On CollarMe a lot of people post in the forums or put in their profile that they are willing to 'train' subs and slaves, either on behalf on their existing Dominant, or just to better prepare them for future relationships. Which, obviously, is bollocks, because how on earth can someone else teach you what pleases your Master or Mistress? How can some stranger teach me how Husband likes his steak/blowjobs/coffee/whatever? And surely a dom would want to train their own sub - isn't that part of the fun?
Y'know, if I were a cynical person, I might think this 'slave training' is just a way to get naive newcomers to put out under pretense of helping them.
However the prevalence of these profiles has convinced me that there must be a market for it, and I don't want to miss out. Therefore, I have drafted the following syllabus for my slave training 101 course. To sign up, just send me an amazon giftcard/western union money transfer/expensive gift and a message telling me how unworthy you are.
Unit One: Oral Sex
1.1: On your knees bitch
1.2: The tongue: not just for tasting
1.3: Enthusiastic Noises
1.4: Advanced breathing techniques
1.5: What to do with ejaculate
Assessed by: Ongoing observation, Practical examination
Unit Two: How to Dress
2.1: Underwear, and why not to wear it
2.2: Leather, latex and love
2.3: How to slut it up in public
2.4: Things you can attach to nipples
2.5: Mowing the lawn in high heels
Assessed by: photographic portfolio, ongoing observation
Unit Three: All About Ass
3.1: Bend over baby
3.2: Yes it will fit
3.3: Plugs for beginners
3.4: Rimming and related activities
3.5: Appropriate booty shaking
Assessed by: practical examination
Unit Four: Punishment
4.1: Oh you're such a slut bend over this instant
4.2: Writing lines and kneeling on rice
4.3: Receiving beatings - by hand and with implements
4.4: Showing how hardcore you are by taking more than the sub playing in the next room
4.5: Suitably humiliating yourself over webcam
Assessed by: Practical examination, submission of written work
Unit Five: Being a True Submissive
5.1: Slashy typing and third person speech
5.2: Intermediate kneeling
5.3: The bum-tit-tit dance and assuming positions whenever entering the room
5.4: Leashes in public
5.5: How to forget everything you know about relationships as soon as someone declares themselves dominant
Assessed by: Written work, ongoing observation, evidence of posts on the internet telling people how real subs do it.
ALSO, sign up now and I'll throw in my free one-day workshop entitled 'Cock Shots - don't all women love them?'
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Thursday, 23 August 2012
Dirty Weekend - the New Toy
Before I begin:
I debated whether to post about the sex, because I don't want this blog to become all about the sex, since there's a lot more to this whole D/s thing than that. Then again, for us the sex is an important (and lovely) part of it, so by not discussing it I might make it seem less important than it is. After all, we both get a lot of things from D/s, but neither of us would ever have started down the path to begin with if it didn't turn us on. And if you think the sex-talk is tacky, here's my excuse. 'I want to see you write more about sex,' says Husband. 'I like that.' And what Master wants, right?
Since I described my first experience with the cane (which as you will see has become a go-to implement in our household) I figured I'd also let you know about my first go with our newest toy, the mindfold.
We've had blindfolds before but never given them much use. This is because they don't really work. I can usually see around the edges or it slides off my face and spoils it. We had long since abandoned the idea. But the mindfold advertises 'complete darkness with your eyes open' and you know what? It really is.
We were just messing around in his study when we put it on me - I was kneeling at his feet and we just wanted to see what it was like. 'You can't see anything at all?'
'Right,' I said, and at that he got up and walked out of the room.
I called after him and got no response and so I waited. I wasn't really sure what he expected me to do - did he want me to leave it on, or had he lost interest? Was this some kind of test to see if I would wait for his return or was he thinking nothing of the sort and just going to get a drink?
