Trust your landmark and run through the smoke.

Lady reclining over her sofa, touching her pussy while wearing a medal from her landmark moment

This week Food For Thought Friday has asked us to think about Landmark in our lifes.

What, if any, have been your particular landmarks, either in relation to your blog or your wider life?

Do you have any future goals/landmarks you want to achieve? What are they?

I have been very quiet this month for a number of reasons. The first was my study. With the end of my module came assignment pressure and extra work took over. Alongside this life has thrown me an unwanted curve ball; managing this has taken up a lot of energy but also marks a significant shift in my wellbeing. Previously an episode like this would have floored me, but this time I have held my own… battered but not beaten. This in itself is a landmark achievement for me.

But it is not the one that I want to talk about today!

As I have mentioned previously I like to run. It was the one thing I was allowed to do for me while I was married, and after a couple of years break and significant weight gain the return of Sir heralded my return to running in January last year. Since before I met him I had the goal of wanting to run a marathon, and when he departed again in the summer he left me the task of running a marathon by the end of February. Losing him again was painful, but I had a goal. He had set me a task because he believed I could do it, even though I didn’t quite have the belief in myself. All winter I trained, loving the longer distances, the freedom of the miles, the openness of the big sky over my head. I had the race date for the start of february, a gloriously hilly first marathon. Local enough that I knew the area and could practise parts of the route. My beloved Dartmoor. Races leading up to the big day went exactly as planned. The longest run felt amazing and I could have carried on all day. I was ready! Body, mind, and soul working together.

My landmark moment had arrived.

Or so I thought. The start  of February brought snow to Dartmoor, the race was postponed. I went out for a marathon distance run that day, and ended up with an injury, catching the train home from half way. I was left feeling like I had failed Sir in my task. I wouldn’t be able to achieve the marathon I had been tasked with, I wondered why I should even bother to find another marathon seeing as I had let him down. What was the point? I had this one-sided conversation with a friend, venting my frustrations at him in text form. And as I let all the pain and frustration out my memory was jarred to Sir’s response to a task the previous summer. A plan had fallen through and I had needed to scrabble around to fulfill the brief. After everything had been sorted I had explained the level of stress which had threatened to overwhelm me, I was so upset about disappointing him when something outside of my control had happened. His response had obviously struck a chord with me:

N, you have never let me down. You always try your hardest and do everything you can to achieve my expectations, you have never let me down or disappointed me.

This exchange surfaced in my mind as I spilled the bitter disappointment at Slave Lytton. And from this came the realisation that I had not let him down at all. had been ready. had done everything possible to make sure that could complete the marathon in the time frame he had set me. Yes, I was disappointed, and I would probably always feel like I could have done more, but… those where the last whispers of depression and I had to believe in myself.

So I started hunting for a replacement race.

A marathon that I would enjoy for my first time, and one that fit into my child free weekends. And one that would allow time for my knee to recover, but without being too far away for me to lose the momentum. Finding more races to keep me inspired in the meantime, I stumbled across a marathon. A new one. Fairly hilly, well located, beautiful views, and most importantly….lots of cake for finishers! The date was set for the beginning of May. I spent the next two months rebuilding my distance and regaining my confidence. It was during this time that I realised that sir had set me this task because he knew how much I wanted to achieve it, even though I didn’t quite believe that I would be able to do it. Even as I sit here typing that I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be here, but wanted me to grow without him, to finally learn to believe in myself unequivocally, in the same way that he always had.

What a gift to leave me with?

Roll on to the start of May. I don’t know how many of you have completed a marathon, I had no idea what I would actually feel like during the race or after the race, but the entire event just blew me away. I loved it, the whole damn thing! I can’t believe that I hadn’t believed in myself all along, that I hadn’t found the courage to train for and enter a marathon before then. There were a few moments when I stopped smiling, and they were in the third quarter (I’m told this is a normal time to find it hard) when I realised that I wouldn’t be able to tell sir that I had completed his task, and to thank him for believing in me. When I finally reached that finish line I jumped for joy. My amazing friend S-W-L had driven for hours to come and cheer me across the line. I jumped for joy, and couldn’t stop babbling about how proud of myself I am. The first time I have ever felt proud of myself without first having to have someone (including myself) convince me that I should be proud.

So that is my landmark moment, and the lesson that has translated from BDSM to everyday life to allow me to achieve.

But what is next? Do you think I am going to stop there?

Nah, I don’t think I could enjoy a life without challenging goals to achieve.

To paraphrase a very important man: Set a goal, plan, achieve, take stock and set a new goal. [Repeat]

Next stop is an ultra…. watch this space!

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Check out what else is happening over at Boobday.

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

“Just” a basic black bra.

