Every mile will be worth my while.

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Every mile makes me a better version of me.

1. How do you spend most of your time?

I’m a mum, first and foremost. Those lovely children of mine fill my heart and mind with tasks and chores. I’m also studying, though that probably doesn’t take up as much of my time as it should. Aside from these two I spend the most part of my life running. Outdoors and under the big sky, more often than not calf deep in mud!

2. Is this where you thought you would end up?

When I married my ex husband I believed that he was who I would be with forever. I was happy to ignore my kinks and lead a “normal” life. I didn’t expect that I would have got it so horribly wrong in my choice of life partner. I also didn’t expect to find myself a mum, let alone a single one. But this is the path my life has taken and I am so much happier. I also have goals and plans to achieve them. A marathon, for example, has been a long-held goal. Only now do I have the confidence to achieve that!

3. What would you do differently if given the opportunity?

Aside from wishing that I had found an osteopath sooner, as mentioned here, I couldn’t go back and change anything. Why would I want to? I may not have enjoyed every mile of my journey, but the scenery has at least been varied. There are parts of my life which have been unpleasant and challenging, but they have made me understand my strengths. My life now is wonderful. Not without challenges, but I am free to be me.

And I’m ok!

4. How do you encourage creativity in the bedroom?

I am an open book, people just need to ask me the right questions. Lovers tend to trust me before we get to the bedroom. I find that this trust, along with being open and non-judgemental are all the encouragement creativity needs.

5. Tell us something about yourself that might surprise us.

For all of the smut I read and porn I watch you may be surprised to find out that the most erotic moment in print that I have found is Gone With The Wind” when Scarlet O’Hara and Rhett Butler kiss for the first time. I still get goose-bumps thinking about that.

Bonus: Sexually, who has influenced you the most?

In an odd way probably my mother. I love my mum very much, but her attitude to sex is very traditional. My Aunty is a serial monogamist and my mum does not approve. I don’t think for a moment that she would approve of my lifestyle either!! However, aside from this she has always accepted me. She has always encouraged me to be the best I can be, and she has shown me that I should follow my dreams. As my sexuality blossomed I didn’t ever think of sex in the traditional sense. Seeking out experiences, learning and pushing myself in ways that I wanted to explore.

TMI Tuesday blog
February Photofest

TRUST and the catharsis of tears.

trust and tears
Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

Trust is the basis of everything, not just in kinky relationships but everything.

In my post Happiness is only real when shared I sent you to read a good friend of mines post on Fetlife. He spoke about the different layers of trust and his personal struggles with them. I know that not everyone is on Fetlife, but this was a post that I wanted the world to see. Well, a wider audience at least… So I asked him if I could share it here, and he has agreed that I can post his original post here.