I decided to leave it in place - better to be over-cautious than to risk disappointing him. It's amazing how suddenly vulnerable you feel when you can't see. I waited and waited. I shifted my weight around. I listened very hard. After a few minutes I was getting impatient and wanted to look, so it became an exercise in self-control. I became convinced that he was standing very close to me, just watching me, which made me very self-conscious about how I was holding myself, and I was straining to listen for the sounds of footsteps or breathing to give me a clue where he was.
I think I was there for about fifteen minutes - it felt like hours.
Finally he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me up to my feet. He put me against the wall in his preferred spot and I automatically put my hands up flat against the wall as he likes. Most beatings are administered hands against the wall - he doesn't like to 'make it easy' for me by lying me over something. Despite my best efforts I nearly always twist and jump out of position following a hard stroke (and often in anticipation of one, luckily Husband is careful and has quick enough reactions that I've never been injured this way). I've often begged to be restrained before a whipping, but he rarely does because he loves to see me struggle to obey and keep still, and to watch me reluctantly get back into position for him to continue. This time I didn't even ask, I just whimpered like a scared animal.
He gave me a few short but firm smacks across the ass with something hard and stingy as I fought very hard to stay where I was put. He changed it for another hard implement - he still won't tell me what he was using, though I suspect a wooden spoon was involved - and gave me a few more quick whacks until I was dancing around. I tried to get out of his reach and he pulled me back by my hair to finish up with a few open handed slaps which were hard enough to almost knock me off balance. Then he stopped and turned me around, the pain now receding with a rush of adrenaline and arousal.
He ran something over my hips and up my waist. 'Ah that's cold!'
'Yes, it's metal.' He circled it around my nipple and I stood, trembling. My nipples are incredibly sensitive, and nothing scares me more right now that pain to them. The object hovered over the right nipple and then began to crush and pinch it as I hissed with pain and rose onto my tiptoes. He stopped just before the pain became unbearable.
He took me upstairs - itself an exercise in trust when you can't see and put me on my back on the bed. 'Hands behind your head.' This is always an order I dread because it invariably means pain to my poor tortured breasts. I complied. He ordered me to open my legs, and he got the cane (this implement at least is unmistakable, even when blindfolded). He gave me a series of very fast strokes to the inside of my thighs. He's never done that before and it was like nothing I had felt. The first one or two didn't seem too bad as they weren't that hard, but very quickly the pain built up, one wave layering over the next with no chance to process the sensation or recover. It was a hot, fiery, crackly type of pain that soon overwhelmed me. Several times he paused to let me regain myself, only to put me off guard by giving me a sharp stroke or slap across the pussy before returning to my legs. Each time it felt like he was taking me almost to the point that I couldn't stand it and then backing away.
Until he stopped caning my thighs and turned his attention to my breasts. Rather than the short fast strokes here he gave me single hits, giving me the chance to dread each one. About the fourth stroke was directly across my nipples. It was agonising. I doubled my whole body over, unable to keep myself in position.
'I'm sorry,' I whispered and I felt the tears start to flow as he finally pushed me over that edge. He whispered reassurances into my ear, how he didn't expect me to take the suffering stoically, how I was his... After that it gets a little blurry. I'm honestly not sure if he hurt me more past that point (is this the sub-space everyone talks about?). Then he fucked me. My whole body was raw from the pain and my heart was pounding and I was crying and shaking and he took me so hard I felt like he would rip me in two. And it was amazing. I came hard right away and many, many times after that.
Once it was done I lay shivering in his arms, wanting desperately to say something but struggling to form the thoughts into words. After I had calmed down I could still feel the heat and pleasure in my body for the rest of the night. Wow. Oh, and he had to turn the lights off! The blindfold did its job so well the dim bedroom lights were unbearable once I took it off.
So umm... not exactly a review, but yep, we liked the mindfold.
Bonus confession:
High-Rise Sex
I had requested a room on the highest floor available for our stay. The hotel is fairly modern with floor to ceiling windows in every room which were that shiny type of glass which looks dark from the outside. Once we checked in, we admired the view and then did what any self-respecting couple would do next - we did it right in front of the windows. Certainly we couldn't be seen through that tinted glass anyway. You don't need to know the intimate details but suffice to say I spent an extended period on my knees in front of those windows.
