phone call control

He called this morning.

I had been given a lovely task.
Today I was to cum 8 times with the aid of Mr Buzzy. Just when I was feeling all disconnected and Loosey Goosey-like.

I made it to 5 quite quickly and easily.
On my knees, Mr Buzzy doing his magic.
A text sent to the Outback told him:

One, Good morning Sir.

Two, an early start.

Three, quiet and gentle,

Four, loud and proud,

Five, hot on the heels of four and a little tired.

The next text to the Outback reported I was resting comfortably.

The phone rang. I looked on the caller ID to see with some glee that it was Him.

'Hello Sir!' in my happiest excited voice.

'Put the nipple clamps on and cum three more times. Now.'

The eighth had barely subsided when he demanded another.
I heard myself  beg him in a breathless sweaty voice, 'No, please, I can't.'
He is fond of saying, 'I don't care, DO IT!'
So again another one. Number 10 rolled in behind that...then he wanted one more!!!
I called him an unflattering name secure in the knowledge that he couldn't reach my arse from where he was. I will no doubt pay for my expletive when he returns. I may be lucky though. He may forget...or not ;).

'Put Mr Buzzy away now and don't touch it, or yourself ,until Friday. We may do this again if I decide you deserve it."

The nipple clamps had to stay on for another 15 minutes though he threatened to lengthen this if I gave him any more attitude. We talked while I waited the 15 minutes. The whip he was searching for, the length and shape he wanted. I asked him if I could request something. He has never denied me, not really, but maybe that's the kinky bitch in me needing everything he encourages me to need. I asked him if he would clamp my clit. 'Of course!' he said 'Good Girl' (oh heavenly words). I have never asked him for anything directly. I have hinted either by action or in word, but never really asked directly for him to hurt me, *do* things to me. His enthusiastic reply made me backtrack a little. He won't allow that. Once it is said, once the desire is made explicit, the need known, he will move all obstacles to *make it so number one*.

Meanwhile...

My left nipple cried in pain.

At the fifteen minute mark to the second according to his watch, which seemed a lot slower than the clock I was watching, he told me to take the clamps off my nipples.

'Right first.'

'Ouch!

'Left.'...

I screamed..it really hurt!

Really!

All in all though, an erotic start to my day.





photographer unknown. Source: internet

fantasy of shame

First up I want to say this post is about me and my fantasy. I do not trivialise the pain of real life non-consensual rape in any way. This is an exploration of my own psyche. Part of my journey. I considered not posting it..but it is something that has been in me forever and as this is my journal..blah blah blah

I feel some sense of shame in fantasising about a rape scenario. I have known throughout my life that I have been excited by the fantasy of being overwhelmed, forced sexually. The relinquishing of sexual control is something base, something primal and is fundamental to my core. It horrifies me because at the same time I fear it as a real experience. There is a real and palpable contradiction in the need to live it and a recoil from it that is so extremely visceral in nature. It is interesting too that the picture I have attached was chosen to bring some distance between my fantasy and my fear of the act. To pull the act away from the reality of harm which is intrinsic to the act itself.

As a very young woman in my early twenties I cared for an 82 yrs old woman who had been raped by a young intruder in her home. It was beyond my capacity to understand this at the time and in truth I don't understand it now. I was appalled and heartbroken for the woman. To be harmed in this way. To be frightened by the experience. She was more circumspect. She had 60 years of experience in the world on me. She had lost her idealisations of the world and people and she was not as upset by this violation as I was upset for her. I am beginning to understand that though I have another 40 (or maybe a bit less :) ) years to fully understand. She had brought up her family, her life was mostly behind her and the importance of her control over her sexuality was not the same as it was for me in my 20's. Is that a product of my upbringing, my mother's needs instilled in me?

I think it strange and confusing the awareness that I want any act to be consensual ...so how is that rape? I'm still figuring that out! The more I consider the contradiction the more clearly I see that it comes back to control. My need to relinquish control. Wanting control to be wrested from me. I have no interest in injury caused to me during this act of sexual assertion and aggression. I have no interest in it happening to me in a random undetermined way (I won't even get into a Taxi by myself, or walk down a street in the dark!).  The thought of being overwhelmed physically, dominated by a stranger, acquaintance or friend however, stirs something in my primal femaleness that is hard to ignore.

detail - Rape of Proserpina -Gian Lorenzo Bernini,1621 - 1622 (Bernini was 23 years old! as an aside)

relinquishing control

I'm learning about control...giving it up.

