Old times and New beginnings..

It's New Years Eve here in Australia.
The end of an eventful year for me, and the beginnings of another are just hours away.

I have faced court ordered property settlement, a hysterectomy, I have met the love of my life, moved hours away from my family and hometown to begin a new life with Him, I have a new car, and a new motorcycle.
I have lost friends, and gained new ones.
I have found out some of those trite cliches that everybody sprouts are actually more like home truths. And that those that have been through it, often are the ones to let you learn the hard lessons yourself. Sometimes learning the hard way is also the only way.

I have said goodbye to people that have played an important part of my life, and I have met others who will be a constant source of amusement, friendship and inspiration.

It hasn't been a huge year kink wise. In the last 12 months, I have managed only 2 kink events....3 if you count last New Years Eve. But I haven't missed it really. The public scene is great in small doses for me, but it is not where I want my kink life based permanently.

I look back, remembering last New Year's Eve, getting ready at a friends home, chatting with another girlfriend on why it was I was single.
I know I was a constant source of consternation to those who knew me. I didn't actively chase men, nor did I encourage their advances towards me. My "dickhead" radar serves me well, I knew who wanted what, and what I was prepared to give, and those who advanced wanted me not for myself, but for what they imagined I could give.
She asked me to list all those things I wanted in a man. I did try and tell her this was as fluid as a river, that what I wanted now didn't mean it was what I needed or what I would need in the future. Nevertheless, she asked me to list the superficial things that turned me on, the things that given a choice, would accompany brains, intelligence and a sense of humour.

My reply?

Tall.
Standing 5'9" and having a penchant for high heels, I like to still remain shorter than those I stand beside. (in a romantic sense, most of my friends are 4 feet fuck all tall)

Dark.
The one time I deviated from this...it landed me in a bad marriage.

Bald.
I liked the idea of the freshly shaven head. I had never had the opportunity, but I wanted to try it.

Tattoo's
As the owner of 5 tattoo's (at the time) I appreciated those whose art choice were worn on their body as mine are.

Bikie/Trucker.
This is where my inner rev head slut appears. There is nothing better than a machine revving between your thighs, or the vibrations that pass through your body as a truck descends with its engine brakes on.

I figured, as long as I could get somewhere close to that list, I was going to do ok. It would at least take care of the sexual attraction bit. At least.....on my behalf.

I quickly then added 'Accent'
I am an accent slut. I have been known to hold completely inane conversations with total strangers for the simple reason, that they had an accent. Similarly, I have been known to follow men around the supermarket because they smell a certain way.

She laughed at me.

So there we were, half dressed, no makeup, she is laughing so hard she is nearly peeing her pants and I am frowning.
She gets out her phone, sends a text message and says not much more on the subject.

We ventured out and about. To a kink club. With other friends.

She then informs me, I should not be surprised if I get a message on Fetlife in the next couple of days. She has recommended that a friend of hers send me a message.
Being the insatiably curious girl I am, I then ask who.....quickly backing it up with the excuse of needing to know who she had sent in case I got other requests from our night out. She tells me, and I ponder the fact it might be lucky the car was stationary, lest I drive into something in my shock.

The gentleman she had messaged was a play partner of hers, and one I had already perved on from the comfort of my couch.

He messaged the next day, hungover. And as best I can recall, that was the extent of the communication for the next 2 weeks.

Next event....who happened to be there??? Said handsome perved upon gentleman.
Annnnd being the matchmaker she is, my friend had coached him into greeting me with an Irish saying, spoken (of course) in the thick Irish accent.

That was it.
I was done for.
Excitement ran down my leg....literally!

It was the beginnings of something I had no idea would result in the things it has.

2 weeks from that day, we had our first date. It lasted more than 8 hours, and ended with my declaration of love....and Him riding His motorcycle into the sunset.

Almost 12 months later, I love Him more today than I did then.
We are combined under 1 roof, kids, cats motorcycles and all.

Tonight I am not preparing myself for a kink event. I am not even preparing myself to leave the house.

What I am doing is contemplating on how many Wii games that 5 kids will have me playing, or how many popcorn kernels will I have to vacuum off the floor tomorrow.

I love you MY Sir, and even though you are not able to be here with me tonight at midnight, know that you mean the world to me.

I love you always.

I am yours forever more.

You are my everything and my happiness.

My Happiness

a slut in control...

I was given the opportunity this week to take control.

In the bedroom.

Sexually.

Presented with a naked male and told I had complete control to do whatever I wished.

*insert major panic attack*

Not a random male.

Sir.

I faltered. I am pretty sure I stuttered, and I am damn sure my eyes were wider than saucers.

"Ummmm, you do know that the bit about being a sub means NOT taking control right?" was the first thing out of my mouth.

"But, but.........I, ummm, errrrrrr, oh boy, sheesh" was next.