Where would we be without trust?                                                                                          It is vitally important in all walks of life, you trust your doctor, your dentist, your mechanic, your bank, your friends, but it’s even more important in the games that we play – we trust that someone won’t bring a third-party into our play when we have expressly said not to (yes, it’s happened to me), and after all how many here would allow someone to do the things that they do without at least a modicum of trust?
And that’s the thing isn’t it.
Now I personally find it incredibly difficult to trust anyone – I know why this should be, I know where it stems from – I have spent too many years with counsellors and there is just too much in my past that influences it, I have tried not to let my past define me but in many ways haven’t been overly successful. For me trust now comes in three flavours (shall we say), there is trust, Trust and TRUST. The first, well that is just your bog standard ‘I trust that you will not fuck me over Mr Mechanic’, Trust is a step up from that and most friends are at that level, they’re the ones I would go to with personal issues and the ones who know a lot of stuff about me and I guess that for most people this what they would consider to be trust, but TRUST, that is reserved for the special ones, the people who know more still… and if you get to that final one and then betray it, well, you know.
TRUST is also the level I need before I can relax and fully immerse myself in a scene.
Several years ago Mistress Magpie wrote a piece in New Statesman about a sub she had who visited her regularly and who wanted to be spanked to tears, she mentioned how that person was incredibly stoic, and how it took time to build up mutual trust in order to fulfil that need until the day came where she broke that sub and they were indeed able to cry. This article came out around the time of 50 shades – and was written in direct response to it, it was a direct ‘this is what is wrong with everything in that film’.
Three guesses who that sub was – if you said me, then go to the top of the class.
And that is the thing, I need to be spanked/beaten/tortured to tears, I need to be broken, because there is something incredibly cathartic in those tears and god knows I need that catharsis, I need the full sobbing with snot running down and yet I can’t do it.
In scene my TRUST is broken.
Now I Trust the person that I play with, I Trust them implicitly, and I allow them to do all sorts of things to me, playing with limits, putting me through emotional torment and horrors galore and seriously head fucking me – believe me, they wouldn’t get near me with sounds if I didn’t – but Mr Stoicism, that side of me who blocks me from letting go and embracing TRUST and tears just wont back down – I can get close, I can get to the point where I THINK I am going to cry … and that’s it, nothing follows.
And this is frustrating, I find that EVERY time I play now it is almost like there is a part of me that is separate, looking on with calm dispassion, feeding me truth to dispel the things that are said in scene and thus dispelling the fear that I need and preventing me from fully letting go.
I find that I now completely disassociate from a scene.
This is what happens when TRUST is broken.
And it is being incredibly unfair on the person that I play with! She knows what I need, and she tries incredibly hard to give it, she has worked hard to improve her CP, she acts the complete bitch because she knows it gives me pleasure, she will grind heels into my flesh and torture me endlessly and she knows that I get satisfaction, pleasure and relief from seeing her … but she also knows that without the catharsis of tears (hmm, sounds like a bad novel) then I am unfulfilled. And whilst she has never said anything about that, other than on those occasions when she thought maybe she had succeeded, still I feel bad for not being able to TRUST her.
Now you could say that maybe I don’t actually need to cry anymore, that maybe that part has passed and I am on a different path now, and yes I will grant you the possibility even whilst I don’t really agree – I have my reasons for saying that. I will also grant that after last year maybe that has caused me to back away emotionally but I thought that with time and the same play partner (and off and on I have seen this person for over a year) that maybe it would return. So far there is no sign of that and so I am resigned to the possibility that, just maybe, it isn’t going to happen.
Trust, you know, it is important!

TRUST and the catharsis of tears was written and originally posted by slave lytton.

Happiness is only real when shared.

sharing is caring

It has been a few weeks since my last #SOSS as life has been tipped upside down with the school holidays.

For me the chaos is set to continue into the new term, but I am trusting my ability to sail through the fog and having the physical time to return to my blogging routine is helping to ground me, keep me positive and maintain some focus on the bigger picture!

I have been trying to keep track of my reader, but there has barely been a moment. Now I have a chance to sit with some funky tunes and a cup of tea I have put together a small collection of pieces I have enjoyed since my last post rather than just the last week. 

My Controlled Ascent is a blog that continues to draw me in. Kisungura has started a collection of writings called Kis’s Kinks and her take on gentle breath play was a wonderfully relate-able read for me. The more of her posts I read the more I want to enjoy, and with the new school term starting I see that I am going to have a little more time to do so.

I find myself reading through review pages more and more. I have a few toys that I would love to buy and am looking out for mind-blowing reviews to help me find the right toy. Emmeline Peaches Reviews is one such blogger whose honest style I enjoy. This week I followed the link in my email to Embracing Sex Toys As A Woman. I saw the title and pounced on it. What more could I learn about embracing my not-so-secret love? It didn’t give me any further excuses to buy toys (not that I need a reason!) What it did give me is an insight into how my friends feel when I link arms and suggest we go to an adult store. If you are nervous about sex toys then this is a great read, you are not alone! If you have been growing a collection since before you left school and don’t understand why others worry then this is great for you too!!

