This is a little something I wrote on FetLife.
I've been reading. Yes, that happens, but what I want to write about is this: My 'Naked' Truth. It's about a mature woman who gets turned down by a potential lover because she's "too wrinkly". And why do I want to write about this? Because it resonated with me.
I've been unsure about my appearance for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I can't remember a moment I felt beautiful, ever. Until I met my love, who showed me how beautiful I was to him. All was well with me and the world, and I basked in his love.
Unfortunately, we don't live in fairy tales and our Happily Ever After, wasn't. And here is where that article comes in.
I truly believed that whenever I'd start dating, seeing other men, they would react like that Dave. I was convinced they'd judge me as being too old, too flabby, too wrinkly, too plain. I anticipated looks of disappointment and downright disgust. I never saw anything of the kind. Now, granted, I haven't started dating yet, but I have played, I've been undressed with men, they have seen me, and I saw them looking at me. I saw no disappointment, no disgust. What I did see was excitement, pleasure, looks of concentration, amusement at my reactions, people having fun. And that when my play partners all have been younger than me.
It definitely helps me feeling good about myself, and slightly silly about my apprehensions.
So tell me, how come it’s all been so nice for me?
Is it that kinksters care less about appearances than vanilla’s? Do they look for/at different things? Have I just been very lucky? Is that Dave the exception and are most men nicer than he is? Am I more attractive than I give myself credit for? OK, if you never met me, you don’t have to try to answer that last question.
I do feel better about the prospect of dating ever again though. Thank you gentlemen (you know who you are).
Tuesday, 29 July 2014
Crime and Punishment
No, nothing to do with the legal system, but I was in trouble.
Remember my post about Andrew and orgasm control? That is hot! Listening to him on the phone, me begging him for release, him telling me to cum for him, my body reacting to his voice: that is great, I love it. But then there's also the orgasm denial, where he will tell me I'm not allowed to cum and where no amount of begging or pleading will make him change his mind. I do not love that part, I can tell you.
But of course orgasm denial was part of the deal as well. And not only was I not allowed to cum, we also chatted about that daily, with me pleading and Andrew making me tell him how hard it was for me and what I felt. He also told me that I would be punished, if I dared cum without permission. Yes, he was setting me up for failure, I knew that at the time. He is seeing how far he can push me and what I am prepared to take from him. But I was coping: not happy, but coping.
This had been going on for what, a week? And then, one day, I was chatting with Luke and told him. Of course he was amused, he would be! And to "help" me, he pointed me to some porn he thought I'd like. Mind you, I was already thoroughly frustrated by this time, I didn't dare touch myself because that would surely set me off, and Luke made sure I got worked up even more. But when I went to bed I was still in control.
That night I woke up because I was orgasming. Yep, you read that right, I woke up because I was cumming. You know, there was that very vivid dream, I came, and I woke up. And when I did wake up, was I touching myself? Was I masturbating? No, not at all. I had been behaving so beautifully, and all for nothing. If only I hadn't woken up, but I had.
In the morning I texted Andrew, confessing what had happened. He told me to contact Luke, to ask him to punish me. Yes, that's right, he had me ask for it. And I did.
It took some time to get it sorted, since Luke was quite busy. In fact, it was several weeks before I was punished. As you can imagine, my nerves were playing up. Even though Luke had said it would be funishment, not punishment, because my offence was unintentional, it would be painful. The only difference would be in the mindset. And of course, Luke is into giving pain.
Painful it was, terrible, glorious, awesome, awful, wonderful. There was more pain than I ever thought I could deal with, but I took it, all of it. I never soared higher than after that session, and my high lasted for days. During the session I wasn't thinking of Luke, but of Andrew, and the pictures I posted of my markings were for Andrew, not for Luke or me.
At some point Luke called Andrew my Dom, and I wanted to say: "No, he is not my Dom," but I couldn't get those words out, because I suddenly realised that, yes, he is my Dom now. That is how I call him, and I call myself his sub. Just like that.
Remember my post about Andrew and orgasm control? That is hot! Listening to him on the phone, me begging him for release, him telling me to cum for him, my body reacting to his voice: that is great, I love it. But then there's also the orgasm denial, where he will tell me I'm not allowed to cum and where no amount of begging or pleading will make him change his mind. I do not love that part, I can tell you.
