Intangible Gifts

People give each other presents all the time. Sometimes those presents can be seen, held and even wrapped. Some presents, on the other hand, have little or no physical reality at all.

I was once given a poem. Actually over the years, I’ve been given several, some of them even written by the donor, but this one was extra special. I used to sit, curled up on the bed, listening to it being read for me by someone special. I’ve treasured it ever since. It’s actually a gift which later became tangible, when he gave me a book containing that same poem.

Similarly I have been given music. Sometimes in physical form on cassette, sometimes merely through a shared listening. Many of those songs are special to me still. Nobody’s ever written a song specifically for me yet, mind you. Feel free to try.

Rarely I am given a place, a location with some special significance, they too remain in my heart forever.

Don’t get me wrong, I love opening big, brightly wrapped boxes and finding out what’s inside. But the gifts which leave the biggest impression are those given from the heart.

And so, the poem in question still moves me, and I still think very fondly of the man who read it to me, so long ago. Let me share it with you all. Another intangible gift.

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

by W. B. Yeats

It’s Not What You Do

It’s not what you do, it’s the way that you do it.

I had my first serious boyfriend at seventeen. When we were finally alone together, we started kissing and getting naked, and generally exploring each other’s bodies. I kissed my way down the length of his torso, so naturally when I got to his cock, I kissed that too. I had no expectations at all, merely touching and sucking in a way that felt good to me, and that seemed to be getting a good reaction. When he came, I made a wonderful discovery. Cum tastes like the froth on a pint of Guinness, and I love Guinness. I swallowed. Well, what else would one possibly do?

In recent times, as a submissive, oral sex has been something I have come to consider as an integral part of my submission. It is often the first thing commanded of me in play, although I sometimes pre-empt the command slightly, foreseeing the demand. Even when done spontaneously, fellatio feels like an act of service, a submissive giving of pleasure. My enjoyment in the act for its own sake is swallowed up in my desire to please.

Different relationships it turns out, have different rules. There I was, with my boy, kissing, exploring. His cock was in my hand, hard and smooth, and I knew I wanted to taste it. For once, no sense of obedience or fulfilling expectation, merely my desire to enjoy him in a way which pleased me. I crouched down, taking him in my mouth, delighting in the feel and taste of him, and the moans of pleasure from above me. In that moment I felt a real sense of dominance, taking what I wanted from him, in the way I chose.

I wonder how an observer would have interpreted what was happening, superficially viewing those actions. Our roles within that invisible except to us, defined by dynamics and emotions they could not know.

Remember, what you see may not always be what you think.

Don’t Be My Valentine

I don’t do Valentines day.

Certainly I have done in the past. When Perrin and I were first together we went through the usual routine; cards, presents, dinner. Each year though it became harder to be ‘more romantic’ than the last and let’s face it, nobody wants to be accused of being less romantic than they used to be.

Humpty Dumpty had the right idea.

“To be sure I was!” Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for him. “I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that seems to be done right—-though I haven’t time to look it over thoroughly just now—-and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents—-”

“Certainly,” said Alice.

“And only one for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!”.

It’s the everyday love that really counts. It’s the coffee which Perrin gets out of bed to make for me every morning which means so much, not champagne once a year. (We do drink champagne rather more often than that it’s true). It’s the hugs and support when life is tough. It’s the laughing with me, the holding hands, the adventures planned and enjoyed together, and the confidence he gives me to explore on my own.

The same is true for the other special people in my life too. It’s the time they take to spend with me that matters. It’s the hugs they send when I’m feeling down, even though they can’t be there in person. It’s the smile when we meet, and the kiss when we part.

By the same token, if they don’t already know how I feel then I have failed them. No cards and flowers can help on one day a year if they don’t feel loved already.

The question is not “how do I tell them I love them today”, but “did I show them how I felt yesterday, and how can I show them tomorrow”?

Not that anybody but Perrin would consider me a Valentine if I did do it, of course, but I hope the people I care for know who they are all the same.


I recently asked a lovely young lady for a date (hello, if you are reading this!). Sadly it was declined, but it got me thinking about how my views on dates have changed since my youth.

I last seriously dated in my university days, back in 199*mumble*. The (few) dates I had back then seemed to be much more a prelude to, shall we say, bedroom activities. They were nice, involved lots of snogging, and not that much talking.

Oddly, they, almost exclusively ended up in long-term relationships, despite this!

