Friday, December 31, 2010

Q&A 3: four little words

Provoked by a correspondent again, I thought more deeply than I had in a while about my relationship with my husband and my life online. I have not up until now, thought very deeply about this issue. About the frisson that exists between the two. My correspondent asked questions about the character of my relationship with my husband. My answers revealed to me that my relationship with my husband was slowly developing into a D/s experience, albeit a fledgling one. Exciting really! He is embracing the Dom in him and we have begun to enjoy our life together again. Realising this, I wondered why then I have continued to search online..though admittedly I am highly sexually charged nearly alllllll the time and he is not available alllll the time! Purely a cheap thrill aspect to my sexuality then? I wonder.

So..with some edit...


You are absolutely right, going backwards seems almost impossible.

I haven't explained myself well enough and your question has made me think quite deeply about what i am doing. In fact I feel quite challenged by your questions (in a good way).

When I say my physical needs are satisfied by my husband I mean just that..our sex is not in the least vanilla and has been moving closer and closer toward D/s over the last few months. This made me think about what you have said and about why I keep searching if these needs are being met by my partner. What is it about other men, dominant men, that excites me so much? My conclusion? I had mentioned earlier to you that my husband doesn't understand fully the mental aspect of D/s for me, though I have been working hard to explain my understanding of it to him.

Then a post from a freedom to submit said it all. I realised he has never said the words to me, 'you belong to me', 'your mine' or something similar. It is that sense of being owned that is lacking in my life with him and ultimately, it is that sense of being owned by him that I want.

I agree that dominance is an internal construct and I would not dream of expecting my husband to do things that for him don't come naturally. However, I owe it to him to explain what I need and give him the time and the room to explore his own desires.

Like a lot of men I would argue, he has had a lifetime of suppressing his natural self, his dominant side. As his partner I have been complicit in demanding he stifle this side of himself. If his dominant self is 'allowed' the space to emerge with me then I am confident it will. In fact, it is emerging. I have just had more time to explore my submissive self than he has allowed his Dom to explore.

I agree with you that D/s sexual acts are somewhat hollow without the experience of control over the mind, but we have had a lot of years of not paying attention to this side of ourselves and now it is a lot like getting to know each other again. Our relationship went through a great upheaval last year and that has given us license to redefine it. So! here we are! Time and lots of communication is what we need. I am also aware that there may come a point when I will have to move outside my relationship if my husband can not give me what I need. For now, I hope not.

Lx

Monday, December 27, 2010

Q&A 2: Doms in my life?

A discussion with a correspondent highlighted and clarified some further self reflection for me...the below is posted with permission


Hello

Your next set of questions..my online Doms? I have had many conversations with what seems like scores of men, but few become longer term ongoing connections. I could easily count on one hand the men who hold a place in my heart. There is one man who has been special and this contact is such a slowly developing one that it is difficult to describe. For the most part I find it is very difficult to find the right man online. To sort the chaff from the grain. I am cautious and this works well to sift out the men who are 'pretenders'. It also sifts out the men who have no patience to wait for me with my caution. So really there have been a very small handful of men who I have called 'Dom' in my life.


This journey for me has only been happening in the relatively recent past, the last 12 -18 months really, and I am very inexperienced. There have been men that I have spoken with, who I have taken learning from but only a very few who have suited me, made me feel that buzz, that thing that makes me want to curl into them and get lost in them.


I spoke with one man very early on. He took his time and was very patient in encouraging me to submit to him. I became quite attached to him but he disappeared quite suddenly and with out explanation. This is a danger of the online connections and as a result I have never actively looked for long term connection online, but if it has happened it is all the sweeter. Due also to my natural caution, I have been quite passive in pursuing further conversations or chats and ongoing online 'relationships'. I will happily stay in touch, but do not pursue men to fulfil the need in me. Having said that if the right man happens along and leads, I will follow.


I have discovered relatively recently that I prefer the Daddy / girl dynamic and I called one man Daddy. This was short lived. He was wonderful but fast with what he needed from me and though he said I was able to give it to him, and more, I never really felt I did. I felt anxious with him, like I was swept into a whirlwind, unsure of the flurry of activity he created around me with his demands. When I confessed to him that I was feeling love for my husband again, he let me go. This hurt a little, but I did not fight it, preferring the natural way of things to play out. Perhaps too I knew he was not right for me.


I have a connection with one man which has been developing over the last year and which is very hard to define. We 'lose' each other due to timezone differences, the vagaries of the Internet, our own lives, work and what I perceived as his disinterest in the beginning. We always come back together somehow and at the moment we have been in contact for a long period.


He is the man I am most connected to. He is the one I would do anything for if he asked it, demanded it (and have so far). He has engaged in D/s lifestyles, but we began in play without any particular emphasis on D/s, though we certainly stepped outside the bounds of conventional vanilla play. We have acknowledged that there is some strange and fundamental connection between us, we are alike. I may not talk with him for weeks in some instances but when he pops up again in some chat site, I know him instantly. In this instance, with this man, there is something unusual which connects us.


At a time when I was unaware of this world (ttwd), he hinted at things, but was really quite unconcerned about names and labels as he led me along this path. He led me further as he saw me investigate and discover these delicious treats for myself. He has only recently used the word 'Master' with me. He is not purely a 'Daddy' and he is not purely a stern task master. He has not required explicitly for me to be 'owned' by him. He has not yet demanded I called him Sir, Master or Daddy. He has not required that I submit to him and him alone. In all these things though I feel completely his. I am his and his alone, though I believe he does not expect this. I feel safe with him. I feel respected, cared for and I feel owned by him. When he did use the word 'Master' for the first time (very recently) in reference to himself over me, it was not a threatening word to me, as it has been up to now. It felt right and I realised I had already known this for sometime. However, he has always given me the freedom to seek out other men, in fact, he requires it and loves that self in me that 'keeps searching' he calls it.


There is one other, who found me through our creative pursuits. He saw in me what I hide from that world in which we both move. In fact, he read me like a book through some art I create and post online. This is an ill defined liaison also. Sometimes, and most recently he has surprised me with his expectations of me, though he knows about the man i have described above. My liaison with him is a most dangerous one. He knows me, though my life outside ttwd. I have always worked to keep these two worlds very separate and he brings them together, both exciting and intimidating.


Of course I feel I can only 'belong' to one man. The man who doesn't demand exclusive rites is the one I feel the nature of 'belonging' to most. I suspect that is because he lets me fly to discover and play, he knows I will always return to him. Others demand exclusivity and because of the nature of online pursuits and my obligations to my husband, I am not free to give myself to someone who demands this. Maybe this will change..I know myself well enough to know that if this ever became physical with either of these two men, I would be completely owned. My heart lives in my vagina, quietly but profoundly.


I have found the final part of your question the most challenging, what do they make me do? I find I am a little shy to describe these things, save to say their demands on me have been and are discrete, not public, as they consider my relationship status and respect and care for that. In that way these men have always looked after me and my family.


Finally, a training programme? This is where my inexperience has played a fundamental role. I don't know what a training programme looks like, but I have always chosen connections with mature (40 +) experienced Dom men. Men who understand my situation and who respect it. Men who have experience enough not to push in the beginning but to wait for me developing trust, gently encouraging me and pushing when necessary. Men who possess a keen intellect and who can challenge mine. That is exactly why the two men at the present moment have been around for the past 12 months or more and why others have fallen quite quickly by the wayside. They understand the need to build trust first and are not men who assume that because I am on a sub journey, I will lay down and roll over because wear their label 'Dom'. With both of these men however, the journey has been slow and I don't know the future directions to be taken.


