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.
Thursday, 19 June 2014
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.
Monday, 21 April 2014
But: I'm familyyyyyyyyyy
My relationship with my siblings is ... complicated. There was always (and I mean always!) drama. A was fighting with B, then they would close ranks to fight with C, then everybody would turn against somebody else: it was even too much effort to find out which siblings were even talking together. I never got that and they never got me: they just tried to make me just like them. I tried to stay out of the family wars, but they wanted me in, so at some point I let go of the rope and walked away.
That decision brought me a lot of peace for the next couple of decades.
And then Facebook happened and one sister contacted me with a friend request. By now I'd moved to the other side of the world, she and I never had any real problems, so I agreed. We occasionally comment on each others posts, exchange birthday and New Years wishes and that's it. Just the way I like it. I even friended some other siblings and we're all friendly, polite and non-interfering.
All was well, or so I thought.
Until that message from another sibling. She's 3 years my senior, and always tried to tell me what to do and even what to feel and think. (My remarks in brackets.)
Hi Juul (a diminutive of my name nobody only my parents and husband were allowed to call me by)
Saw that you're on facebook as well, but now at the other side of the world.
Divorced as well by now, if I see this correctly (nothing about my relationship on Facebook, since it's nobody's business), heavens a lot of marriages in our family have ended badly, could that be a result of our screwed up upbringing? (My husband and I grew apart, that can happen after 30 years of marriage, not exactly a bad end, I don't think.)
Jim and I have split up as well, unfortunately the alcohol became too big an issue between the two of us, two crates of beer a day is no competition. (Now she's dumping all over me.)
Remarried in 200x, but unfortunately Alex died shortly after, so widowed. Luckily I now have a very sweet new man in my life, we're living together now in Y. And therefore big family as well, because he has 5 children with their partners.
Hope your life is fine as well and that you're finding what you seek in far away America. (Because it's very easy to confuse New Zealand with the USA: both English speaking and both far away from Europe.)
Your sister Margaret (She's Margaret, I never called her by a diminutive of her name when she insisted on her full name, but she can't return the courtesy.)
I had no idea what to answer her, so I didn't. Then she sent me a friend request and I, foolishly perhaps, granted it.
Next thing I know she's remarking on a picture I've been tagged in:
Girl, how much you and Lisa look alike, and how well you look these days.
Lisa is another sister, I've been told we look alike since I've been 4, I know that already. And what does she mean that I look well these days? Unfortunate choice of words or backhanded compliment?
A posting on my wall:
So far away from the netherlands, but by the looks of it a very good and nice life over there. Hopefully you don't miss the salt liquorice too much, because that's hard to find in a lot of countries. Love, big hug, Margaret.
Yeah, I never figured that Dutch liquorice might be harder to find abroad. It's a good thing my elder sister enlightened me on that point. OK, I'm getting annoyed by her now, but I still don't react, because I don't know what to say and because I don't want to get too close. Sis, take a hint already and back off.
And then, today, another message. Please read it and let me know how justified I am to feel thoroughly ticked off.
Hello Julia, After all these years I'm very curious about how you ended up in New Zealand and what happened in your life. You never were very involved with the family (that's right, I've always been the introvert between the extroverts), something I got fed up with after years of Christmas cards (cards I never received, because she never sent them, my family is good at rewriting history), you never reacted, so sent you a last one with the words, if you don't send anything back, you choose to not have any contact. (Must have been about the time that I, after a last letter to all of them, decided to drop the rope.) But you still added me (I did not initiate that contact) so despite everything you do want some kind of contact, actually. Therefore, tell me about your life these last years. (It's not upon others to define how much I want to share, now is it?) Saw the picture of you and your granddaughter (not my grandchild actually, as she could easily have found out), a beautiful, well groomed woman, what a change, because when we saw each other last you didn't take such good care of yourself. Like when wearing your office dress at the wedding anniversary of Mary and John. (A new dress, in which I looked great, IIRC.) You look great in this (jeans and a sweater, nothing special), grooming becomes you. And you resemble Lisa very much now, in looks and taste. Cheers and big hug, Margaret
I don't know what to answer her. I'm not sure I even want to. Perhaps just block her and let the drama roll on without me?
