Fantasy: Tie and Tease

I am naked. Gently, she takes me in her arms. She holds me close, exploring my body. She starts with my hair, gently stroking it, Then my face, holding my cheeks and looking directly into my eyes, telling me that I am beautiful. Then her hands work slowly over my body, stroking, teasing, leaving me with goosebumps everywhere she touches. She intentionally stays well away from those parts of my anatomy that I am most desperate for her to touch.

Her hands move back up to my face again, and she lowers a blindfold over my eyes. Gently, her hands work their way down to my arms, and she slowly takes my wrists and ties them behind my back. She takes me by the hand and leads me into the unknown. I can feel that we have entered another room. It is colder, and the floor is not carpeted like the last. Suddenly, she pushes me backwards and I hit what feels like a soft, warm, cosy hammock. She maintains body contact, stroking my skin with one hand whilst she deftly moves around me, restraining all of my limbs until I am suspended and unable to move. My legs are wide open, and my head is held in place by my hair, which is tied into the swing. My hands are held high above my head, comfortable but out of the way. My head is fixed in such a way that I cannot hold avoid her glare as she removes the blindfold and looks me in the eyes: 'You know, you really are beautiful. I adore you. I want to give you something. Hold still'. She smirks. Of course I am going to hold still, what other choice do I have?

She carefully places the blindfold back over my eyes again. Then earplugs, and a ring gag. Leather mitts over my hands. A large vibrating dildo in my pussy. A smaller one in my arse. She briefly lifts the blindfold up. Her eyes have a mischievous twinkle, and she holds the poppers up to my face. I lip read as she waves and says 'goodnight, baby', before replacing the blindfold and encasing my whole head in a gas mask.

Shit. I have no idea where she is. My mind is clouded by waves of pleasure from what seems like constantly changing vibrations inside me. I suspect that there is something being fed through the gas mask, which is also making me light headed. I cannot focus on anything except for the overwhelming want for sexual contact of some kind. Desperate, desperate want. And there is nothing that I can do about it. I have no concept of time passing, but it feels like forever. I just want to be touched. I want to cry and shout because I am so desperate, but the occasional cloudy headedness is preventing even that.

Suddenly, my bonds are released. My legs are still held wide open, and my arms are still held up, but my body has hit a stone cold floor. A blow hits my side – it feels like it is from a boot. Then another. And another. Then out comes the flogger. It rains down on my flesh, focussing between my legs. It hurts. It really hurts. The continual buzzing inside me and the light-headedness make it difficult to fight back. I can't hear or see anything. I can't speak. I can't scream.

Out of nowhere, my mask is ripped off. My earplugs are torn off. A plastic cock is strapped in place through the ring gag. 'You stupid girl. You are so easy. Are you turned on?'

I can't speak through the gag. Even if I could, I am not sure that I could formulate words.

A slap across the face nearly brings me to tears. 'Are you turned on?'

I grunt in response. It is the best that I can do. Three slaps across the face.

'Look at you. Your legs are wide open. I can see everything. The wetness is everywhere. You are open to abuse. There you are, lying back like a queen, expecting to be pleasured.' She smears fluid across my face. Then, just to make the point, she spits on me. Then she hits me once, VERY hard, with the flogger, between my open legs.

'How desperate are you?'

I still can't answer. Another thwack with the flogger.

'I asked you a question. How desperate are you?'

I do my best to beg. It comes out as a whimper.

'I will take that lack of an answer to mean that you aren't. That you are such a slut that you spend your entire life this wet, just waiting to serve cock. That your shaking and back arching are not symptomatic in the slightest of you being desperate for me to hold this (she holds up the magic wand) against your clit and give you the most powerful orgasm of your life. No? Nothing to say at all?'

I let out a desperate wimper.

'I see. Well, seeing as you are incapable of giving me any clue as to what you might want, I guess I will just have to do what I want. What do you think I want?'

Now I am really scared.

'Hmmm. Let me think.' She starts pacing around the room, casting her eyes over various implements. She picks up a big kitchen knife, and looks it over. Then a scalpel. Then the crop. Eventually, she makes her decision. She picks up two sets of clover clamps, and attached one to each nipple and one to each of my labia. She pulls a latex glove over both of her hands. Then she starts to lube them up.

'There you are, lying back all comfortable, expecting me to pleasure you. Fine then, I will.' She balls her hands into fists. 'These are going in you. Both of them. At once.

She puts the mask back on. Suddenly, the cock in my mouth increases in size. I hadn't realised that it was inflatable. Now I am practically gagging on it, and I can't breathe through my mouth at all. She covers my face with a shirt – the unmistakable smell of poppers. 'That's right. You lie there, all incapacitated. Nothing you can do. No whimpering, no screaming. And if you have an orgasm from this, then that flogger will bite into your clit so hard that you won't be able to move for a week. This is not for you. I want to see you suffer.'

Starting with my pussy, she works her hand inside me. It feels amazing. My head is still all floaty, and I can't quite get enough air to be able to cope with the sensations. I begin to sob. She is relentless, pulling out only to allow her other hand into my arse. She keeps going. And going. And going. It hurts. It really hurts. I want to cum, but I know that I can't. Not without that stimulation on my clit. Or without her permission. I am in floods of tears.

Eventually, she has had enough. Unceremoniously, she unties me and leaves me in a heap on the floor. She throws the magic wand and he dildos at me. She grabs the chain between my nipples (OUCH) and pulls me up so that my face is close to hers. 'You do not stop wanking until I get back. I hope it hurts. The clamps stay on. I don't expect to hear anything from you. I don't really want to see your face right now.' She spits in my face, puts the earplugs and blindfold back on, and leaves me on the cold stone floor, legs still bound apart like a whore, unloved, silently, painfully masturbating in my pool of blood, sweat and tears.

The Vanilla Dominatrix

I originally intended to post this as a response to the comment of ourchangingviews on my last blog, but I feel that it is much better as an entry in its own right.

Her comment was as follows:

'I'm interested that you say you don't want a 24/7 relationship and yet you feel owned all the time. To me that is what 24/7 is: submission that may be called upon at any moment, although the level and protocol is dependent on the relationship.'

This is an interesting concept, because it is one which I think blurs the lines between a vanilla relationship and a d/s one. I can explain this through example.

Of late, I have been working very hard. Harder than I probably should. I was due to go away to work this weekend, and have been getting myself very stressed about it. By the end of last week, I was so stressed that I suddenly burst into tears on one occasion. When Lilith sat me down and asked me what was going on, it became clear to her that my working patterns were becoming too much for me. She suggested that I take the weekend off, but I was incredibly reluctant too because I felt that the work was important and needed doing. I consulted a friend, and she annoyingly agreed with Lilith. I was still reluctant, so Lilith put on her dominant shoes and told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to go this weekend, and that she would help me to talk to the people concerned so that I could get out of it. She has never done anything like this before, and we have spoken about the level of control that it is appropriate for her to have over 'my' life as a separate thing to 'our' life. However, in this instance, she was acting for the sake of my health. I suspect that any vanilla partner would have done the same if they were watching their loved one slowly self destruct, and I am extremely grateful to her for doing it. Was this act of domination made easier because of the dynamics of our relationship? I suspect so. Do I see it as an act of domination in the context of this blog? No, I don't think I do.

Equality and Submission

My last post was all about the way in which I am struggling to fulfill some of my sexual needs. This post is somewhat contradictory, since it surrounds the small gestures that ensure that my submissive needs are met on a day to day basis. Regardless of whatever else is going on, it is important to me that I feel submissive and owned. 

It is important to clarify at this point exactly what I mean when I say that I wish to feel 'submissive and owned.' Unlike some, I do not want a 24/7 power exchange dynamic. I love those intimate moments where I am able to let Lilith curl up and be a little girl in my lap just as much as I love being cared for and looked after. I often secretly refer to her as 'mine', since, as much as I feel that I want her to share in and contribute to my life, I would like to share hers too. I even go so far as putting a necklace around her neck to symbolise this. This equality, however, does not preclude my belonging to her in a d/s context at all times. She is naturally the dominant one, and it is therefore she who makes the rules. Its difficult to describe how this works, since it happens naturally - we don't have a rigid set of protocols (more on rules and protocols coming soon). However, we both know that I am hers.