But of course orgasm denial was part of the deal as well. And not only was I not allowed to cum, we also chatted about that daily, with me pleading and Andrew making me tell him how hard it was for me and what I felt. He also told me that I would be punished, if I dared cum without permission. Yes, he was setting me up for failure, I knew that at the time. He is seeing how far he can push me and what I am prepared to take from him. But I was coping: not happy, but coping.
This had been going on for what, a week? And then, one day, I was chatting with Luke and told him. Of course he was amused, he would be! And to "help" me, he pointed me to some porn he thought I'd like. Mind you, I was already thoroughly frustrated by this time, I didn't dare touch myself because that would surely set me off, and Luke made sure I got worked up even more. But when I went to bed I was still in control.
That night I woke up because I was orgasming. Yep, you read that right, I woke up because I was cumming. You know, there was that very vivid dream, I came, and I woke up. And when I did wake up, was I touching myself? Was I masturbating? No, not at all. I had been behaving so beautifully, and all for nothing. If only I hadn't woken up, but I had.
In the morning I texted Andrew, confessing what had happened. He told me to contact Luke, to ask him to punish me. Yes, that's right, he had me ask for it. And I did.
It took some time to get it sorted, since Luke was quite busy. In fact, it was several weeks before I was punished. As you can imagine, my nerves were playing up. Even though Luke had said it would be funishment, not punishment, because my offence was unintentional, it would be painful. The only difference would be in the mindset. And of course, Luke is into giving pain.
Painful it was, terrible, glorious, awesome, awful, wonderful. There was more pain than I ever thought I could deal with, but I took it, all of it. I never soared higher than after that session, and my high lasted for days. During the session I wasn't thinking of Luke, but of Andrew, and the pictures I posted of my markings were for Andrew, not for Luke or me.
At some point Luke called Andrew my Dom, and I wanted to say: "No, he is not my Dom," but I couldn't get those words out, because I suddenly realised that, yes, he is my Dom now. That is how I call him, and I call myself his sub. Just like that.
Judgement
Judgement, being judged, weighed and found wanting. I've felt judged all my life, and yes, I always felt wanting.
I never felt I was a good enough daughter, sister, student, employee, wife, mother, aunt, friend: you name it. And some people came out and said those things to me. Sometimes I could laugh about it, other times it hurt me. People telling me I was a bad wife for not using my husband's last name? That was worth a chuckle at most. People telling me I was a bad mother for not being a SAHM? That hurt.
At some point you find out that you can't please everybody anyway, and it gets a bit easier, hopefully.
When I was young, there was no such thing as the pill, and it wasn't freely available until the time I started university. Up until that time, being engaged in sex meant having a large probability of a pregnancy. And since it's the girl that gets pregnant, and not the boy, it was on her to behave correctly. That was the message all of our society let me know. Sex was only for married couples, it led to babies, and unmarried girls who had sex were sluts and not very smart. Or as my father would say: "She is a nice enough girl, but I don't want her as the mother of my children." Oh, the irony. Men can have fun with girls like that and still be good enough to become a father, but the girl isn't good enough to be a mother.
But yeah, the pill and penicillin meant I could have sex without worrying about pregnancies or STD's, and I did, and I loved it! And I felt guilty for loving it without even being married, and learned to love it even more.
I met my loved one, we clicked, sexually as well, and were happy. He loved that I was enthusiastic about sex, until he didn't any more.
He changed the rules. And I scrambled to find out what the new rules were. I asked him: got no answer, started to improvise: no success, suggested therapy: big failure. I wanted this to work so bad, I loved him so much, I needed him so.
I felt judged as I never had before. When I saw him looking at me, I thought I heard him think: "Too old, too fat, too eager." And still I wanted to work it out, and still I was met only by silence and denial, no matter how much I asked, begged, cried or, yes, screamed.
So I ended it. I had no options left: either I ended it or I would be miserable for ever. Enough was enough.
So growing up I learned to never be promiscuous, in my marriage I learned that wanting sex too much was wrong: is it any wonder that I don't like being called a slut? That word has so many negative connotations for me.