I’ve been married now for ten years, to the lovely Caitlin, who I have never dated at all. Due to various circumstances, related earlier in this blog, she went from being friend who I was in love with (and married to someone else), to girlfriend I was living with, with no time for dates in between.

My desires for a date have most definitely changed. The urgent, “lets get somewhere private” has definitely receded, and I’m now very much looking for an evening of flirty, interesting conversation, good food and wine, and above all, both parties enjoying an evening out.

And, for a first date, I’d not be wanting anything else to happen either. Something my full-of-hormones 18 year old self would have trouble understanding.

I’ve not asked many people for a date, and only two since in the last 12 years. I think I need some practice.


I have, in pretty much every relationship I’ve had, been either living with the other person, or (at university) been sleeping with them pretty much every night. I think that has caused me some problems in the few relationships I’ve had that didn’t fit this model.

I was a late starter, relationship wise. But when I did finally get a steady girlfriend (call her E), the relationship lasted over a year. Not bad for someone I met in the queue to open a bank account in my first day of university. With E, we had a pretty intense relationship in which we spent almost every night together during the term, and had a few empty weeks missing each other over the holidays.

This was a pattern I was to repeat though my years at university.

When Caitlin and I got together, due to circumstances, she moved straight in with me, and we can’t have spent more than a handful of nights apart since. This has left me, I feel with a slightly different view of relationships to lots of people. As we were thrust together so suddenly, and while very much desired, also quite unexpectedly, we had to cope with all the stresses of living together, with none of the being able to retreat to our own houses for some space.

We really wanted it to work, and so we talked through all the problems and arguments; something that aides us today as we embark on our open relationship.

So, back to the subject. Amy, our girlfriend, does not live that close, and can’t visit nearly as often as we’d all like. So for the first time in my life, I’m having to have a relationship at a distance. Its been very enlightening, and has made me think lots about how I view trust and jealousy.

I, of course, trust Caitlin. We’ve shared so much that it really couldn’t be otherwise. With Amy, though, I’ve had to accept that I’m not there all the time, and have to trust her.

I do, by the way!

Its something that probably comes naturally to most people, but is not something I’ve had to deal with up to now. Amy also has her own life to lead, distinct from Caitlin and mine.

This physical distance also means that contact is quite different to the time I spend with Caitlin. When Amy is with us, the time is finite, and feelings and touches something to savour, as there will be a gap before they can be repeated. It makes for very interesting times.

I’m very happy.

Muffins and More

Perrin brought me breakfast in bed this morning. My absolute favourite breakfast, cheese and bacon muffins (with chive butter). That’s only part of what has made today such a great day for me.

First, some history. We’ve said we are open to playing with others. Well some time ago each of us found a special person to play with. More than just someone to have sex with, these were people we cared for and about. People we wanted to be ‘more than friends’. Any jealousy we might have had about this opening of our hearts to others was automatically offset by the sheer symmetry of it. You love her? Well I love him. Simple.

Life is never that simple. My relationship crumbled. I had hoped to salvage something meaningful from it, but have been dodging the inescapable truth. He’s just not that into me. We may be friends, but we’re not Friends. End of.

But learning that hurts. And in the process I have become fragile, vulnerable, and uncertain. I’ve struggled to write here, finding it hard to find my sexy side. I don’t want to be like that!

So here I am, being brought breakfast in bed. I’m loved, wanted, I’m happy.

Then a switchback; while making my breakfast Perrin has been chatting on twitter, a sexy fun conversation, with another woman. I find this upsetting, which is ridiculous. Objectively, nothing gives me cause for concern.  But I’m unhappy. I’m envious, that he has women to talk to, while I feel alone. No one talks to me that way.

So here is the bit where my husband really loves me. He messages someone who I’d pointed out as interesting, to encourage them to talk to me. Then he makes love to me, and gives me a delightful orgasm, before going away to leave me to chat ‘freely’ with them.

I felt a little out of my depth here, I’d never had that kind of conversation on twitter before. Hey, I’m not sure I’ve ever had that kind of conversation. I did all my dating before mobile phones. you can’t talk dirty on a phone screwed to the wall. As I lay there, I realised how excited I was by this, talking dirty with a relative stranger. I relaxed into it, and let his images carry me away, secure in the knowledge that Perrin wanted me to enjoy this moment. Suddenly there I was, cumming, for the second time that day, this time for another man.