That decision brought me a lot of peace for the next couple of decades.
And then Facebook happened and one sister contacted me with a friend request. By now I'd moved to the other side of the world, she and I never had any real problems, so I agreed. We occasionally comment on each others posts, exchange birthday and New Years wishes and that's it. Just the way I like it. I even friended some other siblings and we're all friendly, polite and non-interfering.
All was well, or so I thought.
Until that message from another sibling. She's 3 years my senior, and always tried to tell me what to do and even what to feel and think. (My remarks in brackets.)
Hi Juul (a diminutive of my name nobody only my parents and husband were allowed to call me by)
Saw that you're on facebook as well, but now at the other side of the world.
Divorced as well by now, if I see this correctly (nothing about my relationship on Facebook, since it's nobody's business), heavens a lot of marriages in our family have ended badly, could that be a result of our screwed up upbringing? (My husband and I grew apart, that can happen after 30 years of marriage, not exactly a bad end, I don't think.)
Jim and I have split up as well, unfortunately the alcohol became too big an issue between the two of us, two crates of beer a day is no competition. (Now she's dumping all over me.)
Remarried in 200x, but unfortunately Alex died shortly after, so widowed. Luckily I now have a very sweet new man in my life, we're living together now in Y. And therefore big family as well, because he has 5 children with their partners.
Hope your life is fine as well and that you're finding what you seek in far away America. (Because it's very easy to confuse New Zealand with the USA: both English speaking and both far away from Europe.)
Your sister Margaret (She's Margaret, I never called her by a diminutive of her name when she insisted on her full name, but she can't return the courtesy.)
I had no idea what to answer her, so I didn't. Then she sent me a friend request and I, foolishly perhaps, granted it.
Next thing I know she's remarking on a picture I've been tagged in:
Girl, how much you and Lisa look alike, and how well you look these days.
Lisa is another sister, I've been told we look alike since I've been 4, I know that already. And what does she mean that I look well these days? Unfortunate choice of words or backhanded compliment?
A posting on my wall:
So far away from the netherlands, but by the looks of it a very good and nice life over there. Hopefully you don't miss the salt liquorice too much, because that's hard to find in a lot of countries. Love, big hug, Margaret.
Yeah, I never figured that Dutch liquorice might be harder to find abroad. It's a good thing my elder sister enlightened me on that point. OK, I'm getting annoyed by her now, but I still don't react, because I don't know what to say and because I don't want to get too close. Sis, take a hint already and back off.
And then, today, another message. Please read it and let me know how justified I am to feel thoroughly ticked off.
Hello Julia, After all these years I'm very curious about how you ended up in New Zealand and what happened in your life. You never were very involved with the family (that's right, I've always been the introvert between the extroverts), something I got fed up with after years of Christmas cards (cards I never received, because she never sent them, my family is good at rewriting history), you never reacted, so sent you a last one with the words, if you don't send anything back, you choose to not have any contact. (Must have been about the time that I, after a last letter to all of them, decided to drop the rope.) But you still added me (I did not initiate that contact) so despite everything you do want some kind of contact, actually. Therefore, tell me about your life these last years. (It's not upon others to define how much I want to share, now is it?) Saw the picture of you and your granddaughter (not my grandchild actually, as she could easily have found out), a beautiful, well groomed woman, what a change, because when we saw each other last you didn't take such good care of yourself. Like when wearing your office dress at the wedding anniversary of Mary and John. (A new dress, in which I looked great, IIRC.) You look great in this (jeans and a sweater, nothing special), grooming becomes you. And you resemble Lisa very much now, in looks and taste. Cheers and big hug, Margaret
I don't know what to answer her. I'm not sure I even want to. Perhaps just block her and let the drama roll on without me?
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Submissive? Me?
All my life I've had an inkling that I might be masochistic and submissive, even before I knew those words. I also knew these feelings weren't "normal", so I hid them far, far away, where even I had problems finding them.