Later that night we returned from dinner and looked up. The lights from the occupied hotel rooms were very bright from outside, and we could very clearly see people walking around...
If you happened to be in Birmingham on Saturday night, and saw a couple going at it through the hotel windows... it wasn't us, honest!
I debated whether to post about the sex, because I don't want this blog to become all about the sex, since there's a lot more to this whole D/s thing than that. Then again, for us the sex is an important (and lovely) part of it, so by not discussing it I might make it seem less important than it is. After all, we both get a lot of things from D/s, but neither of us would ever have started down the path to begin with if it didn't turn us on. And if you think the sex-talk is tacky, here's my excuse. 'I want to see you write more about sex,' says Husband. 'I like that.' And what Master wants, right?
Since I described my first experience with the cane (which as you will see has become a go-to implement in our household) I figured I'd also let you know about my first go with our newest toy, the mindfold.
We've had blindfolds before but never given them much use. This is because they don't really work. I can usually see around the edges or it slides off my face and spoils it. We had long since abandoned the idea. But the mindfold advertises 'complete darkness with your eyes open' and you know what? It really is.
We were just messing around in his study when we put it on me - I was kneeling at his feet and we just wanted to see what it was like. 'You can't see anything at all?'
'Right,' I said, and at that he got up and walked out of the room.
I called after him and got no response and so I waited. I wasn't really sure what he expected me to do - did he want me to leave it on, or had he lost interest? Was this some kind of test to see if I would wait for his return or was he thinking nothing of the sort and just going to get a drink?
I decided to leave it in place - better to be over-cautious than to risk disappointing him. It's amazing how suddenly vulnerable you feel when you can't see. I waited and waited. I shifted my weight around. I listened very hard. After a few minutes I was getting impatient and wanted to look, so it became an exercise in self-control. I became convinced that he was standing very close to me, just watching me, which made me very self-conscious about how I was holding myself, and I was straining to listen for the sounds of footsteps or breathing to give me a clue where he was.
I think I was there for about fifteen minutes - it felt like hours.
Finally he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me up to my feet. He put me against the wall in his preferred spot and I automatically put my hands up flat against the wall as he likes. Most beatings are administered hands against the wall - he doesn't like to 'make it easy' for me by lying me over something. Despite my best efforts I nearly always twist and jump out of position following a hard stroke (and often in anticipation of one, luckily Husband is careful and has quick enough reactions that I've never been injured this way). I've often begged to be restrained before a whipping, but he rarely does because he loves to see me struggle to obey and keep still, and to watch me reluctantly get back into position for him to continue. This time I didn't even ask, I just whimpered like a scared animal.
He gave me a few short but firm smacks across the ass with something hard and stingy as I fought very hard to stay where I was put. He changed it for another hard implement - he still won't tell me what he was using, though I suspect a wooden spoon was involved - and gave me a few more quick whacks until I was dancing around. I tried to get out of his reach and he pulled me back by my hair to finish up with a few open handed slaps which were hard enough to almost knock me off balance. Then he stopped and turned me around, the pain now receding with a rush of adrenaline and arousal.
He ran something over my hips and up my waist. 'Ah that's cold!'
'Yes, it's metal.' He circled it around my nipple and I stood, trembling. My nipples are incredibly sensitive, and nothing scares me more right now that pain to them. The object hovered over the right nipple and then began to crush and pinch it as I hissed with pain and rose onto my tiptoes. He stopped just before the pain became unbearable.
He took me upstairs - itself an exercise in trust when you can't see and put me on my back on the bed. 'Hands behind your head.' This is always an order I dread because it invariably means pain to my poor tortured breasts. I complied. He ordered me to open my legs, and he got the cane (this implement at least is unmistakable, even when blindfolded). He gave me a series of very fast strokes to the inside of my thighs. He's never done that before and it was like nothing I had felt. The first one or two didn't seem too bad as they weren't that hard, but very quickly the pain built up, one wave layering over the next with no chance to process the sensation or recover. It was a hot, fiery, crackly type of pain that soon overwhelmed me. Several times he paused to let me regain myself, only to put me off guard by giving me a sharp stroke or slap across the pussy before returning to my legs. Each time it felt like he was taking me almost to the point that I couldn't stand it and then backing away.
