Marvellously TMI Tuesday: 10th July 2018.

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3. My heart skipped a beat yesterday

It is that time of the week where the TMI Tuesday questions are calling to be answered, so here I go…

1. What is the most marvelous thing you have ever seen?

Four years ago my youngest son was very unwell, at one point we didn’t think he would make it home. Not six hours after his lowest point his big brother turned up to visit him in hospital. The sick little toddler in his hospital crib immediately stood up and started babbling away to his superhero. The love that those two have for each other is phenomenal, and is the most marvellous thing I have ever seen.

2. Are you a starter or a finisher?

I would always have considered myself a starter. I get so many great ideas that I get started with, but often seemed to lose focus. Tasks from Sir have changed this, I have become a consummate finisher. Tenacious in my desire to finish what I start. He has given me the gift of focus.

3. When did your heart last ‘skip a beat’? Why?

Yesterday I was on Dartmoor for a quick run, and I stopped to bag a tor. Once I had put myself away again I looked around and the view from my position took my breath away. I wish my photographic skills could show you just how wonderful the view was. Vast open spaces regularly make my heart ‘skip a beat’.

4. What does your perfect day look like?

I have so many options for this, but some quiet time in a wide open space, happy children, great food and wonderful company would all be high up there. A spanking?? Oh, yes please! And some contact from Sir before I go to sleep.

5. What would you call your autobiography?

A million little leaps.

Maybe…

Ideas on a postcard please.

Bonus:  How does it feel to be photographed?

Four years ago this was incredibly hard. There are very few pictures of me before then. 15 years ago I told my wedding guests off for constantly wanting to take my photo, and the emotional abuse that I endured with P the desire to be captured on camera only decreased. With the arrival of Sir in my life came tasks that encouraged me to be more comfortable in my own body, including sharing my pictures with him. Since then I have discovered I can take an ok selfie, and even had a risky shoot with a local photographer. Still not too comfortable in front of the camera with my clothes on, but I guess that is the problem with being confident in my own skin?

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On the train tracks with Urbstract Photography.
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Scavenger-Hunt-Bronze

 

If you are too busy to laugh, you are too busy.

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A couple of weeks ago my good friend, Dr Lovelace was helping me with some tasks and we got the wax out for some extreme body writing.

I love the way the wax I poured on her back has dribbled down her sides, and the flashes of red and blue. What I enjoyed was her reaction to the wax hitting her skin. Like me she giggles with the sensation and I have never seen someone else behave the same way. What I enjoyed most was removing the wax crust when it was time to clean up, rubbing her skin down with a wooden blade and then some exfoliating gloves. Again, lots of laughter filled my house.

Next time we have other plans, I imagine I shall share those adventures here too.

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

Sinful Sunday

 

I am but your fool they say… That is what I think.

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I remember that evening clearly. It was a couple of days before my birthday, almost a year to the day since I had ended my marriage and I was having a moment of reverie. Thinking about how life was so much better since moving P out, new friendships and how I would love to see Sir, and show him how much I had grown since he went away. It was rare that I allowed myself to miss him, I always felt foolish when I did, vulnerable and childlike.

I was sat in my bathroom, running the bath for my boys

Ping” says my phone in my pocket, alerting me to a very rare Facebook message. Puzzled, I looked and it was from a new contact… S Dom. Did I want to accept this message? My brain couldn’t quite work out who the message was from. There was only one person that it could realistically be, but my brain wouldn’t accept that He would be messaging me. It had been seven months since we had last been in contact and for all I knew he was dead. I certainly wasn’t ever expecting to hear from him again. So I asked who it was, and when he confirmed that he was who I thought it was, Sir. I couldn’t hold back my tears.

The only response I had was a selfie including tears, and “If this is a joke it’s not funny, I thought you were dead”

He gave me a new email address and we spent some time there chatting. He explained what had happened to him, why he had been absent. He had been involved in a bad car crash and been badly injured. He had thought he had let me know, though it had all been a bit hazy and he couldn’t be sure. He apologised for the upset he had caused me, and then I saw a glimpse of that playful deviant who meant so much  “I always did like to keep you in the dark though ;)”  I had questions to ask and things I wanted to say. He patiently listened to all I had to get off of my chest, and answered many questions as they came up, including these:

  • I had learnt to love foot play, would he indulge me? I can do that with you, but it would be when I feel it is appropriate.
  • I have friends who are dominant males, could I keep them? I have no problem with you having friends N.
  • If I mess up and need punishment would he tell me? I will always tell you N
  • Would it be possible to have an alternate contact method, just in case…? I will provide you with a number, but expect you to contact me in the media instructed.

Reading back through those emails today is interesting, to say the least.

His needs had changed since we had last been in contact. He had been out of the scene since his accident, and was just getting back into the swing of things. He wanted a semi-regular scene partner who would work hard for him and want to please. He understood that the interim had been very difficult for me, and that was in part due to him. What he didn’t want was for me to be emotionally compromised. I was a busy single mum of two, his needs matched mine: a semi regular scene partner who I could trust and wanted to work hard for. I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t have some emotional attachment to him, for me the submission comes from there, but my boys and our future remain my priority. So we agreed…

He would always be aloof, I would remain aware of that and look after my heart.

I had forgotten this conversation until today, re-reading our correspondence, and it is the same as I feel today. An emotional attachment without expectations on him to reciprocate.

Anyway, I told him that I wanted to continue with him, and he set me tasks again. He asked me to fill him in with what I had been up to, to tell him about my new-found interest in foot play, and my experiences with pee play. Also, he wanted to know about my home life and availability for him. I got started straight away, pleased to have re-established contact and to be working hard for him again. Was I a fool for wanting him back in my life? Maybe, but if I was at least I was His fool.

The time we had been apart melted away and we were back to painting our picture again.

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Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.

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I wonder how many submissives have been tasked by their dominant with anal stretching?