Then I met this amazing guy: smart, funny, kind, loving, generous. He fell in love with me, I loved him back, we got married, raised a family, were each others' friend, lover, spouse, co-parent. I gave him all of me, except the "abnormal" part, there was no place for that in our marriage. But that didn't matter, I could easily live without that, forget it even was there. But everything else was his, I was his body and soul. I told him so and I thought I showed it as well. We were happy, so happy it hurt. Although he accepted all I gave him, he didn't seem to realise how totally I was his, but that didn't really matter either.
And then his love stopped. I still don't know what happened, according to him nothing had changed, but he stopped telling and showing me he loved me. No more love, no more appreciation, no more sex. But I still loved him, I still wanted him, I was still his, only his, totally his. He just didn't want that anymore. When I finally got that, I could move on.
Our relationship ended, I started to explore my kinky side and found out I love it! Well, I love the masochism, not so much the submissive part.
I've never had a long(er) term BDSM relationship. The first one was for a limited period only, under strict terms. The second one can hardly be called a relationship: we met at play nights, played together twice, had fun together, but nothing personal developed between us.
My first play partner was a Dom I've known for years, he's a dear friend of mine and I love and trust him. He wanted me to submit, I thought I'd enjoy it, so I agreed wholeheartedly. I found out that I didn't mind the kneeling, not speaking until spoken to, following orders, doing domestic chores etcetera, but that I also did not enjoy it in the least. It was something I did because it pleased him, not because it pleased me.
I also discovered that I don't like mind games. I think that's the fault of my analytical mind, at least partly. The mind games start and I go: "Hm, I wonder what's that for. Oh, hold on, he wants me to feel ... OK, that makes sense. So my best reaction would be ... Yes, that seems to have made him happy: success!" All in all not conducive to submission. Cooperation Yes, submission No.
Partner number two liked me to submit as well, but he met with even less success. During play I would follow his orders, move how he wanted me to move, allow him to tie me up, but that was about it. After play I did kneel when he wanted me to, but that was the extent of my submission. I couldn't even call him Sir, because I didn't feel we had that kind of relationship. I didn't see him as my Dom, not even during play.
My present play partner has Dom tendencies as well, and he seems to enjoy mind games too. Since we only will be playing together and not pursuing a more serious relationship, we agreed to keep it strictly SM, without the D/s elements, and that suits me fine.
For the moment, I've decided to not try submission. It doesn't do it for me, at all, but it still attracts me.
Does that mean I am a closet submissive, who hasn't found the Dom yet that's right for her? Or do I really believe that being a masochist also means I need to have a submissive side as well? Or have I been burnt in the past, by offering myself up and having that thrown back into my face, so that I'm now afraid to show my submissive self?
I don't know. Do you?
Then I met this amazing guy: smart, funny, kind, loving, generous. He fell in love with me, I loved him back, we got married, raised a family, were each others' friend, lover, spouse, co-parent. I gave him all of me, except the "abnormal" part, there was no place for that in our marriage. But that didn't matter, I could easily live without that, forget it even was there. But everything else was his, I was his body and soul. I told him so and I thought I showed it as well. We were happy, so happy it hurt. Although he accepted all I gave him, he didn't seem to realise how totally I was his, but that didn't really matter either.
And then his love stopped. I still don't know what happened, according to him nothing had changed, but he stopped telling and showing me he loved me. No more love, no more appreciation, no more sex. But I still loved him, I still wanted him, I was still his, only his, totally his. He just didn't want that anymore. When I finally got that, I could move on.
Our relationship ended, I started to explore my kinky side and found out I love it! Well, I love the masochism, not so much the submissive part.
I've never had a long(er) term BDSM relationship. The first one was for a limited period only, under strict terms. The second one can hardly be called a relationship: we met at play nights, played together twice, had fun together, but nothing personal developed between us.
My first play partner was a Dom I've known for years, he's a dear friend of mine and I love and trust him. He wanted me to submit, I thought I'd enjoy it, so I agreed wholeheartedly. I found out that I didn't mind the kneeling, not speaking until spoken to, following orders, doing domestic chores etcetera, but that I also did not enjoy it in the least. It was something I did because it pleased him, not because it pleased me.