Until he stopped caning my thighs and turned his attention to my breasts. Rather than the short fast strokes here he gave me single hits, giving me the chance to dread each one. About the fourth stroke was directly across my nipples. It was agonising. I doubled my whole body over, unable to keep myself in position.
'I'm sorry,' I whispered and I felt the tears start to flow as he finally pushed me over that edge. He whispered reassurances into my ear, how he didn't expect me to take the suffering stoically, how I was his... After that it gets a little blurry. I'm honestly not sure if he hurt me more past that point (is this the sub-space everyone talks about?). Then he fucked me. My whole body was raw from the pain and my heart was pounding and I was crying and shaking and he took me so hard I felt like he would rip me in two. And it was amazing. I came hard right away and many, many times after that.
Once it was done I lay shivering in his arms, wanting desperately to say something but struggling to form the thoughts into words. After I had calmed down I could still feel the heat and pleasure in my body for the rest of the night. Wow. Oh, and he had to turn the lights off! The blindfold did its job so well the dim bedroom lights were unbearable once I took it off.
So umm... not exactly a review, but yep, we liked the mindfold.
Bonus confession:
High-Rise Sex
I had requested a room on the highest floor available for our stay. The hotel is fairly modern with floor to ceiling windows in every room which were that shiny type of glass which looks dark from the outside. Once we checked in, we admired the view and then did what any self-respecting couple would do next - we did it right in front of the windows. Certainly we couldn't be seen through that tinted glass anyway. You don't need to know the intimate details but suffice to say I spent an extended period on my knees in front of those windows.
Later that night we returned from dinner and looked up. The lights from the occupied hotel rooms were very bright from outside, and we could very clearly see people walking around...
If you happened to be in Birmingham on Saturday night, and saw a couple going at it through the hotel windows... it wasn't us, honest!
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
First Kink Event - The Bizarre Bazaar
Child deposited with grandparents?
Check.
New underwear?
Check.
Outrageously expensive room service?
Check.
Husband and I were long overdue for some serious alone time, and so this weekend we booked ourselves into a hotel in Birmingham to 'reconnect', so to speak. We've been wanting to check out the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar for some time so this was a perfect opportunity.
We've never been to any kind of kink community event before, for a few reasons. We're both pretty shy at the best of times, and certainly neither of us are all that comfortable with dressing up in fetish gear in public (in all honesty, we don't even do that in private, it's just not us). But curiosity is a powerful motivator, and by all accounts the bazaar is a very low-pressure event.
We went in our regular street clothes, and at a guess about half of the other guests did as well, with the rest in some degree of kinky clothing, ranging from revealing clubwear to full-body latex, adult baby to sissy maid to elaborate puppy outfits. It was awesome to see people rocking so many different things, and it was clear that people were having a great time just being out and about in an environment where they could be whatever they wanted to be without judgment.
The fact that the bazaar is a market made it less threatening for newbies like us. Rather than having to interact and chat to people as you would at a munch, we were focused on the shopping so there was no awkwardness. There were a few toys which caught our eyes but we didn't want to take anything too big back on the train. We did, however, buy a Mindfold (don't worry, it's a work-safe amazon link), which is the best blindfold we've come across by miles.
To top the visit off we saw our very first demo, which was on the subject of 'erotic impact'. His Lordship isn't a particular fan of sensation play, and generally doesn't get excited by any kind of impact not designed to cause pain. This was perhaps why he looked politely unimpressed through the demos of horsehair floggers, but his eyes lit up when they got out a carriage whip (we're getting one of those, apparently). He must have been paying close attention though, since I've definitely noticed him experimenting with some new techniques.