In that sixty seconds I realised that NOT taking control has become a habit I don't want to give up.
I was lost. I don't remember ever taking control like Sir was offering, and to be honest, it had no appeal. But in that instance I realised something..... It must get tiring to always be the one to make the decisions, to be the one who takes control, who plans what will happen next, with no input from a loving partner. (Moans, squeals and squeaks don't count as input, just so you know)

He reads me very well. In the past few weeks, Sir has seen close up and personal to the stress that I allow get to me occasionally, and the sassiness in me takes over. But it is an unconscious behaviour, and not one I had noticed until Sir pointed it out to me. He has become adept at taking that stress and beating it out of me with great success. I turn into Suzy Homemaker afterwards apparently. Cooking, cleaning and smiling a LOT.

But there are times when we want mostly normal adult raging hot fucking and kinky sex time, without it being to de-stress one of us, and it's those times that I am sure it becomes exhausting to always be the one to 'make the first move' and always be in control. Having said that, I have absolutely no interest in being in control and making any decisions in that scenario.

Hmmmmm impasse.


I am coming to respect the Dominants in a different way than I have before, as I suspect they often feel the same way about submissives. There is something innately awe inspiring about watching someone successfully achieve something that is a completely foreign concept, that often you cannot imagine undertaking yourself.

I don't want to take control, and therefore, am in awe of those who can and do with success.

Sir amazes me when He reads my moods, correctly judging those times I crave the need to feel control, HIS control.

But maybe, just maybe, I need to be more proactive in a submissive way in those 'in between times'

The "slave" number issue.......

I found a blog.

There's a surprise... NOT

But I digress and before I continue.. I warn you.. Please read the following with sarcasm inserted in the appropriate places. If you cannot tell where the sarcasm needs to be, this post may not be suitable for you.

Anyway, I found this blog.. written by a "slave".

I am not normally one to publicly criticise someone for sharing their feelings and documenting their journey, but I am going to, without guilt, due to the fact that I am not posting a link, nor is she ever likely to read my blog and feel bad.

Every post she has written makes me cringe.
Badly spelt, words inappropriately placed which alter the whole meaning of the point she is attempting to make, grammar seems to be a dirty word, and yet, her whole tone is that of someone who is educated.
This is an educated woman in her 40's from what I can gather, not a young 18 year old with a "drop out" degree from the school of hard knocks.

But I read on, curious as to whether she actually has a point to get to, it can be almost like a car accident.. you know you don't really want to see the carnage, but you cannot stop yourself watching.

She has a slave number.

And I can hear you saying "What's your point?"

My point is thus....

I have always held the belief that when someone is given the gift of a slave number, that their Domly Dom type is the person who is doing the registering.
Kinda like getting a collar.
You don't just go shopping for your own collar, then present it to yourself, or god forbid, just show up wearing one. (unless it is just a fashion accessory)
They are actually supposed to mean something.
(This is also the reason I will never EVER buy my own wedding ring)(again)

Similarly...the slave number.

If your Domly Dom type wants you to have one, my thoughts are he will get it and present it when the slave is deserving.

Noooooo, this badly blogging slave asked permission and then went out and got her own.

Good for her!!

Now.... I ponder, does it mean the same when you have to get your own?

Does the coffee not taste better when someone else makes it?
Does food not always taste better when someone else cooks?
Does the car not always sparkle a little more when someone else cleans it?

Does that collar not mean more that you earn it?

Maybe she did earn it I hear you say.....

Maybe she did. And if she did..does she not wonder why her Master didn't make the effort to do something like that for her?
After all, her whole world revolves around pleasing him....

If I went out and got my own slave number..it would mean jack shit to me..permission granted or otherwise.

Threesomes.....

Something that has been on my mind this week is threesomes.

I am a threesome virgin.

But the idea of being at the mercy of two males, to use as they pleased...turns me on.

Double penetration...or add a toy of some sort and make it a triple penetration...makes me curious.

Sir has always given me the impression that He is unlikely to ever share me with another..even on a one off basis.
And I will admit to taking some security in that. It is nice to know He protects me that much.
But after a comment made about filling all my holes, combined with a blog post elsewhere on the thoughts of a male Dom on threesomes, and a couple of posts about others who have had them, all have me thinking more about it.

I shared the blog post with Sir and was surprised by His reaction.
He indicated it was something that had been on His mind lately also.

I asked why the apparent change of mind about sharing me and got the answer "because I trust you"

Am I shopping for someone to play with us??

Not in a pink fit.

Would I if asked?

If I was made to...otherwise I wouldn't.

If Sir wants to share me with another, I would rather it be someone I don't know, someone I won't have contact with again. I never want this to be an issue between us, bring a friend into it would only cause doubts as far as I can see.

But how do you find a person to trust who you don't already know and won't see again?.... that is the dilemma in my head that makes me think I will just have to keep it as a fantasy.

Luckily for me... there are toys we can use to fill more than one hole at a time.

To love Him more than I knew...

There has to be nothing harder for a Dom than to be not at full strength at all times.

It is life and common sense to know that not everyone can be on the ball at all times, that there are times when things get on top of us, where we need others strength, but for a Dom, this must be especially hard to fathom at times.

This week has been a busy one for Sir and I.