I also discovered that I don't like mind games. I think that's the fault of my analytical mind, at least partly. The mind games start and I go: "Hm, I wonder what's that for. Oh, hold on, he wants me to feel ... OK, that makes sense. So my best reaction would be ... Yes, that seems to have made him happy: success!" All in all not conducive to submission. Cooperation Yes, submission No.
Partner number two liked me to submit as well, but he met with even less success. During play I would follow his orders, move how he wanted me to move, allow him to tie me up, but that was about it. After play I did kneel when he wanted me to, but that was the extent of my submission. I couldn't even call him Sir, because I didn't feel we had that kind of relationship. I didn't see him as my Dom, not even during play.
My present play partner has Dom tendencies as well, and he seems to enjoy mind games too. Since we only will be playing together and not pursuing a more serious relationship, we agreed to keep it strictly SM, without the D/s elements, and that suits me fine.
For the moment, I've decided to not try submission. It doesn't do it for me, at all, but it still attracts me.
Does that mean I am a closet submissive, who hasn't found the Dom yet that's right for her? Or do I really believe that being a masochist also means I need to have a submissive side as well? Or have I been burnt in the past, by offering myself up and having that thrown back into my face, so that I'm now afraid to show my submissive self?
I don't know. Do you?
Friday, 11 April 2014
That was the week that was
On Monday I got an inkling that Luke might be a kinkster. On Sunday I got the confirmation. On Monday I came out to him and we planned a meeting to discuss for the Wednesday a week later.
Until that time, we talked in person twice, and a couple of times more on Fetlife, where Luke asked me to fill in a questionnaire. Truth be told: I hate those. I've done it before, and probably will do it time and time again, I see why they're important, but I just hate filling them in. What do I want, what do I need, what do I expect, what can't I do, what are my limits, how's my health, what are my experiences? You go over them point by point, reading and thinking and answering, and find out later you missed a couple of questions, checked the wrong box, misunderstood, or otherwise goofed.
Sent the questionnaire, saved a copy. Agreed in chat that our relationship will be non-exclusive. This is not for a Happily Ever After, but just for the Here and Now, for as long as we're both happy with it.
Tuesday, the day before, we chat on Fetlife, determining to meet at 10, my place, go out for a coffee/tea, talk and possibly more. And then Luke mentioned sex, and I freaked.
For those of you that don't know this: a BDSM session may include sex, but that is not at all necessary. In fact, parties in the scene often have a No Penetration rule. This means that when I played in the Netherlands, there was no sex. Neither was there any sex with my first play partner, since he is in a committed relationship and although our sessions were suggested by his partner, this was a hard limit for her. So for me there is no correlation between play and sex. To that now add that I haven't had sex in longer than I care to remember, and certainly longer than I'm going to tell you all, coupled with the fact that Luke is so much younger than me that it's impossible to believe he could be attracted to me, and you start getting my freak.
Wednesday morning came and I got busy. Helping everybody get ready to leave for work and daycare, having a shower and dressing (just jeans and a thin sweater, but nice underwear), doing laundry and ironing, get the meat defrosted, preparing what I can for dinner, drinking a pot of tea and waiting for 10 o'clock. I was not just nervous: I was terrified. Not afraid of what Luke was going to do, but of what I was getting myself into. How much of a slut was I, taking the initiative like that? Was I really ready for this? Did I want to talk about what I crave? Would we play today? Could I go for a session? And would there be sex?
Luke was on time and we drove to the beach. I grew up close to the sea and have always loved it. We walked and talked, sat and went through the list, walked and talked some more, found a place where I could get a pot of tea. The weather was nice enough, so we sat outside, where we could chat without being overheard.
Most topics had been discussed by now: hard and soft limits, wants and cravings, double penetration and anal sex, my past experiences, my last relationship, my dry spell, expectations, outlook on mind games (I don't like them, Luke does), what to do if it doesn't work out between us.
Me: "So: sex sex. Are we going to have that?" Luke: "We can have sex, if you want. Do you want to?" Me: "I think it's bloody well time." That made us both laugh, and we talked about safe sex.