We didn't stay for the after party, and to be honest watching the demo confirmed for me that I am not ready for public play and possibly never will be. Whilst it's always good to learn from others, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching something terribly intimate, and I couldn't feel entirely comfortable with it. I don't know how I expected to feel really, but I certainly knew I would not want to be on display as she was. So that's an issue of mine I may need to look at.
Anyway - in conclusion, it was well worth a visit and curiosity was well rewarded.
Check.
New underwear?
Check.
Outrageously expensive room service?
Check.
Husband and I were long overdue for some serious alone time, and so this weekend we booked ourselves into a hotel in Birmingham to 'reconnect', so to speak. We've been wanting to check out the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar for some time so this was a perfect opportunity.
We've never been to any kind of kink community event before, for a few reasons. We're both pretty shy at the best of times, and certainly neither of us are all that comfortable with dressing up in fetish gear in public (in all honesty, we don't even do that in private, it's just not us). But curiosity is a powerful motivator, and by all accounts the bazaar is a very low-pressure event.
We went in our regular street clothes, and at a guess about half of the other guests did as well, with the rest in some degree of kinky clothing, ranging from revealing clubwear to full-body latex, adult baby to sissy maid to elaborate puppy outfits. It was awesome to see people rocking so many different things, and it was clear that people were having a great time just being out and about in an environment where they could be whatever they wanted to be without judgment.
The fact that the bazaar is a market made it less threatening for newbies like us. Rather than having to interact and chat to people as you would at a munch, we were focused on the shopping so there was no awkwardness. There were a few toys which caught our eyes but we didn't want to take anything too big back on the train. We did, however, buy a Mindfold (don't worry, it's a work-safe amazon link), which is the best blindfold we've come across by miles.
To top the visit off we saw our very first demo, which was on the subject of 'erotic impact'. His Lordship isn't a particular fan of sensation play, and generally doesn't get excited by any kind of impact not designed to cause pain. This was perhaps why he looked politely unimpressed through the demos of horsehair floggers, but his eyes lit up when they got out a carriage whip (we're getting one of those, apparently). He must have been paying close attention though, since I've definitely noticed him experimenting with some new techniques.
We didn't stay for the after party, and to be honest watching the demo confirmed for me that I am not ready for public play and possibly never will be. Whilst it's always good to learn from others, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching something terribly intimate, and I couldn't feel entirely comfortable with it. I don't know how I expected to feel really, but I certainly knew I would not want to be on display as she was. So that's an issue of mine I may need to look at.
Anyway - in conclusion, it was well worth a visit and curiosity was well rewarded.
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
One Size Fits All - or - What Kind of Sub Are You Anyway?
Yesterday I went out to a showroom and bought us a car.
All by myself.
I mention this because in the wonderful world that is the internet, there are lots of people who say 'A true sub always...' or 'a real submissive never....' I'd be willing to guess that a real, true submissive, would never be allowed to choose the family car. That's a pretty big investment of money and a big commitment. Certainly a responsibility for the dominant.
He made the decision that it was time for a new car, because he doesn't want his wife and child driving around in the current heap of junk any longer. But that was where his involvement ended. I did the research - fuel economy, insurance groups, reliability and so on - and I went out and got us one. Did I mention I also chose our house? He didn't even see it until the day we moved in.
While we're on the subject of un-subly things I do, I also pick his clothes, hire tradespeople, arrange social occasions and go to the bathroom whenever I please. What kind of sub am I? What kind of dominant is he, that he allows this?
D/s is not one size fits all. I've had one two many people tell me, during an otherwise sensible conversation, that 'your Master shouldn't allow that', 'he's not training you properly' or 'If you were a true submissive...' Ultimately submission is not in the actions but rather the intent behind those actions. It so happens that Husband couldn't care less about what type of car we have, as long as it runs and is safe. He also has better things to do on his evenings and weekends than listen to sales pitches and discuss the cubic capacity of the boot. Therefore, as his sub, I see it as my job to take care of it. Just like I take care of the clothes shopping or the sending of birthday cards or anything else that cuts into his precious home-time. Perhaps you would never allow your sub to do such things, and that's fine, but don't tell me my submission is less because of it. If I'm making him happy, I must be doing a good job!