In the absence of strict protocol, there are some subtle gestures that we use to reinforce the sense of ownership and belonging. Perhaps the most outwardly obvious is my collar - I have recently obtained a beautiful steel necklace which locks around my neck, and which I wear nearly all of the time. It is the smaller gestures, however, that have the greatest impact. A stare directed straight through me, to which my response is to lower my eyes. A tiny tug on, or stroke of, my collar. The phrase 'good girl', or 'I'm proud'. The unwritten expectation of a morning cup of tea. The statement 'well, be better' when I have done something wrong. With the exception of the collar, none of these things are particularly premeditated, but, small as they are, these gestures maintain my submissiveness through the driest of any dry spell.

The Dry Patch

Everyone has them. I am sure. Regardless of how much kinky shit a person gets up to, I am sure that everyone goes through patches where they just can't get it right. And I am also pretty sure that it is not through lack of trying - in my case it is definitely not. Which makes it all the more frustrating.

I feel like I am not getting satisfaction out of play at the moment. I am getting play, but it just isn't right. Things just aren't as mind-blowing as I know they can be. Its not that the play isn't as intense, or that I'm not trying new things, I just don't seem to be able to get myself into the right mindset to be able to relax into the experiences. Perhaps it is because I am suddenly feeling settled and secure and therefore don't feel the need to 'push the boat out', so to speak, in terms of making the effort. This is certainly true of my social life (which I also feel some regret about neglecting). This explains the large blank spot in my blog - I am seriously lacking material!

So what is the solution? I'm not sure. When this has happened in the past, I have just ridden the storm. But this has been going on for months now, and it is getting ridiculous. I am getting incredibly frustrated, and I end up getting angry with myself. Any ideas people?

The Strength of the Submissive

On the BDSM scene, it is not uncommon to hear submissives referred to as having incredible strength for their ability to trust their dominant and allow them to take charge of what is essentially, in some cases, their life. However, it seems that, when it comes to ‘vanilla’ life, being submissive is seen as a weak personality trait. Many people strive to be the alpha, to be in direct control of any situation that may get thrown their way. Even within the scene, most submissives that I have come across pride themselves on their dominant personalities within everyday life.

I do not agree with this. I strongly believe that it takes even more strength to be submissive in a vanilla context than within the more clear-cut roles of BDSM play/relationships. To be able to take on the ideas of others, to realise that they may have equal or greater potential than your own, to embrace them and to take the hits when they are wrong, all whilst maintaining your own integrity and self belief, takes a great deal of inner strength. To do this in the face of someone with whom you have a strong emotional connection can sometimes require even more resilience.

To explain this more fully, I have a couple of examples. The first comes from my Mum, who, in my eyes, is one of the strongest people I have come across. I am very lucky to have parents who, after 30 years of marriage, are still head over heels for each other. However, I think that I can attribute a lot of this to Mum’s approach. As a blind artist with a limited ability to read the emotions of others, Dad can be extremely demanding. There have been many occasions when I have watched Mum go to help him do something really simple, like cook dinner or help with his medication, and he has ended up angry and frustrated because something wasn’t done quite right. Rather than confront him while he is angry, making him stubborn and compounding the situation, Mum puts down whatever she is doing (she usually has a VERY long list), and simply tries again to get it right. Then, when he has calmed down, she talks to him about what has happened and conveys her feelings. I know that it is incredibly difficult for her to do this at times, and I am not saying that it is a technique that always succeeds, but I admire her hugely for being able to put his needs first in such a way.

The second example is more personal. Of late, I have been living in a household with two people who are essentially both trying to be ‘alpha’ (this may be a bone of contention to both of them when they read it, partly because the truth in this statement is debatable at times). I get on extremely well with them both, but often find myself caught in the middle of the struggle to be on top. I am trying to let them both work it out between themselves, sitting back and listening both to their arguments and the times when they are really getting on well, trying to give them the space that they need to work it out. I know that my role will fall into a slot that will be defined by how their relationship works out, and I need to let them work that out for themselves. In a sense, my fate is in their hands. I often have a strong urge to protect one or other of them from arguments that I can see coming a mile off, but I know that to do so would be damaging to them, which would, in turn, be damaging to my relationships with them both. It is not that I don’t air my feelings and opinions, but, like my Mum, I wait. Sometimes the wait is long, but I feel that it is worth it. Inside, I know that I have taken care of myself and ensured that my needs are met eventually, and that I don’t have to feel that I have in some way backed down. Equally, I have done my best to ensure that their needs have also been met.

It is all very well and good feeling strong inside. But I am increasingly getting the impression that people on the outside view me as weak willed, and this is making me start to question myself. Is it okay to be viewed as weak when you feel strong inside? Would accepting their opinion make me weak merely by removing my inner unquestioning strength? How far is too far when it comes to putting myself in the firing line, albeit temporarily? Does submission really equal strength, or is it just an excuse?

Fundamentally, I believe that since I am making a conscious decision to take this submissive approach, I am not weak willed. It is when I feel forced into taking such a stance (which has happened to me in the past) that submission becomes a weakness. Like many things, this is basically an extension of my kinky life – it is easy to sit back and let someone beat the shit out of you, but to choose to hand over that power to them to do whatever they will takes a huge amount of courage, self worth, personal integrity. Herein lies the strength of the submissive.

More on Being Little

More and more, I am finding that I want to regress into my newly discovered childish state. However, this is becoming less and less linked to sex/BDSM play. Instead, I find that I slip into this state when relaxed - it is a way of enabling me not to have to think or worry about any of the boring grown up stuff. A slightly unconventional form of stress relief, but one that I am keen to explore further.

A few weeks ago, I had a friend 'over to play'. That is exactly what we did. We simply let our inner children out. We coloured in, Mummy cooked us chicken nuggets and alphabetti spagetti and helped us to make chocolate brownies, and we make a den. Then we both curled up in Mummy's arms with our dummies and watched a film. The next day, I felt relaxed, recharged and ready for anything. 

Having allowed myself to do this once, I now feel able to let myself slip into little girl mode more often. In the past, I have felt guilty about landing all of the responsible stuff onto others and have stopped myself from regressing. However, I am now learning that, when the time is right, I don't need to feel guilty about it. I also am starting to worry less about having a responsible figure around. I am realising that it is okay to curl up on Lilith's lap and suck my thumb when she just wants to relax and watch TV. I don't need Mummy around to be little. In fact, recently, she and I were curled up by the fire on a blanket. As I regressed, I started sucking my thumb and realised that, in that moment, I would really like her join me in her little state. I have to admit, this confused me slightly as I definitely do not want to surrender my place as her little girl. But maybe, just maybe, we can work out how to do both?

Using roleplay in this manner (i.e. not in a sexual capacity) is something that never really occurred to me before. Indeed, I have come across very few people on the kink scene who openly broadcast that they do this kind of thing. But I hope that it can, and will, play a very valuable part of my everyday life from now on. There are not many people who are lucky enough to have found a way of excluding all thoughts of responsibility from their mind completely for an hour or two. 

There is a secondary motive behind all of this. One that negates all that I have said above. If I can learn to slip into a genuinely innocent childlike state, it will make the virgin sacrifice scene all the more fun ;)

***AN ADDITION***

Now that I think about it, I am not sure that I am a little girl. I was either a little boy or very tomboyish. Cue forthcoming post on genderbending ageplay...

West Of The Moon, East Of The Sun

The road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the road has gone

And I must follow if I can...

Pursuing it with eager feet until it joins some larger way,

And whither then? I cannot say.

Still 'round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate;

And though I oft' have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the moon, east of the sun.

J.R Tolkein.

It is now. A new feeling of security allows a new start. I am far more than I am allowing myself to be. Time to explore...

Ultraviolence

'Ultraviolence' is a term that seems to be banded about with increasing frequency within the scene. I have heard people say that it is becoming the 'fashionable' way to play - and not always without distain. More often than not, when ultraviolence is mentioned, my name is soon to follow. I do enjoy pain, and I love the fear and adrenaline that is associated with a vicious, bare-knuckled beating. Lilith plays on this, often appearing slightly maniacal. Very Clockwork Orange.  I have never referred to the way I play as ultraviolence myself. I feel that this description is a little narrow, and creates the impression of a one way interaction wherein the victim is helpless and weak, unable to contribute to the way in which the scene plays out. However, that is an aside. What is important here is that when people see Lilith and I play, quiet at one moment and teeth, fists, sticks, tears and blood flying at the next, it would not be unreasonable for them to compare it to 'the old UV'.