We drove to his place. Until this moment we'd hardly touched at all, and I reached over to take his hand. He pressed mine, grinned, and reached over to play with my nipple, teasing it out of my bra, under my clothing, while I leaned back and relished the touch.
At his place I needed the bathroom, urgently. Not surprising, with the nerves and after all that tea.
In the bedroom Luke got his toys sorted and put a towel on the bed. "Right, let's get you naked." I waited for a moment, to see if he wanted to undress me, but he just watched me and I stripped. It had been ages since I last undressed with a man looking on and I was surprised I wasn't more nervous. When I was naked, he checked me out, making me very uncomfortable. I know I look good for my age, but I'm a middle aged woman, slightly overweight, sagging, with my body showing clear signs of past pregnancies. Having someone watch me like that, feels like I'm being judged. At least he didn't look repulsed. And I looked at him, in his jeans, no longer wearing his shirt, looking so lean and trim and young.
Luke told me to get on the bed, on my hands and knees, and I did. Don't ask me what he used on my bum, I didn't look, and I didn't care, I just felt. And what I mainly felt was pain. Next time, we'd better go for a bit of a warm up, I never expected Luke to go at it as he did right from the bat, so I never discussed that with him. As it was, it soon became too painful for me, but I expect that I could take a lot more if we started a bit slower. It was good, but it was too much. What was even nicer was when he would pause occasionally, pull me up against him and hold and stroke me.
Luke: "Do you want to be well used by me?" Me, polite as always (well, most of the time):"Yes, please."
The sound of a wrapper being opened and then the feel of Luke's fingers, checking me out. No worries there, I was already wet. Then his penis entered my vagina and he started moving. It didn't take long for me to get really vocal, letting him know how much I liked this. And let me tell you: the guy has stamina and I loved every moment of it, which I showed by .. crying. I sobbed, the tears were streaming down my face, I moaned and I cried out.
After checking I wanted it as well, Luke lubed a butt plug and inserted it while he kept fucking my cunt, making it even more intense.
Then Luke decided that I needed his penis up my arse. He made sure I was well lubed up before switching holes and he slipped in quite easily passed my sphincter. I cried even harder now, lowering myself on my forearms, pushing my butt back: "You fill me up so good." "I love fucking your arse."
I have no idea how long this went on for, but it felt heavenly. Being held like this, skin on skin contact, having sex again, all the while feeling the pain he inflicted on me earlier. It made me feel cherished, loved, heard, desirable, sexy.
A nice shower afterwards, changing the sheets of the bed together, and we laid down on the bed, side by side, watching silly YouTube video's, caressing, relaxing.
After lunch I was driven home. I came down from my high that night, Luke checked in on me, on-line, the day after. I am still black and blue and loving it.
Until that time, we talked in person twice, and a couple of times more on Fetlife, where Luke asked me to fill in a questionnaire. Truth be told: I hate those. I've done it before, and probably will do it time and time again, I see why they're important, but I just hate filling them in. What do I want, what do I need, what do I expect, what can't I do, what are my limits, how's my health, what are my experiences? You go over them point by point, reading and thinking and answering, and find out later you missed a couple of questions, checked the wrong box, misunderstood, or otherwise goofed.
Sent the questionnaire, saved a copy. Agreed in chat that our relationship will be non-exclusive. This is not for a Happily Ever After, but just for the Here and Now, for as long as we're both happy with it.
Tuesday, the day before, we chat on Fetlife, determining to meet at 10, my place, go out for a coffee/tea, talk and possibly more. And then Luke mentioned sex, and I freaked.
For those of you that don't know this: a BDSM session may include sex, but that is not at all necessary. In fact, parties in the scene often have a No Penetration rule. This means that when I played in the Netherlands, there was no sex. Neither was there any sex with my first play partner, since he is in a committed relationship and although our sessions were suggested by his partner, this was a hard limit for her. So for me there is no correlation between play and sex. To that now add that I haven't had sex in longer than I care to remember, and certainly longer than I'm going to tell you all, coupled with the fact that Luke is so much younger than me that it's impossible to believe he could be attracted to me, and you start getting my freak.