A woman in a black bra tied in beautiful red nylon rope for the post "Just" a basic black bra.

Late last spring I was fitted for a bra for the first time since my teens.

As soon as I knew I had a size I quickly fell in love with lingerie and soon acquired a variety of lovely underwear. The black bra I’m wearing in this picture is the first purchase, the one I made off the back of that fitting. A very plain, tee shirt bra from Marks and Spencers. The selection of bras they had in my size, or at least the ones the fitting lady insisted on bringing for me, were not to my taste. Not fun, sassy or playful. Sir had tasked me to push myself out of my comfort zone that day, and I wasn’t leaving the shop without a bra!

I chose this comfortable, functional and understated piece of equipment.

Little did I know when I left the shop that my wonderful friend would be bringing her new rope for me to fondle when she came for dinner that night. Fondle is exactly what I did, and when she offered to tie  me up in it I couldn’t have declined. Whipping off my blouse I decided to leave my new underwear in place, I hadn’t reached peace with what lay beneath and didn’t want to get them out in such close quarters to a friend who has marvellous breasts. It may have just been a basic black tee shirt bra, but it was the perfect backdrop for that beautiful blood red rope. It enabled me to stand proud in her wonderful creation.

Just because it is basic, doesn’t mean it can’t be sexy.

Lingerie is for everyone

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“Just” a basic black bra was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Feeling Friable

A small beige pebble being gripped between thumb and forefinger in close up, slightly out of focus. Further below is a crisp view of the pebble beach. The featured image for Feeling Friable.

Friable: (adj.) easily broken into pieces or reduced to nothing.

When I was 14 I had a grumbling appendix. The doctors wouldn’t remove it because they didn’t see it as an emergency, but they wouldn’t let me do sports, just in case I sustained a blow and became an urgent case. While I waited for the powers that be to decide what would be done I spent Wednesday afternoons (the time my year had PE) in the library. While there I would write, poetry mainly. One such poem was about how fragile I felt in this situation. For the first time in my life I felt vulnerable and useless, that I would easily crumble into a million pieces. Following the composition (of what is actually pure drivel, produced by angst) I pored over a thesaurus and discovered the word friable.

And so “Feeling Friable” was born.

The last few days have been a challenge, leaving me on the brink of exhaustion. I even had an afternoon nap yesterday and have been keeping myself hidden behind my walls of self-protection. As a woman, a mum and a friend, I feel emotionally wiped out. It has been a time of asking some of my wonderful friends for a shoulder to lean on. It was while talking to B that I was reminded of the poem “Feeling friable”. I found my mind wandering to the title as we said our farewells, the fragility I feel at the moment is not about me shattering.

It’s a more subtle feeling of crumbling into powder, like I could be swept under the carpet.

Last spring I discovered a new side of myself, or perhaps a side of myself I’ve always had was described in a new way? Apparently I showed my Kitten side, by curling into a ball and resting my head in a friends lap at the end of a long weekend, allowing him to stroke my hair ever so gently. More recently I discovered a strong desire to have my hair brushed by a big man with strong arms. To be adored and cherished by him, to be craved but not touched in any way aside from my hair… I’ve never been one for labels, but have puzzled over what any of this means.

Last night, while waiting for sleep and peace to overtake me, I felt a wave of sadness instead.

I am not lonely, I love my life the way it is including the amount of alone time I have, but in that moment all I wanted was to be protected. To be tucked up tight in bed, and have my hair stroked while I drifted off. My strong protector watching over me while I slumbered.  Perhaps I’m feeling fragile and crave a safe space to curl up and hide? Or maybe I am entering a softer, gentler phase? Then again, I could just be healing from hurt, and allowing myself to be vulnerable.

Whatever the answer I know that I can be Strong and confident while I feel friable, and that is ok.

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Feeling Friable was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Eroticon 2019: My Ten things

Picture shows the handle of a hand made flogger made from black and green paracord. This was one of the lessons I learned at Eroticon with thanks to kinkcraft

From one thing, know ten thousand things.

Ok, so Eroticon is my one thing, and my brain has been filled with ten thousand other things.

When I found this quote for my title I initially intended it as a tongue in cheek reference to how full my brain is following the conference. However, in an effort to narrow it down to the top ten things I learnt, it has become clear that I wasn’t far off. No matter, I shall break it down as best I can.