Collaboration from Pieces of Jade brings together a list of many of the popular memes, but also highlights how important the meme that she hosts is to her. As an exhibitionist and explorer The Scavenger Hunt is one that I have just begun to take part in. It makes me smile to see other people with a similar attitude to myself, taking exposed pictures in random places. I, for one, would love to enjoy more people’s kinky explorations!

One of my wonderful friends posted his first writing for a very long time on fetlife. In his writing TRUST and the catharsis of tears Slave-lytton talked about his struggles with trusting others, and added a fresh understanding of trust and what it means. Not only to my dear friend but to myself as well. I wonder how many of you can relate? If you are on Fetlife I highly recommend more of his writings, he has a way of capturing moments.

A blog I have been following for a little while now is No Pants Endurance. A man after my own heart he is an endurance athlete with an exhibitionist streak. There have been so many posts I have salivated over  enjoyed reading, and a post from this week Cornography tickled me. He is ticking off Scavenger hunt locations at an enviable rate… I must get going!!

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Photo by Jodie DS on Pexels.com

Happiness is only real when shared was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Trust is earned in drops and lost in buckets.

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Over the months M and I enjoyed many comfortable times in our relationship.

I have always cherished companionable silence and healthy debate, both of which had been sorely missed with P. M and I enjoyed each others company in so many ways when we were together, and when we were apart things were fine. I had my boys, work, study and M had his work and regular AA meetings. We would usually chat every evening once the boys were in bed, with the odd text exchange during the day. This worked really well, and we were both happy with the level of contact. It worked for us.

But there were times when he would go off grid.

Just for an evening or so, not answering our prearranged call, and then being rude and grumpy with me the next time we spoke. He would say that he felt claustrophobic and needed some time to himself. I felt awful that I had made him feel like that, stepped back a little and gave him the space he needed, but then he would be back in the same routine of contact. My head would swim at the change in his moods, but walking on eggshells was something that I had learnt was normal in relationships. P had shown me that, and as we had been together for most of my adult life I had no other point of reference. The thing was though, that when he was absent unexpectedly my head would go into a spin. I would imagine all sorts of situations and realised that I didn’t trust him. When I asked him what he had been up to the last evening he would get cross and say he had “just been for a walk” or he had “gone to an extra meeting.” All perfectly reasonable, and I tried so hard to not listen to my gut instinct.

He was patient with me, suggested we try counselling.

So we went. We sat in the room with a lovely lady who asked questions. I answered more, he was a closed book, but he pointed out that I was the one who didn’t trust him so it was probably working just right. That smooth smile of his, those kind dark brown eyes… This was my fault, the stress in our relationship. Why wouldn’t it be? Everything always was! That was another lesson from P. We kept going and, alongside my own solo counselling I started to get a better image in my head of what I needed out of life and our relationship.

During this time I had been planning a move to Devon.

It would take me closer to M, but that was just the icing on the cake as far as my life was concerned. Devon had become a safe space for me, I had discovered that Dartmoor had a healing effect on my soul. My study was also progressing well, and I had planned on either going to Plymouth university, where the department had an excellent reputation with high quality graduates in my chosen field, or continuing with the Open University. I could transfer with work, and make the study decision later on, but with P taking his parenting role with a pinch of salt it was the deciding factor.

M actively encouraged my decision, making plans and suggestions.

He even came to look at houses with me, talking through the benefits of the areas and why he liked them. As time went on he even began talking about our long-term future together, moving in together, holidays with the children. All interspersed with the occasional disappearance. I convinced myself that I must be imagining things, that I didn’t trust him because of my past. That my belief that I wasn’t good enough made me think he would leave me eventually, and that as I started to like myself more I would trust that he wasn’t the scoundrel or heart breaker that his relationship history indicated he would eventually become.

We all change and grow, and as I was learning about myself so was he, through his recovery from alcoholism.

His lack of interest in me sexually must have been due to the lack of trust I had in him. I didn’t constantly show him my fears and worries. No, I kept them for private moments when my mind would run round in circles. After all, I really should trust him; he was the one who had asked for a monogamous relationship, he knew my interest in sexual freedom and how I had been non-monogamous with Sir.

