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.

Those who fear muddy feet will never discover new paths.

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“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

Painting the picture of my day it was clear that I had a couple of hours free before the school run. A window of opportunity where you could play with me, push me, see what I was made of. The anticipation bubbled away as I made my way through my tasks for the morning, counting down to the arranged time. You had told me that the play would come in three phases, the first would be for me to get my feet nice and dirty.

At 13:27 I sent you a message.

It was time for me to start dirtying my feet. My shoes and socks came off, and out I went. I knew that the dry weather and road sweeper would limit my ability to get grubby so I wet my feet before stepping out of my courtyard into the street. The cold tarmac bit into my wet soles, the sharp little stones causing pretty pain to dance over my soles though they wouldn’t stick to my feet. I kept walking, finding grit and dust to trail through. It was no good, my feet were staying clean. Eventually I found some roadside shrubs with damp mud surrounding them. Digging my feet into the cool dirt I found success. And now that my feet were sticky and dirty they I picked up more filth on the walk home.

If this was the first part what was to come…

Showing you my dirty soles as I sat on my front step I didn’t have to wait long to find out. “Do you have pegs?” My little box of pain has play pegs in it, but they were up my cream carpeted stairs in my bedside drawers. Looking at my washing line I easily had the dozen pegs you had requested. “Strip and get in the shower.” My need for clarity stepped in, should I have the shower on or off? I’m glad I asked as you wanted me in the dry shower. With the pegs.

  • One on each nipple, close to the tip. Then, with your hands above your head, shake your breasts six times. Achy? Good…
  • Now, three on each of your outer labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.
  • Now put two on each of your inner labia. Stand, stretch and shake again.

At each stage I took a picture for you, showing you what had been happening.

Evidence for me as much as for you, when I look back and scratch my head in puzzlement.

Looking back at them now, I can feel the pulsing from my breasts, an ache that quickly subsided after the first set of shakes. The six on my outer labia set my body ablaze with sensation. The throbbing from the makeshift clamps causing my clit and inner labia to swell, making me feel needy and desperate to cum. And then the four on my swollen inner labia, a lighter sensation. It wasn’t an erotic pain, but it was a safe pain that I wanted to endure for you. The shakes before this third set of pegs had made my juices flow from the physical sensation, the third set was me becoming mentally undone.

  • Now, crouch down, spread yourself with the pegs and piss all over your feet to wash them.

I hadn’t even realised I needed to pee, but the flowing nectar warmed my feet and I rubbed them together under the stream to remove as much dirt as possible, watching the grime flow over my white bathtub. My feet partially cleansed you checked in with me.

  • How was I feeling? Throbbing. 
  • If I said to use a toy to make yourself cum what would you choose? My Doxy.
  • Pull the pegs off quickly.
  • Edge yourself three times.
  • Then give yourself three orgasms.
  • Enjoy yourself. Make me proud.

Instructions that a girl can get on board with.

The pegs made me squeal quietly into my dirty shower, blood rushing back into my compressed and sensitive flesh. No sooner than I had got my breath back I was heading to my bedroom, the Doxy ready and waiting for me like she always is. Cresting three times, shouting “No” hoarsely each time, preventing the sensations to overtake me. Stopping just in time. And then bringing myself to two powerful orgasms. The third was elusive. Patience was my friend this afternoon, and with a sensational self-inflicted squirt the pleasure crashed over me once more.

With spray on my thighs and feet I realised the time.

I was just in time for the school run. Sending a quick “thank you” I dressed and headed from my home, dirty feet covered in my favourite socks. I love the school run with dirty secrets, and today was no different. I was aware of the filth between my toes as I stood chatting to another mum. Hugging my children and taking them on their way my brain switched from submission to motherly love. It wasn’t until later, when we arrived for their swimming lessons, that I took off my shoes and socks. My dirty, piss soaked feet were perfectly filthy.

The sight of them, brazenly naked on the poolside, sent a thrill through me.

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February Photofest
Masturbation Monday

 

Those who fear muddy feet will never discover new paths was first published on A Leap of Faith.

I encased my heart in stone so as to stop it from beating

Encased by DrLovelace
Encased by DrLovelace

I encased my feet in wax so as to stop them from running away.

Actually that’s not entirely true. My heart is not encased in stone. It beats on even when it feels like it is forever broken.

Love can hurt, but not loving hurts even more.

And it would take more than a little hot wax to stop me from running, or wriggling, or giggling….

And having my friend DrLovelace encase my feet in wax is just good old fashioned kinky fun time! I am such a lucky girl to have loving friends who brighten my world in such wonderful ways.

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DrLovelace brightens my world!