The following are in no particular order, and are definitely not a conclusive list.
  • The first session I attended on the saturday was with KinkCraft. It was important for me to find a space to relax a little and I love making things, so where better. Last year I made a flogger from speaker cable. The sensation it produces is delicious, but the handle is pretty is pretty awful. I am so excited to now know how to work with paracord to make a nice handle. As luck would have it I even have matching colours in my kinky-crafting storage box.
  • I learnt that objectification works both ways. Sunday morning saw me with a huge dilemma. Each of the three rooms had a talk that I wanted to go to, but I had to choose one. After much deliberation I decided on Fetish.com and their talk “Launch your Pocket Rocket! Time to monetize your content” This was solely based on my need to wake up gently, and the men hosting this talk certainly offered that. However, not only was there sleepy-head cerebral porn on offer, there was also a lot of new and exciting content for me. I came away feeling that I may be able to make my little corner of the world at  least pay for itself, plus an occasional caffeine hit.
  • Sometimes it is possible to make the wrong choice of talk though, and one of my chosen presentations I found quite difficult to relate to. Come Curious are fun, beautiful and sassy ladies with an unmistakable brand. They are certainly high-profile, and represent some great ideas. I hope they pave the way for future generations of the sex-positive community, but with the way society is at the moment being out and proud isn’t always an option. I’m glad that I stayed for this talk though, some distressing and inspiring stories from my fellow delegates brought us all closer together. I think we all learnt something during “Public ejaculation: When you put your face on your sex work.”
  • I met Zak Jane Keir on the book stand at BBB last last November. I had no idea who she was at the time, but after I purchased the Dice Writing book we got talking about Eroticon, and she told me she would be doing a workshop on dice writing there. I knew then that I would be attending, even if it meant missing something else I might find useful. (It did, but it was totally worth it!) I had tried to write using the book since buying it, but put it away again, knowing full well that I would find it easier to immerse myself following in-person tuition. I wasn’t wrong! Not only did I learn so much from her, other delegates (braver than me) read snippets of their work to the group and showed me how serious and/or nonsensical I could be. I can’t wait to start putting things into practise.
  • “Procrastination is a habit of fear.” One of the most valuable sessions for me was Kayla Lords’ How to reach your goals when you have no time to work on them. I have had some intensive training around goal setting, and it is something I consider a strength. I am also pretty good at getting the work done, when I figure out that I don’t need to wash the garden gate or defrost the freezer… It was amazing to see someone so passionately discussing their goals and the minute changes that they had to make to their day in order to start winning big. But the sentence that stood out is the quote she used about procrastination. It has been helpful in my recent assignment, to a point, and I have shared it with a wonderful friend who has been doing a cracking job painting her woodwork. Thank you Kayla for sharing your experiences and inspiring me. (Though I am putting off my time audit. I wonder if I’m scared of what I will find?!)
  • Something that follows on quite nicely from here is Molly and Michael taking on the subject of Looking at your blog with a critical eye. I know that I have a lot of work to do to bring my corner of the world up to speed. It got battered in June when WordPress archived me, and then my blog took a back seat while I licked wounds. Since getting my head into gear again I realised the amount I need to do, but didn’t have the faintest idea where to start. This session was immediately helpful. Along with Kayla’s30 minute rule, and a series of bullet point lists (Who doesn’t love a list) I think I will be able to achieve everything in time for this years “top 100” lists, and give myself a fighting chance of being included. Making one small change with each post (ALT description on pictures is my choice) sets me up with a winning mindset…
  • But once I have set aside 30 minutes, and critically appraised (and fixed) my blog I need to have something else ready to go. Thank you Girl on the net for your amazing talk on building traffic. She made it look so easy, and using her basic steps it really is, but I have to remember that GOTN has been working hard at this for a lot of years, and patience is the name of her game. Plus #journorequest (I’m not sure I’m ready for it this month, but it doesn’t stop me browsing)
  • Dessert and Readings on sunday afternoon was a steamy affair. Not only did I get to it peacefully and enjoy some smut, but I was able to put voices to people whose writing I have enjoyed for the past year. Victoria Blisse, who I later met on the book stall, and Bibulous One both had me particularly squirming in my seat. Having been unsure whether I would enjoy being read to, I have realised I am a complete convert and want smutty bedtime stories about pain and pleasure… No need to be in my own head.
  • The trade stalls were great to chat with during moments when I needed to walk and chatter rather than sit and listen, and I wanted to say a special thank you to someone who has cleared up a long standing wondering of mine. Claire from ElectraStim not only made my day when she let me play with her demo kit (estim has been a long term favourite but somewhat absent friend) but she also patiently discussed an odd rope query I had re bondage and large lobe holes. She will likely never know how chuffed I was to be able to have this chat with someone, and to be able to go away with the confidence that (should I find a playmate with twin lobe hoops I can probably make up some mischievous predicament for them. If I can involve an Electra Stim Axis then all the better.
  • Boobday is a meme I have been taking part in for some time now. I have always had a tempestuous relationship with my breasts, but through (excessive?) sharing of my breasts I have come to appreciate that mine can be just as sexy as everybody elses. I was so excited to see tweets flying around about a group picture, and was over the moon to find out there was time to spare before dashing for my train home. My final memory of Eroticon, captured by the wonderful woman behind Focused and Filthy my final lesson from Eroticon is that boobs are much more fun with friends!
Three rows of breasts on display for a boobday group shot at eroticon 2019
Photo credit: Focused and Filthy
Eroticon 2019 Attending

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Eroticon 2019: My ten things was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Do I want you to hold my hand?