Lx

Friday, December 24, 2010

Q&A: My husband and my Sir

I received an email asking me if I would mind answering a few questions about the path I am travelling. After replying that I didn't mind at all, my correspondent asked some daunting questions, which I have not posted here. My responses however, have helped me see the path more clearly than I had seen it previously..a bit of self reflection never goes astray, especially guided self reflection. I have posted my responses here, with the blessing of my correspondent, for my own benefit as I undertake A LOT of deleting of emails..never keeping anything in order to protect the shadows in which I live, and to lose this self reflection right now would be a great shame for me.  


Hello

Life is speeding along at the moment so I apologise for the delay.

Thank you for your questions. I completely understand how my journey and blog can be confusing and murky and I guess it is deliberately so. I have explained that I write it as a bit of a girls diary, a way to express what I need to get out from inside my head. I move very quietly in this new and shiny world I have discovered of TTWD, save for a quiet comment here and there on a post that particularly captures my imagination. No one knows it is there, only the people like yourself who discover it for one reason or another (usually via a comment I leave on a blog).

How I got to this point in my sexuality is quite a story, but to answer your questions. I think hub might be interested in D/s but has never really explored it in the way that some men, such as yourself maybe, take it on and make it very real. What I mean by that is that he has not (i don't think, but all men have secrets), discovered the continuum of D/s from what I see as that light end as expressed by the Daddy / girl dynamic, through to the darker end of the spectrum and the Master / slave dynamic. The deeper black of the Master /slave dynamic is the end of the spectrum that I suspect he knows as this is the most well known in the 'vanilla' world.

Slowly I have tried to explain what I need and desire, as I have discovered it myself. He has responded to that and has enjoyed it, but he sees it as purely sexual play. Truly, I am asking him to change the dynamic of our whole relationship. He has rarely taken the lead in our life together and I guess this is what I need him to do, but this means changing me too, changing the self of me that has always been the capable one, fixing everything and making the waters smooth to navigate.

So, to answer one part of your question, I have not gone outside my marriage to find a Master in reality, physicality. I have not, in honesty, been brave enough to break my agreement of fidelity in that way to my husband, though I have no religious affiliation or beliefs that would prevent that. I have tried connecting with men online only. I have discovered men and their wonderful sexuality only online. I have made a couple of connections online over time but have, for the most part, kept them all overseas, not really trusting myself to leave it online due to the incredible ache uncovered in my own sexuality. Even online this has been at times a great source of guilt as far as being dishonest with my husband.

I think my husband is moving more and more toward the Dom in him the more he realises I have given him 'permission' to do so. Slowly we talk about it  and then I notice he acts on what I have said, he pushes a little further.  The one thing however, I do need from him that he doesn't seem to understand or really get is what I call the 'mind fuck'. That aspect of D/s that plays with my mind and my psychology. The aspect of it that makes me feel small, little, precious, whore-like, used and dominated emotionally as well as physically, but totally cared for and safe..coming to no harm. This is what I get from a connection online. I receive the physicality of sex from my husband in spades, but the mind fuck, the 'tasks', are derived from an online connection.

In answer to your question, do I find it distasteful to have hub use, exploit and objectify me? Not at all. In fact I love it..it gets just that little closer to the 'mind fuck' aspect I talked about. I have led my husband to your blog in an attempt to explain what I need. It is your writing among most and perhaps A Dominant Character, which explain most clearly how I need him to be with me. It is a slow journey and the ache in me is a need that requires satisfaction while I wait for him.

I hope this has answered your questions a little..feel free to ask more questions if you have them. I appreciated you expressing the fact that you have no agenda, sometimes it is difficult to know.

L

Monday, December 20, 2010

my task

so...



I waited until later that night to do what you 'asked', what you expected.


I crawled into bed next to my sleeping husband. My hand slid down over my stomach, tugging slightly on the piercing in my belly button, over my smooth mound and quite nicely onto my little pleasure button moist with the anticipation of cumming in the dark, silently, for you, not for me, not for him.


Round and round, I wished I could have used my little purple buzzy beast, but the noise and activity was sure to wake him and frankly, I was a little tired, so too much leaping about was something that I wanted to avoid.


I became breathless and very aroused quite quickly, my mind drifting to "Seattle" and white hot thoughts of a man, a fantasy I had been playing with for some time now. In an instant you were there with me, standing over me in the dark, watching my slippery cunt, my fingers working for you. I imagined the silence you stood in, smiling slightly, hard as steel, sniffing the air and the drift of my scent to your nostrils, knowing that I was doing what you wanted, what you demanded, while I lay next to my husband, the man I fuck every day.


My toes began to curl, my legs grew taut as every muscle in them clenched bringing me closer to the edge. So very wet as I imagined you there, heard your voice in my head.


Your smooth voice, deep, strong and so bloody sexy. Filled with confidence in every word you say, not sleazy, just sure of every word you utter. That's half the attraction I think, your voice that can take me to those pretty places, with such confidence, like a play rehearsed a million times. You never stumble over those words. You always know what's coming next. You never appear to feel uncomfortable uttering things that belong better to a porn movie than to my everyday life. You are always present, in that moment, as if you exist for that, to be uttering those words across the distance to me, where I exist only to respond to them. It's all very sexy, potent.


As my head played all these thoughts, something unintentional happened. My husband stirred, rolled toward me and found me pleasuring myself for you, though I believe he didn't see you standing over me and he certainly didn't see your hand resting on my belly, palm pressing on my mound, nor your long fingers splayed down to my clit.


His hand moved to my round ample breasts, flicking at my hard nipples. I felt a little disgruntled at first. Pushing him away didn't seem an option as clearly, I was close to coming. I was looking forward to coming. A silent coming somehow builds more energy for my pussy. Energy unable to escape from my mouth is diverted to my pussy, making my orgasm electric. Then afterwards, slight nausea as I try to catch my breath in quiet, controlled, dizzy, chest heaving, bottom tingling. But now with him stirring it was unlikely I was going to be able to get to complete my task and sleep quickly.


His hand moved to squeeze my throat. He pushed his face into my cheeky, his hot breath on my ear. I felt his hard, hot, cock on my thigh. I knew I was going to be fucked. I closed my eyes, I kept you there, your hand round my throat, your hot breath in my ear, your voice telling me to come, your hand sliding around my clit, so close to coming.


A gush and a hurry, his hand squeezing tighter round my throat, (something I love, the shame of admitting that makes my cunt tingle even now - all those things that nice girls are expected to deny exist in themselves), I came, his hand moving over my mouth, 'shhhh' growled in my ear.


Hardly having time to finish my orgasm, your orgasm, to its conclusion, he flipped me onto my stomach, pushed my head into the mattress, thrust my legs apart with his knee and pushed himself inside so forcefully, I let out a cry muffled by the mattress. FUCK!, that was a surprise! His hands on my head holding me down, his forearms pinning me under his full weight on my back. Pulling slowly out and then in again, gaining strength speed and depth. My agitation at him interrupting my 'task' was dissipating, especially as he had chosen the method I most liked (mind you he rarely chooses any other these days; the genie is out of the bottle).


It became quite clear that at that moment I was lost in his need, I was being used, I was there to serve his desire. Objectification...oh my my. I was still breathless, still dizzy, and being fucked in the most deliciously unexpected way. I smiled into the mattress and wondered at your approval, then, the most primal cry came from him and he collapsed into me...pulling my hair away from my neck, soft lips kissing it gently, he rolled off me, cum spilled from my pussy...gathering me in his arms...my thoughts drifting to you..hmm I don't think this is quite what you expected from me... sleep.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

i want Daddy back

I want Daddy back.
I want my cake and eat it.
Petulant, pouty, I want Daddy back.
I stamp my foot, shake my head, frown..cross my arms, I want him back!