I know! A basic pillar to a girl who identifies as submissive. In actual fact I have never been convinced that I am 'submissive' or at least very good at being submissive if indeed I am.

It has become apparent that the two men central to these themes are both convinced I need some work on control...giving it up!

There is so much in these sentences. Feminism might be taking it's last gasp as it slips through my fingers. Maybe not though. I go back to choice..I choose to submit (albeit not very well), fully consistent with feminism and women's 'equal' rights. Neither of these men seek to change my basic human rights through this control. Neither of them seek to change my intellect, my life outside of this sphere that would in any way disadvantage me or my family. To give up control, hand it over, MM explains that I need to simply follow and obey...sigh.

Local D says I over think things. This is not a new concept to me. I have been told this before. I over think things, I fret. I analyse everything from a multifaceted view. The answer I am told is to simply follow. The answer is to simply obey.

Local D asked me to pass a message to the distant MM. In truth this excites me, the pair of them deciding what needs to be done with the kinky lil bitch. I needed to ask MM if he would consent to this (my decision to ask him, a respect I thought for his privacy, respect I thought for his realm of control) and when he said yes I passed him the email. I wasn't clear whether I was supposed to pass email addresses. I am so terribly protective of privacy, theirs as well as mine. So without clear instruction I passed the messages not the email addresses. As I did this I realised that my bid to protect these men and their privacy was an exercise in control. My control.

I have been in control all my life, I am asked now to relinquish control and trust that all will be well, that there will be no harm done. I am having a difficult time with this. I am having difficulty with understanding the way to relinquish my control, not with the desire or need to do it.

property of photographer (unknown)

Master vs Sir

OK a problem has presented itself!
Remember  I asked can a girl serve two Masters?

Well this week the instructions are conflicting.
Sir says 'No panties all week'.
Non-Dom? He has decided to choose my panties all week!

Arrrrgh..of course non-Dom will take precedence. Is there some way Sir will accept this? Arrrrg!

confined

She was very excited as she lept on the bed, the new package all the way from England had arrived. She'd been waiting for weeks. She waited through all the delays, manufacturers and fabric suppliers. The day had finally arrived and there it was, the package on her doorstep. Now kneeling on her bed she unwrapped the package. It was heavier than she expected. she ripped back the tissue paper to reveal the first of three corsets.

It took her breath away. The deep ruby red satin fabric over-layed in in black organza. The front was beaded with tiny shiny black beads in swirls and patterns that reminded her of the burlesque beauties she had seen upon the stage. Metal clasps down the front shone silver in the light from the bedside lamp. She traced the curve of the garment with her fingers. It had taken her all day to get to her parcel. She had been busy being mum. Soccer, grocery shopping, a friends project that she was working on in her spare time...and now here was a moment for her. She turned over the restrictive undergarment wondering how on earth she was going to get it on. The fabric was substantial between her fingers, the boning was of steel and as she held the laces at the rear between her fingers for the first time she shivered with anticipation and excitement. The modesty panel at the back meant that she would not feel the lace on her skin but as she held it between her fingers she felt the heat in her begin to grow.

She stripped her clothes off  and pulled on a pair of ruffled red and black panties admiring the curve of her bottom in the mirror and now what about those cherry pumps she received the other day...hmmm yes they would do nicely. Thinking for a moment about how she would negotiate the corsetry she loosened the laces wide keeping the metal clasps locked in their position. Her nipples were hard little nubs swimming the her ample pink flesh. She had turned the oil heater on but it had not yet managed to take the evening Autumn chill off the air. She looked for a moment in the mirror, adjusting the corset and her breasts within the encasement. Reaching behind her her hand felt for the length of lace falling from her middle of her back. Taking one of the double ties in each hand she pulled until her arm were straight and out to her sides, parallel to the carpeted floor. She pulled gracefully and slowly so that she could watch the change of her waist, the curve of her hips, so that she might feel the restriction growing, so that she might feel her breath being restricted, her womanliness coming to her with the hour glass that was accentuated at her bidding and all at once she saw how beautiful she was, even with her mum hair pulled roughly back in a ponytail and wind blown by the days events.

She was still looking at her curves, tracing them with her appreciative hands when his words woke her from her self absorption.

"I think you might need a little help."

His hands slid down the curve of her corseted waist and back to the laces, from the bottom he began to tighten the lace cinching her waist even more. She was thrilled by the movement of his pull firming the constriction of the corset. He began to exert an even pressure over her torso which at once comforted her and caused her to gush with heat and moisture between her thighs. The tighter he pulled, the more he jerked on the laces, the closer she came to that edge.