Only I now do behave like what I would call a slut, and I'm embarrassed about it. This isn't me! I never did this, this is wrong, I must stop. But I don't want to stop, and I'm not hurting anyone, and I would not judge others who behave like this, but I do judge myself. And I find myself wanting. Always harder on myself than on others.
In the meantime the two guys I'm involved with call me a slut, and like me for it. They want me to feel proud to be a slut. I want to feel proud as well, but it's so hard. A life time of conditioning can't be swept away in weeks or even months.
I'm working on it.
I never felt I was a good enough daughter, sister, student, employee, wife, mother, aunt, friend: you name it. And some people came out and said those things to me. Sometimes I could laugh about it, other times it hurt me. People telling me I was a bad wife for not using my husband's last name? That was worth a chuckle at most. People telling me I was a bad mother for not being a SAHM? That hurt.
At some point you find out that you can't please everybody anyway, and it gets a bit easier, hopefully.
When I was young, there was no such thing as the pill, and it wasn't freely available until the time I started university. Up until that time, being engaged in sex meant having a large probability of a pregnancy. And since it's the girl that gets pregnant, and not the boy, it was on her to behave correctly. That was the message all of our society let me know. Sex was only for married couples, it led to babies, and unmarried girls who had sex were sluts and not very smart. Or as my father would say: "She is a nice enough girl, but I don't want her as the mother of my children." Oh, the irony. Men can have fun with girls like that and still be good enough to become a father, but the girl isn't good enough to be a mother.
But yeah, the pill and penicillin meant I could have sex without worrying about pregnancies or STD's, and I did, and I loved it! And I felt guilty for loving it without even being married, and learned to love it even more.
I met my loved one, we clicked, sexually as well, and were happy. He loved that I was enthusiastic about sex, until he didn't any more.
He changed the rules. And I scrambled to find out what the new rules were. I asked him: got no answer, started to improvise: no success, suggested therapy: big failure. I wanted this to work so bad, I loved him so much, I needed him so.
I felt judged as I never had before. When I saw him looking at me, I thought I heard him think: "Too old, too fat, too eager." And still I wanted to work it out, and still I was met only by silence and denial, no matter how much I asked, begged, cried or, yes, screamed.
So I ended it. I had no options left: either I ended it or I would be miserable for ever. Enough was enough.
So growing up I learned to never be promiscuous, in my marriage I learned that wanting sex too much was wrong: is it any wonder that I don't like being called a slut? That word has so many negative connotations for me.
Only I now do behave like what I would call a slut, and I'm embarrassed about it. This isn't me! I never did this, this is wrong, I must stop. But I don't want to stop, and I'm not hurting anyone, and I would not judge others who behave like this, but I do judge myself. And I find myself wanting. Always harder on myself than on others.
In the meantime the two guys I'm involved with call me a slut, and like me for it. They want me to feel proud to be a slut. I want to feel proud as well, but it's so hard. A life time of conditioning can't be swept away in weeks or even months.
I'm working on it.
Thursday, 19 June 2014
New games, additional play partner
Yesterday I wrote my first post about Andrew, and I told him about it through a message. When he was on-line later, he read it and we talked about it.
We also talked about Luke: Andrew likes the fact that Luke's so much younger than I am (Andrew and I are about the same age), and he believes it's further prove of my sluttiness. I think he also enjoys I'm slightly embarrassed about the age difference.
At some point, I forget why, he says that he'll have Luke beat my ass and tits black and blue if I don't change my attitude. I answered him that Luke does that anyway, so he asks me if Luke also beats and bruises my pussy. When I say no, he threatens to have Luke do just that. I found it very funny. After all: they're nowhere near, don't know each other, and I have done nothing, ever, to deserve this. I love guys with a good sense of humour!
More chatting, more him calling me slut, me telling him it turns me on and that I'm about to cum. So he tells me I need his permission to cum. OK, orgasm control and denial: when, where and how did I agree to that? Never, nowhere, no way, is the answer. But if he likes it, why not play along? So I do. And let's be honest: I knew that we were going in this direction anyway, so it wasn't a surprise, really.
We stop chatting when the family comes home and I need to take care of dinner.
After dinner it's game night again, so before I leave I text Andrew, to let him know I'll send another text when I get home again. I immediately get told off, because I hadn't included a "respectful Sir", so I resend my first text, adding Sir.
