothing below.

Hearing the lights click on and his footsteps return he started talking again. “A tease, that’s what you are. You now need to make amends for my discomfort tonight. You will start with my cock” and with that he rubbed his jean clad mound in my face. I could feel his thickness growing behind the thick fabric, before I could grasp the zipper between my teeth He had pulled his turgid length free. I could hear his breathing change while my mouth and tongue worked hard to please him, delighting in the pre-cum that always. Tasted. So. Sweet. Hearing his dark chuckle as he grabbed my head and started to use my throat for his pleasure.  As I gagged and drooled he pulled my head back and insisted I be more careful. He had to get back to his band mates soon after all!

I couldn’t be sure, but was that a chortle?

Slapping my cheek he lowered my head back down to his cock, pushing between my slut red lips, it was me marking him tonight. I heard him again “Go for it.” Huh? Then what sounded like a condom wrapper. Perhaps he is preparing…? As he retreated to allow me a rasping, gasping breath there was pressure at my asshole and ohhhhhhhhh, that’s-not-Sir…  I could barely register what was happening before his cock was placed at my lips, teasingly this time. My tongue reaching out to taste him. Them? There was another head there now.  I tried to concentrate on both cocks as my ass was used roughly by the first unknown man, but I felt Him shift away while the friend stepped up to take His place, gently placing his cock in my mouth and allowing me to work my magic. “Use her properly!” called the stranger behind me “Don’t waste your chance with this slut?”

“I think we should move her now” came His voice.

And with that He reached down and pulled my panties from my hot, wet hole. Swiftly replacing the second strangers cock with my soaked knickers. Listening to them talk I realised they thought I was a random slut from the crowd, desperate to be their backstage girl. As I was moved onto my back more condom wrappers were removed. He started to torture my flesh by pinching my nipples and grazing my swollen clit with those deft fingers. I was soon floating. Initially just one cock was  fucking me, then with a bit of scrambling I was enjoying double and then triple penetration. His hand never leaving my sweaty, trembling body as waves of orgasm threatened to overwhelm me.

Once the band had enjoyed me, they cleaned themselves up. 

Emptying their used condoms all over my heaving breasts, they left me to rub it in, laughing as they left. “MY slut, you did so well tonight,” hands running over my swollen, wet flesh. One hand raised cum from my chest to my lips, the other removed the hood. “Perfect” he cooed as I sucked his finger clean and looked into his eyes, black streaks running down my cheeks. It had all been part of the plan, His Master plan “MY beautiful slut”. Now I could thank him properly for making my fantasy reality.

I had been His backstage girl.

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Backstage Girl was first published on A Leap of Faith.

TMI Tuesday: 26th June 2018

aquatic black and white dolphin fun
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

1. Is your sex life more fantasy or reality?

If I have a fantasy I have been encouraged to turn it into a reality. So both, I think. When I say encouraged, I do mean I am often tasked with making them happen…

2. If you could hook-up with a past lover (with no repercussions or regret), who would it be and why? (No need to use real names just briefly describe the person and their relationship to you.)

I don’t have a past lover that I would have a bonus night with. They are all in the past for a reason. Besides, I have current lovers I wish I could spend more time with, so I shall say so long and thanks for all the fish.

3. You can only indulge in one of the following sex acts for the rest of your life, which would you choose to enjoy?
a. oral sex, only giving
b. 69
c. oral sex, only receiving
d. mutual masturbation

I love giving oral and I’m told my skills are excellent. I think mutual masturbation would work for me as a good orgasm (or the promise of one/two/three) makes me all the more attentive in my offering.

4. With each lover do you pay attention to what they want or do you have a repertoire that you stick to when having sex?

Different lovers require different skill sets. It very much depends on our dynamic, and also it depends on what tasks I am working on for Sir. I always pay attention to what they want, the dynamic dictates whether they get it or not 😉

5. Do you initiate sex for healthful benefits, e.g., to sleep better or relieve pain?

I sometimes masturbate for the mental health benefits… Well, if I needed an excuse that’s what I would say.

Bonus: Do you understand the clitoris?

I understand the science behind it, and love the way that mine works. But they are all so different!! So while I understand mine, I still get very confused with other womens’. No wonder men find it so challenging.

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TMI Tuesday: 29th May 2018

night building forest trees
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

1. If your lover was turned on by forced feminization would you participate (giving or receiving)? 

No, it’s something that would be a big turn off for me and if he was solely monogamous and needed the forced feminization it would be a deal breaker for me. However, I would happily support him in finding a lover that he could fulfill that fantasy with.

2. When you have sexual dreams or fantasies that are aggressive or cruel, does it worry you? 

No, not at all. I have been on the receiving end of cruel and aggressive behaviours, and if I fantasized about reliving them I would be concerned, but the fantasies I have which are along a similar line are most definitely not the same… If anything they are darker! But the mind is a funny thing. And as long as I am not harming anyone, including myself, then there is no problem.

3. Tell us your hottest, sexiest fantasy, right now, in 100 words or less. 
This is the fantasy about your desires that you probably never share, maybe they even go against your morals or are societal taboos.

Being bound, naked, to the ceiling above a party, with a bell in hand and a straw in my mouth. Over the evening I am made to drink a lot, and when I need to pee I ring the bell. People can move out of the way or be put underneath me by their owners. I would be being whipped sporadically by Sir, across my breasts.

4. Which super hero would you like to have sex with? Why?
a. Aquaman
b. Superman
c. Wonder Woman
d. She-Ra

I’m not knowledgeable on superheroes, but I had at least heard of three of them. So a google search later introduced me to Aquaman. The pictures which are up for the upcoming film show a man with a naked torso standing in the water. Research done! I choose Aquaman, after getting rid of the beard…. Still none the wiser about him, but it’s ok to be fickle sometimes.

aquaman-release-date-uk-aquaman-in-cinema-jason-momoa-966392

5. Do you think the lure to live out sexual fantasies or have sex frequently is amplified by technology? Briefly explain. The desire to meet new people for sex and live out my fantasies has not been amplified by technology. The ease with which I can arrange meets has changed since I have come to understand how different sites works though; as a woman on any of the sites associated with quick and easy hook ups you get bombarded with offers. I also think that these sites are a lure for men who just want to sit behind their screens and wank but have no intention of meeting. It seems to be a common frustration among friends.

Bonus: Describe your fantasy life in three (3) words.

Honest.

Fulfilling.

Secure.

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