Both of mine required this of me during my time with them. It was a task that I relished because anal play is a particular weakness for me…. It was my first step outside of “normal” sex at the tender age of….um….16. I have always loved it, and since beginning to stretch and train in that area play has been even more satisfying. Since learning to cleanse myself the prospect of ass-to-mouth has been an achievable fantasy, and I had shared this perversion with MrN. Because I was pushing against my hard limit of scat the risk felt really taboo, but I knew that I would never have to go there if it was dirty.

So far so good, no mishaps with my cleaning routine, and a gradual increase in the depth and girth of stretch.

MrN was happy and I was happy. Things were progressing nicely. And then we both had an impromptu evening; his partner was out for the night, and my children had a surprise overnight with their dad. He asked me to be available for him at 7.30. He told me he would be pushing me further, and I should prepare myself for all eventualities. There was the problem… I was working until 6 and had an hours drive home. There would not be enough time to clean thoroughly, and doing half a job was worse than not doing it at all. After checking if there was any way out of work sooner and realising there wasn’t, I sent him a quick email outlining the problem I was facing.

His response was that if it came out dirty he expected me to clean it.

“I’m sorry but, as discussed, that is a hard limit, I will not be doing that” was pinged back immediately, and he acquiesced. If it was visibly dirty I wouldn’t need to suck it clean. There had been a brief moment when I thought I should not have said anything, just gone along with his request. But the reason I (we?) have fixed limits is because we know what we are not willing to do, under any circumstances. And making myself heard was a new skill which I had been working on, with both P and H. Now that I had enough self-confidence to speak up, I wasn’t going to stay quiet if I needed to.

The drive home was good, my mind filled with impure thoughts about the approaching session.

I still didn’t know what it was going to be: a plug? a vibrator? a selection of pens?Wondering about all of the possibilities for the evening it is amazing that I got home in one piece! After freshening up and having a quick bite to eat it was time to catch up properly. I already knew that it would be an anal training session, but I was not expecting him to request I find one thing larger than my largest plug which I would be able to insert without damaging myself. Frantically searching my home I found my way to the kitchen and rummaging through my utensil drawer I found my rolling pins. I had two, one with corners at the end, and one with curved knobbly ends. The former would damage me, if I could even get it past the entrance. The latter was a winner. I chose to sheath it because… well… health and hygiene!

My choice went down well with MrN…

…and with lube, patience and a firm hand I managed to exceed my expectations. But then came the withdrawal. Oh dear! I’m sure you don’t need me to elaborate further than it not being clean. Safe in the knowledge that I had fought my corner and I could just rip off the condom without repercussions I decided that it was now or never. And how could I say that it was a hard limit if I had never tried…. It may end up being an amazing experience, in the same way that pee play had been, maybe? With my eyes raised to the ceiling with an all too familiar smile, questioning my sanity, I did it.

I cleaned the rolling-pin!

Actually, I didn’t fully clean it, but I did enough to cement that hard limit into place. As always I had pushed myself past what I was comfortable with, exceeding my expectations and pleasing MrN in the process. He had respected me and my limits, when I had reminded him of them, I had found it in myself to try something which I had would never have done but… I’m a curious girl.

The next week P decided he needed a rolling-pin… Guess which one he took. 

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If it scares you it might be a good idea to try.

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The saying “Be careful what you wish for” comes to mind as I continue on with my memories.

Actually the exact phrase that comes to mind is Be careful what videos you save to an xHamster account that you share with your Dominant, but it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. I have mentioned before that MrN wanted me to set up a shareable page on the popular porn site xHamster and that I had one already set up with videos of things I was curious about. When we had our next scheduled evening there was part of me which wished I had cleared out the account before sharing the log-in details, started with a clean slate with him. While I was trying to maintain concentration on the conversation, with a medium butt plug in place, he brought up one of the videos I had saved a while back…

It was a lady who was fisting herself, and she looked like she was really rather enjoying it.

He asked what had inspired my choosing that one, so I came clean. When I had started on my journey with Sir he had asked about fisting, and I said I would try but was scared as I didn’t think it would be possible for me. I may be a mum of two, but they were both born by caesarean! So I had taken to the internet for research and inspiration, following a trail of filth through stretching and fisting, anal fisting and rosebuds, finally ending up on self-fisting. The video I had saved (and watched over and over to make sure it was real, obviously) was of a young lady getting into an uncomfortable looking position, and actually managing to insert her whole hand into vagina. The faces she pulled while the video went on were not particularly alluring, but the fact that she could do it made me excited that one day I may be able to do that too. And if I could do it to myself…? Well, someone would be able to do it to me.

Why don’t you get started then? he asked me.

He made a very good case, I could take the time that I needed to gain flexibility and also to stretch myself. He didn’t mind if it took a while, but he would like to see that I was trying. The facts were that I had saved it myself and wanted to do it even though I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to. These made a good enough reason for him to ask. Not including his desire to watch me in my very own video for him… complete with those faces, which were unattractive to me but had the opposite effect on him.

That was all the incentive I needed.

At the time I was slim and fit, with very little excess tummy and a decent level of flexibility and strength. I worked out that if I wore my killer heels and perched on my bed the angles all made sense and I could reach where I needed to. It helps that I am partially double-jointed, the only use I have found for this oddity of my body (aside from being able to win hands-on-the-floor competitions at the pub.) Confident that I could reach I started working on stretching myself so that my hand would fit. The reading I had done focussed on fisting someone else. Did you know there is a Facebook group for fisting, complete with safety guidance and technique discussions??!! Because of the angles I wouldn’t be able to fully twist my wrist at the halfway point…

I was just going to have to work it out for myself, google just wasn’t ready for my curiosity!!

It took me a couple of weeks, with regular stretching and attempts, to get to the point where I thought it may be possible. I had been keeping MrN in the loop as per my progress, and he was encouraging in the face of my scepticism. I still didn’t believe that this would work. So I set up the camera, got my heels on and perched on the edge of my bed. Using my wand to moisten me up a little I used insertables to stretch myself open, and once I had an orgasm there seemed little else to do but go for it. I lubed my hand up and started.

