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!

boob day meme

Check out what else is happening over at Boobday.

#F4TFriday

 

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

Setting Fire to #Boobday

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I had a visit this week from the lovely Dr Lovelace for dinner, a catch up and some fire play.

As seems to be tradition for us we both ended up topless, this time setting fire to things in my courtyard. With the sad news of Keith Flints death on Monday it seemed a fitting tribute to thank him for the quarter century of musical memories through #Boobday.

I was only ten when I heard them for the first time, my brother introduced me to the joys of muting the TV and having music on while the pictures continued. And I will always remember the time I was dragged from the mosh pit when I saw them live, P didn’t think I was able to take care of myself. Keith was on stage not far from me, I could almost feel the heat from the fire in his eyes I was so close.

Thank you Keith for stoking the fire of my hedonism all those years ago, rest easy and I’ll see you on the other side.

Hy tits banner in black and white v neck t shirt

Setting Fire to #Boobday was first published 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

Stop making memories with people you’d rather forget. #4

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There isn’t any body from my past I’d rather forget. Each and every person who has come into my life has helped me grow into the person I am today. The only person I would rather forget is the broken shell of a woman that I became, but even then….the memory keeps me mindful of other peoples struggles.

So, as its my blog, instead of thinking of a song to remind me of the woman I wish I could forget, I have chosen a song which reminds me of the woman I have become. The woman who still has so many paths to explore and pages to turn. Because I want to do Bad Things.  (By Jace Everett.)

 I love music and am always on the lookout for something new to listen to, so I hope the 30-Day Song Challenge inspires some of you to share.

Summer is a state of mind #3

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I have some very strong memories relating to summer, and on an early autumn jaunt for a day of climbing with my boys and one of my play partners Moby- Porcelain came on and I was transported back almost 20 years. Memories of summer afternoons riding with my brother through dappled sunlight, and trips to the beach flooded my mind in full technicolour. I should imagine that fits the brief for day 3, a song that reminds me of summer.

I love music and am always on the lookout for something new to listen to, so I hope the 30-Day Song Challenge inspires some of you to share.

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.

TMI Tuesday: 15th May 2018

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1. Who was your favorite cartoon character as a child? I always loved Dogtanian. It was one of the only cartoons I remember watching, I was usually out in the mud or chasing my brother round on my bike. He was always the quiet one, and the one who fixed things when the others were less than capable.

2. What makes you cry? I didn’t think a lot made me cry, aside from when I am very tired. But it seems that people (Sir in particular) can make me cry by showing me they have faith in me and my ability. I spend so much time working on myself and my growth that I sometimes forget A- How far I have come, and B- that other people can see it. It’s nice, and they are always happy tears.
3. What similarity between you and your significant other do you love? Oooof, I have made sure that people who are significant in my life are kind and thoughtful. I try to live my life that way and value that in others.
4. What characteristic do you admire in others that you feel you are lacking? I admire quick thinking. I am a thinker but it takes me a while to formulate my thoughts, and my comebacks are usually a bit slow. Also, it takes me a while to get a joke, unless it matches with my dry sense of humour.
5. If you could eliminate one thing from your daily schedule, what would it be? If I didn’t need to sleep I would be so much more productive!

Bonus: You can trade places with one person for a day, who would it be? I recently completed a wonderful course with my oldest son. It was all about recovering from domestic abuse, and opening up the lines of communication around healthy and safe relationships. It was such a challenging thing to do for so many reasons, but there have been so many positive outcomes for both of us. I met other mums and their children who have had similar experiences to me. One of the mums was only 6 months out of her relationship, and her three children all struggled in different ways with significant additional needs as a result of the trauma they have suffered. She was in such a state, understandably so. I would love to swap with her for a day; I think she could really use the day off!

TMI Tuesday blog

 

I think part of me will always be waiting for you

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I knew that Sir had been invited to a meeting nearby, and that he had arranged his trip around when K and I were available.

He had mentioned that he felt his contract was coming to an end and that things were set to change again, mentioning that he may have more time to focus on different things. I guessed that he was making peace with his career coming to an end as he had hinted over the recent months that he was close to retirement from his chosen career.

The day after K and I had met with him he sent me an email in the early afternoon.

Confirming that he had thought the meeting would be to formally wrap up his current contract. He had ended up meeting with a new potential employer, discussing a full-time permanent overseas contract which he felt he would be offered over the following days. If that happened he would take it, he wasn’t in a position to turn down work; I completely understood his reasons for this.

But what would it mean for us? 

He would be out of the country for long periods of time and contact would be very difficult to maintain, so he gave me the options.

I will let you decide how you wish to continue. If you want me to contact you, as and when, I will do so. In the meantime, your rules etc. would be removed and you will be free to act and do what you wish.

Or If you wish to just get on with your own thing, I will not contact you. Either way you will have no restrictions on you.

It was a simple decision for me. I was his, I think I always had been. If that changed while he was away I would tell him when he got back.

News on the contract didn’t reach him for a couple of days, but he informed me as soon as he knew on the friday. They had offered him the contract and he was to leave the country the following monday. With packing  and work permits to organise there wouldn’t be time to see each other before he left, so I sent him some pictures to enjoy while he was travelling… I didn’t want him to get bored.

I was surprised that I wasn’t devastated at the news of him leaving. 

Don’t misunderstand me, I was very sad that he wouldn’t be guiding me or using me…  But I was genuinely excited for him. I had seen the challenges he faced while looking for work, and knowing that he loved what he did and could continue for an unknown amount of time made me really happy. It is now almost 2 years later, and I still feel the tears prickling at what I would be missing, but the over-riding emotion was always happiness for him. I understand now what those feelings mean, though putting the right words to it is still challenging.

Unlike when he had his accident I knew the score this time.

I would enjoy my time without him, organise my life and make plans. Continue to grow and challenge myself to explore safely. He gave me some guidance to keep me safe, and I have been following them ever since. All common sense, but some things I would never have considered… Seeing how I was when left to my own devices before I was very grateful for this support and preparation. I asked him what would happen if something were to go seriously wrong for him, like when he was in his crash. I didn’t want to be always wondering if the worst had happened. So he promised that he would “get someone to drop you an email.”

Then he was gone. 

And my journey was set to change direction again…

 

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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