One hand with manicured pink nails reaching out from inside an inflated latex body bag., holding hands with a second hand reaching down.

It is funny how life experience changes us.

During my marriage I was made to feel like I couldn’t do or achieve anything without having P hold my hand. I now see that for what it was: him holding me back for fear that I would gain confidence and leave. For about a year after I moved him out I still struggled with groups of people, I wasn’t sure how I would fit in, or survive without someone there to comfort and reassure. That all changed when I went to my first ever munch. Of the people I would see there I had only met a couple of people in private and spoken to one other online. I walked in, fake-confidence plastered all over my face, and got stuck in.

There was no one to hold my hand that day.

It was a slippery slope from there on. I attended another munch in quick succession. Smaller this time, but I had not met anyone else, online or in person. Then came my first event. Now, years later, I am comfortable in new venues, chatting to groups of people I haven’t met before. I have recently been asked to take over hosting duties at my favourite munch, a task I have accepted after much soul searching. It seems relevant to say, given the prompt, that I have a strong supporting network of friends who will be holding my hand as guest hosts each month. I won’t be able to manage the 30+ kinksters without them, and look forward to sharing some of that responsibility. This is never more important than those days when I don’t feel that I have any people-skills. Occasionally they elude me completely, but the fake confidence can be plastered on again so that I can get through.

That fake confidence sometimes spills over into actual, real self assuredness.

A knowledge that I can do it, or at least that I want to do it so much I’m sure it will be alright. That I am enough, if that makes sense? That’s what I felt last July, when I saw that early bird tickets had been released for Eroticon. A rush of excitement and knowledge that I would be fine enveloped me, and I hit the purchase button. There is a long time between July and March, and over those months I started to grow nervous. Organising my train ticket and booking the hotel were practical steps I could take to quell those nerves but once that was done…. I had nothing! I reached out to my real life friends, they listened to my nervous ramblings during late evening phone calls, extended a Whatsapp hand hold when I needed it, just like they do when I’m floundering at registration for runs.

Eventually though, with my bags packed and my mum flapping about how dangerous London is, there was nothing to do but head off.

The nerves built on the train, on the tube, and at the coffee shop after I had checked into my room. I thought I would run around a bit of the city, calm my nerves before the meet and greet on Friday while also doing a recce for the conference and social locations. It did not help! Eleven miles I ran, and did not once see where I needed to go. Showering I rushed out the door, google maps providing a commentary in my ear. Even then I managed to walk a two mile loop when it was, in reality, less than half a mile from my digs. When I finally reached the venue I was lucky to bump into Kayla Lords and John Brownstone. They pointed me in the right direction and I promised to introduce myself properly when they got back to the event. Once inside I felt completely overwhelmed, and struggled to get my bearings. I have no idea how many people there were, but I knew nobody. I wondered what on earth I had been thinking! How could I possibly fit in with these people, everybody seemed to know at least a few people, or they had their significant other to keep them safe. I met Toy for Sir in those first minutes after entering. She was in the same situation as me, but had not long landed from the US. Needless to say, we were both swept off in different directions. Each somehow finding a guide to hold our hands while we got settled in. I met so many wonderful people that first night while fuelled entirely on Lime and Soda, and I slept like a baby afterwards.

It is so exhausting, meeting so many strangers. Putting faces and voices to genitals and writing styles.

The conference itself brought more people into my sphere. And I learnt so much from the speakers. When I found my way into the workshop for the demonstrations by Mactyre I was able to enjoy some time out in the vac bed, interact/abuse Jenby in the vac cube, and spend some time in the inflatable latex body bag. Although I felt utterly ridiculous in this new latex plaything (in a silly, fun way) I did learn that not all men in kilts go without! After being kicked out of the play room, I disappeared before the evening do. Decompressing with a short run, and some dinner before heading back to the evening social. I had met some really wonderful people during the day, and managed to chat to a few people before realising that I was drooling more than talking (it had been a long day!) and I headed back for some sleep before the second day of talks. Equally as amazing as the first day, I struggled to choose between the presentations. So many wonderful insights from fellow delegates and presenters alike. The deep exhaustion that has followed while I catch my breath is so entirely worth it, and as I come back to normal I shall start to decipher my notes, and look up the online round ups. I am looking forward to seeing how I grow and develop over the next year, both as a blogger and as a woman.