Wednesday morning came and I got busy. Helping everybody get ready to leave for work and daycare, having a shower and dressing (just jeans and a thin sweater, but nice underwear), doing laundry and ironing, get the meat defrosted, preparing what I can for dinner, drinking a pot of tea and waiting for 10 o'clock. I was not just nervous: I was terrified. Not afraid of what Luke was going to do, but of what I was getting myself into. How much of a slut was I, taking the initiative like that? Was I really ready for this? Did I want to talk about what I crave? Would we play today? Could I go for a session? And would there be sex?
Luke was on time and we drove to the beach. I grew up close to the sea and have always loved it. We walked and talked, sat and went through the list, walked and talked some more, found a place where I could get a pot of tea. The weather was nice enough, so we sat outside, where we could chat without being overheard.
Most topics had been discussed by now: hard and soft limits, wants and cravings, double penetration and anal sex, my past experiences, my last relationship, my dry spell, expectations, outlook on mind games (I don't like them, Luke does), what to do if it doesn't work out between us.
Me: "So: sex sex. Are we going to have that?" Luke: "We can have sex, if you want. Do you want to?" Me: "I think it's bloody well time." That made us both laugh, and we talked about safe sex.
We drove to his place. Until this moment we'd hardly touched at all, and I reached over to take his hand. He pressed mine, grinned, and reached over to play with my nipple, teasing it out of my bra, under my clothing, while I leaned back and relished the touch.
At his place I needed the bathroom, urgently. Not surprising, with the nerves and after all that tea.
In the bedroom Luke got his toys sorted and put a towel on the bed. "Right, let's get you naked." I waited for a moment, to see if he wanted to undress me, but he just watched me and I stripped. It had been ages since I last undressed with a man looking on and I was surprised I wasn't more nervous. When I was naked, he checked me out, making me very uncomfortable. I know I look good for my age, but I'm a middle aged woman, slightly overweight, sagging, with my body showing clear signs of past pregnancies. Having someone watch me like that, feels like I'm being judged. At least he didn't look repulsed. And I looked at him, in his jeans, no longer wearing his shirt, looking so lean and trim and young.
Luke told me to get on the bed, on my hands and knees, and I did. Don't ask me what he used on my bum, I didn't look, and I didn't care, I just felt. And what I mainly felt was pain. Next time, we'd better go for a bit of a warm up, I never expected Luke to go at it as he did right from the bat, so I never discussed that with him. As it was, it soon became too painful for me, but I expect that I could take a lot more if we started a bit slower. It was good, but it was too much. What was even nicer was when he would pause occasionally, pull me up against him and hold and stroke me.
Luke: "Do you want to be well used by me?" Me, polite as always (well, most of the time):"Yes, please."
The sound of a wrapper being opened and then the feel of Luke's fingers, checking me out. No worries there, I was already wet. Then his penis entered my vagina and he started moving. It didn't take long for me to get really vocal, letting him know how much I liked this. And let me tell you: the guy has stamina and I loved every moment of it, which I showed by .. crying. I sobbed, the tears were streaming down my face, I moaned and I cried out.
After checking I wanted it as well, Luke lubed a butt plug and inserted it while he kept fucking my cunt, making it even more intense.
Then Luke decided that I needed his penis up my arse. He made sure I was well lubed up before switching holes and he slipped in quite easily passed my sphincter. I cried even harder now, lowering myself on my forearms, pushing my butt back: "You fill me up so good." "I love fucking your arse."
I have no idea how long this went on for, but it felt heavenly. Being held like this, skin on skin contact, having sex again, all the while feeling the pain he inflicted on me earlier. It made me feel cherished, loved, heard, desirable, sexy.
A nice shower afterwards, changing the sheets of the bed together, and we laid down on the bed, side by side, watching silly YouTube video's, caressing, relaxing.
After lunch I was driven home. I came down from my high that night, Luke checked in on me, on-line, the day after. I am still black and blue and loving it.
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