Caught in the lens

Woman in a vest top wearing a teal rope chest harness and black rope wraps around her thighs. Her long brown hair has fallen in front of her face as she concentrates on tying herself up. Fully relaxed her overweight belly rolls are quite pronounced as she is caught on camera.

Caught on camera, mid tie…

November 2017 saw me at the start of my weight loss. I had also just learnt about an app called whistlecam, recommended by my rope hero and friend to take difficult shots when I am otherwise occupied. Perfect!

Or not… What I hadn’t realised was that my text tone would set the shutter off at my least photogenic moment. I quickly averted my eyes, disgusted at my body and how I had let myself become. Focusing instead on the flying woman in the next (planned) photo.

Moving on to November 2018 I was reminded (by google photos) that I had this picture. It was a strong reminder of how much I had/have changed. Oddly, though I see the rolls what I notice more is my confident hands. I know what came next and I don’t know many people who can suspend themselves quickly, safely and securely.

18 months later the prompt for May’s Sinful Sunday is An Outtake Picture. I’m so proud to share this picture.

Rope doesn’t discriminate on size. Go and get yourself caught.

Sinful Sunday
Caught in the lens 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

 #AtoZChallenge 2019 Tenth Anniversary badge

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

CAN’T DO IT!

Naked thigh with a lion tattoo tied into a futomomo with rainbow rope. Shared for the post Can't do it.
My beautifully bratty friend, as tied by me.

My brain was screaming loudly, though my mouth remained clamped shut. Silent.

Staring at the blank screen in front of me I had been counting down the hours until my deadline. That had now passed, words for the extension request almost failing me too. It was the worst case of block I have ever experienced and the cause of it was entirely unknown. The screaming continued, louder by the day. Drowning out every little piece of understanding that sat in the recesses of my brain. Strange how running quieted my grey matter brat. While thundering around the trails I could form sentences, prove my understanding and make headway with the words.

As soon as I sat down to that little screen the paragraphs evaporated.

They came eventually. Dribs and drabs of incoherent blathering. Not up to my normal standard, but technically I wouldn’t need to hand this one in to get a pass mark so I could afford this temporary glitch. Stretching back in my seat I growled. The frustration coming out in a growl of rage, my inner brat vocalising for the first time. With her voice came hot tears, burning at my eyes and clawing to get out. Angrily swiping them away with my sleeve I knocked the laptop with my elbow and brought up the internet browser.

Fuck It!!

As I’m here I’ll just have a quick look… 

My Xhamster login was automatic, and my favourites easy enough to pick through, to find exactly what was going to hit the spot. Hot tears dried and dormant folds began to heat and swell. Dropping my hands to my pussy, stroking gently in time the slaves hands as he stroked his mistresses clit. Delving into my inviting wet hole with more vigour than I’d realised I had in me while his colleague fucked her withe shiny black dildo gag. Climaxing with the Domme on the screen as her body was wracked with sensation, gushing over my cushioned chair as her mouth poured obscenities at those caged boys.

The brat was quiet, for the first time in a couple of days. Sated…

Maybe now the brat has cum the words will follow.

Can’t do it? Won’t do it, until she gets her way.

#AtoZChallenge 2019 Tenth Anniversary badge
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Can’t do it! was first published on A Leap of Faith.

You don’t have to be naked to be sexy.

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Photo credit: Ambrose Photography

Sometimes a sheer body stocking and some light bondage is all you need to feel super sexy.

I love what a bra does to my clothed figure, but without the covering of fabric I still feel lumpy and bumpy in an unattractive way. With weight loss comes baggy skin, a delay in the shape change.  A body stocking seems to soften the lines a little, and with some ropes over the top I’m always a happy bunny. I can control where the lines go, accentuate the waist and highlight the breasts.

In bondage I have the freedom to be me, and to be sexy.

Lingerie is for Everyone

You don’t have to be naked to be sexy was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Life is more fun if you play games

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“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.

roller coaster.jpg

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

Just one more thing.

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Rope by Angel666jr and location and photo credit to Urbstract Photography.

“It will be fun” he said as he took my hand, encouraging me from the bed.

“You won’t need to get dressed, just stay as you are.” Down the stairs we went, peering through sleepy eyes and feeling the cold blast of fresh morning air as he excitedly bundled me to through door. Camera bag slung over his shoulder, wonky smile caressing his lips and two thermal mugs of tea in the hand not holding mine, he’d left the car engine running when he came to rouse me. “Just get in, you’ll love it once we’re there.”

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as we crested a hill and he pulled in to a neglected gateway.

The view was beyond beautiful, and we sat for a moment. Still chilly in my long nightie and bare feet I was surprised when he hopped out of the car and ran round to open my door. “No… No, no, no, no NO!!!” But there was no dissuading him, and I reluctantly stepped from the car, again taking his hand and allowing him to lead me through a gate, under some dense bushes and up a muddy bank until… In front of me there was a derelict cottage, entirely invisible from the road. Bathed in the glow of the rising sun we sat together on the doorstep and watched the day start to unfold before us, I barely noticed the chill air, safe with his arm wrapped around my shoulders and a mug of tea in my hands.

“One more thing before we can go back to the car” he stood up and retrieved his camera bag. “I want you to see inside.” With that he was off, and I was left to follow him through the detritus of the rooms, scattered with the clutter of a life well lived. Stopping in the kitchen I was distracted by the cans and bottles, left on the shelves for nature to retrieve. Use by dates long since passed.