Do I wish I had someone here to hold my hand?

Sometimes I do, sometimes it is what I feel most in need of. To feel that someone else is there should I slip and stumble. But really, I am happy to not have that connection to hide behind. As things are I am forced to reach out of my comfort zone, to meet new people and start conversations. To find new people whose hands I can hold, however briefly, while we explore new territory. Be that munches, events or sex blogging conferences.

I am confident that I wouldn’t have met half of the people I now consider dear friends had I had the safety net of another’s hand to keep me safe from Stranger Danger.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Do I want you to hold my hand?was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Quick fire TMI Tuesday

lighted matchstick on brown wooden surface
Photo by Sebastian Soerensen on Pexels.com

Complete each sentence with an anecdote of sexual adventure or misadventure:

1. The first time I . . .

…had sex in a car was with my first boyfriend. It was in his mums car, a white nissan almera estate. The romance doesn’t stop here. We were pulled up in a layby, and the seats were folded down with blankets thrown over the coarse carpet to make it more comfortable. We had ice cream, Ben and Jerry’s Pfish Food, and as I reclined, with my eyes closed, he ate it from my naked body. Opening my eyes to look at the starry sky I noticed the rear windscreen was fogged up, so I reached up to wipe it clear. A shadowy figure loomed over the window, and I pulled a blanket over me. I had never seen him move so quickly, but he got out to confront the individual perving on him and his girl!! He was so brave, my hero! Standing up to the…. Horse!

2. The last time I . . .

…enjoyed naked cuddles was during the summer holidays. No sex, just platonic intimacy. Cuddles, strong arms and a tickly nose. Although I would love a relationship, I love my own company and that of my children. I can take care of most of my needs, but giving myself a strong, safe space to curl up and be small is outside of my skill-set. There are people I could ask for this, but when I need skin-to-skin contact is when I am least likely to ask.

3. The only time I . . .

…have organised my own blind fuck I was so careful with all of my planning. He and I spoke on the phone, I checked out his verifications and planned my safety call. I was as safe as I was going to be, and probably even more careful than I would have been if I was actually going to see him. Anyway… He must have been really excited at the prospect because less than 15 minutes after checking in with my safety call (he was 3 minutes away) I was on the phone to her to say he had gone and I was safe. She suggested I get someone else in to finish me off. I love to be a cum dump, but it needs to be part of a bigger picture, and the expectation of this meet was so much more than the execution.

4. My best . . .

…friends, my inner circle. They bring out the best in me, and allow the worst out too. They trust and share and love. They are my chosen family, my closest allies, and people who aren’t afraid to put me back in my place should I need that too. And when I look around my circle I see that I have shared more than just secrets with them. Well, most of them, I have two close and wonderful friends who have always been purely platonic. More stories to come, but if I share now that would be spoilers

5. My worst . . .

…encounter was with a hotelier I have called MS and introduced him in this post. He was everything that I now know that I don’t want, and still makes my skin prickle when I spot his avatar on Fetlife, though it seems he has disappeared now. A good example of why I should trust my intuition.

BONUS: Everyone, no matter how much experienced, still has some unfulfilled desires. What is at the top of your yet-to-do list?

I would love to go to PisSoir in full latex and experience a night devoted to watersports. Sharing nectar with friends, old and new!

TMI Tuesday blog

 

Quick fire TMI Tuesday was first published on A Leap of Faith

Happy TMI Tuesday

my happy place1893522191859037649..jpg
I’ve found my happy.

1. Do you like where you live or do you wish you could move?

I love where I live! There are things about the property that I am working on, but all homes have compromises. It is the area that I am in love with. When I find myself thinking how lucky I am to live where I do I need to remind myself that I chose to move here. I made this decision and am so very, very pleased I had the courage to find my happy.

2. No matter what life throws at me, I believe that I can deal with it. Agree or Disagree?

I have to agree with this one. Evidence tells me that I have the ability to deal with whatever rubbish comes my way. I don’t want this to be tested any more though. I’m ready for a gentle phase.

3. A dear friend is stuck in an unhappy relationship. What advice would you give to the friend to cope–how can they make lemonade out of lemons?

If they are confiding that they are “stuck in an unhappy relationship” then they clearly want my support to get out of it. It is a situation I have been in before, recently one of my favourites called to empty her head and talk things over. I don’t advise though, I share my experiences with love, warmth and humour. And then afterwards, when people have left their sex toys in an ex’s house, I can head over to help them replenish their toy box.

4. Nothing of value can be learned from failure. True or False?

Absolutely false! The definition of failure is “lack of success.” Even if you fail once you can choose to learn from how you failed, get up and try again. And if you give up…? Well, someone else will learn from your failures and find success where you didn’t.

