An exhibitionist is nothing without a voyeur.

Goodness me, have I got my bottom out in public? Anyone would think I’m an exhibitionist…

Certainly, if you are a regular reader of my posts you will have seen Scavenger Hunt posts and public exposure for Boobday. I always love the buzz of getting my bits out in places where I could get caught while ensuring that I don’t. This is something that was nurtured by Sir, and last week I played a little game with a friend you’ve yet to meet. It would last Monday to Wednesday, due to family commitments and my Eroticon trip.

It didn’t take long to get my head back in the game.

Monday saw me travelling to an appointment in a nearby town. I had planned a run and my change of clothes for afterwards left me with a chilly chest.

What you can’t see in this picture is the bustling beer garden across the river behind me, or the busy car park, public toilets and footpath that I was facing. There is something intoxicating about that fear, it rarely fails to turn me on. The concept of an orgasm as reward is a new one on me. Having said that my reward on Monday was delicious, the thrill of the memories coursing through me.

Tuesday was a similar picture, but of my bottom rather than my breasts.

It was a much busier day for me on Tuesday, but undeterred I formed a partial plan. I would head out for my run and drop my trousers at some point. I was swiftly running out of miles and there was no let up in the people wandering around with their dogs. The path branched off at one point and the walkers I was just about to overtake took the right hand path. I stopped at the entrance to the left path, set up my camera and dropped my trousers. The resulting picture was so exciting to look back at. If pictures had audio. You would have heard the two walkers chattering away behind the bush to my right.

I had been told that Wednesday would be a big ask.

Knowing that I was planning to run on Dartmoor I had ideas as to what would be requested. It was a surprise to see that he was asking me to:

Pee through my knickers.
Wring the knickers out in my mouth.
For the last mile of my run remove your shoes and run barefoot.

I have always been lucky in that I have been able to question tasks, challenges and games. Wednesdays game was no different. 1 and 2 were no problem. I would look forward to wetting my underwear and sucking the piss soaked fabric. What needed to be communicated was that my training is not up for negotiation. As much as I enjoy being barefoot I will not risk my feet unnecessarily. Explaining my point the third request was revoked. There was something I was unsure of though. Should I put my knickers back on or wear them internally?

That seemed like a good idea to him.

Pleased with my suggestion, it was agreed that I would wear them for the remainder of my run. Sadly the wind was so fierce I could barely stand when I arrived on the Moor. A short walk made the decision for me, it wasn’t safe for me to run up there. So I visited a well trodden path. Again, full of dog walkers! I took my chance as soon as possible once I needed to go. Crouching in the middle of a field I could see for a hundred metres in each direction. Enough time to get the job done. Setting up my camera I set the video, completed the tasks in hand (and on-hand) stuffing the wet fabric up into my pussy I squeezed my walls to make sure that as much excess liquid was expelled as possible. Pulling up my leggings and running off I soon caught up with a couple walking along hand in hand, exercising their dog. Passing them I slopped through a muddy puddle, almost slipping over on my way.

As I slipped my core and pelvic floor joined forces to keep me upright.

I felt the cold muddy slime splash up my legs as hot wet pee gushed out of my pussy. The contrast was electric and I blushed as I smiled at the innocent bystanders. Did they know? How could they? The man though… He certainly had an enthusiastic look on his face. Arriving home much later I pulled the panties from myself, sucked them dry and then poured myself into a nice hot bath.

I felt the filth and grime soak away from my flesh, but it would never be washed away from my spirit.

20th March 2019 3

Life is more fun if you play games

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday – rope tied between my legs front to back, attached to the suspender belt. Knickers over the top.
Tuesday – leather attached to the suspender belt in the same way as the rope. Again with the knickers.
Wednesday – Sensual material attached in the same way. And knickers again.
Thursday A.M. Scouring sponge to be work inside my knickers, scouring side up.
Thursday P.M. Sponge to be soaked in Tea Tree oil, with the sponge side up this time.
Friday- TBC

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

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

“Fuck” was the silent scream in my head.

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

Tuesday was the leather.

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

The sensual fabric was wonderful.

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

Then the timer started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a week!! A true roller coaster.

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

10th March 2019 4

BDSM is a game #SinfulSunday

I think it’s important to remember that BDSM is a game.

The game and the rules are decided by the players: clothes to be worn, places to touch, injuries to avoid.