An accident on Friday wrote off His car thanks to an inattentive truck driver and some particularly nasty wet weather.
The weekend was busy with Sir at my place in a borrowed car, 5 visitors and my kids, so 9 people in total in a not so big 3 bedroom house, but the kids thought sleeping in the living room was great fun.

Sunday night had me travelling the 2 hours back to Sir's house, as I wanted to be able to take Him to the hospital at 7am on the Monday for removal of the gallbladder.

For me, this meant organising time off work, care of my kids, making sure I was prepared for the return home, making sure Sir's house was ready for His return home, packing and a whole lot more stress than I admitted to at the time.

Monday saw us at the hospital, I knew Sir was booked in for an overnight stay, but what I wasn't prepared for was for Him to come out of surgery looking as He did. Oxygen through a mask, and that look of someone who has been under anaesthetic was one thing, but He looked much worse than I had expected. This is where I admit to crying in the carpark where He couldn't see me.
And probably not so much because I was upset at how He looked, but the self realisation of How much He means, to me hit me harder than I expected.
I stayed 13 hours, sewing, reading, and watching over Him as best I could, all the while feeling as useless as tits on a bull.
Tuesday was emotionally horrid for me.
I walked into that room 12 hours after I had left, and found Him looking worse than the night before.
Morphine given to Him for the pain had left Him unable to take a deep breath, which in turn caused a lung to collapse during the night. The bile in His gallbladder had leaked into abdomen during surgery, which had caused a fever, and those two combined left Him looking like death warmed up if you will pardon the expression.

By days end He had improved 200%, but another overnight stay was happening.
I had planned my time under the assumption that I would be leaving Him to head back home safely tucked up in His own bed, not at the hospital for yet another night.

The drive home was one full of contemplation, thoughts and music to keep me awake.

After my marriage broke up, I swore that I would never do it again, that I had no need for someone in my life that mattered so much. I was determined that I would give my kids 5 years of my undivided attention, that I would find someone who was ok with just the occasional weekend together, maybe dinner occasionally during the week. Yes, I wanted the kink, the raging hot sex, the feeling of submission, but never did I think that I would fall in love.
These reasons are probably why I submitted to my ex-Dom, he made it clear to me that happy ever after was not on the cards, and nor was it something I wanted. What we had together worked for the time we were together.

When I met Sir, I also did the whole "never getting married, just want some fun every second weekend, my kids come first, don't want to fall in love stuff" with Him.
That lasted all of about 2 weeks before I fell in love.
My kids always come first, as do His, but kids are different. They are reliant on us for almost everything, we are expected to be there no matter what, and both Sir and I are determined that it will be that way for our kids.
But together, that is different.
He is my world, my everything and He owns me heart, body and soul.

Seeing Him not at full strength was not a shock, it was something I expected to happen. Who can have major surgery and be back to normal in an instant?? No mere mortal, that is for sure.
But to see Him looking so ill, irrational thoughts went through my head. Thoughts like I haven't had the forever you promised, that we have too many things left to do together, and while I knew He was in no immediate danger of actually kicking the bucket, it showed me how much He really does mean to me.
It also showed me that I don't always need Him to be the strong one, that I am quite capable of being the strong one when it needs to be like that, but that me stepping up and showing my strength doesn't make me any less submissive, it makes me a normal woman who loves and protects my man, whether He be a Dom or just a nilla man.

But it makes me love Him more to know that He can be honest enough with me to let Him see Him not at full strength, not at His strongest and not the Dom I know most of the time.
Having said that.... it won't be long before He is back at His wicked, evil best, torturing me with all sorts of weird and wonderful things.

I love you Sir, with all I have.

Communication is on the menu...

Today was the first time I have ever reached out to my ex-Dom since we parted last year.

I felt a little like something was off centre, I knew it was something I couldn't explain to Sir. I didn't know myself what my issue was, so explaining it to Sir was nigh on impossible. So I reached out to my ex-Dom.
He knew/knows me well, he reads me well, and I have no hesitation in thinking that he would have known something was up just be the simple fact that I searched him out rather than the other way around.

After the Fucktoy post, he popped up on my YIM for a chat. We have spoken twice since then, so we are not chatting often, not even once a week, but we are in touch.
And even though I thought it would never happen, its nice. Its nice and it is odd in it's own way. I don't know what to call him, his name doesn't feel right, but neither does the word Master any more, so it is usually just Hi and goodbye, no names. Its telling to me that I get the same in return, no names, no kitty, none of my real name, just Hi or a Hey you :)

Having me pop up on his computer screen would have told him something was going on. I did wish for a mini spy cam to see if he rolled his eyes at my use of the term 'spaz out' but I knew he would understand the head space I was in.

What the chat determined was.... I was craving submission.

I am always Sir's submissive... ALWAYS, but.... midweek I am just me, I have no tasks, no rules, yes, we have regular contact with each other, daily, and multiple times, text message, ph calls, instant chat, emails...there is never a day that goes by that we don't have contact. But there are no expectations midweek.
It is not something I have consciously thought about up until now, but I miss tasks.
insert eye roll here
I am not sure I can effectively explain what tasks mean to me, but I will give it a go.