I want him to take me again, push me again, punish me again.
I want the chaos again!
I want the thrill again, the wet panties and the anticipation of Daddy coming to make me his.

He says "in a heartbeat".
It's up to me.
So why don't I say it?
A coward? Maybe that's me.

Monday, December 6, 2010

finding me in him

How strange I think to myself.
I think i am falling in love again.
I long to see him at the end of the day,
I grieve to see him walk out the door.

The forgiveness is real,
the resentment and hurt is abating.
I love his touch,
I am patient with him,
The irritation with his breath is gone.
The wound is healing,
I am not afraid any longer.
I feel safe in his hands,
I have given myself back to him.

I think I am falling in love with my husband again.
The realisation of this makes me cry.
Like a switch is flicked and I see us again.
The confusion of the last 18 months is receding and clarity is returning.
It feels like I have arrived..like I made it back to him.
My journey, almost over. 
I drifted away from him, pushed myself away, afraid of the hurt, afraid to live the pain again.
He waited. 
I never thought I'd come back, but here I am, loving him again.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

A letter to Daddy

                                                                                      
Last night I did as you asked.

I washed and prepared myself in the bathroom. I performed my ritual with creams and oils and put on the bra and panties you gave me permission to buy. This seemed like the right thing to do. He liked the new set very much and as a celebration purchase of my submission to you, it seemed like poetry to me. As I prepared myself my thoughts were with you, of you. Thinking not about him, but about you. I wondered at your intention, why you instructed me to approach my husband like this?



I walked to the lounge room where he was sitting on the computer. The flogger in my right hand hung at my side i could feel lightly brushing against my leg. I walked to him, his eyes all over me and then he saw the flogger. I knelt, handed it to him with both hands and arms out stretched. He took it from me the corners of his mouth turned up. I was excited, nervous, wet, this was a relatively new path. I lay my head on his lap as he pushed the computer away.


"my body is yours to use."


He pulled me up to my knees and held my face between his hands. He spoke quietly, almost inaudibly, "will you submit to me, will you do anything I want with you, without question, without resistance." I was surprised at this, was he playing? He's not Dom...is he?! I nodded in response.


I was thinking of you, thinking that I was doing this for you. I was getting a little confused at the same time. Confused at how easily you could be there with me, about to fuck my husband.


He pulled me up and lay me across his lap on my stomach. His hand circling my bottom, then...a sharp but quite gentle *smack*. It felt very good, tingling between my thighs, almost sensual. I was a little embarrassed by the fact that the lights were on and the windows wide open. We have a lot of windows in the lounge room and all very visible from the road outside. The strikes got harder interspersed with the sweet feeling of his light feathery touch circling on my bottom. mmmm, delicious. As his slaps got harder they eventually made me squeal. It hurt and I struggled to get away, to make it stop.


He pushed me back to my knees and pushed my mouth onto his cock, hard and oozing. Again the lights! the street! He held my hair and pushed me onto his cock so deeply I gagged. I think he likes to make me gag. He pulled me off, a quick breath, then forced me back down. I love cock, love the feeling of it in my mouth and deep in my throat, love the heat and I love the way a man melts under the power of a wet, hot eager mouth, a willing throat. He undid my bra and slipped it off. He found my hard nipple, pinched and twisted. He told me to rub my cunt on his leg "like a dog". The pleasure of this feeling on my clit was equally balanced by the humiliation of humping his leg like a dog.


He was getting more forceful, more excited. He pulled me back by my hair, this always hurts and I was beginning to feel a little wounded,  but nothing to how I would feel later. His other hand went to my throat and releasing my hair he looked me straight in the eyes and slapped my face. The shock in me was undeniable, my eyes were wide, he smiled a little then *slap*, I felt it in my bones, his large heavy hand on my face. Again and again. I winced every time his hand landed on my cheek, I felt my eyes begin to well up.


Picking up the flogger he wrapped it around my neck and pulled me to my feet. He didn't talk to me other than to issue the occasional instruction, "stand up" etc.


He pulled me by my neck to the hallway and then seemed to change his mind, "get on your hands and knees, crawl to the bedroom". The flogger still around my neck, he led me/pulled me to the bedroom. I waited on my hands and knees, I cast my gaze down and saw my breasts hanging. I was immediately caught by a sense of humiliation like I had never felt before and I didn't like! Tears welled in my eyes again and at about the same time I felt the flogger come down hard on my arse. Catching me off guard, I squealed.


He continued to flog my arse for a time, then stood in front of me, pulling me to my knees and onto his cock by my hair. He continued to flog my arse as I sucked him. Every time the flogger came down on my arse I winced and stopped sucking and I discovered that made it come down even faster and harder. Finally, he grabbed my hair and pushing my head down, instructed "lay down". I lay on the floor face down. He seemed to be in possession of an added energy. Everything was speeding up. I was beginning to feel fear, anxiety, and I was certainly feeling humiliated and a little unloved. I reminded myself why I was doing this. I wasn't doing it for him, because he had said the words "submit to me". I was doing it for you, for Daddy.


Now, as I write this, that makes me feel more comforted...last night, it did not, I was a little fearful of him, of his inexperience, but only a little. I felt confident I could make it stop if I really needed to. I hoped I could.


Laying face down I was aware that there were tears on my face, that I was crying...I didn't like this anymore, but I was willing to lay there, to wait while he moved around the room doing something, gathering something..."come here".


He sat on the edge of the bed, vibrator in his hand, I crawled to him, knelt between his legs. He pulled me to him and I began to lick his balls, suck them into my mouth one, two. I found his arsehole and licked (this is not my favourite things but I knew he liked it, I knew he liked me to play with his arse..). He handed me the vibrator, "push it in my arse". I did. "suck my cock"...I did..."you dirty little slut"..I sucked him until he came in my throat. My face was covered in his cum..it was in my hair, oozing out the corners of my mouth.


He flipped me around and began to finger fuck me, he had fingers and thumbs in each of my holes and one on my clit..he fucked me slowly and then hard, he brought me to the edge. His cum on my face and in my hair. He pushed another vibrator into my pussy, your pussy Daddy, wet and dripping and needing to cum, needing reward for my use. He twisted it round and pushed it against my rim...almost instantly I came and came hard. I thought I'd come hard and loudly in the past, but this was another ball game. Wave after wave, I think you must have heard me scream from there Daddy.


He picked me up afterwards and held me until I fell asleep covered in his cum, in my wetness.


I didn't know who this man was until then, until he held me. I didn't know him like this!..He has hit me before with the flogger, he has fucked me hard before, but until last night, I don't think he's ever really used me. I felt disregarded, little, objectified. I felt like shit. and I don't think I liked it...not from him.


I will have my white panties, the ones I bought without your approval clean and ready as you wished. Thank you for your email..I woke this morning aware I didn't have any instruction for today. So I logged on. I am getting a feeling that you won't forget me.


I am your girl x

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Feminism

I was enjoying a dinner out with my husband. Nice wine, great food, quiet restaurant. One of those rare nights of escape when the family is absent from our responsibility, so we take advantage and run to restaurants, shows, sex right through the house. I love those times!

Anyway, we were sitting enjoying our evening when something he said made my heart flutter, my excitement grown and my breath leave my body.

Quietly, barely audible (it was a quiet restaurant), he said "this Domination and submission thing..."

After having recovered from choking on my wine, he went on, "Well, I've been thinking. I've been surrounded by strong women all my life and equality in the sex's and in my relationships. It seems to go against that."

I almost had an orgasm there and then...he was thinking about it! He was considering the implications for our relationship..oh JOY!!


