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.

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

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