But that was different.

And this relationship was mainly vanilla.

And vanilla does not cater for people like me.

My square peg in this round hole of a relationship was what was causing my anxiety.

Obviously…

So I would need to change…

File down those edges.

Again!

Never underestimate how tiring it is trying to fit in with what you believe others expect of you.

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Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo.

spit

As I have said M wasn’t into D/s and power exchange, but he was fairly kinky.

There were a few things that he introduced to me which I absolutely loved.The first time he spit in my face was a surprise. Not because he had done it, I had known it was coming, but because of how much I enjoyed it. He always said that he would just get lost in my eyes, the brilliant sparkly blue gateways to my soul and it felt so depraved to have him gaze into them and, while making full use of my pussy, spit into those eyes, forcing them to close… This expansion of my kinks coincided with my youngest discovering he could spit. I have always prided myself on being a good mum, and fair. Now I was having to be hypocritical and tell him off for something that I happily enjoyed with M.

This wasn’t the only thing that I would have to teach my children not to do while embracing as part of my sex life. 

But how did I come round to enjoying the spit? It seems so degrading on the face of it, so disgusting and unloving. I had always found mouths a bit gross, and that included tongues and spit, but as with all things it is the context with which you engage in it. Had he just come up to me and flobbed in my eye I probably would have been appalled and sent him packing with his tail between his legs, but as it was we had discussed why I didn’t like mouths particularly, and over time he got me to enjoy morning breath kisses. For someone who loves ass-to-mouth it may seem strange that morning breath kisses could seem so taboo, but we are shaped by other peoples ideals as children and my mum was very much about not poking out tongues or spitting. (I dare say Ass-to-mouth would have been a big no-no, but she has never witnessed me doing that!!)

With the confidence that enjoying new experiences brings I was soon tempted to try something else that felt so very wrong…. 

My nose buried in his testicles and my tongue lapping at his anus I had an idea. Pulling back I looked at the surprise and mild disappointment on his face, then I got a load of saliva together and spat on his hole…before putting my head back down and pressing my tongue into him deeper than before. The moans that escaped him were exquisite and so arousing. The next time I spat on him he was on all fours, and I had his exposed hole in full view. His enjoyment of receiving the spit and subsequent rimming was evident when he exploded all over his bedding. I’ve never been one to waste cum, so I sucked his mess from the mattress. Again, how can it be so taboo to spit yet I think nothing of hoovering up a puddle of semen?

With his reaction to my actions I wondered what his reaction to his own spit would be like.

The next time we were together we had a very vanilla coming together. It had been a while and I had not had release so I was keen to have a second round. Laying there I spread my legs wide as he knelt between them, reached down and using my fingers I stretched my folds wide apart. As I was about to say “spit on me” I noticed his flaccid cock coming back to life. I had never considered that my spread hole would have this effect. Sir and MrN had been keen to see me continue with stretching while I was under their guidance but it was always in my mind that they would be thinking of what they could put in there, not at what the gaping hole looked like. M’s reaction caused a shift in my thoughts there… Still, I asked him to spit on me and put himself to good use, which he did twice more that evening, and we both fell asleep with daft grins.

We talked in detail about his instant raging erection. It had been as much of a surprise to him as me.

From this point it was only a short hop to him using my face, and I was very happy to experience it with him. Over this period of exploration we experimented with my gaping pussy and both of our spitting in a variety of ways. It turned out that I liked him spitting anywhere on me, but I only felt comfortable doing so on his genitals. I didn’t enjoy using his face, it just didn’t feel right to me. Maybe that is my submissive nature (using my spit for lubricant but not humiliation) or maybe it was the remnants of a slightly conservative upbringing? Either way I had learnt a lot about this new form of play with M and I was very grateful to him for being dirty and to myself for having a sense of adventure.

The look on his face at my gaping pussy will stay with me for a very long time though, and I am also pleased that he enjoyed taking pictures of it for me…

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To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.

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It was with great anticipation that I stood outside his room on a wet and windy January evening.