If you have read anything here, you will know I am new to recognising what I now think has been there all my life and I understood completely his question, his concern, as I'm sure you do. So there, in the restaurant, we had a discussion about feminism, D/s and my interpretation of the dynamic between them. I explained that for me there is no contradiction. Recognising and then embracing my submissive self, is an act of feminism. I think I have said not too long ago, that choosing to submit is, for me, an expression of feminism. I am not being forced to this decision, I retain the power to choose to submit. I remain a strong, intelligent woman. D/s will not deny me opportunities to grow or live my life. It will not deny me educational or career opportunities, because I know he would not deny me these things. For me submission is feminist rhetoric made real..I am in possession of the power to choose, and I choose to submit....Now if i could just find a Dominant man! ;-)
xx

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

red lace parisienne

A quick thought to start my day..

He told me to wear the red lace Parisienne panties today.
I woke and lay in the hot near summer morning on cool cotton sheets. My thoughts drifted to him.
I rose, showered and washed my hair.

In the dimly lit bedroom, the morning light creeping around the corners of the blinds, I began my ritual.
Naked, I looked in the mirror, loving the curves and the shape of my arse, the hang of my breast.
I bent over into the draw looking for the red lace.
Pulling them out, I lay them on the corner of the bed.
I sat on the floor, as I do every morning after my shower, mixing the cream and oil in the palm of my hand.
I smoothed the mixture over my body. First my feet, calves and thighs up to the curve of my arse.
My arms and shoulders, feeling my breasts and pink nipples.
My neck and my back. This has become my ritual, my time alone.

I sat, my knees tucked under my chin, hugging them to me, deep in thought, the world racing past outside, the warm summer air drifting through the open window.

I stood, pulling the red lace Parisienne panties from their rest and pulled them on, up and over my arse. Thinking of him, as instructed (though I didn't really need that instruction). I had been thinking of him since my eyes opened.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

finding Dom

Just some thoughts to start my day. I have said in the past that this blog is a way for me to live in secret. Cloistered thoughts given a place to be. So if you do come by and read, thank you and I appreciate any comments or emails. 


I make no apology for the personal and self indulgent nature of the words. For me this place is like the diary I used to write as a little girl. It is not clever nor thought provoking, as many of the blogs are here. But if you want to read you are welcome. I guess that's part of it for me..making it public without being known, like telling a friend my thoughts, my secrets that I cannot tell anyone in my real sphere, so i tell you.


My yearning for this lifestyle has become acute, painful. An itch that is often not scratched, not nearly as much as I need. I am a needy bitch, so needy it hurts. An independent and assertive woman all my life, outwardly in charge, work, family, wife (well partnership) but its a marriage nonetheless. Then there is that other me, my other self, my other she. The she that hopes that man, that Dominant hand will move into my sphere (told you I was needy).


I was reading A Discerning Dom  today. His latest post describes the anguish and longing, the craving for his girl in a far off distant country. I identified with this so much, as I do nearly all his posts, just like I was living them..uncannily so, really. I have only had smatterings of contact with the D/s relationship online and being in a far off country, timezones have been an issue that for one reason or another have played a part in the failure of any real connection. I applaud the DD and his girl for somehow making that work and in truth, I envy it.


In finding a man online who suits me, who makes me crawl to him with delight, I have learned that the Internet is like real life really. There are men who are wonderful, but equally there are men who are not. I had a most recent experience with the latter which left me feeling rattled, ashamed and violated (and not in a good way). The sordid detail I cannot even deal with here, but his effect on me was profound, so much so that I shrank back, small and closed. I found myself, after this encounter, seeking out trusted men that I know to be good. I found myself cocooning in familiarity, but with men unavailable to me. I have never felt more alone in my life, needing to confide in someone, to make this hurt go away, to feel safe and protected. That man is not there though.


The episode illustrated for me that a Dom man is going to be essential in my life, I can ignore that no longer. Funnily enough, the one man I have regular contact with, I would give everything to. I have only just realised that this is the one man I measure every other by, every facet of him I look for in others however, there exists no formal arrangement between us and we may go for weeks without contact. The tyranny of our distance makes me ache, the need for him is strong in me and I find myself thinking about him quietly whenever I am alone in my head, almost in meditation. I would like to have an explicit understanding between us, but I don't think this will ever happen, for one reason or another.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

the virgin spanked

New to this deliciousness...spanking. Last night he spanked me. His hand came down hard enough to make me draw breath quickly into my lungs.

A little shocked, like the first hand received on her arse by the secretary in the film of the same name. I remember the look in her eyes as she gazed at him incredulously. There was that crossroads right then as she looked at him, still bent over, elbows on the desk; she could stand up and walk away right there and then, or she could submit. The tension at that moment was palpable and very exciting I remember.

Here it was for me, that moment of surprise. It was not likely however, that I would walk away! The excitement in me was thick with anticipation. His hand came down on my arse in between my cheeks, his fingers curling to reach my pinkness. This is where I discovered the why people loved a good spank! I felt the heat grow instantly and my juices were evident. I am usually moved quickly to arousal, even sometimes in a permanent state of arousal which can be very uncomfortable if I can't be relieved. This however cause me to be immediately aroused and quite happily dripping!

He continued with a rhythm that was almost comforting. The strokes became harder, heavier. The sting was delicious but I began to squirm, to try and get away. It was beginning to hurt!..badly. He pushed my head down, holding me by the hair. Harder, faster...my thoughts raced, I was in between needing to cum and needing him to stop.

He didn't stop though, he kept going, holding me in place, smacking my red arse until I was so wet my thighs were covered. I needed to cum desperately. He slid his fingers inside my hot wet hole. I clamped down on them, almost involuntarily but not quite. Fucking me with his fingers, spanking me with his huge hand. I realised I had stopped struggling, stopped trying to get away...and as I realise this, the wave built in me and was released almost at once. My moans turned to screams as the wave passed through every muscle in my body.

I was a spanking virgin no longer...I was a spanked slut and I became a fast convert at the temple of spank!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

have you ever been...

Have you ever been so needy it hurts?
Have you ever felt the ache that won't be sated?
Have you ever had the burn deep inside?
Have you ever felt close to tears..driven there by the longing that will make you scream with just a tiny push?
Have you ever felt the loneliness of offering and not being taken?


I have.


I feel the frustration,
the irritation.
I feel the longing deep inside.
My breath grows shallow, my sweet pinkness swells and throbs,
screaming to be taken,
to be used,
to be loved.


My submissive she cries with impatience, having offered herself freely in sweet devotion,
..ignored...


crushed.

Monday, November 8, 2010

mmm I wake

mmm I wake, sleepy eyed but with a smile over my face to his whispers...'baby girl'..'goodbye'.
He says how delicious my warm skin is under the sheets.
He says I smell like I should, filled with his cum. All dripping down my thighs.
I like to sleep, all messy in his arms once he has filled me...
Once he had pushed his way in from behind to my aching slick cunt.
Once he had put his hand around my throat and one hand over my nose and mouth.
Once he had taken me from behind...and filled me with hot ribbons of his cum.
Once he had roared as he filled me...
Then I like to sleep in his arms and wake to his voice as he leans down to kiss me goodbye...
goodbye baby girl.

Friday, November 5, 2010

The style of submission I choose

So much is happening, it remains confusing at times. My husband enjoys the blogs I have led him too, (my own blog though remains a secret from him..my own private Idaho!). Like a switch flicked, he is beginning to understand my journey and he is starting to follow a path that is pleasing to both of us. This journey together might be nice.

I have played online with wonderful men and one has walked into my vision that now I can't get out of my head. I wonder, thinking of my secret self that the author of 'A Dominant Character' spoke of, and a concept that I have not been entirely unfamiliar with, I wonder if my secret self will stay secret for very much long. Secret and anonymous.