They are small things I did, at the request of my ex- Dom, which were designed to please him and from that, I got a feeling of serving, a connection of the submission, doing something that is not my choice, at a time determined by someone else...it is a way I felt connected, even over a long distance.

Here is where I admit that I used to resent tasks, they always seemed to be at a time that was inconvenient, kids home, visitors coming over, something always made me feel like I wanted to put it off til the last minute I could... but in the end, I always felt a sense of accomplishment when I had completed them. I didn't always get a reaction, sometimes I wondered if they were even received, but I could always take a deep breath, feel like I had accomplished something that would please him after they were done.

Some were photographic, some written, some physical, they varied. I don't presume to know whether there is some sort of Domly type master list of submissive tasks, randomly selected when needed, or whether they are individual to the submissive, chosen to enhance the submission, bridge the distance and maintain the contact and connection. And really, it makes little difference either way, the fact is, they do bridge the gap, maintain the connection and more importantly, they open lines of communication that are sometimes not breached any other way. Written tasks often are of a topic chosen by the Dominant, designed to make the submissive think about something that they wouldn't normally, perhaps research a new scene, a new toy, or investigate something not yet discussed.

This used to get one of two reactions in me. The first possible reaction was that I found something that I was eager to try, the second that I found something that put the fear of God in me...something I knew would push a limit, break through a boundary that was as yet, not breached. Both reactions had me concentrating on submission, thinking about how to communicate my reactions and maintaining a connection when time apart is hard.

But the point of the whole post is I am craving some submission, and I know my Sir well enough to know that if He were here, He would see the look on my face, His instincts would tell Him I needed something, be it a hand in my hair, a whispered word in my ear....just Something!!

This week coming, there will be very little play for us, winter here seems more hectic than summer, but I have the feeling this week we may get back to more of the talk we had when we first began, wants, dislikes, expectations and wants v's needs.

I have talked to Sir briefly about my craving, explained as best I could, but there is a need for a better explanation on my behalf.. I know I didn't effectively convey the feelings and the mental space I was in at the time.

Yet again, it highlights to me that communication is one of the single most important things in a BDSM relationship.

More communication coming right up......

His Fucktoy...

Driving home from Sir's last weekend, I passed the coffee shop where I had coffee for the first time with my ex-Dom. We had met elsewhere initially, but the rain had meant that venue wasnt going to work, so we drove to a coffee shop close by.
At the exact moment I realised where I was, and that I was almost stopped in traffic right outside the door, a song came on the radio.
It is one I have listened to many times, and love the words too, it speaks to me in a way not a lot of songs do, hits a spot inside if you will call it that.
This song has parts that could be word for word how I feel, some parts not so much, but I didn't write the bloody thing, so that's to be expected.
I am not going to pick out the parts that I identify with, nor the parts that don't mean as much, I will leave that for another day perhaps, and possibly whoever reads this has someone in their past that this song could have been written about, or knows someone like it.
Sir and I discussed a few different things today, stuff about the past, about the future, about the present, and I mentioned to Him that I had heard this song at the exact moment I went past the coffee shop where I had had that first meeting, I played Him the song while He held me in His arms, standing in the lounge.
It is almost like a closure for me that I hadn't had until now.
I never got a last chance at goodbye, once we came back from our trip away, I found out I was sick, and before I knew it goodbye was said....online only of course.
I guess in my mind I always thought there may have been a coffee, a hug and one last goodbye and wishing each other well, but there seems to have been too many things said to make that viable.

Probably more to the point, I feel like it is no longer needed either.
I have gotten rid of the things in the box tied with a bow.
I have sat and thought a lot about the past lately, I am not sure why it is now, life is quite busy for me, it is not like I sit here with time on my hands and nothing to do.

Within the first few months of me starting on my journey, I had spazzed out more than once, and looking back on it, I was fucked up.
Not fucked up bad, but definitely not my normal usual self.
I would cry a helluva lot more than normal. I didn't cope with things that I normally would have, and most importantly, I put up with things that I would have told anyone else to go fuck themselves over.

I am not saying I was treated badly.
I have no regrets.
I learnt a lot and those things I will forever be grateful for.
But I allowed myself to be treated in a way that I could no longer do.
It was never EVER without respect...this is in no way shape or form an attempt at disrespecting my ex-Dom, he made it crystal clear right from the very beginning, before we ever met how this would be.
I accepted his terms and conditions and I did so without coercion, without pressure and knowing the truth about how this would be.

Having said that, I think back to accusing him of making me feel like his fucktoy, that I was something he had sitting on his shelf, to be taken down and played with at his beck and call.
Sir has a pet name for me, something He takes great pleasure into whispering in my ear at different times in that oh so alpha tone of voice that makes you know exactly where your place is in His life....
I am His Fucktoy.
It is one of many words He calls me, it goes hand in hand with slut, whore, bitch and variations thereof.
But it is when He calls me Fucktoy that I melt inside.
It is one of those words that I used to hate, and now I love.
I am His Fucktoy, but the difference is, I don't ever feel like He places me on a shelf to be used when convenient. I am there to be used when and wherever he chooses, and the other times, I am content in His arms, knowing I am loved.