Feeling the ripples from the preceding climax around my bunched up fingers was quite arousing in itself.

Getting to the knuckles I started to pull my fingers into a ball and managed a slight twist in my wrist. It had the desired effect of drawing the rest of my hand in, like a corkscrew. I was so surprised that I had managed it. And I was so full, I could feel my arousal all over my hand now, as I clamped down on myself. It is an indescribable sensation, and had I been more comfortable  I would have stayed there longer, but I was starting to get cramp in my side and had to remove my hand. Taking a deep breath and feeling my overstretched muscles return to size I was left with a sense of calm. The kind of peace that I associate with deep sexual satisfaction. And while the video was uploading for sending to MrN I enjoyed the company of my Doxy for a little longer, and floated off in my little bubble of joy.

The feeling of achieving a long-held goal is powerfully erotic for me, and knowing that I had pleased someone else as well… I was one happy submissive.

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If the plan doesn’t work change the plan, but never the goal.

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MrN and I had an evening scheduled in for conversation and a short scene.

As usual it had been planned the week before, he was working late and my boys were with their dad. We had tried it when they were home, but their bedtime pushed back our time for talk so everything became rushed which is never ideal. We spoke about my time with H coming to an end. He was supportive of my decision to end that play relationship and I felt less like I had been over-reacting to something small and insignificant. We also spoke about the kinky crafting I had been tasked with.

It was time to get those strings out from their hiding place. 

The four lengths of string with a loop in one end and a peg on the other were requested, as was my Doxy wand. When he told me to put the loops over my big toes (two on each side) the light dawned and I realised where the pegs were for.

Yes N, run the string up your leg and attach the peg to the lip on that side. 

So I did as he asked, and it felt wonderful…

Now, bring yourself to orgasm with your wand and as you cum for me I want you to straighten your legs and pull off the pegs.

I actually felt fear at this point. It had been a long time since I had experienced pain in this way (in any way.) Sir had used clamps on my nipples and labia. He had also made me orgasm with a wand while jiggling the clamps, and occasionally he would rip them off during my climaxes. I knew I loved the sensation, but it had been so long and I had never had to torture myself.

I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do it, I was afraid that it would hurt too much. 

After a moment’s hesitation (it felt like a lifetime!!) I applied the wand, starting with a mild vibration as I had decided to start slowly and build up intensity. MrN was happy with that too, I think he sensed the nerves in my message. No sooner had I pressed down than two of the pegs twisted apart, the other two popping off. Hmmm, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

No problem, tie some more on, try again.

So I did, and the same thing happened again! I realised that my lips must be too voluptuous for the pegs and if I was to complete this task I would have to think of something else. Looking in my box of tricks I spotted the bulldog clips. Dare I??? If the pegs had scared me imagine how I was feeling looking at those!

But I don’t like to be defeated, and I had one job to do this evening. Produce a painful orgasm.

Could I do it? Well… I could try, at least. And if it was too much I could go back to the drawing board and head to the shops the next day. I had to cut the string to remove the pegs, before tying on the clips. With the strings shorter I would be able to rip them off with more momentum, which made me feel better in a strange way.

Attaching the clips I winced, they were sooooo much tighter than the pegs. 

With the camera going I pressed the Doxy against myself once more, at a much more intense vibration. I needed to get through this as quickly as possible now, these clips would be the end of me otherwise! The pain they gave me was exquisite torture, a white-hot pain that sent pleasure across my labia… Sir had called me his pain monkey, and this act brought memories of our time together back to the forefront of my memory, intensifying the sexual energy greatly. Before I knew it I was cresting a wave of such intense pleasure that I couldn’t have kept my legs bent if I had wanted to. Stretching my legs away the bulldog clips ripped off of me, I shattered into what felt like a thousand pieces as another wave of orgasm ripped through me.

Broken by the pleasure which had enveloped me I took a while to come to my senses. 

As soon as I did I had to stop the camera, and then inspect my nether regions. In spite of the intensity of the pain everything was in the same state it had been when I attached the clips! Having sent the video over to MrN, I awaited his response. He was pleased with my efforts, which in turn made me smile.

What did I learn from this experience?

  • I learnt that I really do enjoy pain. I hadn’t come across masochist as a way of describing people (i.e. me) but the title bestowed upon me by sir in the early days was definitely fixed for me now.
  • I would push myself for someone important.
  • MrN was important. Though my mind wandering to sir half way through playing with myself was confusing.
  • I would not be indulging in bulldog clip masturbation of my own free will… No! As an act of submission inflicting the pain on myself was extremely erotic, but just because I wanted to get my kicks…? I felt that it could become an unhealthy outlet.

Not a bad set of learning points for an evening of play.

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And suddenly you just know it is time to start something new and trust the magic of new beginnings

happiness

Life seemed to be going quite well.

The sale of my marital home was nearing completion and I had a new flat to move into with my boys. They were settling into a new life with two homes. I had been promoted at work, had an increased case-load and became responsible for training new staff. I had some new friends who made me smile, and offered unconditional support. I had been able to assert myself in the kink world with my foot caning play partner. Also, it was the summertime so I was swimming in the sea and running as often as possible.

To top it all off I finally had an interesting message on BeMyDom.

He was polite and respectful, not pushy or sex orientated. He was looking for a submissive, someone who was keen to push themselves and try hard for him. I was hesitant to start with. He was in a long-term vanilla relationship and had no intention of leaving her. I struggled most with this aspect as I had no desire to be a dirty secret, especially if she was a good person. I could rationalise my infidelity, because P wasn’t very nice but this felt bad, and not in a good way. Also he was 3-4 hours drive away, which would mean we would mainly have an online relationship, hotel meetings may happen once every 3 months or so, but chances would be slim. I didn’t know if I was ready to give myself over to someone else, and if I was would I be good enough…? Also, he didn’t like to share his submissive.