There is only a few blogs here which I read, not because I am not interested in anyone else but simply due to the restrictions of time. I follow a few blogs written by 'Dom's'...at the risk of incorrectly labelling these wonderful men who share their thoughts. I have been thinking lately about who I am with reference to labels. David, in A View from the Top, poses a question about the type and quality of submission a woman chooses. He offered a precis on current discussions regarding three styles of submission; passive, active and aggressive. David suggested that to be passive in submission, the traditional idea of submission, could lead a woman to becoming lost with regard to her own desire and creativity and become a purely passive recipient of her Masters attention and command. At least this was my interpretation. I felt my feminist rise and throw her head back (steady girl). To be actively submissive, I interpreted, is to be active in the titillation of your Dom/ Master/ Sir...(and so many other labels). Finally, aggressive submission requires some show of force by the Dominant partner. The submissive she must be overwhelmed by their strength and superiority.

As a novice in this bright, shiny and wondrously delicious world of submission and Domination, I find these arguments describe the subtlest and greyest of differentials. When applied to myself, I see me in each of these descriptions and each of them in me. In the end each of these styles of submission will be defined and agreed inside the relationship between a man and his girl.

Returning to my feminist self; I love her..this feminist she. As a liberated woman I have the power to choose...and I choose to submit. I have a freedom in that power, I am happy and released in the power of consentual submission or consentual non-consent.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

after dinner

I cleaned the kitchen with haste but was careful to leave it spotless. The cold stone bench sparkled with smoothness and shone brightly. I loved it that way. The whole time my thighs dripped the wetness he had left me with, I could still taste myself from his fingers he had thrust into me and then into my mouth. The delicious aroma of his bitch in heat.

Every time I bent forward to wipe down the surface, I was further stirred by the ribbon pulling tightly across my arse from the suspenders I had earlier put on in a vein attempt to get some constant attention. Instead he had spanked me lightly and sent me to wash up for dinner. After dinner he had rammed his fingers in my pussy making me drip uncontrollably and demanded I clean the kitchen. But now, with the constant restriction of the suspender ribbon across my arse, with the fading sting from his hand, the taste in my mouth, I was aching for more. I was aching to come. Aching for his cock. I finished my chore quickly and well. I was sure I'd be rewarded now!

I moved t0 the lounge room where he was reading a book. I kneeled at his feet resting my head on his knee. With out lifting his eyes, his hand moved to my hair. Fingers tangling it, twisting it, pulling it. I love it when he play with my hair..when he reigns me in by it. He liked it to be kept grabable, long and loosely curled.

His book is thrown down, he pulls my hair hard, pulling me up, I slide to my feet.

"Undress...take your blouse off" I slid my blouse up over my head letting it fall to the floor at my side. The heat between my thighs grew even more intense..the whole evening it had been heightening, teasing me, frustrating me. I was wet, very wet..I wanted nothing more that to touch myself, for him, in front of him, showing him how hot he made me.

"Take everything off, show me your tits"

My hand reached around to unclasp my bra, letting it fall in front of me at my feet, at his feet. My breasts released, like the hounds baying at the moon, begging for attention, my nipples hard and erect with excitement. His hand reached to my left nipple, clasping it tightly, squeezing and twisting. My eyes began to water with the sharpness of the pain. my breath quickened and I trembled under his touch.

"Lift your skirt, I want to see my girl's sweet cunt."

Reaching down to pull the hem from above the knee to above my mound..."legs apart!"..I stepped out, anchoring my heeled feet into the floor. The gush of cool air on my precious pink flesh felt suddenly icy with the contrast of the air hitting my heat and wetness. Immediately his fingers on his unoccupied hand flew to my engorged hot slick lips...mmm. My head fell back in ecstasy and my eyes rolled further.

"Don't move!" he growled in that low tone that meant business, "don't move until I tell you to."

His fingers traced and teased my slipperiness, my breath grew short and rapid, his lips moved to my mound, his tongue darting to my slit and finding my clit too easily,...heaven had just visited my doorstep! I was so on edge, so needy that I was liable to come at any moment. I could feel it building in me, it was likely to be big , I fancied with all the anticipation and teasing tonight, bigger than any other. then...

"Don't you cum!" the low growl in his voice rose t0 my ear.

Don't come!! don't come!!! I was at once frustrated and excited surely I couldn't stop it. I had to try hard. His tongue did it's worst while I tried to detach myself from this insane pleasure between my thighs. I thought about all sorts of things, fairy floss and Ferris wheels, summer frocks and cold cold water as I virtually plunged into it. But not for long, his tongue on my clit and tracing my slick slit kept pulling me back, that pleasure, that torture, I was getting closer and how was I going to hold it back.

In one movement he rose to his full height, towering over me, pushing me down, falling to the floor squatting in front of him. Sliding his belt out of its loops his hard cock straining against his zipper. His belt lightly slapping my cheeks. One, two, gently inflicting the sting on my face. My cheeks reddened as his strokes became a little harder. My pink engorged lips growing wetter...

His hand twisted in my hair and in one movement he thrust my eager mouth onto his hot, hard cock. My tongue felt the heat and throb of him. This was my heaven, what I loved and where I felt most complete. Looking up at his eyes with his cock in my mouth. Swallowing it, caressing it with my tongue. Pressing its hard softness to the roof of my mouth. Holding my gag reflex at bay while I sucked and pulled. I reached to cradle his tightening balls in my hand. Squeezing them and loving them. My other hand circling my clit, fast, hard, bringing me closer to that edge I was not allowed to cross. My eyes watered as he pulled me deeper onto his cock. He liked to see me struggle. Sometimes I thought he might push me too far; when the struggle for breath was close to being too much and dizziness would almost over power me, he would rescue me, pull me away from his cock and allow the gasps of air to fill my lungs again. Tears rolled down my cheeks, the dizziness subsided and just before I am truely recovered he pulls me back to his cock dripping with my saliva.

Now I was getting so close, I prayed he would allow me to come. Precum and saliva mingled and dripped out the corners of my mouth, spilling down my chin, dripping onto my glistening breasts and nipples. He was getting harder still, his breath deeper as his excitement grew. His hand grasped my hair so tightly, but the pain and sense of being controlled was what I craved, and I lived for it. I existed for his cock....right here, right now, was where I belonged, and at this moment, I felt that this is what I was born for. I was going to come, I didn't know how to stop it. My mind was swimming with need. He knew how close i was, he always does.

"Wait!"

Tears of frustration falling down my cheeks.

"I want you to take my present" his voice was softer than it had been. I loved it when he wrapped me in his softness after he had pushed me with his coldness, his command.

All at once he shot his thick hot ribbons of cum into my throat, "cum little one... cum NOW!".

I let it go, all at once, my body tensed, waves of muscle tension moved through me. My cunt tightened, I felt my self falling. He held me up by my hair, pulling me deeper onto his cock and his cum, shooting down my throat, swallowing, not wasting a precious drop. All the while my own body responding to his command, to his control. Wave after wave went through me. My mind turned to mush as it always does, no thinking, just the control he had over me, that delicious feeling of complete helplessness as he came in me, as my cum sprayed onto my fingers.

As the waves began to subside, as my life became complete in that one instant, he pulled me off his cock, leaned down to my mouth and kissed me firmly, stroking my hair.

"good girl..my girl"

Monday, July 19, 2010

dinner

I sat at the table, the sting in my arse still deliciously present. He had surprised me with a couple of sharp taps from the wooden spoon he had not yet used in his cooking, but plunged it into the pot after spanking me with it.

He watched me in silence from across the table take in every mouthful of the culinary delight he had prepared. His eyes burned into mine and my cunt grew warmer with the anticipation of the night ahead. Latino dance drifted through the scene from the CD player and the gyrating rhythm only served to heighten the heat in the room and in me. I drank the red wine he had given me, and topped up, and with every mouthful felt its warmth move over me, encouraging my body and mind to a heightened sexual anticipation. I wriggled and squirmed in my chair as my thoughts drifted to him, his cock and the ache growing between my legs and my tight puckered arse.

