A View Forward

Blogging seems to have fallen by the wayside in my life, but then to a lesser extent so has kink. I don’t recall the last play party I went to, and it’s been so long now that I would have to learn my party confidence all over again.

Still Mat and I maintain some level of domestic kink,which is delightful and has the advantage of being warm, convenient and not requiring me to wear uncomfortable shoes.

As ever, I’m not bored. My life has many strands of things I want to spend my time doing, interspersed with the things I have to spend my time doing. This coming year is going to be ‘interesting’ and I don’t yet know what that will mean for kink. Still I’m going to try to grab the opportunities I can find and have as much fun as I can even if I don’t have much to share here.

Sometimes It Is All About Me

Being a Domme is all about the submissive. I think I’ve mentioned this before.

But there are moments when that isn’t true. When my Boy runs me a bath with candles and bubbles. When he then washes me gently and massages my feet. When he climbs into the bath to provide me sexual pleasure.
I am warm and comfortable and lost in delight and not a little light-headed.

He helps me out gently and takes care of me.

Then I lie down on the bed and with his mouth he gives me pleasure, worshipping my cunt. He is gentle and patient. I am quiet, my mind drifting while my body enjoys his ministrations. Selfishly I relax into the pleasure, happy to enjoy it, to receive this gift. My hands stroke his head, his hair is soft and easy to hold on to.
The pleasure builds slowly without pressure until I find myself close to orgasm. Now my mind joins in, with sexual images to help carry me over that edge, to complete my pleasure.

I am gasping, shaking, and yet somehow still relaxed. I lie back down and am caressed and held. It is a perfect moment.
It is my perfect moment.

A Brief View

I seem hardly to have time for serious kink blogging these days but it’s not forgotten. Nor is the joy of it decreased. Still happy domesticity and a myriad of other projects take my time away both from here and also from the public play and photography that fuels this blog.

This coming year though I hope to find more time for those, to satisfy my Boy’s needs and my own desires. Perhaps too I will find time to muse on the complex peculiarities of our D/s relationship, which seems (in its own unique way) to meet our fluctuating needs.

In the meantime I can reflect that this last year has been full of love and happiness and that I am truly the luckiest of women. Happy New Year to you all.

A New Look

I’ve been busy and haven’t really been posting here much despite continuing to have fun and to explore my kinky side. So maybe it’s time for a change, a fresh lick of paint and a few fun adventures. If nothing else I can spend some time playing with WordPress and tweaking this blog a little.

Let’s see what happens…

Not Really Submissive

I’ve been thinking about my ‘submissive’ fantasies and why I have them when I don’t really want to be submissive at all.

Actually when I look at it most (maybe all) of those fantasies are sexual. Let’s face it; ‘nice’ girls aren’t supposed to enjoy sex, these days it’s not even always safe to enjoy sex and anyway Dommes are supposed to be ice queens denying everybody sex.

So, that doesn’t leave many places to go with a slutty sexual fantasy. Whoever I am being, I’m not supposed to be the one being the centre of sexual attention (these days that’s surely Mat’s role) even if I’d like it. Plus while I like the idea of slutty sex (no I’m not putting the details in this post but you could read my fantasies for ideas), where on earth does one find clean, STD-free cock, that comes with an intelligent, considerate and consent aware person on the other end.
Actually, I can find those, but then when you like and respect the person on the other end, I feel rather uncomfortable about asking them to be part of my fantasies (especially if it involves multiple men which experience so far leads me to feel most men are less keen on).

Even the non-sexual aspects of those fantasies are about permission to enjoy myself, to enjoy sensations, pure physical moments without feeling guilty that I’m ‘making’ someone else do something for me, that they’re only doing it to please me, that I’m being selfish for demanding it of them.

Really (and I know some of my readers will throw something at the screen at this point) I don’t want to be a bother to anyone. Fantasies, especially submissive ones, are my way of setting up a scene where I know that I’m not a bother, where I can enjoy getting what I want, without asking and therefore without feeling guilty either for the desire itself or the imposition on someone else’s pleasure.

Whereas in real life I want (and need) to feel in control because trust does not come easy. Plus all that planning and negotiating is sometimes an unreasonable amount of effort for something I can happily enjoy in my head safely, any time I please, without any worries at all.

So fantasies are a great escape into great sex. For me, it doesn’t always need to be real, because in my head it always is.

A Pizza Topping You Can’t Order

Mat was feeling slutty. He had been feeling that way for a while and his need was boiling over in him. I should probably point out that I had (originally) no intention of letting him cum that day and he knew it.

Lunch was leftover pizza from the night before. Well brunch really. Actually I mean, despite the lateness of the hour, it was actually breakfast – but pizza for breakfast is good, right?

I’d heated it up in the oven and was offering Mat some but he was initially reluctant. Then he suggested (frivolously) he could spunk on a slice of seafood pizza and then eat it.

Oh, so much, yes.

I gave him a plate with the one remaining slice of seafood pizza (tuna, onion, prawns and double anchovies) and sat back with my own plate of pizza to watch the show.

Mat was feeling slutty. He was naked, wanking his cock and telling me his filthy fantasies. Expressing a desire to suck cock, to be spunked on and to have his virgin cunt raped by an enormous cock.

That fantasy wasn’t enough for him alone, he needed more. He requested permission to use a toy and I granted it. He fetched my big blue dildo and proceeded to fuck himself on it eagerly.

I watched, I ate pizza, I tweaked his nipples and slapped his balls and told him what a filthy slut he was. I enjoyed the show.

He came, like a good boy, on his slice of pizza and then, like a good boy, he ate it up. Grimacing in the aftermath, a pizza almost too salty even for my anchovy loving Boy.

A pizza with a topping you can’t order.

A Submissive Side (Or Not)

Who am I? Sometimes it’s simple. Sometimes I’m just a Domme, but sometimes it’s more complicated than that.

I’m confused, lonely, frightened, endlessly searching. I want confidence, reassurance, growth.
Sometimes I’m submissive, wanting to be used, abused and loved. But for me submission turns out to be a road that leads to pain and not the good kind either.

To give myself to a Dom, what would I be asking for? Let me tell you.
I want to be encouraged, I want their hand holding mine. I want them pushing the back of my bike as I cycle along until I’m flying and I turn and discover they let go some time ago and have just been running along side me for reassurance.
But when I wobble, then I need them to be holding fast, to stop me from falling.

No human being can possibly be expected to be that person, to take me to the darkest places in my soul and bring me back safely, to give me strength and never let me down. So, submission, for me is pain, disappointment, damage to a heart already scarred by hurt.

I cannot live those fantasies without harm, so I will not live them.
Yet they resurface now and again, to be enjoyed alone inside my mind and also, it seems, here with you.