I go to the game night, we play, Luke drops me off again and in the car we chat. I tell him about Andrew threatening to have Luke beat me, Luke laughs, I laugh, all good. He then starts a cautionary tale about on-line Doms who pray on naive subs. Isn't it wonderful how he looks out for me? I don't think it is that he doesn't trust Andrew, but he does think I'm too trusting.
We got home, Luke torments my nipple for a bit, I go in and text Andrew. I then go upstairs, very horny still. While I get ready for bed we text.
Andrew wants to know if I saw Luke that night and what we talked about. I tell him we were talking about him beating me on Andrew's orders and how that amused Luke. I also said that Luke worries about me.
Andrew likes that Luke's near enough to me to tend to my physical and mental needs, which I think is a very sweet thing to say.
I ask him if I'm also on orgasm denial when Luke wants to fuck me, and he tells me no. Luke can fuck me whenever he wants, but I'm not to ask for it. Since this is our dynamic anyway, there's no problem here. There would have been a problem had the answer been different, because I can't/won't just change things between Luke and me on Andrew's orders.
And all the while my need for release keeps growing. By the time he finally calls me, I'm just about ready to climb the walls.
Not that he's in a hurry, oh no. He just keeps on teasing me. He orders me to touch myself, wants to know how wet I am, listens to me moan and keeps denying me. I beg him, I call myself his slut, I offer myself to him again and again, and he still won't let me come. I tried to not be too loud, so I could still hear his voice, and got told off that I didn't moan any more. It was hell, it was heaven, it was so frustrating. I have no idea how long it took, or how much I begged him, until he finally started to count down and I came. I came hard, and long, shuddering, sweating, moaning, again and again.
Next time I need to make sure I have a glass of water waiting: all that moaning and begging gives me a dry mouth.
Afterwards Andrew told me to ask Luke to contact him. I did so this morning.
I so want to know what they'll be discussing, but I'll have to wait and find out in due time. After all, even though the talk will be about me, all decisions will be theirs, not mine. But I'm willing to bet that there will be talk about Luke punishing me in Andrew's name, and I don't know what I think about that yet.
We also talked about Luke: Andrew likes the fact that Luke's so much younger than I am (Andrew and I are about the same age), and he believes it's further prove of my sluttiness. I think he also enjoys I'm slightly embarrassed about the age difference.
At some point, I forget why, he says that he'll have Luke beat my ass and tits black and blue if I don't change my attitude. I answered him that Luke does that anyway, so he asks me if Luke also beats and bruises my pussy. When I say no, he threatens to have Luke do just that. I found it very funny. After all: they're nowhere near, don't know each other, and I have done nothing, ever, to deserve this. I love guys with a good sense of humour!
More chatting, more him calling me slut, me telling him it turns me on and that I'm about to cum. So he tells me I need his permission to cum. OK, orgasm control and denial: when, where and how did I agree to that? Never, nowhere, no way, is the answer. But if he likes it, why not play along? So I do. And let's be honest: I knew that we were going in this direction anyway, so it wasn't a surprise, really.
We stop chatting when the family comes home and I need to take care of dinner.
After dinner it's game night again, so before I leave I text Andrew, to let him know I'll send another text when I get home again. I immediately get told off, because I hadn't included a "respectful Sir", so I resend my first text, adding Sir.
I go to the game night, we play, Luke drops me off again and in the car we chat. I tell him about Andrew threatening to have Luke beat me, Luke laughs, I laugh, all good. He then starts a cautionary tale about on-line Doms who pray on naive subs. Isn't it wonderful how he looks out for me? I don't think it is that he doesn't trust Andrew, but he does think I'm too trusting.
We got home, Luke torments my nipple for a bit, I go in and text Andrew. I then go upstairs, very horny still. While I get ready for bed we text.
Andrew wants to know if I saw Luke that night and what we talked about. I tell him we were talking about him beating me on Andrew's orders and how that amused Luke. I also said that Luke worries about me.
Andrew likes that Luke's near enough to me to tend to my physical and mental needs, which I think is a very sweet thing to say.