I picked up the empty plates and took them to the kitchen, putting them down on the hard stone bench with that sharp cold sound that resonated so differently with an empty plate than one full with the sweet aroma of steaming food.

I turned and seeing him behind me gasped with surprise. He'd moved silently behind me his hands placed on the bench either side of me. He leaned into me and took a kiss, hard, fast and tasty. He stepped back pulling his lips away from me and catching my lower lip between his teeth, ripping back, a little pain caused me to shiver. He kicked my legs apart sharply and stood staring into me, his hands moved to my breasts. I placed my hands gently behind my back and clasped my forearms, surprised at my automated action. Was this what was meant by 'training'. I was moving and acting like a bitch in heat. My hands behind my back, my legs apart, my gaze down...waiting, the way he liked me to, though usually it was completely naked and with a hint of public exposure, by an open window or the back veranda. I waited like this while he cupped the curve of my breast through my thin blouse, rubbing his thumbs over my hardening nipples, my tits bursting forward, the black lace bra hardly holding them.

In one instant he pulled my blouse down to expose my lace clad tits, the neckline of my blouse now underneath them. He reached into each cup and pulled my ample bosom up and out. Now they stood out proud, their weight supported by both the bra and the neckline of my shirt running under them.

His hands squeezed and twisted. He rolled my large pink nipples between his fingers, and pulled sharply on each not taking his eyes off mine. I dare not squeal with the pain, but I felt my eyes begin to water. I didn't move my eyes from his. He demanded I look in his eyes when he was in front of me watching my reaction so intently...

'Mmm pretty tits, my tits, my girl's pretty, full, chubby, tits', he murmured as he plunged his mouth to my nipples, sucking hard and biting them, first the right then the left. My eyes watered with the pain and my cunt grew wetter and started to ache with the delight of it.


He leaned into my face, his hot breath tracing my cheek, smelling my skin. His hand sliding to my neck, he pushed me back against the hard bench. His hand slid under my skirt to the trace the top of my stocking. The SNAP! against my thigh of the suspender ribbon he found was delicious and caused me to breathe in sharply with excitement. His hand slipped between my thighs and finding the heat, a slight smile traced his lips...'Mmmm..good girl'. Pulling me by the throat he dragged me across the kitchen and thrust me against the wall, pushing me up high until I was level with his face, eye to eye, I struggled to stay on my tip toes, finding it hard to breathe with his hand on my throat, my heart beating faster, harder with the exhilaration in me. He pressed his lips to mine and sucked out what little air I had left in me.

In one movement, while my head was dizzy with the lack of air, he pushed me back over to the bench, bent over, my suspender ribbon stretching across my arse pleasuring me with that tightness and constriction, delicious! I gasped as my tits pressed into the cold stone, his hand twisted a mass of blond curls and pushed my face into the chill of the stone strewn with cooking pots and dinner preparations.

Lifting my skirt to expose my round arse, his hand circled my buttock cheeks. Right, left, my thighs were wet with excitement.

SMACK!!! it came hard and unexpected. A cry from my lungs filled the room, but the delight in me was tangible. His hand slid between my thighs, his finger traced my engorged slick lips. In one movement he slid his finger into me. One, two, he slid in, out...fucking me, pulling out and pinching my clit, sliding in, fucking...breathless, moaning, I was going to cum. His hand push down hard on my head, pushing my face into the hard stone. I closed my watering eyes and moaned with each thrust of his fingers curling up to reach that spot that drove me wild. I prayed he would allow me to cum. He teased my clit in between each thrust, each pinching and slapping my clit with his hard wet fingers. My juices flowed thickly, he leaned his face into mine, licking my cheek, my ear, clutching a few strands of my hair between his teeth and tugging it. Moaning, crying, praying he would let me come, I couldn't contain myself, I didn't want to, but I wanted to be a good girl, to please him.

I thought I couldn't take any more, his cock was hot and slapping against my thigh...then...

He pulled his hand away! thrust his fingers into my mouth, to suck, to clean, to taste myself.


He pulled my skirt back over my arse...let go of my hair..

'Clean this kitchen up,' he said as he gave my arse a sharp slap through my skirt.

I screamed with frustration inside, but I began to do as I was told, trying not to pout too much, flushed cheeks, breathless and raging to cum.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

a step forward

I was hungry, feeling sexy, needy...

I pulled down my jeans and thong over my ample arse and bent into my draw of frilly, lacy silky things. I had built quite a collection over the past few months, giving into my desire for all things pretty, little and sexy. hmmm I wondered. I saw the red suspender belt ribbon laying delicately over the laced fabrics...mmmm....now where was the black..I felt like black, he always likes me in black, or red, but I felt like black, and to this point he had not taken the lead on deciding what I should wear.

I found one of my silky thongs also and slipped it on pulling it up just a little too much so it tugged on my clit and rim giving me a feeling of pleasure when I took a step. That's what I loved about suspenders and stockings too. Once the suspender ribbon was clipped to it's stocking edge tightened and taut, with every step it pulled across my arse in the most delightful way. I often can't resist snapping the ribbon against my arse and thigh as I walk, to feel its pleasure and let everyone around me hear that sound, the little sharp snap against my skin.

I sat and pulled the gentle fabric of the stockings over my leg to my thigh, attaching the suspender ribbons to them front and back. My thoughts drifted to days gone by, how lucky women were to wear stockings everyday, no pantyhose then! Even today I make sure I wear them when ever I can, but the opportunity to wear skirts comes along less often than in days gone by also. Sometime I wish I had been a woman of the fifties, if only for all the suspenders and paraphernalia that restricted the female body, hoisted it, and bound it in the most delightful ways, thrusting it up and out, sculpting and curving it inwards, rounding it out...mmmmmm heaven.

I slipped my feet into my patent red pumps and like Dorothy following the yellow brick road, I hoped to find the wizard tonight who would take me home. He was in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. He liked to cook, he like to feed me and he liked to have me relishing his creations while we sipped wine from the region nearby.

I found just the skirt, full and light. I loved the feeling of that material caressing my arse. My breasts, encased in their black lace cage, pushed up and out just the way he liked. Happily, I liked this too and often ran my hands over my tits feeling the nipples hardening with my growing need. I selected a top that plunged down into that cleavage and exposed those two mounds of flesh, ripe and full. As I dressed the heat grew between my thighs, the tingling began and I was growing more needy.

I walked with all those pleasures pulling on me, to the kitchen. I waited at the door until he noticed me. He look me up and down, from tip to toe and turned back to his creation. I came up behind him at the stove and turning my back to him rubbed my arse against his. He knew I wanted his attention, needed his attention, how could he not! and he would give it to me when he felt like it, when he was ready of course. I felt him turn to face me, I bent forward, he loved me bent over. I pulled my skirt up slightly showing him what I had prepared for him. his hand slid over my arse, rubbing its roundness, smoothing it out, caressing it. SNAP! he pulled on my suspender ribbon....mmm he knew that would drive me into wetness. SLAP! His hand came down hard on my aching arse, propelling me forward just a little. Mmmm, my nipples were hardening. Then ... Crack...CRACK!!! My arse stung with two quick hard cracks from the wooden spoon he had picked up from the cold stone bench. The surprise and the pain made me squeal, my eyes watered and my breath drew sharply into my lungs. The resonating sting on my arse was delicious...'It's nearly ready, go and wash your hands' he commanded and turned back to the stove...