5. Even if you are sure about your ultimate choice, do you still ask others for advice before making an important or risky decision?

I’m sure it sounds like I’m asking for advice but when I run important decisions by my friends it is more to hear my thoughts out loud. I am skilled at self counselling, and when I hit a stumbling block I have some very emotionally intelligent friends who ask the questions to get me over the hump. By the time I get to the point of those conversations I have usually decided the outcome, I just need to organise my thoughts.

Bonus: What is the sweetest or most rewarding moment in your life?

There are many little moments that I like to try to recall when times are dark. They usually centre around my boys. Now my youngest is writing he leaves me little notes lying around. When my eldest replies with “same” when I tell him I love him. When I get tight squeezes from little (and not so little any more) arms. But the sweetest moments are when I see them playing together, reaping the benefits of the life I’ve built for them. Not just for them, for me too. Those friendships I have built, that I gain strength from. Since finding my happy place my little family has grown immeasurably, with joy, love and silliness.

Click the links below to see what everyone else is up to for TMI Tuesday and February Photofest:

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Happy TMI Tuesday was originally posted on A Leap of Faith.

Fill in the blanks for TMI Tuesday.

It is time to fill in the blanks.

I am hesitant to set my intentions for a new year, but this seems far enough away from the bells to not be resolutions so I’m going to fill in the blanks that TMI Tuesday Blog has left for me.
1. I want to repeat _____ .

  • Making happy memories with my friends and families.
  • Electroplay.
  • Rope with Angel666.
  • Total submission.
  • Pure Dominance.
  • Dartmoor adventures.

2. I want to lose _____ .

  • My anal virginity again. (it’s grown back!)
  • Myself on the moors, just overnight… When I’m well prepared with all the appropriate kit.
  • My heart to someone wonderful, who wants to give me theirs too.
  • My fears of being hurt, when I feel that I push people away. (which could cause problems with losing my heart to someone wonderful)

3. I want to gain _____ .

  • Confidence in my running.
  • More latex!
  • More tiger stripes.
  • Some stamps in my passport.

4. I want to enjoy _____ .

  • The mud. In play…
  • Wing walking. (2 stone weight loss to go until I can sign up!)
  • More cake! (May hamper my wing walking time line)
  • My boys. I usually do, but more happy times please!

5. I want to savor _____ .

  • More time with my boys. They can be challenging at times, but I think I’m learning more about their needs and quirks.
  • Sunsets, and sunrises.

6. I need more _____ .

  • Skin-to-skin contact. (see Q. 2)
  • Platonic playtime.
  • Hours in the day!

Bonus: I will succeed in _____ .

  • My current module.
  • My marathon.
  • My book.
  • Making myself happy.

Click the button to see what everyone else is up to this week.

TMI Tuesday blog

Be kind, be genuine, be thankful.

thankful

This weeks Food for thought Friday prompt has struck a chord with me.

After such a wonderful birthday last week, full of kinky goodness and family time, I have been pondering what else I am grateful for. The UK may not celebrate Thanksgiving but it certainly doesn’t hurt to think about the question posed this friday.

What are the things in your life that you are most thankful for?

Firstly, and most importantly, I am thankful for my children.

Growing up they were never part of the plan, but things change and I have two marvellous little boys who make every day worthwhile. They have saved my life more times than I could ever recall, and their innocence and vulnerability gave me the strength to make the changes needed in my marriage, and fix boundaries with their dad. They make me laugh until my ribs ache and inspire me to be the best example I can for them. They teach me lessons daily, whether that is the immediate emotions of a five-year old, or translating the puzzling behaviours of a ten-year old autistic boy, whose magic world is so amazing he struggles to comprehend this silly world we all have to live in together.

I am thankful for this wonderful corner of the world that I call home.

The moors and coast are my happy places. I would like to say that I am lucky to live here, sandwiched between these wild open spaces that feed my soul, and I truly believe that I am! However, I am also very aware that I engineered this move to give myself the space to heal, and the boys a wonderful life, and I am grateful that I live in a world where that relocation was possible. Being here has given me the space to heal, to excise those emotional wounds which had festered so long and turned toxic. I didn’t have to hold myself on high alert constantly so was able to crumble, fall apart. I’ve since rebuilt, restructured and gained in confidence. My wellbeing is soaring and resilience has improved immensely. The support I’ve had from professionals has been invaluable, but it is my friends who have been the biggest surprise.

I’m thankful for those wonderful souls who have become my friends.