In the end the prospect of an online relationship, with a married man, felt safer than a local single Dominant.

There was less pressure on us both, and I could start to free myself a little bit. MrN had a way about him which put me at ease, he was gentle and kind though firm.  We were both busy with our lives and so contact was an evening every week or so, with an email each way every day. We discussed likes and dislikes, needs and boundaries, hopes and dreams. I made a case for having freedom with other men if I asked first, he agreed because he would be in bed with his partner every  night and wanted things to be fair for me.

And so he began to set me to work, with tasks and rules.

The tasks that he set me in the first couple of weeks were sourcing items. Nothing expensive or that would need specialist retailers. My list included:

  • little bulldog clips
  • string
  • drawing pins
  • pegs
  • deep heat
  • medicine syringes
  • a small bucket

True to form I got hold of everything that was required. Then I had some preparations to do, DIY deviance. The syringes became nipple and clitoral pumps. He had originally suggested the calpol syringes for this, but I had to go to the local country stores and buy some animal medicine syringes for the right sizes. I had to cut four length of string to match my inner thighs, tying a loop in one end of each and attaching a peg to the end.

These strings puzzled me, I could not figure out what they were for! I was told to pop them in a safe place for a later date.

There were more things to make, things to keep me out of mischief. Many of the creations puzzled me, but my questions were met with the same answer… Put them away, try not to think about them. So I would put them away and mull over the possibilities. He asked me to set up an xHamster account for us to share. I could then save videos that I liked, as could he, and we could discuss. I already had an account, so sent him over the details. A couple of the videos which I had saved before coming into contact with him later became inspiration for him. And the videos that he shared with me were very interesting for different reasons. He had a heel fetish, as well as a sadistic streak when it came to pretty feet and a love of watersports. We had common ground in feet, and my curiosity about pee play, but my inability to walk in heels meant that his shoe fetish scared me in the best possible way.

I never felt that MrN was my forever Dominant, but for now we were able to give something to each other. 

carpe diem

Some days there won’t be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.

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Nothing could have prepared me for the sense of loss and abandonment that I felt.

It is hard remembering how difficult I found the first few weeks. I had given part of me to this man and then he left, taking that part with him. Aside from sending him the email I didn’t really know what to do, so I continued with my rules and tasks. I can see how that may read to others; why would I keep on when he had vanished? Honestly, it makes little sense, even now, except that I was floundering, I had no idea how to transition back to “normal”, or if he would pop up and say it was a test and I should have carried on, or…. At the time I needed the routine of the tasks, looking back I’m so pleased I kept on.

If I hadn’t kept on I would never have met E.

I had told him early on that I was curious about being bi-curious, and I would never have had the courage to explore that side of me without those tasks. I had been building in confidence, flirting and had even scened with another woman and her husband. When I started talking to E she was a breath of fresh air. Her fabswingers profile stated she was a highly sexed lesbian looking for no strings fun. About 5 weeks after sir went P was working nights, and the boys were in bed… E arrived at my door. She was 6 feet tall, slim, blonde and giddy. She had brought a bottle of wine with her, and a bag of toys. She knew that I was very inexperienced but keen, and she was excited to be playing with me.

A couple of glasses of wine later and the exploration began in earnest.

She was very caring and gentle, she was also very appreciative of my efforts. E shared her love of oral, scissoring and a strap-on. She was very attentive with her mouth, and when we swapped she was clean and smooth, not scented with urine which was a step up from the last time. I decided then that I only wanted to go down on smooth women. Scissoring was something I had never come across before, it was clumsy and awkward and I still don’t understand how it works in a pleasurable way. Now, the strap on was something different for me too. I had never seen one before and had no idea what they were meant to look like or feel like. The one that she brought (and enjoyed) was, I believe, a vibrator sheath attachment for the harness. It didn’t enter me and I found it a little disappointing, I wondered why people would rather this than a beautiful cock. She went wild though, loving every minute that it slid over her. I have since googled and seen in person other strap-ons, and I would love to try it again, with a woman who is less vanilla. And maybe with less wine!

When she left to go home I was so proud of myself.

I had pushed through a boundary and enjoyed myself. With a willing partner I had explored new areas and tried new toys. I was still stuck with the thought that this must mean I am a lesbian, that perhaps P had been right all along, that the reason I hadn’t wanted sex with him was because I wanted to sleep with women. And I didn’t have the option of contacting sir, to tell him all about it. I had always been asked for reviews after each scene or challenging task, not only did it give him feedback on my thoughts and feelings, but it was also a positive thing for me to reflect and digest what had happened.

Now though, I didn’t have that outlet, that form of after-care if you like. 

This was an important learning point for me. That I would need to figure out a new way to process my wandering mind after new experiences and intense sessions. I’m nothing if not tenacious so this was a welcome puzzle for me, a distraction from what else had been going on in my life at the time. I just had to figure out how to embrace this new world on my terms, without an abusive husband calling the shots or my Dominant guiding the way. The first one I couldn’t wait to see the back of, and the other, Sir, I missed with every aching ounce of my being.

My mind was working again, and I was setting the rules. Maybe it wasn’t all bad…

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I want to say I miss you…but it wouldn’t change anything so I’ll just keep pretending I don’t.

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Not long after we met with the couple Sir had some news for me.

He would be working overseas for a few months, flying out a few days later and he would be unable to be in contact. This wasn’t a surprise to me, we had discussed his unpredictable work patterns and I was prepared. He lifted all restrictions on me and I was free to do my own thing if I chose to, or had time. With Christmas fast approaching it was unlikely I would have time to meet for a few weeks at least, but I was able to chat and make connections, fuelling my libido in his absence.