Finally, when he was satisfied with the shape he had sculpted in her body he stepped back and reclining on the bed he said in a quiet voice,

"Turn around. Let me see you."

She turned, slowly so he could admire the curves of her breast waist and arse. She wanted to wear the corset always. The restriction made her feel safe, secure, free from fear, anxiety, or doubt. She was confined, her body no longer free but controlled. She was wet and he knew it.

He stood in front of her, the 5 inch heels she wore brought her eye to eye with him.

"Kneel."

He held her hand to support her descent.

She looked up to His eyes.

He placed his thumb and forefinger under her chin.

"Open."



can the delicious little whore have it all?

The girl wants her cake, and a bloody big spoon to eat it!

Let them eat Cake! she cries.

What, you might wonder, is she on about this time? As you may or may not be aware, I have come perilously close to 'playing' with a local Dom man. The stage is set, the lights are on, the audience is seated and hushed...now we wait for the action. Exciting times on the brink wondering when or even whether it will begin in earnest.

But! and here's the thing..the girl is still unsatisfied. Arrrgh! Why she wonders, is she pouting and stamping her foot! Because she still desperately wants this man, the One to be her non-Dom. She fantasises in quiet moments that she might have the luxury of two Dom men. One she loves...and one who might 'hit me, beat me, whip me, make me write bad cheques."

Can the girl have it all?

Can she have two Dom men?.. or three?..or..no now thats just being silly!

Can a dog have two Masters?

Will her non-Dom explore his fledgling Dom and exert control?

Will the new man, the experienced local Dom move to take his control?

This and more to be answered in up coming episodes of the Willing Slut, Apply Within.

photographer unknown

olives

The warmth of the fire licked her back. The remains of the shared meal and wine was on the table.  No thank you she gestured, she couldn't eat anymore, thank you.

"There," he pointed, "those olives, you will eat them."

"No thank you I am full, replete, I couldn't eat anymore."

He looked her in the eye. She met his gaze.

"You will eat those olives, we will sit here until you do."

Such a small thing, those two little olives shining wet in their oil. Sitting in the corner of her dish. Just on the corner, small and undemanding. They were happy to rest.

The heat grew between her legs as she lifted her fork. She stabbed the oil laden skin of the green olive. Lifting it t her lips the aroma of the oil filled her nostrils. Her mouth watered. One after another they went into her mouth. Her eyes never leaving his.

It had begun..with an olive, she has given herself. what was to follow?

thrill?

I met the local man today. We had a drink and lunch. You may be pleased to hear that I was very obedient and wore no panties as instructed. After an initial nervousness we were able to talk.

I still need to process things. I am a thinker, a reflector. I examined everything in the most painful detail. I have in the past been accused of thinking toooo much. huh! indignant*
I look at all the possibilities, all the potential outcomes arrrgh..just JUMP L!

At one point he reached over to me and pulled me to him...a kiss on the cheek and a whisper in the ear. I was surprised to notice I wasn't at all nervous (another man's touch), guilty (another man's touch) or feeling awkward (another man's touch). It makes all the difference having my non-Dom's permission. I didn't feel any sexual thrill at his touch either. There was no spark of tense anticipation. It just felt natural. I was a little disappointed at that, but mostly I was pleased. I felt that if there wasn't that girly thrill at a mild touch then somehow that won't threaten my relationship with my non-Dom by putting the temptation of another thrilling man in my path. But is this enough to fill the need in the girl?

The whispered words and kiss on the cheek and his hand on my neck made me feel warm and like I'd done well..(it was in response to something I had done)...the old 'good girl' feeling. This time though it was real, it was tangible, it was immediate. No LDR, no online Dom..but real. I am a needy girl for 'real'.

As I sat thinking oh n this won't work, I don't have that thrill of the physical attraction, I realised that was really not why I needed him. I need him to fill a role. A recreational activity. I admit I feel a bit mercenary about that attitude, but I also think that it may work on that level...maybe not.

Anyway these are just initial thoughts..need to think and process a bit more. Am i being mercinary, desperate? Is the thrill essential outside play? Thinking too much?

unknown photographer

the phonecall

Her phone rang, she glanced quickly at the screen, distracted from the pretty sparkly things she was looking at in the shop. She saw his name and struggling coordinate her fingers and shopping packages she dropped the phone. He was gone.


Sorry, I missed your call. Dropped the phone. She sent the text.