Now I sit here with a very sore arse, and a tender cunt, having today learnt the difference between being fisted and being fist fucked, and knowing that Sir was the first man to have ever cum up my arse.
Psychologically that was a feeling I never expected. Sir has given me many firsts, but knowing He came up my arse and was the first person to do that, make me smile in a way I never expected.
I ineffectively tried to explain it to Him at the time, but I am fairly sure it is something unexplainable, almost like giving Him a virginity of some kind.

Today was not the beginning of a journey, nor the end of another, but it was a day I will remember for a long time.

counting down....

There are people who come and go in your life for a reason, some for a long time, others just a moment.
If you are open, every single person will teach you something, maybe good, possibly hurt you, but a lesson is learnt in everything.

I met a guy, who I blogged about in my last post.

I am now on the countdown to see him in person.

19 hours and 50 minutes and I will be standing there in the flesh.
Able to see him, hear his voice, be held in his arms.

We have met before, it is not like this is the first time ever, but this time I have no fear of being able to share the way I feel, I can look at him and let him read in my eyes, see on my face the effect he has on me.

I am counting down until I can touch him, make sure the feelings I have are real, solid, and that he is there and not just words on a screen making me wish for things that are unreachable.

Is this all about BDSM??

No, this is about life, about finding the person who matches me, who fits me, who treats me the way I need to be treated, who makes me happier than I have known.

This is completely different from the last D/s.
I knew before I started that, it would never be forever, that it was kink first and other things second.

This is different.
Do I want to be in his bed? Yes
Do I want to be tied up and fucked within an inch of my life? Yes
Do I want to be bound, teased, touched, and hurt? Yes
Do I want to be on my knees in front of him? Yes

But more than all those, I want to be in his arms. I want to watch him walk around the house. I want to sit on the vanity and watch him shave, I want to be able to make his coffee, I want his lips on my forehead.

Life has already thrown up a couple of challenges for us.
The upcoming surgery that will put any kind of penetrative relationship on hold for 8 weeks or so.
Him moving house, which means more distance between us than there is now.

These are challenges we intend on facing together. Holding hands. Being there for each other. Knowing we each have the support from the other.

This is about us first and D/s second.
Neither of us can do vanilla anymore, kink will play a big part in our lives I am sure, but it is not all about the kink.

This is life.

And I am counting down. 19 hours and 38 minutes until I am safe in his arms.

I want what you are....

There is an old saying about finding what you are looking for when you stop looking.

I believe it.

Not sure I did before, but I do now.

When He and I split, released, whatever the technical term for it is....when we did that, we stayed in contact, but I went looking. Call it replacing Him, whatever you like..I wasn't trying to replace Him, but I did miss the control, and the other things.

I quickly found out that the majority of the guys I spoke to were idiots and fucktards, and seemingly I was submissive to Him only.

I changed my Fetlife profile from that of a submissive, back to a kinkster.
I defined myself on my profile as best I could, being as honest as I could.

I had a couple of messages, but they amounted to nothing.

After New Years Eve, I decided that I would leave everything on the backburner until after my operation, until I was healthy again.
I was having a semi undefinable, unexplainable relationship with a Dom interstate.
He needed kink but didnt need the physical, and I needed the control and my health wouldnt allow the physical....worked for us as silly as it might seem.

In the meantime, I was still heading to events where I can, meeting new people, having a great time making new friends and loving the Aussie summer with my kids on holidays.

At one of these events, I met a guy.

A Dom.

He was there with his play partner.

I knew her, she introduced us.

I also knew she played with others besides him, that their relationship wasnt committed, but there was love, trust and caring between them.

In all honesty, I tried to avoid him that night as much as possible.
I had this complete and utter attraction to him...something I dont think I have felt in a LONG time.

I blogged before how I had a complete and utter TRUST for my ex Master when we met, but this guy was different.

I wanted to drag him out of that event, out to anywhere I could and get my hands on each and every part of his body and never let go.
I was never going to poach him from my friend, I didnt even flirt, although it was DAMN hard not to when all I wanted to do was fuck him sideways and upside down.

Little did I know that she had told him to check me out, that she said to him I was nice.... I think she may have been playing matchmaker.

It worked.

He and I have chatted about everything under the sun since  the week following that event, I was honest in that I was not well and needed surgery, his response was....

"I don't want what you can offer, I want what you are"

My heart skipped a beat and it hasn't been the same since.

I will keep you posted on what comes next....but I am pretty sure I know where we are headed, and seemingly it can't happen fast enough for either of us.

Bound to the chair..

He leads me by the hand to the centre of the room.

There is a chair. It is settled right in the middle of the room, centred, as if waiting for a spotlight to be shone onto it.

The house is quiet, he says little to me, as he walks to the corner.
He reaches into a bag and turns back to face me, rope in hand.

I look from the rope to his face, back to the rope and again to his face.