Following a recent event at which Lilith and I played, an observer (not formerly known to us) posted a blog on our play. They raised some interesting questions around our style of play, including: How did I, as the submissive, know that I wasn't being abused? How could she, as an observer, know whether it was OK and whether I was enjoying it or not? Is UV appropriate within a public play space?  The blog became quite widely read, and both Lilith and I posted our own responses to it. Rarely for such forums, it turned into a well balanced, informative debate. The organisers of the event therefore decided to invite Lilith and I to talk at a public forum on the topic of ultraviolence and public play, and to answer for ourselves some of the questions that were raised in the forum. 

The first thing that became obvious to me (and that I have suspected for a while) is that, as a 'hardcore masochist', I am a surprisingly rare breed. I have described the feelings that I get from pain before; the way it spreads across my entire body, rendering me incapable of thinking about anything else, hitting in waves that can sometimes be akin to orgasm. As I explained this, there were a few people nodding along and understanding. But there were far more who seemed not to understand how I could compare pain and pleasure this directly. In fact, it seemed that the level of pain that I had taken was one of the more controversial aspects of the play that was in question. This surprised me. 

The exhibitionism side of the play seemed much more widely understood by the crowd. Again, this surprised me. Until that point, I thought that I had encountered far more masochists than exhibitionists. The idea that the maniacal grin could excite me and add to the scene, although clearly not some peoples' 'thing', was accepted without much question.

The topic of abuse got people talking, particularly the question 'how do we, as a collective, define abuse?' It seemed that, having heard Lilith and I speak, people were ready to accept (and even to defend) the fact that, however abusive our play looks, it is actually a very precious part of a loving relationship. We also both pointed out that we both have experience of abusive relationships which, from the outside, probably looked very loving and caring. As an outsider, it is incredibly difficult to tell how a relationship works just by watching play. So what should one do if one suspects that the play that they are witnessing is abusive? The general consensus was that one should leave the players alone but talk to the DMs, who can then make a judgement based upon how well they know the players concerned. On one hand, I agree. I would be incredibly annoyed if someone tried to interrupt my play without good cause and without getting their facts straight first. I also feel that people should be trusted to look out for themselves - everyone has a brain that they are perfectly capable of using. On the other side, I know how easy it is to be manipulated. I wish that someone could have told me just how abusive my ex was when I was with him. 

One of the best things about the debate was the support that I felt we had from a wide range of people, regardless of whether or not they felt that 'our kink was their kink' or not. In general, people felt that, if they were to see us playing again, they would feel at ease that we were able to play in a public space, with all of the extra safety nets that that affords should something go wrong. Many said that they would probably leave the room, but others said that they couldn't wait to watch us play later in the evening. Which we did, with great gusto :)

A job well done by the kink community methinks. 

Discipline and Punishment

As part of my growing exploration of my inner submissive, I have recently realised that one of the things that I really crave from a dominant is discipline. I am quite competent at self disciplining, allowing myself treats when I have done something that I am proud of and getting incredibly angry with myself and making myself feel guilty when I don't. But the problem with self disciplining is that, when I am having a bad day or feeling lazy, it doesn't work. I am good at talking myself out of things and making excuses. I then get annoyed with myself, which makes me feel awful and creates a Catch 22 situation. So, a few weeks ago, I asked Lilith whether she would start to take on some small parts of my inner disciplinarian. I knew that I would probably try to bend the rules, finding where there can be wriggle room, but I also hoped that, with her in charge, the wriggle room would be limited and I wouldn't get away with my usual excuse-making tricks.

This isn't the first time that I have tried to do this with a partner. In the past, it has never worked. The rules have always been established on their terms, and I have rapidly grown to resent them. Consequently, I did everything I could to rebel against them, and always succeeded. The punishments that were delivered didn't phase me at all, and acted more as an encouragement than a deterrent. I really enjoyed being punished, be that physically or emotionally. It made me feel powerful - punishment was a signal that I had executed a successful rebellion. Although I was hoping that the same wouldn't apply this time, I was expecting it all to fall flat again.

Unlike previous attempts, all of my rules are set by myself following discussion with Lilith. They are pretty simple, and based around my life goals. I must ask permission before eating sweets or chocolate and do some form of exersize at least 3 times a week. Because these simple things are a) achievable and b) things that will directly benefit myself, I actually want to follow them. The first few weeks therefore went very well. But, as always, I eventually got to the point where I needed to test the boundaries and regain control through rebellion. So I sent a message saying that I wasn't going out for a run. Then, later, another requesting biscuits. The response was that I could only have biscuits if I had been for a run. I kept pushing, but Lilith stuck her ground and eventually I just ate them anyway, despite having not persuaded her to say yes. Quite a small thing, but rather significant in terms of shattering the dynamic of the relationship.

The reaction was strong, and pretty much what I expected. A restriction on communication (I was ignored for a period of about 12 hours) and a rather too large number of strokes with a strop (I HATE belts and strops with a passion, and not in the good way). In the past, I would have shrugged a punishment like this off easily, and I was expecting to do the same here. But it really got to me. I felt annoyed that I had broken our agreement, and I could feel that she was genuinely angry, which I really don't like. She was using the fact that my punishment was also impacting on her against me, and it worked. She asked me to try to stop myself floating off into masochistic space as she beat me, but rather to stay in the room and experience the pain as pain. In the past I would have ignored this, but in this case I really wanted to make right and tried incredibly hard to do this. I wasn't 100% successful, but that is not the point. I really genuinely wanted to show that I was accepting the punishment as punishment.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't enjoy the process. Not only did I enjoy the imposition of rules and boundaries, but I also enjoyed the emotional masochism. I am still not convinced that this will continue to act as a deterrent for a long period of time, because I know that I have the ability to enjoy it if I want to. However, I have also seen the other side - the much more effective, unpleasant side. I can now choose how this will go forward. Either I can take the whole thing as I have done before, do as I like and enjoy the punishments, which will ultimately ruin the dynamic that we have worked hard to create. Or I can do as I have already started to do. I recognise that I do not need to rebel because it doesn't benefit me. I know that I can't talk my way out of my rules, and I don't want to. And I know that punishment CAN be unpleasant, and that, by accepting it as genuine punishment rather than a reward, I can experience it in a way that I do not enjoy.

It frustrates me that I have to make this decision, but I think that it is unavoidable. Like anything in ds, if I wish for something to happen then I must consent to it. In this case, if I wish to experience discipline I must allow myself to be moulded by rules and punishments rather than to see them as a challenge to be beaten. I am rather worried that I won't be able to do it and will slip back into my old ways. But I know that I don't want to. And that I will want to be reminded of this blog and disciplined appropriately if I do!  

Loving the Dark Side

I am not a fan of organised religion (now there is a sentence that I never thought I would use to begin a kinky blogpost!). I find it forced and unnatural, and see it ultimately as a way in which those with power can control a population by manipulating their individual morals and beliefs. I do, however, believe that formal ritual can, and should, be used as a means of individual expression. I believe in myself and my ability to shape my own life, and I know that I can draw powerful emotions from things that are often viewed as spiritual. I think that I have already hinted at this slightly in a recent blog about nature and play. During my teens, I spent a lot of time developing some personal rituals. I seem to have stopped doing this now that I am older, but I miss them. They allowed me space and time for relaxation and self evaluation.


Within play, Lilith and I have been slowly incorporating some small rituals. They are all things that I have initiated and that feel natural to me, such as kneeling as my collar is put around my neck or being fed bacon and eggs on a Sunday morning. Like my teenage woodland fires and tree carvings, they relax me and make me feel secure in myself. Furthermore, they also cement the feeling of being owned that has been growing within me. I like my rituals.