She didn't know him well. They had been talking online for only a short while but just long enough for her to have asked him for his number. They had talked a couple of times, awkwardly. She was so much more comfortable with the computer screen. She could say almost anything in text, she could even type that word the word that she still found difficult to say. Her tongue always let her down. Her eloquence was lost when she needed to hide her shyness.


There was no reply, no matter how hard she stared at the little screen in her hand. Feeling the disappointment deeply she sighed and went on with her shopping.


In a few minutes the phone in her pocket vibrated against her pelvic hip. Her body tingled with a visceral excitement emanating from her iliac fossa.


Take your panties off. Leave them off for the rest of the day.


She looked around for the nearest ladies room and found it straight across from where she stood. As she entered the bathroom the phone rang. She was breathless as she put it to her ear.


"Have you removed your panties?"


"I am going into the toilet cubicle now."


"Hurry up, you have kept me waiting long enough girl."


She hurried into the next available cubicle and slipped the panties down all the while describing her activity to the phone.


"Now! Put your fingers in that little wet cunt."


He could hear the gasp telling him she had penetrated herself, violated her wetness on his instruction. It had been hard work to get her here, but he knew she would be worth it. He could hear it in her breath, in the way she immediately did the things he asked. She followed instructions to the letter and he was very prescriptive. So far she had not failed him.


"Rub your clit."


She rubbed. She heard the noises of women coming and going to the cubicles either side of her. Noises echoed from the hand dryers blowing, the flushing of the toilets, heels clicking loudly on the tiles. She tried to be so quiet, even with all this noise and so many women in the bathroom she was sure she might be heard. Heard acknowledging his instructions. Heard in the little gasps and moans she tried to muffle.


"Bring yourself to the edge."


She realise that the shadow of her motion was falling under the door of the cubicle. She pushed herself futher into the back corner of the cubicle, arranging her feet so they could not be seen from the cubicles either side of hers.


"Tell me when you are going to cum."


She told him of all the people, she was concerned they knew. She could not concentrate.


"I don't care, do what you are told, do what you need girl."


She came closer still, her breath ragged, tiny beads of sweat on her face. It was hard standing up..but she came closer, so close she thought she would cum.


"Yes, I am going to cum."


"STOP!"


What!


"STOP! don't you cum. Take your fingers away. STOP!"


"Noooooo," she almost shouted into the phone.


She pulled her hand away as her eyes watered and she tried to stop everything that was wound up inside her. Everything that was throbbing. Everything that was breathless and dizzy and moaning.


"Now, go and find somewhere private, let me know when you are there."


She drove more quickly than she thought she should. She exceeded the speed limit. She needed to get home. That's where she needed to be. Home on the bed, naked,  phone in hand. Made to do whatever he wanted. Made to do what she needed.

artist unknown

look Daddy, no hands!

When Hands are out of the question, out of the equation, ther is nothing better.

Behind my back, above my head, wrists crossed, held tight in his large hand.

cuffed,

restrained,

tied,

strapped,

trussed,

fastened,

bound,

held.

Magical words ring in my mind and make me weak at the knees.

Why?

Because...

Control,

Dominance,

Mastery,

Ascendancy,

Command.

Elegant in it's simplicity, in it's clarity.

"...never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." - John Donne

user ready slut, batteries not included

We were alone, a rare opportunity presented and we decided to go out for dinner.

'Come on then' I said to P as I walked to leave the lounge room.

'Take your panties off first."

I stop in my tracks, looking back at him with a little confusion and a not inconsequential amount of excitement.

"..Or am I too late?" (he does know me and my penchant for no knickers with a frock).


"No" I smiled as I slowly lifted my dress and slid the red lace down letting it fall to my ankles. I stepped out of the panties and kept walking lifting my skirt to show him my bare bottom.
----------------------------------
Later, on our way home from the restaurant I lifted my skirt to 'sit pretty' on the car seat thinking sexy thoughts. He appreciated my bare bottom on the seat. I became hot and moist between my thighs. He could see everything in front. Tapping the dashboard he beckoned me to rest my heels up there and I threw my legs wide up on the dashboard, my vixen red toe polish reflecting in the windscreen.


It was still daylight and I was nervous someone would see my Sharon Stone moment as we drove through the suburban jungle. The relief I felt when we arrived home!..but I was very very wet. Well lubricate for any impending use. User ready...;)




unknown artist



i'm back Daddy

I am back having done as i was told.

Panties off in the bathroom of the restaurant.
I removed my black heeled shoes and my stockings, my feet bare on the cold tiled toilet floor. I slid down my panties and stepped out of them one leg at a time.