I ask him if I'm also on orgasm denial when Luke wants to fuck me, and he tells me no. Luke can fuck me whenever he wants, but I'm not to ask for it. Since this is our dynamic anyway, there's no problem here. There would have been a problem had the answer been different, because I can't/won't just change things between Luke and me on Andrew's orders.
And all the while my need for release keeps growing. By the time he finally calls me, I'm just about ready to climb the walls.
Not that he's in a hurry, oh no. He just keeps on teasing me. He orders me to touch myself, wants to know how wet I am, listens to me moan and keeps denying me. I beg him, I call myself his slut, I offer myself to him again and again, and he still won't let me come. I tried to not be too loud, so I could still hear his voice, and got told off that I didn't moan any more. It was hell, it was heaven, it was so frustrating. I have no idea how long it took, or how much I begged him, until he finally started to count down and I came. I came hard, and long, shuddering, sweating, moaning, again and again.
Next time I need to make sure I have a glass of water waiting: all that moaning and begging gives me a dry mouth.
Afterwards Andrew told me to ask Luke to contact him. I did so this morning.
I so want to know what they'll be discussing, but I'll have to wait and find out in due time. After all, even though the talk will be about me, all decisions will be theirs, not mine. But I'm willing to bet that there will be talk about Luke punishing me in Andrew's name, and I don't know what I think about that yet.
The games sadists play
So, let's talk some more about Luke.
Luke is a self-professed sadist, and I'm not contradicting that, at all. We have played a couple of times, and it's all about and for him: he wants to hurt me and see the evidence. He marks me and laughs at me as I cry, and then he marks me some more. He just loves to see me cry, which I do every time.
And yet, when I'm dancing to cope with the pain, when I need a breather, he's there: he holds me, hugs me, rubs the sore spots, helps me through it, encourages me to go on, and starts hitting me again. He also tells me to curse and shout, to do whatever helps me cope. So I shout "Fuck!" a lot, and sometimes I tell him how he's not a nice guy, he grins and carries on, happy he's got to me.
Afterwards he fucks me. We don't make love, we don't have sex: he fucks me, and since he prefers anal, it's never in my vagina. He tells me the lube is just to prevent the condom breaking, and not for me, he doesn't care whether or not it hurts me. He stops when he cums, I never cum, but then it's about him, not about me. And I don't care! I love every moment of it, I crave it as much as he does, I want it, and I don't need an orgasm, all I need is the feeling of being taken, and I love feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks as I cry out. The orgasms come later, usually when I'm sitting behind the computer, thinking back, nursing my new bruises. Then I cum, without even touching myself: one, two, three times.
He used a riding crop on my breasts the other day. A couple of days later, while I was still black and blue and hurting, he was giving me a lift to friends for a game night. In the car he pinched and twisted my nipples so hard I came up from the seat, fighting to cope with the pain. And when we arrived, before we got out, he did it again. Now there were tears of pain, so I needed a couple of minutes before I could get out of the car. When we were inside, he bumped me a couple of times, when nobody saw it, just to try and get a reaction out of me.
Last night, at the end of our game night, he gave me a lift home as always. He asked me about my breasts, I told him they were almost back to normal, apart from some bruising around my nipple, he said: "Gross!" That didn't stop him pinching and twisting some more before I got out of the car though. I held onto him, moaning, almost screaming, fighting not to bite him. He laughed.
We message back and forth in FetLife. We talk about our day, the games we play together in public, the games we play in private, other people: we talk about whatever comes up. And while we're talking, there are the questions he sneaks in. Questions that have made me agree to only getting anal sex from him, and to have him fuck me anytime he wants, and not because I want it (as well). Essentially, we're going down the route to CNC (Consensual Non-Consensuality: A mutual agreement that within defined limits, or subject to a safe word or other restrictions, and to common sense, consent to activities is given without foreknowledge of the exact actions planned), so I don't have any input into what happens or when, I can't refuse, all I can do is safe word.
This is terrifying and hot and an exercise in trust.
He asked me: "Do you give me permission to take what I want?"
And I answered him: "Damn, you always sneak in these kind of questions. In a way, I think I already have done that: I don't think I've ever told you No. I guess what it comes down to now is: do I trust you enough to believe you won't go too far, that you will stop when I need you to, that you will take care of me even when it seems to be all about you? Then the answer must be: Yes."