I encased my heart is stone to stop it from beating was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Click the lips to see what everyone else is up to:

Sinful Sunday
Apologies for not following the prompt, but this was too pretty not to share.

 

The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.

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The day had arrived. I was prepared, physically and mentally.

Work was done, the boys were with their dad and I was heading west for “The biggest & best Kink night in the South West !!” I was beyond nervous, but knew that if I didn’t keep pushing myself forward I would start to pull back into my shell again, like a Tortoise. I had no desire for that to happen. When I arrived in the town I ended up driving round in circles in the one way system. It took me three attempts to find the correct road and car park, but perhaps unsurprisingly I hadn’t noticed the club. fetching my rucksack from the back seat I noticed a familiar person. LTM was walking out of the car park so I hurried to catch up. He walked me round and introduced me to the friends he was meeting at the door. Joining the queue I was directly behind someone I had been chatting to about rope, with the potential for him to tie me up. He was shy so I would have to ask.

As I moved toward the door the nerves and sick feelings gave way to calm resignation.

I had arrived, the queue behind me blocked any chance of escape and beyond the door lay a new world. As the door swung open I was greeted by three familiar smiling faces plus the venue owners. I was given a locker key and directions to the changing space but I couldn’t make my way through the crush of people so I stopped to chat with MT first. As he had been there early he had managed to hire a private room, and offered me to use it to change and store my bits. Accepting his offer I got changed in privacy and comfort, gathered my thoughts, took a deep breath and stepped  out to join the tour for newcomers to the venue.

There were four floors of kink to explore, with a hot tub, sauna, steam room and showers, as well as a social space, a dark dank dungeon space, and a larger play space at the top…

The large play space had a demonstration stage and a Fucking Machine.

MsD had told me she was taking it, and I would be welcome to try…if I wanted to. Less of a request, more of a cheeky challenge.

But would I?

Could I?!

What do you think? By the time the demos had started the main space had filled up. One woman tried it briefly, then another for longer. I was watching the action from the side, wanting to go up but not wanting to… When the second lady climbed down from the stage I looked up and MsD was asking who was next. Catching her eye I was still humming and ahhing when she crooked her finger at me and smiled with eyes that said “You know you want to.” Fuelled by nothing more than Diet Coke my inhibitions melted away. I wanted to do this, and I was damn sure that I would. So with an audience I stepped up onto the stage and stripped from the waist down, got into position and settled down for another completely new experience. I giggled an awful lot, and mostly rested my face in the cushion on the stage, but being watched over by so many people was quite a thrill. With SL by my side, matching my giggles with respectful humour as his Mistress attempted to get his new friend to give in and climb off, I discovered new reserves of confidence.

I didn’t orgasm on the machine but it did wet my appetite.

I knew full well that this wasn’t going to be the last time I used one, though I had no idea when or where the next time would be. MT introduced me to his group of friends, and a little later on he had asked if I would like him to cane my feet. He wanted to show her what he could do, and he also wanted to make sure I had a good time. Of course, I agreed! And he did a very good job caning my feet solo. He also used his tawse on my soles and on the palms of my hands, which felt delicious. Tr and CC were also on hand to make my evening a great one. CC giving me advice on foot protection when the heels had to come off (pop socks) and Tr making calming conversation when I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the noise, heat and throngs of people.

That night some of my friendships within the community became established.

As the night went on I chattered to so many new people, respectfully asking about things that were going on that I had never seen before, such as needle play. Seeing the variety of outfits and implements opened my eyes to so many more possibilities. Much of what I saw that night I had seen in porn, some had been used on me in person, but to see all of these other people like me enjoying their kinks publicly was amazing. And all of the beautifully different shapes and sizes of my fellow revellers triggered a change in me. I had learnt that Sir enjoyed my body, and he had helped me to be confident in my own skin with him and myself. Now though I could see the wonderful diversity, not all the traditional beauties you would see on kink.com but so much more. Men, women and everyone in between. Outfits ranging from latex to lingerie to leather, all-black to brightly coloured.

There was space for everyone, and that included me.

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Life shrinks or expands, in proportion to one’s courage

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Up until this point my experiences had all been private.

My online presence could only be described as “lurking.” Now though I had decided to get out and about to events when I was available. My visit to the couple had been planned as a step towards this goal, and now that I knew the couple hosting a club night I felt I really wanted to attend. It was still a huge step so I found a sunday afternoon event which looked friendly. Kink and Cake was held at Studio Onyx and looked lively. Having a look at the profiles of the others listed as going I decided that I would send some messages in advance. The lady from the couple, MsD, was going to be there, and I spotted another profile where the owner had just posted a writing about his first experiences of events, making friends and finding his fit. He put some things that helped him in meeting new people, including this:

Here’s another tip… Well….I think it rings true at least… Be interesting, learn an oddball skill, find something you like and get better at it, I make whips, they aren’t too bad and I’m getting better at it and with them, but they make a great conversation starter as does so many other things!