Now, I am going to change tack a little here, but bear with me. If you are lucky, this may all make sense by the end. Understanding each other is a hugely important part of play. A scene during which I am put through hell and back is fun, and very hot, but a much simpler scene in which I can feel a subconcious exchange of thoughts and emotions is infinitely better in every way. When play works like this, it feels like a dance with power, where subtle changes in the eyes and well constructed sentences can totally alter the movements and the tone of the scene. Earlier this week, I stormed into Lilith's house in a foul mood after a long day at work. She knew that I needed to release some pent up aggression, and, simply by firmly grabbing my wrist, communicated that it was OK to do so. We wrestled, stopping every so often to stare at each other and try to work out the next move. By looking at me, she could tell that I hadn't let everything out yet and held me down, waiting for me to release some more anger. Very few words were said to each other throughout, but by subtle wording and small changes in body language, we were able to read each other and create an intense power exchange.


To summarise: I like rituals. I like play that engages my mind. I like to understand how my partner works and use this knowledge within play. All of these things enable me to feel a deep connection to both myself and my partner, which makes for a much more intense experience both physically and emotionally.


Thats the preamble over with. Time to get to the point. Last night was midsummer's night. It seemed an appropriate time for a ritualistic scene - one that bought together all of the above parameters to create something rather special. I was to be a virgin, sacrificed to Lilith's inner demon.


I was in little girl mode. Unmarked and pristine, wearing a long white flowing dress, I was led into the woods at sunset. I was happily skipping along, my inner child finding wonder in everything. I was led to a perfect circle of trees within a clearing (the location held a special resonance as it was somewhere that Lilith associated with her childhood). I was allowed to explore my surroundings, letting all of my childhood wonder come out...


Mummy had been looking after me and making me feel very special all night. She showed me a special tree, which she had chalked her symbol onto. It had a thick trunk and was growing level to the ground, so she showed me how good it  was for lying on. Then she said that she needed my help with a ritual, one that would help her to feel better, and that she needed to secure me to the tree so that I didn't fall off. She strapped me down so that I was lying with my belly on the tree trunk and it was really comfortable. Then she told me that she was going to have to go away for a bit while she went to get someone, and I got scared. She started talking to the trees and the sky, saying big long words that I didn't understand but that sounded very pretty. She said something about letting her demon come out and giving it what it wanted, and about giving me to it to 'sate' it (I didn't really get what that bit meant). I liked that she thought that I was important enough to give to someone, but it was still scary because I didn't know them. Then she disappeared suddenly behind me. When she came back, she had a different, scary voice and big scary eyes. I think she had turned into a scary evil man, because he started ripping the flesh off of my back. It really really hurt. He pulled it using sharp nails and teeth, and scratched it with a sharp rock. He said that he wanted my blood, and he showed me his finger with blood dripping down it. That was really scary because I felt like there was lots of blood all over my back. He wiped it on my face as well, and I couldn't stop him. Then, he pulled my skirt right up, and my pretty white dress got covered in blood. He didn't seem to care. He pushed something hard inside me between my legs. It felt good, but I didn't like him there because I knew he wasn't supposed to be there. I think I started crying. He told me that his evil seed had got inside my mummy and now he was going to put it in me as well. Then he took the hard thing out and put it back in my bottom. It really really hurt. I screamed and cried and it felt nasty. He was pushing the thing into me really fast and really hard and he was ripping my back with his nails at the same time. Then, suddenly, he said that he had got what he wanted and he collapsed onto my back. I felt like I had been left on my own, but Mummy came back for me. She hugged me and told me that he had gone now and wasn't coming back, and that she was proud  of me. She took me off of the tree and carried me away to sit in her lap. I felt really happy because I had done it for her, but I am still scared of the bad man and I was shaking for a long time.


I have written in such a childlike manner because that is how it felt at the time. I was able to lose myself totally in the role play of the ritual. Which is how it was presented to me. However, through a subtle piece of subliminal communication, we both knew that it wasn't 100% roleplay - everybody has their inner 'demons', and this was about releasing them. For me, innocence equates with vulnerability, and making myself vulnerable is a very difficult thing for me to do. I was very visibly giving myself to her by conciously making myself so fragile, and, in doing so, was fighting some of my own 'demons'. The ritual itself was about acknowledging some of the 'demons' that Lilith has within her, allowing her to connect with them and start to understand them. By giving myself to her for the ritual, I was able to show her that they are an accepted part of her and that they don't change the way I think of her. We managed to create something that was, on the surface, a bit of fun roleplay, but that allowed us to get in touch with our inner selves and each other. It was not only a wonderful, and very real, power exchange, but also a perfect ritual of self expression for a midsummer's night.

Submission and Dependence

I know that I have been blogging a lot around the theme of submission and ownership recently, but it is something that has, somewhat unexpectedly, been playing on my mind over the past few months.

The feeling of being owned is one that I crave and always have done. I have always distanced myself from responsibility for my own actions. When I was little, I would create imaginary characters who would look after me, discipline me, give me boundaries and make sure that I did the things that were best for me. I have now absorbed those characters into my own psychie, but they are still very much present. They make sure that I am happy, content and moving in the right direction in life, and they correct me when I'm not. If I am feeling down or tired, this ability is hindered and I start to feel lost and unmotivated in the absence of my self-set boundaries. So I do my best to maintain them as much as possible.

It is very rare that I feel able to 'submit' to a person, rather than just 'bottom'. For me, a major component of the submissive feeling that I crave is being able to hand over my own internal 'dominant' to someone else. This is a very dangerous thing to do, since my ability to self-manage in this way defines who I am in many ways. Once someone else has access to this, I become extremely vulnerable.

Even more problematic is the fact that it is just not possible for someone to fulfill the same role as  do myself. They would  need to know what I am doing and how I am feeling 24-7, and to micro-manage it. However, in order to fulfill my needs, I need to alow someone else to take the role of my self-regulator at least some of the time, for some aspects of my life. This means that I stop controlling myself so much, and the boundaries that I need to feel actually slacken. This is a particular problem when I am alone and tired, as this is when I need the boundaries the most. Without them, I feel lost, small, and my self confidence falls. I therefore become very clingy towards the dominant, whom I know is able to re-impose those boundaries. I have to control this clinginess because it is enough to drive anyone nuts, and therefore have a tendancy to isolate myself and become very introverted. This is also a mode of self-preservation - the idea of being that dependent on another to pick me up and reinstate the boundaries that I need is a) not clever and b) really scary.

What I really want is to have someone understand all of the little idiosyncracies within my mind - the ways in which I dominate myself from within, when and how I am strict with myself and how I motivate myself - and use them to form their own set of boundaries which will allow me to develop in a protected environment. Without the aid of telepathy and a person who is capable of doing this yet has no life of their own, this is impossible. I therefore need to find a balance between my own inner dominant and my external one; one that doesn't make me want to go and hibernate when I have had a tiring day. This is a problem that I have been trying to solve for around 5 years now, and it seems that the closer I get to finding what I want from someone else, the further I get from being able to balance that with my need for endless control.

I strongly suspect that this is a relatively uncommon problem, and I know that it is not easily rectified. I also suspect that, for those who don't know me well, this post made very little sense. But I would be very interested to hear from anyone who does empathise, and am very open to suggestions for dealing with this.    

'The Edge'

I'm hanging over 'The Edge', suspended by a climbing rope. My hand is over the carabina - a few last bits of myself holding onto the security of my cave on the hill. I'm getting closer and closer to letting go and allowing someone else to hold the rope secure. I know that they can let the rope slack at will. I'm terrified. But so SO full of want.

Bleed Me.

I seem to have a bit of a thing for nature at the moment. Outdoor fucking in the rain, being drowned in waterfalls, mud wrestling, rope bondage in flower meadows. I find the natural world incredibly empowering, and I think that it makes the perfect juxtaposition to my rapidly developing submissive self. I also love the 'back to basics' feeling that being outdoors gives me - It makes me very carnal and incredibly highly sexed. The simplicity of it helps me to let go, because I have nothing to worry about. Unlike the man - made world, nature doesn't judge. I don't feel separate from it. I can immerse myself in it, give into my senses and not think; I can just be. And my being me, stripped down to my gut feelings, totally lacking inhibitions and overwhelmingly empowered by being able to feel such, I am able to let go of myself completely. The writing that follows relates to these feelings. I am not going to call it a fantasy (although it is, as yet, completely fictitious) because the concept is far more special to me than wank fodder. It is deeply personal, and I apologise to anyone who should happen to read it in advance for ruining the wank fodder by loading it with my emotions!

