When We Grow Older

My boyfriend and I were sitting in the sunshine. We were drinking coffee and watching an old couple cross the road. She had a bandaged leg and was walking with two sticks but the two of them were a couple who, like us, had just been sitting in the café drinking coffee.

My boyfriend turned to me. “Do you think we’ll still be perverts when we’re ninety?” he asked.
I replied that I did, after all why should our relationship change because we’re older.
“You realise no one else will find it sexy?” he pointed out. I did and I do. That doesn’t mean we should stop feeling or being sexy though.
There may of course be fewer pictures on the blog and perhaps the tales of our adventures will be blander. After all, getting naked may take us longer, we may no longer be agile enough to do things we now take for granted but I cannot imagine not holding my Boy’s head in my lap and reminding him that he is mine.
Actually the one thing that frightens me about that thought of us being ninety and being kinky is that biology itself may steal it from me.

I’ve been kinky since childhood and my sex drive and my kink drive are effectively the same thing. They have only been separated once when I was made to feel so ashamed of my submission that I couldn’t face it anymore. That shame still occasionally haunts me, a shame which my Domme side is thankfully free of.

My sex drive is something therefore which is part of me, an important part of who I am. Important enough that this blog is a part of my self-expression. That drive was lost though when I was on the pill. The scary thing was how little I realised what was wrong. The sheer delight, the buzzing, vertiginous feeling of pleasure was gone and I couldn’t remember how it felt. I couldn’t feel desire, I was not myself. By choice I will never let go of that part of myself again but nature may have other ideas.

To get from here to ninety the menopause hangs like an ominous bridge between us. Another hormonal shift and this one I cannot avoid. It is, I hope, still a very long way away but I cannot know what it will bring. Perhaps nothing, Puberty didn’t change me so why should its inverse?

In the meantime however I intend to go on being a perverted, dirty little girl and loving every second of it for as long as I can. Hopefully until I’m ninety.

Submission To Give

Recently my submissive side has been begging for attention. The voice in my head reminding me who I am, the yearning to have my wrists bound, to surrender myself into another’s hands, all of these have been insistent reminders of a part of me deeply buried.

Those brief fantasies, flashes of desire are delightful and compelling.

Yet when I contemplate really, physically, experiencing such things I am overcome with panic. I cannot imagine actually submitting to someone, letting go completely, without being tense and stressed at the thought.

I’m so ashamed of these desires.
I want to be reassured, made to feel that it’s OK to feel this way, but comfort is hard to find. No one can tell me that its alright to be submissive, to want to lose myself for a little while in the will of others. No one can tell me that being a slut is OK, that enjoying my sexuality freely and openly does not lower my worth, or reduce my value in the eyes of the people I love. No one can tell me that I am still loved, admired and wanted even after I have allowed myself to be hurt and abused.
I want to be told that, want to believe it, I don’t think I know how.

I am deeply ashamed of my submission but conversely intensely proud of Mat for being submissive. That contradiction puzzles me and I can offer little explanation other than that I want to give him exactly the approval and pride that I want but am lacking for myself.

Still Mat is stronger than I am and more detached. His submission is lighter, more playful. He can bottom freely without shame or fear, merely enjoying the experience. He can happily play with people he isn’t emotionally entwined with knowing he has his own limits and he will quickly stand up to anyone who tries to breach them. Even what he does with me is primarily fun, loving yes, but still, I suspect, much less emotionally meaningful for him than it is to me.

For me both dominance and submission are hugely emotional experiences. I offer too much of myself and let down too many guards. Desperate to be loved I will let my own inner standards be breached in the search for approval and hate myself for doing so. I will read too much into every encounter and be devastated if I do not get sufficient approval and reassurance.
I have no strength of my own. I exist only in the relationships I have with people I love.

One wise man once said “I have submission to give but not to waste“, it’s a phrase that has always stayed with me.
I don’t want to get hurt, don’t want to feel rejected or unworthy or unsafe. The solution seems to be to learn to be casual about it. To bottom selfishly for fun rather than forcing it to be deeply committed. To learn to keep my guard up and protect my soul from being hurt. To learn to enjoy the moment, the sensation, without looking for meaning.

For now that means changing some definitions, learning some new habits, thinking about things in a different way.
In a strange way it means becoming my own Domme, keeping my submission for myself, protecting myself, loving myself.

I have submission to give but not to waste.

Jumping Off A Cliff

I jumped off a cliff. Well officially it was actually a slide but it was a slide with a sheer vertical drop high enough for a long drawn out moment of panic – but I’m getting ahead of myself…

We’d gone out for the day and much fun was being had. Mat and I had already raced each other down the toboggan run until we’d determined that which lane you were in had more effect than technique or even body weight. Then we found this slide.

Basically a vertical drop with a curve at the bottom and a long horizontal section to lose momentum in. It’s supposed to be fun. The people using it were having fun but it still looked jolly dangerous to me.