Luke is a self-professed sadist, and I'm not contradicting that, at all. We have played a couple of times, and it's all about and for him: he wants to hurt me and see the evidence. He marks me and laughs at me as I cry, and then he marks me some more. He just loves to see me cry, which I do every time.
And yet, when I'm dancing to cope with the pain, when I need a breather, he's there: he holds me, hugs me, rubs the sore spots, helps me through it, encourages me to go on, and starts hitting me again. He also tells me to curse and shout, to do whatever helps me cope. So I shout "Fuck!" a lot, and sometimes I tell him how he's not a nice guy, he grins and carries on, happy he's got to me.
Afterwards he fucks me. We don't make love, we don't have sex: he fucks me, and since he prefers anal, it's never in my vagina. He tells me the lube is just to prevent the condom breaking, and not for me, he doesn't care whether or not it hurts me. He stops when he cums, I never cum, but then it's about him, not about me. And I don't care! I love every moment of it, I crave it as much as he does, I want it, and I don't need an orgasm, all I need is the feeling of being taken, and I love feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks as I cry out. The orgasms come later, usually when I'm sitting behind the computer, thinking back, nursing my new bruises. Then I cum, without even touching myself: one, two, three times.
He used a riding crop on my breasts the other day. A couple of days later, while I was still black and blue and hurting, he was giving me a lift to friends for a game night. In the car he pinched and twisted my nipples so hard I came up from the seat, fighting to cope with the pain. And when we arrived, before we got out, he did it again. Now there were tears of pain, so I needed a couple of minutes before I could get out of the car. When we were inside, he bumped me a couple of times, when nobody saw it, just to try and get a reaction out of me.
Last night, at the end of our game night, he gave me a lift home as always. He asked me about my breasts, I told him they were almost back to normal, apart from some bruising around my nipple, he said: "Gross!" That didn't stop him pinching and twisting some more before I got out of the car though. I held onto him, moaning, almost screaming, fighting not to bite him. He laughed.
We message back and forth in FetLife. We talk about our day, the games we play together in public, the games we play in private, other people: we talk about whatever comes up. And while we're talking, there are the questions he sneaks in. Questions that have made me agree to only getting anal sex from him, and to have him fuck me anytime he wants, and not because I want it (as well). Essentially, we're going down the route to CNC (Consensual Non-Consensuality: A mutual agreement that within defined limits, or subject to a safe word or other restrictions, and to common sense, consent to activities is given without foreknowledge of the exact actions planned), so I don't have any input into what happens or when, I can't refuse, all I can do is safe word.
This is terrifying and hot and an exercise in trust.
He asked me: "Do you give me permission to take what I want?"
And I answered him: "Damn, you always sneak in these kind of questions. In a way, I think I already have done that: I don't think I've ever told you No. I guess what it comes down to now is: do I trust you enough to believe you won't go too far, that you will stop when I need you to, that you will take care of me even when it seems to be all about you? Then the answer must be: Yes."
And there we are, I've given him permission.
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
I used to be a nice girl!
Once upon a time I used to follow the rules, be well behaved, do as I was expected to, be friendly, polite, helpful, loving, accommodating, put the need of others above my own, conform: I used to be a nice girl! Used to be.
Yes, I know, people don't really change, and I haven't really changed either, but I have turned into a slut.
As I type this, it makes me laugh, and it makes me blush as well. I never saw myself as a slut, I've been a serial monogamist all my life, I was faithful to my husband and sex was always private.
So what happened? It's not just that I've started exploring my kink, after all sex wasn't originally a part of it, but my boundaries are definitely shifting.
About a week ago, 2 men messaged me on FetLife, concerning things I'd posted. 2 different men, talking about 2 different posts, nothing weird about it. Neither gave me creep vibes, they both are intelligent, funny and like SF, so all made of win, and after some messaging back and forth I added them as friends. The person from the States is someone I'm just friendly with, we chat a bit every now and then and that's about it. The person from New Zealand on the other hand ... A name, I need a name for him: Andrew will do.