There seems to be a never-ending supply of interesting people to talk to online

This was the first time I fully immersed myself in the hook-up site I had joined earlier in the year. There was never a shortage of men who wanted to tell me what they were going to do to me. The ones who wanted to kiss me all over and lick me for hours were the worst for me; over the years I have had some curious (and fairly extreme) approaches but that particular scenario made me feel sick. And worse, the men offering such an experience would generally get angry when I turned them down.

Five weeks later I had a pleasant surprise in my inbox.

He was travelling and was able to send a quick hello, filling me in with his movements. He was due to return to the country a couple of weeks later and would be off again after a few days. I had the dates in my diary and things went to plan. As quickly as he had returned he was gone again, but a bonus meeting in the middle of this first long stint abroad was enough to make me feel special. He was expecting to be away for another month or so, and I was ready. I lived in hope that it would be less but, although the time wasn’t less, with my home-life in turmoil he was back before I knew it.

We were back in contact for a week or so, chatting about this and that…

How had I been? What had I been up to in his absence? Had I had any meets? What was happening in my marriage? My restrictions were back in place now that he had returned, and my tasks too. Body writing, video diaries, gaining confidence around women with an aim to playing further. We were in the process of coordinating our diaries when all of a sudden nothing…

Sir had vanished…

I hadn’t wanted to disturb him, using the logic that he would get in contact when it was convenient. But it was so painful. I thought I must have done something wrong, upset him somehow, that he was punishing me. About ten days after I last heard from him I sent an email putting words to my thoughts and detailing the one thing that I felt I may have done requiring this treatment. I had been chatting to Dommes, and though my restriction was no contact with male Doms maybe I had misunderstood?

Radio silence

Part of me felt naive and stupid for believing that I could be this man’s treasured possession, he seemed to have it all together and my life was just chaos. Another part of me felt that this was what I deserved, a fair punishment for whatever I had done wrong, though I knew not what that was. But the main idea that I had was that I wasn’t good enough for him and he had just got bored with trying to make me a better submissive. This tied in very nicely with the negative conditioning of my marriage and, with hindsight, it is easy to see why I felt like this. I searched google and found some interesting articles on Disappearing Dominants. Nothing really matched our dynamic but it did at least provide me with some answers that weren’t all based on my lack of self-worth so I was able to limit the self-torture that I had been so skilled at for so long within my marriage.

With a conscious effort I was able to continue building my life in the way I had begun.

He had always been so careful with my emotional well-being, surely he wouldn’t just cut and run? Maybe he had died? I couldn’t dwell though, and while I did miss him there was nothing I could do about that so I plodded on. I felt like an important part of me had been taken but time marched on and I had a husband to remove from my home, a house to sell, children to raise and a life to reconstruct.

I often wondered about him though….

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People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing.

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I may have mentioned my tasks once or twice already but they are such an important part of my relationship with Sir… So I will continue…

There were many tasks which had an obvious reason.

My liaison with M  was a way for sir to see whether I was ready to push myself away from the marital bonds, not necessarily all of the way (as I did) but even just a little bit. If I couldn’t then it would have been pointless us continuing on our path, I wouldn’t have been happy with an online relationship and I doubt that Sir would have either. It wasn’t what he was looking for in his advert, and it wasn’t what I was looking for when I responded to it. The way he got my imagination flowing with tasks detailing my fantasies, and telling him all of the details of my past experiences. Not only was he getting to know me and the dark, dusty corners of my mind, he was gently building my trust and asserting his dominance through acceptance.

Sometimes the reason felt more about connection than pushing me onward.

Our dynamic was developing but our respective vanilla lives kept in person contact to a minimum. He requested daily video diaries to keep up to date with my life. I also had the body writing which always had the effect of making me feel like he is on me, warming me and touching me. His request that  I wear a skirt with bare legs… well that was a slightly cooler reminder that he was in my mind.

I was never afraid of what  he would ask of me.

He knew my fixed boundaries and I could express my concerns about things that he was tasking me with, but why would he set me challenges that would cause me harm? He wouldn’t! I didn’t even have to ask when he explained that he only owns things that he likes, and he looks after his stuff. As his property I was included in that, a realisation that warms me, even now. The tasks were rarely easy, for whatever reason, but they all made sense.

Well, all except one which has been a source of smiles and mild confusion until Monday when I realised why…

When he first took me on I was to wear skirts and bare legs. Then he added in taking my knickers off every time I went to the loo, and putting them in my mouth while I did what was needed. (I expressed my concern about my children seeing. My young children always seemed to want to talk when I sat on the toilet….he excused me from doing this task when they would be at risk of seeing.) This became a routine for me, and I would often sit there smiling and wondering why I would be doing that. Why???

If that confused me, imagine what happened when he stepped things up a notch. 

When he had first asked what I wouldn’t do for him watersports was one fixed boundary. After I had watered my rose-bush this was downgraded to a soft limit, one that I would push for him. So now I had to wear a skirt with bare legs, and my knickers were to be worn internally. Every time I visited the loo I was to remove them and put them in my mouth. It is very hard to remove a pair of knickers from your vagina without causing a little flood when you really need a pee, and because of the nature of my work (and bladder) I was usually really needing to go. So I would be sat on the loo grinning at the ceiling, with a mouth full of my underwear which was covered in my arousal (because this all turned me on) and some pee. There were moments when I felt that warm glow of humiliation spread across my cheeks, eliciting more smiles, but mostly it was just cheeky giggles.

I had always assumed that it was one of his kinks, and I was grateful to be able to have fun while going about my business.

I never questioned his motives beyond that. Why would I? One of my current tasks is to run three times a week, if I am medically fit. I had planned my long run for Monday, but when it came to getting out I didn’t want to go: it was below freezing, I have a bit of a cold and 4.5 miles seemed a little overwhelming. I decided that I would go, I didn’t want to get behind with my weeks running after all, and I certainly didn’t want to disappoint sir. I was still a bit grumpy at about 3 miles, and gave myself a talking to. The sun was shining, the ground was dry and spring was starting to peek out from behind the frost covered muddy banks. I have always been grateful for my tasks, even when they have challenged me, but I do them because I know it pleases him to see me completing things that he has asked of me. Whether that is something that is important for my health, like running, maintaining our connection with body writing when the miles are great, or letting him into my mind.