Pulling my fishnet stockings back on I was careful not to rush and tear a hole in them.
Once the stockings were straight and in place I felt the breeze fly up though the tiny diamond spaces to my bare pussy. I stepped into my shoes. I liked the click-clack sound the leather shoes made on the tiles of the toilet floor as I tried to step into them quietly and delicately avoiding anyone else in the bathroom hearing and wondering why I had removed my shoes in the restaurant toilet. Screwing my thong panties into a little ball I placed them in the palm of my hand and thrust them deep into my handbag and returned to the table where my three girlfriends sat laughing with glasses of wine raised to their lips.

I had already begun to feel my pussy throb, growing warm and moist. I had already been pretty moist in anticipation of carrying out your instruction, but now, it was almost like I was opening, stretching, in search of something to fill my aching pink flesh.
I spent the rest of the evening through the main meal and then coffee squirming in my seat with the growing heat of my bare pussy.

After dinner I was wet and tingly. My mind drifted to my pantyless state as I drove home "sitting proper" in my seat, my skirt hitched up, my bare fishnet clad pussy wetting on the seat.

I had enjoyed my task.

the note ... waiting

The following is a story from her view, taken from a framework sent to me by the wizard...


On the park bench, nervous and trembling, she wondered at what she had created for herself. Sitting, waiting as she was told, she tried desperately to concentrate on the book she had brought with her. It was after 1 pm.  Her mind raced as she caught site of her hard nipples through her filmy blouse, from the cold or the excitement of the moment she couldn't tell, maybe both.

Her mind went through the events of the previous night. She had been fucked in the most delicious way by the stranger, right there in the men's room of the romantic restaurant to which her husband had taken her.  She drank more wine than she ought have and hoped her husband had explained away the flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes from the orgasm that had waved through her minutes before, to the wine.

She kicked off her shoes as she walked into the bedroom. Her husband took hold of her wrist firmly and almost growled in her ear, 'You have been a very bad girl. Come here...lay over my lap.'

She was stunned at his assertion but she dare not ask what he meant. Did he know about her transgression? He was usually not so commanding, though sometimes she noticed something different about him, something he seemed to be holding in abeyance. She smelled the spirit on her husbands hot breath as it curled around her ear and travelled across her cheek.

She lay across him, feeling his growing hardness under her as the sting on her bottom became almost unbearable. His fingers slipped inside her, she tried not to think of the strangers cum oozing from her. Cum has a different feel between the fingers than her own juices and she hoped her husbands coarse fingers were not attuned to the difference in the sensation.

Her head slid further into that warm place where she loved to swim. The sting on her bottom seemed to lift and she didn't think anymore if the tiny red blisters that would mark her tomorrow. Her orgasm was building to an almighty roar as he thrust his thumb into her tight arsehole while his first and second digits fucked her and his little finger played roughly with her clit.

He threw her on her back and pulling her to the edge of the bed, scooped her to him as he pushed his hardness into her slick heat. Both the stranger and her husband had used her and the potent mix issued from her with each thrust from her hushand. He had made her cum more times than she can remember when he lowered his mouth to her dripping cunt. She came to his soft warm tongue treating her engorged clit to the excitement it craved.

She lay exhausted, elated, grateful and in love.

As she sat in the park, the afternoon wearing on, she thought back to when her husband had fallen asleep. She had waited. She waited to read the note that she hastily hid in her bag. The note the stranger left of the floor of the restaurant by her chair.

As she pulled the note from her bag she froze at the sound of her husband's voice behind her.

'What's is that, my pet?' he said leaning over her shoulder.

Any protestation or denial seemed futile and she handed the note to him, her eyes down cast. The realisation of her demise flowing through her. He read it aloud to her.

'Be at Viceroy Park at 1:00 pm tomorrow...Wear a see-through white top.. no bra...a skirt...no panties.  Wait for me...benches....keep waiting.  Do not look around.  Bring a book...reading.'

Her mind was swimming. Panic shot through her. She couldn't hear all the words though she tried. She searched her husbands face for his anger, his admonishment. She couldn't see straight. What had she done? She been playing with fire all these months. It started innocently enough, online, a bit of chat, a bit of flirting. The heat had grown in her now though to an unbearable pitch. She would have exploded if not to have met him, had she not done as he said, bent to his will.

'Hmmm, well well,'  the pause was excruciating,  'Do you mind if I join you?' She couldn't read his face at all, making her more anxious than she had ever been in her life.