I’d never really had any, not of my own. Friends of P, yes. People I was thrown together with through circumstances, yes. But the men and women who are in my life now are incredible, they love me because of who I am, not in spite of it, and after such a long spell of self loathing I can’t express how wonderful that feels. To be authentically me! These wonderful people have shown me that I can ask for support from friends, whereas in the past it was always just me giving. I’m thankful for their patience when I have needed to retreat, their showing me how to lick my wounds, and the late night phone calls when they have been in need.

I am also thankful for my ability to love.

I thought I knew what love was, but I didn’t. Instead it was a desperate fight not to let people leave me, because I didn’t like myself. With tasks and friends, and exposure to normal(?) friendships I have learnt to love myself, and with that self-love I have found an inner warmth. It has wrapped around my soul and spread out over people who I let in. And this warmth comes from within, it isn’t an external force. It was unlocked by one person, and to Him I shall be forever grateful. Having given me the kindling and matches, Sir will always hold a special place in my heart. I shall be forever thankful to Him for showing me that I can love, without expectation and without being broken by it. And now? Now there is no stopping me!

See what everyone else is thankful for:
#F4TFriday

Writing is the painting of the voice.

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My beautiful floggers from Kabunza Craftwerks.. For writing love notes on people’s skin.

It has been ten months since I began blogging, but for as long as I can remember I have been writing.

From tentative forays into creative writing as a pre-teen girl, allowing the poetry to bubble over through my adolescence and then more technical writing for study and work. I have always found it easier to communicate my thoughts and feelings through the written word; troublesome and happy memories often become tangled up together in my brain like spaghetti, the writing helps to seperate and smooth. When I first met sir he nurtured this by allowing my thoughts to flow through emails, never stifling me. Tasks, reviews and fantasies. Nothing could stop the depraved contents of my mind seeping onto the screen.

MrN also enjoyed my indulgent emails, and M enjoyed love notes dropping through his post box…

When sir came back into my life at the start of the year the blog that he tasked me with seemed overwhelming, confusing. But he knew me, and wanted me to continue to grow, in skill as well as confidence. It wasn’t long before the fear passed and I embraced this new world of communication. I have found a wonderful community where I can share with like-minded souls and, even when the words dry up, I can participate with images and pouring over the writings of others.

The task was to share the story of how I became the woman I am today.

Over the last ten months I have meandered my way through thoughts and memories to March 2017, all the while writing new memories. As I mentioned in my Everyday is #Boobday post last week I have just celebrated my birthday. Over the last four years I have made some wonderful friends, and one such lovely lady, Dr Lovelace, organised me an utterly awesome weekend away. It started with a flogging workshop with Aemelia Hawk, of Kabunza Craftwerks. Her workshops have been on my bucket list for a long time, and I came away with skills (some very exciting skills) and some beautiful floggers.

Oh, and a shameless selfie!! Fangirl moment…

A whistle-stop tour of the hosting club gave us a peek at the exciting times that could be had on future road trips before we dashed off to our next stop, Ticklemania!! I will write in depth when I catch up to now, but as a curious woman with no previous experience I was oddly nervous. Well, oddly for me. However, saturday night saw me as the newbie, and I could not have been made to feel more welcome. I made some new friends, experienced some new things and can wholeheartedly recommend this event, and venue to Lees, Lers, and kinksters. There was also cake…. It seems that my 36th birthday coincided with the tenth Ticklemania, and who doesn’t like cake on their birthday?! (Or any other time, but then I’m a cake slut!)

Worn out from the days exertions we headed back to our hotel in the early hours.

The next day saw us heading to the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar. This has been on my list since before I’d even heard of Aemelia, and when our planned photo shoot was cancelled the week before we decided to head along. I’m so pleased we did. We bumped into people from the night before, and I met Zak Jane Keir whose blog I have been following for a while, but didn’t recognise her. As I bought a book we chatted about her writing, and the anthologies she had worked on. A conversation followed on all things Eroticon and writing in general. Life doesn’t seem to be getting any less exciting.

What a wonderfully wicked weekend!

It seems I had better get my writing head back on, so many memories to think about, process and enjoy all over again. And the list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter! That’s ok though. As Benjamin Franklin is quoted as saying:

Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.

That’s a piece of advice I can adhere to.

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 Dr Lovelace, me and Aemelia Hawk.

Click on the button to see what everyone else is up to for Wicked Wednesday.

 Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Writing is the painting of the voice was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Basking…. Sinfully

Basking in the light and glory that comes with not giving a damn.

Alice Oseman.

Retreating into myself last week the last thing I wanted to do was socialise.

But I’d arranged to go to dartmoor for some more rope and photos with my friend who took this one, among other pictures. I’ve yet to introduce him properly on here as I haven’t reached the point I met him. But to push my limits with sharing my beloved dartmoor and my soothing coils on a day when I just needed to hide away…

Anyway, he tied me up, and took pictures while I basked in the weak November sun.