Andrew commented on some pictures I'd posted. We're talking boobs here, red, black and blue from a riding crop (ouch!). People seem to like those pictures, I got a lot of *likes*. Anyway, Andrew made very clear he'd love to get his hands (amongst other things) on my breasts, and buttocks, and indeed the rest of me. So what do I do? I retreated, after telling him off blushingly. Yeah, as if: I started flirting back.
I got invited to a play party, but it was very short notice and also a considerable distance from here, so I had to decline. Now I was thinking "What's the hurry here?", but I still get no creep vibes and I don't believe he wants me to come over because he can't get any other play partners. On the contrary, it feels like he can get all the action he wants and then some, and for some reason he's very interested in me.
So you all want to know about the slutty part?
Within days we had cyber sex. In a week after meeting on-line we had phone sex. We Skyped, just to see each others face. We're planning to meet and play in RL fairly soon. We know each others' real name and relationship status.
There has been no talk about exclusivity, but there are thoughts about ramping it all up a bit. Andrew is a Dom when he's talking with me, and he's interested in finding out what happens if I submit to him. (What is it with me and Doms? Do I attract them, or are they just likely to contact me?) All this and his first message to me was only 10 days ago.
And do you know what makes me feel even sluttier?
Not only do Luke and Andrew know about each other, they encourage me as well. I tell them what's happening and I often chat to both of them at once. And more than that: I don't feel ashamed about it!
Yes, I know, people don't really change, and I haven't really changed either, but I have turned into a slut.
As I type this, it makes me laugh, and it makes me blush as well. I never saw myself as a slut, I've been a serial monogamist all my life, I was faithful to my husband and sex was always private.
So what happened? It's not just that I've started exploring my kink, after all sex wasn't originally a part of it, but my boundaries are definitely shifting.
About a week ago, 2 men messaged me on FetLife, concerning things I'd posted. 2 different men, talking about 2 different posts, nothing weird about it. Neither gave me creep vibes, they both are intelligent, funny and like SF, so all made of win, and after some messaging back and forth I added them as friends. The person from the States is someone I'm just friendly with, we chat a bit every now and then and that's about it. The person from New Zealand on the other hand ... A name, I need a name for him: Andrew will do.
Andrew commented on some pictures I'd posted. We're talking boobs here, red, black and blue from a riding crop (ouch!). People seem to like those pictures, I got a lot of *likes*. Anyway, Andrew made very clear he'd love to get his hands (amongst other things) on my breasts, and buttocks, and indeed the rest of me. So what do I do? I retreated, after telling him off blushingly. Yeah, as if: I started flirting back.
I got invited to a play party, but it was very short notice and also a considerable distance from here, so I had to decline. Now I was thinking "What's the hurry here?", but I still get no creep vibes and I don't believe he wants me to come over because he can't get any other play partners. On the contrary, it feels like he can get all the action he wants and then some, and for some reason he's very interested in me.
So you all want to know about the slutty part?
Within days we had cyber sex. In a week after meeting on-line we had phone sex. We Skyped, just to see each others face. We're planning to meet and play in RL fairly soon. We know each others' real name and relationship status.
There has been no talk about exclusivity, but there are thoughts about ramping it all up a bit. Andrew is a Dom when he's talking with me, and he's interested in finding out what happens if I submit to him. (What is it with me and Doms? Do I attract them, or are they just likely to contact me?) All this and his first message to me was only 10 days ago.
And do you know what makes me feel even sluttier?
Not only do Luke and Andrew know about each other, they encourage me as well. I tell them what's happening and I often chat to both of them at once. And more than that: I don't feel ashamed about it!
Wednesday, 28 May 2014
Sub-drop and aftercare
So, I've only had 3 play partners till date and I never experienced a sub drop yet. In fact, I never even heard of the phenomenon until a few weeks ago, when I saw the term on FetLife. I then had to check to find out if I understood the meaning correctly.
I do get high from playing, but I don't drop, but rather I float down, which can take me several days.