I love working hard for sir, knowing that I am pleasing him is the greatest pleasure for me.

Doing something like panty stuffing for no other reason than because that is the way he chooses for me to make him happy makes me smile.

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I decided that the devil finds work for idle hands and thanked him for his suggestion

pexels-photo-112811.jpegThe times we had been able to meet were so intense, and the perfect cherry on top of a wonderful cake, but they were just part of our relationship.

It was the work I did for him between scenes, keeping me on the boil and building our connection. I was still looking for that elusive female to explore with, the journey was two steps forward and one back. I couldn’t break through though I was, by this point, keen to meet and try for him. I was able to flirt, and exchanged messages and pictures with a number of women. Availability seemed to be standing in the way of some meets, I had two small children, was still living with P and worked during the days. When trying to match diaries with other women who had similarly packed days it became quite challenging. Then there were the women who turned out to be men and the couples who were actually just men pretending to be women saying “I want you to play with my boyfriend/husband/partner”. A learning point for me: establish early telephone contact to ensure the gender is as expected. I also discovered that single women can be quite flaky and rude. A pattern established itself where I would be happily chatting with a lady and she would just disappear, no thanks but no thanks, or  I’ve changed my mind. I did, however, make contact with a few couples, and passed their details on to Sir (with their permission) but it became quite clear that I needed some more help.

I was taken off of this task while he took matters into his own hands.

I wasn’t allowed to rest though. I may have not had to be struggling with finding a woman but I did still have things to do. I was asked to achieve orgasm as many times as possible one Friday. I know you are busy, we all are, but I want you to try your best he asked one Thursday evening, the usual write-up and any possible evidence would be required by him. So I tried hard. I thought I would get a head start, and crawling into bed after P was asleep; it was just after midnight… I got a head start and before I fell asleep I was able to report back that I had managed three. The email awaiting me when I woke stated that it was a good warm up, but the counter started first thing in the morning, I had until midnight tonight. Rather than being grumpy about his words I had a chuckle to myself. He certainly knew how to play with me and it made me even more determined. Even more aroused.

Undeterred I fitted my jiggle balls and butt plug, sorted my children out and headed to work. 

I had a singing group to facilitate in the morning and a staff meeting over lunch, as well as a whole afternoon alone in the office. I was able to build myself up over the morning, covering gentle orgasms from the vibrations with poor vocal skills in the singing group, but what happened at the staff meeting was a surprise. As my manager discussed a first aid course for the whole team I zoned out a little while trying to contain a more powerful yet still hands free climax. When I came back to myself she was asking me if that would be alright for me… Yes, absolutely I said, blushing and assuming it was the first aid course. Nope, how wrong I was. I later discovered that I had agreed to being the fire warden for the three properties which my charity ran. An over stimulated erogenous zone and a moments careless distraction (OK, more than a moment) led to me having more responsibility at work and gave me extra meat for the bones of an application to be promoted.

These tasks were helping me grow in more ways than I had expected, though I would need to be more careful in future. 

The afternoon I spent alone in the office, working hard at my paperwork and increasing my orgasm count at the same time, was surprisingly productive. After work I returned to resume my jobs of mum and wife, and continued my role of sir’s slut when I was able to squeeze in a period of pleasure. It hadn’t been an easy day, but by the time midnight rolled around I had achieved more than twenty. Not bad for me as I was still unused to having that much release unless I was with sir, and then it wasn’t by my own hand… it was under his control. With his request in my mind I had been able to push myself further than I had imagined the day before, when he initially set the task. Needless to say I was pleased with myself when I reported back my final tally, and reading his reply Well N, that’s a good starting point made me believe that he was pleased too.

I did wonder what he would have planned for me next, and as it turned out I wouldn’t have long to wait to find out…

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The amount of good luck coming your way depends on your willingness to act.

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There was no doubt that luck had played an important part in my task completion. There had been no lack of effort from me, but I had been drawing blanks left, right and centre.

So when I spotted the opportunity to kiss a woman I took it!

It wasn’t the most planned and premeditated move, it certainly wasn’t seductive or sexual. But it was a decisive move on my part, a huge step in the direction I was being asked to go. I was proud of myself, but a bit grumpy too. It certainly wasn’t everything I had imagined it would be, and it didn’t set me up well for whatever he may be planning next. With my profiles on other websites and adverts in place I felt sure next time would be better, and I was nervously excited about pushing myself further. I was pretty pleased when he sent me details of when he would next see me; thinking I had pleased him I readied myself for the day by getting an early night. The next morning I received a more detailed email. Things would be similar to before, but this time I would be spanked.

You are a bad girl N for leaving things to luck, and you can think about that today and while you are being spanked, being forced to orgasm, and being used by me in every way.

He said that he may forgive me by cumming on face, but I would have to work very hard to make up for my bad ways. How was I meant to get anything done with all of that spinning around in my head? Work, the children and my preparations all had to happen before I could leave for him, it was looking like I had a long day in store. I had instructions for how to dress and this included knickers. I knew where I was going and what time I had to be there. He also informed me that there would some gentle humiliation, to see how I got on.

And I had to put the blindfold on again, bad girls don’t get to see their sir…

As I entered his room his warm scent invaded my nostrils once more, a calming homely aroma, causing the racing in my chest to ease off slightly. Only marginally though as I had a vague understanding of what was coming and I was so excited at the thought of being used by him while worried as I had disappointed him. I didn’t think I should be as aroused as I was, given the circumstances, but the scent mingled with anticipation to produce one hot submissive. Then he touched me, explored me, inspected me… I was fully clothed but felt naked under his hands. There was a familiar buzzing as he plugged me, and then the collar (or as sir said: MY collar) was put on me and linked to a leash before I was taken on all fours to receive my first proper spanking. Oh my goodness…..I had only had one experience of being spanked and it was not a pleasant one. This was something I had yearned for and, though he explained he would learn me as we went along, and he would be gentle because he didn’t want to mark me very much, I loved the way my flesh sang as he worked over my behind. He checked in regularly, using the numbers system that we had discussed beforehand. I was fully clothed still, my skirt up and over my hips exposing my knickers, and there was a vibrating plug buzzing away inside of me.