Then Mat took off and ran up to the slide. I watched, hating watching, as he sat at the top above that sheer drop. My precious boy, taking a risk, and I wasn’t there with him. My heart ached as he pushed off into space.
He slid down, arms and legs akimbo, racing along the length easily. He had a cheery smile as he got up but I couldn’t return it. I hated seeing him risk himself like that on his own when I felt I should have been there too but was too scared.

I’m the first to admit my perception of risk is way off. “What’s the worst that can happen?” is a question that haunts me often; I see the danger, the bad things all too easily. Physically too I’m a mess. I have poor coordination, little muscle memory and incredibly bad balance. Those things that look easy to you, to me they’re actually hard.

It had got a lot less busy when Perrin suggested I use the slide. He knows how much things like that scare me but I figure he knows the real risks better than I do. I figured too I should show Mat I wasn’t scared to try it. So I turned off all self-preservation and went for it. I knew I had one chance. If I hesitated I’d never make it over the top. Up I went and sat on the edge not looking down. But I needed to look, to face the drop, so I did. It looked exactly as I had imagined, sheer and frightening but I could see my loves at the far end waiting for me, all I had to do was push.

I screamed – like a girl!
Free fall is not my natural state. I don’t really remember how I landed although I remember the pain of bumping my head and my sense of indignation. Everyone had said it was so safe and there I was right all along! Then there was shock as everything caught up with me.

All I wanted was to make them proud of me.

I’ve been brought up to be responsible, to be safe, to always have a safety net, to be the safety net for others. I play it safe. It takes a lot to make me let go of all that, to take a risk.There have been a few times I’ve done that though.

My relationship with Perrin started with a big risk but with the wonderful feeling of knowing the reward was worth trying for. That, even if everything crashed and burned, simply giving our love a chance was worth possibly losing everything for. Instead I have been given the world.

My relationship with Mat has brought its own risks too. Again, although my stomach feels hollow as I look down at the depths, I know it was worth launching myself into this place and trusting in his heart to catch me.

All I want now is to make them proud of me.


I Hate Rope, Pain and Fear

Before I start to explain such a heretical statement let’s be clear; I’m talking about my feelings as a submissive here. As a Domme my feelings are completely different (and one day may be a topic for another post).

For a start I don’t actually enjoy being tied up. It is, well, uncomfortable and generally results in a loss of circulation and pins and needles. Even before that point it leaves me feeling out of control in a way that inhibits me. It lessens my ability to accept pain and reduces my feelings of submission.
I do admittedly have a curious desire to be suspended but only because I’d like to hang in the air, I don’t actually want to have to be tied up to do it.

I don’t really enjoy pain either. This admittedly is even less definitive than it sounds. I’ll admit that sometimes when I’m stressed, unhappy or struggling with my emotions then pain can be incredibly cathartic to me. I can lose myself in it, forgetting my worries and afterwards I feel calmer, more level headed. As if something in the process resets my body chemistry to normal.
To add to this I do enjoy a lot of sensation play. I think I’m drawing an invisible line here between wax play, or a gentle spanking say and the sort of pain that you actually want to stop (and admittedly done right that point can be moved a lot further away).

I don’t enjoy fear either. I struggle with trust and anything that leaves me feeling that it is about to be abused can snap me out of submission very quickly. Threats, even jokingly, of something that crosses a line, that breaches a limit leave me panicking and defensive. A lot of people like mind play, pretending something apparently evil but actually much safer and more innocuous, for me though that still often feels like a betrayal of trust. Again there’s a fine line between exciting and terrifying and I suspect that a lot of it comes down to how much I feel in control.

Having said I dislike all these things I am of course about to contradict myself by saying that of course, as a submissive, I will do them. For me, submission is surrendering my will to that of my Dom, especially perhaps when I do not enjoy the thing being done to me. That is why I prefer being unrestrained when being hurt; because I can walk away it is an active act of will to remain and becomes a consciously submissive moment.

So, yes, for a Dom who desires them I will do all these things willingly. In return though I need a lot of praise, approval, acceptance, love and support. I need to be helped into a submissive place and made to feel safe there, I need to be brought out of it gently and left feeling loved and secure, only then can I do the things which are hard for me.


Throughout my life, I’ve felt excluded. To start with, I come from a well off professional family, and I was sent first to prep school, then to be a border at a very nice public school.
Something I’ve only just come to realise is how that has affected me. A problem of going to a private school, quite apart from all your neighbours not going is that the school terms are shorter, and the holidays, therefore longer.
I, therefore, spent lots of my holiday time playing by myself. My parents both worked, (my mother part time) and didn’t have the time to drive me the 15 miles or so to my friends house. Not that I had that many friend’s, as I have always been a bit geeky and shy. I don’t make friends easily.
The result of this is that I’ve always been alone. The outsider. The boy that the girls ask to help with their science homework, but ignore the rest of the time. It’s ok, I guess, I’m used to it now, but I always find large gatherings of people difficult. Parties especially so, though any social gathering where I don’t know many people. I’m too shy and polite to push in (where I’m not wanted), so I end up sitting in a corner, or hovering just outside a conversation.

I’m not quite sure what to do about this.