That moment buoyed me up, let me feel truly sexy again. I have been smiling all day. A smile only made wider when my sexy husband made love to me yet again earlier, and gave me my third orgasm of the day. Me, who usually struggles to have one!

I feel like myself again, for the first time in ages. It’s a good feeling.

Pushing my Limits

In trying to write anything about this weekend, I feel like the blind men trying to describe the elephant (if you have no idea what I mean then google for it). So much has happened and there are so many aspects which I could write about here.

For me though looking back, I think the recurring theme has been one of testing my submission. I do not mean that Perrin has been testing me (although perhaps he has) but rather that I have sought to test myself. I was not aware of that consciously over the weekend, but in retrospect I see my own behaviour and requests, which Perrin has been kind enough to grant, have been trying to assess my own submission.

The first test, which was at my suggestion, was a test of pain. Not quantity (I have a very low pain threshold, I’m ok with that), but rather testing my ability to accept it. Having realised that my whipping the previous week had been entirely on my bottom, I had wondered if I would be able to accept without seeking to protect myself, if the blows were falling elsewhere. I requested (and received) a flogging with our horsehair flogger, which is the gentlest of weapons. Perrin had me stand, naked, legs apart and on tiptoe reaching up to grasp the beam in the ceiling, while he whipped my entire body. He kept the rhythm nice and slow and I felt really focused and happy, listening to my breathing, and feeling the pain move around my body. I had my eyes shut, so the location and timing of each blow was a surprise, I wasn’t brave enough to open them and face anticipation as well.

The next test,was unexpected, but has given me a chance to banish a few demons. On Saturday evening Perrin had me on the leash, and sitting at his feet. He let me up on the sofa to eat dinner, and when I expressed a desire to go back on the floor afterwards, he suggested “in a good way” that I should “think about why I was happy at his feet”. So I sat and I thought.

I think I realised, that I wanted very much to submit to Perrin, and I wanted very much to express that feeling. I also realised I wanted to give him all of me, and all my submission, and that’s where I found my demon.

I have said previously that Sam gave me a collar. I also asked him the same question I asked Perrin. “How should I show you when I am feeling submissive and need your attention?” Sam’s answer was “crawl to me, naked, with your collar in your teeth”.

Perhaps foolishly, I trusted in that answer. My relationship with Sam was falling apart, although I hadn’t really realised it. Our sex life was practically non-existent, and I found myself desperately hoping that I could get some kind of reaction. I remember sitting in the hall, naked, holding my collar, and wondering if I dared go through with it. Needless to say, I dared, and I was rejected. I remember the hurt, but no details, a memory too humiliating (in a bad way!) to face. A reaction that left me unable to even think about any of the bdsm activities we’d shared without feeling physically sick.

Sitting at Perrin’s feet, thinking about that; I realised that over time I have reclaimed my pleasure in those activities, but the memory of that crawl still haunted me, and I wanted then to drive that demon away, and give Perrin that act of submission. At my request Perrin uncollared me, and let me walk away collar in hand without explanation. I went and stood in our hall, again facing my fear. I put my collar between my teeth, and naked, crawled back to my Master, afraid to look up, knowing that rejection would break me, but acceptance would heal me.

As always, he surprised me. He took my collar, and held it in his hands regarding me. “Are you worthy to be my slave” he asked. What a hard question. How could I say yes, when I have so much to learn, how could I say no, when I need so much to be accepted.

I gave him the truest answer I could, “I will try my very best, Master”.

He was gentle, “I can’t ask for anything more”. He buckled my collar back around my neck, and I was his completely.

The last test for me, was also the simplest. I have always known that my submission includes accepting anal sex, but it has been years since I have done it, and it still always scares me. I have known however that it was inevitable, and that anticipation and fear has dogged me for the last few weeks.  Suddenly though, as Perrin curled up behind me on Monday morning, his penis pushing gently against me, I found myself ready to accept it. He let me go on top, allowing me to control the initial penetration. Once he was inside me, I found myself relax into it, and the feel of his cock sliding easily in and out of my ass as I rode him was such a delight, I wondered why I had been so resistant.

And so, unexpectedly, the weekend became a journey through my submission. Perrin’s love and caring has enabled me to enjoy an intense array of experiences. It has revealed too, directions yet untraveled, and further adventures to take. Who knows what will happen next? *grin*