He gives nothing away with his expressions, but I know there is a calm about him tonight that I do not often see, this calm almost frightens me. If the trust wasnt there, I would be seriously worried.

I cock my head, watching him, reading his body, watching his movements.

I smile, I have realised what is different..... tonight he is in total control.

Whether I like it or not, tonight is for him, about what he wants, when he wants....his dominance has burst through.

He walks towards me, I look up at him, he has the rope in his hands and a look of total control on his face.

He firmly pushes me to the chair, making me sit, naked, legs open.

He binds me with the rope....across my breasts and stomach, tying me to the chair, stopping occasionally to pull on my hard nipples, twisting the piercings.

The feel of the rope across my skin is sensual, yet firm and binding, I cannot move and yet the more rope he uses, the wetter I am getting.

It is not long before the chair beneath me has a small puddle, leaking from between my open legs...

He walks from the room, coming back minutes later with another chair.

He places the chair in front of mine...facing each other, about 5 feet apart.

He sits, watching me, saying nothing.

I begin to wriggle, wanting something, not knowing what he has planned.

He opens his jeans, taking his cock out, showing it to me, showing me how hard it is, but still says nothing.

He begins to stroke it, watching me the whole time. I cannot take my eyes off his cock, watching his stroke it turns me on...it wishes it was me being allowed to stroke it, touch it, worship it.

It is not long before he stands, walking towards me, he runs his hand up and down the shaft right before my eyes.... occasionally wiping it across my cheek, letting the tip brush my lips, and yet the minute my tongue comes out for a taste, he moves it out of reach.

My pussy is aching, feeling empty, it is clenching looking for something inside it, wanting that cock buried deep.

He takes hold of my ponytail, holding my head at a strange angle, showing me that I am there for his use, his playtoy tonight.

He uses one hand to tap his cock against my lips, letting me taste him, my tongue slipping into the slit on the tip, tasting the precum, wishing for more.

He takes hold of my jaw, opening my mouth, holding my head still as I look up at him.

He pushes his cock deep to the back of my throat, gagging me, making me choke. He holds it there, showing me it is HIS choice how this will happen, when HE is ready, on HIS terms.

He alternates between letting me worship his cock with my tongue and lips to taking control and face fucking me, pushing it deep, making sure the drool drips from my chin, my eyes black with the makeup tears.

His voice is in my ear as his cock is in my throat, telling me all the things he wants to do to me, how he intends to use me, take me, make me his.

He takes control again, moving back to look at my face while he jerks himself off in front of me...looking at the damage he has done, the tear trails, the precum wiped all over my cheeks, the drool on my chin and dripping down onto my breasts....it is like he is surveying the damage, to see if I can be pushed further.

I am desperate for his cock, I am after all, his little cum slut, never getting enough of him, the taste of him, his cum in me, on me, tasting it, wearing it, watching it...I cannot get enough.

He feeds me his cock once more, making sure that he can see my eyes as it pushes down the back of my throat, choking me, my eyes beginning to water once again.....

He pulls back..his hand holding my chin, forcing my head upwards, as he cums on my face...leaving me wearing the evidence of his control, and leaving me in a puddle, bound to the chair.

untitled writing 4 continued.....

The rhythm of the 2 cocks inside her make the wetness run faster down her thighs, the drool running down her chin, they are using her, taking from her what they wish.
The cock in her pussy is fucking her hard, pounding, his hands alternating between gripping her hips and slapping her arse cheeks, maintaining the redness her Sir had left there earlier.

Both cocks suddenly leave her, she gasps for air and moans, wishing they had given her more.

Hands touch her body, moving her, positioning her, making her straddle the stranger, his cock disappearing again into her pussy, as she is pushed forwards, Sir's hands pinching and twisting her nipples.

Sirs voice is in her ear, telling her to ride the cock hard as his hands play all over her body.
She feels a cold wetness against her arse. She gasps, knowing Sir has just lubed her arse for his cock.

A finger enters her arse as the cock she sits on thrusts hard up into her. She bites her bottom lip, knowing this is something she has always wanted to try and never had the opportunity.
One finger becomes two, and they slide in and out of her, finger fucking her arse, getting her ready for his cock.
Sir leans down, biting her shoulder,  sinking his teeth into her deep, as his cock enters her arse.

She groans in pain as they push her limits.
She feels full, they settle there, not moving, allowing her to adjust to the cocks buried deep inside her.
She takes deep breaths, knowing their patience will not last much longer.
Sir's teeth bite back into her shoulder as the strangers hands move to pluck her nipples, and their cocks begin to move again.

She closes her eyes, reaching up and backwards, placing her arms around Sir's neck as she lets Him lead her on this new and wonderful journey.......

frustrations....

I am frustrated.

About a lot of things.

Some days I cope just fine, others...they get the better of me, and other than the punching bag, here is the only place I can let it all out.

I am frustrated by my ex's complete and utter inability to communicate with me...even via text.

I am frustrated with people who wont give me answer to the damn questions I ask.

I am frustrated that men have an inability to tell me what they really think... HONESTLY.