The first times were very special. We're talking about me being introduced into BDSM by some very dear friends, in a caring and loving atmosphere, taking a whole week. During that week my after care consisted of cuddles, talks, more cuddles and having a laugh together. After my first session I felt great, and surprisingly normal. I didn't realise I was far from normal until next day, when I came down. Then I had a "Well, that was different" thought, and went on reading my book. Looking back, I realise I hadn't come down all the way, and in fact, I probably never really came down all week. When I went back home, I must still have been high as a kite, but I never recognised it. And coming down from that coincided with realising there would be no more sessions with those friends ever, as per the agreed to terms, so everything was very mixed and confusing. By the time I came down I was home again, at work, life the normal humdrum, nothing to get excited about, except the prospect of getting out there, in the local scene.
My next sessions, with John, were in public. Of course, being public, they were not intimate, which influenced my mood considerably. Couple that with the fact that John and I were really strangers to each other, this meant I didn't high. I enjoyed myself very much, but I could not allow myself to go any further. I still had no idea what to expect, or even what feelings were "normal", so I didn't worry about it. I also had no idea about after care, and when John offered me cuddles, I didn't want them. I just didn't feel close enough to him to want cuddles, and I didn't think I needed them. He gave me his FetLife name, his email address, told me to contact him when I needed to, and I didn't understand why he'd think I would need to. What we shared for me was purely physical, not emotional, there was no real high and certainly no drop. And before we got to really know each other, I travelled to the other end of the world and stayed there.
Then I met Luke. I got to know him, and to play games with him, before I found out he's a fellow kinkster, and I'm at ease around him. Well, I'm at ease unless we're about to start a session, then I'm very, very nervous. He's primal and full on and our sessions are very intense for me. And often so painful that I can't just breathe through it. Cold caning, anyone? It hurts, a lot! When we play, I cry. Not from the pain, but from all the emotions that go with our play. And I cry hardest when he compliments me, or tells me how beautiful his marks on my butt look, or calls me a good slut. Afterwards we cuddle, have a bite to eat, something to drink, and cuddle some more, spend time together before it's time for me to go home again. Now I recognise my high, and I appreciate the after care, and I know how important it is.
Fortunately I still haven't experienced a sub drop and I hope I never will.
I do get high from playing, but I don't drop, but rather I float down, which can take me several days.
The first times were very special. We're talking about me being introduced into BDSM by some very dear friends, in a caring and loving atmosphere, taking a whole week. During that week my after care consisted of cuddles, talks, more cuddles and having a laugh together. After my first session I felt great, and surprisingly normal. I didn't realise I was far from normal until next day, when I came down. Then I had a "Well, that was different" thought, and went on reading my book. Looking back, I realise I hadn't come down all the way, and in fact, I probably never really came down all week. When I went back home, I must still have been high as a kite, but I never recognised it. And coming down from that coincided with realising there would be no more sessions with those friends ever, as per the agreed to terms, so everything was very mixed and confusing. By the time I came down I was home again, at work, life the normal humdrum, nothing to get excited about, except the prospect of getting out there, in the local scene.
My next sessions, with John, were in public. Of course, being public, they were not intimate, which influenced my mood considerably. Couple that with the fact that John and I were really strangers to each other, this meant I didn't high. I enjoyed myself very much, but I could not allow myself to go any further. I still had no idea what to expect, or even what feelings were "normal", so I didn't worry about it. I also had no idea about after care, and when John offered me cuddles, I didn't want them. I just didn't feel close enough to him to want cuddles, and I didn't think I needed them. He gave me his FetLife name, his email address, told me to contact him when I needed to, and I didn't understand why he'd think I would need to. What we shared for me was purely physical, not emotional, there was no real high and certainly no drop. And before we got to really know each other, I travelled to the other end of the world and stayed there.
Then I met Luke. I got to know him, and to play games with him, before I found out he's a fellow kinkster, and I'm at ease around him. Well, I'm at ease unless we're about to start a session, then I'm very, very nervous. He's primal and full on and our sessions are very intense for me. And often so painful that I can't just breathe through it. Cold caning, anyone? It hurts, a lot! When we play, I cry. Not from the pain, but from all the emotions that go with our play. And I cry hardest when he compliments me, or tells me how beautiful his marks on my butt look, or calls me a good slut. Afterwards we cuddle, have a bite to eat, something to drink, and cuddle some more, spend time together before it's time for me to go home again. Now I recognise my high, and I appreciate the after care, and I know how important it is.
Fortunately I still haven't experienced a sub drop and I hope I never will.
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