As my clothes are stripped from me, I agree that I will surrender control of myself until the point at which they are returned to me. With this, I am washed and redressed, prevented from taking any active role in my preparation for the evening. I am put into a beautiful long white dress, floaty and lacey, that makes me feel elegant, powerful and at one with the world - like a Grecian goddess. A complete juxtaposition to what I believe may be about to happen to me. I remain barefoot, but a white silk blindfold is carefully placed across my eyes. I am then led outside by the hand.


It is a warm night, and the rain doesn't feel too cold against my face. In fact, it is the kind of warm rain that makes me feel powerful, full of awe for the natural world. I can see the bright shine of the moon through the blindfold, but am unable to make out much of where I am with my eyes. I can, however, piece together most of the setting. Beneath my feet, I feel long, wet grass. I can hear the gushing of a waterfall nearby. I can smell the way that the air is loaded with the power of an oncoming storm.
Suddenly, we stop walking. An instruction is whispered gently into my ear: 'Lean backwards, I'll support you'. I am lowered down so that I am lying against a cold, wet rock. It is surprisingly comfortable. My arms are lifted above my head and fixed in place with some cold metal manicles that are attached to the rock. My feet are fixed likewise, and I find that my body is stretched over the rock in such a way that I cannot move. The blindfold is removed, and the rain hits my eyes. The water on my face accentuates the inner feeling of power that is growing within me.
As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can make out the shapes of a circle of stunningly beautiful people surrounding me, dressed up in fantastical outfits. Although I recognise their faces and the sound of their laughter, I feel distant from them, empowered by something beyond their attention. Standing over me, she is absolutely stunning. Although the glint in her eyes expresses her absolute power, the grin that spreads across her face reveals her hidden loving side. And with that, I break into a grin too. Slowly, gently, she leans into my body and starts stroking it, never breaking eye contact with me. I shiver every time she makes contact with my skin.


When she knows that I was really sensitive to her touch, she pulls out a beautifully crafted flogger, made of heavy purple suede with a carved wooden handle. The wetness of my skin adds a slight sting to the thud of the first impact, and I instantly relax into the pain. She mixes a rhythmic beating with gentle strokes from her fingers, maintaining eye contact, watching as I slowly get high from the sensations. When she is satisfied that I have reached a state of deep euphoria, she steps back and deftly unmanicles my hands and feet. I do not move them, but stare, transfixed, as she pulls out a scalpel. I know what is coming, but, for once, I have no idea how it will feel. She strokes my hair, and then sets to work. I lay back, exposing my face and neck to the rain, relaxing and enjoying the sensation of the warm blood running down my leg and staining my dress. As my blood mixes with the rain, she licks a small bit of it and, with the metallic taste still on her tongue, deeply kisses me.
The people surrounding me are now closer, naked, and having sex on the floor around me. I am high and my head is floating as my girl spreads my legs and fucks me. She has my blood, and now she needs to claim my cum. She fucks me harder and harder, pushing me deeper and deeper into my floaty state. As I cum, she wraps her hand around my throat and whispers one word in my ear: 'Mine'. I am still drifting in my post orgasmic state as she lifts me down from the rock and, together, we entwine ourselves into the ongoing orgy.

Developing 'Little One'

A while ago, I posted this blog about the development of my inner 'little girl'. At that time, I was really just starting to discover how this would work for me, and since then my 'little one' has developed much further. All of the 'little girl' characteristics that are surpressed within my adult personality have been fused into the behaviours of 'little one', creating an alter-ego that I naturally slip into and out of.

I am still not quite settled on how old 'little one' is yet, but she is somewhere between 7 and 9. However, she is incredibly intelligent for her age, and therefore can be a bit of a smartarse. She likes to think that she is very grown up, and would never ever tell any of her friends that she still likes to curl up on her Mummy's lap with her dummy and teddy bear and drift off to sleep. She is a bit of a tomboy, and is incredibly impulsive; she desperately needs to learn to think through the consequences of her actions because she often gets herself into trouble. She HATES pink frilly things with a passion because they make her feel like a 2 year old, and she doesn't like it when people point out that she isn't really independent but reliant on her Mummy to choose her dresses for her. The only thing that 'little one' is really missing at the moment is a name, but that will come with time and as she develops further.

Until recently, I hadn't really spent any extended period of time in my 'little one' headspace (I use the word 'headspace' rather than 'role' because it is occurs far more naturally than  roleplay). I tended to dip in and out of it, sometimes more often than others. However, last weekend I spent far more time being little than being big. Being around two people to whom I was submitting made this very easy, and they helped to create the right atmosphere to allow me to do this in lots of very subtle ways. Quite often, I was talked over as plans were being made. They would talk to each other about me while I was still in the room, but not acknowledge that I was there. They would adopt a patronising tone of voice when talking to me occasionally. My response to this was to go very deeply into 'little one' mode, entertaining myself while the grown-ups were having boring conversations and getting stroppy when I didn't get my own way. Strangely, being 'little' also helps me to be submissive, and it meant that all of the play that happened was far more intense and fulfilling. When I was flogged, I was reduced to happy tears fairly quickly because I didn't feel the need to put up any physical or mental resistance to what was happening to me. I have said before that reaching this point where I don't want to resist is an incredibly special and powerful feeling, and it is something that I would like to happen far more often in my play. Both with and without the help of Little One. 

A Surprise

For a while now I have fantasised about being sexually used by a stranger, helpless to prevent it from happening. For some reason, I find the idea of being degraded in such a way and left in a useless wreck REALLY hot. Last weekend, my rape fantasy finally became a reality.

The rape was incredibly well set up, and I had absolutely no idea that it was coming. Lilith had taken me up to Manchester, and I was expecting to spend a dirty weekend with her and one of her friends whom I had not met before. On the first night we went out for a lovely meal, and, as I understood it, were going to head back to the hotel where her friend would meet us an hour or so later. Even as we opened the door to the hotel room, Lilith held conversation, giving away no clues that she knew that her friend was hidden behind the door, dressed in black, masked and gloved, and ready to grab hold of us both from behind as we stepped into the room. It was very sudden - I remember hearing her scream and then feeling her lying next to me as my face was pressed into the floor by the strange man. I can't remember the exact details of what happened next. I struggled a lot as the man tied my wrists behind my back and forced a hood over my head. 

I was totally disorientated when he held the knife to my throat, and it came as a bit of a shock. he leant right into me, and calmly asked 'Is there anyone else here apart from you two?'

'No.'

'Is your boyfriend here?'

'No.'

'Where is her boyfriend?'

'Not here.'

'Is he coming later?

'No.'

Seemingly satisfied, he pulled the knife away from my throat and started to move towards Lilith. I took the opportunity to try to get out of the wrist tie, but he was instantly right back in my face. 'There is an easy way or a hard way. You do as I say, or your friend gets hurt and then you do as I say.' To prove the point, he slapped her around the head. I heard her hit the floor, and then his footsteps slowly coming towards me. I didn't realise that he was close enough to grab my hair, so it came as a shock when he pulled my neck upwards and dragged me over to look at her, passed out on the floor, her hair lying in her own vomit. 

'You think I'm not serious about this? You see that? I. Don't. Care. She doesn't matter.' Then he pushed me backwards, and pulled out the knife. He held it inside my open mouth. 

'You know what an Italian Smile is?' I nodded. 'You answer wrong, and she gets one. Easy way or hard way?'

I had to give in really. 'Easy'. 

'Good.' He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the bedroom, burning my elbow and knee on the carpet as he went. 'Now stay there while I make sure she hasn't already choked on her own sick, and I'll ask her the same thing.' 

I heard his footsteps heading back towards her, and I faintly heard him talking quietly in her ear, but I couldn't make out what was said. Instead of waiting to find out I tried to manouvre myself into the bathroom, which I knew that I could lock myself into. I could have managed it, but I knew that, really, I didn't want to. So I waited, hidden behind the bathroom door. 

When he came in, he was dragging Lilith across the floor by her hair and she had a pained expression on her face. He threw her to the floor, and dragged me back into the room. He held the knife to the back of her calf; 'You try that again and I slice through all of her tendons. Got it?'

'Yes. Sorry.'

He went over to Lilith again. 'Where is your money?' She pointed to her handbag, and he emptied the contents across the floor, hitting her over the head in the process. Then he came back across to me, took his knife out, cut my clothes off and forced me over the end of the bed. 