I may not be able to make whips but I sure as hell can bake so I left a little comment thanking him for the writing and that I was going to take my own conversation starter in the form of cake. He replied later with encouragement to attend, recommending that I just be myself and people will respect that.

The next day I had a private message from him.

He had noticed that my first event would be Kink and Cake, that he would be going and that he was looking forward to meeting me. It was a friendly crowd, and they had welcomed him with open arms. All I had to do now was ask myself those two questions:

  1. Is it safe?
  2. Do I want to?

The answer to both was YES so now all I had to do was be brave. That sunday came round quickly, and I made a raspberry cake where the topping was made of icing sugar and raspberries blitzed together. With the ripeness of the fruit the icing was almost fluorescent pink.

If I had wanted to spark up conversation this was certainly one way to do it!

I walked in to the venue and popped my cake down on the table, suddenly there was a group of people cooing at the cake and chattering with me. The hosts made me welcome and introduced me to some people, MsD came downstairs from the playspace and introduced me to her slave SL (he quickly snaffled the first of his three slices of cake) and then the whip-maker Trautaruan (Tr) arrived with his play partner CC. There were so many people there, and everyone made me feel welcome. I chatted half of the afternoon away and ended up deep in conversation with a male sub (MT) and a foot fetishist (LTM) about bastinado. MT quite fancied learning a little more in his switch side and LTM had the skills, equipment and enthusiasm.

I had the feet so off we went upstairs, a merry trio.

LTM had a little rubber paddle and a pin wheel, and after I reclined fully clothed on a bench with my feet in some stirrups he took my right foot, showing MT how and where to hit me. They swapped back and forth with the paddle and as MT struck my left foot LTM would run the pinwheel over my right sole, stretching my toes back. They were working on my feet for what felt like half an hour and the pleasure was quite something, my body was responding in the usual way with pleasure tingles spreading like fireworks up my legs… Only this time the effort on my soles was relentless, the sensations were overwhelming and the tingles joined at my apex causing a totally unexpected orgasm.

An orgasm with no genital stimulation… I thought that was the stuff of legend….

The orgasm was a surprise and the fact that I had been fully clothed and not in a sexual situation threw me completely, would I be able to accept that I had reached orgasm through pain? I didn’t know, but at that point I decided not to think about it as it was too much of a challenge. I went back to socializing and chatting, the orgasm was a sign that I was very comfortable in the company of these new people. I had always believed I was socially inept, and during my marriage had been so isolated that I hadn’t been able to challenge myself to become confident in myself. Sir had worked hard to show me that I had every right to be confident and now, in his absence, I was able to reap the rewards of his labour. I even made plans to meet up with a couple of them at the Fetish club a couple of weeks later, and many of the people I met that day have become firm friends.

I drove home and went to the beach, where I admired my puffy soles and soaked up the early evening sunshine.

I had done it!

I had gone to my first munch, I had pushed myself hard and come out stronger. 

Life shrinks or expands, in proportion to one’s courage was first published on A Leap of Faith.

 

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

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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 Hogtied.com 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.

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To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.

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It was with great anticipation that I stood outside his room on a wet and windy January evening.

My company had been requested earlier in the day, and K had agreed to look after my children so that I could go out to visit Sir. It would cost me having her daughter to stay the following weekend, but by this point I was brave enough to look after children that were not my own! And I really, really wanted to see Sir…

I say “see Sir” with my tongue firmly in my cheek. 

Our time apart meant that I would be wearing the blindfold which would be waiting for me to put on as soon as I entered the room. If I could still follow instructions then we would move along from this point again, but I did love the blindfold… It was a safety net against the intensity of him, I worried that without it I would be like a rabbit in the headlights. Fortunately I didn’t need to worry about that for today. What I did need to worry about was how to transport my toy collection without drawing attention to myself as I walked through the hotel reception, in heels. My instructions for the evening were to wear a skirt, knickers and heels while having bare legs. My hair needed to be up as it had now grown enough to be put into a tail.

As my name suggests I am very comfortable barefoot.

Sir knew that I had been practising wearing heels while he had been away, but that I was still far from comfortable in them. I have a love/hate relationship with them: they are often aesthetically pleasing, but slip off of my feet and I end up looking like a clumpy clown. Somehow I managed to make it from my car to his room, and once inside the door I was able to stand steadily. Waiting for the sound of him moving across the room, his footsteps approaching across the carpeted floor. And there he was, running his hands across my body, claiming me once more.