Also, I've never had a brand new car before, and I am so excited! Roll on delivery day!
All by myself.
I mention this because in the wonderful world that is the internet, there are lots of people who say 'A true sub always...' or 'a real submissive never....' I'd be willing to guess that a real, true submissive, would never be allowed to choose the family car. That's a pretty big investment of money and a big commitment. Certainly a responsibility for the dominant.
He made the decision that it was time for a new car, because he doesn't want his wife and child driving around in the current heap of junk any longer. But that was where his involvement ended. I did the research - fuel economy, insurance groups, reliability and so on - and I went out and got us one. Did I mention I also chose our house? He didn't even see it until the day we moved in.
While we're on the subject of un-subly things I do, I also pick his clothes, hire tradespeople, arrange social occasions and go to the bathroom whenever I please. What kind of sub am I? What kind of dominant is he, that he allows this?
D/s is not one size fits all. I've had one two many people tell me, during an otherwise sensible conversation, that 'your Master shouldn't allow that', 'he's not training you properly' or 'If you were a true submissive...' Ultimately submission is not in the actions but rather the intent behind those actions. It so happens that Husband couldn't care less about what type of car we have, as long as it runs and is safe. He also has better things to do on his evenings and weekends than listen to sales pitches and discuss the cubic capacity of the boot. Therefore, as his sub, I see it as my job to take care of it. Just like I take care of the clothes shopping or the sending of birthday cards or anything else that cuts into his precious home-time. Perhaps you would never allow your sub to do such things, and that's fine, but don't tell me my submission is less because of it. If I'm making him happy, I must be doing a good job!
Also, I've never had a brand new car before, and I am so excited! Roll on delivery day!
Monday, 6 August 2012
The Way to a Man's Heart
Sometimes you see a recipe and know immediately that it's going to be a winner. This is based on a Hairy Biker recipe, tweaked to better match my husband's tastes and because I have neither the time nor the inclination to spend five hours tending to a barbeque.
Pulled Pork:
2kg boneless pork shoulder
50g brown sugar
4 tbsp smoked paprika
3 tbsp salt
1 tbsp cumin
1 tbsp mustard powder
1 tbsp black pepper
1/2 tbsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tbsp thyme
200ml tomato passata
1. Combine the dry spices in a bowl.
2. Score the rind of the pork. Rub the spices all over it, being sure to tuck it into all the folds of the meat and into the scored rind.
3. Put the meat, rind up, into the slow cooker with about 1 cup of water, cook on low for 8-10 hours.
4. (Optional, and very bad for you!) Half an hour before serving, cut off the rind (it falls away easily) and place in an oven proof dish. Heat the oven as hot as it will go and put it in for about 30 minutes or until it crisps and blisters.
5. Remove the meat from the cooker and allow to stand. Pour the spicy liquid into a saucepan with the tomato passata and simmer until slightly thickened.
6. Shred the pork with a fork, discarding any soft fat. Mix the tomato sauce back in.
7. Serve with crusty rolls and the crackling, if desired.
As a bonus - I had lots of extra sauce left over, so I threw it into a casserole dish with some cannellini beans and cooked for three hours on a low heat in the oven. Delicious smoky baked beans for just about no extra effort.
This is so good and makes a huge quantity very cheaply. I can see this coming out on bonfire night. And - hooray! My husband liked it. One more meal for our menu.
Thursday, 2 August 2012
how duz he punish u?
I have a collar me profile and have a lot of people contact me asking to discuss my life in a 24/7 relationship, which I'm happy to do. After all, there's always something we can learn from others and it's interesting to hear how other people do what it is we do.
