I’m nervous as I sit with my Gin in the bar of the hotel, waiting for her text. I’m always nervous. Her last text, “I have the key” had sent a little spike of adrenaline through me, quickening my pulse. Adrenaline is not only a drug for prey; adrenaline is also the drug that gives the predator… Read More »
I recently read some posts from @Ferns_ a lifestyle Domme who writes explosively about her real and fantasized relationships. I find her writing thrillingly intense and it can trigger dark reciprocal fantasies. Anyone who can write this: “God, you are so beautiful, I want to tear you to pieces” is peddling strong medicine.
He sits across the aisle from me, displaying all the outer trappings of wealthy convention; a suit, good shirt with gold cufflinks and a smart leather briefcase open on the table. The carriage is mostly empty so he has four seats and a table to himself. I watch him from hooded eyes, pretending to be asleep because… Read More »
How on earth did I let this happen? On what planet could it possibly have seemed a good idea? I suppose the answer is that, when I suggested the upcoming session, I had just come through a prolonged caning from Mistress Elita, who had been in a particularly vicious mood. It had left me high as a… Read More »
The blindfold lets in no light. There is no imperfectly sealed corner through which I might glimpse something familiar or comforting. It’s been on since the moment I walked through the door of the basement apartment in response to the text. Just an address, a time and a two word instruction: “Be there.” How could… Read More »
Twenty four hard strokes in groups of six for both Mistress Elita and I. An unusual session to have with a dominatrix perhaps, but Elita occasionally likes to play hard games as a submissive. It was a lot. The bruises are still visible, though somewhat faded, a week later.
It’s his stance that worries me; makes me realise we are in trouble. It’s his stance that brings two weeks of anticipation and fear into immediate and sharp perspective. It is something in the way his feet, widely spaced, seem to be planted to the floor.
I have written quite a bit about anticipation; the delicious fear during the run-up to a challenging BDSM session and, just as delicious, the body’s reaction to it. At risk of turning my blog into amateur psychoanalysis of the worst kind; I think I know why this is almost a whole separate kink for me.
A hotel room. A man lies on the bed, naked, waiting. A woman walks in. She removes a cane from her bag. She beats him with it. Hard. She leaves. There is no contact other than the cane. No words are spoken.
I love this song for its louche, languid style, for its wail against the ennui of everyday life and the search for a counter to it. But mostly I love it because……. IT’S ABOUT ME!
He had been waiting outside the café in an un-gentrified part of South London for around 15 minutes, feeling self conscious in his business suit. It seemed a strange place for a meeting. Though the flags and dual language menus indicated the café was run by Poles, it clearly catered to typically English tastes. A… Read More »
The way the body responds to threats is controlled by ancient systems that developed when our ancestors had to be super-vigilant to avoid becoming lunch for early predators. Complex chemical and nervous pathways evolved that enhanced the ability to react to danger. Collectively these are known as the Fight or Flight response and I am… Read More »