Now on the park bench she waited. Her husband had walked her there after he supervised her readying herself. She felt the flush of embarrassment when he pulled her blouse from the hanger, the filmiest one she owned. He layed her skirt on her bed, the shortest one in her wardrobe, the one she only wore in private.  He delivered her to the bench. He pushed her to sit by her shoulders, opened her book and placed it in her hands.

"Read... and wait."

He strolled away. She dared not follow him with her gaze and when she did look up a minute later he was nowhere to be seen. She was painfully aware of her bareness under her flimsy clothes. She knew everyone wandering the park saw her, dressed as a slut, with no bra or panties. They knew she was there at the summoning of a stranger and delivered to him by her husband. She wanted to run, to hide. She did not. She could not. She waited, as she was told, her nipples hard and on display and her pussy glistening with expectation.

the note

It lay on the floor by her chair. She saw it, her husband had not. Had he dropped it there as he left the restaurant? He had left her in a frenzy. An encounter that she had not ever foreseen. She was safe she thought. Her play could never become real, he was in a far away place, with another life, in another world.


She had built her little flirtation carefully to avoid the messiness of an encounter. She was happy, for the most part with her husband. Loving him and he her. The stranger offered her a heat that she had not previously experienced. He was self assured, he demanded from her things that made her blood quicken. He made her breathless with an anticipation that encouraged physical responses in her over which she had no control. One word on the computer screen could make her wet for the entire day.

She had received a message that led her here tonight and led her to the feverish encounter in the men's bathroom. He had travelled to where she lived, business she supposed, but she never thought further than the possibility that he might summon her. That he might expect from her the things from which she thought she was immune. She knew she was powerless to refuse him and she hoped he did not know it too.

She scooped up the note and buried it in her purse. She mumble something in answer to her husbands query, "Just a receipt that must have fallen from my purse."

She looked into her husband's eyes wondering if he would question this further, after all any woman would realise that it was unlikely that she would have a shopping receipt in her evening bag. She was grateful for the low soft lighting of the restaurant. She hoped it would hide the flush in her cheeks. The tell that her husband knew well. The tell of an orgasm. The tell in her poker face.

She had been on tenterhooks. He had come to the restaurant and sat at the table in front of her. He sat facing her. She flushed and almost immediately she felt the heat build between her thighs. She wore no panties and a dress as he had asked. She felt her nipples harden as she caught the
strangers eyes falling to her legs. Could he see? Surely it was too dark. She had a compulsion to open her knees to make sure he could see. She secretly longed for him to see. She was glistening she supposed, she could feel the tingle.

He sat never taking his eyes off her. She felt the burn of his stare so keenly she could barely hear what her husband was saying to her.  Her stranger had gone to the back of the restaurant, his glance beckoned to her to follow. She rose from the table.

He propelled her forward into the men's bathroom, pushing her against the wall of an empty cubicle. He towered over her with not a word passing from his lips. She longed to hear his voice. His hand searched between her thighs. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. She felt the immediate shame that he had found how completely ready for him she was. He had found her secret.

His mouth took hers, his fingers probed her fleshy wetness, his other hand moved to her throat. She forgot her fear of being discovered. The possibility her husband might take her absence as an opportunity to visit the men's room became a distant and hazy thought. She felt the build of her orgasm and wanted so much to cum for the stranger. She wanted to be his, to be fucked in this place. She heard herself beg him to fuck her. At almost the same moment his cock forced its way into her depths. He fucked her hard as she came for him. Her cunt clenching around him as though she would never let him go. His body stiffened against her as he marked her, owning her completely.

She collapsed into him momentarily before he left her. Standing alone, dizzy, dripping with his cum in the men's room. A sudden realisation that she would be seen as she came out made her hastily clean herself, but not so much as to wipe him away entirely. She saw the flush in her face reflected in the mirror and tried to steady her breath. She passed through the door and caught the surprised look of another stranger entering, almost bumping into him as she hurried to get out of the bathroom. He knew too..she knew he knew...it was written all over her face, she smelled of the strangers sex. She blushed with embarrassment.

Now all she could think about was the small piece of paper in her evening bag. Her husbands words were distant.

Did he know too?

permission

It's a week of surprise and a little bit of wonder.



Gil Elvgren 1956 - no you don't!

I surprised myself today and my husband. I asked him, actually asked him if I could go to the shops tomorrow!

"Which shops?"

"To the pretty lacy frilly things shops to look at a bra and panties"

"Yes you can go,"  pausing for a moment, "Why are you asking me?" he said gently.