Sadly these conversations don't usually work out the way I hope. In a good 85% of cases, the conversation becomes about fishing for dirty stories within the first three or four messages. In general, it tends to be people asking about what type of punishments I receive. For some reason, these messages are always written in text speak, almost as if the sender was already typing with one hand in anticipation of the response. I try to steer the conversation in the direction of an interesting discussion about punishment dynamics and styles of dominance, but find myself being pressed for the specific details. They want a blow-by-blow account (no pun intended) of the whole procedure. I can only assume they are hoping for a story that begins with 'He walked in and caught me with a cucumber....' and ends with '...all over my face'. You can feel free to fill in the middle with whatever pleases you.
I'm by no means shy about the details of my sex life, but I always resist this type of chat. After all, this is my life, not a fantasy. If I've been punished, that means there has been a hiccup somewhere in our domestic bliss. There's something mildly disturbing about the thought of someone getting all excited over something bad happening to us. I totally understand that lots of porn and erotica uses the premise of a punishment as an excuse for naughty fun time, and that a lot of these people have fantasies which involve the words ''You bad girl, bend over this instant!'. So I can see why this might be an appealing topic of conversation. But honestly, we're grown ups, we don't need an excuse to break out the paddle. I've given myself to my husband, if he wants to whip me for fun, he can. A punishment means something has gone wrong.
I don't blame people for asking the questions, though I do slightly blame them when I try to explain the above, and get the follow up message 'Duz he hit ur tits?' It further adds insult to injury when people asking these questions do so under the pretense of learning or getting ideas on how to discipline and maintain control of their own sub. Really? You're so lacking in imagination that you need to know whether Husband likes me in a particular colour of underwear for spankings?
Anyway, I'm going off on a rant here. I just wanted to explain, in the unlikely event that any of those people read this, why I get tired of this question.
And as a peace offering and gesture of goodwill, I have decided to describe my most recent punishment for your reading pleasure:
As a punishment for continuing to ask for a mars bar after he said no, I have been banned from eating mars bars for life.
Isn't that hot?
Sadly these conversations don't usually work out the way I hope. In a good 85% of cases, the conversation becomes about fishing for dirty stories within the first three or four messages. In general, it tends to be people asking about what type of punishments I receive. For some reason, these messages are always written in text speak, almost as if the sender was already typing with one hand in anticipation of the response. I try to steer the conversation in the direction of an interesting discussion about punishment dynamics and styles of dominance, but find myself being pressed for the specific details. They want a blow-by-blow account (no pun intended) of the whole procedure. I can only assume they are hoping for a story that begins with 'He walked in and caught me with a cucumber....' and ends with '...all over my face'. You can feel free to fill in the middle with whatever pleases you.
I'm by no means shy about the details of my sex life, but I always resist this type of chat. After all, this is my life, not a fantasy. If I've been punished, that means there has been a hiccup somewhere in our domestic bliss. There's something mildly disturbing about the thought of someone getting all excited over something bad happening to us. I totally understand that lots of porn and erotica uses the premise of a punishment as an excuse for naughty fun time, and that a lot of these people have fantasies which involve the words ''You bad girl, bend over this instant!'. So I can see why this might be an appealing topic of conversation. But honestly, we're grown ups, we don't need an excuse to break out the paddle. I've given myself to my husband, if he wants to whip me for fun, he can. A punishment means something has gone wrong.
I don't blame people for asking the questions, though I do slightly blame them when I try to explain the above, and get the follow up message 'Duz he hit ur tits?' It further adds insult to injury when people asking these questions do so under the pretense of learning or getting ideas on how to discipline and maintain control of their own sub. Really? You're so lacking in imagination that you need to know whether Husband likes me in a particular colour of underwear for spankings?
Anyway, I'm going off on a rant here. I just wanted to explain, in the unlikely event that any of those people read this, why I get tired of this question.
And as a peace offering and gesture of goodwill, I have decided to describe my most recent punishment for your reading pleasure:
As a punishment for continuing to ask for a mars bar after he said no, I have been banned from eating mars bars for life.
Isn't that hot?
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