His toy, his plaything. 

The bag full of toys that I brought with me and waited by my feet was all but ignored as he drew me into the scene with just the lube extracted from the top, where he had asked that I put it. I knew that he would be marking my backside, but aside from that I had no ideas. With my hair in a ponytail he had something solid to properly hold onto, and though I had experienced hair pulling before I had never had my head pulled back that far. There was a moment of real fear, when I realised that I couldn’t breathe because of the angle, but I trust Sir with my life and know full well that he will always keep me safe, all I need to do is trust him. So I did… I still felt that thrill of fear coursing through my body, but it wasn’t the terror that had briefly threatened to bubble up.

And then the impact play began…

Familiar and delicious, my backside appreciated the attention no end. And when he flipped me over and started on my feet I was in second heaven. I remember the position well, laying on my back holding my bent legs behind the knees with my feet presented for him to beat. I was exposed and vulnerable, blind to his movements I had no idea what he was using on me. It was stingy and had a bite…but I couldn’t put my finger on the implement. After an extended assault on my soles he paused and I caught my breath. I felt the air move and braced my feet for what was to come, but instead my poor unsuspecting pussy took the full force of the impact. Umph! 

I hadn’t been expecting that, and blushed with the pain and humiliation at my unspoken assumption.

Thinking back now I can almost imagine a cheeky grin flashing across his face, but at the time my lips had become swollen with the relentless blows. What was it that he was using…??? Now that he had moved away from my feet to a more sensitive area it felt like a Cat of nine tails, but the only time I recalled having one used on me was by a gentle sadist. This one made me want to sing in pain while my arousal leaked out of me… adding to the intensity of sensation.

The pleasure and pain link still forming, gradually, in my mind. 

Throughout the scene his wands were never far away, either his Hitachi giving the wonderfully satisfying and deep vibrations, interspersed with his electro wand which made me shriek, jump and giggle through orgasms. But what surprised me was toward the end… taking him deep in my throat while he used what felt like a tree trunk in my swollen apex. Each and every time I gagged on him it felt like a small flood would escape me. This was the first time I recall that sensation. Much like when he first introduced me to electro play I had to check in and see whether I had imagined a different sensation, I asked whether I had covered his bedding. I had always imagined I would be ashamed if I ever were to gush, but this hadn’t felt like I expected it to, and I trusted that he would tell me if I had done something wrong so I could just enjoy the situation. And when I received his cum I swallowed as much as I could greedily. When he flicked the last few drops over my face as they escaped the end of his cock, I don’t think I have ever been more grateful.

Driving home with flecks of his semen over my face, and in my hair… the invisible marks that I always adored.

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Image from Bould Whips

You have to sniff out joy. Keep your nose to the joy trail.

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One of the stand out memories of my childhood is my brother pinning me down and using his teenage boy smelling shoes to try to torture me. 

It never worked though, and I would always come out laughing. I’m sure that is the reason I can’t tell when milk is on the turn or chicken has gone off. For all of the abuse that my poor nostrils endured at the feet of my brother, and my later habits as a party girl I still find my positive experiences and memories intrinsically linked with nasal pleasure.

I guess I have always had a connection with different fragrances.

Of my top five favourite books two were chosen because the copies I own have that musty well-read smell. I can be transported to a different space and time just by baking a Dorset apple cake, and stormy walks by the seaside are just magic. Even the smell of muck spreading evokes beautiful memories of a well spent youth!

There are definitely certain scents that get under my skin… That fuel my fires of passion, keeping them burning…

For me the strong association between sense of smell and desire was only recognised when I began my journey into submission. Blind to His actions everything else became magnified: the taste of His sweat; the cool touch of His hands as they stroked my blushing bottom; the sound of His voice and His scent. Entering his space, his dominant presence enveloping my senses always felt like coming home. The pheromones emitting from Him coupled with His cologne was a heady mix.

Our first meeting after that long break had me right back there, with that scent which had lingered in my mind.

Since then I have become aware of how freshly sawn wood can transport me back to a certain place and time with M, my former lover; freshly cut grass puts me back in touch with my 18-year-old self and the time I got an allergic rash after spending the night frolicking with a lover in the grassy field near my home; the way fumes from boat engines make my heart pound in my chest with hard-wired memories of lusty evenings spent at fake sea with R…

More recently however, I have begun to form fantasies around particular aromas…

Fresh Tarmac, for example, makes for some interesting scenarios, as does rain falling on hot dry ground… and the smell of smoke from extinguished fire poi never fails to get my heart racing.

Dragons-breath

Picture taken from Cinders ashes entertainment

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