Before I knew it I was naked and the plug had been replaced by him and I was telling him I was his slut.

P had regularly called me a slut, I had been made to feel shameful of my promiscuous youth. How different this was, I was naming myself as HIS slut at HIS request. This made me glow as brightly as my behind, in the most wonderfully proud way. Sir never once made me feel stupid or inadequate, instead I felt desirable. This gentle humiliation was fun, and felt very, very positive. As the evening progressed I struggled through orgasm after orgasm. I also enjoyed exploring him more with my mouth…his nose etched in my memory…. Catching droplets of sweat as they fell from his nose I was unable to help myself from going back for more…this felt so innocent yet so depraved. More so than the anal hook, spreader bar and rope bondage. He was ripping orgasms out of me for his amusement, to teach me a lesson about not letting lady luck do all of the work, and here I was refreshing myself with his droplets of liquid treasure, the product of his labours.

He must have been pleased with my efforts though, for I was rewarded by the most wonderful flood.

It went from my nose, down my chin and trickled over my collar. My greedy mouth caught some as well. I had been forgiven, and I was over the moon!! The thought of letting him down was really unpleasant and I would do my best to make sure I was never a bad girl or a source of disappointment for him again.

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You are confined only by the walls you build yourself.

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What he asked of me next was to prove an ongoing source of worry for quite some time.

I had told him that I was straight, I felt no sexual attraction to females whatsoever. I had also told him that if something was not a hard limit I would explore my sexuality for him. So when he asked me to kiss a woman he knew exactly how hard it would be for me. Everything else he had asked of me had been fairly easy for me psychologically, but this task…..this stretched me a long way past the edge of my comfort zone. Not to my hard limits, but certainly I had to drag myself over the soft limits of my mind. I had no female friends I could ask and no idea where to start looking. There was a big brick wall ahead of me, and I had to figure out a way of climbing over.

I wanted to try, I wanted to please him and (curse my curiosity!!) I wanted to see what would happen next. 

That brick wall was high, and I couldn’t find any foot holds to start with. This was partly inexperience, but partly something that P had used against me. Any time I had refused sex with him he would accuse me of being a lesbian. What nonsense that I should allow that to hold me back. I spoke about my fears with sir and he reassured me. If I did turn out to be that way inclined what did it matter? And what does it matter what other people say anyway, especially closed-minded men who behave badly? So I kept going. I kept trying. I was close to asking him to help me, this was so hard, but I got lucky. I was a member of slimming world at the time and there was a pre-christmas food evening. The consultant was the life and soul of party time and had brought mistletoe. So I got a kiss on the lips from her. And a kiss from a man in his 60’s who thought that looked like great fun.

Purely by luck I had completed the task.

Talking things through enabled me to see where the issues lay, and sir was on hand to give me guidance and support in the next step. As I lived in a town where everyone knows if you so much as sneeze it was suggested that I cast the net a little further afield.  I set up a new email address, a fabswingers account and posted adverts on other sites. I was “considering experimentation”, not looking for anything more. My efforts mostly came up blank. Looking back now it is obvious why I had no success, I can see why experienced and passionate women wouldn’t want to play with a nervous woman who may decide it wasn’t for her. Time is precious after all, and newbies aren’t an exciting proposition when it comes to indulging your sexual desires… whatever form they may take. Still though, I kept trying. Occasionally I would make contact with a woman and have a chat. This moved on to flirting a little. It was odd to see myself stepping a little closer to the boundaries of my mind. I had self-limited for so long that now I was ready to take the plunge I was increasingly frustrated to not be able to try it, to explore a bi side which I hadn’t ever wanted to and delve deeper into my submission.

This online world of hook ups and casual encounters was odd

I had been warned to be aware of scammers which led to one of the most surreal conversations ever…. I wanted to know how I would be able to tell a scammer, and this was part of the response I got:

I asked what the website whatever.com  was. It took a few replies from sir for me to get my head around the fact that it was just an example. For an intelligent woman I can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes (usually around technology, the internet fits right in with that) Fortunately, over 3 years later and I have yet to meet a scammer.

At that point though even a scammer would have been welcome.

What he was asking me to do shouldn’t have been so hard. I wasn’t shying away from working hard, it was a psychological challenge but one that I had accepted and was trying hard to fulfil. I was disappointed that I had only managed to complete my task the first time by luck, I felt I had let us both down when all I wanted to do was please him. It is only recently that I asked him if he was disappointed in me, if I had let him down. He said that I hadn’t, it was part of my journey and it was pleasing him watching me grow. I had accepted this task though and wanted to complete it properly, to the best of my ability.

Besides, just because something is hard doesn’t make it bad.

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I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious

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I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t plagued by a thirst for knowledge.

I have never seen this as a negative, it is a good thing to be constantly learning after all. In fact, my tutor recently complimented me on my “intellectual curiosity“. I have occasionally been called nosy, but the questions come from a place of interest rather than wanting to gossip. If you have a secret you need to get off your chest I’m the girl for you, not only do I like learning new things, but I won’t judge and I love knowing things other people don’t so it will go no further. People are endlessly fascinating and I love learning as much as I can about all of those who enter my world, especially the important ones! Yes, my curiosity is strong and I am proud of it.

So what on earth was I doing, working hard to please a man who, in his own words, I would get to know very slowly.