But games should always be fun…

Even if it’s the kind of game that leaves you bound, broken and abandoned on the stairs of a derelict cottage.

BDSM is a game #SinfulSunday was first published on A Leap of Faith.

23rd February 2019 18

Christmas – Peace, love and joy?

santa claus wearing boxing gloves — Photo by Ma Boîte A Photos on Pexels.com

Christmas 2016 was not one to be repeated.

On paper it should have been something to look forward to, a time to cherish with my boys. P had told me, in no uncertain terms, that when I ended things with him I had ruined Christmas for him forever. With that in mind I would “need to have the children for the big day.” No big problem, you would think, but he had always made me feel like a failure at Christmas so any joy that I may have brought from my own childhood had been reduced to zero over our marriage. The confidence I had in making it a nice day for the boys was not high. Add to that his desperately sad Facebook post on Christmas day 2015, and my eldest spent the build up to the festivities worrying about his dad.

What about M? He would be around, surely?

The plan was that he would spend Christmas eve with his mum and the day with his dad, who had just lost his wife to cancer. Then he would hot foot it up the coast to spend Christmas night and boxing day with me and the boys. I was always excited to see him, and I knew the boys would wrap him up in festive fun. M was as enthusiastic about Christmas as I was, and when he called me one lunchtime with a strained voice I knew something was up. There was an offer to join a friend of his to deliver a yacht from Portugal to the uk. He didn’t know whether he should go, or if he needed to stay and fulfill his duties as son and boyfriend. I gave him my blessing, genuinely excited by this opportunity. A little jealous perhaps, but genuinely happy for his opportunity. Once he had built up the courage to talk to his family they were all happy for him too.

As the dutiful girlfriend I drove him and his friend to the airport, dropping them in the car park before heading on my way.

One message pinged through before I was 5 miles away:

Thank you for bringing me, and being so wonderfully you. I hope you are not too sad, show me your smile. xxx

To which I responded with a quick selfie, of me trying to smile with wet eyes. I had a few hours to kill so I went on a mini adventure of my own to a nearby seaside town where I could have a cuppa and a walk on the beach. Sitting down to a steaming brew after a long cold walk I opened my phone. First thing was a message:

My beautiful girl. 🙂 Fire alarms, airport evacuated, delayed flight. Off again now. I’ll let you know when I’m safely landed. I love you xxx

Then I tapped my Facebook app as I sipped the cup of brown liquid. M had updated his profile picture. There I was! The picture I had sent him just a couple of hours ago. That put a smile on my face.

Getting home, still smiling and feeling loved, I collected the boys.

They had been with P, for their first Christmas. Hyped up, full of sugar and singing daddy’s praises I got them to bed. Two more days to the big day and they were only going to get more excitable, as children do! By Christmas eve I was feeling overwhelmed. Getting them to bed on the night before christmas was such a challenge. Then I had to organise the presents and by the time midnight slipped past I was in floods of tears. Dreading the noise and excitement of the following day, missing M, just wanting a cuddle… And to top it all off I had burnt my red cabbage trying to get ahead of the game! A game I didn’t want to play, but that I felt it was expected of me.

Surrounded by wrapping paper and piles of gifts my phone suddenly began to ring.

Through the tears and the snot I answered the phone. He was just pulling in to harbour where the two of them would be resting and collecting the third sailor for the long stretch home. He missed me and wanted to say hello as he knew how hard I would be finding the preparations. We chatted about the boat and his crew mate as well as how his journey was going so far. With his voice in my heart I slept well and woke to the excited voices of two little boys who had received a visit from father Christmas.

The day was as difficult as I had expected.

Excited children and my grumpy mum. My home filled up with my brother and his family mid-afternoon, just when all I wanted was to shut the doors and regain some calm again. More food, more gifts, more excited children. And one more phone call from M, who had spent the day trying to cook a roast dinner as they sailed across the bay of Biscay. Now they were all sat on the deck eating together, and he was in range of masts so could talk to me and the boys. Somehow that grounded me enough to get through the rest of the day until, with the boys in bed and the dishes done I was able to sit down quietly and chill out. Stretching out on the sofa I flicked on the Christmas news and saw that George Michael had died. This was all the encouragement I needed to let out the tears which I had been holding back all day.

Surely the next year would be better?

Christmas – Peace, love and joy? was originally posted on A Leap of Faith.

19th July 2018 0

Tag: game