My eyes dropped to the floor, I didn't really know, I had never asked for permission before. I had sought his approval, but out of consideration, to make sure I wasn't causing inconvenience the family. I had never expected that I might not be able to do something. There had never been an understanding that he could deny me something...anything. There is not an explicit understanding of that nature now. This time I was asking permission. It was liberating. I feel no guilt leaving the family on a family day because he has given me permission to do so. He has taken that responsibility from me.

I thought for a moment.

"Well you might have had something planned, you might want me with you and...*hesitating*... I wanted to ask your permission."

He smiled softly "That was very considerate, it has pleased me enormously. Yes you may go to the shops tomorrow."



sex and the sequoias



Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

 A bright sunny day, it was going to be hot. An early bicycle ride in the national park. We rode for kilometres to the edge of the park.

At the cherry plantation planted earlier last century we got off our bikes and began to walk.

There was an inviting and shaded path reaching up further into the bush. Looking at each other silently we decided to follow it. We had no water, no gear other than a backpack with and camera and keys.

He walked behind me, propelling me firmly forward.

"That bare neck, just wanting to be held, to be directed." He placed his hand firmly on the nape of my sweaty neck and gripped the tresses of blond curls as they fell soft and wet with perspiration. He guided me along the path through the bush until we came to a clearing surround by an avenue of trees. Sequoias, tall and strong making the clearing cool.

I listened to the sounds of birds near and distant, the wind through the trees, the leaves slapping against each other..not a rumble of even distant traffic. 

He pulled me too him. His hand on the nape of my neck pressing me into him. His other hand slid to my breast and through my light cotton top pressed squeezed and kneaded it causing not an insignificant amount of pain. I took a breath quickly as he drew my mouth into his, his tongue probing inside my mouth. I melted, tingling, my pussy responding with little explosions of delight.

He guided me further down to the far end of the clearing, to a post and wire fence that sliced through the bush, heralding the end of the national park. Beyond was virgin bush.

From behind me his hand reached around my throat, fingers stretching to probe my mouth, his other hand slid down my pants and into my panties finding my clit already wet from the heat that flowed from my excited pussy. His lips touched the edge of my ear and his hot breath made me tremble as he spoke those words, "You are my little slut, my hot little whore aren't you?" 

I nodded while my eyes tried to fight rolling back in my head, darting around the bush instead. Was anyone watching? We were in such a public place. We wouldn't see anyone until they were on top of us the bush was so thick here. 

His low growl reverberated in my ear as he pulled my pants and panties down in one sure move.

"Get on your knees".

My eyes flew to his. Was he kidding? Was this real? What has got into him?

"On your knees now". 

Without further hesitation I dropped to my knees as he pulled his hard hot throbbing cock from his pants and guided it forcefully into my mouth. He fucked my mouth while I forgot myself, my trepidation falling away. My nervousness about getting caught seemed swallowed up as his pre-cum mixed with my saliva and oozed from the corners of my mouth and dripped from my chin.

He pulled out of my throat, spun me around and bent me over on hands and knees. Kneeling behind me, he thrust my knees apart with his to receive his cock all the way to the hilt in one forceful movement. He pulled my hair while fucked and thrust and reamed me hard. His strong fingers dug into my flesh, squeezing and twisting it until I yelped with the pain.

He groaned his pleasure as he came inside me. 

"Good girl...pull your pants up and feel my cum on your thighs".

He led me out of the clearing as I wiped the pre-cum from my face and mouth and felt his cum dripping down my thighs.

He was finding his way and leading me behind him.

he leads

The time: tonight after dinner

via lovedandled

The place: the wine bar

The happening: I sat on the couch and he asked if I was ready to go. The wine had diluted my stress, I felt floaty and didn't care when or where we went...

him: I should get you home.

me: *absent minded* mmmhmmm

him: rising to his feet.

me: distracted, beginning to watch and take notice of a lovely music video on the wall...remained sitting.

him: get up now please ...a stern and I mean it tone and manner.

I flashed a quizzical look at him, surprised and sizing up his meaning..he meant it, he didn't smile, he didn't feel silly, no evidence of that..

I felt my body respond, tremble, my nipples react, my pussy clench...

I picked up my bag and rose to my feet never removing my gaze from his eyes. He took my hand and led me away.

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

musings on my direction

The more I read about D/s relationships the more confusing it is for me. I wonder at how I got here, never before online, never having followed my desire. All the reading causes me anxiety, I doubt myself and whether I can follow the path ahead of me.