'Right. Now you have a choice. Either you are good and take this, or you end up knocked out on the floor like your friend over there.'

So I lay still, listening to him take off his trousers behind me. He didn't take any time, he just thrust his (extremely large) cock inside me. HARD. And fast. His hand forcing my face into the pillow. And it felt AMAZING. 

When he was done, he made sure that my hands were secure behind my back, picked up a laptop and a purse and left. When he returned, he was unmasked and both he and Lilith were wearing huge grins. 

I had absolutely no idea that this was going to happen at all. However, as soon as I saw the masked stranger and heard Lilith's scream, I had worked out with about 90% confidence that it wasn't real (although the accidental vomit was a nice touch). And, as much as I enjoyed the initial fear, the knowledge that I was safe allowed me to relax into the experience. I would like to repeat this experience, trying to find a way to make me question my confidence just very slightly. Unfortunately, I have come very close to being raped for real in the past, and I therefore do know how I react in such a situation; with very cold, calm, emotionless logic. There were several times during this experience when my brain had come up with an escape plan (for example, heading for the bathroom), and I think that it would be difficult to get any other reaction out of me. But the beauty of that is that I knowingly and willingly surrendered to my rape. And I loved every minute of it.

Remedies to Shitty Times

As my last post may have implied, I have been rather down lately. However, I have been incredibly lucky to have been looked after by a very supportive group of friends, both kinky and vanilla. I have realised just how special some of these friends are to me, and how much of a support network I have in them. I think that, like kinky relationships, kinky friendships often gather momentum much more quickly than vanilla ones. One has to build up trust very quickly in a kinky friendship. I have known most of my kinky friends for less than a year, but, through watching them play and having them around as I play, I know how difficult it is for them to really hurt someone, how perceptive they can be of the feelings of other people and how ready they are to step in if they see something go wrong for someone. It seems that the open-minded mentality of the kink scene breeds loyalty within friends - I know that I don't have to worry about being judged. YKIOK (Your Kink Is OK) is a mentality that extends much deeper into such friendships, and I don't feel that I have to hide parts of myself that other people may not understand for fear of them not being accepted. I am incedibly lucky to have such people around, and I am extremely grateful for their support over the past few weeks. 

All of this support, combined with a rather large number of distractions and moments of escapism, have allowed me to relax a bit after the initial storm has blown over. Because of this, the past week has been the most fantastic of my kinky life to date and I have been spoilt rotten with surprises and pervery. I would like to write a very long account of all of it, but I suspect that that would be rather dull to read, so I am going to write several different blogposts about individual topics over the next few days...

Two Worlds Collided...

I wasn't sure whether I was going to publish this blog or not when I wrote it, because I am afraid that it could cause a lot of hurt. However, I write for myself, first and foremost, and writing helps me to organise my thoughts. Having written it, I realised that my blog would feel incomplete if I didn't include this - A blog should include life's positives and negatives.

Being able to trust someone with yourself is a fantastic feeling, and one that I believe is enhanced in kinky relationships. Knowing that I can trust someone to take me to a place where I have lost control of both my body and mind is incredibly special, and I have written before about the way that it is sometimes so powerful that it induces tears. 

Trust is built not only through kink play, but also through more mundance, everyday things - including truthfulness and reliability. Since the everyday things are what defines a relationship from a less serious affair, it follows that it is difficult to have a relationship that lacks trust on these basic, everyday levels, regardless of how much trust there is within play. There is also a knock-on effect - trust in everyday life helps to build trust in play, and vice versa. Kink and vanilla are mutually exclusive.

I am stating the obvious here, but broken trust hurts. This week, my trust has been broken. I don't want to go into specifics, but a somestic situation that required attentiuon was ignored, and lies were told in order to cover it up over a fairly lengthy period of time. Consequently, my family were drawn into financial debt, causing them a lot of distress. Money can always be earnt, that isn't the issue here. The problem is the lies, especially when the consequences for my family were already known. And this isn't the first time that such deception has caused problems.

Having my family drawn in hurts, because they are so important to me. I feel personally responsible for their pain because I was the one who was deceived. I have hurt them through my misplaced trust, and I feel incredibly guilty for that. In turn, I have damaged their trust in me.

The fact that the lies were allowed to continue until it got to this point is the most difficult thing to swallow. I trusted someone not to hurt me, and yet I got hurt. It feels a little like I have been taken advantage of, and I have been hugely betrayed. I am now questioning what else is not true. The fact that he had my best interests at heart felt solid and real, and now it feelsd like that solid, real thing has been ripped from under my feet and I don't know what is what anymore. I am now unsure of my interpretation  of everything that has happened over the past year - it is like someone has re-written reality without telling me. I had a panic attack when hje tried to stroke my face, because he had suddenly changed from something secure to someone who caused hurt. I now feel unsure of everything, particularly myself and my own judgement, and therefore feel a bit shallow and empty.

In all that I have just said, I have neglected one key variable - I love him. I know that the way in which I am reacting hurts him. I have had issues with trust in the past, and I am now starting to wonder how much of this is my fault. I am full of self doubt all of a sudden. I also worry that he thinks that this will come between him and our mutual friends, and this makes me think that he thinks that I don't care about him. Maybe this is a demonstration of my lack of faith? I know that I am the one with the power to make this all better, all I have to do is learn to trust him again. But I know that it just isn't that easy.

I don't know what to do now. Kink doesn't work without the 'nilla bits. Love without trust isn't enough. This is a huge turning point, and I am struggling to deal with it.

Discovering Submission

Every so often, something very magical happens when I play with Doc. It is something that, in my 5 years of kinky play before meeting him, I had never really experienced. With him, every time we play we go in on an almost equal footing - neither has absolute dominance over the other. However, with me being the masochist and him the sadist, and with him being physically much much stronger than myself, it doesn't take long before I am fighting to keep control. This fight is usually (but not always) physical, me struggling against his restraint until he can get me pinned down. Then he starts to hurt me. Mentally, I fight against the pain, not allowing it to break me. When I have played with others, this challenge has been enough. I enjoy the sensation of the pain and I can lose myself in it, even become a little floaty. I love this kind of play. However, with Doc, things go one step further. Eventually, I feel myself giving into the pain. My body goes limp, suddenly I give in. I allow him to control the pain, I stop fighting it and let him dictate everything that happens to my body - I put up no resistance. Feeling able to do this is one of the most exhilerating feelings there is. When it happens, I cry. Not the kind of tears where I am panting for breath, trying to fight through them, but the kind where I allow them to flow silently down my face. Tears of trust and love.

Play with Doc is, and always will be, special. I have not found anyone else who is able to give me this feeling of surrender following a fight, or who can control the endorphins that I feel with quite such an artistic flourish. I give up control of all of my physical senses when I play with him, and it is one of the most incredible, liberating feelings I know.

Before I discovered this, my experiences of giving up control have been in a submissive, rather than masochistic, context. They have consequently been a result of a definite decision rather than a subconcious reaction to a combination of endorphines and feeling safe. They have also felt somehow incomplete - my concious self has always been in control of the ways in which I give up control, and it has always been a logical process. As a result of this, I have always felt that my submissive self has been missing out on something. I want that feeling of naturally giving up control that I get from Doc, but in a different context. The exact feeling that I am referring to here is extremely difficult to explain, not least because I am not really sure of it myself. I think I mean that I want to give up control over what happens to me, rather than just my physical senses. To not have to think about or accept responsibility for what I want or what is happening at any moment in time, but to focus instead on someone else. Doc and I call this my 'uber-sub' side - it is definitely something that could happen to me naturally and that I crave. 

I have struggled a lot to feed this craving, and also to supress it. Initially, I wanted this dynamic to happen with Doc because I trusted him so much. But, firstly, he doesn't feel comfortable in that role and I don't think that it would work well within our relationship. Secondly, he is male, and, as hard as I try, I assume that, by choosing to be submissive to a man, I am making a stupid mistake that I have made once in the past. It makes me feel like a weak person. I have tried to rediscover my submissive self with a few other people (particularly Bunches), but, for one reason or another, it has either felt too forced and artificial (that bit about it being a logical process as opposed to a sunconcious decision), I have lacked the necessary trust, or I just have not been able to make myself feel submissive to that person. I had therefore decided that it wasn't really possible, at least not without causing hurt to myself or others.   