Friday, July 9, 2010

the submissive type test - a gap analysis

Well it was a bit of fun i guess. These sorts of tests always are though i'm not sure if I entirely agree. I'm beginning to see though that the spectrum of interpretation of kink and submission is so wide that any test like this can't be expected to entirely capture all the shades. If i think about it though, ponder over it, it is probably quite generally true of me and my darker desires.
Your result for The submissive type Test ...
Kinky SubmissiveYou scored 30% Humiliation, 43% Submissiveness, 43% Service, and 62% Pain!

You're the kinky submissive, you scored relatively low in both submissiveness and service meaning you scored high on either pain or humiliation.

You're into bdsm for either the pain or the humiliation, or both!
You don't value highly the need to service a Dom or the need to feel conrolled, what you want is either a scene with pain in it, or humiliation, either way you'd probably be more comfortable in a relationship with a Dom in which you meet for the scene, and no very long term scenes.
Also scening with your vanilla partner is a valid option, you could ahve alot of fun that way, more then the regular sex. You're just kinky :)

One last thought...just taking the test got me moist, breathless and flushed.
(apologies for no links. i just don't know how. But i found the link from a view from the top... and David)

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Blackmailed into submission...a story

He talks with me, he toys with me, he plays with me...he and I talked and played the following. Some thing we wrote together, something he kept and i didn't. I don't keep anything as its part of the secret. He says he will come to me..but when, or if, is anybodies guess. I live on tenter hooks and then he sent me this, taunting me with discovery, strangely hot, to be blackmailed into submission. ... I trust him not to, vulnerable and full of trust.

Blackmail

He: I walk in and meet you at the pub, and drop a few transcripts, screen shots of you and your number and tell you to do as you're told! I tell you that we're going to the hotel room I've checked into nearby. You don't have to come with me, but you're taking your chances if you don't. It's time that I made some decisions for you. And we both know why you would come to meet me, and what you really want and need.

she: 'My God!' I trembled, thoughts racing, scared, panic rising in my throat.

He: I notice you looking through the pictures, trying to see if they're obviously you........and I laugh at you.

He leaned close to my ear, grinning, his hot breath winding over my cheek now flushed with both sheer panic and a sense of excitement that caught me off guard. His lips so close I could feel their light brush on my left ear.

'You've been a lascivious little cock tease for too long little one. Now I'll help you make up your mind'.

He: I finish my drink and leave everything in front of you, walking out down the street. Do I have copies? Is this a sham? What do you do?

she: Follow! With the evidence!

He: I stride faster, hearing you breathing hard and scampering to catch up. It's a beautiful day, isn't it little one?

she: Too dizzy and confused, panic stricken to get much of any coherence out of me in response to your question, your simple question. I can't really believe you are going to do this. Thinking maybe you are joking. Wondering why I continued when I had a chance to get out. Now I'm trapped.

I followed up the street, barely able to catch his 6ft plus striding ahead. He moved with a sureness that showed a confidence of knowing me, of knowing what I would do, a confidence in what choice I would make. How could he know me so well, I had been careful not to reveal too much. I had been sure I hadn't let him know how much I longed and ached for him. How much I was coming to need him in my life, albeit at a distance, when it suited him, when his life allowed it, when he allowed it. I came last in that list, but when we talked I felt like he had been waiting for me as I had for him, like he wanted me in ways I had only ever dreamed about, but longed for. Now running down the hot afternoon pavement, the heat of the day burning in my lungs, I wondered who he was, repelled and drawn, aching for his touch and reeling with terror at the thought of him destroying everything, my long term relationship with my first love, my life. My body was responding with the thrill of it. My heart racing, my breath shallow, the heat between my thighs growing and my pussy dampened my panties.

He: I put my hands out to take the paperwork and pictures back from you.

she: I give them to you.

He: "Good girl. You weren't sure if I had copies though, were you? That's a hot outfit you wore for me today, Nice tight blouse and jeans are a favourite."

I look down on you, standing next to me like a child in trouble, not sure of what's going to happen to her next.

"You always tease me about your sexy underwear little one......what is it today?" he said in a calm matter of fact way, a grin barely tracing his lips.

"Black lace Brazilian knickers, and my favourite black lace bra." I almost stumble over my words.

My voice trembling but determined to find my way through this. The traffic roared past in the summer heat. Harsh sun poured down on my head. I felt a drop of perspiration trace my spine, flowing in a rivulet down the centre of my back, between my shoulder blades. My mind drifted in that instant to your fingers catching that droplet..tracing the wet trail down my back to reach the scar on the base of my spine, the small of my back. Your hand spreading over my buttocks, cupping it holding my arse like you had described so many times...violently brought back to the street noise by your voice..a hint of contempt and all condescension.

"That was sweet, wearing your favourite for me. Are you going to show me, my little slut? You are MY little slut today, aren't you?"

"Yes" Lowering my eyes slightly, I felt my body bending to him, submitting. "Now? Here in the street?!", it dawned on me what he was asking, demanding, expecting.

No! he wouldn't do this to me, our first meeting! he wouldn't...I felt the growing in heat between my thighs, the trepidation and terror was a drug to my excitement.

He smiled as he enjoyed my growing discomfort, "That's exactly what I meant.......take your blouse completely off and we'll take a stroll."

His tone was full of considered nonchalance, but his expectation was clear and steadfast. He waited for me to comply..but i sensed he wouldn't wait too long.

"Can't I just unbutton it for you..." pleading with him, underestimating his resolve.

"Nooooo you can't.......it's all the fashion, you'll be fine. I can always go and leave you to it if you prefer. "

"No!" expelled from my lips before thinking. In fact i wasn't able to think.

My eyes flashed to the papers in his hand, wondering if i could take the chance. I had met Him on the Internet, all those stories.. the ones you hear about naive people meeting on the Internet, cons, people coming to harm, real harm. I thought I was smarter than that..I thought I could control any situation. I craved and needed the control to be taken from me, but I saw myself as giving it freely. Here, now, this was different, I had become one of those naive women from the Internet. My sense of humiliation and embarrassment over my own stupidity was acute. How the hell did a smart woman like me let this get so far out of my control?

Unbuttoning one at a time. Slowly. Moist eyes. Not sure you’re the man I thought you were. Imploring you.

"It's good of you to undress in the street slowly for everyone, but I'd hurry up if I were you"

"Can't we just go to your hotel room." Pleading with him.

"Still not used to being polite, are you?"

"Can't we just go to your hotel room please?"

My distress was growing, not knowing which way to jump realising I was trapped, something I saw he was enjoying. He was in control of his caged little plaything, he held all the cards. I began to see how that he always had held them, steering me and guiding me to this moment. I was aroused, no doubt, but confused by the fear. My nipples were growing hard under their black laced encasement. Growing wetter, my breath shallow and a sense of excitement over my body. my skin tingled with the expectation filling my little pink beast.

"Take it off!" his voice a slight growl, shocked me back from my disjointed thoughts.

He towered over me, closer now than he had ever been, he leaned over me burying his face in the top of my head. He breathed deeply through my blond loose hair taking a few strands between his teeth pulling back with a sharp tug that nearly pulled it out. He smelled my hair again and growled a low 'mmmm...'

she: With some trepidation...not and inconsiderable amount, I slip the blouse down. Flushing, red cheeked with embarrassment.

"Good girl. Give it to me."

I handed it to him. Arm outstretched The sound of those words, good girl, making me tremble, making my nipple firm and excited, but still looking around me, hoping for help from somewhere...anywhere!

"I don't know why you're embarrassed, they're an awfully good pair of tits. You were right when you teased me telling me about them. Do you think we should ask someone for a second opinion?"

"No. Please!" Covering my breasts with my arms. "Please can we go to your room?"

"OK, we're unanimous here anyway I guess.......but put your arms beside you."

"Yes.." Flushing red with embarrassment. Unable to believe how I got myself here.