So I think about what led me here, the answer...my husband. Certainly for years I lived in fantasy, but other than playing the fantasies of being controlled in some way in my mind, I didn't pay too much attention too them. I didn't think I had a burning desire to have those fantasies fulfilled. I was aware though, that I had a heightened sense of enjoyment with some little things. I would get more excited when my husband held me by my wrists during sex. I felt wet, hot and excited when he bent me over and took control, when I relinquished control to him. So I have always been aware of the desire in me but never thought to follow it, to let it blossom until relatively recently.

Last year I discovered my husband had been unfaithful to me with several women. This had not been part of our initial agreement, instead favouring the traditional approach to relationships, that of monogamy and fidelity. Perhaps pie in the sky, but not something that has been untested over the centuries..or so we are led to believe. His infidelity was the result of a very difficult time in our lives where unexpected challenges had distanced us. We weren't having sex and I was trying everything I could to avoid it. Treatment for cancer had left me physically limited. It became uncomfortable and painful to have sex and as I became more and more reticent, I became less able. Radiotherapy had done its worst and I was taking care of the rest. So my husband went elsewhere.

The emotional pain of this revelation cut me to my core and left me shattered. I was in pieces, but it was the rebuilding of my woman that has led me here, to the point where I have a better than ever sex life with my husband exploring all the hidden desires in me and a few that had lain undiscovered in him. I have also connected and communicated with several men online, each of whom bring different things to me, things which I discovered I can't do without and in fact don't want to do without. Each of these men are as dear and important to me equally and though I think it quite strange that I can feel this way about people I have not met or shared any real day to day experience with, there it is. Though I would never admit it to my husband, I'm not ready to be able to let him know he has done me a favour, he has pushed me into the light and woken in me something that has always been there but that I was unable to recognise and follow.

I started chatting, explicitly sexual chat, where I explored all facets of me, of my desire and the desires inside male sexuality. I discovered that I love and adore men and their sexuality. Years of feminist rhetoric have taken their toll on me. I grew in an era where women asserted themselves, they ran the gauntlet of male domination in the workplace and at home and terms such as 'breaking the glass ceiling' while Germain Greer shouted about 'the female eunuch' and told us we could have it all! Well 'ladies'..we can't have it all..not all at the same time! I am not saying feminism didn't and doesn't have its place in our world, but I think some women took it to extremes of black and white, thinking the only way to assert our feminist selves was to emasculate men. This was a powerful narrative for girls like myself growing in the late seventies and emerging as young strong women into the mid-1980's. Maybe I am just too dim to have seen the light, pardon the pun, but I am gobsmacked that it has taken me most of my 45 yrs to run screaming into the light and engage with the hidden joys of maleness, of male sexuality and how much I love it with every fibre of my womanly being. With this discovery begs the question of forgiveness of my husbands decision to move toward infidelity..but that's another discussion and I am very happy to put it aside for now!

During this year of discovery and of a very painful road with my husband, a road that remains in doubt about its direction, certainly on the path it took before, I have been made aware of a desire in me to give myself over to another's control. I don't know where this will lead or where it will end. I doubt my resolve, more often than not, to be able to follow this through to its conclusion, complete devotional submission. I am troubled and anxious with the language. I am at the very early stages of a path that leads to words like ownership, service and submit. These are words that make me pick up sticks and run, hard and fast. The dichotomy is that these words also excite me, my breath becomes shallow and my pulse races when I think about them, read about them and talk about them. I am aware however i will never be here again, at this threshhold of newness, innocence and excitment. I move quietly among the blog writings and musings in admiration and awe. I yearn to have the same. Relationships that appear to bring such contentment to the writer. I want all this and I want my husband too, but like I said he doesn't know about this page and in that there is a sense of freedom of expression here. It is not intended that my husband be included as a central theme here in the future of this journal, but today, simply by way of explanation of my journey to the beginning of my yellow brick road, he is present.

It would almost be better if i didn't read the blogs in here, particularly around D/s and submission, it is almost like putting the cart before the horse...and the future is a big and scary place, filled with the unknown. I am usually very brave in navigating the future..but in this I am a little girl, wanting to move forward but feeling the need for constant reassurance and encouragement to put one step in front of the other! I have begun conversations with one man in particular who is patient with my anxiety, an anxiety borne of a fear of the unknown. He takes my hand and leads me through with kindness, patience and firmness. When I am fearful he wraps me in reassurance and waits. I know he will be rewarded for this, I think he is the One.