Today I wanted to write a post about ‘touch’, and started off that way. Then I spotted that the Wicked Wednesday theme was ‘recollections’ so I binned the ‘touch’ idea and started to recollect key moments of BDSM that still held significance for me, flicking back through the ‘sessions’ category on the blog.
I’ve written this before but it still holds true. It’s quite possible that my principle kink is fear and that the pain is only there to make the fear real. The pain I experience ensures that, next time I book a session, I will be that little bit more nervous, be wound that little bit tighter and be flying that little bit higher on the adrenaline the memory of it forces through my veins.
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I know that in the eyes of many the things I write about here will seem morally reprehensible. A few weeks ago I paid a young women to let me tie her up and beat her with a cane. Where does that act stand morally? Before writing about what I did to Katie, what I did WITH Katie, last time we met, I’m going to delve into the murky moral questions it raises.
– I love marks –
– I hate marks –
I posted recently about how, when I’m between sessions and needy, my masochism can feel like a dark obsession. It can be quite alarming. Occasionally though, my masochistic responses during a session seem to come from that same dark place and I feel completely taken over by it.
At such times my masochism is all that I am.
A bit of nonsense, this. It started as an entry into the #Euphoff competition which looks for terrible sex writing, all full of awful euphemisms for body parts and sex acts. The only problem was I got to the allotted 500 words and realised that, while it passed the ‘terrible writing’ test it had neither a single sex act nor a single euphemisms! Not a good start. I decided to post it here anyway.
When I walked into Elita’s house for our session her friend Lilly was sat in a chair, all blond curls and red lips, looking up at me from slightly hooded eyes. Her nervousness showed in the tight wrap of her gown around her body, concealing her lingerie where a more confident escort might have emphasised it enticingly though an artful gap in the material.
It’s an old fantasy. I tweeted about it.
A beautiful, experienced Mistress. A pretty, young novice, eager to learn. A male sub, there for demonstration & practice. That would be hot, right?
I’ve no idea what’s behind it; a submissive’s fantasy of being used, perhaps, handing over my agency to two strong women. When Elita tweeted an introduction to Lilly, a beautiful friend wanting to learn about being a dominatrix, it was this old “Mistress In Training” fantasy that jumped into my mind.