He: I walk off down the street, and you realise in your confusion you're standing there in the street like a toy soldier with your lacy black bra clad tits. You start to follow me quickly, then realise with greater embarrassment that we were two doors from the hotel I've checked into, following me to my room.

she: A sense of relief. A deep release of breath.

He: I open the door marginally and you fly past me like a cat about to be fed.

she: I’m a little cross that you've put me through that. Getting my energy back now that I am hidden from view. But also aware that I am very wet. Breathing more evenly.

He: You see me rifling through my bag while you gather your thoughts. "Take your jeans and shoes off, make us both a drink too."

she: A little confused...I’ve never seen this side of you as we chatted online or talked on the phone. A side with some disregard for my discomfort. I think for a moment about walking out, picking up my shirt and running, always best when I’m running.

He: I watch you run out, standing at the doorway laughing.

she: I remember the papers...stop ...turn. I look at you, would you really do it? I think to myself.

He: The smile on my face telling you.

she: I walk back to you...brushing past you into you room, and begin undoing my belt, unbuttoning my jeans and dropping them to my ankles. My thoughts running to a song I once heard that told about a woman looking her best with her pants around her ankles. I kick off my shoes, the lack of heel making me even smaller against your height.

"Now.......walk outside to the next room and come back.....that's part of your first penance for pulling that stunt. I don't care if you want to run or not, just do it!"

she: My eyes flash to yours...then down to the floor. I just have to get through this, then I can do the school run. Get back to my life, perhaps put this behind me.

He: 'You stupid little slut, don't try that again or fuck off for good and really take your chances."

she: The words cut through me like a knife. I do what you ask quickly and quietly.

He: You take step or two out the door and hear it shut, the door locking behind you

she: "shit! bastard...bastard!"

He: I laugh as I hear you outside cursing.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

My first time

Asked the question...your first time, what was it?
This got me thinking. An experience that I don't think of often but when I do, I remember it with fondness and warmth. I thought about it again when I happened across the question in a blog and read the responses from some of it's followers. Responses ranged from an upsetting non-consensual experience which effected the rest of the victim's life to the beginning of the rest of a life of commitment and love.
I began to think of mine, my first time, my first sexual experience actually. I had not previously done more with and boy, or a man other than a hot kiss where tongues met in mutual and excited exploration. I was 19 and an art student, while he was a student also he was 27 yrs and a glassblower, an artist. He was lean and had an artists pony tail his hair pulled back in a neat tie. His finger nail on his little finger right hand was long. He was not the sort of man I usually found attractive physically, preferring taller well built young men with short hair, straight noses and dreamy eyes and smiles, everything young teenage women wanted in a boyfriend. R had a kind way about him though and I guess, being that much older than me, I was attracted by that maturity and suredness he possessed generally and sexually. We met through one of the many art school parties. There had been many parties, alcohol and drug fuelled but fairly mild in temperament.
We met at the campus library one spring evening just as it was closing and we found our way to the carpeted steps just inside the entrance. We sat on the stairs and within a short time I found myself in fond embrace with him. His hands tracing my body, his tongue and lips exploring my neck, ear and my mouth. His hand slid up my thigh under my skirt, his palm pressing on my mound, his finger slipping to the growing moisture and heat beginning to soak my panties. It was growing late, my breath was fast my body began to tingle and I ached for what I had not experienced in my 19 yrs. I broke away from him, nervous, mumbling that I had not been with a man before. I think he was a little shocked and pulled back. I wish he hadn't. He asked me to come to a party he was having at his house the coming weekend. I left longing for the weekend ahead.
The party was like any other, loud, happy, with alcohol and many people. In fact I don't remember too much about it, but I remember clearly after the party. R stood behind me in the half light, passed out bodies and quiet around us. His hands traced my thighs and came up to rest on my ample breasts, my nipples stiffened with the excitement of his touch through my blouse. His mouth played on my neck, my right ear dropping to my shoulder in elation as he sucked and bit my neck. He propelled me forward, through his bedroom door, pushing me with some amount of force that thrilled me to the bone, though I was not aware of it at the time, but I was about to have my first experience of domination. This is how I was to lose my virginity, to relinquish it to an older man, experienced and bending me to his will.
He lifted my arms and pulled my blouse over my head exposing my young untouched body and my breasts cupped gently in a white lace bra. Still behind me, his fingers slid down over my body coming to rest on my thighs, sliding his hand to the front and in between my legs he took hold of my mound and slipped his finger over the top of my summer skirt and panties to rub and circle my clit. I was hot, wet and a sense of embarrassment at my wetness overwhelmed me. I tried to pull away. His other hand slid up under my skirt and his fingers pulled aside my panties and slipped between my growing moist lips and rested on them, threatening to slide inside my pussy. I gasped with surprise and a growing excitement. He held me tight and in such a way that to try and break myself free from his hold would send his fingers deeper into me, the slightest movement and he would push his finger a tiny bit further into my wetness. I let go a slight whimper and I wasn't sure if it was trepidation or excitement. I didn't know what to expect. I was naive sexually, but being held, unable to move without the threat of violation began to excite me, the heat grew between my thighs and I ached for him to penetrate me further.
"Shhhhh" he muttered into my left ear, his lips resting on my ear, his hot breath sending a thrill through my body. His fingers slid between my thighs, he was coating my thighs with my own heat and wetness. half pushing half pulling me to the mattress on the floor...what can i say, we were all students, no-one had a bed under their mattress...
He pushed his fingers deep inside me, my virginity being violated, but god it felt good. My head swimming with the oxygen I was taking in in big gulps. Not able to think, to dream, to resist. This has been a condition of sexual excitement for me ever since. In the heat of a mans touch, I cannot think, safe words are forgotten, a condition which has been enjoyed by men, knowing that I will forget in the moment whatever word has been decided upon.
His hand slid out of me and grabbed my arse, so hard that I squealed and gasped with surprise and a bit of pain. My body shook with excitement and still behind me, he sunk his teeth into my neck, as he bent me and pushed into my tight virgin cunt. He pushed my face further into the bed and pulled my hips to him, forcing his throbbing shaft into me. I remember the fear tinged elation as it began to dawn on me that I was being fucked in a way that was so thrilling to me. It felt completely right and good though this is not what I had been told sex was! Missionary 101 was what I had expected and this was way beyond anything I had imagined. It was hot, hard, and all I knew was that I wanted this to be forever. I wanted to worship this cock, his cock and this act for the rest of my life. I should have known then that this was what I was going to be searching for in all my experiences with men..but what does a 19 year old girl know? nothing!
He pulled my arms back to him with each thrust, tits bouncing and the pain searing but fleeting, I was not a virgin anymore, fucked magnificently a smile stretching across my mouth ..that's all I think I thought as I whimpered and moaned. Each thrust, propelling me forward while he exerted a counter pressure pulling me back by my wrists.
I could feel my heart beating, my own juices flowing down my thighs, tingling and building I thought I would explode, my head, my cunt in unison wanting to do something but I did not know what. What a wonderful and ecstatic surprise as the waves came through me, spreading out from my fucked cunt, rippling through my body, every muscle clenching and releasing in warmth and ecstasy. A moan turned into a scream and came from my lungs so deep it didn't sound like anything I had ever heard come from me. I was aware of his cry at the same time. So primal it scared me...he collapse into me and on top of me pushing me down onto the bed where we lay, feeling the wave of orgasm move through us, tears falling down my cheeks. I was so overwhelmed I couldn't move. He put his arms around me, rivulets of sweat mingling and pulled me close, stroking my hair. He kissed me on the head and on the lips.
"Shhh..its OK" ...and it was. It was more than OK, it was fantastic! and I have been grateful to him all my life for my first time.