Dont beat around the bush...give it to me straight!!!

Add a couple of feelings in there while you're going, I will understand it better then!!!.

Dont just say no...tell me why so I understand!!.


For fucks sake...

PLEASE STOP FRUSTRATING ME MORE

In all seriousness....

OK.

In all seriousness, I need to know something.

Am I disrespecting what Master and I had by continuing to post here, where if always felt like this was "our" place, "our" journey together, "our" troubles and "our" fun???

And does anyone really want to hear the crapola that comes out of my mouth, bearing in mind that I am not in a D/s relationship and have no intentions of entering one with someone new.

Actually, for that matter I cant even get vanilla sex, so I have no idea what it is I would actually blog about.

I want the truth...and lots of it please.

The comments I get will determine whether or not I resume posting here, or I start a new one.

I will blog again...its where that's the issue for me.

wishes and not regrets...

If I hadn't asked to be released, I would have missed out on so many wonderful things over the last few weeks.

I have met some wonderful kinky people, away from this damn computer.

I have been to two events... Yes _sg TWO events!!!

I have made new friends both online, and in real life.

People who now, I can see will discuss bondage and kinky sex with me even when we are too old to actually be able to do it.

I have had a wonderful month or so...kink wise.

And yet??

I wish I could have done all this while I was still collared, still HIS.

I cannot regret asking to be released, that would mean I would have never posted that personal ad, never had comments and messages from people I can now call friends, never had an invite for coffee, which led to an event, which led to more friends, and another event, and probably more to come.

But I wish there had been a way to be able to have my cake and eat it too.

Fucking MEN!!

I feel like throwing a tantrum...but I won't.

In all the things I have done over the past year or so, in all the people I have chatted to in that time, there seems to be something that consistently shits me no end.

Men.

Men shit me.

Men annoy me.

Men make me angry.....sometimes.

Why is it, that the more "Domly Dom" they are, the less they seem to share.

What is it with the cryptic shit??

If I didn't want to know...I wouldn't have bloody asked!!!

And if I DID ask...then I damn well want to know...and not just a polite answer, try for something a little in depth occasionally!!

And another thing, while I am on a roll.....

It WON'T kill you to SHARE your feelings...you know, all those things you feel, your wants and desires.

I give mine freely....too much sometimes, but when I get to the point where I feel like I am hesitant to share those feelings because I have NO FUCKING CLUE if any, none, some or even a couple are returned, shared or felt....it makes me want to give up.

Seriously....if I get told (by someone who turns me on)  "I would like to bend you over that table, tie you to each end, and use both ends of you until I am satisfied" 

I get wet... FAST!!!

I do not want showers of everlasting devotion, the "I love you's" or the "be mine forever's"

but the "I want to fuck you silly" or the "you are MINE" thingy that some guys can say with success and not sound like a fuckwit...

 THAT'S WHAT I WANT!!

waiting on the couch with friends.......

A wise and wonderful man once told me that I would one day find a new Master.

A beautiful friend told me to stop looking, just make some friends instead.

Someone new in my life told me to "unlock my door, but go back inside and sit on the couch and wait"

I understand all 3.

One day I may find a new Dom...but he will be Sir....not Master.

I went and made a few new kinky friends, attending my first event, and met some wonderful people.

I understand what the someone new is telling me.
I need to stop looking, because the things you seek, you cannot find, it is when you are NOT looking. THAT is when you will find what you seek.



Master has a special place in me, in my heart and in my soul. That cannot be replaced, and nor do I want it to. I do not wish to be without Him, have His support in all I do.
He will always be MY Master,  and even though I am no longer His owned submissive,  I know I will always be His kitty.

We have a connection, a bond, something between us that I hope will never change, even in all the changes of our lives, our situation and what happens around us. The last few weeks have shown me how things can change, but the trust in Him hasn't. I still value His opinion, His words of wisdom and all He does for me.

One day Sir may knock on that door, and ask to come in.

Until then...I have some new and kinky friends, and I know Master will support me no matter what.

Curiosity caned the kitty...

I went!!!

Oh boy, I was so nervous I could have thrown up at ANY point while driving down there.
Thank goodness I had 3 other people in the car, or I am sure I would have stopped, turned around and come home without going.

I wore a little black dress, short, and 5 inch heels.

I almost, at times felt overdressed. The ladies there wore lovely dresses, fantastic boots, and my eye was drawn to a virtual array of wonderful corset tops, which I was instantly jealous of.

I met some wonderful people, all very welcoming and nice..and never did I feel like I was the odd one out, or that my look screamed "newb".

Lots of different play was available to try, I saw rope bondage, gorgeous knots, suspension, a St Andrews cross or two, spankings, men dressed as women, women dressed as men, it was very much an each to their own night and it was wonderful to see it all. I had a blast looking, watching, and taking it all in.

For as much as I had fun, I also walked around a lot thinking of Him. Wondering if He knew I was there, wondering what He would have thought about me going, whether I may have had some rules, temporarily so I didn't do something I shouldn't.