But, last week, something VERY surprising happened. I lay on a bed and let Lilith tie my wrists and ankles to a bed and flog me, without fighting her off. Initially, I thought that this would be the kind of play that I spoke about earlier, the kind where I enjoy the sensations of the pain that make me go all floaty. But then she accidently crossed a limit by catching my cheek with the tip of the flogger. Usually, this would make me go slightly crazy with panic and completely break down the scene. However, it didn't. Instead, and all within a split second, somewhere deep in my subconcious told me that I knew that I was safe and that she could do anything that she wanted to me. Without thinking about it or making a concious decision to do so, I gave up responsibility for myself. And I got the same reaction as I get with Doc - slow, gentle, freely flowing tears.

I should really point out that this revelation was not as sudden as I have just made it sound - the 'uber-sub' feeling has been building in me around Lilith for quite a while now. I think that this has been particularly aided by her ability to make me feel  'little', which gives me a new framework within which to feel safe and submissive. After the flogging, I spent a good few days around her and the submissive feeling, although not always obvious, was constantly present to some degree.

From here on in, I am in uncharted territory. Every time I play with Doc, the feeling of letting go and the associated tears get more and more intense, and the afterglow is more and more wonderful. With Lilith, I feel compelled to give up control in a completely different way, allowing her to make decisions for me and to assess what I need, feeling pain and humiliation as something that she controls rather than as a sensation for my own pleasure. I have no idea how these two very different dynamics are going to develop, but, scary as the latter (and newer) is, I can't wait to find out.

Being 'Little'

Roleplay has never been something that has interested me. I have always felt that, unless I really truly believed it and felt that it was *real* in some way (rather than being based upon a fictitious back story), then I would never truly be able to immerse myself in it enough to enjoy it. However, I have recently found myself slipping naturally into the kinds of roles that I never thought could work. Kitty, for example, has been coming out far more often recently, although still not to her full extent. And, even more surprising to me, I have started to develop a childish alter-ego...


I have always enjoyed playing the innocent and being 'corrupted'. However, until now, ageplay has felt a bit weird. Firstly, I have never really understood what the 'older' party gets out of it. Secondly, given that I am a very maternal person, I have always been scared that it would illicit maternal feelings in me. And, in a sexual context, that would disturb me hugely. I felt the same uncomfortable trepidation about kitty play once upon a time, but when the kitty character emerged it did so naturally and formed almost as an extension to my own character rather than as something that I had to focus on to create. The same thing applies here - my inner child is not twisted and paedophilic, but rather an extension of my own adult personality that accentuates some of my more childlike desires.


I first noticed 'little one' when I was lay in someone's arms, being cradled tightly, head held against her chest and legs tucked up in her arms, hair being stroked. I suddenly noticed that I felt not only very safe and comfortable, but also protected and, for some reason, reliant. I felt that I was hanging on to her every word, seeing her as a figure of authority and higher standing. That didn't mean that I didn't want to challenge her authority - it actually made me feel incredibly cheeky - but it changed the framework in which my cheekiness was portrayed. I rather enjoyed the feeling of being referred to as 'little' - it accentuated that new power dynamic whilst allowing me to be inquisitive and test the boundaries. I also enjoyed being told that 'being punished had to be bad, because that was the only way I would learn. It was for my own good.' Usually, I enjoy the approach of the evil sadist, but this was the total opposite to that. There was a juxtaposition between the loving demeanor and the threat of horrible, nasty things, and that messed with my head in a very good way. It threw me off guard and made it very difficult to argue and fight back in my usual style. I reverted to behaving like a stroppy child who accepts their punishment because they can see no other option, but who will throw a tantrum about it nevertheless.


All of this stemmed from about 5 minutes of downtime, during which time there was no play at all. The dynamic that was created was completely unplanned, and, to me, seemed to stem from nowhere. In the same way that my kitty character is specific to Doc, I think that the 'little one' is created as much by the person that I was with as by myself. That isn't to say that I couldn't do it with someone else, but I think that a new character would have to naturally emerge.


Like kitty, 'little one' is a different side to me and opens up new avenues for different kinds of play. Both roles are incredibly relaxing and very liberating, allowing me to let go of some of my inhibitions for a short period of time and focus on ther parts of me that I like the most. I have only really dabbled my toe in both roles and feel that there is *so much* more to explore in this area. But I have to fall into the characters naturally, which makes it incredibly difficult to plan. Hopefully, though, there is more to come!

Anticipation: The Follow Through

About two weeks ago, I wrote about the anticipation of having my hair cut as part of humiliation scene. Since then, the taunting has continued, with constant mentions of the words 'short', 'cut', 'snip' and anything else that is vaguely relevant. Bunches and Doc got tickets for the three of us to go to Surrender together, and I was convinced that it was going to happen there. But then, last week, the taunting stopped. I asked about it, and was told that it wasn't going to happen and they had just been winding me up. This news was met with an outward sense of relief with an inner, very hidden, feeling of disappointment. But I believed them, and I was glad that I didn't have to mentally prepare for losing my hair because I wasn't sure that I could go through with it. Ever since I wrote the first blog, people have been telling me that they don't want to see my hair cut and that I will lose my appeal without it, so I was very definitely having second thoughts. 

Last night, the three of us headed to Surrender, as planned. The hair cutting plan crossed my mind for a fleeting moment when Doc accused me of giving him a glare that 'cut right through him', but I dismissed it - I believed that it wasn't going to happen. I put a lot of effort into getting ready, creating a look that I hadn't really tried out before. I donned fishnet tights, shorts, a suit jacket, killer heels and bright red lipstick, and spent about half an hour trying to wrestle my hair into the perfect french plait, which I topped with a bowler hat. I felt sexy, confident and, bizarrely, slightly dominant. I was acting extremely bratty, and actually considered trying again to top someone. 

After a couple of drinks, Bunches grabbed my hand and tried to lead me to the playroom. I protested - I was desperate for the loo, so I said that I would meet her up there. She refused, and accompanied me to the toilet. I thought this was a little weird, but I didn't really question it. 

Once upstairs, Bunches sat me down in a corner with Doc with a drink. They both looked at me and made 'snip snip' gestures, but it still didn't cross my mind that they were planning to do it imminently. Doc decided that he wanted to do some rope with me, and Bunches disappeared while he tied me up. I was feeling fairly cantancerous, so I kept holding my hands in awkward positions and grabbing the rope. He played along, but it was at this point that I realised that there was something else brewing and that he and Bunches were up to something. I still didn't know what it was. It wasn't until my hands were inescapably tied above my head and Doc and Bunches looked me straight in the eyes, grinning at me, as Doc pulled out his cut throat razor that the realisation hit. I panicked, and started saying 'No, you can't do it now!'. They calmly replied 'Oh yes we can' and, with one swift movement, Doc had turned me so that the back of my head faced the rapidly growing audience, grabbed the end of my plait and sliced straight through it. I couldn't see it, but I heard it, and the noise was horrible - it sounded so brutal. I hit a state of total denial, disbelief and shock, and the adrenaline rush of it all went to my head. They took my plait out, and proceeded to brutally slice chunks out of it as they forced me to look at everyone who was watching. It felt like they were ctting the hair somewhere around the level of my ears! The reaction within me was very different to anything that I have ever experienced before - I went very giddy and giggly, and was struck speechless. I was getting high off of the fact that I now had no control over what they did at all - my inhibitions were ripped from me with my hair. I couldn't believe it was happening. At one point, Bunches made me watch the blade rip through a chunk of hair, which forced me to confront what was happening and accept it. I felt shocked and degraded, but this deepened the giggly, shocked state.

As the crowd gathered, they started cheering Doc and Bunches on, fueling my inner exhibitionist. They started making request, and from the background I heard someone yell 'shave it off!'. At this, Doc grabbed the nape of my neck and held the razor blade at the edge of my hair-line. He held it there for a couple of seconds before slowly moving it backwards. I could feel the blade catching the hair really close to my scalp, and when he moved it away a huge chunk of hair fell over my shoulder. I couldn't stop grinning and giggling, I was flying. 