So absorbed I didn’t register him taking my hands behind my back, biding me, restricting me.

As he rounded me I was lifted into position under a beam covered in dusty tea towels. Kissing my neck I melted as he attached the upline to my bindings. Looking me up and down I realised he thought something was missing. Stroking  my legs he lifted my nightie up and away, before taking a rusty blade from the table and slicing the flimsy cotton fabric. As soon as he had free access he gently lifted my knee and bound it to the beam as well, those dark eyes on mine. “Higher?” is the question that fell from his lips though it wasn’t one I had the choice to answer as my planted foot and the beam took up the strain. Next my hair was tied, that tightness on my scalp intensifying the arousal spreading through me.

“One more thing…” his eyes lower now, and I noticed the blade again.

Fear rising, I flushed as he grabbed the cloth covering my breasts. I managed to breathe as I realised he just wanted me exposed. Milky white breasts on show. Whispering that I was his “ethereal beauty” he turned to leave, looking over his shoulder with a smirk (no,THAT smirk) on his lips and humour in his eyes “Don’t go anywhere” and I heard his footsteps echo through the building. In my rope bubble I was daydreaming about the lives that had been lived in this home, the peaceful meanderings of a busy brain which has been bound and set free. It was then that I noticed he had come back. What gave him away wasn’t his footsteps on the crunchy floor. No, it was the sound of his camera, the focus whizzing in the low light. Was it nearly time for breakfast I wondered as my gaze met his through the lens.

“Just one more thing…” As he placed the camera down, his lips met mine and his hand reached for the soft white flesh of my thighs…

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

This week’s prompt for Wicked Wednesday is:

If I was taking an erotic photograph of you, I would ask you to…

February Photofest

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

Wind Tor for #Boobday

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I can’t control the wind, but I can adjust the sail.

On a recent trip to Dartmoor with my friend we visited the aptly named Wind Tor. He had tied a simple chest harness before we left the house, and had great fun fighting the strong winds on Dartmoor.

Looking back at the pictures now, a month on, I am reminded that I can withstand the storm.

I apologise for the lack of posts recently; chaos does not reflect the challenges I have faced over the last 2 months. As things settle down again I will be back to sharing my story once more. Adjusting the sails while I travel through the fog has been scary… many thanks to the man who has shown me I will always find a way.

But for now, Every Friday is Boobday from the top of Wind Tor.

 boob day meme

Wind Tor for #Boobday 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.

Feelings that come back are feelings that never really went away.

Full body hishi

It was a saturday morning like many others.

My childfree weekend had freed me up to attend a local peer rope workshop. One tie in particular has foxed me since I took up tying and there was to be a demo that I did not want to miss. It was to be shown last, and as I made myself and my bunny a cup of tea before it started I pulled out my phone. One new email:

N

How’s life?

S

I felt the colour drain from my cheeks, but as I waited for the tea to brew, reading and re-reading those 4 unassuming words, my messenger pinged. I had sent him a message shortly before my first big event 16 months ago, not long after he left, and now, when I am about to learn a tie that I am desperate to master, he replies!

…back in the UK this week…I owe you an intense scene…if you want one…

If I want one…Why wouldn’t I want one? Sir….my Sir…20 months have passed and you are still in my mind. 

My brain running at a million miles per hour I finished making the drinks and took them back through. My bunny noticed something was up, offered me to sit the tie out once I had explained the situation. I didn’t want to though. Rope is a place where I go when the world seems too much. And that, right then, was definitely too much. I muddled through the rest of the workshop, and got to grips with the skill I wanted to learn, bursting into the fresh air after and replying as soon as I was safely back in my car…with an oddly short message. A brief exchange and we provisionally arrange to see each other the following friday, if he can make it, and he asks what I have been up to since he went away. I promise a full reply later, but have to continue with my day.

And so it continued through the week. I filled him in with a brief summary of the last 20 months of my life (It may have taken 2 hours to type) with a small selection of pictures. There were tasks; some I could choose for myself, some he requested, all pushing me forward as had always been the way, with him knowing what I find particularly challenging but never crossing the fixed limits. It is a long time since I have raised my eyes to the ceiling and, with a grin, wondered what on earth I am doing, but as ever with him I was doing it all because I wanted to. We discuss the potential for future tasks in his absence, with him working abroad for a couple of months and only back for short periods, and with limited access to email, he is unable to make promises to me. Somehow I don’t mind, just having him back in my life is exactly what I need. I hadn’t let myself think on how much I had missed him and our dynamic, but now I can see why no-one else has come close.

And then Friday arrived, along with confirmation that he would be free and in the area.

I arrived at the hotel, prepared and excited. I collected myself outside his door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. Reverie can play tricks on the mind, and I had almost hoped I would leave disappointed, say “thank you for the memories Sir, you have been wonderful but it’s time for me to move along.” But my memories were crystal clear, and our short time together was as satisfying as I those I had replayed over the interlude.

With the review sent the following day, another task followed, harder this time, always harder, and I completed it well…

Very well done N

Sir

And then he is gone again, as I knew he would be.

But unlike last time I have tasks, an ongoing connection with the man to whom I owe so much, and all I can offer in return is my submission.

This blog is my journey… how I came to this point and onwards, ever onwards.

 

 

 

 

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