My kinks are firmly kept in the closet, surrounded by the trappings of an outwardly vanilla life, a wife, kids, a job. Eroticon is at the weekend so obviously I can’t go! Or can I? If the stars remain in alignment I shall indeed be there, not for all of it, possibly not for much… Read More »
Back In December, and at my request, Elita made a mid-session threat that, should I not loose a set amount of weight by the end of January, she would introduce me to the established, if alarming, BDSM practise of ball busting. Being hit on my cock or balls has been a hard limit since almost… Read More »
Something had to happen. Having written about how my masochism had become a “black obsession stalking the soul” I needed to feed it; perhaps not the full meal of a long Domme/Sub session, but I had to give it a snack certainly. For many, many years the only way my kinks could be expressed was through self-inflicted… Read More »
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I knew I was in trouble when Elita stepped out of her heels. It is quite possible to deliver a serious caning using the wrist alone, especially if you have selected a suitably whippy cane. But to deliver a real beating, the whole torso comes into play, the power of the stroke coming from the turn of… Read More »
There really was no excuse for this. Overwhelmed by January’s relentless mundanity? Weeks, months even, of barely talking to my partner? Brexitrump? Perhaps I just needed to switch it all off and throw myself into a few hours of hedonistic pleasure. A couple of nice wins at poker provided the final impetus and the funds.