Eventually, they decided that they had taken enough. Bunches forced me to look at the GIANT pile of hair on the floor, and whispered in my ear that Doc was going to let me down and they wanted to watch me clear up the pile of hair. When I was untied, I sat on the floor, stroking the pile of hair. I couldn't believe that it was my hair in my hands. I was completely speechless, and I couldn't stop stroking it. They told me to hurry up, and started hitting me with the Dragon's Tail (an implement that Doc always calls 'motivation'). I was hardly aware of what was going on when they eventually moved me away from the area to let someone else use it.

I spent the next hour or so walking around the club in a giggly daze. I kept feeling the back of my head and stroking my hair, in total disbelief that it happened. Doc then decided to play with me, and I was so emotional that I cried all the way through it. I felt so deeply loved, despite my mutilated hair, as he did it that I just couldn't stem the flow of tears. It was as though he was telling me how proud he was of me. I hit subspace so quicky and floated off through the endless tears, still giggling and high. 

Today, the first thing that I did was go and get my hair sorted out. The straggly long bits that Doc and Bunches left were deceptive - it is much shorter than I realised it would be. I feel naked without my hair, it is very strange. But I love it. The act of having my hair cut was so powerful it was more than worth the new hair cut, which, once I get used to, I am sure that I will love. I have been told that it suits me and I look cute, but it is not what it looks like that matters :-) 



An Afterthought:
I was recently asked whether I have now started to look for 'The Edge' again. The hair cutting scene was exactly that. It was something that I chose to do because I could. It served no purpose other than for me to broaden my list of things that I have experienced. It was uncharted territory for me. It was a fairly spontaneous decision, and it made me happy. It gave me the buzz that I often used to get from trying something knew and not worrying what people might think of me because of it. Have I got my mojo back?

Being an Attention Slut

Last weekend I felt a little bit like a small child who has been given a suitcase full of money to spend in the world's largest sweet shop. I was incredibly greedy and indulged in rather a lot of very fun play. It has taken me a week to get around to writing about it - I would like to write about it all, but I just don't have the time or energy to cover everything! I am therefore going to focus on one of  my biggest kinks - exhibitionism. I have wanted to write about my exhibitionist streak for a while because it is something that I really enjoy and is one of my most prominent fetishes, and now I have the perfect opportunity to!

I have recently started playing with a very hot girl known as Lilith. We are finding out that a lot of our kinks are very similar, most noticeably the fact that we are both massive exhibitionists and thrive off of attention. Last Friday, we went to Pedestal together with a large crowd of friends. Since Pedestal is a predominantly heterosexual F/m club with heavy tones of protocol driven D/s play, we were going to stand out from the masses regardless. Which was just fine with us. I think the gentle playfighting at the beginning of the evening went fairly unnoticed as the place was still pretty empty. There was some rope play and a really good flogging, which felt fairly private at the time but which was followed by a steady stream of people expressing their awe at my masochism, which was nice and ego-boosting. I was therefore already fairly hyped up on endorphines as I sat at her feet and we discussed who would win in a fight. She seemed pretty confident that she could easily overpower me. If I was honest, I would have admitted defeat at that point - I was feeling fairly weak and feeble after the heavy beating. But I couldn't just let her win the argument, so I fought my corner. Having already been fairly thoroughly battered, I was pretty sure that the argument would remain verbal. Until she grabbed my collar and pulled me up to my feet, and slowly pulled on her leather biker gloves with big, metal knuckles. SHIT, thought I. But I sure as hell wasn't going to let her win. OK, so she is three times my strength and knows that I turn to jelly when she bites me, but I still fought. We attracted quite a crowd, many of whom had clearly not seen this type of play before. There were lots of gasps of 'is she OK?' and 'can she really do that?' as her fists hit various limbs. My mind was focussed on the fact that I was being completely overpowered and was slightly scared of the metal knuckledusters (only a slight exaggeration), but hearing the gasps in the background and seeing glimpses of faces between blows made that adrenaline rush doubly intense. Strangely, it also gave me a bit of a power rush, knowing that what I was doing could captivate an audience in such a way. That drove me to take more, to keep going and to keep trying to win (even though it was pretty futile (which, in itself, was very hot)). Afterwards, when I had recovered, we had several people approach us and say that they found it really sexy to watch, which made me smile and gave me a smug feeling. I like this kind of retrospective attention just as much as I enjoy an audience for play - it gives me the same power rush, accompanied by a feeling of pride in myself and, more importantly, in my play partner. It makes me feel attractive and noticed, which is an amazing feeling.

The following day, we both indulged our inner exhibitionists again, but in a very different way. Having stayed at Lilith's after Pedestal I had no outfit to wear to a party that evening, so she kindly lent me a stunning latex dress. With hideous matching frilly knickers. Which she made me wear. In the car, I threatened (for the twentieth time) to take them off. Her response to this was 'Well, if you take them off then I will have no choice but to drive you to a dogging site, bend you over the bonnet and spank you. Are you going to take them off?' 

I didn't reply.

So, needless to say, we drove to a secluded wood where, in front of a crowd of strange men, she bent me over the bonnet and spanked me. This time, the attention felt less like adoration and applause and more wank fodder. But it got a very similar reaction out of me. The fact that I was receiving this type of attention made me feel sexually degraded, which is a huge turn on. But it also gave me a power rush, knowing that these people were looking at me. I didn't look at them because my head was hung in embarrassed shame, but secretly I was getting such a buzz from the whole thing. 

I'm not sure why I thrive off of attention quite so much as I do, but I do know that, in general, play of any kind is better with an audience. It makes the high so much higher and the adrenaline rush all the more intense. It is definitely something to indulge in more often, particularly in the fashion that I did over the Pedestal weekend! 

The Confusing Dynamics of Control (A.K.A My Attempts to be On Top)

This weekend, I have switched between many different facets of my kinky personality. On Friday night, I was a slightly pushy submissive. On Saturday, I was trying to be uber - sub, and I went into a very deep, personal space in which I am a toy who does not move or speak without being asked to first. I then switched into brat mode, playing up and trying to get as much attention as possible, desperate to pick a fight with Doc. I also had a brief moment of wanting to be controlled by someone but not quite giving up my defenses, feeling that I had to maintain control of the situation even though I was essentially taking the role of 'bottom'. On Sunday, I took on a role somewhere between domme and sub - I was acting in a fairly dominant way towards someone under the watchful eye of Doc, who I knew could take control instantly if and when he wanted to. I am very comfortable with the first three scenarios, and am happy to flit between them fairly nonchalantly to a certain extent. The latter two situations are far newer to me - they require me to be in a very unfamiliar top/domme headspace.

Taking the dominant role is something that I have wanted to try for a while. I quite frequently find myself thinking up scenarios that could work, or wanting to say things or look at people in a certain way to make them feel submissive to me. Although neither of the things that happened this weekend saw me being totally in charge, I still felt that I was taking on this new role. At the time, it was fun. It wasn't amazingly mind blowing, but it kept me amused despite a slightly nagging feeling of wishing that I was in the submissive shoes. Weirdly, it was also a completely asexual experience for me. When I am submissive, I get horny. I don't necessarily need sex because pain, humiliation, etc tend to spark a sexual response in me anyway. But as a top, I didn't feel horny in the slightest. I could have got a similar response in myself from completing a logic puzzle.

The aftermath of my attempts at dominance, however, were extremely intense. Since Sunday evening, I have been struck with a really deep sense of self loathing. I have felt angry and frustrated, and have repeatedly lost my temper at the smallest, most insignificant things. I have wanted to cry for no reason, and felt feeble and pathetic. I thought that I was having a funny five minutes, until Doc pointed out that this was EXACTLY how I felt last time I decided to try to top anyone. It seems to be the way that I react to being given control over someone, and I do not like it.

I am now desperately trying to understand this reaction, but I just can't get my head around it. Bunches has suggested to me that I somehow disengage from my sexuality when I top. However, I have never felt any kind of sexual dynamic with anyone without an accompanying feeling of giving up control on my part. So how can I disengage with a sexuality that I never had in the first place? Perhaps I am only able to engage with my sexuality when I am feeling submissive? But then why would that make me so angry and depressed when I take the opposite role?

Right now, I feel that I need to be forced into a very deeply submissive place - so deep that I end up in tears. For some reason, I feel that this will put the world the right way up again. But my mentality is far to fragile to do that today. Catch 22. I guess I just need to wait for this feeling to wear off. I just wish I understood it.