I think I behaved, I did play, ok...shoot me, I was curious... I watched 2 ladies line up and get a caning, only gently, one was a younger girl and it was her first time. The Top was very gentle with her, and at one point I had to bite my lip with her as her face grimaced and eyes widened as the cane landed on her almost bare arse.

I was then gently nudged talked into getting a caning of my own. Yes, I could have said no, but curiosity got the better of me, and that's one of the things He had never done to me.

I bent over, hands braced on the arm of a low line couch, felt my dress be lifted from behind, baring my arse for all to see, I dropped my head, my hair falling forwards hiding the face I was sure was bright red by now.
The "Caner" bent over me, talked to me, told me what he would do, and how, then stepped back and "did his thing" always checking I was ok, smiling when I looked at him over my shoulder calling him a bastard.

Fast foward what was probably about 5-10 minutes and my arse was STINGING.
I put my hand back there and could feel welts, the red hot burning set in, as painful as it is pleasurable.
Standing up, pulling my dress back down, He hugged me, told me I did great, patted my sore butt and stood there with a smile.

Caned Sunday night, and this is the end result on Tuesday.

Since then I have had plenty of time to think about things, whether or not I liked it, whether or not I want to try it again, whether or not I should have done it, and how I feel about the fact that I now have marks, given to me by someone other than Him, had a first experience with someone other than Him.
If I am truthful, and it is in no way meant to be disrespectful to the "caner", I was emotional over it. Having a first experience wasn't as bad as the fact that someone else marked me.
It was odd to have the pain and the marks without any intimacy afterwards, no holding, kissing, touching, definitely not what I have had in the past, and that felt odd, and slightly confusing.

If nothing else happened that night, I gained some wonderful new friends, I got my first caning, and the requisite marks that follow, and I now have to think about what it is comes next.

I give good wordage!!

I received some advice a little while ago from a wonderful friend who told me to STOP LOOKING, and just make the effort to get involved in the local kink scene, or as local as I felt comfy with, make some friends, and just enjoy having a good time.


I pondered that advice for all of about, maybe a day.... two at most.


Then I went to my personal ad I had previously posted and Thanked everyone for their comments, remarked I have not found what I wanted, but knew now what it is that I actually do want....I think!


I do want to stop looking.
I did make the effort to get a little more involved in the local kink scene...sorta, kinda, maybe.
I made my first set of local kinky friends....we had a wonderful 3 hours having coffee, chatting, getting to know each other a little better.


I have also had a new influx in messages.....why I do not know...but I have.


Some I can tell are just chatting, some are friends of the kinky friends, some are strangers wanting a quick wank fest, some are outright bizarre, but in the last 2 weeks, I have had more messages than I have had since I began... all added together.


I have phone numbers, one I am pondering on using, the others I didn't even write down.


I have been called, adorable, sexy, precious, cute, complicated, sassy (now there is a surprise NOT) and a whole host of other names.
I have been told my pics on there range from just ok, to downright fuckable.


The biggest compliment I have had so far???


I was told I "give good wordage"


I am pretty sure that means I give as good as I get ;p


And I am possibly going to my first event tonight...... *bites fingernails*


Now.....what the fuck do I wear?????

Trust.....

Trust...as a dictionary reads...

1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety etc. of a person or thing ; confidence.
2. confident expectation of something; hope
3. confidence in the certainty of  future payment for property or goods received; credit
4. a person on whom, or thing on one relies
5. the condition of one to whom something has been entrusted.


Trust...to me...

Knowing I feel safe in the fact that things I share with you, will not be used to hurt me.
Knowing the things I do for you will be appreciated.
Knowing that my well being is safe with you, whether it be mind, body or soul.
Knowing that if I need you, that you will be there for me.

In one of the many messages I have had over posting a personal ad, one of them commented that he would like to see me blog about trust, I took that to mean he wanted to know what it meant to me...after all, I have only my opinion, I don't try and speak for others.

I posted that I don't trust easily...those are the reasons why.
If I cannot tick all those boxes with you...I don't trust you..as simple as that.
And it is not that you have done something to deserve a LACK of trust, just that you may not have earnt it.

And yes, occasionally I meet someone who I inherently trust, where I go by my gut instinct, and just hope that  I have placed my trust in the right person.

Sometimes you have to trust in fate, that karma is not going to bend you over and fuck you up the arse, unless you like that, and then it would be hoping karma doesn't make you suck on his toes.

Just show me....

"I like being a woman, I like being courted, I like being pursued, I like being wanted & adored - in return I will do anything for that D that has shown I am worth it"

The above statement came from one of my favourite bloggers, The submissivebf found here. 

I often think to myself, and blog that it is almost as if someone reached into my brain and took out the jumbled thoughts and wrote them as I cannot.

While I won't say this is exactly as I was thinking....I read it over and over and it is a realisation of sorts for me.

I am worth it.

I am worth adoration, and desire.

I am worth care and respect.

I like being a woman.

I like that WHOLE statement for the simplicity of it.

Show me, PROVE to me that I am worth it...and everything I have to give you is yours to do with what you please.