A man who enjoyed his air of mystery and used it as a powerful tool in his toy bag. I am so pleased that he told me this early on, it gave me the freedom to just give in to his psychological dominance. If questions go unanswered I have a tendency to try to work out the answer, and this can drive me crazy, so had I not understood his way of doing things it is highly likely I would have struggled and become quite anxious. The way he explained it all to me gave me the peace of mind and security that my not knowing wasn’t because I had done something wrong.  (He reassured me that if I ever did anything to annoy him he would tell me) Don’t misunderstand me, if I had an important question I would know the answer as soon as he could tell me; he was my educator and my protector. But there was a distinct difference between what I needed to know and what I wanted to know. Knowledge is power after all.

Submitting in this way allowed my busy brain to calm, just a little.

Sometimes…

It also drove me to distraction! It still does. In the best possible way.

The connection between my brain not getting the information it wanted lit pathways of desire which snaked from my frustrated brain to my apex, stoking the fires he had set ablaze. He had always encouraged me to imagine all of the possibilities, an amazing way of intensifying sensations when enjoying my personal playtime or completing tasks such as having orgasms in densely populated areas. Sometimes, as I lay in the darkness next to P, I would imagine my delicious Dominant emerging from the shadows as he entered our bedroom, using me and leaving again. Those were the best nights.

Even without P in my bed those are still the best nights….

During the weeks following our initial meeting he asked me to find alternatives to hotels. He was ill, so unable to meet with me, but as he would be moving into work accommodation and I was living in my marital home there needed to be safe spaces which we could use; making use of my curious brain he set me to work finding places which would work for our requirements. I got busy and worked hard. It was an eye opener, how many different options there were. I forwarded details to him as I had ideas and found places. I enjoyed the way he channelled me, even then.

It soon became apparent that he found my curiosity amusing.

I would be given tit bits of information, clues and red herrings. Never enough to let me get the full picture, just enough to send me into a spin. Like giving me 7 random numbers of a 500 number dot to dot. I would try to work out the rest of the picture, but to no avail. I would tie myself up in knots, trying to figure things out, and then I would have a chuckle at myself for doing exactly that. It was the kind of chuckle that was accompanied by a frustrated groan, because even if I was hitting the mark with my guesses I wouldn’t know until he was ready to tell me. When he eventually told me his line of work I was so annoyed with myself… I had decided on a dozen different careers and, even though some were fairly close, none of them were right. And looking back at the clues he had given me it would not have been unreasonable for me to have got it right!

With great knowledge comes great responsibility.

It was lovely to be able to unburden myself of just a little responsibility through my submission to him, and not being allowed to know everything. When I had first decided to look for a dominant I had no idea that it would be this way. I had imagined the kinky sex, oh yes…I had definitely imagined that…and surrendering through that outlet, but never had I imagined this journey. I will be forever grateful that I chose that time to search google. A week either side and I may have missed out on this wonderful, dark and deviant soul who not only wanted to nurture me but also tease my mind for his (and perhaps by accident my own) entertainment.

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Personal growth is not about learning new information but unlearning old limits

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A couple of weeks ago I was picking up my children from school and heard one dad say to his three-year old daughter “Don’t try to do that, you can’t do that yet so don’t even try.” She had asked for him to help her on the monkey bars after seeing her friend (my youngest) swinging around. His words really made me think, and feel proud of the way that I try to parent. Those words came back to me today, while reflecting on the next phase of Sir considering me.

I was the little girl wanting to swing on the monkey bars, and he was encouraging me to try, standing a couple of steps away, arms outstretched waiting to catch me.

Had he been telling me not to try, or worse, forcing me to swing on those bars when I didn’t want to, I dare say I would have shut down. The person I am now certainly would have! He wasn’t though. Every step of the way he was asking if I understood what was being asked of me, and if I agreed to it. I was free at any time to say no, to express my fears or to just embrace the task. Sometimes there were fears, and he would help me work through them. Had I not been having to face my fears the tasks would have been too easy and I would have likely shut down, as I would have done if he were forcing me into things. As luck would have it the following task was something that excited me and terrified me in equal measure. He was to be away for the weekend, and he had a very special request

Be your own Sir for the weekend. Entertain me. Stretch yourself

The first thing that went through my head was the fear of not being good enough. How was I meant to entertain him? How could I possibly know what would please him? What should I do???? So I started. I spent the weekend with my children and husband, sometimes breaking away to complete the tasks I set for myself. He had asked me to send pictures, videos and write ups as I did things, depending on what was appropriate. I can not recall all of the tasks but I know there was body writing, stretching and a little exhibitionism. The task that I am most proud of, and that sticks with me to this day is my first step into watersports. I had told him that this was a hard limit for me, absolutely no doubt about it. But being asked to entertain him….I suddenly thought of a rose-bush in my garden that was pretty much dead. I decided to go and pee on it, and video myself.

Looking to the heavens with a grin, questioning what on earth I am doing, is something that I associate very much with Sir.

That rose-bush came back to life, it lives in a pot outside my back door and flowers twice a year. Something of a trophy, it never fails to raise a smile when I see it. He had said that he would be out of contact all weekend, and would look at my tasks the following Monday. Imagine my surprise when I received a couple of brief yet encouraging emails from him as the weekend progressed. I wasn’t sure if he was bored with my tasks and pushing for more, or if he was impressed and showing he was grateful. Either way, I was too busy being my own sir to give too much thought to the doubts in my head; it was just nice to have contact.

The following Monday he had decided that he would meet with me, see how I fitted in person. Due to availability I still had 9 days to wait, which meant more things to do for him, and another weekend to push myself and potentially withdraw. If I ever decided I was unhappy there was always the option of telling him no more… It never happened though. Yes he would push, yes some things were more challenging than others, but I never felt unsafe or unhappy.

Three more tasks. One I had no desire to do but which would be fairly straight forward oral for the husband. One I could easily manage, it was just a matter of finding the time, stretching myself physically, depth and girth. And… One that excited me more than I dared to admit. Not just the task he had set, but the way he set it…

Give a man more than he bargains for. You set the level. Impress me.

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