My company had been requested earlier in the day, and K had agreed to look after my children so that I could go out to visit Sir. It would cost me having her daughter to stay the following weekend, but by this point I was brave enough to look after children that were not my own! And I really, really wanted to see Sir…

I say “see Sir” with my tongue firmly in my cheek. 

Our time apart meant that I would be wearing the blindfold which would be waiting for me to put on as soon as I entered the room. If I could still follow instructions then we would move along from this point again, but I did love the blindfold… It was a safety net against the intensity of him, I worried that without it I would be like a rabbit in the headlights. Fortunately I didn’t need to worry about that for today. What I did need to worry about was how to transport my toy collection without drawing attention to myself as I walked through the hotel reception, in heels. My instructions for the evening were to wear a skirt, knickers and heels while having bare legs. My hair needed to be up as it had now grown enough to be put into a tail.

As my name suggests I am very comfortable barefoot.

Sir knew that I had been practising wearing heels while he had been away, but that I was still far from comfortable in them. I have a love/hate relationship with them: they are often aesthetically pleasing, but slip off of my feet and I end up looking like a clumpy clown. Somehow I managed to make it from my car to his room, and once inside the door I was able to stand steadily. Waiting for the sound of him moving across the room, his footsteps approaching across the carpeted floor. And there he was, running his hands across my body, claiming me once more.

His toy, his plaything. 

The bag full of toys that I brought with me and waited by my feet was all but ignored as he drew me into the scene with just the lube extracted from the top, where he had asked that I put it. I knew that he would be marking my backside, but aside from that I had no ideas. With my hair in a ponytail he had something solid to properly hold onto, and though I had experienced hair pulling before I had never had my head pulled back that far. There was a moment of real fear, when I realised that I couldn’t breathe because of the angle, but I trust Sir with my life and know full well that he will always keep me safe, all I need to do is trust him. So I did… I still felt that thrill of fear coursing through my body, but it wasn’t the terror that had briefly threatened to bubble up.

And then the impact play began…

Familiar and delicious, my backside appreciated the attention no end. And when he flipped me over and started on my feet I was in second heaven. I remember the position well, laying on my back holding my bent legs behind the knees with my feet presented for him to beat. I was exposed and vulnerable, blind to his movements I had no idea what he was using on me. It was stingy and had a bite…but I couldn’t put my finger on the implement. After an extended assault on my soles he paused and I caught my breath. I felt the air move and braced my feet for what was to come, but instead my poor unsuspecting pussy took the full force of the impact. Umph! 

I hadn’t been expecting that, and blushed with the pain and humiliation at my unspoken assumption.

Thinking back now I can almost imagine a cheeky grin flashing across his face, but at the time my lips had become swollen with the relentless blows. What was it that he was using…??? Now that he had moved away from my feet to a more sensitive area it felt like a Cat of nine tails, but the only time I recalled having one used on me was by a gentle sadist. This one made me want to sing in pain while my arousal leaked out of me… adding to the intensity of sensation.

The pleasure and pain link still forming, gradually, in my mind. 

Throughout the scene his wands were never far away, either his Hitachi giving the wonderfully satisfying and deep vibrations, interspersed with his electro wand which made me shriek, jump and giggle through orgasms. But what surprised me was toward the end… taking him deep in my throat while he used what felt like a tree trunk in my swollen apex. Each and every time I gagged on him it felt like a small flood would escape me. This was the first time I recall that sensation. Much like when he first introduced me to electro play I had to check in and see whether I had imagined a different sensation, I asked whether I had covered his bedding. I had always imagined I would be ashamed if I ever were to gush, but this hadn’t felt like I expected it to, and I trusted that he would tell me if I had done something wrong so I could just enjoy the situation. And when I received his cum I swallowed as much as I could greedily. When he flicked the last few drops over my face as they escaped the end of his cock, I don’t think I have ever been more grateful.

Driving home with flecks of his semen over my face, and in my hair… the invisible marks that I always adored.

16cat1

Image from Bould Whips

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