My worries just melted away.

And the hikers who stopped for a picnic gave us something to chuckle about.

(Plus, it’s another tits out tor bagging success!)

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

Sinful Sunday

You’re always one decision away from a totally different life.

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A cup of tea and an invitation can change the world…

My first weekend without my boys since I had upped sticks and moved down country, and I was faced with an empty home and an empty heart.

Something had to change. At that exact moment I didn’t know what, but something, anything, had to happen to lift me out of this funk.

I was sitting on the third step, drinking a cup of tea and wondering what my life had come to when my phone dinged.

It was slave Lytton and he had an interesting suggestion. MsD wanted to go to a local event and had summoned him for chauffeur duties. Given that I was local now he wondered if I was child free, and if I would like to meet him up there? THIS is another of those moments where my life path forked and I chose to push myself towards interesting times. Draining my mug I set about choosing an outfit (not difficult as I had such a small wardrobe at the time) before wrapping myself up in a thick woolly jumper, hat and scarf and heading out of the door. The venue was somewhere I had been the previous summer, and had an odd experience.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement.

A quick message to another friend, MT, and I had someone to walk in with. As it turned out, entering as a “couple” reduced the cost significantly which was a bonus! I quickly changed into my shorts and corset style top before stuffing my snuggly clothes in a little locker and joining the growing crowd in the bar area. Finding SL and MsD, she instantly instructed him to get on his knees so that I could have his seat. More people I had met the previous year started to arrive, and brought cakes for another Mistress’s birthday; her sissy maid served them around to the crowd. I’d not met him before, but found him to be charming graciously accepted the cake he proffered.

So many new experiences already, and the night had only just begun…

As people started to make their way to different play spaces I drifted upstairs with MT, SL and MsD. I struggled to climb the stairs in my heels and was soon sat down with MT watching as SL was ordered to strip and lay over the spanking bench. While he did this MsD spread her tools out on top of the cage beside her, looked over at me and said “you’re turn next” as she locked eyes. I was taken back to the previous summer at my first fetish night. 

How could I refuse an offer (haha) like that?

Enjoying the scene which unfolded before me, I grew moist in anticipation. MT and I chatted quietly as we watched, catching up on news and life in general. Soon she was done with SL, sending him to fetch a drink while she sat and regrouped. It is a hard job being a Domme! Refreshed from the rest and drink, she bundled SL into the cage, still naked, and was soon beckoning me over, instructing me to bare myself for her pleasure. As I lay there, exposed and being beaten, I would cast my eyes over to the resting form of SL, who was watching intently from inside his cage. Working through her toys, she sent me off into my own little bubble. My happy place.

Who could possibly have known I would find this place again?

Helping me to my feet she thanked me for allowing her to use her toys on me, it seemed that I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed myself! She walked me to the waiting arms of MT, a fellow sub who knew exactly what I needed as I floated back down to earth. As I became more aware of the world around me MsD came and sat next to me with SL at her feet she kicked off her shoes and he proceeded to worship her delicate feet. Before slipping into her own blissful space she suggested that I may enjoy a foot rub too. “Every woman deserves to be pampered, Domme or sub” and MT echoed this sentiment so I gave in and he slipped to sit on the floor and rubbed my feet too.

I have to admit, it was a lovely way to gently land from sub-space.

After the heartache of M and the turmoil of a big move, for both me and my children, this was a huge sign that I had been making the right decisions. Being welcomed with open arms (and  toy bags) by the local fetish community was wonderful.

I could do it… I was doing it!

And as I bundled myself back into my warm outdoors clothing, in the early hours of that sunday morning, I felt another brick fall from those protective walls I had built up.

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A few days after the event… 

You’re always one decision away from a totally different life was first published on A Leap Of Faith.

 

I am the gate; #Boobday

Exposed at the gate.
I am the gate; whoever enters me will have a real good time…

I know I have mentioned my expanding friendship group ad nauseum, but they are a wonderful group.

Chatting about this blog while exploring Dartmoor for some rope photos I told him about the scavenger hunt. He has a sense of mischief to rival my own, and we laughed heartily as he loosely tied me to the gate just off a steadily busy road.

I look forward to sharing more of our adventures over time….

I had been over the moon to think that I had friends who liked me regardless of my kinks. Discussing this while he tied me to the gate I was genuinely surprised to understand that I have friends who like me because of my kinks!

Every day is a school day.

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Every Friday is #Boobday hosted by Hyacinth is a wonderful body positive meme. Plus #Boobs!

The Scavenger Hunt hosted by Pieces of Jade is a wonderful excuse to explore and expose. Lots of wonderful folks to check out over there.

I am the gate; #Boobday was first published on A Leap of Faith.

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